Milo Kate Irwin

Milo

KATE IRWIN

It was far too late for a boy my age to be roaming the streets. I knew that. And yet, I was there, creeping among the shadows of a dark alley. My father would likely be wondering where I was, but only for a moment. He would only wish me home so that I could bring back any tips I might have earned from my work leading tourists around the city. He would also likely be in something of a raging ft and punish me for arriving home at such a late hour. But tonight was worth it. Every day, so many tourists trusted me as their guide, and rightfully so. I knew Cairo like the back of my hand. I knew every street, every mound of sand, every market, every alley, and every crevice. I loved each and every little part of the city, from its felds and slums to the vast, grand, ancient snake of a river called the Nile.

But it was night now—the city became a different place. I didn’t know Cairo at night. It was a friend with a double personality whose dark side I didn’t know. The shadows crept up behind me and swallowed me in their grasp. I lurked in the dark, peeking around the corner of an unfnished brick and mortar building. The large windows had no glass and began a few stories up to prevent the homeless and vandals from sneaking in. I heard my heart pounding in my chest, that continuous drum I wished would quiet. I consciously tried to slow down my breaths. The hot summer night smelled of dust, garbage, and manure. My cropped, onyx-colored hair felt oily and sandy. I slowly peeked around the corner onto the streets, my small, leathery hands clutching the rough, sandpapery brick of the building to keep my balance as I leaned my head around the corner to see that the coast was clear.

On impulse, I darted out into the middle of the smooth dirt road. I barely noticed the endless piles of trash bags and litter scattered throughout the lane. This street was clean compared to others I’d seen. I moved at a brisk gait, my ears alert and my feet light and quick. The sky was black. Oil lamps in the occasional window and the bright, white stars in the heavens kept my blurry vision dimly lit. I was running from the voices. Their hollow, clear calls echoed in my head every night, whispering my name like they had a secret. Tonight I was determined to fnd them.

It had all begun with a bearded woman. That morning, I had been escorting tourists on the backs of my family’s small fock of camels when she had approached me, asking for a ride to the temple of Karnak. I stroked the side of one of the tall camels anxiously, feeling the protruding ribs and dusty brown fur.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I replied in Arabic, “but my father and I only escort tourists to the Giza pyramids.”

“How can your father escort customers when he is blind?” the woman asked me, her dark violet robes rustling about her as a scorching summer breeze swept past us.

“How do you know that?” I asked, embarrassed. “If our clients discovered that my father is blind, our family’s livelihood would be in danger. They would lose faith. Please, go see the Karnak Temple yourself and leave my family and me alone.”

The woman stood still and stared with knowing hazel eyes.

“Your family business is suffering. I can tell. Your camels are starving, and you look like you haven’t bathed in months. But look, young boy, I know there is more than that. I sense bad spirits around you,” she said, waving her long arms about. “You hear voices.”

I cringed with fear. My secret was out.

“There is no need to lie to me,” the gypsy woman assured me. “I know there is an inner evil inside of you.” The old woman reached into a tattered fabric satchel strung to her waist to retrieve a shiny gold coin.

“If you follow the voices,” she began, her voice quivering, “you will rid yourself of this inner evil. All you have to do is follow the voices.” She fondled the shimmering coin between her bony fngers.

I raised a dark eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘follow the voices’?”

“Our greatest enemies are often ourselves, young man,” the woman said. “If you follow the voices, you will see clearly too. If the answer comes, fnd me and I will give you this gold coin to buy your father some glasses. Those who see clearly are often blind too, you know.”

The gypsy woman’s words cemented to my brain. Follow the voices, she had said. The voices that called to me at night were evil to the very core. They struck out at me from my consciousness, stabbing through my heart. Those little insults and remarks really wore on me. They made me depressed. After so many years of watching my family suffer as a growing child because we couldn’t afford to buy food, I felt useless and like my life lacked purpose. I felt helpless, constantly wondering if there was hope for my family and me. I wanted to provide for them and I wanted to help them—I just didn’t know how. That night, when the voices called to me like soft whispers in the wind, I followed them. I followed them down the shadows of a dark alley to the middle of the smooth dirt road.

You’re worthless, the voices called out. Nothing but a street boy. You will never be able to provide for your family by guiding camels through the sands! You are a lost cause, Adom. A lost cause.

“Go away!” I yelled, failing about like I was shaking fies off my body. “Leave me alone! Be silenced and never return!”

Worthless…

A tear slid down my left cheek as I trudged on. The voices grew louder, leading me about the city through dangerous alleyways and barren felds. I looked down at my feet when I stepped back onto a street curb. They were covered in nut-brown mud. I quickly moved on, following the source of the voices until they reached a climax.

There, hidden beneath the brushes of a few tall reeds lay a tiny, furry body. I approached it with caution. I knelt down beside the muddy white fur and noticed that the creature was still breathing. I took a sigh of relief.

“Hello there,” I said softly. “Is everything alright?”

I examined the small, four legged body as a little head lifted up to greet me. Round, innocent eyes widened with fear upon seeing my tired face.

“Hush, hush. It’s alright now. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you,” I explained to the furry mammal. As if the young creature understood, its expression softened and it laid its head back down against the dark earth. I noticed the baby camel had a broken leg. It twitched its back left leg anxiously.

“I know it’s painful,” I said. “Life hurts sometimes. But don’t let yourself get too down about it. I’ll take you home and have Father fx your leg up right away.”

I gently scooped my hands under the small, furry body. The injured infant squirmed violently. I picked it up quickly and clutched the baby tight to my chest, using all my strength to carry it. I knew it was something special.

“It’s alright, little one,” I said to myself, the voices vanishing from my consciousness. “Everything is going to be okay now.” I had found my purpose.

In the light of the waning moon, I slipped back to our small, makeshift home and onto my mattress stuffed with dried wheat. I sat cross-legged and stroked the baby camel gently as it rested across from me towards the end of my bed.

“Oh, you’re a girl,” I said, smiling. “Then I shall call you… Milo. It’s a very proper name for such a nice lady as yourself. Although you are small now, one day you will grow into a beautiful, strong camel. The fock will be envious of you.”

I fell asleep with a heart full of hope.

“Adom! Adom!” my father called, entering my room early in the morning with a distraught countenance and two sacks of

“What is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes and sitting up in bed. My father glared at me. Instantly, I remembered Milo. My eyes frantically darted to the end of the bed, where the injured infant camel slept peacefully.

“It smells of animal in here,” my father said in his gruff, serious tone. I froze. How could I explain to him what had happened last night?

“Father,” I swallowed. “I found an injured camel last night on the side of the road.”

“In my house?” my father asked, angered.

“She’s just a baby, Father. She’s broken her back leg.”

“Of what use to us is a camel with a broken leg?” he demanded. His weathered face looked dubious.

“But Father,” I pleaded. “You haven’t seen her. She’s beautiful. A white Bactrian, I think.”

My father rubbed his chin with his hand. “A white Bactrian, you say?”

“Yes. She is beautiful. A little muddy, but beautiful. She has a healthy spirit.”

“Oh, all right. Consider this an early birthday gift,” my father said, turning to leave the room. He returned in a moment to my small, shabby space with a bag of veterinary tools. He approached my bed slowly.

“Where is she?” he asked me.

“Sleeping at the end of my bed,” I replied, shuffing away from the makeshift veterinary clinic. My father pulled out a variety of tools and stroked Milo’s leg gently.

“There’s been quite a bit of damage here. Might have been run over by a local cart or something,” he wondered aloud, beginning the intricate binding process on the baby camel leg. I

watched intently as my father wrapped bandage and placed a tiny brace between the layers. He was providing her with the tools to heal—but he’d let her do the healing all on her own. It reminded me of the time, long ago, when I was fortunate enough to be able to attend school for one year. It was all my family could afford. My teacher was incredibly wise. He gave us all the tools we needed to succeed—but only we could be the ones to make the success come. I gave in to a little smile reminiscing about the memory.

“So, will she be able to walk soon?” I asked as my father taped the end of the bandage and stood up from kneeling on the plank foor.

“Yes,” he replied. “It will only take time now for her to heal.”

Milo grew into a powerful, broad-shouldered Bactrian. I scrubbed her sandy-white fur every day and saddled her for rides to the pyramids. She was my best friend, my sanity, and my savior. She brought me hope I’d never had before. She was a good omen. Ever since I found her in the tall grasses on the side of the road, the voices left me and customers started coming to our stables—like magic. With her, I felt like I mattered. With her, I felt loved. She was my guardian angel.

“Adom,” my father called to me, interrupting my thoughts, “please take this family of four out while I clean up some of the camel stalls.”

“Sure thing,” I said cheerfully. Since Milo came into my life, my father had become much more relaxed, too.

While my father headed back to the stable, I loaded each tourist onto a camel ft for their stature and riding ability. I tightened the girth on the saddle of a young European girl’s little brown camel.

“Treat him well, now,” I instructed her in broken English, “He’s a young camel. He isn’t too sure of himself yet.”

The girl nodded. “Just like me,” she added, shrugging her small shoulders gently.

The wind began to whip in brutal lashes when we reached the midpoint of our ride. I looked over my shoulder at the front of the line to speak to my guests.

“It seems like there’s a bit of a sandstorm here. Not to worry, though. It will subside when we reach the other side of this knoll,” I called. Milo bent her strong neck to glance at me out of the corner of her eye.

“We’ll make it,” I told her, pulling my scarf up over my mouth and nose. We slowly edged on as sand whipped into our eyes and blinded us temporarily. Suddenly, Milo shook her body intensely and reared, catching me off guard and whipping me out of the saddle onto the ground.

“Milo!” I called as she took off into the desert. “Come back!” I reached out desperately, my eyes still blinded with sand. Thousands of tiny, white grains grated against my skin, infltrating my orifces like a virus seeping to my core. I tried to shake myself of them by standing up in the midst of the storm and ruffing my clothes, but they stuck to me like tiny pieces of glue.

“Please stay here!” I called to the distraught family, still waiting on the backs of their camels. “The storm should pass soon!” As I turned back to squint into the horizon where Milo ran, my eyes met with the young girl’s. As much as I wanted to stay with the group to ensure their safety, I knew I couldn’t let Milo go—not yet. I still needed her in my life.

With all the strength in my body, I ran out across the sand dune into the heart of the storm. I called out for Milo, desperately hoping that I wouldn’t lose her. Ever since I’d found her, the voices had disappeared. And, more than anything, I knew I didn’t want them to come back. I didn’t want those evil thoughts—my terrible thoughts—to ever return. As I continued on, trudging through the thick, soup-like sand, my foot caught on a protruding piece of garbage. I grabbed the air with my hands as I fell, my head hitting the sand with a thump. Blackness consumed me.

As I lay still in the sand, I felt something soft and warm nudge my forehead. Dreaming, I lifted my chin up from out of the

“Milo! What were you doing, taking off like that?” I asked her, tears brimming to the corners of my eyes. “I can’t live without you.”

But you’ve followed the voices, she said, her fuzzy white mouth unmoving.

“Milo! You can talk?” I asked, astounded.

She did not reply.

“Milo, I hated living with myself,” I said. “You make me feel at peace.”

Adom, our greatest enemies are often ourselves. But you’ve rid yourself of this inner evil. You don’t need me anymore.

Tears slid down my cheeks uncontrollably, blurring my vision. Milo backed away from me slowly, revealing a magnifcent pair of white, feathery wings. She ruffed them, sending feathers cascading around us. I grasped one in my hand, feeling its incredible softness, light and airy to the touch. It felt so real. “You’re…an angel,” I breathed.

Please set me free, she said.

“I can’t!” I replied. Milo shook her head softly and turned away. As I watched her leave, I saw a womanly silhouette in her place as she disappeared into the storm.

“Adom! Adom! Wake up!” My father hovered over me from my huddled position in the sand.

“Father!” I said, standing up shakily.

“I thought we’d lost you,” he said, clutching my arms thankfully. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back when the family returned to the stables without you.” He drew me into a tight hug. My body stood stiff and motionless.

“Milo’s gone,” I said as he released me.

My father rubbed his head with his hand. “I wonder why she spooked liked that. She’d become such a reliable camel.”

The dark, sweaty night that followed brought with it little sleep. I tossed and turned on my mattress uneasily. I tried for hours to release my mind of its incessant thoughts about Milo. I remembered back to the time at school, many years ago, when my teacher spoke to us about ancient Egyptian mythology. He’d taught us about gods with heads of animals and the god that was the Sun; but never had I learned about anything like Milo. My mind racing, I whipped back my blanket and swung my legs around to meet the foor. In the pitch-darkness of my room, I spotted something small and metallic on the foor. I reached blindly for a candle and lit a match, illuminating my room like the Sun. My eyes focused on the shiny object—a gold coin. My vision was hazy and things weren’t making sense. I must have fallen asleep and started dreaming.

My vision panned up slowly. Two pairs of split, large furry toes, a broad chest, a long, slender neck, and a sparkling pair of black, beady eyes appeared before me. Milo knelt her head to the dirty foor and nudged the gold coin toward me with her soft, white nose.

“For father’s glasses…” I said, reaching out for the coin.

Those who see clearly are often blind too, you know, she said, nodding gently at me. As her hulking frame glided swiftly towards the door, I stood in awe. She glanced back at me for a moment, as if to say follow me, and disappeared into the night.

A warm breeze rushed through my oily hair as I followed the angelic creature to the edge of the city. When she reached the end of the dilapidated road, her front feet stepped lightly into the cool sand. I followed her, trudging through the dunes in nothing but an old pair of Father’s pyjamas. As we strayed farther and farther from the city, the stars in the sky sparkled brighter. I averted my eyes from Milo’s retreating fgure momentarily to gawk at their astounding beauty. Everything was pure and clear out here, free from the city. Time passed like nothing—my mind felt still and calm as the thick soles of my feet carried me across the desert to a hidden oasis. Tucked between two dunes, Milo lowered her

head and munched on a patch of grass, waiting for me. I admired her inner peace and steady poise, like a yogi deep in meditation. Her eyelids wavered slightly, but she regained her composure and spoke to me in her smooth voice, her mouth unmoving.

I can’t stay here, Adom.

“Why not?” I asked her.

I have been trapped here for a long time now. This is not my home, she explained. Her round eyes gazed into my brown ones.

“You…you want me to set you free.”

Yes, she sighed. I will miss you, but it is something you must do. You cannot rely on others for the things you must give yourself. You must learn to love yourself.

I nodded in acceptance. “I have, Milo. And I have no one but you to thank.”

But Adom, I have only given you the tools to love yourself—it was you who made it happen, she explained, bowing her head. Will you release me from the earthly vessel that binds me?

I sighed deeply as my hand caressed her face. “Yes. If you love something, set it free. If it is yours, it will come back to you.”

I will always be watching over you, she assured me. I held her face gently as the life left her earthly shell. Her old body felt lighter, as though she was breathing a sigh of relief for her freedom. I held the body of the camel tightly as it fell to the ground. Tears fowed down my face and swept down Milo’s soft, white fur. I clutched her tightly as bittersweet sorrow flled the very core of my being. Although I knew I would never see her again, her spirit was free now. She could return to her heavenly duties as a guardian angel, protecting the souls of the living and the bodies of the dead. Although I knew I could never converse with her again, whether as Milo or the gypsy woman, I knew she had cured me. As the night drifted on like the sail on a boat, I could hear her whispers in the wind: I love you, little one. Be gentle to yourself.

I awoke the next morning with a new sense of inner peace. Although I wasn’t sure why my dreams had become so peculiar,

things were happier now. I knew deep in my heart that Father, my family, and I were going to be alright. We were fnancially stable again and could afford to purchase a well for bathing water—but Father never thought to buy himself a pair of glasses. I stepped out into the bright morning light, shielding my hand from the powerful Sun. As I walked to the stable where my father quietly swept, I felt something in my pocket. Confused, I stopped abruptly and shoved my hands to the bottom of my loose pant pockets. I made a fst, pulled the contents out, and opened my hand to survey the items. In my hand, refecting the Sun’s bright light was the shiny, gold coin and a soft, white feather, huddled together like two friends who brought out the best in one another.