... since my youth I've always been attracted to photography, and have considered the printed image to be a very complete means of communication, full of information and capable of transmitting indelible messages, that are able to reach everyone, in the deepest recesses of their souls. After a period of study, I decided to take it up seriously. I began as a dilettante to make some photo reportage, but even though I worked very hard and I studied the best photographers, I remained a very bad photographer myself. I criticized my own work and was aware of my lack of sensitivity in capturing that part of an image, or that detail, which could best describe, in simple synthesis, a subject or an event at the moment of its happening. However, I wasn't concerned with my inexperience and I thought that only by studying and constantly applying myself, I would acquire, along the way, the ability to capture an emotion instantly and fix it on film.

One rather dark and cloudy day, without anything stimulating, I suddenly got a telephone call from an acquaintance who wanted to invite me to dinner. At first I showed no interest and almost refused the invitation, my nature which can sometimes be suspicious began to erect that wall of protection between me and those persons whom I've never considered open and sincere, and for whom my heart denies the existence. But he, urged on by my refusals, wouldn't concede defeat and kept on insisting, trying to convince me to accept without revealing the true motive of the encounter. There it is, I thought, that insincerity of his that I was so sure of, but I didn't give in to his sweet words, and I asked him repeatedly <why do you insist on seeing me, have you become so curious of me, don't I disgust you anymore? Or maybe you don't remember who I am, maybe you forget all the many times we've argued, and even if you never said anything to my face, you've always spoken badly of me, and moreover, you've always made it clear to me that I bothered you, and you had no wish to include me in your list of acquaintances --- have you maybe crossed over to the other side?>

As the memories slowly surfaced, my words became more and more poisonous and so I then decided to avoid going any further, blocking my rancour with a deep breath. This helped to soothe my soul, almost making me forgive myself for my attitude of verbal impetuousness, and I continued a little more tactfully< I've always admired you, you are a very intelligent person, I like your work and on the quiet I follow everything you do, I admire your stubbornness, your tenacity, but frankly I am very surprised at your telephone call>. He hesitated a bit, to calm the waters and to avoid provoking another outburst from me. Then with suitable words, keeping clear of a dialectical clash, which he would have surely lost, he began by saying that he'd wanted to see me again for some time and that he considered me to be a vivacious and valorous person. This time his words sounded sincere, not because he was flattering me but because the tone of his voice, so calm and spontaneous, couldn't betray his honesty. So I let myself be convinced without anymore resistance and I accepted without fear, thinking that there wouldn't be any risk involved in my decision. I would spend an evening in his company, perhaps even enjoy myself, if there was any risk it was his, having to face me, looking him in the eyes, I would be able to stab my knife in his side, metaphorically speaking, that blade which for so long had called for revenge.

After a few days I went to the amorous encounter, an excellent restaurant, very intimate and elegant, I knew the place, I'd been there several times since it was one of my favourites, with the tables placed in a very secluded setting, it was just the right atmosphere for a delicate meeting. Certainly he had chosen it on the advice of some mutual friend who knew me well. So we found ourselves there in front of the restaurant like two perfect strangers, the address was exact, so was the hour, at that time there weren't any cell phones and it was more complicated to resolve doubts, on the other hand, we hadn't seen each other in quite a while, I looked very different. We looked at one another, and studied each other with side glances, moving around on the sidewalk and observing the clock. There were some signs of impatience nothing more, I'm not good at remembering faces perhaps neither is he, so we both found it difficult to approach the other, when he finally said < I'm waiting for a dear friend but she's late, maybe she had a setback > , < I'm also waiting for a friend, maybe he too had a setback >, I said to him with a smile. He smiled back and with a look of surprise he whispered<two victims of destiny>. The ice was broken. Some minutes passed and then he spoke again, saying<why don't we go in? We can wait inside where it's warm > after a brief pause he continued < if we both discover to be victims of an unpleasant inconvenience we could remedy the situation by having dinner together, that is if you agree, I have a table reserved and I'd really enjoy spending an evening in pleasant company> without giving me time to answer he continued<I would be honoured>. For the first time I feel calm and I don't refuse the unexpected offer, this time I feel I can agree with his words and we go into the place at once. At the entrance to the dining room the restaurant owner awaits us and greets us in a smiling, respectful manner, then recognizing me he greets me by name<dear miss Irene good evening, how are you? You are always so elegant, might I possibly be your escort? > so then I smile at him and give him my hand, greeting him cordially and thanking him for his warm and friendly welcome. My unknown adventurer smiled at me intensely, even his eyes were smiling, and in a very amused manner said>I believe I've reserved a quiet corner to spend several happy hours with the lovely miss Irene, who has given me the honour of being her escort this evening>. When he said this I understood everything, it was him -- my long time enemy, the one who invited me, < I've reserved a table for two in the name of .........>, he seyed .

At this point we couldn't do anything but laugh about it, two people apparently strangers find that right feeling, becoming accomplices in making a pleasant decision from an uncomfortable situation, spontaneously discovering the pleasure of being together. Two people who have been rivals and enemies, one moment afterwards erase their past and reinvent themselves as everlasting friends. And yes, that's how life takes pleasure in surprising us, strange destiny, now the one I hated to death has suddenly become likeable to me, it took so little to cancel out all my rancour and it took equally little to extinguish all the scorn he felt for me. That rascal who with delicate courtesy, ignoring the consequences, boldly offers an invitation to a stranger, on the sidewalk, in front of a restaurant. I think that destiny wanted to reunite us by mere fate, without discussions, cancelling with one stroke our past relationship, very troubled, turbulent and poisonous. How could a dinner begin better than that, with joy and friendship, amazed by the modality, certainly pleased by the good hopes of enjoying a cordial and friendly evening.

So with good mood music, a magnificent piano being played in the room, we spend some time relating the last pieces of life, adventures and misadventures, mutual friends and successes. Then we begin to talk about the real reason for our meeting, leaving the initiative to me, I ask him in a kind way why there was so much urgency,< you know of course that I am an advertising photographer, lately I've been doing reports for the top automotive companies, these are published in the best automotive magazines and billboards> I interrupt him and say <yes I know, that last ad was really great, I saw it on the street but I didn't think you had done it> He continues to explain that he has a thriving business and is full of work, he's making a name for himself and earning well, but he's beginning to have time problems, refusing less important clients. All this worries him but he doesn't want his business to grow too much and doesn't want to give others the chance of learning from him with the risk of having them become competitors. I answer that I understand perfectly well but that this is the natural way, in the growth of a business, and then there's the need to instil trust in the persons who work for us so that this doesn't occur. He is aware of this but is very jealous of his artistic professionalism, so proud of his merits, that he would never give this opportunity to others. Then he continues, saying < I recently found myself faced with requests that I didn't know how to or wasn't able to refuse, these are my best clients, I couldn't say no, I'd rather be dead, if I'd have done it I would have lost both of them and now I would be forced to put up with my competitors, my most ruthless rivals >. But what do I have to do with his problems, I thought.

In the meantime we were tasting a superb first course accompanied by a white wine with the scent of roses, which I don't wish to name since it's very recognizable for it's uniqueness, when, the owner came over, always very courteous and attentive, to suggest the second course, suitable for the occasion as he explained, a second course to remember. We let ourselves be convinced by him and without knowing what his culinary choice would be, just as a surprise, we followed his advice, which was well-known to derive from a rich and fertile intuition, acute but always discreet.
At the end of the first course, really delicious for the palate, here Stefano after having excused himself for being boring, but continuing to be so for a while longer, begins again to talk about his work, like an armoured tank pointed towards its target with a projectile in its gun, without stopping or hesitating, he tells me about his latest works and the esteem that he's gathered in his field, product of great sacrifice along with his creativity. But at this point I interrupt him, because I was beginning to get an idea of where he was heading < excuse me but a part from the one-sidedness of the argument, I'd like to know why you're confiding it to me, or must you vent your anger to be able to resolve your problems, I don't live in your world, I'm not your competition, I don't have the means or the resources to be of any help to you. You have to accept competition at any rate, and you can't keep your foot in both shoes, don't you agree? Or isn't this your problem. And again, why so much urgency to see me, since we've hated each other for years, what do you expect from me, what do we have in common, and what is the need for improving our thoughts, what do you what to offer me, perhaps a team game? And how > I pause a while to sip a bit of wine, then without letting him say a word, I continue saying < perhaps I should consider your interest in me as a hiring, to get rid of your competitor, your enemy? Or perhaps I should sweeten up one of your clients…> I finish by apologizing for the vehemence of my flood of questions.

There was a moment of silence, just enough time to catch my breath and study the situation, meanwhile the waiter took away the plates and arranged the table for the second course. Then by surprise, while the waiter withdrew, Stefano reaches out his hand and squeezes mine, then he looks me in the eyes and with a gentle look, he whispers < Irene, I desire you > he sighs < I love you >. I'm dumbfounded, I'm goggle-eyed, estatic, unable to speak, I feel a strong heat on my face, an intense blush that colours my cheeks, something that hasn't happened to me for some time. I feel my legs weak, and if I were standing I would surely slump to the floor, so strong is the fainting sensation. Caught off guard, perhaps hypnotized by his eyes, maybe frightened by those simple yet intense words, now I felt lost, vulnerable, around me there was nothing, and as if in a thick reddish haze I could only see his face looking at me while I burned in the flames.

I tried to pull myself together and said with a feeble, hoarse voice < this wine is truly devilish, it has heated me up in an instant, leaving me breathless, I'm all red and hot, I'm just not used to drinking >, this said in order to hide the emotional reaction caused by his words. But he, being a seducer, a conqueror, went on with his devastating deed, so that, after having attacked my heart, capturing me with those words, now he plunges his sword and pierces me through, saying Irene, I've wanted to see you for a long time, I've often thought about you and you've always stirred my curiosity, in a good way naturally, even though we've had some conflicts, youthful disagreements, believe me, I've never despised you, perhaps my aversion was due to fear of being caught in your net. Lately though my thoughts are confused, always in a struggle between wanting to see you and afraid of being rebuffed. My heart beats for you, but I can't have you as I'd like to, I desire you terribly, but I'm married and faithful. I'm not here today in search of something different, please believe me, I'm not asking you to go to bed with me, even if that's what I'd like, don't misunderstand me, I'm speaking to you sincerely, I'm speaking with my heart, I'm here because I feel fond of you, I feel that you could be my best companion, my best friend, my best ally.>

I stopped him with a glance, since my intuition didn't fail me, I began to understand much more than he was saying, blushing more and more but with new energy and more detachment, so to lighten the weight of his request, I said<I'm happy for your interest, and also pleased with your explanations about our past, on the other hand, maybe because I'm naïve, I never think I attract attention, anyway now I feel happy and honoured by your words, your interest in me, which I finally feel are sincere and affectionate. But you know how difficult and diffident I can be, due to the normal way that we transgenders behave, we always put up a barrier between us and persons who are biologically defined, we protect ourselves in houses, and we risk living isolated from the world> then without giving him the chance to reply, I decide to help him with <I understand what you are saying, that the urgent need to solve that important work problem, forces you, with time expired, to make a decision, unwillingly, that you wouldn't otherwise have wanted to make, at least not so hastily> While I speak I watch him, and calibrate my words with his expression. Now that I see him look worried, I decide to sweeten the pill, adding<certainly this choice has cost you a lot, swallowing your pride isn't like you, but maybe something is really changed in you, in both of us, and today we are different, less instinctive, more mature, and we care more about winning a friendship than fighting under the banner of prejudice >. Meanwhile his face was relaxing and a smile returned to his lips. I went on < it's true that hastiness is the enemy of success but audacity rewards the strongest and so you want to gain my friendship through my heart, and by means of love you hope to succeed in your attempt, avoiding a clamorous failure. Well then, my heart has already reserved a place for you, from the first moment I saw you tonight, an exclusive place, I plead with you to not betray it but to nourish it with affection and love, so that I can really be your best friend.> I'm reciting my part as a monologue, opening myself to him, he's by now become my defenceless prey, so I reinforce inexorably my sentence < you wished to place your love before me, if it's at all true, strewing my path with petals and nectar, until I, attracted, couldn't say no. You lay yourself at my feet to avoid the failure of your mission, my refusal would cost you your life. And so you want to give me an unknown task, but I think you have confidence in me, in my capacity to perform this job, I think it involves a very delicate work, and only through a tight bond, perhaps an intimate one, you'll be able to feel calm, assuring yourself a good outcome, have I gotten it right? > I conclude proudly.

His reply is immediate < my dear Irene, if you'll permit me this sign of affection, I must tell you that you are more intelligent and intuitive than I had thought, even admiring you very much, I still didn't know of your intuitive and altruistic qualities, forgive me if I used the heart to reach you but it was the only path I could take. You've understood perfectly, you're so pretty and lovable, yes you're different, but you're the one who rises out of a crowd, like a wave, a beautiful impetuous one that we would all want to ride with our boards > …. < I'll be honest with you, you are reading my eyes, I cannot lie, trying to win you over wasn't that easy, perhaps fate wanted to help us, smoothing the way by softening our past, instead of a rediscovery it might have turned into a fight, real and proper, violent, with words like blows, that might have pierced us mortally. We are two ignited souls, independent, we are two scorpions, free, we don't accept orders or hypocrisies, we only seek a loyal sincere relationship, with tenacity we loose ourselves in our convictions, you and I see the world in the same way, and we can be complementary, you and I together can achieve great things, we'll conquer the world >.

In the meantime the owner serves us the second course, describing it as food for the gods, and accompanying it with a more suitable wine, he again wished us a pleasant meal and in leaving us he winked at me. So I start to taste this food of the gods, when a shudder runs through my mind, I look at Stefano deep in his eyes, and then I burst out rather cruelly with < but don't you think that a feeling such as affection or even more love, can't be bargained like that for a question of work? Don't you think you're pretending too much? You can't adjust your feelings for the occasion, and expect that others will do the same? How do you plan to guarantee my affection, or even my love? It's well to be altruistic but idiotic never! If affection exists, it can be cultivated but love no! > He is slightly taken aback but not really surprised and responds < you are already in my heart, from time immemorial, I feel love for you, but I don't expect to be loved in return, I'll suffocate my instinct until the day when you love me, even just a little, nothing more, in all these years and even now at this moment I am trying to smother the love I feel for you. My wife knows about my feelings for you, she helps me to get through the moments of crisis, and I've told her about this dinner with you, but she's calm because she knows me, she's sure of the love I have for her, and she thinks that what I feel for you is more a liking than a loving. Don't worry, even loving you, I won't expect to be loved in return >.

Before such sincerity I feel reassured and try to get to the point, saying < we've confessed and made up all too much this evening, now has come the moment to reveal your secret, while we enjoy this delicious second course, tell me darling, what destiny awaits me, by now I'm your slave, you may do with me what you wish, I would even be your foot rug. He's very amused but brought to the limit he confides <dear friend, my love, I've always valued intuition, and in your photos, which I saw at the last contest, I realized that you have exceptional talent, I like the creative photography that you present in your work > I listen to him in awe <in my computer I have a series of your photos, some debatable but the majority of them are quite nice, several are very attractive besides being original, but I didn't want to copy you, instead I wished to understand your character, and in this way I came to the conclusion that we have something in common, a similarity of ideas, so much that by looking at your photos over and over, I fell in love with you> His last words really surprised me, amazed me and made me proud of myself, I certainly never expected such a close examination of my work, at least, I didn't think I deserved so much interest, from him who was a famous advertising photographer, a landmark in the arts of communication, he was interested in my humble attempts and he was raising me up to the highest level. Then he added < don't ask me who gave me your photos, I don't want to betray a mutual friend, heh heh, but really I beg you to forgive him, he did it for a good cause and one day you'll thank him > I blushed once more and understood who he was talking about. < Dear colleague, if I may be so honoured, dear partner, would you like to do a photographic work for me in my name? >. Here I go again starting to panic, and feeling faint, I excused myself to go to the toilette for a moment.

I sat on the toilet but didn't need to do anything, I only needed to think about his last words, reason out his proposal and regain the courage to face the subject with a clear mind. So after I caught my breath I went back into the ring. When he saw me returning with new assurance he said,<I see that you feel better, you certainly can't hold your wine, anyway now you're better so I'll try to explain my request a little better.< I smile at him joining my hands and putting my elbows on the table with my chin resting on my fingers to listen to him with all my attention. < I need you to help me by being my substitute for a photo service in the Sahara desert, where a sports car firm wants to present its new models in a desert context, hoping to add a particular charm without becoming banal like so many others.> Well, I thought, swallowing the saliva in my mouth and I began to think, then I asked him<Are you sure that I am capable of creating that charm that you are looking for, finding that originality that marks your work, will I be good enough to meet the task you are giving me, in your name?> and he answers < dear Irene, if I asked your help it was because I'm sure of you, I'm certain that you will succeed, and that you will dedicate yourself heart and soul to finding that originality that distinguishes my work, I'm sure you'll do a magnificent job, but rest assured that even though you're working in my name, the image rights are of course yours, and the earnings will be yours, only yours, I'm not interested in that money, I just want to satisfy a client, that client must continue to be mine, and if you accept, tomorrow I'll introduce you to them >.

So as fate would have it one fine day I found myself in the Sahara desert with Stefano's troupe and the client's staff, besides a whole series of special automobiles of various colours, a truly impressive organization, all under my management. We worked for two months, in the deserts of Libya , Egypt , and Sudan , in different areas, rather characteristic, in the middle of the dunes, on rocks, on stones, and on softest, finest sand. From dawn to dusk without stop, I tried to capture something good, tried to invent that emotion that would give fascination to the image. A difficult undertaking to be sure. And then those beautiful oases with people cultivating vegetables and olives amongst the date palms. Then down to Mali until reaching Timbuctu always escorted by numerous nomad tribes, both for personal protection as well as for the availability of many dromedaries. In the end I spent two months without a rest, in the constant fear of not making it, I took thousands of photos and used up kilometres of film, without pause, never thinking much about myself, always covered with pompous turbans so that only my eyes peeked out, red, irritated, filled with sand. From Timbuctu I managed to send all the work in protected thermic insulating containers. After a few days I began receiving telegrams and telephone calls with good news, followed by the unfailing compliments of Stefano. Then about ten days later I got the client's order to close up the operation and send everyone home, the objective had been reached and they were waiting for us with their compliments. Naturally before returning to Italy I organized the party that I had promised everyone during the tour.

But on the last night I couldn't sleep, I felt a strong buzzing in my ears, I wasn't well, I felt overheated, neglected, although I was happy, I also felt sad, something was missing. So I decided to call Stefano in the middle of the night, and I told him about my uneasiness. At first he was worried, but then thinking it over he said it could be that “African fever” , that grabs your stomach, and that perhaps I needed to relieve this feeling by staying a bit longer here, in these places, to enjoy a rightfully merited rest. On the other hand the mission was concluded and I didn't have anything special impending, so I could allow myself a few days of vacation, and since I was by now well paid for the successful job, I could afford an extravagance. The next day I said goodbye to the troupe and staff, I was sorry to see them go and was now alone in the land of Africa . The nervous tension that had kept me as tight as a violin string had by now loosened and I felt great, unique, full of pride and happy to have done so well. Even if I was alone among people that I had some doubts about, I wasn't at all afraid, I wanted to do something interesting, experience new emotions that would give me the excitement and joy that I needed, and would make me tingle with pleasure

In this way I got the idea of joining a tribe of nomads, crossing the desert with them in order to live a new dimension, surely difficult and full of problems, perhaps dangerous, but I felt immortal and so I was determined. I spoke to Stefano about it and he was against it, called me crazy saying that it was too dangerous an adventure for me, he didn't want me to risk my life, didn't want to lose me for such an ephemeral desire, but being stubborn and hard-headed I didn't listen to him and decided to challenge myself. I chose the last tribe that had accompanied us , gave them lots of money, partly to pay for the dromedary and harness, and also for those few things and provisions that were needed for the journey, plus all sorts of medicine for every possible event. After several days of preparation, I finally joined them and we set off for the desert. First on foot, next astride the dromedary I began my adventure, day after day I lived this strange mania with them, they were probably traders and had to travel, me no, so why did I want to go with them, this question tormented me, like a sort of regret, that grew as time passed.

Problems started to arise, complications of many types, alimentary ones as well as physical ones, the first days of riding the dromedary were tough, until I got used to the rhythm of his gate, and my rear end was a painful witness to it, as well as my arm muscles, not to mention the rolling wavy movement that could topple you from the saddle if you didn't follow it. By day travelling was slow through the dunes, all different from each other; the sun instead was always the same, you watched it rise, grow and then set beyond the horizon, always in the same way, always so clear and intense that it burned my eyes. My skin was parched by the low humidity and began folding into many painful wrinkles which filled with captured dust particles. My lips were so dry they felt like parchment, so sun-burnt that they lost all shape and gave me a constant burning sensation.

Periodically at intervals in the day, the caravan stopped , they gathered together the animals, and after prayer, they drank their tea. I joined them and was kindly offered a glass of hot tea, good and aromatic, a true remedy for thirst. In the evening we would stop in a sheltered area where the tents were set up around a fire to warm us a bit, the night was very cold and the temperature sometimes reaches zero. Numerous discussions took place around the campfire, I couldn't understand a thing and no one cared about making me understand, then I was served a meagre meal, very spicy, with a particular taste. While I huddled in front of the fire, I watched the flames that sparkled and consumed the few shrubs necessary for preparing the meal, and I thought about the choice I'd made, ever more doubtfully, maybe with regret, but by now I couldn't turn back. Each person on his own went to sleep in the dilapidated tents, I also tried to settle myself as well as possible on a rug wrapped up with my clothes in an uncomfortable, smelly cover. I was beginning to feel a bit nauseated by their behaviour, left always apart, only a few women every so often came to ask me something but I couldn't understand them and they didn't try to help me, not even with gestures, they would get angry and go away, so I felt more and more left out, only a bother to them.

A few days later we met up with a second caravan, larger and noisier, coming from another direction, which joined up with us and we continued the desert journey together forming one caravan, very long, interminable, all in a row, one behind the other, a trail of people and animals maybe a kilometre in length. In the evening they formed many camps and I didn't know with which one I could or should stay. I had lost sight of the tribal chief, the only person I knew and with whom I could speak a little in French. Everyone looked alike to me, only the turbans were different, but at night under the moonlight it wasn't easy to distinguish him, recognize him, and so I tried calling him by name but the noise of the discussions around the campfires covered up mine. Then I decided to look for him, and running from camp to camp, searching the faces of everyone, I still couldn't find him.

Near the camp limits I saw two girls alone who had just taken off their turbans, in the moonlight their faces were white, and I realized with surprise that they were Europeans or Americans. So I approached them and without hesitation I greeted them with a “ciao”, one of them looked at me with sad eyes and greeted me back in Italian, lowering her head. My heart missed a beat, as I was just savouring the joy of finally having company on the trip, I was grabbed by the shoulders and thrown on the ground far away from them. A group of Bedouins had pushed me away with kicks and blows, I had to run off to avoid worse. Running on the sand, falling down so many times, I tried to reach my camp but couldn't locate it. Tired and disheartened, I sat down on the fringe of another group who were singing and playing music. When they saw how upset I was they began to pester me with questions. I was interrogated constantly, this time in French , of which I speak very little, by one of them who seemed to be the leader of the second caravan. He wanted to know why I didn't pray with them, if I had money, if I was waiting for someone, where I was going, if I resisted the trip under the sun, if I felt cold at night, if I needed to take a bath. To sum up I was repeatedly questioned, in a most obsessive way, and I was able to answer any more.

With every passing day I saw them becoming more hostile, always watching whatever I was doing, to the point of asking me if I would entertain them, if I would do a belly dance, if I would take off my clothes. I should note that there were many women and children in the caravan all covered up abundantly like me. I thought I wouldn't cause any curiosity, and would pass unnoticed, but now their attentions were worrying me, I began to feel afraid of them. And I was right, my fear became real on the seventh night, when I had just fallen asleep, in front of the campfire and was awakened with the feeling of many hands touching me all over and trying to undress me. I tried to shield myself but it was useless, and in a few seconds I found myself naked in the midst of them. With surprise they saw my penis, so I wasn't a woman as they had thought, and they burst out laughing exposing their crooked, rotten teeth. They touched it over and over, weighing it in their hands with amusement, then they touched my breasts, becoming perplexed, then my behind which they squeezed in excitement. They forced me to my knees in the middle of them before the fire, the usual Bedouin asked me in French < are you a Christian ? >. After a moment's hesitation I answered yes with a shake of my head. So everyone understood my reply and I thought that was the end for me, like a martyr I thought of God in whom I believe and from whom I hoped to receive the courage to withstand the pain. My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when I heard them arguing and shouting, so that the whole encampment woke up to see what was happening. There were more than sixty adults arguing and fighting around me.

But I, naked, was cold and didn't understand anything, all that shouting their language was incomprehensible to me, I thought I would go crazy, several words were repeated obsessively, and I tried to ask the chief what was going on, but all for nothing. Then in the midst of all the commotion someone spit in my face, another grabbed me by the neck as if to cut off my head, another squeezed my testicles to make me scream, another took a stick from the fire and tried to jam it up my rear end, but was stopped right away, luckily for me, and pushed away by all the others. Finally the leader of the tribe, first of all told me that they were mercenaries, guerrillas, and then added that they wanted my money or my life. I told him that everything I owned was in the bag hanging from the saddle of the dromedary, and that I didn't have anything else. One of them had already stolen my money, and that's why they were fighting, to find out who had taken it. Next the discussion changed tone and the tribal leader began trying to protect me, but to no use, they threw me on the cold desert sand and plunged me over and over with their penises. They amused themselves with me for a long time, I was without strength or will, I let them abuse me without putting up any resistance, since it wouldn't have done any good.

After that night I wasn't allowed to be with them anymore, not even under the tents or around the campfire. I was treated like an animal, left at the far end of the encampment, tied up with the dromedaries. During the daytime I was forced to walk at length since I no longer had a dromedary for myself and had to alternate with to other unfortunates, one astride and two on the ground, then we'd change around. The two girls who shared this disgrace with me were the ones I had seen and greeted that night before I was beat up. One is named Rossella, an Italian like me, green eyes, 26 years old, while the other is Kate Scots, blue eyes, 30 years old, married with a son. Both were wearing striped tunics, very dirty, and a head covering that only let their eyes show, deep in a very suffering face, thin, without will power. They never spoke, only watched, because if we pronounced one word we would be savagely beaten and left without food or maybe abandoned to die in the desert.

And now that I'm not a paying guest, I'm forced to be a slave, without any dignity, I live this journey with them, terrorized by the continuous threats of death, without being able to communicate with them, I'm becoming mute like them. Only by our looks are we able to vent our anger, the wish for revenge, a plea for help, especially at night when scorpions and vipers come up out of the ground. And we three, tied up near the animals, are cold and scared, yes, scared of falling asleep, and so, in shifts, one on guard and two sleeping, we spent those dreadful nights, brightened by the enormous moon, that released an intense light, dazzling. Whoever didn't sleep at night would do so astride the dromedary until she started to fall from the saddle. The animals sensed the presence of the vipers, and kicked their hooves to chase them away, but they didn't sense the scorpions.

And so, did I find that grand emotion that I was looking for? No, it wasn't what I wanted, I found myself in a sea of difficulties, because I'm stupid and reckless, these were not at all the strong emotions that I had hoped to feel……this is what I thought every night, by now I was reduced to a larva, very thin, even though they gave me something to eat and drink, I hadn't the energy to react and I let myself be slowly overcome by the others wishes. I was destined to become, like the other two poor girls, an object of sexual release, constantly bothered, I spent the evenings putting up with every sort of perversion. There wasn't any intimacy between us any more, my sisters of misfortune had seen who I was by now, but they showed no surprise, no interest, no disappointment, they were apathetic like me, nothing mattered, life had no importance. Even death didn't frighten us any more, if it came to get us it would only be an end to our suffering. There wasn't any need to wash ourselves any more, the odour of urine was so strong on us that not even a bath in lime would have taken off that indecent crust, a sort of protection, against which not even the night animals wanted to come near. Our soap was the fine desert sand.

After a month the caravan finally arrived at a beautiful place, a very fertile oasis surrounded by a big lake, on whose banks there were lots of people trading goods, washing themselves and watering their animals. We three unfortunates were forced, with great pleasure, to wash ourselves in the lake, constantly guarded, in fear of our escaping, and that water would help to purify our bodies. Finally we would be able to scrape away that ugly crust which covered us up to our hair. It was a long and meticulous wash, difficult to remove the sand in the skin, the same sand we had used to clean ourselves after the tortures. With the help of some soap and straw we scraped our skin like that of a horse to remove the black spots from our feet, not heeding the irritation it caused. Even our hair once cleaned of the sand was slow to regain its natural colour. And our faces, burned by the sun, with the skin all wrinkled, weren't the way we remembered, our eyes so white and red seemed bigger. When we were cleaned up and started to smile they gave us white cotton tunics, except mine which was different, prettier, with red and gold embroidery, the material was finer, it seemed like silk.

My sisters in misfortune, Rossella and Kate, seeing my dress, were a little resentful for the different treatment and they made faces at me, but what fault did I have? Dressed like this and without our turbans they took us to a place that seemed to be a market where they sold everything and lots of people were bargaining for anything. With one glance we immediately understood our destiny.
Kept apart in a secluded corner, inside of a smelly courtyard and guarded by five of them, we were looked at by some people who came near us, then they spoke in a lively way to our Bedouins and afterwards they went away rather angrily. After several hours in that courtyard, with the same scene over and over, there appears an important looking person, fat but distinctive, with a very beautiful tunic, a silk turban and his fingers covered with rings. He was escorted by about ten people, certainly armed, he looked at our Bedouins with distaste. They attempted to speak to him but he didn't want to, then he comes close to us, one of the guards whispers something in his ear, he looks at us for a long time, then he points to me and tells me to follow him. My unlucky partner, the Italian girl, whispers<you've been bought, lucky you>.

A bedouin takes me by the arm and pushes me toward the buyer who makes a gesture to follow him, I lower my head and obey, escorted by his guards, I'm led to a place not far from the courtyard, a dark room with a bench against a wall and a sumptuous, opulent cushion in the middle. He sits down on the cushion, his guards remain outside and close the door, then once alone he looks at me closely and gestures to me to remove my clothes. I follow his orders just like a slave, and remain naked in front of him. He looks at me in ecstasy, first the breasts and then the penis and pronounces the word “bella” in Italian, then he continues to observe me and asks me to turn around, afterwards he says in English < you're exactly what I want >. I was amazed to hear him speak, after a month of hardship, finally someone that I could understand, finally, I could see the light of freedom and thinking about what had happened to me, I began to cry. He looked at me tenderly and I wiped my tears, then knowing that a slave must serve her master, and supposing that my salvation might depend on my capabilities, without losing time, I dedicated myself with extreme care to giving him the most pleasure that I possibly could. Without any limits, I offered myself to the profound art of love making, which nobody could refuse, provoking much pleasure and making him glad of his choice, surely rewarded beyond the monetary value that was agreed on with that group of mercenaries. I didn't dare, but I wanted to ask him something, yet I was afraid of being impertinent, my thoughts ran on, to be too hasty, it could be risky, better to limit myself to indulging him, if he frees me from those mercenaries, I would have the time to know, the opportunity to talk to him, and maybe I would have a chance of redeeming myself.

It was he, who at a certain moment told me to stop, and to get dressed, he was by now convinced of the bargain and knew for sure that he wanted me to be his, at any price. We went back to the courtyard, I walked behind him with my head bowed in the midst of his guards. He began to bargain my acquisition, a long and complicated operation, involving many words, gestures and handshakes. Keeping my head down, I didn't dare move a muscle during the agitated bargaining, but not far away I saw the feet of my two unlucky companions, Rossella and Kate. I raised my eyes slowly and saw their sad faces, their wet eyes, and the tears falling down their sun-burnt cheeks, they were looking at me and asking for help, and what could I do for them? I was consumed with pain at the thought of leaving them there, my heart bled thinking of them still at the mercy of who knows who, far from me. Suddenly Rossella cried out to me “ Irene help me” and immediately a mercenary gave her a slap that made her fall to her knees. It was like a knife stab to my heart, I tried to step toward her and give her my arm but the guards stopped me from going closer. With my arm blocked I was forced to go to my knees and remain behind my master, who noticed what was going on and stopped a moment to discuss.

I felt I was the most fortunate one, chosen not for beauty or dress, but for the diversity of my body, a strange fate for one such as I, who was never, or very little, given consideration. My difference, which ransoms me as never before in my life, though often dreamed for, now is becoming an unjust destiny, our souls cannot be separated here, in this way, in this place, in this situation. All this would be too cruel, I have to do something, I thought and repeated obsessively, Now, at the end of the dealing, I see the price paid for me, and see also my sack which had held my documents and clothes being given to my owner, who checks the contents, but immediately gets irritated and points a finger in the face of the mercenary who took my money, that finger held so impressively, with rich rings that shone in the sun, was awesome.

His guards without any orders encircled the mercenaries, pulling out their daggers and holding them under threat. After a few minutes a sixth mercenary appears, with my documents and passport in his hand, who tries to give them to my master, but a guard stops him with a violent punch in the face, then picks up the fallen documents and gives them to the sultan. He looks through them, checks the papers, and passports, after which he makes me a sign to go. But I wasn't able to get up, in the throes of the separation, I played my last card, I threw myself at his feet and grabbed his ankle, weeping desperately I begged him to save my two friends, sisters of misfortune. I spoke to him in Italian, with words from my heart, I was sure he would understand me, sobbing, I repeatedly asked<save them, save them too oh my master, I beg you, we will be grateful for all our lives, I can't live without them, I'll let myself die without them>.

I don't know if it was my desperate crying, I don't know if he had already planned it, I don't know if he had already bought them, but I felt his hand caress my face, and without using words only gestures, he made me understand that it was all settled. I got up like a suffering soul, but when I saw two of the guards freeing my sisters of their bonds, my heart leaped with joy. I don't remember ever being so happy in my life. We three unfortunates, slaves, treated like animals, were together once more, to face a new destiny that we hoped would be different, more humane, and would allow us to forget those terrible days of endurance and the fight against infamy and cruelty.

 

.... the second part follows.

Thanks: the 18 final pictures are taken from the film “The Sheltering Sky”.

.... return to Diary page