Aman iman(Water is Life)
Tags: kirk/mccoy halloween
Title:Aman iman(Water is Life)
Author:peggy-crane27
Pairing:Kirk/McCoy
Rating:First chapter-no rating, the good stuff comes later.
Summary:Leonard McCoy a photojournalist has come to a small Tuareg village in Niger to interview a man he has become fascinated with through research. The leader of a village who is changing the face of the desert, K'irk.
Disclaimer:Ain't mine, wish it was, but you know what they say about wishes.
Author's Note:The Tuareg are a real nomadic people who live in and around the Sahara in Africa. K'irk is an amalgam of things I have read and a dear Tuareg friend named Moussa al Baka.
Leonard McCoy stepped off the plane in Agadez, Niger, winds like a blast furnace hitting him in the face, almost stealing the breath from his lungs. The average mean temperature in the summer in the Sahel(sub Sahara desert) in the high 110's, making life interesting at best, a constant struggle at worst. Walking across the tarp to the small airport, he went to claims to collect the rest of his luggage, his backpack with his PADD and camera safely on his left shoulder. Collecting it, he went out front looking for his guide to T'chibeniten, the small village he was to go to, to meet the Tuareg Amenokal(chief) K'irk, the subject of the story he was writing for Intergalactic Geographic. The young man that held the sign with his name was unassuming, dressed in the traditional shesh(turban) and lighter breeches, shirt and outer cloak of a Tuareg tribesman, he introduced himself as Moussa, a cousin of K'irk, and gestured to the long legged white camel that would bear him to the village, and the meeting. Moussa helped him climb into the intricate saddle, climbed into the saddle of his own mount and they were off.
Being midday, the sun was high, beating down on him mercilessly, removing a ballcap from his pack, he covered his head, and put on sunglasses against the vicious glare off the seemingly endless dunes. Camels seldom run, so the pace was leisurely as they were carried across the expanse. Which gave Leonard time for reflection, as writers will do.
He'd first heard of K'irk when a discovery had been researched by another reporter with Intergalactic Geographic. A Tuareg man, educated in the United States of America, had found a way to reclaim desert land. Hundreds of years of droughts could be reversed, making fertile land for the nomadic peoples of Africa free from famine, and the accompanying disease which was a tragic result. Educated in Texas at Texas A&M University, K'irk was rapidly becoming a hero to the United States of Africa, his discoveries in Agriculture bringing about rapid change, crop increases, and the ability to raise more, healthier cattle than had been possible for generations.
Leonard looked at the face of the man displayed on his PADD. Blue eyes, like the sky. Piercing, as though they could see into his soul as easily as the lens of the camera taking the photo. Strong chin, heavy eyebrows, and lips that looked soft, warm...Leonard shook himself mentally. This was professional. He couldn't let himself be shaken by that face, that face that looked familiar. As though he'd been looking for it his entire life. He'd been enthralled. Had read every paper written by the man, every interview, watched every appearance the man had made over the last three years on SpaceYouTube. He couldn't stop thinking about him. Imagining what the man was like. Heard that voice in his dreams, slightly accented, his laugh full, the little snort when he was completely amused. He'd finally found the opening he needed six months ago. K'irk would be unveiling a new technique for water retrieval, McCoy had pitched the idea for the story to his editor, and convinced him. As the village of little over a thousand came into view, McCoy put his PADD away, getting ready to meet a true leader, a hero even.
Looking up toward the sun, he saw a lone figure atop a dune. A tall white camel at his side. As though he'd been waiting for Leonard, his gaze travelled to him. Their eyes met. That blue. That mesmerizing blue. Leonard could not look away, pinioned, speechless, shaken. Neither man would ever be the same.
******************************
"Mr. McCoy!" Moussa called for his attention as they approached the edge of the village.
Leonard looked at the man, nodding his head acknowledging his presence, he paused to take out a handkerchief, removing the ball cap, he swiped at his sweaty forehead, replacing the cap as he stole a look at the dune K'irk had been overseeing his arrival from. Nothing, the man and his ride were gone. Squashing his disappointment, Leonard moved forward beside Moussa as he led their mounts by their leads, Leonard walking into the bustle of daily life in T'chibeniten. Hot soft breezes blew past him, as he watched the simple people move through their routines. Beautiful women dressed in indigo cloth, wrapped around their bodies, held by brass pins made by enad(smiths) their heads covered with long indigo shawls, to protect them from the harsh winds of the Sahara. They tended fires that the evening meal was being prepared over, watched their children, reclined against their men, their faces content. Goats were corraled off to his right, their scent and their sounds carried on the wind. Young men called on the tents of young women, hoping for approval from their fathers that they might court them. Children, the very young, naked, the older ones watching out for them, laughed and played, always under the watchful eyes of their parents. One woman was in the middle of a lesson, two boys watching as she scratched the characters of Tifinagh(Tuareg alphabet) in the sand, then copied as she smiled and nodded her approval.
Leonard marvelled at the contentment on the faces of every man, woman, and child as he followed through the tented village. The 23rd century, and these people were not scrabbling for wealth or power like so many others across the galaxy, they just...lived.
Moussa stopped in front of a tent, motioning Leonard inside, "K'irk." He said by way of explanation, turning to continue on to the camel pen at the other end of the small community. They had reached the middle of T'chibeniten without Leonard realizing it, so fascinated by their way of life. The tent he stood in front of was larger than the others, almost mahogany in color, stitched carefully together, a courtyard with a raised covering to protect the interior from the blazing sun, where K'irk would hear news, discuss plans with the elders, see to the needs of his people. Daring a glance inside, he saw a bright goat leather pillow, in turquoise, reds, yellows, and more mahogany accented on the ends with white and black leather fringe. Surrounding the pillow were books. So many books. PADDs, which surprised him, because Tuareg are nomads who stay in place for only six months at a time. They eschewed modern conveniences such as electricity. Charts, maps, and notebooks, of handmade paper, bound in more brightly colored goat leather. Another surprise once seeing the PADDs. But then, K'irk was a man filled with surprises.
"Curious, Mr. McCoy?" The quiet voice startled him. Turning, he came face to face with his current obsession. Standing in the entrance to the tent, the evening sun at his back, hands clasped behind him, waves of calm, and confidence rolling off of him, Leonard McCoy looked into the bluest eyes, in the most serene face he had ever encountered in his life. And couldn't remember how to breathe.
*********************