THERE was once a camel named Jidaar was the name of that camel. “Jidaar” means brave and strong, like a mount. For many years the two-metre giant earnestly served the people of the desert in many ways: pulled ploughs, turned water wheels to irrigate the crops, carried people and heavy loads to places that had no roads.

When he became old, people stopped assigning him any work, caring for the ageing animal. But though all his time now was spent resting, Jidaar was not happy — he felt useless and lonely.

One day a boy approached the camel that was sitting bored and lonely, and offered him a treat — a handful of freshly ripen aromatic dates. The boy was small and bony, no more than eight years old.

“My name is Murad,” said the boy. “And you are Jidaar. Let’s be friends.”

Murad visited the camel every day, never forgetting to bring his friend a treat. He would narrate the happenings of the day, gently stroking the long neck of the animal, and Jidaar, as if understanding everything, would agreeably nod its head in a funny way. At times, to entertain its little buddy, the camel would kneel before the boy, inviting him to take a ride.

It the end of May, when the blistering sun dried up the desert plantation, Murad used to take the camel with him to collect firewood. Fluffy bundles of thin wood were not heavy, but the old camel carried them with pride, with its head up and chest rounded — after all, he was again working, helping people.

One day in search of fire stock, they wandered far away from their village. In this part of the desert there were a lot of dried wood, and Murad enthusiastically set on to work. When the last bundle was loaded on the camel, the sun had already reached the zenith.

It was getting really hot. Feeling thirsty, Murad reached for water bottle only to discover that he had forgotten it at home. The house was far off, and Murad decided to turn to the Big Takyr. Takyr was a flat solid ground with a heavy clay soil, which was submerged in water after seasonal rains. Though by now much of the water would have evaporated, forming a dried crust on the ground surface, Murad was sure he could still find there some pits filled with water.

They spotted Takyr from a distance — the salt from the evaporated water made the crust shine white under the sun like a mirror.

Jidar, who was nonchalantly walking on the glittery ground, abruptly halted, refusing to go forth.

“Look,” Murad tried to reason him. “The house is far away, and it would be very hard on us without water.”

However the stubborn animal did not move an inch.

“Then I’ll go alone,” giving up, Murad turned to proceed to the nearest water reservoir when Jidaar seize the back of the boy’s shirt with his mouth and forcefully pulled it.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Murad was genuinely puzzled. “Probably, it’s because of heat. Let’s get water and quench the thirst!”

Still, Jidaar did not follow his friend. The ground was springy and bounced under his feet, like the dried top of dough, but the boy took no notice of it. The pit with water was no more than few steps away, when suddenly Murad sank to his knees in the soil.

He jerked to free his legs and could not do it — the sticky, viscous mud was engulfing him with every second. He shifted his weight to his hands, trying to keep the balance, but the treacherous soil caved in, the water beginning to seep out from the cracks.

“Jidaar!” he shouted in despair.

The camel took few steps on the uneven ground, but then landed on its belly and started to crawl.

The soil was sagging under the camel but it managed to reach Murad, grabbed his shirt with its teeth and pulled it, moving back from the dreadful place.

The quagmire squished, but Murad was already free. He moved closer to Jidaar, hugged him and rubbed his head against the funny head of the camel.

“I’m sorry, Jidaar,” he whispered to his wise friend. “Now let’s run off from here right away!”

Jidaar looked up at the boy with sad, kind eyes and did not move. And only now Murad realised how deeply the land sagged under the camel. The ruthless quicksand released the boy, but was about to swallow the animal.

“Jidaar! My friend! Please hold on!” Murad ripped off the wood bundles from the back of the camel and tucked them under his belly and, without looking back, raced in the direction of the village.

He could not remember how many times he fell, stood up and run again. He never rested to gather his strength, but crawled instead, because he knew that the quagmire would not wait.

When he reached the home, all he managed was only a sigh “Save Jidaar, it saved me!”, and the next moment he fell unconscious.

In the morning, when Murad woke up, there was nobody in the room.

“Jidaar!” remembered the boy and jumped up. His legs were weak and the head was slightly spinning, yet he reached the door and went outside.

Jidaar was standing near the house, and in front of him there was placed a big bunch of dried herbage. It stopped chewing and turned its head to the boy. And Murad laughed as the grass protruded from the mouth of Jidaar in all directions, like a funny moustache.