Read Online The Turtle of Oman by Naomi Shihab Nye - Free Book Online

wore the perfect shirt. Remember when we went there a few years ago, but had to leave quickly because of the sandstorm? Remember the baby camel that kept licking your head?” He turned right at the corner.
    Aref laughed. “The baby camel thought I was its mother. No, father. That was crazy. Sand was getting in its eyes so it couldn’t see clearly. It is probably grown up by now.”
    â€œIt is probably in Saudi Arabia, drinking tea,” Sidi said, stopping at a traffic light. “Do you have your toothbrush?”
    â€œYes! I even have underpants!”
    Sidi laughed and said, “It is always fun to have an expedition, no?” Now he turned left toward the brown hills and mountains and the white ribbon of highway heading out of the city. A giant oil tanker truck lumbered past them going in the other direction, making a huge roaring sound. They passed gas stations, and a falafel restaurant, and a store for furniture and lamps. They passed a high school with a soccer field and a water filtering plant.
    â€œCan we pass by the turtle beach?” Aref asked.
    â€œOn our way home,” said Sidi, “we’ll see what’s happening with the turtles. We’ll find out if any remember us. Right now we’re going to drive up the road through the wild olive trees. Keep your eyes open for vultures. I’d like to take a turn to see one old friend on the way, if it’s fine with you.”
    â€œIs his name Mohammed?”
    Sidi laughed. “In fact, it is.”
    All Sidi’s old friends were named Mohammed. Mohammed was a very precious name. In fact, Sidi’s own name was Mohammed—but Aref never called him that.
    â€œHow long will we stay there, Sidi?”
    â€œNot too long. Just long enough to get gas and chewing gum and sesame crackers and guava juice and sit on a big rock and ask Mohammed how his life is going. Later we will find a secret cave filled with prehistoric bones. . . .”
    â€œReally? Bones?”
    â€œNot really. But last time I drove up here, I saw a cave that might have some. Would you like to check?”
    â€œCan we look for fossils too?”
    This was the way they talked for miles and miles, syllables unrolling with the pavement. Were those goats or sheep? Well, maybe both, goats and sheep probably got along fine in the field. Did they speak the same language? Aref liked the large goats with horns. Near a tiny house beside an old stone well, blue towels flapped on a line. A girl wearing a red dress ran through a golden field carrying something yellow, like a stuffed bear.
    Sidi and Aref rumbled along in Monsieur till the city felt far behind them.
    â€œLook at that house,” said Aref, pointing at another run-down little house the size of one room. “Who do you think lives there?”
    â€œObviously someone older than me,” said Sidi.
    To the left, up among some huge brown boulders, a truck seemed abandoned. “Why is that truck sitting in the middle of the field?” asked Aref.
    â€œA hopeful uncle got lost searching for precious gems.”
    â€œWhere is he now?”
    â€œAt the bank.”
    A white school bus passed them going the other way. Three large white vans followed the bus. “Looks like a field trip,” Sidi said. There wasn’t too much traffic headed toward the mountains, though.
    â€œWhat’s that smoke over there?” asked Aref. Large plumes floated over a distant slope.
    â€œIt’s not smoke. It’s dust. I heard they’re building a new fancy neighborhood way out from the city, with good views, and the houses will all have swimming pools.”
    â€œWe will have a swimming pool in Michigan,” said Aref. “Did I tell you that? The other night, I thought I heard a wolf howling. Or maybe it was that fox in our neighborhood—Ummi Salwa told my mom she saw it sitting in the moonlight on her porch.”
    Sidi said, “Hmmm, did she open the door? I heard