‘I kept inhaling in search of my Borneo, but the rose was all over the night air, everywhere, hovering above us like a cloud. If you opened your mouth you could taste it. Then something interesting happened and I caught a whiff of the wood… I gave out swipes of this on the walk one night. The brothers were all lined up against the wall facing the Zawiya, waiting for the Sheikh to come out.
‘What’s this, Sidi?’
‘Pour it on me, that’s right. Don’t think about it.’
‘Jazak Allah khayr. Fantastic.’
‘Whoa, that’s thick!’
Kruger just put his hand forward, sparing the syllables.
‘Nice. Where’s this from?’ Hasan said.
‘Borneo. Ever seen one this thick?’
‘No. That smells amazing. Ma sha Allah!’
‘It’s incredibly sweet and sticky. Like molasses. You see that with Cambodis. Never with Borneos.’
Then the Sheikh came out and we started walking in silence, each one reciting his dhikr on his misbaha.
It was a cool night, and as we walked I was greeted by a dazzling rose aroma that hovered above us like a cloud. ‘Whoever’s got the rose on is surely piling all the hasanat,’ I thought. I was hoping to catch a whiff of the Borneo, but the rose was just too potent, bright and resplendent to allow for any base notes to get close.
I kept inhaling in search of my Borneo, but the rose was all over the night air, everywhere, hovering above us like a cloud. If you opened your mouth you could taste it. Then something interesting happened and I caught a whiff of the wood. It was yellow, sparkling, golden orange blossom honey, but it was quickly elbowed by the rose again.
As we turned on the road to the kaziya, the wood was there again. Zesty wood that smelled almost like oud wood but which in fact smelled like pure rose. Then it hit me. The rose was it. My Borneo, my sticky, thick, honeyed Borneo was pulling the rose stunt all along. Only now the heart notes were coming out, and I could get a lot of the wood underneath the rose. I couldn’t believe it.
The Sheikh turned around when we reached the end of the road, and we were walking toward the Zawiya again. I shifted position, getting close to each of the brothers to make sure there was no rose wearer in the crew. The rose cloud was there, above each one equally fine and unbelievable, and I was sure it was the Borneo.
When the walk was over, Kamran came up to me, his eyes big like ping pong balls.
‘Sidi! Did you smell that?’
‘Sure did. I couldn’t believe it myself.’
‘That was in-credible. I never experienced anything like that before. Amazing. The quality reminded me of the 4000. My God. What an oil!’
‘I’d be scared to ask what something like that goes for,’ Yusuf said.
‘Oh not too much. You can get one for five-fifty, and it’ll last you a year.’
‘Oh my God. I still can’t believe I just smelled something like that,’ Kamran went on. ‘I’m going to have to come over to your house. Really. We haven’t discussed calligraphy yet. I’m sure it’s going to be very educational. That was fan-tastic…’
‘Slm,’ Kruger said to someone, which meant ‘Wa alaykum as salaam.’ – Ensar Oud
