There Are Rivers in the Sky

by Elif Shafak

A faqra, they tell him, can detect things that others walk past without noticing. She knows the landscape in the way a reed warbler knows the ins and outs of marsh waters. She can tell a storm from the flight of herons, the shape of ant hills or the antics of spiders. A faqra learns things she wishes she never did and, once she does, she cannot unlearn them. This is why it is said that they die early, their hearts unable to carry the burden for too long. That first night in the village, Arthur learns that to be a Yazidi one must be born into the faith. Since no one can convert in or marry out, and since the community has been attacked and forcefully converted so many times, its population remains small in number in comparison with their neighbors. The sheikh’s adopted daughter comes from a long line of seers. They recount the past and predict the future, unveil mysteries that remain shrouded from the rest of us. Although a gift, it is also an affliction that must be borne with dignity. The faqrya live in a temporal zone of their own, a cyclical history that spools back to the beginning of time. They understand the echoes through centuries, ride the waves of suffering, collect the remains of stories. They are the custodians of knowledge, the memory-keepers. In a culture where very little, if ever, is put into writing, they are the librarians.