Aïn Salah Awakening
"Mbarka maintains the ancient foggara irrigation in Aïn Salah. When climate scientist Elena arrives studying traditional water management, she shows her that some systems survive what modernity cannot. 'El ma yebqa' (الماء يبقى) - Water remains."
Aïn Salah's foggaras had survived droughts that killed modern systems. Mbarka kept them flowing.
"Traditional irrigation assessment?" Elena proposed.
"El foggara ma yet'assessech." Foggara isn't assessed. "Yethdarr."
It's tended.
Her tunnels moved water from mountains to gardens—gravity, genius, generations.
"How does it function without pumps?"
"El ma y'aref wayn yemchi."
"Water knows where to go?"
"El ma yebqa."
She was substantial—tunnel-keeper, body that had crawled through channels for decades.
"What's the flow rate?"
"Ma nqisech."
"Every system needs measurement."
"El ma y'aref measurement ta'ou."
Days underground taught her. Elena saw water respond to Mbarka—flowing clearer, running stronger.
"This defies hydrology."
"El ma yebqa."
"Water remains?"
"Dima."
"Even in climate change?"
"El ma y'aref el change. Y'aref bass el ma."
Night brought different tending—channels cleared by moonlight, prayers said to water.
"Tesma' el ma?"
"El ma yetkellem."
"Water talks?"
"El ma yebqa—w yetkellem."
"Mbarka..."
"El ma qalli."
"Water told you?"
"Yqoul you're thirsty."
She kissed her water-blessed.
"Hada..."
"El 'ayn el jadida."
She undressed in tunnel darkness, her curves flowing.
"Dios mío," Elena breathed.
"El ma," Mbarka said. "Ana ma."
Elena followed her like following water—finding channels, understanding flow.
"Mbarka," she moaned.
"Hna." She was found. "El wadi."
Mbarka flowed beneath her, pleasure irrigated.
"Dkhol," she gasped. "El foggara."
Elena channeled into her, and understood what survival meant.
"El ma yebqa," Mbarka cried.
"Fina."
Their rhythm was water—constant, patient, life-giving.
"Qrib," Mbarka warned.
"M'aya." She flowed into her. "El ma yebqa."
They remained together, pleasure eternal. Elena held her through the seasons.
"El research?" Mbarka asked.
"Transformed."
"Kifeh?"
"Traditional systems first."
Her climate work transformed—valuing foggaras, questioning pumps.
"El approach?" science asked.
"El ma yebqa."
Now she tends beside her, learning what models miss.
"El climate scientist w el hafidat el foggara," they say.
"El ma jab'tna," Mbarka smiles.
"El ma ykhallina," Elena adds.
Some water flows forever.