Saïda Springs
"Hafida guards the thermal springs of Saïda. When hydrologist Erik arrives studying groundwater, she shows him sources that science can't map. 'El ma yetkellem' (الماء يتكلّم) - Water speaks."
Saïda's springs had healed pilgrims for millennia. Hafida knew each one's voice.
"Thermal mapping project," Erik explained.
"El ma ma yetmapech." Water can't be mapped. "Yetba'."
It's followed.
Her territory held springs that appeared and vanished, water that chose when to flow.
"This defies hydrology."
"El ma y'aref aktar mn el hydrology."
"Water knows more than science?"
"El ma y'aref koulech."
She was substantial—water-keeper, spring-guardian, rain-reader.
"You find springs how?"
"Ylqawni."
"Springs find you?"
"El ma yetkellem."
Days of measurement confounded him. Erik's instruments disagreed with Hafida's knowledge—and her knowledge was right.
"Here should be dry."
"El ma yji win yebghi."
"Water goes where it wants?"
"Dima."
"Can you teach me to listen?"
"El ma y'allem."
Night brought different springs—hidden, sacred, visited by few.
"Hna el 'ayn el khassa."
"The special spring?"
"Lel shfa."
For healing.
She let him bathe in ancient water.
"Ya latif," he breathed.
"El ma yetkellem." She joined him. "Tesma'?"
"Hafida..."
"El ma qalli."
"Said what?"
"Belli 'atshan."
That you're thirsty.
She kissed him in sacred water, springs blessing.
"Hada..."
"El ma."
She undressed in spring-warmth, her curves flowing.
"Mashallah," he breathed.
"El ma," she said. "Ana ma."
He learned her like learning hydrology—finding sources, following flow.
"Erik," she moaned.
"Hna." He found her spring. "El menba'."
She flowed beneath him, pleasure aquatic.
"Dkhol," she gasped. "El ghous."
He dove into her waters, and understood what hydrology meant.
"El ma yetkellem," she cried.
"Nesma'."
Their rhythm was current—following, finding, filling.
"Qrib," she warned.
"M'aya." He flowed into her. "El ma yetkellem."
They merged together, pleasure watershed. Erik held her through the settling.
"El mapping?" she asked.
"Abandoned."
"Wach yebdel?"
"Listening."
His reports transformed water management—springs as beings, aquifers as communities.
"El approach?" agencies asked.
"El ma yetkellem."
Now he listens beside her, learning what measurements miss.
"El hydrologist w el hafidat el 'uyoun," they say.
"El ma jab'na," Hafida smiles.
"El ma ykhallina," Erik adds.
Some sources never dry.