epilogue

But she trusted in de shadder, an’ she trusted in de shine,/ An’ she longed fo’ one possession: “dat heaben to be mine”;/ An’ she prayed huh chil’en freedom, but she won huhse’f de bes’,—/ Peace on eart’ amids’ huh sorrows, an’ up yonder heabenly res’!
James Weldon Johnson, Black Mammies, The Book of American Negro Poetry, 1922

This story would not have been possible without the help of Sayid bin Azzan bin Sultan al Ghadani, who offered me shade in Selma, Ahmed al Abri, who translated between us, Ali al Mingi, who brought me to the desert, Salim al Hajri, the rally champion who raced Abu Shenabs and the innumerable Bedu fishermen along the Sharqiya coast who love driving where there are no roads. It is only through such people that cars are turned into legends.

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