Oasis 

I am Mansa Musa, the King of Kings.

At last, the oasis. We reached it in the late afternoon. Many of my caravan ran to the water's edge and drank until they could not drink anymore. The camel's thirst has been quenched also. Tonight will be a night of singing, dancing, and praising Allah. Our waterskins have been completely refilled, but we plan to stay another night to rest and recuperate. The desert is extraordinarily taxing. Sitting next to this oasis, my thoughts turn once more to home. How is my son dealing with the burden of leadership placed upon him? Perhaps I worry unnecessarily, but I worry nonetheless. Will he be strong enough after I am gone to fend off invaders or raiders? I can subjugate many kingdoms, but once I no longer rule this land what will they do? Perhaps they will see my son as a weak successor to the throne. Perhaps he will be. This desert has the curious effect of turning my thoughts toward the future, and instantly darkening it. I have struggled to remain hopeful and optimistic throughout this journey. Indeed, only the thought of the holy city of Mecca at the end of this ordeal has kept me going. It will better once I am out of this oppressive desert. I do not know when I will write again, or if I will even be inclined to do so. Time will tell.