by Manai, Yamen
The university is in danger, like many places where the mind shines. Yesterday we feared amnesia and abandonment; today we dread fire and destruction. Now they’re telling us how to talk and dress, but soon they’ll tell us how to think. What will be on the agenda for tomorrow?
Since the Party of God’s rise to power, pressure groups have formed under its indifferent and often complicit gaze. They’re gnawing at the foundations of our culture from below. And above, a new wind is blowing, dry and arid like the desert in which it formed, carrying black flags and imported ideas. These groups reject the idea of a sovereign nation-state and attack its symbols and representatives. They extol a utopia of beards and veils, of lash-covered backs, of cut-off hands and heads. An empire in which every man would be mutilated, lacerated, or amputated, for what man has not sinned?
Light knocking at the door stirred him from his writing. He stood up. It was Jannet and Sidi. He kissed his wife and shook her guest’s hand, then invited them to sit. He knew Sidi vaguely, the way you know a distant relative. He knew the role he had played in his wife’s childhood and he had a distinct memory of the taste of his honey, as the old man had continued to send them, through some cousins, jars from each new harvest.
As Jannet told the whole story, Sidi silently nodded in agreement. Tahar noted his features and his eyes—a distinctive combination of humility, hope, and determination. Rare dignity too. He looked like a knowledge seeker.
“I need your help,” Sidi said, holding out the jar.
Tahar’s eyes opened wide before the creature.
“I’ll do my best.”
23
The university library was losing its luster, though it was still one of the school’s remaining gems. Dust covered many of its shelves, and often a visitor in search of information would feel like they were excavating a tomb. Despite this fossilized atmosphere and need for renovations, Sidi saw books glinting in the library aisles and felt as if he were beneath the vault of a starry sky, built of words, atop columns of ink and paper. Here was the divinity of man; here was his true temple.
He sensed that this was where he would find answers to his questions, and he advanced slowly and surely, following his guides to the life-sciences wing.
Perched on a stepladder, Tahar unearthed a multivolume encyclopedia that provided an inventory of the insects recorded by man. He blew on the book covers and ran his hand over them several times, as if to bring them back to life. Sidi set the jar on a table, upon which Tahar carefully lined up the volumes. The dean skimmed the foreword and found the year of publication: 1977.
“If this species is at least forty years old, we should find it listed here.”
“This species is as old as the world. What’s new is seeing it in Nawa.”
Sidi paged through a volume, stumbling on the Latin letters that made up its lines. He set it down. He could only read Arabic, his mother tongue, but he knew that it was no longer the best steed for galloping along new paths of knowledge. Tahar noticed his disappointment and apologized profusely.
“I’m so sorry. Unfortunately, we don’t have an encyclopedia in Arabic. Either written or translated. We’ll look for you.”
The couple split up the volumes, which were organized by world region. While Jannet flew through Europe from north to south, Tahar searched Africa and the Mediterranean Basin. And though they were in a rush, they couldn’t help but marvel at the portrait of a graceful butterfly or a bumblebee that had disappeared since their childhood, expelled from nature by the urban jungle.
Pages upon pages of photos of insects, crowned by their scientific names and details about their existences, but not the slightest trace of the mysterious creature.
Could it have come from even farther away?
They opened the books for the rest of the world. Tahar swept through the Americas, and Jannet roamed East Asia. Midvoyage, she stopped at one page with a start. “Come look!”
The two men rushed over. She laid the book wide open on the table. The hornet was there, pinned down, photographed, identified, ready to confess its secrets.
“Is that really it?” Tahar asked Sidi, who was carefully examining the image.
“I think so,” he answered, eyes shining in excitement.
But he still needed to be sure.
“Read!” he demanded.
Tahar translated each line aloud. He began by stating its scientific name: “‘Vespa mandarinia.’”
He continued: “‘Described for the first time in the nineteenth century by British entomologist Frederick Smith, the Vespa mandarinia, or the giant Asian hornet, is the largest hornet species in the world. Its nest is most often found in high branches. The size of a basketball, it is built by the queen using tree bark, which, once chewed and pasted, gives the nest the appearance of cardboard. Solid and perfectly opaque, a single opening at the lower end allows its inhabitants to come and go.’”
The image of the necropolis he had discovered at Douda’s home crossed Sidi’s mind.
Tahar read on: “‘Adapted to tropical and temperate climates, this species occupies a large territory that stretches from east Afghanistan to southern Japan, covering India, Burma, and Thailand. In the adult stage, the giant Asian hornet can reach a length of nearly three inches. It is equipped with a quarter-inch-long stinger, with which it injects a powerful venom. The giant Asian hornet is an unrivaled hunter. Its preferred prey are bees, praying mantises, and other species of social hymenoptera, such as wasps and smaller hornets. Giant Asian hornets frequently decimate entire hives of bees during cluster attacks. After spotting and marking a hive with their pheromones, scouts, often alone, but occasionally in groups of two or three, return to their nest to seek reinforcements. Giant hornets, which measure five times the length and are twenty times the weight of a bee, can devastate a colony in a short period of time. A single hornet can kill forty bees per minute, thanks to its large jaws.’”
“Ya Latif!” prayed Jannet.
Sidi nodded repeatedly to confirm the descriptions and the indicated modus operandi. In all likelihood, this was the creature. Though its origin was improbable, its encroachment was very real.
Tahar resumed reading: “‘When all the hive’s defenses have been eliminated, the hornets feed on the honey and bring bee larvae back to their nest to feed their own larvae. The majority of bees in Asia were imported from Europe for honey production and are not equipped with natural defenses against the giant hornets. Their hives are particularly vulnerable. Only Japanese bees, the Apis mellifera japonica, have succeeded in developing an effective defense technique, called the ardent swarm. Refer to appendix.’”
“The ardent swarm?”
“The ardent swarm,” confirmed Tahar.
Sidi wasn’t missing a word.
“‘The sting of a giant Asian hornet provokes intense pain in humans due to the venom delivered by the stinger. Multiple stings not treated in time can lead to respiratory problems and liver and kidney failure. Approximately forty deaths are reported each year as a result of giant hornet attacks. Though this species only targets humans when disturbed or threatened, its attacks are nonetheless violent and ferocious, as targets may be pursued for over half a mile at a speed of more than twenty-five miles per hour.’ That’s the end of the article.”
Jannet invoked the mercy of God as Sidi finished committing all the information to memory.
“Can you read the appendix?” he asked.
Even though his bees weren’t Japanese, he was curious to know.
Tahar read: “‘The ardent swarm is a defense developed by the Apis mellifera japonica against attacks by giant hornets. When the japonica detect the presence of a scout intending to mark their hive, they encircle it by the hundreds; they then close in, forming a ball with their bodies, the hornet at its center. They begin to collectively vibrate, wing against wing, and bring the ball’s temperature up to 113° Fahrenheit. This temperature is fatal for the giant hornet. Bees, however, can survive temperatures up to 1
18°. The japonica are the only bees known to exploit this defensive trait. Once the hornet has burned to death, the swarm dissipates. The bees clean any traces of pheromones and resume work.’”
Tahar raised his head, fascinated. The appendix included color photos and infrared images that illustrated the ardent swarm throughout the process, and the roasted hornet that resulted.
“Sobhanou!” cried Jannet. Glory to God!
Sidi was pensive. This ardent swarm was a marvel of nature. Here was the piece of science he’d been missing. After all these years of beekeeping, his apprenticeship wasn’t over. Perhaps his girls still had some secrets to reveal to him.
24
At the library exit, Sidi bent over to kiss his hosts’ hands in gratitude. They hurriedly stood him back up and reversed positions. His ignorance was theirs as well. Without him, they never would have known.
Outside, the sun was waning, and the shadows outnumbered the living. The country roads had been dangerous for some time now, and drivers no longer took them at night. For Jannet, it was out of the question for Sidi to return to Nawa that evening.
“You’ll stay at our house. That way you can sleep on it.”
She was determined not to let him confront those creatures alone.
Jannet and Tahar lived in a working-class suburb in the south of the capital. When they had bought a piece of land and built their home there, vines and olive trees had stretched as far as the horizon. But for decades, the neighborhood had been developing without any specific urbanization plan, exhausting the flora and fauna, but leaving residents the joys of flies and mosquitoes feasting in their trash cans.
And yet they far preferred their house to a fancy mansion facing the Eiffel Tower. Every stone that formed their home was soaked with their sweat.
Jannet served a light dinner. After that afternoon’s discovery, no one had much of an appetite. They were seated at the table, preoccupied, aware they were up against a formidable enemy.
Eradicating this species is no mean feat. It’s already established itself, Sidi thought aloud.
“Alert the authorities?” suggested Tahar without much conviction.
“The ones who can’t even handle mosquitoes?” Jannet retorted. “We should, I agree, but if you think that it’ll change anything . . .”
They eventually stopped talking.
Sidi was rewinding through the information from the encyclopedia. A giant hornet could kill as many as forty bees per minute. Did he have any chance of saving his girls? Wasn’t it just a question of time before he saw them massacred, every last one?
Tahar and Jannet, heads lowered, stared at the vegetables on their plates. What if suddenly it was all gone? The equation was so simple that its simplicity rendered it unreal and almost unfathomable. No more bees: no more pollination. No more pollination: no more harvests. No more harvests: hello, famine. There wasn’t enough in people’s bellies as it was.
Jannet broke the silence. “Our bees don’t know how to do this ardent thing?”
Sidi shook his head. After a beat, he added, “But they can learn.”
“How’s that?”
He explained: “Because they come up against so many parasites, bees develop different defense techniques. When confronted by a parasite that it’s never encountered, a hive may be vulnerable. But by introducing a foreign queen, familiar with the parasite’s dangers, and used to defending herself, the beekeeper assures the transmission of appropriate behavior to new generations of bees.”
Jannet grasped the significance. “That’s genetic transmission!”
“You mean that with Japanese queens, you’d be able to raise generations of bees capable of the ardent swarm?” asked Tahar.
Sidi nodded.
After dinner, Tahar prepared a bed for his guest and returned to the living room. He knelt before a present that had been in his home for many years—a Japanese geisha doll. She appeared even more intriguing now. He could hear Jannet talking to herself in the kitchen. He didn’t know how this story would end, but he was sure of one thing: his wife wasn’t going to let Sidi face this danger alone.
25
In the middle of the night, Tahar felt Jannet’s elbow in his side.
“Tahar!”
“What?”
“I just had a dream.”
“That’s great. Now go to sleep,” he said, turning over.
No luck, she kept going.
“Tahar! I just told you that I had a dream!”
“A good omen if God wills it,” he mumbled, trying to end the conversation.
But she continued. “Yes, I think so. I saw Saïda Manoubia. She told me that the two of us were going to go to Japan, find a queen breeder, and bring that poor man back a Japanese queen.”
Tahar smiled in the dark. She was starting to maneuver, making a strong argument right out the gate. A prophetic dream. Whenever she wanted to embark on a risky undertaking, she slept, woke up, and then explained to him that the saint had blessed her and recommended she do this or that. He couldn’t help but tease her. He was a logical man and didn’t believe in superstitions. In his mind, if these dreams were real, they were merely his wife’s unconscious taking over from her conscious desires. And if they came true, it was thanks to her tenacity rather than their prophetic nature.
“Oh yeah? She told you that? It’s crazy how she knows about all this.”
Jannet turned on the bedside lamp, prompting his protests.
“I’m not kidding!” she insisted.
Tahar covered his eyes and asked, “And did she tell you what money we’ll use to finance this fabulous voyage?”
“The money is my concern. All you have to do is come with me.”
“What do you mean the money’s your concern?” said Tahar, still shielding himself from the light with his hand. “Do you have any idea how much a ticket to Japan costs? You know it’s the other side of the world, right?”
“I know that we know someone there, and that a trip to the other side of the world isn’t any more expensive than a pilgrimage to Mecca.”
Tahar dropped his hand. His eyes had gotten used to the light, and he could see Jannet’s intentions more clearly as well.
“You would do that? You would do that for this man?”
“Yes, I would. I can, so I will.”
Because she’d been dying to walk upon holy land, her children had gifted her the money for the trip when she’d retired. She had been planning to go this year or the next, but Mecca would wait.
“So you’ll come with me?”
Seeing that her question was simple to the point of complication, Tahar opted to go back to sleep without responding.
When they woke up, Sidi was gone. He left them a note on the nightstand.
Dearest Jannet and Tahar,
I had to leave early to return to my girls. Thank you for your invaluable help. If ever the happy opportunity arises, come visit me in Nawa and bring Farah with you. The country air will do her good. May God bless you.
Sitting on the terrace, in front of their cups of coffee, Jannet started up again.
“You know, when I fell back asleep, after you fell back asleep . . .”
“Yes?”
“I saw Saïda Manoubia again.”
“Again?!”
“Yes. She told me that I would bring a beautiful queen back from Japan and that it wasn’t a big deal if you didn’t go.”
Tahar choked on his coffee.
“She told you all that?”
“Yes, she did!”
“You’re not going to Japan because your uncle chased down a hornet!”
“My uncle didn’t come down from his hill because he chased down a hornet, but because its buddies destroyed one of his hives and there’s a big chance it’ll happen again, to him and to other beekeepers.”
“Come on! Be reasonable!”
“When I listen to my brain, it tells me to go. When I listen to my heart, it tells me to go, and when I listen to Saïda, she tells
me to go.”
“For pity’s sake, enough with Saïda already!” he entreated her. “Do you really think that bringing back a few queens is enough to fight an invasion of an entire region, an entire country?”
“I know it won’t be enough. But it’ll be a start. After that they’ll get it! Bees reproduce even faster than hornets. They’ll be everywhere!”
“And your children? They didn’t give you that chunk of money for this trip. Not to mention, they barely know your uncle.”
“I’ll explain it to them. And if they don’t support me, well, too bad. I’ll tell myself that I made a mess of bringing them up and I’ll go anyway.”
Wow, she’s stubborn, he thought, watching her. She could wear down anyone and everyone with her relentless determination.
“What do you have to lose?” she continued. “You can’t turn down an all-expenses-paid trip. Wouldn’t you like to see a geisha for real?”
“I wouldn’t not like to.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Tahar finished his coffee, then went inside to sit in his favorite spot in the living room. He stared at the geisha in her glass box for a long time. He’d already begun thinking about her, at the university library, when their quest brought them to the chapter about Japan.
The years had gone by, changing the scenery and generations around them, but the geisha was still the same: straight posture, face meticulously made up, perfectly tied red flower kimono, and an impeccable bun. Small feet in white socks, and her hands, one holding a white fan and the other extending a delicate palm, the final, graceful touch. Her aura extended beyond the panes. She might have just been a doll in a box, but there was no doubt—something in her had charmed him.