The Moon of Masarrah

by Farah Zaman

  The Shaykh paused here to take a few sips of lemonade before he continued. “Even though the cousin had called for a substantial amount of money, it was still not even a fraction of what the gem was really worth. The fence was very angry as you can imagine. He hastened to the docks to look for the ship, but it had already left port. The cousin was found the next day with his throat cut and the fence was arrested and sentenced to death for the murder. From that day on, the Moon vanished and was never heard of again. My uncle, fearing repercussion should his evil deed come to light, did not tell a single soul until he was on his deathbed. That is my story,” the Shaykh concluded. “Now tell me,” he looked imploringly at Mr. Horani, “did anyone on the Yuhanza ever mention a diamond?”

  There was a long silence as Mr. Horani stared into space. Then he turned to the Shaykh and said slowly, “Yes, my father did mention a diamond.” Drawing an audible breath, he said, “On the night he was murdered.”

  “Murdered,” the Shaykh exclaimed. “Will you not tell me what happened?”

  Mr. Horani’s face bore a pensive expression, as if his mind was digging deep into the past. Finally, he began to speak. “My father came back from his last voyage on what came to be known as the Night of Catastrophe. As you must know, it was the culmination of several days of bloody warfare by the rebel group who had staged a coup. We knew that the Yuhanza was due to dock that evening, but that it should coincide with that ill-fated event was a terrible act of misfortune. For you see, we were warned only that afternoon by one of my mother’s cousins, that the rebels were planning to come to our house that night to seize my father. He had always been a vocal critic of their politics and for this reason they resented him, especially since he was a foreigner.”

  “It is always politics that causes trouble among our ranks,” the Shaykh murmured. “But please, carry on with your story.”

  Mr. Horani continued, “My mother’s cousin advised us to hide in Bayan Woods that night and promised that upon the Yuhanza’s arrival in port, he would send a messenger to warn my father not to go home but to join us there. So my mother gathered up some food and other essentials and her cousin helped us to pitch a tent in the woods. Several hours passed and there was still no sign of my father. It was only later that we would learn that the messenger who had been sent to warn him had been killed by the rebels and having no idea of the danger that awaited him there, my father made straight for home. By that time, my mother was so frantic with worry that she wanted to go look for him herself. Having some inkling of the harm that would have befallen her were she to be found by the rebels, I persuaded her to let me go instead. With great reluctance she agreed, and I immediately set out for the house, taking all precautions to keep out of sight. When I got there, it was dark and silent. Peeping into the window, I didn’t see any of the rebels, so I lit a candle and crept in quietly. That’s when I saw my father. He was lying on the floor in a pool of blood and groaning painfully. The rebels had got him after all. They had stabbed him with his own dagger and left him to die.”

  As Mr. Horani’s voice became choked with emotion, he paused for a moment to collect himself before continuing, “My father recognized me and asked about my mother and sisters. Then he whispered to me that he had hidden the diamond in the house. That’s all he was able to say before he died. My mother questioned his crewmen about this diamond but none of them seemed to know anything about it. We searched the house many times but never found the diamond he spoke of.”

  There was a momentous silence after Mr. Horani came to a stop. Then Shaykh Sulaiman said sorrowfully, “What a terrible tale. I have no doubt that the diamond he spoke of was the Moon of Masarrah. Do you think those rebels might have stolen it from him?”

  Mr. Horani looked reflective for a moment. “It did occur to me, but I don’t believe so. My father was still alive and in possession of his senses when I arrived. He wouldn’t have told me that the diamond was hidden in the house if the rebels had stolen it. I firmly believe that it’s still in the hiding place that my father chose for it. Short of tearing the house apart, there’s no nook and cranny that I haven’t searched.”

  “I believe what you say is correct,” the Shaykh conceded. “If the rebels had stolen the diamond, the Moon of Masarrah would have turned up somewhere in the world. Such a unique and valuable stone would not have gone undetected for long. What effrontery those rebels had to kill your father with his own dagger.”

  “We couldn’t stand to look at it again,” Mr. Horani’s face was filled with remembered distaste. “My mother had it wrapped in a bag filled with stones and thrown into the bay.”

  “So much tragedy has accompanied this stone,” the Shaykh lamented. “No wonder there are those who say that it is cursed, like other famous gems.”

  “What other tragedy has there been?” Adam asked.

  “Apparently there had been a string of deaths in India before the stone was brought over to Ghassan. The man who owned it prior to my family, was trampled to death by a horse. My great-grandfather actually bought it from his widow. Then my father took ill and died as a result of its theft. After that, both the fence and his cousin lost their lives too. Now I hear of your father’s murder. It all perpetuates the myth that the stone is cursed.”

  “It does have an unfortunate history,” Mr. Horani agreed. “I can see why it would give rise to such superstition.”

  “Well, it’s time we take our leave,” the Shaykh rose slowly to his feet, assisted by Mustapha. He shook Mr. Horani’s hand warmly and said, “Thank you for telling me your tale, even though it was very painful. If ever you should find the diamond, I will be grateful if you would contact me. I am willing to pay you its present-day value. Mustapha will give you a card with my information.”

  Turning to the teenagers, he smiled and said, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you all. I hope we meet again one day, insha’Allah.”

  Chapter Five:

  Legends of Gemology

  The next morning, the teenagers met in Moss Haven and mulled over what they had heard the day before.

  “I’d never heard all the sad details of the Captain’s murder,” Adam said. “It’s heartbreaking to hear it firsthand from Grandpa.”

  “Well, the Shaykh’s story confirms that the diamond was real and not a figment of the Captain’s imagination,” Zaid said. “It would have been easy to think so, especially when none of his crewmen knew about it.”

  “I never really thought about the rebels stealing the diamond,” Layla said. “What if the Captain lost consciousness right after they stabbed him and they stole it then? He wouldn’t have known that they found it. Perhaps that’s why the diamond has never been found.”

  “You mean we could be searching for something that’s not even here?” Zahra said in dismay.

  Adam said firmly, “Listen, the rebels came that night to seize the Captain, not to steal the diamond. They wouldn’t have known that he had it. Let’s assume that when they came for him, he put up a fight, but they overpowered him and then stabbed him with his dagger. The only way they would have stolen the Moon, is if they searched him and discovered it on his person. But the Captain clearly told Grandpa that he had hidden the diamond in the house. Which means that he must have done so before the rebels came on the scene. They wouldn’t have gone looking to steal something that they knew nothing about.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Zaid agreed. “And as the Shaykh said, the diamond would have turned up somewhere if the rebels had stolen it.”

  “Well, now that we’ve agreed that the diamond must still be in the house, I think it would be helpful if we know what it looks like,” Layla said. “It’s a pity none of us have cell phones with internet to look it up.”

  “I saw a computer in Grandpa’s study,” Zaid said. “Maybe we can ask him to use it.”

  Adam shook his head. “Grandpa’s very territorial about his computer. When we first got here,
I asked him if I could use it. He asked me why. After I told him I wanted to read up on seagulls, he signed on without telling me what the password was and then stood by until I had finished reading the Wikipedia results. If we tell him that we want to look up the Moon of Masarrah, he might guess that we’re looking for it.”

  “If it’s such a famous diamond as the Shaykh says, maybe we can find a photo of it at the library” Zahra said.

  “That’s a good idea,” Layla said. “We can ask Grandpa to take us to the nearest one after Jumu’ah tomorrow, insha’Allah. He’ll probably think that we want to take a look at the books.”

  The next day, after an early lunch, they all piled into the gray Toyota Land Cruiser in the courtyard and set off for the Jumu’ah prayer. The vehicle was an eight-seater, so there was enough room for all of them to ride comfortably to the mosque. After leaving the local roads, Mr. Horani headed onto the corniche. The curving coastal road was packed with smoothly flowing traffic heading towards the heart of the city. As they exited off the corniche, remote villas that nestled close to the bay, gave way to numerous apartment buildings and stately mansions with carved doors and arabesque windows. Rows of date palms lined the avenues, which teemed with traffic and pedestrians. The city, which earned its livelihood mainly from fishing, shipping and pearling, was rife with offices, marketplaces and schools vying for square footage.

  The Bayan Bay mosque was a beautiful peach-colored edifice with two slender minarets, and a great central dome surrounded by four smaller ones. Around it was thick groves of date palms, almond and fig trees. People came from all direction, walking sedately through the wide-open gates and calling out greetings to each other. There was a slight stir as a sleek white limousine pulled up to the curb. From it emerged a teenage boy and two hawk-nosed men wearing dark suits and checkered head coverings.

  “Who are they?” Adam looked at them with interest. “Royalty?”

  “No, just the Ambreens,” Mr. Horani said brusquely. “That is Faruq Ambreen in front, the boy is his grandson and the other man is his cousin Talal.”

  “They certainly know how to make an entrance,” Layla remarked.

  As the Ambreens came through the gates, Faruq Ambreen glanced their way. A dark look immediately came over his face and he stared at them fiercely for a few moments before turning away. Zaid was taken aback by the man’s animosity. Perhaps he does not like strangers, he thought.

  “Come, let us go,” Mr. Horani ushered them forward, a tight-lipped look on his face as he stared at Faruq Ambreen’s retreating back.

  They followed the crowd towards the prayer area, Aunt Hafza and the girls veering right towards the women’s wing while Mr. Horani and the boys headed left to the men’s wing. Like Crescent City, the city of Bayan Bay boasted a diverse group of expatriates from different countries. Men greeted Mr. Horani on all sides. He seemed to be well-known and well-liked.

  Zaid watched as a tall, smiling African man came up to them. He and Mr. Horani exchanged greetings and embraced with open affection.

  “This is Musa,” Mr. Horani introduced the newcomer.

  He then introduced the boys to Musa, who showed perfect white teeth as he smiled. “You have our warmest welcome. I hope you enjoy your vacation here.”

  “How was your trip back home, Musa?” Mr. Horani asked.

  Musa’s smile fell. “Not as good as I had hoped, Yusuf. Somalia still has a lot of problems. Allah knows when true peace will ever come.”

  “There is much to distress us in the world today,” Mr. Horani said gravely. “But we must do the best we can and put our trust in Allah. We know that ultimately, good will prevail over evil.”

  “True, true,” Musa nodded sagely. “As we have learnt from the Qur’an, for those who do good, the reward is only good. For those who do evil, they do so at the peril of their own souls. Why don’t you bring everyone around to my market after Jumu’ah? I have some fine mangos that came in yesterday.”

  “I have to take Hafza to see Dr. Qazi,” Mr. Horani said regretfully. “But the children can certainly come.” Turning to the youths, he said, “The library is not far from Musa’s Market. You can walk over when you’re done. Musa will give you the directions. I will pick you up from there.”

  “Okay,” Adam nodded in agreement.

  The Jumu’ah prayer was delivered by an Imam in a flowing black and gold robe and a perfectly fitted white turban. His sermon expounded on the favors that Allah had bestowed upon all of mankind. He cited many verses from the Qur’an, especially Surah Rahman, which Zaid had memorized. Which of the favors of your Lord shall ye deny? Zaid repeated to himself. Not a single one, he thought.

  After the prayer ended, Mr. Horani duly dropped them off at Musa’s Market, which turned out to be just a couple of blocks away from the mosque. The market was a thriving little place packed with an after-Jumu’ah crowd. There were fresh fruits and vegetables, rows of canned goods, and baskets of sweets and nuts. Exotic scents from a variety of oils and incenses permeated the air around them.

  After enjoying the delicious mangos offered by Musa’s smiling wife, Jameelah, and thanking them for their hospitality, Adam asked for directions to the library and they set off. Both he and Layla kept a firm hold on Hassan and Hakeem as they merged into the crowd of people walking down the street.

  The Bayan Bay Library was a sprawling, one-story structure painted a cheerful yellow. It too, was filled with an after-Jumu’ah crowd.

  “We’ll have to ask the librarian for help,” Zaid said. “We won’t be able to use the computers if we’re not members and it will take a long time to find the right book.”

  “Why don’t you and Adam go?” Layla suggested. “Zahra and I will browse around with the twins. Call us when you find something.”

  The librarian wore glasses and a stressed look on her face as Adam and Zaid joined the queue in front of her desk. When their turn came, Adam made his request for a book on famous gems. To their consternation, the librarian looked up from her computer and subjected them to an intent appraisal as she remarked, “Interested in gems, are you? Come to think of it, I haven’t seen the two of you here before. Have you just moved into the area? You’ll need to apply for library cards. What? You’re on vacation? Couldn’t have picked a better spot in the world. Where are you staying? Bayan House, did you say?” The librarian, who had barely let them get a word in edgewise, removed her glasses to stare at the two youths.

  “Subhanallah,” she exclaimed. “You must be Mr. Horani’s grandsons.”

  “I’m Mr. Horani’s grandson, Adam,” Adam said politely. “This is my friend, Zaid. My sister and twin brothers are around somewhere.”

  The librarian nodded her head. “Yes, yes. Your grandfather said there were four of you. How’s your father? Ah, you didn’t think I knew your father, eh? Went to school together, we did. What a shame he never came back to visit. I guess he’s too busy in America. Tell him Rawan sends her salaams. Well, well. Who’d have thought?” The librarian said wonderingly as she replaced her glasses and bent over her computer.

  “Gems, gems…,” she muttered as she typed rapidly. “How come you boys are interested in gems?”

  “Er…summer project we’re working on,” Adam mumbled.

  “Ah,” the librarian exclaimed, and Zaid was not sure if it was in response to Adam’s answer or what her search had brought up on the computer screen.

  “Here we go,” she stabbed at the keyboard. “Legends of Gemology, fourth edition by Moallem and Peterson, published 2006 in Great Britain. Check the reference section, in aisle twenty-one.”

  The boys thanked the librarian and as they left the queue, one of the youths standing in line, remarked scornfully to his companion, “Who does school projects when they’re on vacation? Those Americans are such idiots.” The other boy snickered and both Zaid and Adam glared at them with distaste. Zaid thought the rude boy seemed vaguely
familiar. Of course! He was the youth who had come to the mosque in the white limousine. He’s obviously wealthy and spoiled, Zaid thought scornfully.

  “That librarian sure is talkative,” Adam muttered as they made for aisle twenty-one. “Now everyone knows our business.”

  “That’s how it is here,” Zaid grinned. “Well, let’s get the book and find the girls.”

  A quick search soon had them pulling out a huge tome entitled Legends of Gemology in large gold lettering.

  They found the girls reading a picture book to the twins at one of the tables in a secluded alcove. In a stroke of good fortune, there was an empty table right next to them. Adam plonked the book down on it and the girls came over, leaving the twins immersed in the picture book.

  Adam flipped to the Table of Contents. “The Agra,” he read, “the Dresden Diamond, the Cullinan I-Star of Africa, the Hope Diamond, the Kohinoor…there’s so many of them here.”

  “The Moon of Masarrah,” Layla whispered excitedly as her eyes moved down the page. “Here it is. Page one hundred and one.”

  After Adam had flipped to the page, they all stared at the black and white photograph juxtaposed next to a colored one that depicted a magnificent pear-shaped stone of a golden-yellow color, with red overtones. A small caption underneath the black and white photograph read, Early Photograph of the Moon of Masarrah while the caption underneath the colored one proclaimed, Digitally Enhanced Photograph of the Moon of Masarrah.