At this point the missionary, Hasan ibn Haydarah al-Farghani, “helper of the Guide,” the one known as “al-Akhram” (because he had a snub nose with a split nostril) took over. He always managed to cover the reedy quality in his voice by resorting to a highly rhetorical style:
“There has come to us from the furthest absence at the glimmer of dawn
Our lord al-Hakim, heir to the secret and the line.
Of his goodness he has bared his head, greeted and glorified his God,
And relayed to us the word of the prophets, as musk and ambergris waft from his presence.
He has told us of blessings, of women, and of words.
He has said: “These are the bases of life;
Whoever ignores them will perish.
He who learns them belongs to the lands of fertility and rebirth
And will gain the supreme bliss and happiness in the hereafter.
When he finished and disappeared.
We shuddered. Clouds covered courtyard and mihrab
And water in the fountain was turned into light.
In a trance of hallelujahs we all stood,
Prayed the prayer of love for our Lord the marker of time,
And asked that he return in peace.”
The devotees sat there in humble silence, entranced. They asked for more. Al-Tamimi, known as ‘the emissary of destiny,’ asked, “When our lord returned from his exalted absence, what did his noble mouth have to say?”
“Our lord came back to us safe and reassured,” al-Akhram the missionary replied enthusiastically. “God inspired him to utter some noble words: ‘You can only gaze on the sun as you consign it to its resting place in the sea or behind lofty hills. Thus it is with life.’ And, ‘The wisest of men is one who in his own heart carries a sun that never sets and who thinks about life while it is available in all its maturity and brilliance.’
“Our lord also brought forth some wonderful pieces of wisdom: ‘Wisdom does not involve adapting oneself to repetition and deaths, but rather discovering the face of God in those motivating enticements whose general law is emanation and incandescence.”
Now ‘the emissary of destiny’ asked another question. “Generous missionary,” he said insistently, yet humbly, “will you convey us all into the world of our lord’s conversations with His Lord? All of us desire it to remain a secret, and we will preserve it as such.”
“I have heard our lord with my very own ears,” responded al-Akhram, his eyes gleaming. “I’ve recorded some of his divine confidences, including the following:
‘Within me is the wind’s own girdle and songs of love for the sandy temples,
And fleeting bubbles.
O You who pass by my distress,
I have no secret within.
Nothing keeps me from you, O my God, nothing distances me from You.
This world is an arena that You have paved with watch-towers and informants,
That you have roofed over with a gloomy, barren trellis.
O You crusher of limbs, whither can I flee with my nakedness?
My calamity takes shape in the evening.
Faced with me all ancient deities have collapsed
And turned into dust and ashes.
My calamity takes shape,
So I have turned to You, O guardian of my power.
From You I await a prophet of great repute,
His eyes the color of cement,
One whose mind will combat fates and thunder in the heavens.
And whose hands all around us will kindle the fires of resurrection and eternity.’”
As al-Akhram recited these words, the group sat beside each other totally entranced. It was at this precise moment that the missionary, Muhammad Isma’il al-Druzi, ‘the mainstay of the Guide’ as he was known, intervened. A tall man possessed of an eloquent turn of phrase and powerful mind, he now recounted some of his experiences. “I myself heard our lord—blessings on his name—after returning from his thousand and first quest into the unknown, ‘My devotees, whenever I consider establishing new theologies, I find it extremely difficult to investigate the topic of the Creator, the eternity of the world and its emergence from nothingness. In dealing with these complex issues and their subfields all I come up with are bland ideas and proofs that in their balance cancel each other out. ‘
“Our lord continued, ‘We should study God’s very self, as though it were possible to analyze its essence and investigate its attributes. All theology that does not acknowledge its defeat and unfeasibility approaches the Most High from a false perspective and fails to render Him honor.
‘“The theologian worthy of the name is one who, when he treats God’s attributes or is driven by curiosity to consider their modalities in detail, does not hesitate to guffaw with laughter at his own folly.’
“Our lord—praise be to Him—also said, ‘I’ve observed theologians going so far in their disputes concerning God’s attributes that they started hurling shoes and stones at one another. Whatever may have been the outcome of these squabbles, I hope they will allow me, as a long-standing servant of the faith, to record discreetly to the credit of God the powerful, the living, the knowing, and so on, the great attribute of subtlety.
‘“Indeed how subtle is my Lord! He is the eye that never sleeps. It is inconceivable that he should see me beset by disasters and various categories of crisis. However, from the pinnacles of His lofty wisdom, he feigns a lack of interest in me and turns away so as not to restrict my actions. This is one of the signs of that subtlety whose savor and meaning He alone enjoys.’
“Such is my Lord’s sense of fun that he decided to joke with me: ‘They say that Sufis are children sitting in God’s own lap. Do you see what they do there? What do al-Hallaj and Rabi‘a al-‘Adawiya have to say to each other when they meet? Do they recite poetry and inspirational sayings to each other, or is it rather jokes, followed by caresses and kisses?’
“Before saying farewell—may he be thanked!—my lord gave me this advice: ‘Muhammad,’ he said, ‘neither greet nor say farewell to people without telling them to do well by the light.’
“I asked my Lord for the rationale behind his advice. He said, ‘If mankind did not set up imaginary pyramids around the light, to the extent that they are beneficial, he would not settle on any opinion or establish definitions of truth and what surrounds it. It is by the light then, in other words through the illusion of discovery, stripping bare, and revelation, everything that points to the infinite, everything that sharpens and confuses the vision, it is by this light that ideas can breathe freely, requesting fruition for their interests and ease and relaxation for their veins.’”
Now Hamza the missionary spoke again, “In that God has given the Commander of the Faithful a noble wisdom, made him heir to the role of imam, consigned to him the role of making known the legal bounds of the religion, of informing those believers who seek refuge under his care and enlightening those respondents who cling to his veins, he therefore proclaims the establishment of an enlightened mission among his saints, Its shadow will extend over his followers and faithful adherents, nourishing their minds with its clear message and sharpening their intellects with its sheer clarity. Its subtleties will train their thoughts, and its learning will rescue them from the perils of doubt. Knowledge of it will lead them to paths of satisfaction and point them toward the spirit of paradise, the sweet breeze of affection, and bliss eternal by the side of the Generous, the Provider.”14
“You marshals, deputies, and elite devotees.” went on Hamza in a homiletic tone, “you flames of the beneficial memory and glowing conscience, the great mission has been entrusted to your shoulders. So now go forth, interpret with mind and passion, and spread the word wherever is most appropriate and however will best convince others. Now depart, and a thousand farewells go with you from our lord and myself!”
When only the senior missionaries and al-Hakim bi-Amr Illah were still left in the secret wing of the Dar al-Hikma, the latt
er broke his stolid silence. His followers went over to him and sat in front of him, listening like children to what he had to say.
“Among my most loyal devotees, Hamza, al-Druzi, al-Akhram. and al-Tamimi, there is no priority or preference as far as I am concerned. Whether some of you choose to deify me or others claim that Adam’s soul is transferred to me by way of ‘Ali’s soul, you will only find me adopting whoever among you comes closest to action and success.
“Those of you who deify me and are granted success I will clothe in splendid robes, and mount in my precession on a saddled horse. I will bless him in secret and offer him welcome. However, if anyone advocates my divinity in vain, unaided by strength or will, then eradicate all traces of his droppings from my court, spare my people his false claims, and rid me of his folly. Leave it to al-Kirmani to refute his preachings and to guarantee him misery and hellfire.”
Al-Hakim continued his thoughts. “My devotees,” he said, “if you wish to advocate my deification, start in the mountains of Syria. That is virgin territory, and people there are quick to commit themselves to causes. But, apart from that region, it will be difficult to convince people of my divinity; instead it may provoke much discord among them!
“My devotees, I have this desire to hover god-like over the details of people’s daily lives and to stay above their petty affairs! But there are so many of them, and they are so corrupt! They have hampered my impetuosity and soiled the clear sky of my disdainful retreat. Today I find them tiresome. I immerse myself in a world where they have transformed the surface into muddy swamps; all its charms are now iron bars.”
Al-Hakim gave a yawn. “My devotees,” he chanted, “plant me and give me roots! Talk about me as the books of the prophets do in the Bible. In calling people to me, urge them to make me unique, to weave all around me the threads of their wanderings in dark realms of absence and return. For all those people who stretch out their necks to me in prayer and glorification, I am indeed one who sees.
“My devotees, call to me those who are barefoot and naked. Chain their hearts to my garments. Anyone who dies in my cause will enter paradise in all its glory, strolling through all its parts and relishing what he loves and desires.”
A prolonged silence now came over al-Hakim. He looked completely exhausted and feverish. Al-Druzi hurried over, used a cloth moistened with rosewater to wipe his forehead, and then returned to his place.
“Any deity,” al-Hakim resumed, “who renounces his absence, disappearance, and total transcendence is no deity, but merely an idol or totem. Anyone who comes and talks to people, gets close to them and involves himself” in their mundane squabbles is no deity either, but simply a wizened old woman. Such a person deserves to be defamed and stoned.
“So, my devotees, do not emphasize my deification to excess while I am still alive, ruling the people, determining their fates in this world and the next, and keeping a watchful eye on their every move. Once I have gone, once I have disappeared, urge people to weave from the ashes of my extinction whatever fancies and delusions appeal to them in the firmaments of absence and divinity.”
Al-Hakim’s fever steadily intensified, and he kept feeling boiling hot and then shivering with cold. He began to lose touch, but in his lucid moments he could still talk: “l’m like a deity with broken limbs, the kind that you can only find in pieces in rocky fields or desert sands. Oh, my devotees, how often I pass by, and so do my own funeral and wedding! How often in the wake of night I will vanish from my subjects, and all so that the sea may remain!
“These then are my words and my teeth, both collapsing inside my mouth. It will be for those who come after me to kindle the fire in my locations and corners and to toss my commands and covenant into the recesses of oblivion, all so that the sea will remain.
“O servants of God! Be like the sea, vast and giving. It is promise and menace, thunder in quest of soul’s repose and happy outset. At every moment ask the sea for opinions, not the dead. …”
Al-Hakim continued to mumble some unintelligible words, but then lay down on the ground shivering with fever, He asked for some paper so he could record his last will and testament. The devotees rushed over to cover him with blankets. They refused his request and decided instead to move him back to the palace and hand him over to his private doctor. That is what they did. Each one of them then left to begin the process of interpreting the sayings and visions of al-Hakim that they had just heard and then of making a selection based on their own instincts and the provision of proofs, all with the goal of gathering souls to the cause.
chapter 3
The Earthquake Caused by Abu Rakwa, Revolutionary in the Name of Allah
bu Rakwa lived in Barqa. His cohorts frequently conducted forays into the lands of Upper Egypt. That upset al-Hakim, who fell into despair and came to regret his past deeds. However, the army and doyens of Egypt all rejoiced at this news. When al-Hakim came to hear about it, he became even more worried and started apologizing for his former behavior. Many people, including al-Husayn ibn Jawhar, the Commander-in-Chief, sent messages inviting Abu Rakwa to invade Egypt. So Abu Rakwa moved from Barqa into Upper Egypt. When al-Hakim heard the news, he became still more panicked, and his state of mind went from bad to worse.
Ibn al-Athir,
The Complete Work on History
The desert region of Barqa was inured to a life of poverty and hardship, with sparse, sandy terrain stretching away to the south. The tribal oases were sparse and widely scattered—Jafra, Awjila, Jaghbub, and others. Palms only produced dates. Grass only grew thanks to the scant off-flow from a watercourse fed by springs and inaccessible subterranean wells (something that only happened on average every other winter). The tribes of the region, among them the Banu Qurra, had learned to endure this hard existence. With considerable fortitude they would withstand the lethal desert sand storms and the unbearable lack of sustenance, not to mention the destructive attacks launched against them by Fatimid armies. The Banu Qurra only managed to survive and parry the blows of fate because of periodically successful raids launched against their tribal neighbors, the Luwata, Mizana, and Zanata; the spoils from these raids enabled them to eke out the leanest of livings. Each member of the tribe was used to enduring a life of hardship. Peace would only come in the form of a blend of risks and precautions. One conflict was barely over before another started; that was the pattern that furnished their only lifestyle and solutions. However many motives and causes may have been involved—attack, revenge, or defense, war was always war, a universal law governing humanity. In all this war was the only victor!
One day in the month of Muharram in A.H. 395 a strange-looking man in Sufi garb appeared at the Banu Qurra oasis. I le was grasping a thick stick and carried a coffeepot on his back that he used to wash himself before praying. He used to pray, go into seclusion, and meditate a great deal. People described him as a man in his thirties, tall and thin, with olive-brown complexion, a flowing beard, and prominent eyebrows. His expression suggested vigor, seriousness, and piety. During the first days of his stay in the tribe’s guesthouse he was much honored and respected, but he only spoke in gestures and signs. When he did compose sentences, it was only to curse all tyrants, beg for mercy on his forebears, and ask for God’s forgiveness. For a long time the tribe remained puzzled by their guest’s identity, origin, and purpose, but then their shaykh, named Abu al-Mahasin, chose a quiet, moonlit night to sit down with his guest and join him in his ruminations and protestations. It took a great deal of patience and much effort, but eventually the shaykh managed to get his guest to talk and give him some information. As morning was almost breaking, he emerged with praises and thanksgiving and spoke to his tribesmen as follows.
“Good news, fellow tribesmen! This man is a gift to us from God. His nickname is Abu Rakwa, but his real name is al-Walid. He is a descendant of Hisham ibn ‘Abd al-Malik ibn ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Nasir, scion of the Umawi family. He was exiled from Spain when the tyrant courtier, al-Mansur ibn Abi ‘Am
ir, placed the young heir-apparent, al-Mu‘ayyad Hisham, under guardianship and married the boy’s mother, Subh. He then set about killing the other members of the ruling dynasty in Cordoba. Many of them were murdered, but others managed to escape. One of them was our honored guest, Abu Rakwa, who at the time was twenty years old. Since then he has spent an entire decade of his life travelling to Egypt, Syria, Yemen, and holy Mecca, seeking knowledge and teaching the young the word of God and His Prophet—peace be upon him! It is indeed good news that he has joined our company after being ejected from Kinana territory by their governor.”
No sooner had the shaykh finished speaking than Abu Rakwa appeared at his side. Kissing Abu al-Mahasin on the forehead, he proceeded to address the awe-struck tribesmen in a quavering, emotional tone: “Hail to you, proud Arabs of the Banu Qurra! What your revered shaykh has divulged to you about me is the truth. Furthermore, since you are all keen to know every detail about me, I will not conceal from you the secret particulars of my situation. Before I depart at sunset today, you shall know everything …”
With that Abu Rakwa paused for a moment, as though to recoup his energy. Abu al-Mahasin and all the tribesmen present sat down. Then Abu Rakwa started an eloquent address in a gentle, lilting voice:
Tyranny and treason expelled me from Spain.
I have become an ascetic, O people! Today I have no wives to impregnate.
The Theocrat: A Modern Arabic Novel (Modern Arabic Literature) Page 9