My only possessions are my coffee-pot, my cloak, and my stick; I use them to protect my honor and the last shred of my persona! protection.
As an ascetic I roam God’s earth, passing my time in prayer and teaching children.
I have presented the other life to the peoples of Egypt and Syria,
My heart being open to them like a blossom.
Have I not advised them to be patient and forbearing?
“Patience, patience!” I told them. “Even though your skin be flayed and the outrages of the tyrant al-Hakim spread abroad,
have I not proclaimed sweetness in word and deed?!
I have glorified love, and before the people
I have been extolling the exchange of flower petals and concealing rocks.
…
Thus I have occulted the life of power
And fraternized the exultations of seasons and dew.
I have welcomed glad tidings and expressed my joy;
I have climbed rocks,
I have pledged allegiance to the sea,
I have told people: You beloved who remain,
There is nothing so sweet as to intensify my great longing for you all.
…
I have said what I have said; I have made claims.
Time has passed, and another time has come
Bringing with it a cursed era of one who rules by tyranny, with chains and wires on feet and neck,
introducing things inconceivable to eye and ear: tiny coffins, destruction, women in prison, men whose souls gush out on sword blades,
terrified faces, wordless inquisitions,
the River Nile overflowing with the blood of victims and the heads of the innocent.
…
By the light of what the eye has witnessed:
The seed of all peace is but a false promise;
The windmill of waiting no longer draws any wind,
resolve is flagging, and suffering is all that remains.
By the light of what the eye has witnessed, we must confess:
Faced with such misery, in the most forceful sense of—that word.
The schemes of the hermit are mere folly and deceit.
We must confess:
All my words about strategy in the face of such miseries are crippled,
My ideas about abstinence in the face of power have failed,
And my head has become utterly useless.
My eye still bears the dusty tears of the eternal
As I contemplate the foaming blood that bursts from the history of inquisitions and wounds without number.
When Abu Rakwa had finished, he fell to the ground exhausted. His audience was thunderstruck. It felt as if they had just heard something they had been anticipating for a long time; or as if a set of pearls had long been hidden away within their innermost feelings, in the recesses of their memories and very beings; all that was needed was for someone to open them up and array them neatly in the realm of their current consciousness. As they sat there feeling such sensations, a young man named Shihab al-Din ibn Mundhir, fully armed and renowned among his tribe for his courage and eloquence, stood up and said, “Peerless counselor, our life here is not as we would like it to be! Seasons of lack and burning hot days have brought us low. We have gone into exile, with rocks for our beds; in years of drought we have wandered aimlessly. We have headed for streams and valleys, saying, ‘Maybe there is salvation in water.’ Down poured the water and destroyed our crops. Some folk said, ‘Maybe there is salvation in sun and sand.’ yet we became parched and exhausted. We fell into despair. At the very edge of disaster we found an escape in raids on other tribes. Some battles we won, others we lost. Yes indeed, O peerless counselor, our life is not as we would wish it! With every death, every famine, we are enveloped in silence. If we so much as raise our heads, the army of al-Hakim takes us prisoner and burns everything. As you can see, only despair remains, just like an axe digging ditches and hollows throughout our terrain.
“We beseech you by God, you who are descended from nobility and like us realize full well the hard yoke of oppression and tyranny, do not forsake us when the sun goes down today or in future days, do not forsake us when you have come to purge our minds and eradicate all memory of our mourning. Do not forsake us now that you have shown us the way to transform our despair and trauma into a great boon.”
Many voices were raised to echo Shihab al-Din’s thoughts, as one word or another was repeated. The import of them all was the expressed desire that Abu Rakwa stay with the tribe and discuss its present and future situation with the chiefs. At this point the shaykh of the Banu Qurra stood up, silenced the crowd, and addressed them all in a forthright tone, “By God, men of our tribe, if you want Abu Rakwa to stay with us and adjudicate our dispute with the Zanata tribes, then I’m with you But if you expect him to bring you all victory against your closest enemies, then let him be! Leave him out of your obsessions and strategies and let him go on his way.”
Expressions of disappointment and opposition greeted this speech; some men even looked angry. As soon as Abu Rakwa noticed their reaction, he quickly interceded. “The revered shaykh is absolutely right. By Him who created the heavens and changes circumstances, I have no intention of remaining among you if it is only some sinister purpose that draws your hearts toward me. I will not join you in any project to bring you victory over your imagined foes, those fellow inhabitants of these desert wastes who share with you a life full of hardships. I am firmly convinced that you and they are partners in misery and deprivation; the only reason why you fight each other is because you are so alike, each one of you trying to erase his own weakness by erasing that of people who find themselves in the very same plight or worse. You attack each other, totally forgetting the one who is the cause of all the misery and making much of his tyrannical power. I want you all to realize that there flows within the veins of your tribe, of your enemies—the Zanata tribe, and of others as well, a single kind of blood. There is no question of similarity or difference; that blood is the blood of piety and faith. Your only enemy is the person who has burned you and sucked you all dry, then tossed you into the desert wastes where food and drink are so scarce.”
What was foremost in their minds was the memory of the accursed fire that al-Hakim the Fatimid had unleashed against them all. With that thought burning inside, none of them had any trouble at all appreciating what Abu Rakwa was referring to. Their expressions showed clearly enough that they both understood and accepted what he was saying. Abu Rakwa seized the opportunity to add, “Noble Arabs! Are you happy to see al-Hakim dispatching his devotees into Egypt and Syria to disseminate slanderous and demeaning images of you to people far and wide? They claim that you are all tyrants and rapists, the very dregs of the Arabs, people who earn a living by raiding caravans on the pilgrimage route to Mecca; that you shed the blood of women and children; and that no sooner do you settle anywhere than you destroy everything, greenery and shrubs, and start spreading apostasy and destruction. They keep repeating these calumnies and worse. How much longer are you going to allow yourselves to be despised like this and to go on living in this terrible environment with such a reputation? How much longer are you going to waste your time fighting stupid and unjust wars against people who are just as weak as you are? Do you really want to let this desert keep on piling its life of poverty and suffering on top of your heads? By Him who has the power and the authority, I shall return to my own haunts if you do not change your ways and seek to achieve in this world the justice, glory, and divine unity that God has promised.”
Abu Rakwa’s words struck at the very souls of his listeners; his import hit its target cold and clear. Words of admiration and blessing filled the air. In an atmosphere charged with awe and outbursts of hope and promise, the shaykh of the Banu Qurra quickly gave his support to what Abu Rakwa had said, anxious as he was to make him feel part of the community, saying, “Tribesmen, what our distinguished guest has just told us is absolutely true! It is
a sign of sheer cowardice and malice for weak people to keep attacking others who are just as weak as they are; any victory gained by one weak tribe over another is vain stupidity. From today there will be no more wars against our indigent peer tribes; instead we’ll concentrate our attention on what really matters. Most important of all is for us to demonstrate to mankind that we are Arabs with pride and dignity. It is no part of our nature to commit obscenities, be they overt or covert, nor to condone illegalities such as highway robbery on pilgrims to God’s house or shedding the blood of minors and innocents. No! Our most important task now is to join with our peers in cutting off all types of tyranny and injustice and to carry the fight to the core of Fatimid rule. Then we will pull out evil by its roots, and, in so doing, earn the bounty of this world and the reward of the next. Praise be to God who has sent the sage guide and imam. Abu Rakwa, to us at this particular moment.”
Barely had Shaykh Abu al-Mahasin finished speaking before the young man, Shihab al-Din ibn Mundhir stood up again and spoke, “Abu Rakwa, for us it will be the greatest of good fortune to support you and march behind you. Today you are our only guide, while we are your only source of power. However, before we make a pact with you and give you our pledges as imam, answer us this question in God’s name. Don’t you think you are rushing things and moving ahead too quickly? For the peace you advocate, you are relying on our hands alone, without consulting the views of those who have been our foes.”
Abu Rakwa responded to this sound objection in a calm, confident voice, “God honor you! Don’t you realize that before I came to stay with you, I spent some time with the Zanata tribe? While I was there, I taught their children and listened to their complaints about the rule of those renegade Fatimids. I could see for myself how much they have suffered under the fierce tyranny of al-Hakim. On more than one occasion their leaders and sages spoke to me about their feelings toward you. I was thus able to confirm their view that the ongoing wars against you were a futile waste of time and effort, something they only did with the utmost reluctance and with hearts full of sorrow and bitterness. So, may God support you with His light, you should all know for sure that, if you were to opt for peace at a mere stroll, they would join you at the run; if you asked for a limited truce, they would seek a permanent one. So don’t be so certain that your very determination is fruitless, nor so supercilious that your gain comes too easily. You Arabs of the Banu Qurra, if you really want an irrevocable peace with the Zanata tribe and others who share with you an adherence to the true religion of Islam, then as of tomorrow I am prepared to serve as a messenger to lay the groundwork for a truce and to work out specific terms and objectives. If on the other hand you are scared of possible outcomes, then you will have to let me sally forth deep into the desert where I can let the sands pile high above me.”
The shaykh of the tribe and Shihab al-Din exchanged glances of agreement and support. They both went over to Abu Rakwa and embraced him warmly. Voices of acceptance, support, and welcome were raised, amplified by the ululations of womenfolk and yells from children. All this constituted a unanimous call for an irrevocable truce between the tribes and a preparation for acknowledging Abu Rakwa as imam. All this coincided with the muezzin’s call for noontime prayers. Everyone hurried to line up in rows behind their illustrious guest. They invited him to lead the prayer, and after some insistence on their part, they got their wish. The prayer that they all performed was marked by an aura of devotion and humility that they had never experienced before. They had hardly finished, greeted one another, and embraced before a group of them made preparations to slaughter a female camel in honor of Abu Rakwa and as a way of hallowing his felicitous advent. However, Abu Rakwa himself stopped them. He told them they should hold off doing that till the day when a real truce was signed between themselves and the neighboring tribes. Once he had convinced them, he made do with a piece of bread, a handful of dates, and a glass of fresh milk (all of which constituted his regular daily meal). When he had finished, he praised God and excused himself. He went to his tent and stayed there for a few hours, praying and performing extra devotions, reading the Qur’an, and writing out accounts of the Prophet’s life for meditation.
Toward day’s end the sunset was creating amazing light patterns that attracted Abu Rakwa’s attention. He sat there watching them through the tent flap and made use of them to forge one insight after another till night fell over the desert. Everyone, young and old, felt a special sense of involvement, an absorbing kind of release. This night seemed to them to be different from others, yet more serene than the doves of Mecca, and steeped in the sweet aroma of paradise itself. The heavens were studded with pearly stars; how close they looked and how sympathetic to human beings! The radiant full moon lavished on people’s hearts the fondest of hopes and premonitions! The very desert winds seemed to have agreed upon a truce and enveloped the assembly in a breeze that was soft, gentle and joyous. The tribesmen all gathered around the tent of their imam, forming circle upon circle. There were circles for children who frolicked and played games, each one of them more lively than a moon-struck gazelle. There were also circles for womenfolk who kept laughing and chanting their favorite songs. The men, middle- and old-aged, took turns in filling the air with sound, sometimes religious chants and at others songs of chivalry and defiance accompanied by dancing.
Everyone took part in the celebration for as long as their enthusiasm and energy allowed, and things continued well into the night. Activities only began to flag somewhat when the men noticed that Abu Rakwa and his horse were nowhere to be found in the encampment. Soon afterwards Shihab al-Din ibn Mundhir appeared with a document signed by the absent imam. It said the following: “My beloved ones, I did not wish to take formal leave of you since that would have interrupted your fun and celebrations. I am going to see my Lord to ask His help and counsel. I will be away no longer than my longing to see you again can tolerate and than my desire to see peace between you and your enemies demands. To God alone belongs success, and He is a good trustee.” As soon as this note had been read, the celebrations came to an end, and everyone returned to their own shelter to sleep or wait. A total quiet fell over the encampment, only broken by the barking of dogs and the pacing of guards.
Next morning people woke up to a sense of lack. Several days passed. The feeling of anxious anticipation they all had was exploited by a clique headed by a certain Hamad al-Madi. They started insulting Abu Rakwa, casting aspersions on both his origins and sayings and turning people against him. Hamad al-Madi himself seized every possible occasion to address the assembly in a way guaranteed to provoke their anger. Saying for example, “My fellow tribal kinsmen, by God I no longer recognize your faces, nor do I detect any prudence in your sages. You seem to have lost all common sense and shrewdness, so much so that you’re fumbling around like someone trying to collect firewood in the dark; you’re all as stupid as someone trying to chew water! You watch a mirage and assume it’s real; you adopt a vagrant and treat him as salvation and everlasting good. What is the matter with you, that you should react in this fashion to this stranger with his phony asceticism, eloquence, and piety? You’ve acknowledged him as your imam when, by all the right of our blood ties, he’s no more useful than a merchant of illusions. The fight he emits is highly dubious; it will be the cause of your downfall. The soft breezes of his aspirations and mission will prove to be gales with the direst of consequences. What power do you possess to be drawn into a light with the enormous Fatimid army? If you undertake such a task, you’ll look even more stupid than butterflies immolating themselves in fire, yet more blind than bats at noon-time. Beware, beware! By the blood that we share, your only escape from these pretensions is by ejecting this snake charmer and reverting to your blessed actions and petty wars.”
Hamad al-Madi’s words were having a more powerful impact on the tribesmen with every day that extended the wait for Abu Rakwa’s return. Were it not for assurances given by Shaykh Abu al-Mahasin and Shihab al-Din, they
would have all revoked their allegiance and broken the ties of obedience. But then one Thursday, just as Hamad al-Madi was haranguing people in the market, a thick cloud loomed on the horizon; before long it turned out to be a group of horsemen led by Abu Rakwa. They had hardly reached the camp and dismounted before it became weal to everyone that the group included the notables of the Zanata, Luwata, and Mizata tribes. The Banu Qurra regarded their arrival as a good sign and greeted their guests fulsomely. Meanwhile Hamad al-Madi and his clique hurried away ignominiously to their tents. The time for noon prayer arrived, and everyone performed it with Abu Rakwa as leader. They then sat down to share the prepared meal before the guests went away to have a rest in anticipation of the peace negotiations the next day, it being the first Friday of Rabi’ al-Awwal A.H. 395.
Next morning the visitors and the shaykhs of the Banu Qurra gathered in the imam’s tent. They performed the morning prayer behind him, then had breakfast and listened to some verses from the Qur’an, Once a spirit of harmony, humility, and exaltation had pervaded the group, Abu Rakwa appeared, sat on two cushions, and started talking in a mellow, affecting tone:
“I praise God who provides my blessings and fills my pot with water.
I have now washed and purified myself,
High, high above my solitude I have burst into flame
Hoping to bring hearts to unity and spread happiness,
To work as a member, with a dream of progress and community …
Like you I have termed this flame that bums us well-being.
All of us have soaked our fever in the river-valleys.
We have all wished—Oh how much we have wished!—to celebrate our loved ones who remain;
We have made musk of our words and illumined dark corners!
We have all wished for tears of joy and homes rejoicing.
But how can this be when the thorn sticks to our flesh,
When wounds are the norm and a life of poverty?
The Theocrat: A Modern Arabic Novel (Modern Arabic Literature) Page 10