by Raḍwá ʻĀshūr
"If you want, I'll move them somewhere else, Saad, but I beg you not to ask me to give it up. I need to do this and I need the books you're making such a fuss about. I must have them."
Saad sensed the tears swelling in her eyes and the determination lurking behind them. He knew then that he could never stand in her way. It wasn't only that he couldn't break her determination, but that he really didn't want to.
13
As Umm Jaafar made her way through the twilight years of her life, she drew closer to Naeem. She actually counted the days that separated his visits. She had known him since he was a boy and followed him as he grew up, often guiding and sometimes scolding him in the process. But the closeness that had developed between them during the past few years had grown into a deeper intimacy, and she gave him her full attention whenever he spoke to her. His stories carried a certain warmth and colors that shattered the forlornness of leafless trees, cloudy skies, and the occasional chill of the winter of life that settles into the bones. Their talks began ever since the day he told her that King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella were cursed in their offspring.
"How so?"
Naeem was working in the service of a learned Castilian priest. He helped with household chores and manged his library by collating and binding manuscripts. What he didn't hear directly from the priest he learned from the priest's conversations with visitors, and that's how he came to learn what he told Umm Jaafar.
"I heard from Father Miguel that before they died the king and queen lost their oldest child, Prince Don Juan. Then his younger sister, Princess Isabella, followed. She had been married to a Portuguese prince who died himself only several months after the wedding."
"Then God really did punish them. For what good is winning wars and expanding one's kingdom only to suffer the loss of one's own flesh and blood?"
The story Naeem related to Umm Jaafar gladdened her soul not out of vengeance against the king and queen, who forced all the people of Granada to taste the bitterness of defeat, but because she finally found the divine justice that had eluded her and filled her with a doubt that at times briefly appeared to her in the voice of Abu Jaafar after the burning of the books. But then she would ask God to forgive her. God in His exaltation was wise and just, and so He punished the king and queen in their own lifetimes for the sins they had committed. A defeat in war was not harsher than the loss of a child. Truth had shown its face, and in that she found some inner tranquility. And so whenever Naeem came to visit her, she wanted to hear more of his stories.
"They were cursed, Umm Jaafar, and God did not lighten their punishment, nor did He wait until the Day of Judgment. He handed down their sentence in this world, and now that they have departed, He will inflict eternal punishment upon them."
Whenever Naeem visited Umm Jaafar, she would bring him what food she had and sit beside him, fixing her eyes on him and pricking up her ears to listen to his stories. "Listen, Umm Jaafar, to this latest news that not a soul in Albaicin knows about. Juana, the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, is stark raving mad!"
"There is no god but God!"
"I heard that she married a prince from another land known as Philip the Handsome."
"Mercy me! And so then what happened?"
"His name is Philip the Handsome because he's handsome, and any woman who lays eyes on him is immediately smitten with love for him."
"And so?"
"And so, my lady, that doesn't please Princess Juana, and jealousy devours her soul."
"I don't blame her!"
"When she expresses these feelings of jealousy to Philip the Handsome, he strikes her violently, but she still loves him. She's caught between her love for him on the one hand and her jealousy and his abuse on the other, and as a result she loses her mind. After that, Philip the Handsome dies."
"There is no power or strength save in God!"
"He dies, and so what do you think Juana does?"
"Naturally, she mourns for him even though he may have cheated on her, because she loves him."
"That's not the point."
"What is the point?"
"Patience! I'll tell you all the details. It seems that Queen Isabella's mother was also demented, and she passed down her insanity to her granddaughter."
"Praise the Lord! Have we reached the point where we're all being ruled by a family of lunatics?"
"I heard all this from the priests while I was serving them dinner. They talked on as though I wasn't there or as if I were a piece of furniture standing behind them. Anyway, Philip the Handsome died in the prime of life, and Juana went totally mad. She had his body exhumed from the grave and brought to her bedchamber as though he were still alive. And if the affairs of state required her to travel, she would take his corpse along with her. And since she couldn't bear to let any woman come close to him, she had all her handmaidens replaced with butlers to clean her bedroom and serve her on her travels."
"The corpse must have rotted and surely Juana died from the putrid odors."
Naeem laughed before divulging the latest piece of gossip he was sure would shock Umm Jaafar and knock her off her chair like a bolt of lightning.
"In fact, Juana didn't die at all but instead inherited the throne of Castile when her mother died and the throne of Aragon when her father died. And now she's the ruler of both kingdoms."
Just as Naeem expected, Umm Jaafar s mouth dropped and she stared at him incredulously. "Do you mean to tell me that the current queen, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, is that same madwoman?"
"She's the very one. Father Miguel even said it himself, 'Juana La Loca,' which means 'Crazy Juana.'Just think, Umm Jaafar, we're being ruled by a woman who's out of her mind!"
Naeem grinned from ear to ear while Umm Jaafar roiled at the very thought that God punishes the wicked king and queen with the death or madness of their children, and still they rule over us, forcing us to reap the fruits of their insanity. How difficult it is, she thought, for anybody to understand God's judgment, such a profoundly complicated mystery, much less for an old woman like herself.
When Naeem departed and after much thought, Umm Jaafar found an explanation to all these unjust laws in that whoever enacted them was a madman. What harm would be done to a person if someone else refrained from eating pork, or dyed her hands with henna, or conducted his daughter's wedding ceremony inside a church or outside? And what threat would there be to a ruler if some of his subjects purchased books written in the language of the Arabs and not in somebody else's language? And why should it anger him if someone like herself wore an Arab-style dress instead of a Castilian one, or laid a wreath at the tomb of her dearly departed husband?
She didn't understand the wisdom of God in allowing a madwoman to rule over His subjects, but she came to realize that those strange and oppressive laws were the result of a deranged mind. Were it not for Naeem, God bless him! she wouldn't have understood a thing. And were it not for his wonderful anecdotes, she would find herself passing her days and nights alone, talking to no one and no one talking to her. Saleema was up to her ears in jars and vials, and Umm Hasan was always in the kitchen cooking meals for the children. Maryama was constantly picking up after them, and the children were content to be left on their own to play and chatter among themselves. And when they tired from playing, they gathered around their mother who would tell them stories. Whenever Umm Jaafar called them to tell them a story, you could see a hint of mockery glimmer in their eyes because the sounds she made just weren't the same since her teeth had fallen out and the words became garbled in her mouth. When Hasan came home exhausted after a hard day's work, he occupied himself with his children and wife. So Umm Jaafar only had Saad to pour her attentions on, and she looked forward to Naeem s visits, which lifted her spirits as he entertained her with his stories.
She only had to take a quick glance at Naeem before Umm Jaafar knew he was bringing her a juicy bit of news. He would approach her, flashing a broad smile that he adjusted with pinpoint accuracy
and control. But then he would lose control and the smile led to a shimmer in his eyes and the divulgence of his secrets.
"Best of mornings to you, Umm Jaafar," he greeted resoundingly.
"Good morning to you, too. You brought me a strange and wonderful story, right?"
The smile gave way to a hearty laugh. He stretched out his hand to give her a needle and thread. "Could you thread this needle for me?" he asked.
Umm Jaafar was taken aback since it wasn't in Naeem's nature to mock her. She looked at it with an odd and reproving look. "Just try, Umm Jaafar, just give it a try," he begged.
"What's gotten into you, Naeem?" she asked with annoyance. "You know I can't do that."
"But you will thread this needle," he insisted. He placed the needle in her left hand and the thread in the right. Umm Jaafar was at a loss to understand what was going on, but she yielded to Naeem expecting the worst. Naeem pulled out of his pocket a small envelope and opened it gently. He took out something quite odd and unfamiliar. It was two flat circular pieces of glass joined together and framed in a delicate gold wire rim, with a small slender handle attached to one of the pieces of glass.
"What's that?"
Naeem held the handle and lifted the two circles of glass close to Umm Jaafar's face until they reached her eyes. She shut them tight and asked, "What are you doing, Naeem?"
"Don't be afraid, Umm Jaafar. Open your eyes and thread the needle."
Umm Jaafar opened her eyes slowly as she muttered, "In the Name of God, the Most Compassionate and Merciful." Then she uttered the same thing with exuberance when she looked through the pieces of glass and saw clearly the eye of the needle she had been unable to see for some years now. She tried to thread the needle a few times but couldn't do it because her hands were trembling.
"Calm down, Umm Jaafar, and concentrate on threading the needle."
"Have you taken up magic, Naeem?"
Again she tried and when she passed the thread through the eye of the needle she handed it to Naeem as she listened to the hard, fast pounding of her heart. Naeem lifted the glasses from her eyes and spoke joyously. "This instrument, Umm Jaafar, is used by people when their sight grows weak and they can't see small things. It belongs to Father Miguel."
"Does the priest need it to thread a needle?"
"He needs it to read all those books that have fine print," he answered in laughter.
"Where did he buy it?"
"He asked one of the Genoese merchants to buy it for him."
"Then it's sold in Genoa?
"I don't know."
"Is it expensive?"
"I have no idea."
"If it's not too expensive, I'll ask Hasan to buy one for me. There are lots of merchants from Genoa who pass through Granada. Hand it over and let me try again, Naeem." Umm Jaafar stretched out her hand and took hold of the delicate gold handle and raised the glass circles to eye level. She looked through them toward all the corners of the room.
"Strange!"
"What's strange, Umm Jaafar?"
"The things that are far way I can see better without it."
"I think it's to see things close up. I see Father Miguel using it only when he's reading."
Umm Jaafar called out to one of Hasan s daughters to go and bring her aunt Saleema. "Let's see what Saleema will do with it when she reads a book."
Before the little girl reached her aunt's room, she managed to spread the news of the strange instrument to her mother, grandmother, and sisters. They all came running and surrounded Naeem, looking on with intense curiosity and asking questions all at once, while Naeem refused to let any one of them get close to it or touch it.
"Does this thing let blind people see?" asked one of the children.
Umm Hasan shook her head in relief. "Such a wonderful piece of news I must tell our neighbor who's lost her sight. Now she'll be able to see again." She got up to go out and tell her neighbor the news without even looking at Naeem who was trying to explain that the glasses only magnify small things but do not give sight to the blind.
When Saleema entered the room, she inquired about the instrument, then she picked it up and held it to her eyes. She took it off, and when she started to go to her room and get a book Naeem stopped her. "Bring the book here," he said. He took the glasses away from her, and she went and came back with a book with small print. She took back the glasses from Naeem and started to read with them. Those small letters that always exhausted her and made her pull the book away from her as she squinted her eyes now seemed so clear to her, and she could read them with astonishing ease.
"Naeem, where did you get this thing?"
"It belongs to the priest."
"Will you leave it for me just for tonight?"
Naeem jumped up from his seat and grabbed the glasses from Saleema s hands. "That's impossible," he answered. "When he asks me about it, what will I say?"
"Since you've brought them here, it's obvious he's away."
"He's away, but he'll be back tomorrow."
"Leave it with me, and I'll give it back to you tomorrow morning."
Umm Jaafar, Umm Hasan, Maryama, and all the children joined together in trying to convince Naeem to leave the glasses with Saleema, "Just for one night," they repeated. After going back and forth several times, Naeem finally accepted his fate and gave in, handing the glasses to Saleema repeating over and over again to be extra careful, and he showed her how to hold and use them so they wouldn't break.
"Tomorrow morning, I'll be back tomorrow morning to get them."
Naeem returned the following morning to pick up the glasses, but Saleema had already made up her mind. "What you were afraid would happen, happened," she told him. "The glasses broke."
"Broke!" Naeem shouted out this one word and then grew silent. Several moments passed with him not knowing what to say or do. Then he spoke. "How did they break? Let me see them."
"They fell and smashed into pieces. I was afraid the children would step on the glass, so I threw them away."
At first he was suspicious, but then he became certain. "You're a liar, Saleema. You decided to steal the glasses."
"Hold your tongue, Naeem."
He was seething in anger. He shouted at Saleema, and she shouted back. They got into a heated argument that neither Umm Jaafar nor Maryama could pacify. Umm Hasan took offense at Naeem's accusation of theft and took her daughter's side. As she shouted at Naeem, he shouted at her daughter.
Naeem stormed out of the house, repeating over and over again: "I'm going to complain to your husband and your brother, and God willing they'll beat you savagely until you tell us where you put the glasses you stole."
14
In times of trouble, men's hearts soften and seek the solace of others, and the long years in which Saad and Hasan shared the same roof only strengthened their friendship as they spent long hours in conversation, more often than not seeing eye to eye on most matters. Hasan treated Saad with kindness and affection, not only because he was his friend and his sister's husband, but because he had descended upon his grandfather's house as a guest. And he continued to take care of him well beyond the many years when he was no longer a guest and no one could remember that he was living in a household that wasn't his own. Even the problems with Saleema only fortified the strong bonds between the two men, especially since Hasan deep down blamed his sister and felt a kind of gratitude toward Saad for not mistreating or divorcing her, and especially for not taking another wife.
So what happened that day when a whispering conversation between the two friends flared up in dispute and ended in a ferocious exchange of words? Umm Jaafar rushed to them as fast as her advanced years allowed to find out what was the matter only to have Hasan snap at her. "I beg you, Grandmother, go away. This is a conversation for men only. Take Maryama, my mother, and the children into the inner courtyard, and leave us alone!"
Even as far away as the inner courtyard, you could tell that what was going on between the two men was a fight alt
hough the exact words couldn't be detected. Umm Hasan said that an evil eye, the same one cast upon Saleema, had struck again. Umm Jaafar nervously muttered, "May God protect us!"
The children went to sleep, and Umm Jaafar, Umm Hasan, and Maryama sought refuge in their beds although none of them could sleep a wink. They wondered what was going on, what possibly could have provoked such an outburst.
In the wee hours of the morning, Saad came into Umm Jaafar's room and sat down next to her. "I'm going away, Umm Jaafar," he said.
The thought never occurred to her.
"Going away? Where and why?" she asked.
He was hesitant in responding.
"Are you leaving Granada and leaving us alone to fend for ourselves?"
His eyes welled in tears, and he leaned over, took her hand, and kissed it.
"I'm going to the mountains. I have comrades there who need me. I'm not leaving Granada, nor am I abandoning you. You're all the family I have. Everything will be fine, my mother."
He got up and she followed him like his shadow as he went out to bid farewell to Umm Hasan, Maryama and the children, and then to Saleema.
"Saad's going away, Saleema," announced Umm Jaafar to her granddaughter.
"I know."
Saleema seemed upset to her, and she noticed a nervous twitch in her face. But Umm Jaafar mustered enough courage to speak up: "Stay with your wife, Saad. Stay with us even if Hasan has offended you. He was wrong to do so." As she said this, she went up to him and kissed him on the top of his head as a gesture of conciliation.
"Say something, Saleema."
"I already told him."
"Told him what?"