The Journey of Ibn Fattouma

by Naguib Mahfouz

  We returned to the inn to have our lunch. During lunch Fluka said, “Did the sight of the severed heads upset you? It was necessary, inevitable. Our system demands that no one should interfere in what does not concern him and that each individual should concentrate on his own affairs. Thus the engineer should not chatter about medicine, the worker shouldn’t become absorbed in the affairs of the peasant, and internal and external politics are no business of anyone’s. He who rebels against this is punished in the way you saw.”

  I realized that personal freedom had execution for its punishment in this land, and this caused me great sadness. I felt exasperated at Fluka for his fanatical belief in what he said.

  We spent our evening at a large circus which was crammed with people, and we watched all sorts of games, singing, and dancing, which were pleasantly amusing. Then we dined off roast meat and fruits. Fluka drank and invited me to join him, and when I did not do so he was forced to moderate his drinking, which put him in a bad temper. We left the circus at midnight and walked slowly under the moonlight in streets filled with reeling drunkards.

  “How pleasantly you amuse yourself!” I said, wishing to make conversation.

  “And how pleasant is your seriousness!” he said, smiling for the first time, either because of the festival or because of the wine he had drunk.

  He saw me smile and was not happy at my smile. “Do you find life in your first homeland or your second homeland better than life in Aman?”

  “Let’s not talk about my first homeland, for its people have betrayed their religion,” I said bitterly.

  “If the system does not provide the means by which its application is guaranteed, then it won’t survive,” he said roughly.

  “We haven’t yet lost hope.”

  “Then what’s the point of going to the land of Gebel?”

  “Knowledge is light,” I said listlessly.

  “It is nothing more than a journey to nothingness,” he sneered.

  The days followed one another tediously, and the people at the inn began talking about relations between Halba and Aman in tones of pessimism and apprehension. I asked Fluka what lay behind this. “In their war with Haira they pretended to recognize our right to the wells, and when they were victorious they withdrew their recognition with utterly despicable baseness. Today it is said that they are mobilizing an army from the two countries which they have occupied, Mashriq and Haira, and this means war.”

  I was overwhelmed by disquiet. “And will war really break out?”

  “We are totally prepared,” he answered coldly.

  My thoughts hovered round Samia and the children. I remembered the tragedy of Arousa and her children. I anxiously awaited the expiry of ten days. One day and then another passed without incident. My heart calmed down and I began to prepare for the journey. During that time it occurred to me to ask Fluka about the Buddhist traveler and his wife, Arousa, who had visited Aman a year ago, and he affirmed that he would be able to provide me with information about them when we went to the travelers’ center at the end of my stay. The man kept his promise and himself consulted the files. “The couple stayed ten days in the land of Aman, then went off in a caravan bound for the land of Ghuroub. However, the husband died on the way and was buried in the desert. As for the wife, she continued her journey to the land of Ghuroub.”

  The news shook me. I wondered where Arousa could be and how she was, and would I find her in the land of Ghuroub or had she gone to the land of Gebel—or returned to Mashriq?

  At dawn I was at the stopping place of the caravan with my luggage. I shook Fluka by the hand. “Thank you for your good companionship and the benefits you conferred on me.”

  He pressed my hand in silence, then whispered in my ear, “War has broken out between Halba and Aman.”

  I was so upset that I could not continue our talk; I did not even ask who had started the war.

  Memories of Samia and the children—and even the child about to be born—dominated me.

  6

  The Land of Ghuroub

  The caravan plunged into the darkness of the dawn, while I looked round at everything with a heart filled with anxiety. Never had it been vouchsafed to me to travel with a heart composed and a soul untroubled; always apprehensions enveloped me. My fevered imagination hovered round Halba, praying that Samia, Mustafa, Hamid, and Hisham be kept safe, wondering in perplexity about the result of that bloody struggle between the two most powerful lands. I raised my eyes to the flowering garden of the sky and muttered, “Be with us, O God of the heavens and the earth.” The earth gave out its Lord’s light and I saw a vast level desert under gentle summer weather; I also saw gazelles leaping about here and there, so that I called it “the desert of gazelles.”

  The journey extended for a month and we were not greatly discomforted, which made us think that it would have a good outcome. Towards the end of one night a voice gave us the good news that we had reached the boundaries of the land of Ghuroub. It was a half-moon and the weather was silvery, but I saw neither a city wall nor a customs agent.

  “This is a land without guards, so enter it in safety and peace,” said the owner of the caravan, laughing.

  “How shall I know the way to the inn of the foreigners?” I asked him.

  “The light of day will indicate to you what you are looking for,” he said, continuing to laugh.

  I stayed full of curiosity till the sun came up. Perhaps it was the most beautiful sun I had known in my life, for it gave off a light that held no troublesome heat, a light that was accompanied by a gentle breeze and a pleasant fragrance. In front of me there stretched out a limitless forest. My gaze did not fall on a single building, a single hut, house, or palace. Nor did I see a soul. It was a new riddle for me to puzzle out—but what should I do with my baggage? I returned to the owner of the caravan and he said, “Leave it where it is and don’t be afraid—go off in peace and return in peace.”

  I chose a spot close by a well, which I took for a landmark. I put down the cases and lodged my money in a belt which I wore round my waist under my robe. I then went off on an exploratory tour. I walked on luxuriant grassy ground that had been planted with date palms and fruit trees, between which were located springs of water and small ponds. At first the land appeared to be devoid of human beings, until I saw the first person, who was sitting squat-legged under a date palm. He was an elderly man with white hair and a long beard; he was silent and was either dozing or in a trance, a recluse with no companion, male or female. I approached him as though I had come across some treasure.

  “Peace be upon you, brother,” I said to him.

  As it did not appear that he had heard me, I repeated my salutation, saying, “I am a traveler and am in need of a word to show me the way.”

  Not a sound came from him and he remained lost in his own realm.

  “Do you not wish to talk to me?” I asked him.

  He showed no reaction. It was as if I had no existence, so I gave up hope of him. Reluctantly, I turned and continued on my way. As I pressed on further I came across other people in the same state, both men and women, and I would again make the effort and would be refused or ignored until it seemed to me that it was a forest full of deaf, dumb, and blind people. I cast a general enraptured look at the beauty all around me and muttered to myself, “It’s a paradise without people.” I took some of the fruit that had fallen to the ground and ate till I was satisfied, then returned to where my baggage was and saw that the traders were filling their sacks with fruit, as much as they wanted. When the owner of the caravan saw me he laughed. “Were you able to engage any of them in conversation?” I shook my head, and he said, “It’s a paradise of people in a trance, but its bounties are spread about in great abundance.”

  “What do you know of them?” I asked him eagerly.

  “There’s an old man in the forest,” he said indifferently, “who is much sought after. Maybe he will provide you with what you are seeking.”

  A tr
aveler’s hope was brought to life anew and I was intoxicated with the joy of victory.

  “How beautiful the summer is here!” I said.

  “All the seasons are like this,” replied the man.

  I rose with the sun, invigorated and optimistic. I heard one of the traders say, “We shall go on coming and going between Aman and Ghuroub till the war ends and the roads are again open to caravans.”

  I made off into the depths of the forest, proceeding for hours at a time without stopping until I heard from afar the sounds of communal singing. I went towards the sound and saw a group of men and women sitting on the ground in the form of a crescent in front of an old man seated under a luxuriant tree. It was as if he were teaching them how to sing and they were repeating the sounds after him with the utmost tenderness. I drew near and crouched behind them. I looked at the man and saw that he was elderly and naked except for a loincloth. A halo of light seemed to encircle his pure face and magnetic eyes. He brought the singing, or the lesson, to a close, and the men and women rose and dispersed quietly. Arousa was not among the women. I had not come across her on the previous day, but the perfume of her was diffused in the atmosphere with the aroma of fruit and green grasses. There was no one in the place except the old man and me. I stood humbly before him and he looked at me with his limpid eyes and I felt that I existed. The sense of estrangement that had been choking me yesterday in the forest had vanished and I now belonged to the land of Ghuroub. The journey had not been undertaken in vain. I raised the palms of my hands to my forehead in greeting and said, “Master, you are my long-awaited goal.”

  “A newcomer?” he asked, scrutinizing my face.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I am a traveler who goes from land to land in search of knowledge.”

  He closed his eyes for a mintue, then opened them. “You left your land for knowledge and yet you have turned aside from the target many times and have wasted valuable time in darkness. Your heart is divided between a woman you have left behind you and a woman you are striving to find.”

  I was truly amazed and looked at him in awe.

  “How is it you have the ability to read what is hidden?”

  “Here they do that—and more,” he said simply.

  “Are you the ruler of this land?”

  “There is no ruler of this land. I am the instructor of those who are perplexed.”

  “Increase me in understanding!” I said earnestly.

  “Everything is pledged for its due time.”

  I pointed to those around me. “Why do people not say a greeting or listen to what one says?”

  “Their life here is conformity with truth and withdrawal from humankind.”

  “They look as if they are in a trance.”

  “Patience in the face of the bitterness of misfortune is the door to the sweetness of intimate discourse.”

  I gave thought to what I had just heard, then I asked, “And what is their goal in all this?”

  “They are all emigrants. They come from all different parts to avoid depraved desires and to prepare themselves for the journey to the land of Gebel.”

  I was moved by mention of the name and said joyfully, “Then I shall find companions in my final journey.”

  A smile showed up in his eyes. “Like them,” he said, “you must prepare yourself.”

  “How much time does it take?”

  “Each one according to his ability. One’s zeal may slacken, and then one will be advised to remain on in Ghuroub.”

  I was disheartened. “And if one insists on going?”

  “There is the fear that he will be treated over there like a dumb animal.”

  “And how do you prepare them for the journey?” I inquired, extremely perplexed.

  “Everything depends on them,” he said clearly. “I train them with singing to prepare the way, but they themselves must extract the powers hidden within themselves.”

  “I have never heard such things before,” I said, puzzled.

  “This is the case with every newcomer.”

  “What does it mean,” I asked humbly, “to extract from within myself hidden powers?”

  “It means that in every person are treasures that have been covered over and which he must search out—especially if he wants to visit the land of Gebel.”

  “And what is the connection between this and the land of Gebel?”

  He was silent for a time, then said, “Over there they rely in their life on these treasures and don’t use senses or limbs.”

  “Won’t you give me an idea about these treasures?” I said urgently.

  “Don’t be in a hurry.”

  “And when will I know that I have been successful?”

  “When you are able to fly without wings,” he said calmly.

  I regarded him closely in stupefaction. Then, affected by his seriousness and sincerity, I said, “Perhaps you are speaking to me in metaphors.”

  “No, it’s the plain truth. The land over there is based on these forces and through them has come near to attaining perfection.”

  “You will find me to be sincere,” I said with determination.

  “Your reward will be to dwell in the land of Gebel.”

  “It will be only a visit, after which I shall return to my country,” I said hastily.

  “Through it you will forget the world and all that’s in it,” he said with conviction.

  “But my motherland is in need of me.”

  “And how did you leave it?” he asked in amazement.

  “I undertook the journey in the hope of returning to it with experience which would provide it with its salvation.”

  “You are a deserter,” the old man said with displeasure. “You made your journey a pretext for fleeing from your duty. No one has emigrated here except after discharging his duty. Some have lost the bloom of youth in prison for the sake of holy war, not by reason of a woman.”

  “I was a lone individual in the face of total tyranny,” I exclaimed in anguish.

  “That’s the excuse of a man weak in spirit.”

  “Let the past be as it may, my determination will not be impeded and my life will not be squandered uselessly.”

  He took refuge in silence. Regarding this silence as assent, I took courage and said, “You will find me a man of determination and sincerity.”

  I stood up, bowing my head humbly. A thought occurred to me, but I hesitated, alarmed at making it known, when he said, “Do you want to know what time has done to Arousa?”

  I was as astonished as when he had seized my past from the shadows. I asked myself: Is this how they make themselves understood in the land of Gebel?

  “She has gone already to the land of Gebel,” he said.

  “Has she been successful in embarking upon the experience?” I asked in surprise.

  “By virtue of the pains she suffered in her life,” he said, smiling.

  When I was about to depart he inquired, “What is the use of dinars hoarded around your waist?” I returned to the caravan’s stopping place and put the dinars in one of my bags.

  “We are leaving at dawn tomorrow,” said the owner of the caravan.

  “I am remaining,” I said casually.

  Immediately after dawn I was the first to make my way to the gathering of my master. I was joined by a group of newcomers and we sat in a crescent, naked except for something to cover our loins.

  “Love work,” said the old man, “and do not pay attention to the fruits and the reward.” He was silent for a while and then continued, “The first step on the ladder is the ability to concentrate fully.” He clapped his hands together and said, “By full concentration man merges into his essence.”

  He began singing while we sang in time with him. The singing raised me to another world. At each musical phrase there gushed forth a source of power from my inner consciousness.

  I returned to my place under a date palm and started to practice. I struggled with
concentration and it struggled with me. I joined in a heated battle with the pictures of my past life. They would assault me with love and fidelity and I would chase them off with the bitterness of distress, and the days would pass filled with torture, resolution, and hope. At the beginning of each lesson, before the singing and the chanting, he would counsel us to love work and to ignore the fruits and the reward.

  “Thus is affection cemented between you and the soul of existence,” he would say. He would also counsel us to concentrate, saying, “It is the opener of doors to hidden treasures.”

  “Over there, in the land of Gebel,” he would say with conviction, “with mind and hidden powers they discover truths, till the land, construct factories, and bring about justice, liberty, and universal purity.”

  I returned to my solitude, imagining the day when I would employ my hidden powers against everything that is crooked and twisted in my homeland so that I might set it anew in an upright manner for an upright people. The days passed and I forgot time and did not know how many days and months had gone by. My cup was filled with confidence, and in its darknesses there glittered flickerings of inspiration.

  One day I awoke before dawn, earlier than my usual time. I went at once to the old man and found him sitting under the light of the stars. I took my seat, saying, “Here I am, Master.”

  “What has brought you?” he asked me.

  “A call that emanated from you,” I said firmly.

  “This is a first step to success,” he said contentedly. “A downpour of rain starts with a few drops.”

  We remained silent as we waited for the arrival of the groups of people until our crescent was complete. The face of the old man in the light of the rising sun was despondent. He began singing as usual and we intoned after him, but we were not intoxicated with joy. Before we left he said to us, “Evil is coming, so meet it with the courage that is worthy of you.” He added not a word to that, ignoring our questioning eyes.