by Asen Djinah
‘She looks so pretty. Even more beautiful than I dreamt,’ Hayder thought.
Abdul-Basir, with his poor eyesight, took longer to realise that it was Amel and not Nabila serving them. He was utterly shocked at his daughter’s action when he realised that she was not wearing her veil.
‘I have not called for her. What is she doing here without her veil?’ the poor father thought, shaking his head.
He then came to the realisation that Amel had made up her mind without even bothering to consider his guidance. Despite his initial surprise, he felt happy.
‘Amel and this young man appear to be made for each other; from his own admission, he is already in love with her,’ he thought as he broke into a smile.
Hayder’s head was reeling. His mind was completely blank and he did not know what to say. He continued to look at Amel with his smile frozen on his face, as she served her father. As she walked back towards the partition, he followed her with his eyes. Just before disappearing behind the screen, Amel turned and gave him one last smile and a slight nod of the head. Hayder’s heart soared even though he was utterly disappointed that Amel had left the room. Both men remained quiet for a while. Finally, Abdul-Basir decided to go straight to the subject.
‘It looks like my impulsive daughter has already made up her mind. What are you going to offer for her hand?’ he asked with a twinkle in his cloudy eyes.
Abdul-Basir had already given much thought to the subject.
‘Anything less than five camels will be unacceptable and an insult to my daughter,’ he had long concluded.
Behind the partition, Amel put her two palms facing up in front of her face, looked up and prayed. The number of camels Hayder would offer for her hand would be a reflection of his love.
‘Sayyidi, for the mahr – dower of your daughter, I would be honoured to offer twenty camels and an equal number of goats. I hope that this will be enough,’ Hayder said on an impulse.
He knew very well that this was much more than what would be expected but wanted to show Amel how much he loved her. Abdul-Basir’s heart swelled. He really liked this young man and would be proud to have him as the son he never had. Behind the partition, Amel bowed and touched her forehead on the rug.
‘Thank you God Almighty for sending Hayder in my path.’
The Story of Jaffar
Chapter 1
Grabbing a pair of scissors, Devorah bent forward until her head was at the same level as her knees. Her long loose hair fell forward, almost touching the floor. She reached behind her neck and grabbed a strand of hair and carefully cut it as close as possible to her scalp.
‘It won’t be noticeable being at the back,’ she thought to herself, ‘Anyway, I cover my head whenever I leave my quarters.’
She stood up and looked satisfyingly at the strand of hair in her hand. She carefully tied the end tightly with a piece of thread before putting it in the travelling bag she had just packed for her husband.
‘Jaffar will have a nice surprise when he sees this in his bag,’ she thought, pleased with herself.
A few days earlier, on learning that her husband was going away on a trip, Devorah had become agitated. She could not remember having spent a single night away from her husband. She still remembered the day when Jaffar, as a twelve-year-old, came to live with her parents. And ever since that day the two of them had never been apart.
‘I am sorry my love, I have to go away for a couple of weeks,’ Jaffar told her one evening, out of the blue.
Devorah was so stunned by the unexpected announcement that she did not utter a single word.
‘I cannot send anyone else. It is something that only I can do. I have to meet with the Samanid prime minister to arrange a truce,’ Jaffar explained apologetically, seeing the shocked look on his wife’s face.
Devorah was fully aware that her husband’s important position demanded absolute commitment. So she had kept her concerns to herself, not wanting to burden him with her worries.
‘If Jaffar feels that he has to go in person, then he must,’ she later thought.
Yet deep inside, she felt nervous with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Jaffar had always been by her side and after her parents had passed away, he was the only family she had left. During the two weeks that he would be away, Devorah would be by herself at the palace. The thought brought back memories of the time when she first came to live there, when Jaffar was first appointed as grand vizier to the new caliph.
Never before in the history of the empire, had a Jew ever lived at the palace. Upon his appointment, Jaffar had been informed that he would be given his own living quarters in the palace to be close and accessible to Caliph Omar. When he told Devorah about it, she was very apprehensive.
‘How will the wives of the caliph, the guards and the servants act towards me?’ she said, fearing that she would not fit in.
Being in the innermost circle of power, she was fully aware that she would have to host dinner parties and entertain important guests, including the wives of the eminent families close to the caliph.
‘Will they treat me, the Jewish wife of the grand vizier, with respect?’ she added nervously.
‘They better do, or else I will resign my position,’ Jaffar replied with a laugh.
Devorah could not tell whether Jaffar was being serious or joking. Still she was pleased that he sympathised with her and supported her as he had always done.
Yet her fears were unfounded. After spending the first few days alone, hiding away in her private quarters, Devorah had received the unexpected visit of the caliph’s first wife.
‘How long are you going to remain in your quarters? Come with me. I will show you around,’ Maymuna said.
In the weeks that followed, Maymuna took Devorah under her wing, gradually familiarising her with life in the palace. Being simple and unsophisticated, Devorah used to dress plainly. Maymuna painstakingly advised her about the clothes to wear and even introduced her to her tailor.
‘Due to your figure, you have to choose the right materials for your dresses and abayas,’ Maymuna said.
To conceal her skeletal figure, Devorah learned to pick heavier materials for her dresses. She had plain features, with a prominent nose of which she was very self-conscious. Maymuna showed her how to use makeup.
‘Use Kohl – eyeliner made from black galena to contour your eyes and use Kohl from green malachite to shade your eyelids,’ she suggested to Devorah.
The makeup transformed Devorah’s looks, with her large accentuated eyes opening up her face whilst giving her a feeling of warmth and at the same time lending her an air of innocence. What with her wittiness – which she had developed in her younger years through her interaction with young Jaffar – and her new look, Devorah grew in confidence. Gradually she became accepted within the circle of eminent families and the other wives treated her as an equal. Not once was she made to feel like an outsider, nor any remarks made about her being a Jew.
But now, faced with the prospect of being alone in the palace for two weeks, Devorah’s lack of confidence returned. Although Jaffar would not be leaving until the following week, Deborah decided to pack a travelling bag for him to keep herself occupied and her anxiety at bay. However, staring at the empty bag she was at a loss as to what to include.
‘How much food and what types of provision should I pack? And how many sets of clothes will Jaffar need?’ she asked herself.
Unable to make up her mind, she called her servant for help.
‘Sayyidi, the guide will take care of the provisions. You don’t have to worry about that. You only need to pack some clothes. One set of formal clothes for his official meeting and some plain clothes for travelling should be sufficient. For his toiletries, we will pack a miswak, half a brick of cassia soap and some attar – perfume oil. This will be light enough for his travel,’ the old servant advised.
After they had completed the packing and the servant gone, Devorah suddenly felt guilty. She had be
en so consumed about how she would cope alone at the palace that she had not given a thought to how Jaffar would get by without her at his side.
‘I won’t be there to look after him. How is he going to sleep alone?’ she began to worry.
For the second time in a matter of days, she thought of the twelve-year-old boy she first met all those years ago. It was then that she decided to cut a strand of her hair and include it in the travelling bag.
Grand Vizier Jaffar hurried along the corridor towards the caliph’s office, his face drawn.
‘There is still so much to do,’ he thought as he mentally ticked off tasks he had already completed.
These past few weeks, he had been working late into the night. He had regular meetings with Commander-in-Chief Khalid and his staff regarding the army requirements, as well as with Abdul-Alim the father of Caliph Omar’s third wife, who supplied military equipment to the army.
‘I still have to source 9,000 horses to boost up the cavalry as a matter of urgency,’ he sighed.
Commander Khalid had been adamant about the need to increase his mounted troops. He also wanted to have the horses as early as possible, so that the riders could start practicing defensive manoeuvres. Jaffar had also been working with scholars from the treasury every morning. There was an urgent need to find more money. To increase revenues within the directives of the caliph was an impossible task; he was not allowed to increase taxes nor cut down on the welfare budget.
‘I wish I had made time to meet with Kateb prior to the meeting and discuss with him the best way to convince Omar,’ he thought.
There was so much at stake and the news from Antioch was dire. The Byzantine army had been growing by the day and it was only a matter of months before they launched their offensive. The fate of the empire was at a turning point in history and Jaffar realised that it fell upon him to navigate the difficult road ahead.
‘Omar, being the good man and the great leader that he is, is too much of an idealist to be trusted in securing the defence of the empire. We must steer him to make the right decisions,’ he thought as he walked into Omar’s office.
The meeting had not yet started; Omar did not fully trust Kateb, whom he knew to be very calculating. He always preferred to have Jaffar present by his side whenever Kateb was involved. The old man had a way of making him feel uneasy.
‘Salam Alaikum, excuse my lateness, Your Excellency. I had an early meeting with the officials of the treasury,’ he panted, out of breath.
‘My dear Jaffar, you work too hard. I will have to order you to take some time off. I have not seen you in days. So what news from the treasury? What is the state of our coffers?’ Omar asked.
Jaffar made an inward sigh.
‘Typical Omar,’ the grand vizier thought, ‘though he means well, he simply has no idea of the urgency of the situation and does not realise how much there is to do.’
He needed a few seconds to catch his breath before he could reply and took the opportunity to cast an enquiring look at Kateb. The old man, as usual, was chewing his lips with his gums. He nodded to Jaffar with a hint of a smile to reassure him that he had everything under control. Both men knew what was at stake and needed to get Caliph Omar to agree to their plan.
‘Your Excellency, the state of our funds is not good at all. As agreed, we have rolled back this year’s increase in the welfare fund, but it will not be enough,’ Jaffar began.
‘Since you have precluded us from increasing taxes, I have come up with two solutions. First, we need to target all the wealthy families towards making significant contributions to the war chest. They have more to lose if we are defeated by the Byzantines. They face a simple choice; lose all their wealth to the invaders, not to mention the likely loss of their lives and that of their families, or make a significant contribution towards our army. Secondly, it is time to inform the general public about the imminent threat and at the same time, set up a voluntary contribution at every mosque. I will need your approval for both, Your Excellency,’ Jaffar elaborated further.
‘I too have been thinking that it is time to mobilise the general population,’ Omar agreed.
‘Could you prepare an official statement to be read in all the mosques?’ he added, turning to the chief ulama.
Kateb nodded to acknowledge Omar’s request.
‘As for your other proposal, Jaffar, you have my approval. I will get my personal staff to contact all landowners and merchants. I agree that they have to contribute substantially towards the war chest. I will invite them in groups to the palace and will personally hold audience with them.’
‘And what about the recruitment of soldiers?’ Omar finally asked Jaffar.
The grand vizier looked once more at Kateb, as he was unsure how the old man wanted to proceed with this sensitive matter.
Kateb knew of Caliph Omar’s reservations towards him and would have preferred Jaffar to raise the matter. But given the urgency, he took matters into his own hands. Chewing his lips, the old man turned to Omar and replied on behalf of Jaffar.
‘Your Excellency, we have some very good news. We have been busy collecting the sayings of our Holy Prophet and we have come across one particular saying regarding the rewards for martyrdom. This could help us greatly towards the necessary recruitment,’ Kateb said with exaggerated enthusiasm.
‘I have already expressed my views on this issue. You already know my feelings about the sayings of the Prophet,’ Omar replied curtly.
‘Let him finish, Caliph Omar,’ Jaffar intervened in support of the old man, ‘Ulama Kateb has approached this in a very sensible and methodical way, as he will explain to you.’
With a resigned expression, Omar waved at Kateb to carry on.
‘Your Excellency, we have not just collected the sayings, but in each case we have recorded the chain of transmitters over the years. We have even categorised them into three types; if a particular saying appeared only once, we treated it as ‘weak’; if the saying appears more than once, but from the same source, then we classified it as ‘good’; if it appears more than once from different sources, then we have classified it as ‘authentic’. As you can see, the collation was carried out in a very precise manner and leaves no room for criticism,’ Kateb explained.
‘I have no doubt that you have done a very thorough job,’ the caliph replied, ‘but I shouldn’t need to remind you that it was the Prophet himself who forbade writing down his sayings,’ Omar replied firmly.
All three men remained silent for a while and Kateb was unsure how much further to push Omar on this point. However, it was Omar who broke the silence.
‘Out of curiosity, this particular saying about the rewards for martyrdom...what does it say and in what category is it?’
Kateb seized his opportunity, ‘It came from two different contributors but from the same original source. As such we have classified it as a ‘good’ narrative, Your Excellency.’
‘It goes like this,’ the scholar quickly continued “There are six things for the martyr. He is forgiven with the first flow of blood, he is shown his place in Paradise, he is protected from punishment in the grave, secured from the greatest terror, the crown of dignity is placed upon his head—and its gems are better than the world and what is in it—he is married to seventy-two wives among Al-Huril-'Ayn of Paradise, and he may intercede for seventy of his close relatives”.’
All three men fell silent once again, reflecting on how this powerful saying would undoubtedly motivate countless to join the army.
‘It is time to make Caliph Omar realise the gravity of the situation,’ Jaffar decided.
He had been exasperated by the caliph’s single-minded attitude and thought he had a duty to voice his strong feelings.
‘Your Excellency, I have received the latest intelligence regarding the Byzantine army. Their numbers have swelled to 50,000 already. Although the original intelligence pointed towards a full scale attack once their number reaches 70,000, we should expect them to start march
ing into our territory within the next few months. The major part of our 20,000-strong army is still at the eastern border, facing the Samanid army. If we do not have sufficient men, we are going to lose this war. Hundreds of thousands of lives will be lost, many more will be enslaved and the sand will turn red with blood. The empire and our way of life will be gone forever,’ Jaffar said passionately.
Jaffar paused for a short time to let the information sink in, before concluding in a way he knew Omar would struggle to refute.
‘The fundamental question is simple, Your Excellency. Will you stick to your idealistic view of not using the Prophet’s sayings and go down in history as the one responsible for losing his empire and for the hundreds of thousands of deaths?’
‘Or will you be pragmatic and save those lives, including ours and those of our families? With all due respect, your Excellency, this is the choice you are faced with,’ Jaffar said forcefully.
Caliph Omar was taken aback. Never had soft-spoken Jaffar addressed him in such a harsh and direct manner. Deep down, he realised that what his grand vizier had said was true and for a brief moment he almost gave in. Then he squared his shoulders and faced Jaffar.
‘You have been working very hard and are clearly very tired. You need to rest,’ he said coldly.
Kateb could not help feeling annoyed at the remark made towards his protégé. He cleared his throat and addressed his Caliph in earnest.
‘Your Excellency, what Jaffar was trying to emphasise was the seriousness of the situation. Yes, he has been working very hard, but only out of desperation to save our empire. Like him, I grasp the gravity of the threat we face and like him, I fear that we will lose this mother of all wars,’ Chief Ulama Kateb affirmed.