Bensalem Himmich - The Polymath

‘Abd al-Rahman gave Sha‘ban a sympathetic smile. He asked his servant to recheck the baggage, heat some water for the solemn ritual of purification, and then go to the cameleer to check on the departure time next day after the noontime prayers. Once ‘Abd al-Rahman was left alone, he offered thanks to God that Umm al-Banin had not paid him a visit before the breaking of the fast had been announced. If she had done so — heaven forbid, she would assuredly have invalidated his fast and ritual purity. Praise be to the Arranger of Times and Matters!

Note Two: On the morning of the middle day of Ramadan, ‘Abd al-Rahman was shaken awake by a strange dream he had had. In it he saw himself saying farewell to Umm al-Banin who had become his wife. He was on his way to a Middle Eastern city close by where he was about to meet the descendant of Genghiz Khan, Timur Lang. No sooner had al-Hihi come in that he started telling him about the second part of the dream (omitting any mention of the first).

“In this dream I had, Hammu, the strangest thing happened. My mind is still reeling! I saw myself in a Mamluk city sitting with the mighty warrior, Prince Timur, ruler of the Mongols and Tatars. At some points I was discussing things with him, and at others I was negotiating. I can’t remember the sequence or details any longer. By the way, I recall now that my own shaykh, Muhammad ibn Ibrahim al-Abili, that master of rational ideas — God have mercy on him — predicted that I would eventually get to meet this person who, following the example of his forebears, would ravage the lands of Islam with fire and destruction and crush its people in a reign of terror and tyranny. This all happened at the beginning of the seventh Islamic century at the hands of Genghiz Khan, and the situation worsened with his grandson, Hulagu Khan, the destroyer of Baghdad. Now that same Tatar onslaught continues its onward march with another descendant. Timur Lang. All this is happening to us when barely half a century has passed since the Middle East managed to escape from the nightmare of the Crusades and the western regions from their massive defeat at the battle of al-Arak in 591. I can think of no better account of these terrors and disasters than that of Ibn al-Athir, even though he did not live long enough to witness its final destructive phases.

“As I’m telling you about my dream, Hammu, I can recall now that my meeting with Timur was one of those events that manage to tell us a great deal about the Middle East’s unreasonable share of misery and disaster. The meeting, which was interspersed with a meal and truncated conversations, took place in an atmosphere fraught with fear and rumor. The only way I found to counter it was at times to murmur verses from the Qur’an, the chapter on the sea from Abu al-Hasan al-Shadhili, and at others, to recall the Mamluk victory over Hulagu Khan at ‘Ayn Jalut.

“Dear God, disperser of accumulated darkness, granter of dashed hopes, I pray You to lighten the burden of what is to come and, in the measure of Your great kindness, to turn my dream into a source of comfort for me and Muhammad’s people. Amen!”

Like ‘Abd al-Rahman, al-Hihi raised his hands to God as he repeated “Amen.” The two men recited the Fatiha of the Qur’an and then in a powerfully spiritual atmosphere, performed some intercessions.

“Master,” said al-Hihi as soon as they had finished, “I have a request to make.”

“Fine, Hammu, say it with no hesitation.”

“Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to invite you to a meal in my modest home. But I’ve never dared broach the topic for fear of disrupting your work or interfering with your desire for seclusion. Barely a day has gone by during the first half of last month without Umm al-Banin insisting that you spend the Sha‘ban celebration with us. I kept on refusing on the grounds that you were extremely busy and preoccupied.”

“That is the night of innocence. Invite me, and I’ll certainly be there.”

“So then, my every hope is that we’ll celebrate your return from the pilgrimage in my house and at my expense.”

“In your house for sure, but only on condition that the expenses will be paid by those who’ve been blessed by their participation in the pilgrimage.”

“If there’s anyone to share my joy that you’ll be honoring me in this way, then it’s Umm al-Banin. She’ll be shouting for joy and starting preparations for the sweets this very day!”

‘Abd al-Rahman put a purse of money into al-Hihi’s pocket, even though the latter made every effort to stop him. They then talked about the seven previous nights of dictation.

“I am hereby entrusting you, Hammu, with my dictated thoughts. If I return alive from the pilgrimage, I’ll look them over carefully and make a few additions. If I should happen to die while I am there, then publish them as they are, along with this letter of mine by way of assent and verification.”

“You will return to us, Master, as a devout pilgrim, hale and hearty. If you in turn should discover that I’ve passed away, the papers will be where Umm al-Banin keeps her jewelry hidden.”

“God willing, you’ll live longer than you expect, so you can be protector and treasure to your wife.”

There was a knock on the front door. Sha‘ban stood up, greeted the knocker, and announced that the cameleer was at the door. ‘Abd al-Rahman leapt to his feet and went to his room to put on his travel clothes. When he came back and went out of the front door, he found al-Hihi and Sha‘ban squabbling over who should help the cameleer load the camel and tether the baggage. No sooner had the hour arrived to join up with the caravan going to the Sinai port than ‘Abd al-Rahman hugged first al-Hihi and then Sha‘ban, telling the former to check on the house from time to time and the latter to take good care of Umm al-Banin when she went on her walks. As al-Hihi helped ‘Abd al-Rahman mount the camel, he whispered in his master’s ear, reminding him of his promise to pray that Umm al-Banin might have a child, all in order to satisfy her insistent demands.

And with one gesture ‘Abd al-Rahman signaled to the cameleer to set out on foot toward their destination, while with another he bade his two friends farewell.

The pilgrimage: from the port on the west coast of Arabia, to the Sinai peninsula, then to Mecca via Yanbu‘.

The pilgrimage, returning to Egypt from Mecca, passing through Yanbu‘, Qusayr, and Upper Egypt.

The round trip took about six months. As I’ll explain below, I found myself perpetually lost in a sea of distractions and fantasies.

On the way there and back I was traveling between the tomb of Imam al-Shafi‘i and the graveyard by the Muqattam Hills when I was stopped by a troupe of horsemen. Their leader addressed me in faulty Arabic: “You greet al-Zahir, our lord. Is forgotten? Cameleer go to your house, you come with us to the royal household.”

On the way back I asked him to postpone the meeting till the next day so I could go home, take a bath, and rest. But he refused, saying that I could do all that at the palace.