Bensalem Himmich - The Polymath

Within minutes the midwife arrived with her assistant. After greeting me, she asked me to leave. I went back to my office, but my mind was totally distracted. I kept saying “0 Merciful God!” over and over again so as to dispel all the dire presentiments I kept having.

Oh and Oh again! The twists of fate! Dear God, I have suffered my share of them and more. Was it not more than enough when the Great Plague snatched my father and teachers away? Did You not strike me too hard when my wife and children were drowned at sea?

I don’t know how long the time actually was that I spent, an emotional wreck, measuring the wait by the beat of my pulse. My entire brain felt as if it were chained down by dreadful chimeras and premonitions.

Then all of a sudden came the first signs of my release: a single sound followed by a baby’s crying. Confirmation came when the midwife invited me in to look at my daughter and check that everything was fine. Beaming with the greatest conceivable happiness, I responded to her congratulations with profuse expressions of thanks. I leaned over and kissed Umm al-Banin, offering thanks to God for her safe delivery and for our new daughter, al-Batul.

Umm al-Banin looked pale, and her hair was a mess. Her smiling face was a mixture of sweat and tears of joy. She looked as though she had just been through fierce combat but had finally emerged victorious. I asked the midwife to take good care of her, then left the room in response to the shouts of Sha‘ban who was waiting outside. His eyes welling up with tears of sheer joy he hugged and congratulated me, then gave me a scaled letter which had been sent by messenger from the sultan’s palace. I opened it and found it was a copy of a decree appointing me teacher of hadith at the Sarghitmishiya College. The decree had been dated — incredible to believe — more than two weeks earlier, but never mind. . I hugged Sha‘ban and allowed him in to see Umm al-Banin and our baby girl. Then I went and sat down at my desk. “Joy upon joy,” I told myself with untrammeled delight, “like light upon light! This daughter of mine has already me the most incredible good fortune. When Your Lord announced: If you show thanks, We will indeed increase it for you . My Lord, through Your goodness and munificence I am the happiest of mortals. I am so grateful!”

I stood up and undressed myself so I could wash before prayer, but only after I had organized the major works on hadith on a shelf, prime amongst them being The Smooth Path by Malik ibn Anas, imam of Medina. Perhaps his would serve as the organizing text for the materials to be covered in my classes.

Once I had finished my prayers I headed for Umm al-Banin’s room, but retraced my steps when I found her surrounded by women of all ages consuming sweetmeats and cups of milk and emitting trills of joy. I called for Sha‘ban and gave him a sum of money to buy essentials including, of course, a ram for sacrifice on the seventh day. Then I sat down with Malik’s tome and started preparing for the classes after the afternoon and sunset prayers at the new college to which I had been appointed.

The topic I selected was one for which I had obtained a number of licentiate degrees from my teachers in the Maghrib. It was not my intention either to take Malik’s side or to lay stress on the fact that people in the Maghrib tended to imitate him and follow his teachings. What I had in mind was the fact that Egyptian students are much in need of elementary instruction in hadith; they really want a truly unusual imam who can transcend all the compromises and difficulties and use them all to bang on the wall. Ahmad ibn Hanbal said, “When you’re talking about hadith, Malik is really ‘the Commander of the Faithful.’” Before him al-Shafi‘i had said, “If a hadith comes from Malik, grab it with both hands.” So I planned the basic elements of the class in my head, trying to frame it in accordance with the clearest pedagogical methods. First, a biography of the author of The Smooth Path with details of his life and in particular the circumstances in which he passed on his learning — his bodily and mental fitness, his profound belief and devotion, and his good reputation among religious scholars and pietists. Second, a history of the book itself, taking into account its transmitters, the qualities of the different readings in accordance with the chain of authorities used. Thirdly (and lastly), the body of the text and its contents.

The women’s cries of joy grew yet louder. In the meantime, all I could do was snatch a few bites of lunch, then head for the Sarghitmishiya school in order to meet the principal and lecture to the students. I told Sha‘ban that, all being well, I would return home after the sunset prayers.

When I reached home later on, I rushed up to Umm al-Banin’s room and found some women still there. I greeted them, and they responded before taking their leave; all, that is, except two who made their way to the kitchen. Umm al-Banin looked as happy as could be, smiling and eager to talk, but covering her face with her hand whenever she felt shy or overcome by emotion. I checked on the baby and found she was nursing from her mother, half-awake and half-asleep. I stared at her for a long time, as though I had never seen a nursing baby before.

“Praise be to God,” I said. “We have been blessed with the birth of a wonderful child. If you like, I’ll name her al-Batul on the morning of the seventh day. Now you need to ask me where I went at noontime today. No, save your energy and let me tell you. Sultan Barquq has appointed me teacher in a major school near the Ahmad ibn Tulun Mosque that you know well. The appointment letter was delivered to me on the very morning of the day when this blessed child arrived. I gave my first class following the afternoon prayer. Ask me how it went — it was well received, and I had a number of compliments on it.

“I thank God for his blessings,” she replied with a certain amount of effort. “I pray God to preserve you for al-Batul and her mother, to grant you success, and give you a position of prestige.”

What pure sentiments those were, making their way straight to the heart where they were tokens of affection and beauty. I leaned over my drowsy wife and kissed both her and the baby, then headed for my office to get some sleep.

On the day of the ram sacrifice, I decided that I wanted an occasion that was simple and unassuming; in other words, without lots of guests, a band, or elaborate spread. I was not prepared to listen to people gossiping about my having a child at such an age or anything else connected with my personal life. The question of women invitees did not involve me, although I did suggest to my wife that she make do with just a few of them.

I thought about Sa‘d, Umm al-Banin’s brother, and sent Sha‘ban to fetch him so he could share in our joy and I could check on his condition. A little before noon the slaughterer arrived. I slit the throat myself, intoned the phrase “God is great!” and named our child amid a female chorus of trills and cheers. Sha‘ban outdid himself in offering a helping hand, spraying perfumes, and negotiating between slaughterer and cook. Sa‘d, who looked fine to me, went around the house offering his help, seemingly unconcerned about sharing space with women.

So, everything went exactly as I had wanted. When everyone had eaten their fill and the poor had been given their share. I went to a room whose window looked out on the guest quarters. From late afternoon onward the house began to fill up with throngs of women visitors; I had no idea who they were or where they came from. And, of course, as with any occasion like this where a lot of women gather together, the devil made his appearance in the form of singing and dancing. However, my curiosity was such that I could not stop myself lending both ear and eye to what has going on. Women from the Maghrib and Egypt vied with each other to light up the scene with all kinds of dance and song and the various instruments of pleasure as well, in the form of drinking cups and food trays.