Bensalem Himmich - A Muslim Suicide

I did my ablutions and washed, and then sat around a low table with Umama. I ate her food and praised her cooking-with its authentic Egyptian touch, but suggested that it was lacking certain necessary spices. She thanked me for my compliments.

"My dear husband," she asked me in amazement once she had finished eating, "you are clearly gifted in the realms of learning and Sufism, incredibly so. But I also observe that you are equally skillful in matters of politics and government. Otherwise why would the Mamluk Sultan Baybars resent you so much that he wants to catch you?"

I was aware that my interrogator already knew a few details about Sultan Baybars's life and admired him, as did I.

"My dear lady," I replied as briefly as possible, "major politicians and rulers are never happy simply to control the reins of authority. They've always wanted religious scholars to do their will as a way of enhancing their prestige and efficacy. If any religious scholar chooses to object to the process, their enforcers proceed to bully the scholar in question until he changes his stance and does what he is told; either that, or else he is exiled or murdered. The vast majority of religious scholars give up and go along. Only a tiny minority ever hold fast and stick to their beliefs. Through God's power and will, I'm one of that tiny minority. I've used outright rejection as my strategy, but without needing to die for it. That's why I'm now in hiding, the idea being that Baybars won't be able to do to me what Salah al-din the Ayyubid did to Al-Suhrawardi, for example (and there are many others as well)."

"So, my dear heart," she said, "you are refusing to die a grisly death! Here you are with me in this cellar, enjoying our legitimate pleasures and eating myful mudammas* and other dishes! This is a boon from God that the Mamluk Sultan cannot even imagine."

I laughed, and she laughed with me.

"Now our God has a claim against us!" I said in a more sober tone.

"Indeed he does," she replied. "But what prayer are we supposed to pray, when we don't even know what time of day it is? What is your opinion in view of this unusual situation?"

"No, you tell me what you think."

For a moment she stared at me in amazement. "Women have no role in such things," she said.

"Yes, they do," I replied. "You have knowledge, intelligence, and sincerity, even though our scholar-pedants may hate the very idea. Don't you remember the hadith of our noble Prophet concerning `A'ishah,* mother of the believers: `Take half of your religious beliefs from this Himyari woman!'?"

She paused for thought, then bashfully expressed her opinion with lowered eyes.

"In view of the requirements of this situation, you most just of people," she said, "we should combine the five daily prayers into one late at night, just before we begin to feel sleepy."

"By God, that's the correct answer," I said. "With a little bit more study and effort, I can give you a certificate in Mecca as an interpreter of religious doctrine. Now get up and wash, then finish the other things you want to do."

As I lay down on the bed with my eyes open, I uttered words of praise to God as I invoked devotional thoughts and gave more focused thought to what I might do in this cellar to use the time more profitably. Some ideas began to take shape in my head, and I made up my mind to clarify them as soon as I woke up the next day.

I was brought back from my contemplations by the sound of Umama's voice, waking me up again before I fell sound asleep. I proceeded to lead the prayer with my wife, who was now my companion in this cellar and my period of hiding. She would be keeping me company and using her care, joy, and innate sense of fun to lighten the burdens that I was feeling.

Next morning the first thing I did with my wife was to use some sacks and curtains to cordon off a corner for myself. In it I put a bed board, a table, and the poetry and other books that Al-Shushtari had given me. Among them was an incomplete copy of the Kitab al-I`tibar by the prince of Shayzar, Usama ibn Mungidh*-may God give us the benefit of his memory! From now on I started spending a lot of time reading and whispering the Kawthar litany. Umama meanwhile was spending her time memorizing the Qur'an, doing household tasks, and using incense to lessen the humidity in the cellar.

In a place where no light penetrates and no sound disturbs the silence, it is good for the soul to immerse itself in its interior world. In that world I was the monotheist existent, the tester and observer. I had both roles to play and postures to maintain, the keys to which in my current situation involved as much as I was able to remember. My entire life bubbled and rose before my eyes with images and memories, taking me back to different periods and places, events and faces, all of them intertwined and interconnected. One might say that they provided a snapshot of what I had been and the point I had now reached. As I delved into my memories, famous dead people came to occupy a prominent place and lofty station, headed, of course, by my wife, Fayha', who had been my very life and the lovely facilitator of my closeness to God Almighty.

I spent several days-I estimated them as six-either in my little corner or in communion with my wife. On the seventh day in the evening I heard Umama utter a cry as I sat in my closet. She had seen a basket lowered with a rope from the cellar entrance. I inspected the basket's contents and discovered food, water containers, and a note from Hammuda. He told me that "troops from Sultan Baybars had come to the encampment three times; they had searched everywhere and asked about you, holy man of God. I denied all knowledge of you, and so did the other members of the tribe. With that they went away. Through God's power, the ordeal will soon be over!"

"Our ordeal will be over soon, Umama!" I yelled to my wife. "Very soon."

She looked delighted at the news, although a cough kept preventing her from saying so. I gave her some honey mixed with oil. With God's help the cough became less severe. The next day, being the one when pilgrims go up to Mina, I invited my wife to do a virtual performance of the pilgrimage rituals, and she proceeded to join me, exactly like Al-Hallaj and others who were not able to perform the pilgrimage itself. When we had finished, we recited the name of God many times, then spent the tenth day relaxing, and making up for the food and sleep we had missed.

The next morning, a table was lowered that for both of us was a festival in itself. We put on the finest clothes that we had been given as gifts by the generous folk above us, performed the festival prayers, and then took turns reciting muwashshahahs and songs. Then I did what I loved to do so much, namely pacing and strutting up and down the cellar, followed by my wife, who perfumed me with incense and sprayed scented water over me. She was ululating and praising the fine clothes I was wearing. She also offered prayers of protection on my behalf against those who kept conspiring against me and all my enemies. We spent some remarkable hours this way, during the course of which I was able to extricate myself from all thought of the devious tactics of those enemies and to confront the challenges involved with a spirit of pure joy and lofty intent. From morning till night that particular day was filled with happiness and precious moments of sheer enjoyment. The feeling only came to an end when our eyelids started to droop, and we performed the five prayers together.

Very early in the morning I was awakened by the sound of my wife's coughing hard. I lit a candle and noticed that she was looking very pale and breathing with great difficulty. It was clear to me that honey and oil were not enough to deal with the situation; what she needed was fresh air. I shinned up the ladder and started knocking hard on the door, asking for someone to come and help. It was not long before Hammuda was looking down at me anxiously, wanting to know what the problem was. I told him that my wife was not well, so he brought two women and told them to them get my wife out of the cellar as quickly as possible and help her in any way they could. It took only a few moments for one of them to check on my wife and give us the good news that she had completely recovered. I took a deep breath, then asked my colleague, once I was back inside the cellar, whether I too could come out into the fresh air. He gave me the choice, but told me that, if I came out now, there was still a distinct danger, whereas if I could stand staying in there a couple of days more till Baybars and his army had left, it would be better. Any danger to which I might be exposed would also inevitably involve the people who had been so generous to me and had protected me from hunger and worry. Bidding my companion farewell once again, I told him that patience and endurance were my decision and my best weapon-may God protect you and your people from all harm!