Bensalem Himmich - A Muslim Suicide

The zawiya devoted itself to closeted ascetics, travelers, and seasonal residents, people with a whole host of different demands and needs. There were both single rooms and shared ones, a wing reserved for observers of silence, and a courtyard open to the heavens for people who wished to talk. Its facilities included a bathhouse and a small mosque. About half a mile away was another house; people told me it was kept for the mentally ill and lunatics. The man in charge, whose name was 'Abd al-Barr al-Baradi'i, was a goodly person who made sure that money from the city-state of Sabta and contributions from donors were duly spent on every resident in accordance with his abilities and efforts. For my part I gave whatever I could.

I spent my time here in prayer, contemplation, study, and learning. Whenever I could, I wandered along the shore and up the hills. When the weather was nice, I longed for the Spain I'd lost. I looked over the straits at Algeciras and then at the Rock of Gibraltar right in front of me; in my mind I could envision myself climbing to the top of the mountain named after the great conqueror and leafing through the pages of glory and honor.

Over the course of the year I spent in my new abode, the circle of regulars who attached themselves to me as disciples expanded of its own accord. It felt like a plant in hibernation, even though some parts of it would disappear for cogent reasons that I did not understand. The core of the group consisted of a quartet, made up of 'Abd al 'Amr, `Adnan, and Al-Sadiq. Every time they came to visit me and I questioned them about their personal circumstances, they were very reassuring, eager, no doubt, for me to remain assiduous in maintaining the sanctity of my own retreat and the fervor of my mission. I kept giving them details of my life inside the zawiya, in the hope that they would appreciate it and take it to heart.

Here now is something that I shared with them all on a sunny day in the mosque courtyard just before the noontime prayers:

"This dwelling, my dear friends, possesses an atmosphere that is replete with vision and nuance. Some of it comes to me when asleep, while other aspects occur in wakeful hours. What is not open to doubt is that they all descend from a lofty, innovative sphere, from a space that is both widespread and firmly established. In such a circumstance the only way I would have of preventing breaths from ascending or breaking arrows in their very bows is by leading people astray and acting unjustly, fomenting evil and ignominy-God forbid!

"As the days of my life proceed along their headlong path, my loftiest and brightest moments are the ones I spend here in this zawiya amid the mountains. I am liberated from all ties and obligations save those that link me to the untrammeled absolute that alone is suitable for me to be created and given essence in its names. Neither old age nor exhaustion has been the factor that has led me to strive in this direction, but rather a vintage maturity, a mystical gift that I have sought and struggled to attain."

With that, I started giving brief answers to the questions that some of them posed. Once they had finished, I asked them all to stand, and they did. The emotional expressions on their faces made it clear that they had comprehended my words and learned a lesson. In saying their farewells, they all embraced me one by one, then left. This time I did not allow anyone to stay behind, even those who were closest to me.

I can also recall another gathering with the same group in the zawiya's courtyard where talking was permitted. This time, however, there were more of them. I started the session by remaining silent for an hour or more. There followed another hour during which we watched a maniac pass by, talking to himself.

"Screeching silence," he was saying, "piercing optimism, passionate desire, although everything is roiled in misfortune and risk. I'm spending almost my entire life trying to cancel doubts with certainty…"

Still another ascetic walked past us, but this time he only communicated in gestures and signs. Having noted their implications, I proceeded to interpret the import of what I had been hearing.

"Just observe this holy man," I told them. "No sooner is he in the clutches of his linkage to the Most High than you can see him as he is now, reeling in utter joy, beating his chest, and ordering you busybodies to stay away from him and those things that you can neither see nor appreciate…

"The real tragedy, my friends," I went on, "is that we're all reluctant to learn about creation; either that or we're content with its outer shell as observed via mere fleeting images. Connections based on close bonds of love are eaten away by the passage of time till they rot and die away.

"Poor and indigent folk are scared and bloodied by the way we shun and despise them. We avert our gaze in order to banish them from our environment and consciousness, to such an extent that they grovel in dark caves of oblivion and neglect. Such behavior, if you would only think about it, is the very essence of error. It was Moses-peace upon Him! — who said, `Lord, where should I seek you?' `With those of broken hearts,' replied the Lord of Messengers and continued, `and make sure you do not consort with the dead!' And who are the dead, 0 Prophet of God?' was the next question. `The rich,' he replied.

"Lord God, grant us to be close to You, along with Your saints and the poor who are dear to You! Amen!"

The entire assembly devoutly chanted "Amen." Once I had answered a few of their questions, they all departed.

At another session in the courtyard open to the sky, I recall that my quartet of confidants informed me that the issue of absence was preoccupying their thoughts and causing them anxiety. Here is part of my response to the group:

"It's true that my mind spends its most profitable moments clashing with the willful elements that seek to oppose or deny it. Am I destined one day to become like Al-Hallaj,* Al-Tawhidi, al-Ma`arri, and al-Suhrawardi*-and before their time, Jesus Son of Mary and others-who all finished up in agony as they drew near to the absolute truth?

"What I do know is that every time I invert existence, I plunge deep into the labyrinths of meaning, far removed from well-trodden pathways and oftrepeated phrases…. Every profound researcher is honor-bound to eschew the pursuit of pleasure and the acquisition of fame.

"Since we all live in a milieu that is suffering from an acute intellectual sickness, with widespread and multifarious illiteracy, all the researcher who aspires to an untrammeled atmosphere can do is to choose to learn about the incredible, creative absence. In such a quest may lie his own private way of counteracting such rampant idiocy and working on high-level meetings between people whom I'll term `absentees:

"And who exactly are these `absentees'? By that name I imply those who are attracted toward the Sublime, from among whom examples such as Ibn Bajja* from Saragossa and Ibn Tufayl* from Guadix come to mind, models made up of possible identities, representing the truth of time by means of emulation and enrichment.

"So do not heap blame on poets, philosophers, or Sufis if they decide to enclose themselves in ivory towers! Instead hold them to account; indeed, censure them if their isolation fails to produce something that is rare and valuable and if what emerges from their towers is not something to delight the soul and entice the observer.

"My dear friends, as I noted earlier, our era is indeed suffering from an obvious intellectual weakness, by which I mean the absence of any kind of investigation into the real meaning and import of our existence here on earth when confronted with the trials and tribulations of this world and time itself.

"In order to counteract such things, we need to start by observing points of focus and evidence, by gathering our share of Promethean fire, and by revealing our bid as a freshly formed indication of our own presence in history.