Bensalem Himmich - A Muslim Suicide

These thoughts and impressions emerged as a product of my reading, and I duly recorded them at the time, with the idea of returning to them at some point in the future and reorganizing them with a view to further study and publication.

I recalled that my copy of The Removal of Sandals was one that Amr of Cordoba had given me, but in a very poor edition. That brought to mind the question as to what would happen to him and my other students in Spain. Even though I had long since attributed the complete lack of news about them to their many preoccupations and the disasters of this era of ours, I still felt strangely depressed. At the same time I forced myself to suppress the notion that, with my forthcoming marriage, my own fortunes were on the rise while his were continually beset by misfortune.

I spent the remainder of the evening washing and praying without eating any dinner, then lay down on my bed and warded off sleep by reading selected parts of The Great Book of Songs by Abu al-Faraj al-Isfahani.* I must have read a great deal, because, when I woke up the next morning, I found the page open at "the story of `Umar with the girls who were staring at him through a hole in the tent."

I found myself wanting to visit the baths more than ever before, so I made my way there early to avoid the crush and noise. The masseur welcomed me and, as was his habit, selected a medium-warm spot, brought over a bucket of hot water and other things I would need, and started rubbing and pounding my joints with his usual skill. Once the sweat had poured off me and my muscles and tendons felt duly refreshed, he left me to relax on my back and wished me health and well-being.

It is amazing how tiny moths of drowsiness start fluttering over my eyelids just a few moments after such a massage. The way I keep them at bay is by pouring water over my face so as to keep myself awake and alert. Between one round of water and another, I get the anxious feeling of someone who needs to keep his mind concentrating and not let his body relax too much so that he'll doze off and fall asleep. In this case, however, no such problem arose; I had something much better in mind. I made use of my wakefulness to recall absent friends and loved ones, after which I put my dreams in order, categorized them, and filed away my musings and findings. It became completely obvious to me that the person whose presence towered over the top of all these elements was none other than the lady with whom, with God's will and help, I would soon be living. Once enfolded in her companionship and tender care I would be able to forget the ordeal that the loss of my valuable manuscript had caused me.

I allowed my mind to wander into contemplation of having her close as my life companion and spending time together, all of which seemed to augur well for our future. I came to see my marriage to her, and indeed to her alone with no other wives, as being a symbol and pledge of a deep-rooted commitment on my part to enter the phase of all-comprehensive monotheism. This marriage would bring together the aspirations of my flesh and body by providing a release from the excessive variety of ways I had used to fumble my way around the thighs and embraces of various women. Fed jointly by Fayha' and knowledge, I would inevitably be destined to substitute profundity for superficiality and grain for chaff. The partial can only be known through the totality, the branch only through contact with the root. The sheer validity of what is possible in creation lies in its attainment of the Necessary Existent, which draws all existing things toward the one who is God alone…

My daydreams or sleep were interrupted by a noise from outside. I was aware of the masseur leaning over in my direction and asking my permission in his Maghribi dialect to wash me down. Pointing to my back, I sat down and asked him what all the fuss was about. He told me that the owner of the baths had refused to allow three lunatics to enter the baths, his idea being to prevent any trouble or disturbance. With that, he left me and went out in a hurry. I did not set eyes on him again until I had taken my spot in the lounge room, where I was able to pay him his fee and listen in on the heated conversation between the bath owner and the lunatics. They were claiming that, like everyone else, they had a right to bathe themselves with hot water, while the owner kept telling them that entry to the bath was restricted to people who were sane. The entire amazing conversation revolved around definitions of who was sane and who was a lunatic, and what the differences between the two might be. When things reached the point of threatening gestures with sandals and clenched fists, the masseur came over to me and asked my opinion on the subject of the argument. I was presented to the assembled company as being someone who was able to make authoritative decisions, besides my being a person of piety and devotion. They all accepted my arbitration in the matter.

"Esteemed holy man," the senior member of the lunatics demanded, "before any further chit-chat, please define sanity for us all."

First I dried my hair and put on my turban, all the while thinking of the simplest way of making the masseur, the lunatics, and the bath owner understand the definition involved.

"Sanity, my friends-may God provide you all with it," I said, "consists of a balance of light whereby mankind can distinguish truth from falsehood, good from bad, and beautiful from ugly. Some people claim it is centered on the head, others on the heart, and still others on a combination of the two."

The bath owner now addressed me in a tone that blended high esteem and complaint. "Dear Sir," he said, "these men possess no intelligence in any part of their bodies. They insist on using this bath without payment and playing havoc as though they were devils or troublesome teenagers. Once or twice I've overlooked their behavior, but this time the answer is no!"

"If God had provided us with some money," said a second lunatic, "we would certainly be willing to pay. And if someone were willing to heat some water for us in our residence, then we would wash ourselves there…"

"Here's what our minds tell us," said a third. "This bath belongs to God, so any of His servants may enter it…"

"Dear holy man of God," begged the bath owner, "rescue me from these accursed people! Use your logic to keep them away…"

"Let me handle these poor wretches," I replied, using the tone of a sage who never speaks on a whim. "They'll go into the bath one by one. Everyone will have his turn. That way, everyone can be satisfied, with no cause for distress or harm."

I got to my feet and paid generously for the entrance fee. Since the men's silence seemed to imply that they were satisfied, I said my farewells and departed, leaving it to everyone else to put my fatwa into practice. All the while people kept flocking into the bathhouse.

As soon as I got back to my house, I found a sealed letter under the door. I opened it eagerly and read my beloved's message in her clear handwriting. She sent me her greetings, in so doing addressing me as her dearest darling, and went on to let me know that, God willing, our engagement would take place on the evening of the first Friday in the current month of Rabi' al-Awwal; all the necessary arrangements were in place. She closed the letter with expressions of love and desire.

There were just three days or fewer left before the appointed day. Even if it had been less time, I was feeling so utterly thrilled and in love that I would have accepted it in any case. The sheer rapture I was experiencing afforded me an inner sense of the true meaning of life in all its wonder. I swiftly went about my daily tasks, then lay down on my bed to relax and think for a while, all in the hope of crafting a safe haven for my present life and a course of action for my anticipatable future. Right from the start, I realized that every limb in my body was pulsating with desire for the one whom I longed to hold as she did me. That desire was a reality, with no ifs, ands, or buts; it was a reality that now had total control over me, so much so that it was pointless to fake its impact by referring to the writings of ascetics and hermits-neither that nor indulging in negative thoughts about possible outcomes and the games that fate plays with human beings.