Bensalem Himmich - A Muslim Suicide

So then, my beloved is my other focus after the qibla in Mecca and my ultimate resort! So be it! By the Lord of the Ka`ba, she is not to be a mere plaything so I can pass the time of day in frivolities and indulge in an excess of passion.

She is the one with the sweet face to die for, with its subtle expressions and abundant coquetry, one that I would take in my hands, a devoted reader who would contemplate its beauty forever and make my way around its grace and elegance, finding within it a light to shine on my conduct toward humanity, as I praised the one God and sought to enhance my standing in the eyes of the Almighty.

That is the way things are, and there is nothing else to revive and invigorate me in Sabta, the place where I now reside, my secondary base and exile abode. Anyone who claims otherwise is trying to defame me and is totally mistaken.

I manage to control the inner turmoil I'm feeling by staying in my house and keeping as calm as possible. I'm afraid of losing my self-control, so I don't go out anywhere where I might show people how overjoyed I am. Over time that very joy has only increased; in so doing it has eliminated any number of dogged problems that have beset me. If I were to go outside, I am sure that idiots would say, "Aha, he's just like us in every way, and we don't care whether he agrees or not." On the other hand, poor people who are intelligent and devout would probably put it differently and say, "Dear holy man of God, your joy is increasing in intensity; it is at odds with the spirit of this era that saddens us and makes us bleed. So take your personal joy and move it far away from our broken spirits and never-ending grief. Away, far away…"

Such talk is incoherent, in that it lacks subtlety and precision, seeking instead to downplay the role of listening and understanding. I have never claimed total absolute control for my feelings of joy, nor do I seek to absolve it of a sense of grief over the fall of Al-Andalus or, for that matter, of any anxiety over current or future situations.

No, I regarded it as a sign, something to revive and embolden me in the face of so many trials and tribulations, a flag fluttering in the breeze to indicate my endurance, courage, initiative, and resolve. With lofty ambition and firm resolve I would be able to embellish my defiance and determination with a stolid sense of happiness in order to be able to confront any notion of defeat or perdition. A voice whispered in my ear, "Have you not read in the text of the Qur'an: `Rejoice not, for God does not love those who do so?"' [Sura 28, v. 76], to which I replied, "Yes, but I have read it in its context, not separated and in isolation. It refers to the people of Moses addressing their leader, Aaron, and involves someone who is joyous to the point of wonder and pride in their mighty treasures. My joy on the other hand comes from an entirely different source and motivation. So try to understand."

I WAS JOLTED OUT OF MY REVERIE by a gentle tap on my door, followed by a soft neigh. Opening the door I found myself face to face with my horse, almost as though he had come to inquire about my health and check up on me. I held his head close and nuzzled him, whispering words of affection and good cheer to the effect that he would soon be conveying me to my mistress and his. After indicating that he understood and concurred, he turned around and happily retraced his steps. It occurred to me that I might follow him to make sure he went back to his stable or pasture and then take the opportunity to meet and talk to some of the folk residing in the wing for those who could talk, but instead I decided to remain in isolation and allow my daydreams completely free rein.

I settled myself down to read chapters in the books I had used to frame my bed. Whenever an idea or an inspiration occurred to me, I would write it down in my notes before it disappeared and Satan erased it from my memory. I kept this up for a while, not bothering whenever my stomach demanded food or the muezzin called people to prayer, only interrupting things in order to contemplate what I was reading and writing for a while. When it was early morning, I again opened Al-Harith al-Muhasibi's* Book of Contemplation, specifically at the section that had originally worried me and made me reject the ideas of this Sunni mystic who was so well known for his piety and virtue. He is talking about the believer who is promised an afterlife in paradise, within it "houris with soft-skinned bodies, virgin and sweet," residing there for evermore, lovely companions who will provide glasses of wine and cups of honey, milk, and water.

Just imagine the sweetness of her body as she embraces you in her arms, so soft and gentle that your two bodies almost blend with each other. Then imagine her beautiful breasts touching your chest and the sheer delight in fondling them. Smell the perfume of her cheeks, so enticing that your heart will forget everything else as it wallows in the sheer pleasure of it, filled with an unspeakable delight emanating from the exquisite touch and sweetly perfumed rapture that she has conveyed to your soul.

Thus far I found myself relishing the ideas, since up to this point things were limited to embracing, blending one with each other, and mutual touching, all of it followed by two beloveds sharing feelings of pleasure and rapture. But where I found myself opposing his visions and heartily disapproving of the sheer obscenity of his ideas was with regard to the following passage:

While you find yourself in this position, they will flirt with you. They will lean over and keep on hugging and kissing you as they cover your chest with their breasts. They will envelop you in their gorgeous faces, cover your body, and coat it with their fluids. Your nostrils will be filled with the sweet scent of their cheeks.

Such talk as this finds an analogy among the ancient Greeks under the name "orgy," the kind of thing that the god of wine and communal mayhem, Dionysus, would call for (duly imitated by the Romans with their god, Bacchus). Those peoples had the customs that they did, and we monotheists have adopted some of that heritage of wisdom as part of our own quest, along with certain aspects of its polytheism and legend. But it makes no sense to see even a merely superficial and unintentional influence in this parallel depiction of the Muslim paradise. My personal opinion is that, in this particular chapter-on revelry and debauchery- Al-Harith al-Muhasibi has done a poor job of cultivating imagination's fertile fields, failing completely to appreciate either meaning or intention. With that in mind I have questioned my own soul about paradise, assuming that it takes a form such as Al-Muhasibi describes it. I have determined that it is only against my will that I will ever be dragged to such a place. Instead I much prefer the other version, a place the like of which no eye has ever seen, no ear ever heard, and no human heart ever conceived. We might perhaps excuse Al-Muhasibi on the grounds that he is addressing the general populace and people with few dreams. His audience is the many deprived and oppressed people in the world, so he writes in accordance with their very limited imagination, people who perceive everything without the benefit of investigation and metaphor. May God never involve us in such delusions and anxieties. Amen!

Invoking this reasoning, I put Al-Muhasibi's book aside. Instead I started contemplating the refreshing bliss that would soon be my good fortune. On the day of our engagement and marriage night, I would be in my beloved's arms. Putting out the light and extinguishing the candles, I closed my eyes and addressed my own soul:

"Imagine, my soul, that you have just woken up on the promised day, carefree and happy, mouthing words both sweet and scintillating. Then you have done your ablutions prior to performing the obligatory prayers and eaten just enough to keep your hunger at bay. At the bathhouse you have scrubbed and washed yourself with hot water to freshen body and soul, and trimmed your beard and hair. Donning your most elegant clothes, you have daubed yourself with perfume and straightened your general appearance. During the noontime prayers everyone has been staring at you in admiration, wondering what kind of special occasion you are going to as you sit astride your faithful and blessed steed.