Bensalem Himmich - A Muslim Suicide

There was a knock on the door and a demand that it be opened immediately. Bilal refused and started making a big fuss; then he rushed over to the door to make sure it was locked and leaned his entire weight on it. Efforts to break it down from the outside failed completely. I could hear them making a din outside and arguing over what to do next. But then a sudden silence fell, the kind that augurs ill and precedes the arrival of a big storm. The deputy governor and guard started whimpering, and Bilal screamed at them both to shut up. I got the impression that the guards outside were getting ready to break the door down or else inject smoke into the cell. I could only imagine how they would then set upon both Bilal and myself, giving us a severe beating. After a heroic resistance Bilal would be left on the floor in a pool of blood, while I would be punched and kicked before being led away blindfolded to some secret dungeon…

These musings were suddenly interrupted when I heard the voice of the governor himself, Ibn Khalas, who was begging me to open the door so he could make sure I was safe and apologize for the way the idiotic and boorish deputy governor had behaved. I said nothing for a while as I thought about it all, but a voice outside swore a solemn binding oath that he would indeed keep the promise he had made. I told him that this promise had to include Bilal and all my imprisoned followers. "Pinnacle of the Faith," Ibn Khalas assured me, "I hereby swear by God that that will be done; indeed now, before you leave this place."

What else could I do but believe what the governor had said and accept his word? I gestured to Bilal to open the door and go ahead of me. He obeyed my instructions and moved cautiously outside. Ibn Khalas appeared in the doorway, looking both fit and determined. He came over to me and embraced me, apologizing and sympathizing as he did so. He told the deputy governor, who was still splayed out on the floor, that he was immediately stripped of his post and would remain in prison exactly where he was. Ibn Khalas then instructed me to follow him, ordering the prison guard to leave with him and lock the door behind him. I walked along that dismal corridor accompanied by his aides and noticed on the way that every cell was empty and there was no sign of the people who had been imprisoned there. My entire face was beaming with joy. At the entrance to the governor's mansion my rescuer urged me to go home so I could clean myself up and get some rest. He fixed the following day after supper as the time for us to meet at my home, then commanded his muleteer to accompany me home.

WHEN I GOT HOME, I found that things were relatively quiet. I looked in on Bilal and found him contentedly receiving the ministrations of the two servantwomen. I went to my closet to clean myself up and perform the necessary prayers. When that was done, I decided the best thing I could do so as to allow myself room to recover and ponder what had happened was to stretch out on my bed. What preoccupied my thoughts was the question as to what the governor would be requesting of me the next day; he would certainly want me to quit Sabta at the earliest available opportunity. I could feel that I too was gradually leaning in that direction as well. By so doing all the current complications might well be resolved and clouds would disperse. Once that was settled, I would be able to return to my family and those who had inspired my best ideas. I would come back enveloped in the halo of the holy places and invigorated by the exalted wafts of divine presence. Returning from such a visit to Mecca might well serve as a wholly new impetus, a yet more effective path to the benefit of people.

Next evening the governor arrived at the appointed time. I welcomed him with all due ceremony, and we sat in the salon on either side of a table loaded with drinks and sweetmeats. He asked me how my family was, and I told him that my wife was in Tangier looking after her sick uncle. The governor extolled her moral qualities and expressed his hopes that her uncle would recover his good health. I in turn thanked him for what he had done the day before.

"Pinnacle of the Faith," he said, "you are a blessed man of religion. After our last meeting, I managed to regain my health-thanks be to God! — and recouped my energy. Sultan al-Sa`id has now turned his attention away from Tangier so that he can concentrate on the intrigues and conspiracies inside his own palace. If it were not for that fact, I certainly would not have been able to dismiss Al-Zughbi, the deputy governor, turn his own troops against him, and throw him in jail. But who knows how long this particular interim will last? I don't need to tell you that nothing in politics stays the same for very long. One day you're up, the next you're down. And too bad for anyone who goes too far or slacks off!"

I got the impression that my companion was working his way round to telling me what he wanted me to do, indeed broaching the subject first and specifying the timeline for it. Even so, I decided to say nothing and wait till he had said everything he wished to, at which point I could consider the situation in more detail.

"I have performed the obligation of the hajj on seven occasions," he said, "and I can't even count the number of times I've done the minor pilgrimage. Every year when the season approaches, my very soul longs to go to Mecca and Medina. If things here were more stable, I'd certainly be girding my steed and heading in that holy direction. So tell me, `Abd al-Haqq, have you decided to go on the hajj as I advised? We're half way through the month of Shawal. God willing, the hajj caravan plans to set out early tomorrow morning."

There was no way to avoid telling him what I thought. "How can I go on the pilgrimage when my wife is away and my preparations are not made? What's the point of rushing things when it would be better to wait till next year?"

"My dear brother," the governor told me, "your wife is like a little sister to me. I will make every effort to see that she manages to survive until you return. What's the point of going on the hajj now, you ask me? There's not just one reason, there are many: first, you'll be removed from all your followers, so their hue and cry will die down and I can relax a bit. By being out of sight for a while you'll be able to stay out of the way of people in both Sabta and Marrakesh who are trying to fence you in. They're just like beetles, conspiring against you and me nonstop. You sent two letters, one to the Norman king in Sicily and the second to the Marinid amir, Abd al-Haqq. My aides collected them both from your disciple, Khalid from Tangier. I'll tell you, by God, if the second one had fallen into the hands of your enemies and reached Sultan al-Said, both you and I would have perished. Is all this enough for you, or are you still hesitating about making your decision?"

Even though the governor was obviously telling the truth, I still had my doubts. How was I to know what he had in mind and if his plan made any sense? The overall goal seemed to be to be rid of me and banish me from his domains for good.

"I shall entrust what I do not know to God," I told him. "My hesitation is only because of my family. How can I go on the hajj like this without even notifying my life partner?"

"There's very little time left, Saint of God," the governor said. "It'll be fine for you to return to Sabta once things settle down in Marrakesh and affairs resume their normal course. Make your arrangements now; there are only a few hours left. If you decide to go, then all well and good. But if my guards come to your house on Friday and you tell them you're not going, then on your own head be it! My men will go with you as far as the outskirts of Bijaya; then most of them will come back. If it seems like a good idea, you can use that city as a way station on your journey; that's up to you. But let me warn you in the strongest terms: before you get there, make sure you don't decide to take refuge in the Marinid Zanata* territory between Tafilalet and Tadla. The sultan's spies will certainly chase you down and kill you. The Almohad regime-or what's left of it-is certainly not going to allow itself to come to an end because of you, even if it's only a minor factor. Don't imagine yourself as being the Ibn Qasi of this regime, Ibn Sab'in!"