Bensalem Himmich - A Muslim Suicide

Ibn Khalas stood up and handed me a medium-sized sack. He informed me that it contained purses of gold that were a gift to me from the Norman king. I reminded him that I had originally asked that they be returned to their sender, but he replied that that would have been difficult, in fact impossible. He told me I could either take them as a legitimate gift or else leave them to tarnish in the governorate's coffers. He then pointed to a steed in my stable and informed me that it too was a gift from the king. Without even waiting to hear my reaction, he gave me a warm hug and wished me a blessed hajj and well-rewarded activities. Accompanying him to the place where his horse was tethered, I bade him farewell as night was falling. With that he departed, escorted by a squad of his guards and aides.

ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF BADIS, a village of scattered houses and grassy expanses, I slowed my horse so it could recover its breath and relax a bit. The pilgrims were making ready to spend the night in a wide, desolate valley. I sat on a tree trunk watching the sunset and contemplating my present and future. If I had been able to do so, I would have asked someone else to tell me why I felt so exhausted. As it was, the selfsame voice that had often spoken at moments like these now decided to speak:

"Listen," it said, "as you can see for yourself, you have a light load to carry and a swift, regal steed beneath you. You're fulfilling the promise you made to catch up with the pilgrim caravan, the one you made with Ibn Khalas's squad at the door of your house. They allowed you a few hours to get ready. If their commander, Al-A`ma [the blind man] from Sicily, had not interceded on your behalf, they would have removed you forcibly at dawn. You made good use of that precious time to write a short note to your blessed wife, in which you proffered every conceivable excuse for leaving on the hajj in such a hurry and reassured her that things were fine. You asked her to return to the family home as soon as she could. By so doing, you explained why you had been willing to travel with very little baggage. In the margin you had written a note to Hamada, sending him your greetings and telling him to look after his mistress, Fayha'. You had also spent some time checking that everything in the house was as it should be and offering counsel and gifts to the servants. When it was finally time to depart, you had put your previous hesitation aside regarding the gold pieces from the king of Sicily and taken them with you, concealed in your baggage, all in the hope of returning them to King Frederic or, if that proved impossible, giving them to any needy people whom you might meet on the way. So, now that you have started your journey, albeit under compulsion, do you intend to pursue it to its final goal or will you be breaking your journey whenever you see fit?"

"The hajj is one of Islam's pillars," you replied, "an obligation for whoever is able to perform it. However, I will only undertake it when it is my own intention. You know the reasons for my exit from Sabta. During my exile, to the extent possible I am going to take an expansive view of things in terms of place and time: I may decide to stay in some cities that possess the necessary spiritual and pleasurable qualities; others I may pass by. Perhaps I will go to see the Hafsid ruler, Abu Zakariyya, to discuss matters in the Maghrib and Spain, but then maybe not. I may turn aside and visit the king of Sicily in order both to instruct and negotiate; there again, I may not…"

"So be it," said the fading voice, "bravo, by God, bravo! That way, you don't need to explain things to your beloved wife, who tends to get anxious and cry a lot."

Thus ended my thoughts, as it turned cold and night fell. I got up in order to go down into the valley, join the group, and show myself to the people who were expecting me. Once I had arrived and dismounted, some of the guards escorted me to the person whose name I had mentioned. No sooner had I entered the tent and my name been called than Al-A'ma from Sicily came over and offered me a warm welcome. He introduced me to the hajj caravan leader, his guide, his counselor, and some other people with him.

"Didn't I tell you all?" he said. "Ibn Sabin, the saint of God, is a believer who keeps his word when he makes a promise."

He then invited me to share the evening meal with them. By way of excusing myself, I said that it was my custom to sleep on an empty stomach. I preferred to rest after the tiring day's journey, and made my way to a small tent close by.

Early next morning after I had performed the dawn prayer in the open air, my host invited me to his tent to have breakfast with him on our own. I noticed how skillful he was at pouring milk into cups and how he managed to name each kind of bread and the oil and honey he put on them as he graciously handed them to me. I attributed it to the skills that blind people develop. He then started describing the color and shape of the clothes I was wearing and congratulated me on their fine quality and the excellent way they matched my stature. He advised me not to pluck out the white hairs in my beard so they would grow to their full extent and not lead to the appearance of others before their time. All this amazed me, and I asked him if he had some kind of sixth sense that allowed him to detect so much detail.

He smiled. "Yes, saint of God," he replied in a whisper, "I use that sixth sense but also my naked eye!"

"And do you keep it open as well," I joked, "so you can ogle the women on the roof when you're doing the call to prayer?"

"No, no, heaven forbid!" he replied with a chuckle. "I only keep my eye open for His Excellency, Ibn Khalas the governor. He brought me from the court of the Hafsid Abu Zakariyya and hired me in his own service. He's the only one who knows that particular secret, and now you do as well. I'm sure you'll keep it that way. And now tell me some of your own secrets, so I can dig a hole for them inside my own heart."

"Since you're an agent for the governor," I asked with a wily chuckle, "what on earth can there be that you don't already know about me?"

"For example," he said, "are you planning to return to Sabta before going on the hajj? Do you intend to seek an audience with King Frederic and Sultan Abu Zakariyya?"

"God willing, I'll be returning to Sabta after the hajj, sooner or later," I replied resolutely. "And yes, I'm planning to meet the two monarchs, but only because such meetings will be to the benefit of Muslims."

My companion stopped eating and gave me a piercing stare from his one good eye. "I want you to treat any idea of meeting the Norman king as a complete impossibility," he said. "The reasons are complicated, and I'm sure that your broad intellect will be able to appreciate them. Previously we removed your request for such a meeting from the letter to the king, and confiscated your other letter to him from your envoy, Khalid of Tangier. With regard to access to the Hafsid ruler, you would have to face a thousand doorkeepers, the last of whom would be Abu Bakr al-Sakuni, who is the primary executive authority in the court. The only way you would be able to present yourself to the ruler would be over his dead body. He has every detail about you in his quiver, and his sleeves are loaded with reports concerning your deviant and heretical postures. I would strongly suggest that you make your way gently past Tunis, flitting as lightly as possible as you skirt the region and everyone who lives there. You won't be able to give any lessons or deliver any legal opinions. There will be no encounters with new recruits or gullible listeners. My best advice to you is to avoid unnecessary pitfalls and annoyances. As the saying puts it, you have to excuse the person who warns in advance."