Bensalem Himmich - A Muslim Suicide

In the second dream I saw a woman who looked exactly like me. She refused to acknowledge the fact that I had already forgotten the one thing that I had considered the most precious thing in my life.

"What's that?" I asked her.

"Good grief," she responded, "the manuscript-your lost manuscript!"

I told her that I had long since despaired of ever locating it and refused to bother about something that no longer had any point.

"But your long lost manuscript's in my hands," she said. "I'm prepared to give it back, but on one condition."

"And what's that?" I asked her.

"That you change your religion, and become a Jew."

"I belong to a faith that represents the seal, substituting the general for the particular, and even the One and Only God for the Trinitarian views of the Gospels. All that makes it unnecessary for me to bother about coincidentals, even if they include my manuscript."

The fields and orchards all made it possible for me to gradually dismiss these nightmares and daydreams. I decided to extend my stay so I could allow my spirits to recover from the strains and miseries to which they had been exposed and renew my sense of expansion and security. I spent my time on a number of different activities: contemplative prayer and a decision not to write anything (except with that unseen pen that operated in the imagination); learning about certain horticultural and irrigational skills from my expert guardians; teaching their children language and grammar rules; and occasionally resolving disputes that arose. All that was in addition to the walks I took in the area and its surroundings. I used to walk somewhere and sit on the roots of flowering trees. Once in a while I would emulate Al-Shushtari, my beloved friend and host, by rolling in the grass and earth; at others, I would imitate birds and domestic animals by sharing their sheer delight in life. Finally I would head for Solomon's Spring, drink some of its water, and wash myself.

However, no one should imagine that I ever forgot about my dear wife who had died on her way to Mecca. While I was staying in these regions, I would often visit her grave in my imagination and spend as much time as I could clasping at its soil, bathing it in tears, and implanting my fervent kisses on it. It would have been my dearest wish to find an entryway so I could be with her, thereby joining her in proximity to God Almighty and the havens of that wondrous eternity.

FIVE MONTHS LATER Yasir came out from Mecca to inform me of something that was almost inevitable: Abu Numa and my disciples were insisting that I come back. What is more, Sitt Umama had returned to the city and kept asking for me. Yasir asked me if I would in fact come back, then handed me a letter from my students and another from my dear friend Al-Shushtari. Both of them offered their condolences on the death of my beloved wife.

At sunrise the next morning, I said farewell to my Maghribi guardians, but not before they had received a promise from me to come back at the earliest possible opportunity. I returned to my residence in Mecca as fast as my horse would allow. Yasir and Ghaylan both welcomed me profusely. I washed, prayed, and changed clothes, then headed for the governor's palace, eager to find out what had led him to summon me back. When I arrived, he greeted me warmly and, with a minimum of questions, assured himself that I was well. For a while he spoke about his concerns and responsibilities: making the road to Mecca safe for pilgrims, preparing things for the pilgrimage season, and implementing various measures to control the flood of visitors so as to avoid troubles and disasters. I shared with him my view that there should be some limit to the number of visitors to the holy shrine at any one time and some organization of the way in which they moved in groups through the various stages of the ritual. In particular, there was a pressing need for more guards, doctors, and medical technicians. On that count he agreed with me and promised to do whatever he could.

"But then," he sighed, "what are we to do when so many pilgrims hope to die and be buried in this blessed territory?!"

In my own mind I resented such people, but what I loathed even more was the idea of those nasty, murderous thugs who waylaid pilgrims-may their efforts and pilgrimages find no such blessings! For a few moments my companion said nothing, as though he were preparing to tell me something momentous, the real reason for summoning me. The gist of it was that every indication suggested that Al-Malik Al-Zahir Baybars was planning to perform the pilgrimage this year. He therefore encouraged me to take all necessary precautions and to avoid all the usual hiding places, beginning in Dhu al-Qa`da until such time as the danger was past. That was particularly necessary, he went on, because Baybars had learned the identity of the author of the letter of fealty to the Hafsid caliph, al-Mustansir.

I calmed the governor's concerns about my precautions and plans, offered him my prayers of thanks, and then left with a show of determination.

So here we were in the first day of the month of Jamadi al-Akhira in the year 667 AH [1269 CE]; in other words, five months or less before Baybars would arrive. I decided to spend the time between my residence, the Hira' Cave, and Abraham's Shrine. At times I would be instructing students, while at others I preferred to be alone and spend the time in pleasant contemplation. When I returned to the Meknesi residence, it was to find Yasir waiting for me. He indicated Sitt Umama, who was awaiting my return in the garden. No sooner had I moved toward her than she jumped up, kissed my shoulder, and offered me condolences on the death of my wife, her voice full of sadness. In order to calm her down, I offered her my thanks, then led her back to where she had been sitting. I asked her how she was, but her only response was to lean over-her eyes still filled with copious tears-and to tell me, "God help you, Sir, in the loss of your beloved wife. Only someone who has also lost an irreplaceable loved one can truly appreciate the pain you must feel. Promise to take me to her grave so that I can beg God's mercy on her pure soul. If you agree, then let it be soon, the last Friday of this month." I signaled my acceptance of her suggestion, then accompanied her to the door, feeling deeply affected.

Immediately after dawn on the appointed day, I charged Ghaylan with accompanying the lady on the caravan to `Aydab, while I would join them at the cemetery in that unlucky town. Thus it came about that, just a few hours later, we were standing together at the graveside of my beloved wife, Fayha', begging God to have mercy on her and praying fervently. When it was time to go back, my female companion asked for a little more time. I watched in amazement as she proceeded to throw herself on the grave, embrace it fervently, and utter uncontrollable sobs, moistening the soil with copious tears. At the same time she kept repeating typically Egyptian prayers, the like of which I had never heard before. For a few moments, Ghaylan and I just stood there, mouths agape, not knowing what to do. At that point the sun was right overhead and beating down on us. The lady now begged me to let her spend the night in the company of Fayha' and her pure spirit, but I firmly rejected the idea. I stood her up, clasped her to me, and headed for the exit so as to put a distance between her and the grave. She kept on crying, but then fell silent. At the cemetery gate I handed her over to Ghaylan to take back to Mecca and the Muwaffaq hostel. Meanwhile I mounted my horse. In the light of what had happened on this truly amazing morning, I let both it and my emotions have free rein.

Before the end of Rajab, what had been becoming more and more likely actually happened. Using a dogged insistence that was impossible to resist, both Yasir and Ghaylan urged me to act-namely to marry Sitt Umama in accordance with all the rituals enjoined by the faith, God, and his Prophet. The whole thing was done with a minimum of fuss or ceremony so as to reflect the more intimate joys implicit in the occasion. The actual ceremony of the wedding night took place at my residence, and a day later the bride moved to a life of security beneath my own roof. There I spent a period of almost two months in her amiable company. When the month of Ramadan was almost at an end, I suggested that we spend the festival period at Solomon's Spring, although I did not explain to her what was the real reason, the compulsory factor, that required me to go there. She seemed pleased by the idea and readily agreed.