Rabih Alameddine - The Hakawati

She hung up without saying goodbye. I figured there were many reasons for her to be angry in this situation, but, knowing her, the fact that she was going to be a grandmother at her age might top the list.

I decided I would leave for Lebanon on the Saturday after finals. I could get a plane to New York, then Rome, then Beirut, and arrive just in time. Civil war or not. It had been calm for about six days. I could go to the wedding, spend some time with the family, and return before classes began again. The wedding would be in the mountains. Nothing was happening there. There had been no bombs, no shootings, at least for the last little while.

One day, a messenger entered the diwan carrying a letter from the mayor of Alexandria: “A majestic galleon waving the flag of peace entered our port and dropped anchor. A nobleman emerged and announced that he is the vizier of the king of Genoa and brings a letter to the sultan of Islam and bears many gifts for Your Majesty. He wishes an audience at the diwan.” King Saleh dispatched a reply asking the mayor to allow the vizier entry. The vizier of Genoa sailed the Nile and sought the diwan upon arrival in Cairo. He genuflected before the king and offered a letter from his liege. King Saleh asked his judge, Arbusto, to read the letter, which stated that the king of Genoa had made a vow when his daughter, Maria, was sick. He had promised God that if He healed his daughter he would send her on a pilgrimage to Holy Jerusalem. Now his daughter was well again, and the monarch wished to fulfill his vow. He begged permission for Maria’s pilgrimage, and asked King Saleh to ensure her safety by assigning loyal and courageous soldiers to protect her. The king of Genoa would pay the guards five thousand dinars.

The customs of protection were under the jurisdiction of the chief of forts and battlements, Ma rouf ben Jamr, and so King Saleh commanded Prince Baybars to carry a letter asking the chief of forts to assume responsibility for the princess’s protection.

Prince Baybars traveled to the Fort of Marqab and was greeted effusively by Ma rouf. After Ma rouf read the letter, he kissed it and touched his forehead. “For you, my loyal friend, and for the sultan, I will protect the princess myself. I do not require payment. Distribute the money among the needy, among the widows and orphans.”

Ma rouf waited for five days in Jaffa before the Genovese ship dropped anchor in port. The princess and her companions disembarked and set up camp. Ma rouf paid the princess a visit. When Maria saw her protector enter, she stood up and greeted him. His demeanor and grace impressed her eyes, and love tumbled into her heart. Maria asked, “Are you my escort, dear sir?” and he answered in the affirmative. She bade him sit and join her. She asked her attendants to serve her guest. The following day, Ma rouf led the convoy to the Holy City. The princess rode on a litter borne by slaves, and the chief of forts and his men surrounded it on all sides. The princess entered the city with Ma rouf. She visited the holy sites of Jerusalem, distributed alms to the poor, admired the wonders. The Mosque of al-Aqsa astonished her. She asked Ma rouf if she could enter, and he replied that she could if she went in with him, unaccompanied by her servants and attendants. Maria and Ma rouf marveled at the Aqsa’s architecture. As she wandered inside the mosque, she saw a wise imam reading to young students. Maria asked Ma rouf, “Would this exalted teacher be able to interpret a dream?” and Ma rouf asked the imam, who said, “Tell me your dreams, young maiden, and God will guide my interpretation.”

And Maria began, “In a desolate valley, I thirsted. I walked until I reached a river whose water was as white as milk and as sweet as honey. I cupped my hand and took a sip that quenched the heat of my thirst and cooled the aching fire in my heart. A black fly fell out of my lips onto the ground. A white fly entered my mouth and settled in my throat. Upon the river sailed a boat, and I rode it until I reached new land, another valley, which was verdant, filled with springs and brooks, resplendent with songbirds and fruit trees. I slept under a willow, and a white bird pecked my head, from which escaped a small bird that I loved very much. A black bird attacked the small bird and carried it away. I wept for my kidnapped little bird and woke up.”

And the wise imam said, “The desolate valley is where you came from, and God guided you to the verdant valley that is Islam. The black fly was the darkness, and the white fly that nestled in your throat is the Shahada, the Muslim profession of faith — I witness that there is no god but God, and that Muhammad is the Prophet of God. The boat is the vessel of life. The white bird is the honorable man who will marry you and love you. Your joining shall produce a viable seed that will flower away from you. God has shown you the way. Surrender to His will.”

“I will become a Muslim,” Maria said, and she uttered the Shahada in faith. She kissed the imam’s hand, and he blessed her. She told the imam, “I cannot return to Genoa as a Muslim. I must marry a valiant man of faith to protect and defend me in my new life.” The imam asked her to bring him the man of her choice, and he would marry them. “The man of my choice is here,” Maria said. “There is no one more worthy.” Ma rouf’s heart blinked and fluttered.

“And what would be her dowry?” asked the imam.

“I will offer ten thousand dinars,” answered Ma rouf, “on my honor, upon my return to the Fort of Marqab.”

“So be it.” The imam married the ardent couple, signed the documents. He wrote a fatwa stating that the girl had surrendered to the faith and married of her own choice. “God be with you, my daughter. Wrap your shawl about you. Do not exit as you entered.”

Boarding hadn’t been announced yet. From a phone booth, I called Fatima to shock her. I was in Rome — Da Vinci Airport in Fiumicino, to be precise — and I wasn’t going to see her. I was flying to Beirut, surprising everyone. “Why is your stupid sister marrying that idiot?” she spoke loudly into the phone. “She won’t talk to me. She’s avoiding everybody. It doesn’t make sense.”

“They’re in love,” I said lamely.

“Don’t be stupid. That bastard doesn’t know what the word means, and Lina is just being brainless. He’ll ruin her life. Your mother wants her to get an abortion. Your sister won’t listen. She wants his child and doesn’t want to raise a bastard. She’s nuts.”