Ibrahim al-Koni - Seven Veils of Seth

Fragments of skulls crumble away gradually to form part of the dirt of the road, walls collapse, sinking to the level of the ground from which they rose, and the bits of pottery will fritter away to return eventually to clay, so that nothing remains on the earth save earth. How then can the arrogant creature doubt that he is no more than one of the earth’s vulnerable sprouts that cause havoc on the earth?

Nevertheless, he had always admired this creature, simply because man had the courage to thrust his head toward the stars while hiding out among the grains of dirt. His humblest utensils in this world provide his elegy, but despite that fact, he feels arrogant, never losing his certainty that the trip will eventually lead him to occupy the throne of heaven. What is most amazing, however, is not man’s preoccupation with the celestial but his tenacious adherence to the worldly, the way he clings to the lowlands and surrenders to the earth, from which he should flee, instead of relying on it, since he understands that one day he will become a morsel in the earth’s belly. Man betrayed the prophetic advice of his ancestors, who adopted the law of migration, believing that sedentary people are the only dead ones, since they alone possess bodies that arouse the earth’s greed. Nomadic people, who never stay anywhere or settle down on the earth, own nothing to provoke the earth or arouse its greed. They possess nothing: no gear, no walls, no bodies, not even dreams. All they possess is their voyage, nothing more. They possess a single riddle, over which the earth holds no sway and for which the lowlands can offer no explanation. This is deliverance.

Was he acting rashly now — fettered by the weight of an amulet (known as deliverance) that generations had fastened to his neck — when he descended to the lowly arena to remind people of a commandment?

From the north came a breeze moistened by the breath of a distant rain. He inhaled this with thirsty lungs and then exhaled it in a hissing puff.

Before he passed by the mud-brick buildings on the way to the market square, an impudent creature jumped from behind a ruined wall to obstruct his way. At first he did not recognize the fellow, but his expression softened once he identified the fool in his coarse rags. He decided to tease him: “Is this your house to which you once came to invite me?”

He answered tersely, “This isn’t my house.” He was silent for a moment and then added, “That day I invited you to another house.”

“A house for strangers?”

“No, a house for the elite.”

“The elite?”

Letting his fist fall on his chest, he explained, “Here! In my heart!”

“I asked you about your house in the physical world, not a house in the land of Longing.”

“I possess no other house.”

“But a man must have some refuge unless he continually moves and sets course for the horizons.”

“The only refuge a man can rely on is the heart.”

They walked side-by-side on their way toward the market square and proceeded along a narrow alley lined on either side by houses. In the distance they heard the hurly-burly of the jostling throngs in the market. He continued needling the fool, “Where would you take me then, if I decided to accept your invitation?”

“To my heart. Is there a residence in this world more secure than the heart?”

“Let’s skip this tale of the heart.”

“That day I wanted to introduce you to my heart, but you were arrogant. I came to you that day as a messenger for everyone’s hearts, but you put on airs for some secret reason that will not remain hidden for too long.”

“Ha, ha. . here you are talking about unseen mysteries, claiming a diviner’s role too.”

“Who in the desert is not a diviner?”

“But don’t you think the best topic of conversation for two men is women?”

Edahi glanced at him anxiously before asking, “Did you say ‘women’?”

He winked slyly and replied, “That covey of she-jinnis. I was told in the oasis that there are six gorgeous she-jinnis, who resemble each other like so many barleycorns and who sing even more beautifully than the birds.”

“I think you must be talking about the water nymphs.”

“Water nymphs?”

“Haven’t you heard the story of the water nymphs who were responsible for founding the oasis, once upon a time?”

“I think I’ve heard something along these lines. But I haven’t heard of a definite link between the she-jinnis of the oasis and the water nymphs.”

“Those six maidens are descendants of the water nymphs.”

He stopped his companion, hoping he would say more, but they had reached the market’s outskirts, where a short, stout man in frayed garments approached them, introducing himself as Amghar. He described himself as the chief merchant.

Accompanied by the two other men, he entered the crowd and was distracted by watching people buying, selling, pitching their wares, and shilling. Some forgot the item they had come to the market to buy and spent their money on another product they had not even considered buying, only to feel the pangs of remorse later. Others were busy haggling, speculating, and bargaining. They would sell, because they had come expressly to sell, because the law of commerce is for the merchant to sell. Even if a seller discovers he has lost money, he will not be discouraged, since he knows he will make up with a deal the next day the amount he lost the day before. He also realizes that he will ruin the game and violate the customary law of trade if he ever hesitates and declines to sell for fear of taking a loss, since cowardice is the one offense commerce does not excuse, because buying and selling are even more important than making a profit. The game’s most important aspect is motion — whether it is winning and losing or charging and retreating — because motion, because winning and losing, because charging and retreating are not simply a set of rules for the game of trade but a legal code for the puppet that is the entire world. For this reason, commerce has always been the mate of its bedfellow, the material world; neither ever lives far from the other.

The head merchant, who might almost have been reading his mind, observed, “Commerce is the secret heart of our world. Had trade not been invented, the physical world could not have come into existence.”

“Trade is my archenemy.”

The other man inquired in a disapproving tone, “What did you say?”

“Trade is the archenemy of all wild refuges. Commerce is the enemy of deliverance, and any enemy of deliverance is my enemy.”

“I don’t understand what kind of deliverance you’re discussing. What I know is that the existence of this oasis is pawn to the spirit people call exchange, barter, or trade.”

He offered a chilly rebuttal, “It truly is a spirit, but an evil one. It truly is an enchantress, but one that braids her tresses into fetters for us.”

“I’ve never heard a man anywhere use such language about the queen of the world.”

The strategist, however, wanted to end this debate. So he asked, as he turned around, “Where’s the fool?”

“Never mind him. The fool appears suddenly and disappears suddenly.”

He paused by a herbalist who was touting a rag full of herbs and calling out his wares as loudly as possible: “Aphrodisiac! Aphrodisiac! Erectile dysfunction cured with herbal remedy: Ezer. It will make your sex drive sizzle.”

He casually asked the herbalist the price and then ignored the response to turn to tell his companion, “Do you know? What I love best out of all your commerce is your fool.” The head merchant stared at him in astonishment. So he repeated, “Indeed, what I love most in this world of yours is that fool of yours. Ha, ha. . ”