Ibrahim al-Koni - The Puppet

When fear of losing prophecy became a concern that worried the ancients, they searched for another antidote to treat such people. Then they devised a bit (called an asedras ) to silence chatterboxes, even before they used it to wean kids from their mothers’ milk. They would pierce both jaws with fiery skewers the way they bored through a camel’s muzzle. Then they would deliberately insert a wood or iron bit that pressed down on the tongue, preventing it from pursuing its wicked mission. Some obstinate people felt that to restrict speech was to restrict life, but if these wretches insisted on moving that organ in their mouths, ignoring the pain this action caused, their mouthings would be inaudible or unintelligible, a ludicrous or disgusting, muffled raving.

5

As he traversed the northern alleys leading to the blacksmiths’ market, the din grew ever louder.

The din.

There are various levels of din in the oasis.

There is the din of the markets, the din of boys, the din of women on the roofs of their homes, the din of the rabble who never stop quarreling, and another eternal din that resembles the rumble of distant thunder when clouds charge in from the north. The last is a mysterious, murky din reminiscent of the Spirit World’s call, heard in the murmurs of jinn tribes in the caves of Tadrart or Tassili. 3

This mysterious din, however, dissipates when a struggle flares up. Then melodies are stifled by the screams of devotees of dispute, quarrel, and outcry.

He set off alone to hunt for the voices of the Unknown, to pray for stillness’s assistance in calling to mind eternity’s whispers, while here in the oasis the din abrogated inspiration and cast prophecy into the abysses of chaos. Here the nugatory absorbed detestable voices to annul the sign that the stratagems had devised to lead him and to assist him in a matter he had not himself chosen. For how could someone who had not been granted a share of wisdom, had not received a prophecy, and had never detected in himself any genius or special gift lead people unless he were alone and sought inspiration from tranquility? Didn’t yesterday’s leader serve as an example in this respect? Wasn’t seclusion the helpmeet of all leaders and sages? How could a ruler succeed in anything while dwelling in the heart of a constant din, night and day? Wasn’t tumult the destiny of oases and the din in them a sign distinguishing them from the desert?

On his way back from the wasteland, after the stranger had disappeared, he had almost perceived a secret truth. He had almost bagged an illumination about governance. Yet he had to acknowledge now that this enlightenment had also faded away. The people’s voices caused it to bolt like a camel that spots the jinn’s ghostly specters. Here, driven by curiosity’s fire, he was endeavoring to discover what was beyond the hill. A void, a weakness, and an insinuating whisper filled his heart.

6

Out in space the light of a nascent full moon appeared. The houses’ roofs and walls were illuminated by a disorienting, dawn-colored firebrand. The walls’ shadows, however, extended through the alleys, assuming gigantic size and hiding the faces of the youngsters who crowded into a corner overlooking the market square to watch the group of adults huddled together in a circle a few steps away. The youngsters looked stealthily at one another, contradicted each other, and argued in loud voices, as if they were mimicking the adult gathering or had caught this infection from them, echoing their clamor. He stood above them, without anyone noticing. He faked a cough, but this was drowned in the din. Then he shouted in a loud voice, “Don’t children fear that the Spirit World’s specter may smother them if they wake it with their shouting?”

The huddle fell apart and some raised bare heads split by crests of hair, which in the shadows’ gloom appeared ill-omened insignia traced on their heads by a fiery bar. Their silence seemed twice as profound since the din nearby was so loud.

One of them asked sarcastically, “To which specter does the specter refer?”

Some of them guffawed; others restrained their laughter.

He threatened, “In this desert lives a mighty specter unseen by the desert’s eye. The specter set a condition for your ancestors to obey when they came to ask his permission to dwell in the desert. The specter said that he couldn’t bear tumult and wouldn’t allow his homeland to be shared by anyone who didn’t know how to keep quiet and that he would stifle anyone who violated the law of stillness. So watch out!”

One of them craned his long neck, attempting to ascertain the man’s features, which were not merely covered by his veil but were concealed behind veils of darkness as well. Finally, astonished, he yelled, “Who are you? Our master?”

Other voices repeated after him with respect and consternation, “Our master?”

They fled silently. They retreated on tiptoe, with bare feet, keeping their faces trained toward him until they had gone a safe distance. Then they all started to run away together while the shadows of the alleys swallowed them.

In the adjoining empty space, which was flooded by the light of the nascent full moon, the din of the other group grew louder. They clustered in a circle for a time and later separated as individuals and pairs. They crowded around a body he could not make out. They cried out loudly to one another, like herdsmen castrating a prize camel or helping him mate with a she-camel.

He stopped a few feet away and pretended to cough. Then he asked, “What’s going on here?”

His question was lost in the tumult of voices. So he took a step closer before repeating it.

Some more time passed before one of the young men noticed his presence. This was a tall fellow wearing a white garment and veiled in white as well. Although he was tall, his body was rather plump, unlike that of a son of the desert.

Examining the other man in the pale light, the young man asked, “Our master?”

“Have you no shame? You’ve awakened the dead in their graves. Your din deafened me when I was walking in the wasteland.”

“It’s the jinn, master. The jinn are to blame. We found that he was hiding the forbidden metal in his pocket and wanted to bind him so we could bring him to you, but he has a jinni’s power. Don’t let his size deceive you, master. His arms are stronger than any warrior’s.”

“Is he a member of the tribe, a caravaneer, or a nomad?”

“How can we determine his community, master, when we can’t even bind his wrists? How, then, can we wrest an answer from his lips and interrogate him?”

At that moment, strong men pushed forward to assault the lean body, and their garments screened him from sight. The wretch, however, shook free of them with a heroic bound. They retreated, causing each other to lose their balance and fall backward.

Standing before the crowd, he shouted, “Let him go!”

They did not, or did not obey at once. They were silent. Some of them gazed in astonishment at him. Others separated from their prey. One of them, however, continued to hold a palm-fiber rope, the end of which was tied to a wrist of the skinny body.

He repeated, “Let him go!”

They made way for him. He stood above the head of the kneeling victim who looked up at him with obstinate, gleaming eyes. The man was panting and trembling. His veil had come loose during the struggle, revealing his mouth and part of his head. He stretched out a shaky hand to rearrange the lower part, without taking his eyes off the figure standing over his head.

He said, as he gazed into the distance, as if addressing another specter, “Come with me to a private place!”

A mixture of determination, astonishment, and anxiety showed in the lean body’s eyes, but the captive said nothing, nor did he attempt to flee.