Ibrahim al-Koni: The Scarecrow

What the nobles remembered was that Emmamma took a handful of dirt and threw it in his poor mamluk’s face as a sign of disgust. Then he drew the upper portion of his veil down over his eyes, shielding them entirely, and released a feverish gasp like his last breath, before stretching out on his back in the litter and pounding his palms on the poles as a signal to depart.

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Before the oasis witnessed the birth of a new dawn, before the full moon came out that night, and before the council meeting adjourned that day, a messenger came to the sanctuary.

He stood in the darkness at the entrance, clenching his rough fingers together and shaking like a man with a fever.

The noblemen struggled by light from the hearth’s flames to distinguish the specter’s identity, and only made out the black giant after a lengthy effort. The giant spoke with the voice of a diviner conveying a prophecy to the people: “Our master has preceded us!”

Stillness settled over the place. Stillness settled over the place and proceeded to dominate every cranny of the room, the whole temple, the oasis, the wasteland beyond, and the desert — for which no one knew the beginning and no one perceived the end.

The stillness extended further, and the sticks of firewood ceased complaining as they burned in the fire’s flame. The tongues of flame ceased their turmoil, which normally expressed their delight with the sticks of firewood. Chuckles died in the chests of the riffraff in the alleys. Women stopped whispering slanders and rumors, and children swallowed their rowdy shouts. The indecipherable murmurs vanished from the lips of babes in arms. The livestock stopped chewing their cud and listened despondently as their bodies turned into ears.

At that hour, the lords of the people heard news like a prophecy that was repeated by the tongue of the Unknown: “Our master has preceded us.”

Finally they exchanged dumbfounded looks. After some time they discovered that the specter had vanished and that darkness threatened the place. So they fed the fire more wood.

A voice ended the long silence: “This is an evil omen!”

This voice sounded to them like another prophecy. They did not know who among them had delivered this prophecy, because they had wandered far away and their fugues lasted a long time.

The unidentified voice returned to say with the tongue of the Unknown: “The disappearance of venerable elders is always a harbinger of evil!”

Without raising his eyes from the tongues of fire, the man with two veils said: “The death of the sage forces people to discern a prophecy in his disappearance. Here he is saying to us that the honorable man prefers to lie down beside his ancestors rather than mount the world’s thrones.”

Someone spoke who never spoke. Someone spoke who spoke only in times of disaster. Amasis the Younger said: “We killed him. We killed the man in whom we saw the pious ancestors reflected. We found in his face the faces of our forefathers. We have killed our pious ancestors. We have killed the Law. We killed him just as we killed Aggulli before him!”

The prophetic voice rose again to swallow every other voice in the sanctuary: “The venerable elder does not disappear into the earth without a disaster descending on it.”

They thrust their hands into the dirt to ward off misfortunes and to seek refuge in the earth from the evils of the people of the earth.

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“Our only option is to appeal for guidance to the Unknown and to place in the hand of the Spirit World what belongs to the Spirit World.”

The chief merchant detected questioning looks in his companions’ eyes. So this clever strategist was obliged to leave allusion’s corridors in order to reach their minds.

“If the scion of the wasteland cannot deal with a matter, the riddle is transferred to the offspring of the Spirit World.”

The look of inquiry remained unchanged in his comrades’ eyes. Then the scion of clever strategists was compelled to descend reluctantly to the plain of clear expression.

“Our only choice is to refer the matter to the tomb maiden.”

Ah’llum was the first to applaud. “Why didn’t we think of this before? How could we have forgotten the presence of this diviner in our community all this time?”

But Imaswan ignored this happy news and challenged his comrade in hopes of perceiving the insight hidden in the allusion. “In the Law of our forefathers we have inherited nary a maxim that asserts a link between leadership and prophecy.”

The man with two veils cast him a patronizing look and proceeded deliberately with the approach of clever strategists. He fiddled with his hands before he replied, “I see you have forgotten in a short time what we said once about the typical nature of sovereignty.”

“The typical nature of sovereignty?”

“Didn’t we agree that the jinn take possession of the master of sovereignty at the very hour he is seated on the throne of leadership? Didn’t we agree that the head of state leaves the wasteland and loses his link to the people and language of the wasteland — to become a puppet in the hands of the residents of the Spirit World the instant he receives this noble title? Didn’t our peer Aggulli serve as an example and test case for this? So how can the deity of coincidences and fortunes not rule over both of them? How can the Spirit World not be a homeland for a person who is possessed by the Spirit World, which has been an oasis for prophecy and the world’s fortunes since the desert learned about prophecies and fortunes?”

“If we place the matter in the palm of prophecy, we will have entrusted our necks to the hand of luck.”

“Prophecy is the tongue of the Spirit World, and where leadership is concerned, the Spirit World reigns.”

“Whenever I hear the word ‘luck,’ I get goose bumps all over.”

“Luck’s dominance derives from the Spirit World’s. This is the secret reason for our fear of luck’s caprices.”

“We have read in the narratives of the ancients that this ignoble being gives today with the right hand only when it is sure it will repossess its boons on the morrow with both left and right hands.”

“The messenger isn’t blamed for whatever evil lies in the message, and luck is a loyal slave of sovereignty.”

“The tribes assume this is simply one of the avatars of ignoble Wantahet. Yes, yes, you should believe that luck is Wantahet.”

“The desert’s ultimate strategist likes to bring tribes good news too.”

“But we know that glad tidings in his mouth entail a net loss. You bask in delight today and find yourself at the bottom of the abyss tomorrow.”

“We must accept the abyss if our fall into it has been willed by the Spirit World.”

“If the matter pertains to the Spirit World, all I can do is clasp my hands behind my back as a sign of submission.”

“So we finally agree.”

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Prophecy!

Inspiration sparked by a flint of the Unknown.

Prophecy!

Panacea from the spiritual lands, it treats patients who suffer from pangs of separation, longing, and the desolation of desert lands.

Prophecy!

Heaven’s tongue that yearns to speak but that communicates solely through symbols.

Prophecy!

Refuge of diviners in their struggle with the world’s vanities and the fates’ cruelties.

Prophecy!

The dream of poets and the hope of women singers during the tribe’s soirées, when the full moon rises to reign in the desert sky.

Prophecy!

The treasure of lovers who embrace despair because death has robbed them of any hope of a tryst.

Prophecy!

A dew drop on a retem blossom, a violet glow before daybreak, a gust of sea breeze bathed in the moisture of clouds from the far north.