Ibrahim al-Koni - The Scarecrow

He reached the leather figure positioned near the north brook. He crawled up this specter’s frame and glided into its coarse fabric the way a snake glides into its den. He entered the veil to replace the veil. He fled from the scarecrow to take refuge in the scarecrow. He fled from the real scarecrow to shelter in the leather scarecrow erected in the fields. He liberated himself from a scarecrow that inhabited him — a scarecrow hostile to him — to settle as a guest in the belly of another scarecrow.

He freed himself the way a snake does when it sloughs off its skin. He did not merely liberate himself; he was reborn in a new body.

From this body, which was enveloped in the gloom, a mysterious hiss rattled.

2

The chief vassal said, “Famished people are grumbling, master.”

They were strolling in the courtyard of the glorious fortress. The sun was kneeling to the west, and the eastern wall was bathed by twilight’s rays. The vanquished forces of the mirage, however, resisted desperately before they shot off into seclusion — leaving behind robust trails — and then climbed the neighboring walls.

The leader clasped his hands behind his back before asking, “Is a sovereign even sovereign over a public catastrophe? What strategy can a commander adopt against a problem that he had no role in creating?”

Anxiety settled into Abanaban’s eyes. His trembling hand reached out to adjust his veil around his cheeks. Straightening a veil is always a subterfuge to conceal nervousness or mask emotion. After a long silence he ventured, “I don’t feel able to offer any advice today; but, master, I do wish to save anything I can. This is what drives me to bare my heart to my master and to discuss the custom that obliges a ruler to feed his subjects.”

“I know. I know the Law holds a ruler responsible for the welfare of his subjects. I know, too, that we can’t buy their obedience with anything but food. I know, finally, that the sovereign loses his title to sovereignty if he fails to provide these two things: security and bread!”

Upset, he paused and stared at a corner of the wall. He continued with a different refrain: “But don’t forget that this is the Law of Peace — not the Law of War. Wartime dictates a different Law. Otherwise war wouldn’t be called war, and nations wouldn’t tremble in fright at the mere mention of the word.”

“I haven’t cast doubt on my master’s wisdom nor have I questioned his knowledge of the Law of Governors. I simply wanted to draw my master’s attention to the danger of civil unrest, because spies have reported that the stink of anarchy is in the air!”

“Everyone knows that prosperity in the oasis depends on it welcoming merchant caravans. Everyone knows as well that the war has frightened away the caravans, which have changed their routes, depriving us of both their goods and the taxes on these goods. So where can I obtain food for the hungry?”

Twilight’s rays, which had been bathing the eastern ramparts, retired, and the mirage’s tongues, which had been climbing those walls, scattered. The chief vassal said in a disturbing tone, “The day before yesterday they harvested the last edible palm core from the top of the last surviving palm tree in the fields!”

“The last palm?”

“And yesterday a patrol found a pile of human bones buried in a pit near the eastern wall.”

“What do you mean?”

Abanaban was silent for a time. When he replied, his voice sounded even stranger: “I’m trying to say that a man who preys on his brother’s flesh is not to be trusted.”

The leader appeared deflated but did not turn toward his companion. Instead, he continued to stare at a patch of dirt veiled by the evening’s shadows. As if finding himself among people for the first time, he observed, “I wouldn’t have thought man would ever be capable of doing that.”

“Hunger, master, ravishes the mind, and once the mind is lost, so is the man.”

“In the desert, people bury themselves in their tents during famines and don’t leave them till they’re dead.”

“The desert has different laws.”

“In the desert, they combat hunger by hunting wild animals. Then if a man is lucky and returns with game, he sends half to the leader and divides the rest with his entire hamlet!”

“Different laws apply in the desert, master.

“In the oasis they grumble and challenge authority, wanting to grab bread from the leader’s hand.”

“This is the law of the oasis, master.”

“If they were a community that acknowledged a good deed, that would be easy — or have you forgotten how the nobles disavowed me the day the council met?”

“No good deed goes unpunished, master — that’s human nature.”

“From day one, I helped the downtrodden among them. I removed the tax burden from the shoulders of poor people, craftsmen, and farmers. I allowed their merchants to trade with gold. So life was revived, our standard of living was good, and everyone was happy.”

“Denial of a favor is a human characteristic, master.”

“During a calamity, all I see in their eyes is a thirst for vengeance. What right have I to pardon these wretches’ mistreatment of me and give them bread, thus decreasing my own nourishment?”

“They claim our master foresaw this crisis, purchased all the wheat in the markets of the oasis, and then buried it secretly underground, the way sorcerers do.”

“I will give them all my stockpiles of wheat if you promise that this gift will buy me their fealty for a single day.”

“I won’t ever do that, master, because I know that man will never pardon a good deed.”

“Never pardon a good deed?”

“Yes, master. Man can forgive a bad deed but never a good one!”

He paused and turned his whole body to face his companion. Gazing into his master’s eyes with astonishment, the chief vassal saw he was trembling.

He stammered, “What a harsh prophecy!”

His eyes glinted with a haughty flash, and he added with profound submission, “A harsh prophecy is the noblest kind.”

3

This prophecy confirmed his hunch and inspired his journey to the veil.

This prophecy completed the inspiration that had caused him to despair during the first days of the disaster.

This prophecy finished fashioning the indistinct whisper, adding form and substance to it.

Now he could continue with his project.

Now he could shed his doubts and approach the Spirit World by realizing his intentions.

Only now did he know for certain that people who consider a good deed an unforgivable offense deserve no mercy. He had hesitated for a long time before offering the monumental sacrifice that the Spirit World had imposed on him as a condition for saving him from every mighty trap, but this noble conduct had not raised him to the ranks of the virtuous. Instead, he had dropped to the level of fools.

Now, after achieving this certainty, he could discard his scruples and venge himself on a community that had repaid his ancient benefaction with nothing but a ruse. He would take revenge, because he himself — like any human being — had never been anything more than the sacrificial victim of an act of vengeance. Yes, from the very beginning man has always been a miserable sacrificial victim offered to compensate for some previous vengeful act; he has therefore been forced to seek revenge as well. He must take his revenge quickly if he wishes to avoid becoming the victim of another vengeful deed and being forced again out of a lair by stings.

4

“Anyone who offers me his allegiance, come hell or high water, receives my guarantee that he will not feel hunger again or suffer from fear.”

The herald set off early in the morning with this announcement, and people flocked into the streets. Residents raced through the alleys — men and women, graybeards and youngsters — to climb the hill. Then they besieged the glorious fortress just as foreign tribes were besieging the walls of the oasis.