Ibrahim al-Koni - New Waw, Saharan Oasis

The diviner smiled and then remarked with a diviner’s cunning: “The Law never went beyond sons. The Law left the sages’ hands free to choose the successor if the leader lacked sons. In the opinion of other tribes, Anhi washed its hands of the entire affair if the leader lacked a sister’s son. Then councils chose a person from outside the leader’s family, even if he had sons. With regard to the diviner, all the laws have established that his place is beside the leader, not as the leader. This has been true since the earliest times. Why would our master Emmamma attempt to evade this practice and recite maxims to us from the Lost Book, ones that we have never read or heard of before today?” 8

The elderly man swayed right and left and stared dejectedly at the diviner, but his was a look that spoke more of the impetuousness of his inner boy than of old age’s fatigue. He asked, “Haven’t you heard that the Book said, ‘The wisest of the wise,’ or has my hearing betrayed me once again? Do you retain such a good opinion of Emmamma, who long ago succumbed to dementia and whose primary homeland years ago became forgetfulness, that you would have him assume charge of the tribe and of you?”

Imaswan replied, “A sage whose homeland has become forgetfulness is easier to bear than idiots who boast about being intellectuals and who — if time should frown and danger lurk — threaten our lives and those of the tribe with their minds.”

The hero Ahallum interjected, “Our only option is to allow the Spirit World to guide us by casting lots.”

But Emmamma gruffly rebutted him, “No, let’s seek the advice of the commander.”

More than one voice asked, “The commander?”

Emmamma, who was preparing to return to his homeland, said, “The leader! We must seek the leader’s advice.”

Glancing at one another, they embraced this idea joyfully and said, “You’re right. You’re right. Why didn’t we think of the leader at the outset?”

4

In the tent, the women sat in a circle around the virgin. They washed her virginal body with precious cologne and rubbed her with salves prepared from retem blossoms. They combed her hair into splendid plaits. Then the older women trilled jubilantly, announcing the good news that she was to become the leader’s bride.

They brought her out of the tent at dusk but only reached the hill crowned by the tomb shortly before the sun disappeared. The older women escorted her with their ululations and sad ballads. On the way, the poetess sang verses about yearning, death, and marriage. Her companions repeated the heartrending refrains after her, and then ecstasy seized hold of the young men, who trembled, wept, and leapt out of their dwellings to follow this noble cortege, without daring to draw a single step closer. The procession crossed the level, open space spread with depressing gray stones that had witnessed the fires of their ancient forefathers, because these were piles of more ancient gravestones. Their ancestors had stacked these stones when they cremated their dead. Time, however, had scattered these stones, and the centuries had leveled them with the ground. Then the wind had turned them to their original course, lining them up across the space and arranging them in the wasteland, in the Hammada, which was well endowed with rocks, returning them to their original condition. Save for their color, save for their mysterious darkness, save for the coat of ash cloaking these stones, no one would have realized that this area was the exact location of an awe-inspiring cemetery of the ancients.

When the procession neared the tomb, the women’s steps slowed, because the original rites that prescribed the path of the bride to her fiancé’s dwelling also prescribed the law for her progress there and decreed that the female should model her departure from her home on the first time a female had set forth resolutely and been spirited away from her father’s dwelling to her fiancé’s abode. In this way, hesitation became the norm for the bride’s procession. The female took one step toward her destiny and one step back out of fear and wariness. She ventured forward, because she knew that it was inevitable that she would set forth one day. She proceeded slowly, dawdled, and felt regretful, because she knew she would never go back. Then she asked the group to assist her with poetry’s treasures and to help her in her crisis with sad songs appealing to the fiancé to be kind to his bride. These were songs that encouraged the groom to view his bride as a pitiable creature kidnapped against her wishes from her family’s home and that encouraged the bride to play the earth for her spouse, who would represent the sky for her.

The cortege reached the tomb’s perimeter, and the council of wise elders sent a messenger to represent them and negotiate with the women. These discussions began in veiled language as the women chanted many demands on behalf of the virgin. Then the envoy would rush back to the council with these before returning to the cortege, saying each time that the groom’s spokesmen had pledged to fulfill these demands and that they would even build for the virgin, should she want it, a house located between the earth and the sky.

The women gained courage from this and took a step closer to the tomb and then more steps. Finally the women knelt and wept grievously before they handed over their treasure, placing the bride’s hand in the diviner’s.

5

The wedding ceremonies ended.

The prophetic rituals commenced.

The crowd dispersed, and the noble elders went their separate ways. Inside the tent that had been erected over the tomb, the diviner sat mumbling secret talismans while clutching the beauty’s wrist. He began his instructions in a mysterious voice. “Every woman will find herself wailing in a corner one day while a man holds her wrist. The beauty is luckier than all the other girls because she has been chosen to enter the leader’s eternal home.”

The young woman’s wail grew louder. She muttered softly, “But I’m afraid.”

“A young woman has a right to be afraid on entering the house of a man who holds her wrist, because man is the spouse of pain. But what right does the beauty have to be afraid when she sleeps beside a man who has dozed off eternally?”

The girl’s wail died away, and her virginal breathing became more regular. In a voice like the wind whispering in the retem groves, she murmured, “I’m afraid of the dark. I’m afraid of being alone. I’m afraid … of the tomb!”

“Solitude is a necessary precondition for prophecy, my daughter. Don’t forget that you will bring a prophecy back to the tribe tomorrow.”

She sighed deeply, as if relieved of a burden, but her wrist continued to tremble in the diviner’s hand.

The diviner returned to his instructions. “You will lie down soon and rest your head on the stone of the sanctuary. Have no fear, because I’ll be near you. Know that there is no reason for you to fear loneliness or solitude or the Spirit World in a place the diviner frequents. I will be near you, because I am a diviner, and the diviner is destined not to sleep. You will feel drowsy. When you sleep, you will hear a commotion. Don’t be afraid then. After the commotion, the bee will come. You will hear the bee buzzing, but don’t be afraid. Once this buzzing ceases, our master will arrive immediately. He will come to speak. Listen very carefully to what he says. Listen and remember every word. His remarks may seem strange or cryptic to you or even laughable, but beware: Don’t forget or disdain what he says. Don’t forget what is said. Don’t underrate an expression that may seem devoid of meaning, because words you think lack meaning may be more important than those you find meaningful. So beware!”