Surprised, I said, “But you were one of God’s holy men.”
“In order to understand my experience, imagine that you suddenly lost your memory and became a new person.”
“I thought that a person changes gradually.”
“Not me. I change from one extreme to another, suddenly!”
I offered an explanation. “Many things can, undoubtedly, happen in the obscure regions of your subconscious.”
He had his own explanation. “Man invents logic, but surpasses it in his life. Nature, my dear man, makes use of impetuosity as well as evolution!”
“Go on. Let me hear what you have to say, Jaafar.”
He continued: “One day, my grandfather invited me to sit with him, then inquired about my studies. I understood immediately that he had asked me to join him for another reason, since my teachers were informing him about my exceptional progress. I reassured him about my earnestness and my aim to always please him. ‘But the road is long and full of hardships,’ he said. I replied with affected enthusiasm, ‘A believer is not deterred by the road ahead.’
“‘Fine words, but good deeds are more important than fine words.’
“‘This is true.’
“He hesitated for a few seconds then said, ‘There are things that call for some consideration. I had a dream, and when I woke I made up my mind to do something about it.’
“‘What is that dream, Grandfather?’ I asked.
“‘It is of no importance, and dreams are easily forgotten, but what counts is the decision I made.’
“I asked if it concerned me. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘and you will be happy with it. I decided to marry you to an honorable girl.’
“I was shocked and dumbfounded. I told myself that the man knew everything. How had I ever thought that an unusual evening stroll by al-Rawi’s grandson wouldn’t attract attention and provoke comments? Many would volunteer to inform my grandfather. He definitely knew everything and was trying to salvage what he could.
“‘Anything wrong, my son?’ he asked.
“‘The idea had not crossed my mind,’ I replied.
“‘Think about it then.’ And he added, ‘A number of young men do not marry, for reasons beyond their control, but God has given you the means to marry. So what is the point of delaying what is considered half your religious duty?’
“‘Give me time to think about the matter.’
“‘I will choose an exceptional bride and will let you decide.’
“I went back to my room in a state of extreme anger, unable to sleep. I heard the dawn call to prayer and felt a surge of enormous energy, with a strong desire to attack the walls and destroy them. The giant inside me was released and eager for confrontation, determined to get his girl at the expense of the whole neighborhood, not just the palace. I invoked my mother and my father, and my anger against my grandfather was limitless as I considered his continual tendency to control and repress others. In my state of perplexity, as conflicting thoughts fought for control, a dialogue began between me and my grandfather. I can’t be sure whether it was in a dream, a delusional condition of the night, or a state between sleep and awakening. I said to him, ‘Grandfather, I refuse.’
“‘You turn down my generosity?’
“‘I am against repression.’
“‘Even coming from me?’
“‘Even from you.’
“‘You are ungrateful. You turn down beauty and purity in exchange for what?’
“‘Freedom!’
“‘The shepherdess,’ he said.
“‘I follow the call of blood, the life of a vagabond, and fresh air.’
“‘It is rather the madness that leads the crazy individuals out of my old house.’
“‘True felicity is in a state of madness,’ I told him.
“‘You are your parents’ child.’
“‘I will take pride in that forever.’
“‘Part of you wants to take revenge on me.’
“‘I do not want to think, so let me act.’
“‘What about your clothing, the gibba and the quftan?’
“‘I will get rid of them immediately.’
“‘You are reneging, then!’
“‘I do not want religion to be a profession.’
“‘What do you want to do then?’
“‘I want to practice love, madness, and murder!’
“I believe that through this dialogue I clearly expressed my feelings. When I shared my secrets with Muhammad Shakroun, he was shocked, and could not believe his ears. When he understood that I was serious, he asked me, ‘Do you truly turn down your grandfather’s offer for Marwana’s sake?’
“I replied affirmatively. But he went on, ‘Would you leave the house for the sake of a shepherdess?’
“‘I would.’
“He asked again, ‘What does this all mean?’
“I told him, ‘Consider me crazy if you want.’
“He was concerned: ‘Don’t you fear that he’ll deprive you of your inheritance and you’ll end up a pauper?’
“‘It’s possible,’ I said.
“‘No woman deserves such a huge sacrifice,’ said Shakroun. I took his words lightly, making fun of them. ‘I do not understand you,’ he said.
“‘There is nothing to understand,’ I said. ‘It is reality.’
“‘How do you explain it? Is there a secret?’
“‘It is a splendid madness, and I am mesmerized by it.’
“He advised me to be patient, in hopes of finding a compromise, but I objected, saying that I disliked compromise. He offered another solution: ‘You can remain in your grandfather’s care. Pursue your education and experience your mad love.’
“‘No. No. These are very contradictory matters and I have made my choice.’
“‘What have you chosen?’
“I informed him of my decision to leave my grandfather’s house as well as al-Azhar. He said it was not necessary, so I explained my position. ‘It is imperative. I will lead a new life. Otherwise, I will be expelled from both places.’ Shakroun was convinced I had been hit by the evil eye, so I explained further: ‘Only a divine person can live in my grandfather’s house. As for al-Azhar, I never wanted to turn it into a profession. Faith does not require all these complications.’
“Saddened, Shakroun commented, ‘I wish you were abandoning all that for something better.’
“I told him, ‘Adventure is much better, and so is madness.’ He said he would never understand me, and I said, sarcastically, ‘Despite your follies, Shakroun, you have not known madness yet.’
“He asked, ‘Does that mean that you are abandoning your past because of love?’
“‘It is because of love that I have known madness in adventure!’
“Muhammad Shakroun finally gave in to reality. I sensed that he truly believed the tragedy did not lack real madness. He felt obligated to promise to help me determine Marwana’s and her mother’s inclination, saying that a lover needed support from a singer. His investigations confirmed for him that a person like Marwana would rather be killed than accept an illegitimate relationship. He asked me, annoyed, ‘What about your future? Even free adventurers need to eat.’
“Strangely, I had not given the matter the attention it deserved. For a moment I considered teaching Arabic and religion in a public school, but soon abandoned the idea. It clashed with the magical nature of my adventure. I replaced it with another idea—forming a singing group to interpret tawashih praising the Prophet. Shakroun gave me an honest assessment of my chances in that field.
“‘A long time would pass before you could hold such an evening, and your success is not guaranteed and requires hard work. The traditional way is to begin as a member in a group—something that does not suit you.’
“I thought about the matter and said, ‘I prefer to work in your band.’
“‘My band!’ he said, surprised.
“‘Why not? My voice is better than any of yo
ur support singers.’
“He said, ‘I owe you a lot, but …’
“I did not give him a chance to finish his sentence. ‘No buts, please. You entertain at parties at least one-third of the month, and are becoming better known every day.’
“Muhammad Shakroun fell silent, which encouraged me to tell him with great enthusiasm, ‘My desire to form a religious band will not wane. I will do it at the same time.’
“‘This is important,’ said Shakroun. ‘And you can count on my friendship with the agents of the religious ceremonies. I can’t believe what we are planning; it is like living a dream. But I still say that it would be possible to deal with the matter in a different way.’
“‘I will not go back even one step,’ I insisted. ‘I will have two outfits: a costume for your ceremonies and the gibba and the quftan for the religious band. Isn’t this amazing!’”
Jaafar looked at me in the quiet of the night and asked, “How much do you believe me?”
“I am old enough to believe anything,” I said.
“I want a stronger commitment,” he said. “Many are those who did not believe me, which both hurt and gratified me. I was hurt because innovative work requires witnesses, and I was happy to see my enterprising spirit acknowledged. I demand that people recognize me as an exceptional human being. It is my right to demand that. Few are capable of abandoning the lavish life I enjoyed, as swiftly as I did.”
“Was all this for love alone?” I asked.
He replied, disapprovingly, “Isn’t love sufficient? Love is creative madness!”
“Was Marwana so beautiful?”
“What is beauty?” he wondered. “The matter is a call that activates an electric key.”
“Didn’t you also want to deprive your grandfather of his only heir?”
“I never forgot my father’s tragedy, but my decision was pure, free of any hidden or declared desire for revenge.”
I ventured a second explanation: “Was it a reaction to the severe restrictions you imposed on yourself as a divine human being?”
He objected. “I refuse this explanation as well. I told you that it was an angelic move, like a song at dawn. Love ignited the spark, and its light revealed a dream that was taking shape, ready to raze the walls of the palace. It was getting ready to live, to confront wealth and restrictions and wallow in the dust of the eternal mother, like Buddha, who left his palace one day for a reason no one around him understood. These things happen suddenly and are not the result of a process of evolution, as you seem to think. It is a practical confirmation of a sudden creativity. I will give you a live example that took place at this exact instant: I have just decided against writing the petition.”
“What do you mean?”
He explained that he was referring to the petition concerning the monthly financial support from his grandfather’s waqf.
“Is this a return to a futile court case?” I asked.
“There will be neither a case nor a petition,” he replied.
I objected, and asked him to postpone discussing this question and carry on with his story. He laughed loudly as usual, and continued to narrate his story.
“One evening Muhammad Shakroun, limping, and I behind him, approached the old Bedouin woman sitting in her tent. When she saw Shakroun, she put aside her weaving tool and stood up, fearful. He said to her, ‘My friend would like to marry your daughter according to God’s laws.’
“The woman was shocked. Marwana ran far from the tent while Muhammad Shakroun was saying, ‘We are at your service.’ When she regained control of herself, she told him, ‘We have people we need to consult.’
“They had a distant relative we had to meet. It was a strange day. We were the first two strangers to enter Eshashal-Turguman in plain daylight without being killed. Some evil eyes stared at us, mockingly inquisitive and defiant. All activities stopped for a short while: the training of the monkeys, the herding of sheep, the weighing of drugs, the polishing of stolen goods, and the beating of drums. A group of children surrounded us and greeted us, chanting,
‘Pull the turban, pull.
Under the turban is a monkey.’
“We proceeded to meet a man sitting in front of his hut, while Marwana’s mother stood beside him. We greeted the very old man, who seemed on the verge of death, and Marwana’s mother talked on his behalf. ‘He welcomes you,’ she said.
“The old man hit her on the back and said, ‘You are damned because you consent to this.’
“Muhammad Shakroun said to him, ‘My friend is from a respectable family.’
“‘Tuzz,’ said the old man after he spat. “Embarrassed, Muhammad Shakroun added, ‘He has also a job.’ “The old man interrupted him, saying, ‘We do not care about a job either!’
“‘His conduct—’ began Shakroun, only to be interrupted again by the old man, saying, ‘Neither do we care about conduct.’
“Showing a great deal of patience, Shakroun said, ‘In a few words, we would like to ask for your girl’s hand according to the laws of God and the Prophet.’
“The old man laughed, revealing a toothless mouth. ‘Good riddance, but talk about her dowry.’
“Shakroun invited him to indicate the amount out of respect for his old age. Feeling important, the old man declared, ‘I want ten pounds placed in my hand.’ He stretched his hand out as he talked, provoking an angry reaction from Marwana’s mother, but the old man frowned and said, ‘Let’s read the Fatiha.’ Joyful ululations erupted everywhere around us.
“Sensitive to my feelings, Muhammad Shakroun did not make a single comment, and I decided to inform my grandfather of the truth, like any young man who has come of age and has completed an important part of his education. I sat close to his couch in the salamlik as he held a rosary in his hand, glorifying God, and his Siamese cat purring by his side. I felt an air of expectation and apprehension settle between us, provoked by my hidden intentions and his ability to discern people’s thinking. He asked his usual question: ‘How are you doing?’
“I replied absentmindedly, ‘I am fine, thanks be to God.’
“He went on, ‘The engagement will be made public in three months, after Ramadan.’
“I decided to try my newfound strength without delay, and said, ‘Sorry, Grandfather, but I have chosen another wife.’
“‘Really?’ he said, without betraying any reaction.
“‘It is God’s will, anyhow,’ I explained.
“‘What I heard then is true?’ he said.
“When I did not reply, he added, ‘A shepherdess?’
“I said simply, ‘Yes, Grandfather.’
“His only comment was: ‘You have reached the age of reason and you know where your interest lies.’
“I asked if he would bless my choice, but he went on praising God on his rosary. I asked if this meant I had to leave the house. Without turning to me, he said, ‘Forever.’
“I immediately kissed his hand and left.
“Saying good-bye to Bahga was tearful and painful. She suggested asking my grandfather for money, but I told her that I had saved more than a hundred pounds. She cried, saying, ‘Sorrows in this house begin with marriage.’ She then whispered in my ear, ‘Believe me, your grandfather is a very unfortunate man. He rarely sleeps more than one hour at night.’
“I told her sincerely, ‘I love him and I reject him.’
“I then left the house where I had lived for fourteen chaste years.
“I moved into a new two-bedroom apartment located in al-Khurunfish with my bride. Muhammad Shakroun helped me rent it and furnish it. Marwana was stunning in her wedding dress. I saw her true skin color for the first time, after the intensive cleaning she had undergone in the special bridal bath. I can’t say that I was thrilled with the change, as I had gotten used to her metallic skin color, which was such an integral part of the image that had turned my life upside down. Nevertheless, I was strongly attracted to her, and totally enthralled by her. I felt I was a prisoner,
at the mercy of a brutal power that knew no pity or clemency. She was instinctively seductive, like a tongue of fire. She was proud and she exalted her people, enrobing them with holiness, enriching the modest environment where she grew up like a wildflower. Even her feminine shyness was like a transparent veil, and not at all a sign of innate weakness or natural indolence. I immediately became aware that I was in the company of a strong, ageless woman, a source of fascination, charm, and defiance. I surrendered to her, clearly revealing my own weakness. I acted like a hunted man, or a crazy man who had thrown his senses and his caution to the wind. My new companions nicknamed me ‘the happy man’ and ‘the weak happy man.’ I was overwhelmed with warnings and advice.
“I did not forget my new work during my honeymoon, and I approached it with great energy and some apprehension. I was moving into new surroundings and mixing with people whose serious activities in life were fun and games. They would greet me, saying, ‘Welcome to al-Rawi’s grandson.’
“That greeting followed me like my shadow everywhere I went. I heard it in al-Khurunfish, in Muhammad Shakroun’s band, and among the members of the choir that had agreed to work with me when needed. I applied myself to studying and training, quickly getting ready for the music band and the choir. Even during my honeymoon, I performed with the band to celebrate a wedding in al-Darb al-Ahmar, and I had to wear a suit and a fez for the first time in my life. When Muhammad Shakroun saw me, he said admiringly, ‘May God be praised for his creation.’
“I was nervous as I walked into the midst of the guests and onlookers. I was one of only two members of the band who relied solely on his voice, without a musical instrument in my hand. Muhammad Shakroun offered me a glass of wine. ‘A must,’ he explained, ‘if you do not want your voice to fail.’
“I became acquainted with wine and narcotics in the same week, and I sang forcefully and accurately, as I was the second-best voice in the choir. I infused new life into the band, and boosted its enthusiasm as I sang, ‘I miss you so much, you’re my life.’
“Our singing was well received. A drunk guest made an allusion to my condition and shouted, ‘A scholar can produce a dissolute man,’ provoking loud laughter among the guests. Muhammad Shakroun turned to me and whispered, ‘Laugh with them.’