A Muslim Suicide

7

300 7 I spent the entire voyage tossing and turning, half awake and half asleep; night or day, calm or stormy seas, noisy passengers or complete silence—none of it made any difference. In my mind images and visions were all clashing against one another; all that remained were pictures of my beloved wife and close friends, chief among whom was Al-Shushtari, Imam of the Absolutists. I have no idea how long the voyage lasted, but at one point the captain came over to tell me that we were reaching port. He also informed me that pirates had stopped the vessel and stolen most of the animals and property on board, my horse and belongings among them. When I looked surprised and alarmed, he made me realize that, like all the other passengers, I should praise God for saving me from a gruesome end and almost certain enslavement. I clutched at my money-belt and was delighted to find that it was still there. With that I disembarked . The angry and fearful expressions on the faces of the other passengers confirmed the captain’s story. I was left to wonder at my own amazing ability to distract myself and disappear into other worlds. I made my way on foot to the closest hotel in the city. As I approached the entrance, two men came up to me and asked me to accompany them to the house of Al-A‘ma from Sicily. I had no choice but to go with them, particularly since I was eager to get some up-to-date news on events to the west. After a short walk I found myself facing my host, who was looking glum as he offered me a phony welcome. I sat down with him at a table full of eats and drinks and opened the conversation by asking him about Sabta, Ibn Khalas, and my family. “Saint of God,” he replied with a frown as he urged me to eat something, “things in Sabta are really bad. After we both left, there was a severe famine that killed off lots of humans and cattle. It had been preceded by a prolonged drought A Muslim Suicide | 301 that had already led to a number of disturbances and two deaths. The news about Ibn Khalas is equally bad. He found himself beset by a number of intrigues masterminded by Abu al-Qasim al-‘Azmi, all with the encouragement of Amir alMurtada , ‘Ali al-Sa‘id’s successor. The famine deprived him of all authority over the city, so he fled along with his family. God knows best, but people said that they had no idea where he went. In my opinion he probably took a boat here so he could seek the protection of the great [Hafsid] sultan Abu Zakariyya.” I interrupted his account to ask about my own family. His expression changed, and he looked a bit happier. “Master,” he went on, “your wife’s fine. She’s staying with her family in Tangier . Her only wish is to see your beloved visage once again. But you’ll not be able to go back home until you have completed the pilgrimage, or rather until the rage of the new governor of Sabta has abated somewhat and the tribulations of Ibn Khalas’s supporters come to an end. Both you and I are considered as being among the major escapees. So, Ibn Sab‘in, be very, very careful! It would be absolutely fatal for you to consider returning to the Maghrib until the collapsing dynasty of the Almohads comes to its final end!” From my facial expression it was not hard for him to deduce that I was both anxious and perplexed. “For the next three days or so,” he said, “you should stay here and not go out. After the tiring voyage you have just had, you can relax and get some rest. If you wish, you can go to the quarter’s mosque, but only if you agree not to talk to the worshippers, give any lessons, or start any debates. The jurist al-Sukuni has his eyes firmly fixed on both you and me. If you do anything contrary to what I’ve just told you, I’m the one who’ll be punished for it. Ever since I arrived in Tunis, this jurist has made it clear to me that a condition for his facilitating an audience with the sultan for me is that you should leave...