A Muslim Suicide

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37 6 Salman! Salman was by origin a Visigoth, but he converted to Islam and learned Arabic . He married a Muslim woman, then lost her, leaving him childless. Thereafter he chose a life of asceticism and self-denial and entered my own service. He was a devout and charitable person, someone who kept me in touch with the poor and indigent population. He would tell me about their situation and choose the neediest among them to receive my help, going to enormous lengths to ensure that such help indeed reached them. Apart from times when he was either asleep or praying, you would see him going about his daily chores, whether routine or urgent. He used to focus his entire attention on such things, to such an extent that he gave the impression of trying to avoid thinking about those major issues that, as he could see for himself, were keeping me fully preoccupied. Another of his qualities consisted in his uncanny ability to make himself scarce whenever I chose to spend some time studying in seclusion. Whenever he came back after fetching what I needed from the city, you would see him making every effort to ensure that I would not be disturbed, only talking to me when I asked him for something or else when something else happened that made it impossible to remain silent. Salman! Tall and skinny, he looked just like a sprite residing in the walls. “A group of students came to see you, Sir,” he would say in his gruff voice. “They were asking after your health and sending you their greetings. I responded on your behalf and sent them away. I’ve heated the water for the ritual washing, and lunch is ready.” “God reward you! Bring me the water and a bowl. If the students come back tomorrow, let them in.” 38 | Bensalem Himmich “Tomorrow, not before?” “Yes, tomorrow. After lunch, get my horse ready.” I made my way through the city’s alleyways and squares on foot, leading my horse behind me. The expressions on the faces of those Muslims who were fully aware of the current situation looked more and more gloomy and depressed; it was almost as though some kind of mourning process, one with no limit or end, were weighing them all down. It was the Muslim defeat at the Battle of al-‘Iqab that had started it all, and the loss of Cordoba and Valencia had only made things that much worse. The Almohads* were weak and at odds with each other, and each year brought still more disasters and calamities. In the alleys and streets people would make their way to taverns, mosques, or houses in quest of refuge. They were in a permanent state of panic, dizzy with fear, as though perched on the edge of a precipice and faced with the prospect of inevitable destruction. In order to plan for the worst and find some sort of relief, a number of stratagems had been developed, including regular indulgence in pleasures, both public and private, hoarding goods and being niggardly about sharing them, and lastly devotion to a life of seclusion and prayer. Once I had traversed the inhabited parts of the city and reached the desert area that extended all the way to the mountains of the west, I prepared to mount my horse. Just then a group of young men came up and surrounded me. Some of them I already knew, including ‘Abd al-‘Ali and al-Sadiq. They greeted me with considerable emotion, and I returned their greeting, making it obvious at the same time how surprised I was that they had suddenly appeared. I invited them all to sit down with me by an aging oak tree. I asked them what was on their minds. It was the eldest among them, al-Sadiq al-Shatibi, who spoke up. “This morning, Sir, we all came to your house,” he said. “Salman sent us away. If the situation weren’t so bad, we would not have come without an appointment.” “I am aware of it, al-Sadiq. Get to the point.” “Yesterday we were in the mosque, reading books that you had recommended that we study carefully. A jurist named ‘Abd al-Qadir al-Qabri invited someone we know well to join his circle of students. No sooner had a group gathered around him than he pronounced the bismillah* and hawqala*; then he started ranting and raving, claiming that philosophers and mystics were...