I spent the rest of the month of Sha`ban alone in my residence. Ghaylan and Yasir did their best to make sure that my seclusion and devotion to both worship and rest were not disturbed. Truth to tell, during my time alone I was exploring entirely new and unknown terrain since I was gradually increasing the doses of some herbal substances so that I could get more and better sleep. The time I spent asleep during this particular phase and in my current mental state was filled with terrifying and totally abnormal visions. They were of such a kind, that, had I chosen during my periodic intervals of wakefulness to put on paper the kinds of things I could remember from these nightmares, I would have confirmed for sure to both politicians and jurists that I was indeed an infidel, someone who deserved to die.
With the arrival of the fasting month of Ramadan I decided to spend it in Al-Shushtari's hut. My primary goal was to rid myself of the flood of nightmarish visions I was having and also to strengthen my ties with the Maghribi folk in the Valley of Solomon's Spring. That is precisely what I did, but only after informing Yasir of my plans, leaving some of my belongings with him, and using his expertise to leave Mecca without my students and visitors being aware of it.
When I reached my destination on horseback, I was given the warmest of welcomes by the peasants. I explained my situation to them and made it clear that all I needed was seclusion and the opportunity to worship. They all expressed their condolences on the death of my wife, and in a spontaneous and sincere way that brought tears to my eyes. They all swore the most solemn of oaths in the name of God and his holy men, with Al-Shushtari in the forefront, that they would protect me and keep my secret safe, even if a tyrant or legal authority inquired after me.
Al-Shushtari's hut here was like the one he had built in Bijaya, the only difference being that I had this one to myself and did not have to share it with either a Christian or a Jewish ascetic. Within its walls I found peace and quiet. I only left it once in a while in order to take a stroll or eat breakfast and chat with my guardians. As a way of preventing the nightmarish visions from overwhelming me, I slept as little as possible, but the amount of time I stayed awake at night meant that, during the afternoons and at twilight time, I felt a powerful urge to take naps. When that happened, I used to have a number of daydreams, but, when I woke up, I could only remember snippets of two of them, although both augured ill.
In the first I saw myself sitting down with Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi, accompanied by another man who looked both wise and august. Al-Tawhidi kept leaning over and reciting prophetic traditions to me, all without attribution as was usually the case with him. He would tell me that some of them were examples of hadith qudsi,* while others were ones that the Prophet had dictated to him in dreams. I then watched as he turned to his companion. "So it's wrong, Sophocles," he said, "to follow your views and state that man desires to live long even when he simply shifts from one misery to the next. I have to tell you clearly, as an old man with a decrepit frame and bent back, that your views are lacking in precision. Like me, you yourself will not be spared the impositions of a long life nor will you see any more benefit from this mistaken view than anyone else. Quite to the contrary, miseries accumulate and beset mankind, no matter what the age or time."
In the second dream I saw a woman who looked exactly like me. She refused to acknowledge the fact that I had already forgotten the one thing that I had considered the most precious thing in my life.
"What's that?" I asked her.
"Good grief," she responded, "the manuscript-your lost manuscript!"
I told her that I had long since despaired of ever locating it and refused to bother about something that no longer had any point.
"But your long lost manuscript's in my hands," she said. "I'm prepared to give it back, but on one condition."
"And what's that?" I asked her.
"That you change your religion, and become a Jew."
"I belong to a faith that represents the seal, substituting the general for the particular, and even the One and Only God for the Trinitarian views of the Gospels. All that makes it unnecessary for me to bother about coincidentals, even if they include my manuscript."
The fields and orchards all made it possible for me to gradually dismiss these nightmares and daydreams. I decided to extend my stay so I could allow my spirits to recover from the strains and miseries to which they had been exposed and renew my sense of expansion and security. I spent my time on a number of different activities: contemplative prayer and a decision not to write anything (except with that unseen pen that operated in the imagination); learning about certain horticultural and irrigational skills from my expert guardians; teaching their children language and grammar rules; and occasionally resolving disputes that arose. All that was in addition to the walks I took in the area and its surroundings. I used to walk somewhere and sit on the roots of flowering trees. Once in a while I would emulate Al-Shushtari, my beloved friend and host, by rolling in the grass and earth; at others, I would imitate birds and domestic animals by sharing their sheer delight in life. Finally I would head for Solomon's Spring, drink some of its water, and wash myself.
However, no one should imagine that I ever forgot about my dear wife who had died on her way to Mecca. While I was staying in these regions, I would often visit her grave in my imagination and spend as much time as I could clasping at its soil, bathing it in tears, and implanting my fervent kisses on it. It would have been my dearest wish to find an entryway so I could be with her, thereby joining her in proximity to God Almighty and the havens of that wondrous eternity.
13
FIVE MONTHS LATER Yasir came out from Mecca to inform me of something that was almost inevitable: Abu Numa and my disciples were insisting that I come back. What is more, Sitt Umama had returned to the city and kept asking for me. Yasir asked me if I would in fact come back, then handed me a letter from my students and another from my dear friend Al-Shushtari. Both of them offered their condolences on the death of my beloved wife.
At sunrise the next morning, I said farewell to my Maghribi guardians, but not before they had received a promise from me to come back at the earliest possible opportunity. I returned to my residence in Mecca as fast as my horse would allow. Yasir and Ghaylan both welcomed me profusely. I washed, prayed, and changed clothes, then headed for the governor's palace, eager to find out what had led him to summon me back. When I arrived, he greeted me warmly and, with a minimum of questions, assured himself that I was well. For a while he spoke about his concerns and responsibilities: making the road to Mecca safe for pilgrims, preparing things for the pilgrimage season, and implementing various measures to control the flood of visitors so as to avoid troubles and disasters. I shared with him my view that there should be some limit to the number of visitors to the holy shrine at any one time and some organization of the way in which they moved in groups through the various stages of the ritual. In particular, there was a pressing need for more guards, doctors, and medical technicians. On that count he agreed with me and promised to do whatever he could.