In spite of everything, I can still remember the brothel on the northern outskirts of my Spanish city that I used to frequent with some of my friends. The madam was a huge woman. Every time she welcomed us to the establishment, she would open the doors and pull back the curtains. Obviously drunk and chewing gum, she would yell at us with her coarse voice. "I'm forced to do this," she would shout; "I'm no hero!" Then she would go on, "Okay, boys, choose whom you want. As the Qur'an puts it in the chapter on women, `marry women as pleases you and then be generous!"' In fact, the eldest among us would never "be generous" unless among the women he found one who, in his own words, would display a complete professionalism in her manner. The rest of us would turn that quotation into a joke.
People who regularly consort with prostitutes can come up with any number of excuses. The one most commonly invoked is that such entertainment provides a distraction from the hardships of life, even in the realm of the imagination, and is acceptable as long as you offer the women a fair reward. For my part and in addition to what I have just mentioned, there was the fact that I felt drawn to the women by my desire to experience with a neutral eye the sheer superficiality of our ephemeral existence here on earth, something that was manifested through the artificiality of their demeanor and their proclivity for idle chatter, finery, and perfumes.
Whatever else I may have forgotten, there was one girl in the very prime of her beauty whom I can never forget. It was not in any brothel that I got to know her-heaven forbid!!-but rather in the house of a devout pilgrim lady who had both prestige and influence. She used to take into her care young girls who were either orphans or else had fallen on bad times. They were all penniless, and so she took it upon herself to protect them from profiteers and pimps and to bring them up until such time as she could find them either husbands or means of escape or repentance. This pious woman, who was known by the name Umm al-Khayr, accepted me as a companion for her girls because, it would appear, she detected good intentions in my person and inclinations.
The sessions normally took place, once a week or more, in the house garden in the company of a troupe of musicians, each of whom was an expert singer of Andalusian poems, zajals and muwashshahs.* The result was a wonderfully joyous atmosphere that swept away all troubles and removed all concerns, if only for a while. The lady of the house gave the company such food and drink as was available and permitted. She made sure that the young men and women remained separated and only communicated with each other through gestures and glances. Those who were bolder and more daring found this particular mode of communication to be the entree into some amorous escapades, all of which would occur outside the house and by arrangement with some of the female servants.
That was how I came to make the acquaintance of this girl. I managed to take her with me on my horse to a cave I knew that was close to a deserted stretch of beach. There it was that we lay together on a velvet rug and indulged in a superb sexual union, a routine that was a replication of the waves of the sea close by. Truth to tell, she was without peer and utterly unforgettable. Just before it was time for us to go back, she sat down beside me; deep in thought, she allowed her gaze to wander off to the horizon. I imagined that she was admiring the beauty of the sea that stretched away into the distance. I blessed what she was doing and encouraged her to continue. She was a person of few words, but what she had to say astonished me: that she used to consign the worst moments of her anguish to the sea, using the lapping sounds created by the movement of the breeze on the sea's surface. Once she had learned how to swim, she said, she wanted to do it properly. I promised to serve as her instructor in that and mouthed some amiable phrases in the hope of providing her with some comfort. With that I convinced her that it was time for her to return to her residence.
It was only a few days later that one of Umm al-Khayr's servants came with the news that the girl had drowned in the sea. She had informed her that her mistress was very angry with me and did not wish to see me ever again in her residence.
I can remember, oh yes, I remember well, how much I grieved over the death of that girl, but now I can't even remember her name or anything about her. For a while I stayed in my room, claiming that I was spending my time studying. However, there was no way that I could hide my anguish and distress from my mother and sister. I spent eleven whole days fasting and giving my food to the cats. Whether sleeping or awake, my sole preoccupation was with that poor girl who had had such a miserable life and died unknown. I recall that I composed an elegy in her honor that I later included in my missing manuscript; but now I cannot recall its meter, vowel rhyme, or text.
What brought this state of affairs to an end was when my sister, Zaynab, came in and told me that my mother's health had deteriorated badly. Immediately I rushed downstairs to reassure her that I was fine, thinking that the reason why she was not well was because of me. I would also be able to lessen the pain she was feeling because my father was still neglecting to visit her. But no sooner did I lean over her than she started raving and mentioning one name over and over again: Our Lord al-Khidr.* I felt her pulse and realized that fever had her in its grip. I asked Zaynab and the servant-girl to get some medicines and grasses. I then prepared a potion that I had learned from al-Razi's* book on medicine and gave it to my sick mother. I also put a band moistened with rosewater on her forehead. After an hour's wait there was no sign of improvement, and that made me panic. I was about to go and ask the doctor to come, but then another servantgirl came rushing in to tell me that Our Lord al-Khidr had arrived. I asked my sister if the man was a doctor. Her reply astonished me: "He's the only doctor who can help our mother!"
I tried to recall what I could remember about this forty-year-old bachelor, especially about his fine reputation and the great respect my father and other notables had for him. I put all my trust in his skills, and hoped and prayed for my mother's recovery at his hands.
When he came in and greeted us, he was looking neat and well turned out as usual. He had a regal bearing, and his face and features sparkled; his smiling visage and gentle looks and gestures all managed to give one comfort. I watched as he sat down beside my mother and leaned over to kiss her head. What happened next was, by God Almighty, totally amazing: she opened her eyes wide, removed the band from her forehead, and sat up. It was as though the mere image and scent of the person sitting beside her had been enough not only to arouse her senses for living after a period when they had seemed to atrophy and fade away, but also to restore her to health following a bout of illness that had sapped her energy. She kept whispering his name in sheer delight and clasped his hands so she could kiss them, staring at them sometimes and at his face at other times. It was as if she needed to be absolutely certain for herself. While she was in this trancelike state, she paid absolutely no attention to either myself or my sister; we had both withdrawn to a corner and were simply observing. She did not bother either with the two servant-girls who were vying with each other to keep the table loaded with food and drink. It seemed to me that it was only when Al-Khidr suggested that she eat something that she regained her bearings again and began to take note of what was going on around her. She seemed delighted to follow his advice and tucked into the food with relish. When her savior was on the point of leaving, he summoned the two servant-girls and instructed them to stay with their mistress through the night in case she needed anything. Looking in my direction, he told me with complete confidence that, God willing, my mother would be restored to complete health on the morrow.