I reached my own quarters in record time and sought out 'Abd al-Barr. I asked him to find someone to take care of my horse, and he assured me that he would do so. He then informed me sadly that Shaykh `Abd al-Kamil from Meknes had actually died that very afternoon. On his deathbed he had been continually invoking the names of God, his Prophet, and my own name as well. From time to time he would say peculiar things, like "Here's a chicken with cumin, Ibn Dara; God has given it to you… and here's the really good deal…" I had to suppress the urge to laugh, and promised the warden that I would meet him at the funeral the next day. With that I headed for the dead man's room, recited some verses over him, and then bade him a final farewell.
Before noon prayer the next day (which was a Saturday), I conducted a funeral rite for the dead man, and then he was buried amid a flood of prayers, including the ones that were dearest to him while he was still alive-namely that God would accord him a place in His paradise and pour on him the abundance of His blessings without interruption or recompense….
Immediately after the noon prayer in the mosque, 'Abd al-Barr invited me to have lunch with him in his house, and I duly accepted. Part of our conversation revolved around death and the next world, while other parts concerned people's lives and the troubles they faced in this world. I got the impression that my host had something he wanted to tell me but was hesitating. With a broad smile on my face I asked him directly what was troubling him. He frowned, gave a deep sigh, then explained to me how bad the situation was with the facilities at the zawiya, especially the quarters for travelers; worst of all were the conditions in the lunatic asylum. In the latter facility there were only five orderlies and assistants left, who persevered patiently in spite of the paltry salaries they received for their pains. The thing he feared most was that the overlord of the lunatics would die, and then the place would fall apart and descend into complete chaos. The number of regular donors was going down, he told me. But for the financial help he had received from the governor, Ibn Khalas, whom he praised profusely, the entire zawiya and its facilities would long since have been swept away like so much dust.
Since this was the second time he had alluded to the governor in complimentary terms, I decided to exploit the opportunity.
"My dear 'Abd al-Barr," I said, "these days governors are all of the same ilk, vicious, domineering, and tyrannical. Morning and evening they all sing the same tune: me first, and my own interest, and `apres moi le deluge..: If any of them shows a modicum of mercy and kindness, then it is for a very specific purpose that they have in mind. So is this Ibn Khalas different from all the others? Is he a bird that sings a different song?"
"For my part, dear Sir," he responded in all innocence and sincerity, "I can only go on what I can see. Whatever lingers inside men's hearts I entrust to the One who is all-knowing about the unseen. I have previously described the governor to you just as I have come to know him. As regards the running of the city's affairs, he is fully on top of things, and makes every possible effort to be fair and reasonable. If he were like many other governors who run government affairs these days, he would have apprehended you as soon as you arrived in Sabta and compelled you to follow his line. But, as he has told me many times, he has decided not to harass people who incline toward mystical ideas and seclusion, those believers who tread the delicate path toward God. This posture of his is totally at variance with that of the sultans of the region, Al-Rashid, who rules as sultan in this particular era, being prime among them."
I made no comment on my companion's remarks but preferred to ponder my own thoughts in silence. It was as though there was something I needed but was reluctant to bring to mind. Seeing my mood, he asked me gently what I was thinking about.
"Do you know the lady Fayha' from Sabta?" I asked him.
"I've not met her thus far. However I do know that she's from an illustrious and much respected family. Both her father and husband-may God have mercy on them both! — worked in Ibn Khalas's department. They were both devoted to excellence and admirers of genuine learning. They always were glad to offer assistance to migrants arriving from Spain."
"Tell me frankly, 'Abd al-Barr," I asked, "can you see her as my wife?"
"Anyone who manages to have her as a wife is a lucky man indeed. Put your trust in God and show the best of intentions toward the one whose hand you seek. Aha! So now I can understand what our late friend, 'Abd al-Kamil from Meknes, was talking about on his deathbed. She must have been the really good deal he kept talking about. What a wonderful person that happy devotee was! Now he has left us, and you are about to do so as well. Who knows what's going to happen to all the other good folk living in our midst?"
I noticed the sad expression in his eyes and made a point of assuring him that I fully intended to keep my connection with both him and the zawiya. He heaved himself to his feet and departed, offering me his prayers as he did so.
8
SO NOW I'VE MADE UP MY MIND.
When both this devout man and the shaykh from Meknes share the same opinion, it cannot be wrong.
I'm waiting for you, Fayha'. So give me a sign, and I'll obey. Issue your instructions, and I'll respond at once. While you are making everything ready for us, I will inevitably have to take some dives, albeit briefly, into a well-defined quadrangle within the broader sea of religious and secular learning.
For that particular day and others that would follow it, I made a selection of books, some of which had long been awaiting my attention. They each issued an invitation, tempting me to read them for the first time or to reread them. I put them either on my table or under my pillow, all with the goal of perusing them whenever possible as a way of compensating for my lack of concentration in recent times. As is my usual practice when it comes to making the most effective use of my learning time, I examined the various genres of writing laid out before me from the perspective of those areas of knowledge and preoccupations that were my particular concern at that point. It seemed inevitable to me that I would have to reread the section from al-Ghazali's great work, Revival of the Religious Sciences, devoted to "marriage customs," in which the great sage manages to give a superb presentation with regard to both its analytical presentation and its clear exposition. In this section (and also in another section devoted to the proper practice of seclusion), he elucidates for the reader his rationale for basing the discussion of differences in people on different life circumstances and personalities, although he goes on to point out that humans in general have a tendency to find a happy medium-to the extent feasible-between devotion to God and marriage and between seclusion and congregation with others. However, anyone who adheres to one of these pairs rather than both is responsible for his own decision and can justify himself on those grounds with no call for censure or blame. As the text itself notes, Malik ibn Dinar* was asked, "Why haven't you married?" to which he replied, "Given my druthers, I would divorce my own self." Then there's the quotation from Ibn Adham*: "Nothing good has ever come from someone who is used to women's thighs." That comment needs much more precision and specificity, and can be interpreted in a whole host of ways.