I gathered that the silent priest needed to spend some time in seclusion in the cell, so I gestured to Abu al-Hasan that we should leave. We started on our way down on foot, while my horse enjoyed himself running around or chewing as much grass as he wanted. That done, he came sprinting toward us. All the while my colleague, who was clearly fascinated by nature, kept telling me about plants, insects, birds, and trees about which I knew absolutely nothing. As he sang the praises of their Creator he was able to assign each of them its name. He also drew my attention to the various dwellings on the mountain slopes and proceeded to describe yet another mountain high enough to be reachable only by predatory birds and certain categories of ape. Below it were the heights of Amsiwan and other promontories where he pointed out to me the fortress of the Banu Hammada and the vestiges of their now defunct kingdom. There was also the Almohad fortress and the mosque minaret. I was delighted to observe that, as the hills sloped down toward the seashore to the north, the city itself led toward some coastal plains with fields and orchards, not to mention valleys filled with trees and shady groves where apes and wild boar could be found. Abu al-Hasan finished by revealing the reasons for his delight at living in Bijaya, namely the extent to which God had endowed it with such natural wonders and a magical spiritual essence that was amply illustrated by its landscapes with their tiers and elevations.
I offered my blessing to God for having become acquainted with the one who had been able to use his knowledge and taste to describe such wonders. "This is what makes the genuine poet," I said, "that and nothing else. Someone who is familiar with the earth and what grows on it and who has learned the vast majority of the terms involved!"
The person I had extolled lowered his head modestly. "My lord," he replied, "my own knowledge is merely a small sample of your vast learning, a mere speck."
On our way down the mountainside my companion would occasionally stop in front of an aged oak tree, examine it for a moment, and then talk to it; at other times he would lean over plants or insects and say about the former that some of them had only recently arrived or sprung up, while concerning the latter he would note that they were the forest's memory and the shepherds of the ages. Once we reached the bottom of the mountain, he started rolling around in the dirt and grass, saying and chanting, "He is God" over and over again. As I watched in amazement, I envied him his courage in doing such a thing.
After washing ourselves in a clear spring, we continued on our way. Eventually we reached his house, and my generous host provided a nice stall for my horse, brought it some fodder, and then helped me unload my belongings. He then left me to arrange my things in my room while, as he intimated to me, he himself set about preparing an appropriate dinner; as he put it, one that would beggar description.
My host brought in a table and put it in the middle of the room between myself and him. By the light of a burning candle I could make out a tagine* with strips of meat and slices of fresh egg and spices, the whole ensemble floating in a sauce with olive oil and wonderful herbs. Surrounding the dish were bread, cheeses, dates, and cups of milk. In presenting this spread to me, Abu al-Hasan explained that he only did so on blessed feast days and other significant occasions that were important to him. The opportunity to talk to me and share a meal was one such occasion. He then invited me to begin, praying that my stomach would accept the food proffered with blessed ease. Like him I said, "In the name of God," then started eating my fill of the tagine. I expressed my admiration for the one who had planned and cooked it. I noticed that my companion took less of it than I did, particularly since his desire to talk meant that ever since dawn that day he had not been able to fulfill some of his charitable works as he usually did. When I asked him about the exact nature of those activities, he paused for a moment.
"It's nothing more than God Almighty and His Prophet enjoins on us," he said somewhat coyly, "when it comes to offering help to those who are troubled and neglected. How numerous indeed are such people in these turbulent times when so many people are leaving our bereaved Andalus! To which I can add, master, my role as a mediator between people in order to resolve disputes and bring about reconciliation."
I expressed my gratitude to Abu al-Hasan for his good deeds, even though I thought to myself that they were clearly beyond his own means. It seems that he sensed that feeling on my part, because he decided to go into more detail.
"One of God's bounties to me," he continued, "is that he has made me one of his holy men who can give back what they have themselves lost. I collect wealth from the rich to give to the poor. Whenever the former prove to be stingy and tight-fisted, I put on an evening performance that sometimes consists of incantations and liturgies and at others of songs and recitation. Those events soften their hard hearts and open their hands so that they give enough of God's bounty to provide for the poor and needy. In all my efforts and mediations God is my helper and His visage is my permanent desire."
I now took advantage of the fact that my host's mouth was full. "Such conduct, my dear brother," I said, "is the very essence of the true believer. The path toward closeness to God involves offering service to His people; the quest for His delight demands help for the weak and poor."
He wiped his mouth and took a drink of milk. "My father-God have mercy on him!" he went on, "operated at the very highest ranks and levels of authority. He advised me to avoid contact with people and to stay out of the way of women. According to him, that was the way to retain a sense of self-respect and keep one's mind on the right path. When I was young, his only words of advice to me were, `Don't go near the great mass of people; their ways of thinking and doing things are corrupt. Stay away from tyrants as much as possible. If you manage to place yourself beyond their coteries and modes of conduct, you will preserve both your soul and mind.' Even before being offered such advice, I had already been steering clear of tyrants. However, when it came to the mass of people, I did not follow my father's counsel, since I discovered that they constituted a domain where my natural abilities could be exercised. And, as you well know, master, there are many such people alive today, those who suffer ill at the hands of tyrants, their bodies and hearts shattered as they are deprived of their rights and senses. I get to meet all of them, whether they are free or reside in zawiyas, hospitals, or prisons. If you like, you would be welcome to join me tomorrow in my visits to some of them."
I listened to what this wonderful, saintly man was saying. "God willing," I responded, "we can indeed go together, although it would require me to postpone for a while my much-desired trip up to the cell on the mountain. Tell me about this cell that also carries your name."
"By God," he replied, "I've told people not to use that name, but to no avail. The phrase that I've painted over the doorway that you've read is of no use at all. The contents of the quotation are just part of the plentiful boons that you have provided for me. I put it over the doorway of every hut that I construct in the various Maghribi towns where I stay, be they in inhabited areas or in desert wastes."
I was somewhat overwhelmed by the fact that this remarkable man thought so much of me. "You even excel at house-building, Abu al-Hasan," I remarked by way of compliment.
"One of my students, Abu Madyan from Tlemcen, taught me how to do it. On windy mountains I construct them out of stone, but on plains and fairly flat hills I use wood, reeds, and palm leaves. God alone brings us success in all things!"