At his words, the Pilgrims cried out in unison, “Yes!”
The Prophet raised his hand and continued.
“So let whoever has been given something for safekeeping give it back to him who gave him it. Truly, the usury of the Era of Ignorance has been laid aside forever. And truly, the blood vengeance of the Era of Ignorance has been laid aside forever. Truly, the hereditary distinctions that were the pretense of the Era of Ignorance have been laid aside forever.”
He paused and then laid out his final commandments for the people, even as Moses had done at Sinai.
“O people: truly you owe your women their rights, and they owe you yours. They may not lie with other men in your beds, let anyone into your houses you do not want without your permission, or commit indecency. You in turn must provide for them and clothe them fittingly. So fear God in respect to women, and concern yourselves with their welfare. Have I given the message? O God, be my witness.”
The crowds cried in assent again, their voices thundering through the valley with such power that I could feel the earth beneath me tremble.
“O people, believers are but brothers. Your Lord is One, and your father is one. All of you are from Adam, and Adam was from the mud of the earth. The noblest of you in God’s sight is the best in conduct. An Arab has no merit over a non-Arab, nor a white man over a black man, other than in his moral conduct. Have I given the message? O God, be my witness!”
As the crowd shouted again its agreement, I saw a strange light surrounding the Messenger, like a circle of fire. I told myself it was just the punishing desert sun playing tricks on me. And yet the light persisted and grew gradually brighter.
“Today I received these words from God, which the angel Gabriel has told me will be the final Revelation from the Lord of the Worlds.”
There was stunned silence and everyone listened carefully as the Prophet recited in his beautiful flowing voice the Word of God.
Today the disbelievers have lost all hope that you will give up your faith.
Do not fear them, but fear Me.
Today I have perfected your religion for you
Completed my blessing upon you
And chosen for your religion Islam-the Surrender.
We all stood there in awe as God’s final words to mankind sank into our hearts. And then the Prophet raised his voice and asked the question one last time.
“Have I given the message? O God, be my witness!”
And as the cries of affirmation echoed all around us, I saw tears flowing down my husband’s face. For in that moment, I realized that he had finally completed his life’s work. There was nothing more left to be done.
“Then let whoever is present tell whoever is absent. And peace be upon all of you, and the mercy of Allah.”
Even as he spoke these words, the strange light around him appeared to intensify and for a moment it seemed as if my husband were made of light itself, shining brighter than the sun. I looked down, unable to bear the blinding rays emanating from about his noble figure.
And then I gasped, for my eyes fell on the earth around where he stood. And I could see no sign of a shadow. My father and Umar were right beside him, and their shadowy outlines fell away from them as the sun slid toward the horizon. And yet Muhammad alone among all those who stood at the peak cast no shade.
And then the mysterious light around my husband vanished, and his shadow reappeared against the craggy rocks as if it had always been there. And without another word, the Messenger of God climbed down from the mountain peak and immersed himself in the adoring masses.
AS WE RETURNED TO Medina at the end of the Pilgrimage, two events occurred that would change the course of Muslim history. First was the birth of my half brother Muhammad. My father had taken a second wife in his old age, a war widow named Asma bint Umais, who had become pregnant with his last child. Even though she was late in her term when the season of Pilgrimage had come, my stepmother had insisted upon accompanying my father to Mecca. She had performed all the rituals admirably and without complaint, but soon after we left the precincts of the holy city, her water broke and my baby brother was born.
I fell in love with little Muhammad the moment I saw him, for he had my fiery red hair and adorable dimples on his cheeks whenever he smiled, which was often. In the years to come, Muhammad ibn Abu Bakr would become like a son to me, even as you have been, Abdallah, and it is my greatest regret that I was not able to restrain him or guide him away from the terrible destiny that awaited him.
And though I did not know it then, the man who shared responsibility for my brother’s destiny was among us, and it was because of the events that occurred on that road home from Mecca that their souls would become intertwined.
Our pilgrim caravan stopped for water at a pond located in a small valley called Ghadir Khumm, a barren place of no significance that would later be remembered as the home of the great schism that drove the Muslims apart forever, shattering a unified Ummah into sects that were perennially at war.
As the camels and horses drank at the pond and the believers refilled their water caskets, a man approached the Prophet and loudly complained about Ali, who had been his leader in a recent military command and had been seen by the men as too strict in enforcing discipline.
I saw the patient smile on my husband’s face vanish and a dark look cross his features. I knew that he was very sensitive about Ali, and I had learned through experience to keep my own rather dismal opinions of the Prophet’s son-in-law to myself. Of course the Messenger was aware that Ali was unpopular with some of the Muslims, but hearing that the soldiers under Ali’s command were now openly agitating against a man whom Muhammad loved like a son inspired in him a rare fury. He suddenly summoned all the believers to gather about him and then called forth Ali, who had been sharpening his sword against the jagged rocks of the valley.
The Messenger of God held Ali’s right hand aloft and called out loudly, his black eyes shining with a frightening intensity.
“Hear, O Muslims and do not forget. Whosoever holds me as his Mawla, know that Ali is also his Mawla. O Allah, befriend those who befriend Ali, and be the enemy of whosoever is hostile to him!”
It was a powerful pronouncement and one unlike any I had ever heard my husband say. He had clearly exalted Ali in a way that he had never done for any other man among his followers. And yet the words themselves were unclear and open to interpretation, for the word Mawla means many things in Arabic, including master, friend, lover, and even slave. But whatever my husband meant, it was clear that he was tired of the grumbling about the young man who had fathered his grandchildren and wanted to put an end to the cheap gossip about his closest relative.
Whether Muhammad intended anything more in that moment than to remind us to respect and honor his cousin would become a matter of passionate debate in the years to come. And one day the argument would devolve into open warfare.
44
Several months after we returned from the Pilgrimage, the Messenger entered my house one day when I was sewing. I looked up from the patch that I was applying to my old cloak to see him gazing at me serenely, a soft smile on his lips.
“Is it not Maymuna’s day?” I asked, referring to the most recent of my husband’s wives, Maymuna bint al-Harith, an impoverished divorcée whom he had married shortly after the truce with Mecca. She was a kindly woman in her thirties who was always seeking ways to raise money to free slaves, as she believed that no man should be a slave to anyone except God. Maymuna was an aunt of Khalid ibn al-Waleed, the Sword of Allah, and many believed that she had influenced her nephew to abandon Mecca and defect to the Prophet’s side.