He was amazed and observed, “I don’t understand how the people of the Eastern Hammada can tolerate suffering from barrenness and perish from drought when near them lie gardens that would suffice to feed dozens of tribes.”
The guide replied, “The first secret is hidden there. The nomad found himself traveling through the Eastern Hammada and relished that life, assuming that he was walking through the promised paradise. He persuaded himself, relying on habit, that he would definitely perish should he dare to leave for the West, because his foot had never trod the land of the Western Hammada and he had learned its characteristics only from the tales of travelers, the whispers of the Spirit World’s inhabitants, and the mouths of lying messengers. So how can you rescue a community that refuses to attempt an exodus? How can people achieve salvation if they refuse to look farther than their noses? This reminds me of a slave I wished to honor. So I decided to manumit him. Do you know how he responded to this gift? He threw himself at my feet and kissed my sandal as he wept. He said that freedom is a burden that wasn’t created for someone accustomed to servitude. He did not know what he would do with himself if he left my household. He finally said he would be forced to hang himself if I refused to change my mind.”
He answered disapprovingly, “How horrible, Master! Now I have grasped why our tribe is marked for extinction.”
The guide seconded this thought: “You’re right. A tribe of this character deserves nothing but extinction!”
6
Bold streams flowed through the next valleys. Although the water had receded, the clay banks it left were still wet, and their feet sank into the quivering muck. They followed paths that were stones set in the slopes. Then they climbed terraces that soon spread out into plains that were carpeted with patches embellished by colorful flowers. In the open air, birds called back and forth with songs like young women’s trills. Herds of gazelles trampled the body of the earth with their hooves as they bolted away, and the tombs of the ancient ancestors kept the two men company on swordlike heights and the crests of hills until these stopped them when they confronted the summit where the spring originated.
The guide said, “You should drink from the spring’s waters if you wish to liberate yourself from the ancient load.”
He asked in astonishment, “To what load is my master referring?”
The leader replied, “Didn’t you tell me you long to free yourself from the bonds of the intellect?”
He responded, “I don’t deny that this has frequently tempted me, but merely as a passing whisper, because we are a people who do not free ourselves of anything easily. We consider liberation from the intellect, Master, to be a harsh punishment.”
The leader cried out, “Here you resemble the people of the Eastern Hammada and cling to the shackles of servitude!”
He began to tremble and protested, “We consider the intellect to be life-sustaining — possibly because we’ve never experienced life without an intellect.”
The leader said, “Here you have won the key to the secret. All that remains is for you to take another step to open the door.”
He was shaking more violently and pleaded, “But forgetfulness is grim, Master. Dementia is grimmer than extinction.”
The leader approached him, leaned toward his ear, and asked, “Would it harm you to forget the people and terrors of the Eastern Hammada? Would it harm you to move from that barren land to live in a homeland that doesn’t acknowledge space because it has liberated itself from time’s rule?”
His body became feverish, and he began to tremble again, shaking violently. He complained loudly, “Dementia is an illness, Master. Forgetfulness is a terror worse than the plague, Master!”
The guide insisted stubbornly, “The lethal illness has a lethal antidote. You will never gain life unless you lose a fantasy you have always considered life. So beware!” The leader knelt at the spring, where water leapt from a fissure in the solid rock. Pure water like tears chased through the void in spiraling tongues that joined at times and separated at others, creating a mischievous bow in the air, before falling to the bottom, splashing on solid rock, scattering spray over the banks, and inundating the green, fertile soil that clung to the shores. The leader moved his veil away from his mouth and filled his hands with the deluge as tiny bubbles from the spray glistened and dripped from his hands like teardrops. He raised his palms to his mouth, which was covered by a thick mustache that had turned totally white. Below his mouth a dense beard was even whiter. A few small hairs grew upwards and were interwoven with his mustache, fully covering his lips. He swallowed. He swallowed with the slow deliberation of the noble elders and the ravenous thirst of the masses. Then his eyes were flooded with profound surrender, and the diviner saw in his pupils a gleam like tears of joy. There was a smile in his eyes. The diviner did not catch the smile on his lips, which were covered by the underbrush of snow-white hair. He did, however, capture the smile in his eyes, because the diviner was accustomed to seizing a prophecy from the sparks of a sign. He was searching for the secret of the sign when he found that a handful of the deluge was touching his lips too.
The diviner released a profound sigh before sipping some of the flood from his palms.
______________
10. Calotropis procera (Asclepiadaceae), also known as the Sodom apple.
IX FORGETFULNESS
Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.
1
Gossips quickly spread the news.
The tribe awoke to hear that the diviner had succumbed to dementia’s forgetfulness the previous day. They said he had thrown out his slave girl, whipped his slave, and ordered the herders to bring him his camels because he had decided to quit the tribe’s encampment and migrate to settle in the Western Hammada. The ruckus grew more agitated by late morning. Boys raced from tent site to tent site, women emerged from their tents to watch, and herdsmen left their caravans of camels and retraced their steps to question servants about the news to satisfy their curiosity. Even the sages were compelled to gape as the bareheaded diviner chased teenage boys and the rabble while brandishing his tent pole threateningly. Others related that they had seen him respond to the call of nature between tent sites — still bareheaded — and then hurriedly enter the next tent instead of returning to his own home. The wretched slave girl claimed that he had thrown her out because she had refused to submit to his shameful desire when he groped her and wanted to sleep with her. She made a comment that soon made the rounds and was repeated by every tongue: “Iymmeskal. Ahadagh ar iymmeskal. Awagh wiggegh amghar wazzayagh. He’s been switched. I swear he’s been switched. This isn’t the old man I know.”
The ruckus continued.
The boys realized that the diviner actually had lost his mind and decided to have some fun. They provoked him with the tricks they typically played on madmen and the possessed. He chased them, cursing or waving his tent pole.
The sages consulted and sent each other letters via servants, herders, or teenage boys, but the hero acted before they could. He was the first to drive away the rabble and scatter them. Then he put his arms around the raging diviner and hugged him for a long time. Next he seized the tent pole from the diviner’s grasp and carried him away like a bundle of clothes. He set him down in a corner of the tent, which had collapsed in the center after the tent pole was removed. Ahallum replaced the tent pole and ordered a passerby to bring him both the physician and the apothecary.