This prayer was a sign that dictation and session were drawing to a close. Hammu drank the rest of his coffee and as usual, tucked his papers and pens into the sleeve of his coat. After saying farewell, he departed.
The Night at the End of Rajab
At the beginning of this particular session, ‘Abd al-Rahman and Hammu had a conversation about the plague of locusts in the Fayyum region and the fact that it was uncomfortably close to Fustat and Cairo itself. They also talked about the low level of the Nile and the drought situation. Both men raised their palms in supplication to God, asking Him to show mercy and forgiveness. Afterward there was a period of silence, during which Hammu indicated that he was ready to listen and take notes.
“I’m afraid your papers may remain blank tonight,” ‘Abd al-Rahman said. “It’s almost as though the locusts in the air have assaulted my mind and severed the synapses. The low level of the Nile seems to be reflected in a negativity inside my mind. Until such time as God relieves us of this distressing situation, there’s simply no scope for leaps of logic and intellect, and no way of overcoming drought and aridity.
“In times past I’ve witnessed dreadful calamities in the lands of the Maghrib. During those times I have observed people with large egos and crooked minds. When there have been famines and droughts, they have monopolized the storage of grain, oil, and other foodstuffs or even exported them to other countries. I have also witnessed a wide variety of terrible atrocities, but at the time, my age gave me sufficient strength and enthusiasm to protect me from the twin evils of indifference and depression. Today, my braincells, which are in any case naturally inclined to self-absorption, react to news of dynastic turnovers and disasters by becoming still more withdrawn and depressed. Capitulation and truce, those are the only ways of coping with the situation; either that or silent withdrawal.”
“May God protect my master from all evil! But there are still two matters that you are obliged to address: firstly the penetrating proof; secondly, the escape from the bottleneck.”
“Remind me about the first of the two, but leave the other one till, God willing, I return from the next pilgrimage.”
“The gist of the first one is as follows: If the territories of the Kinana tribe know of no rivalries for power, but simply consist of ruler and people, and yet their people are no weaker or more withdrawn than in other Maghribi countries, then it’s not possible to attribute all political misfortunes to the instinct of group solidarity, nor can the principle be generalized and brought to bear in order to either endorse or counteract the record of events.”
“One of the main reasons why I have settled in this particular region is that I want to learn more about it both by reading and observation. I don’t feel the process is complete as yet; I have not delved into it enough. So don’t write anything down until I’ve had a chance to refine my thoughts. At this point, my thinking is that the reasons why Egypt is free of armed groups of the kind that cause so much turmoil in the Maghrib give it — in principle, that is, and to a greater extent than other regions — a measure of social stability and all the benefits that accrue therefrom: relatively light taxation levels, the boon of the Nile waters, and the infrequent occurrence of riots and religious dissent. However, the current Mamluk regime in Egypt, one that relies on both kinship and loyalty and eliminates any opposition within the country itself, has a mistaken notion of reform that only manages to retard it. That is the consequence of conflicting interests and a widespread institutionalization of scare tactics and preventive assassinations, all of which manage to distract the regime’s attention from the rights and interests of the people. Things carry on in this fashion until the system is demolished by forces that, like some swollen destructive flood, sweep in from the outside. That’s all I can say in my current state of exhaustion, but there’s more to follow.”
‘Abd al-Rahman glanced at his amanuensis and gestured to him not to write down any more.
“There’s something else,” he went on, “something that mars the picture. I might just as well talk about it in the hope of improving my mood.”
“Go ahead, Master. My heart is still open to your words, if not my papers. My only hope is that I may be able to offer some comfort and alleviate your feelings somewhat. As regards what you’ve said already and may still say about the Mamluks, rest assured that the contents will find inside my heart a tomb and impenetrable veil against those forces that are so swift to commit murder.”
‘Abd al-Rahman’s expression revealed signs of trust and reassurance. “As you know, Hammu,” he went on, “I have taught at the most illustrious universities and colleges, al-Zaytuna, al-Qarawiyin, al-‘Ubbad, al-Hamra’, al-Azhar, al-Qamhiya, and today in al-Barquqiya. I have never finished a class without ‘eyes watching me with deference and respect and hearts appreciating my qualification for high office; elite and populace were both alike in their reception.’
“But in the middle of this past week two strange men showed up; I’ve never seen them in my class before. They took turns bombarding me with provocative questions and biased objections. As I recollect, it followed my presentation on The Smooth Path of Malik ibn Anas.
“‘Master,’ one of them asked, ‘if there is just one truth regarding God’s word and that of His Prophet, then how does it make sense for the imams of the four schools of law each to follow their own path and to give varied and contradictory interpretations of their tenets?’
‘“What you’re doing,’ I responded, ‘is to rehash what you’ve memorized. With a greater degree of profundity you would be able to appreciate that the differences between the leaders of the schools of Sunni doctrine only occur in tangential matters, not in the basic tenets of the faith. Such differences are in and of themselves a sign of mercy, a reflection of the ways in which people differ in the various regions of the Islamic world with regard to their livelihood and lifestyles.’
“‘Professor,’ the second of them asked, ‘you have justified the success of the Maliki rite in the Maghrib as being based on two factors. Firstly, that the pilgrimage to Mecca and the additional visit to Medina, Malik’s birthplace and the cradle of his particular school, permitted the people of the Maghrib and Spain, in your view at least, to have direct contact with Maliki jurisprudence and as a consequence to ward off any influence from the schools of Iraq. Secondly, you pointed to the similarities in lifestyle between the Hijaz in Arabia and the Maghrib, something that makes people here more receptive to the Maliki school with its greater lenience. My question: is there some other factor involved, one that is more profound and genuine?’
‘“In a previous class,’ I replied, ‘one where I didn’t see either you or your companion, I discussed yet another factor that is just as valid as the two already mentioned. It resides in the important status that Malik accords in his juridical writings to the twin concepts of action and custom, also and more precisely in the way in which he expresses his frank objections to the sale of dates on a barter system, since the entire process involves unacceptable levels of loss and deceit. .’