“As I’m telling you about my dream, Hammu, I can recall now that my meeting with Timur was one of those events that manage to tell us a great deal about the Middle East’s unreasonable share of misery and disaster. The meeting, which was interspersed with a meal and truncated conversations, took place in an atmosphere fraught with fear and rumor. The only way I found to counter it was at times to murmur verses from the Qur’an, the chapter on the sea from Abu al-Hasan al-Shadhili, and at others, to recall the Mamluk victory over Hulagu Khan at ‘Ayn Jalut.
“Dear God, disperser of accumulated darkness, granter of dashed hopes, I pray You to lighten the burden of what is to come and, in the measure of Your great kindness, to turn my dream into a source of comfort for me and Muhammad’s people. Amen!”
Like ‘Abd al-Rahman, al-Hihi raised his hands to God as he repeated “Amen.” The two men recited the Fatiha of the Qur’an and then in a powerfully spiritual atmosphere, performed some intercessions.
“Master,” said al-Hihi as soon as they had finished, “I have a request to make.”
“Fine, Hammu, say it with no hesitation.”
“Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to invite you to a meal in my modest home. But I’ve never dared broach the topic for fear of disrupting your work or interfering with your desire for seclusion. Barely a day has gone by during the first half of last month without Umm al-Banin insisting that you spend the Sha‘ban celebration with us. I kept on refusing on the grounds that you were extremely busy and preoccupied.”
“That is the night of innocence. Invite me, and I’ll certainly be there.”
“So then, my every hope is that we’ll celebrate your return from the pilgrimage in my house and at my expense.”
“In your house for sure, but only on condition that the expenses will be paid by those who’ve been blessed by their participation in the pilgrimage.”
“If there’s anyone to share my joy that you’ll be honoring me in this way, then it’s Umm al-Banin. She’ll be shouting for joy and starting preparations for the sweets this very day!”
‘Abd al-Rahman put a purse of money into al-Hihi’s pocket, even though the latter made every effort to stop him. They then talked about the seven previous nights of dictation.
“I am hereby entrusting you, Hammu, with my dictated thoughts. If I return alive from the pilgrimage, I’ll look them over carefully and make a few additions. If I should happen to die while I am there, then publish them as they are, along with this letter of mine by way of assent and verification.”
“You will return to us, Master, as a devout pilgrim, hale and hearty. If you in turn should discover that I’ve passed away, the papers will be where Umm al-Banin keeps her jewelry hidden.”
“God willing, you’ll live longer than you expect, so you can be protector and treasure to your wife.”
There was a knock on the front door. Sha‘ban stood up, greeted the knocker, and announced that the cameleer was at the door. ‘Abd al-Rahman leapt to his feet and went to his room to put on his travel clothes. When he came back and went out of the front door, he found al-Hihi and Sha‘ban squabbling over who should help the cameleer load the camel and tether the baggage. No sooner had the hour arrived to join up with the caravan going to the Sinai port than ‘Abd al-Rahman hugged first al-Hihi and then Sha‘ban, telling the former to check on the house from time to time and the latter to take good care of Umm al-Banin when she went on her walks. As al-Hihi helped ‘Abd al-Rahman mount the camel, he whispered in his master’s ear, reminding him of his promise to pray that Umm al-Banin might have a child, all in order to satisfy her insistent demands.
And with one gesture ‘Abd al-Rahman signaled to the cameleer to set out on foot toward their destination, while with another he bade his two friends farewell.
2. Between Falling in Love and Operating in the Shadow of Power
Ibn Khaldun relaxed by living close to the River Nile. He liked listening to female singing and consorting with the young. He married a woman with a reckless brother who was reputed to be mixing with unsavory company and thus fell into a pit of corruption. That, at any rate, is what I read in The Judges by Jamal al-Din al-Bishniti.
In Cairo lives someone who loves me and whom I love (Ibn Khaldun).
The pilgrimage: from the port on the west coast of Arabia, to the Sinai peninsula, then to Mecca via Yanbu‘.
The pilgrimage, returning to Egypt from Mecca, passing through Yanbu‘, Qusayr, and Upper Egypt.
The round trip took about six months. As I’ll explain below, I found myself perpetually lost in a sea of distractions and fantasies.
On the way there and back I was traveling between the tomb of Imam al-Shafi‘i and the graveyard by the Muqattam Hills when I was stopped by a troupe of horsemen. Their leader addressed me in faulty Arabic: “You greet al-Zahir, our lord. Is forgotten? Cameleer go to your house, you come with us to the royal household.”
On the way back I asked him to postpone the meeting till the next day so I could go home, take a bath, and rest. But he refused, saying that I could do all that at the palace.
It was while I was riding on horseback with them that I suddenly realized how very absent-minded and distracted I’d become. I had no trouble determining the cause: my mind was totally preoccupied with thoughts of Umm al-Banin. She had even made me forget that I was obliged to go and present my salutations to the sultan both before leaving and upon my return. The thought of her had banished the mighty Mamluk ruler from my mind altogether. What it all meant was that she was beginning to have an undesired effect on my interior self and infiltrating her way into my heart and soul. But I can swear that my conscience in the matter was clear. My only motive was one of pure and innocent affection and a strong desire that my prayers should accord this woman the boon of childbirth.
Ever since my arrival in Egypt as a refugee, there had only been three occasions when I had managed to have a meeting with Sultan Barquq in the Ablaq Palace within the Jabal al-Ahmar Citadel. I had paid scant attention to the architecture of the place, merely muttering ‘What opulence!’ as I reminded myself that God alone endures. I can recall that during the course of those visits my eyes would open wide as I passed through the portal to the private mosque where prayers were performed. For a few moments I had just stared at the sheer elegance all around me — the elaborate marble paving on the floor and the gilded ceiling in the sultan’s private section. I had also counted the colonnades around the courtyard. This time, however, I seemed to have the status of compulsory guest, so I had plenty of time to look at my surroundings more carefully and take in things I had not had the chance to on previous visits. That is exactly what I started doing, once, that is, the servants had finished bathing, powdering, and dressing me. I took a look at the food I was offered, and was then informed that the sultan could not give me an audience till after the noontime prayers on Friday, the following day. I would thus have to stay overnight in the citadel palace.