The Theocrat: A Modern Arabic Novel (Modern Arabic Literature) (10 page)

“I am one of those people who, whenever they cry, weep in a veritable flood of hot tears. I cannot begin to describe it. If I tried, I would do no better than Sufi poets when they try to depict tears. So look up what people have said previously about distress and tearful eyes.

“Why do I weep? The basic reason is that I can find no alternative to violence as a way of keeping my people and authorities on the straight path; also that all my actions and adventures in the political realm are merely a drop in a bottomless ocean.

“There are secrets that I can only divulge on the day when I am close to death. So wait till I am on my deathbed, and then I will provide you with information that will expose me and dash my honor and reputation.”

Dawn was on the point of appearing when al-Hakim’s expression showed clear signs of exhaustion and insomnia. He stood up, looked at
the young scribe’s genitals, and put on his cloak. Then he left the balcony where he had been drinking and headed for his quarters in the palace. Hardly had he gone before the devotees descended on the young scribe, snatched the papers from his hands, and rushed to transcribe their contents in order to contemplate and interpret them for themselves and thereafter to utilize their findings among the circle of initiates as a mode of access to interpretation and occult wisdom.

2. A Session in Quest of Surprise

An amusing tale from the time of al-Hakim tells how a judge in Egypt was named “head-butter.” The reason was that he had a cap with two cow horns on it that he used to keep beside him. Whenever two litigants came to his court and one of them tried to bully the other, the judge would don his cap with the two horns, move out, and start butting the litigant who was bullying the other one. All this made the judge very famous. Al-Hakim got to hear about this and sent for the judge. When he came into al-Hakim’s presence, the caliph asked him what he thought he was doing to earn such a bad reputation among the people. The judge responded, “O Commander of the Faithful, I would be delighted if one day you came to my court, sat behind a curtain, and simply listened to what I have to endure from the common people. Either you’ll see my point of view, or else you can punish me as you see fit.” Al-Hakim told him he would come the next day to see what he meant. Next morning, al-Hakim did indeed go to the judge’s court and took a seat behind a curtain. Two litigants came before the judge; one claimed a hundred dinars from the other and claimed that the other man had acknowledged the debt. The judge then ordered the second party to pay what he owed, but the latter responded that he was having difficulties at that moment and asked the court to order payment in installments. “What do you have to say to that?” the judge asked the plaintiff. “Make him pay ten dinars a month,” he replied. “I can’t do that,” the
defendant replied. “How about five dinars?” the judge asked, to which the defendant again said that he could not manage that much. “Two dinars,” the judge suggested, and again the defendant said it was impossible. “One dinar,” said the judge, with the same result. Eventually the judge got down to just ten dinars a month, and still the defendant claimed it was impossible. The judge now asked the defendant how much he could afford to pay in order to satisfy the plaintiff. He replied that he could only afford three dinars a year, but only on condition that my opponent in this case is put in jail so he’ll never receive the amount in any case. At this point al-Hakim ran out of patience and came out from behind the curtain. “For heaven’s sake, butt this fiendish wretch,” he said. “If you don’t, then I will.” Al-Hakim was actually more stupid than the judge. The end.

Ibn Iyas,

Bright Flowers Concerning the Events of the Ages

Judicial proceedings and torts were normally resolved by personal interpretations of judges, but could also involve squabbles over influence and the stench of bribery and corruption. Al-Hakim lost no time in taking up the issue and devoting his attention to it. Perhaps the most remarkable judicial council that he graced with his caliphal chairmanship was the one that he held one night immediately after emerging from a treatment in violet oil. What made things so unusual was that the accused found themselves confronted with a banner, something that neither judges nor legal authorities had ever witnessed before—because it was entirely of al-Hakim’s own devising: “Surprise me, and I will forgive you!” The point of the whole thing—as Ghayn, the chief of police and public morality, explained to the six accused who were standing inside a cage—was that, as a way of saving themselves from death, each one of them should come up with the most adept aphorisms, the cleverest discourse, and the funniest jokes, all in order to surprise and entertain the caliph.

The first defendant to come before al-Hakim was a man from al-Basra, Abu ‘Ali Muhammad ibn al-Hasan ibn al-Haytham, who was renowned for his profound knowledge of physics and mathematics. The accused
bowed respectfully to the caliph. “Ibn al-Haytham,” said al-Hakim. “just recall the things I revealed to you in secret. You asked me what I feared most, and I told you that my single fear was too little water in the Nile. My continual hope was that at irrigation time its level would always reach seventeen cubits so as to avoid inflation in food prices and the need for taxation. In such circumstances I would be faced with famine among my own people, outbreaks of disease, and deaths in large numbers. I would have no other recourse than to make contributions from my own property and force converts to Islam to readopt to their own faith so that I could then reimpose the head-tax and bolster revenues. You came to see me, Ibn al-Haytham, and claimed you could make use of your calculations and mathematical knowledge to increase the Nile’s product whether it was in flood or at lower levels. I commissioned troops of water technicians to inform you about the Nile from its Aswan cataracts all the way to its various stations, branches, and tributaries. The whole thing was a waste of time; your promises were so much hot air. Even so, we chose not to accuse you of breaking a promise. Instead we charged you to investigate other departments, hut now you have started to feign madness. All the documents and numbers were a mess, and the issues ended up in a very sorry state. Just when I was on the point of deciding to take away all your responsibilities, my sources have informed me that your feigned madness was merely a ruse to avoid serving me and escape punishment. Today you stand here burdened by the weight of this cunning deceit; furthermore, my admiration for your mathematical skills is not sufficient to rescue you from the troubles you’ve caused yourself.”

“My lord,” Ibn al-Haytham replied, “a curse on my failure to curb the Nile, something that has plagued me and disturbed my slumber ever since. The river defied all my calculations and projects and simply scoffed as it demolished all my equations and measurements, It almost seemed as though it was leaving its own banks just in order to bring cascades of water crashing down on my head. All I could do in response was to whistle and get out of the way. One day I was walking and whistling just a short distance from my sleeping place in the desert, when all of a sudden I got the idea
of coming to the royal assembly and submitting a request to resign from all my responsibilities. That is in fact what I did. After waiting for a while I received a letter from my lord refusing my request because of the suspect personal motivations that had led me to submit the petition. Once I had read the letter, it seemed to me that the only thing I could do was to retire with my dark beard and feign madness. Without that, all avenues to a reasonable life would be closed, leaving me in the clutches of despair and never-ending insomnia. And so I sank ever lower. I started walking around the city with a scowl on my face, never responding to salutations and guffawing as I chased equations, measurements, and integers. Now, my lord, your sources have revealed my pseudo-madness, so I beg you to remove from my path the things that block my passage and stifle my breathing.”

“That is indeed amazing, Ibn al-Haytham,” said al-Hakim, signs of surprise already registering in his demeanor, “but I won’t let you go until you tell me why you won’t work in my service.”

“I’m afraid, my lord,” replied Ibn al-Haytham, “that serving you can never involve failure or diffidence; it all has to be brilliant and successful. Working within the shadow of your august presence, I have come to realize that every servant naturally strives to see his star wax strong, but that, once successful, the same star is destined to fall. This is a distressing irony, one that I find unbearable; indeed I can only discuss it in the words of the poet who says:

    In you I see behavior both good and bad; by my life, you are the one I shall describe:

    Near and far, forthcoming and inscrutable, generous and miserly, upright and criminal,

    Honest and deceitful, so not even his friend knows whether to shun or flatter him.

    You are neither deceiver nor counselor; I find myself completely uncertain about you.

    So my tongue can both lampoon and extol you, just as my heart is both knowing and ignorant of you.”

“You do indeed surprise me, Ibn al-Haytham.” said al-Hakim with a laugh, “you surprise me very much! So go in peace! Now bring in the poet, Ibn al-Sa‘sa‘ al-Qarmati.”

With that Ghayn the police chief went over to the cage where the accused were being kept and brought out a handsome young man in the prime of his youth. He forced the young man to kiss the ground in front of the caliph and display signs of humility and obedience.

“Come now, young man,” said a!-Hakim. “Tell us about the accusation against you, the way you interpret the history of ‘Ali—peace be upon him!—and the Shi‘a who make him divine.”

“My Lord,” Ibn Sa‘sa‘ began, “you should be aware that ‘Ali—peace be upon his memory—had spent two thirds of a night in prayer and recitation. Just before dawn he and his army set off to confront a group of his followers who were exaggerating his superhuman qualities and making him divine.

“Once he had reached them and had them surrounded, they bowed down to him.

‘“You are our god, creator, and provider,” they all said. ‘From you we take our beginning and to you we return. For you to be our Lord is glory enough: for us to be your servants is honor enough. You are as we would wish, now make us as you would wish!’

‘“Ali drew his sword and told these devotees to desist from such gross hyperbole and error. They refused and vaunted their defiance.

“This very day I shall fill this ditch with your corpses,’ ‘Ali told them, ‘and dire is the resort for you thereafter!’

‘“If you do indeed slay us,” they replied once they realized they were doomed to die, “you yourself will raise us up again! We testify that ‘Ali is the Imam al-Mahdi, the expected Messiah!’

“When threats proved to be of no avail, ‘Ali gave orders for a fire to be lit in the ditch and for their bodies to be burned. He recited the following line: Once I realized that the matter was anathema, I lit my fire and summoned a lark.’

“From the limits of life the humble servant now stands before you. I began my comments on this hadith by saying: Had ‘Ali actually
renounced such hyperbole regarding his unique essence and the glorification of his worldly-record, he would have realized that the ‘Ali. of those who burned to death in that fire was not ‘Ali himself, but rather Imam ‘Ali, the expected one; and it is impossible to await what is either present or transitory. The use of the very same name for a personage who is absent is a metaphorical device demanded by the will of events. As a result, the basic, real meaning of the word ‘‘Ali’ here is Man. The Shi‘a were awaiting the imam named Man, and in that they were indeed radical.”

“The only thing that astonishes me about your interpretation,” said al-Hakim, “is your reliance on the role of imagination. You can astound us even more now by giving your imagination free rein to contemplate your death at my hands.”

“I’m only contemplating death at your hands, my lord,” replied Ibn Sa‘sa‘ confidently, “in a single, utterly unique fashion. In the police record it will state as follows: ‘In that the perpetrator of the above mentioned interpretation has radically supported the cause of the Shi‘a who were burned, in that his words do not conform with their testimony, in that he is a well-known poet-heretic who defines poetry as the revelation of what is inspired by standing in front of a wall in the midday sun when people are taking a nap, in that this poet has extolled authority and seems devoted to it, this poet who claims that poetry is the discourse of waiting in that space which separates us from seizing power, and—in another version—that the most poetic of poets is one who senses that his poetry is an expression of essential weakness and deprivation, and so he strives for power and dreams of it. The police authorities, realizing their duties and ever watchful for the repose of the people, reserve for themselves the right to arrest and interrogate the poet until such time as he reveals the many secrets stored in his heart.’ However, my lord, once I have disappeared for ever, Ghayn, the chief of police, will release a factual report to people, which will say: ‘Rumors have spread abroad in the country stating that Ibn Sa‘sa‘ the poet who had been arrested by our forces died while being tortured by our personnel. In that this is false, we have no alternative but to reveal the following information: the above-named poet’s corpse was
discovered where the Nile waters had deposited it. A medical examination determined that he had been killed by a dagger thrust while fighting alongside pimps and heretics.’”

“I’m truly amazed, young man,” said al-Hakim contentedly. “Get out of here before my sword performs your vision for you! Now, Ghayn, bring in the Sufi with no shoes.”

The Sufi did not bother to wait for Ghayn to execute the caliph’s command, but rushed over to stand before the caliph, repeating the phrase, “Be kind to me, O God!” over and over again, and then. “I beg God’s forgiveness; He is sufficient for me, and is good as a trustee!”

“So, shoeless one,” said al-Hakim, raising his voice over the noise of the Sufi’s invocations, “you stand accused of shunning me and insulting my name. Many times I have summoned you to appear, but you have resisted. As with other holy men of God, I have sought your counsel by offering bouquets of narcissus, but you have spurned them. Now here you stand before me, asking God for kindness and protection. And I am still being patient!”