Authors: Raḍwá ʻĀshūr
3. Abu 'Ali al-Husayn, b. 'Abdallah Ibn Sina (d. 1037), a philosopher of Persian origin who combined Aristotelian and neo-Platonic theories with Islamic mysticism. His
Qanun
is a voluminous medical encyclopedia.
If her mother or her grandmother, or even Maryama who knew about her book buying, had any idea how she obtained Ibn al-Baytar's
al-Jami'
4
and how much she paid for it, they would accuse her of being insane. Her mother would most likely faint upon hearing it. The day the book with all its parts was brought to her, she held it to her bosom and her heart beat so fast that it felt like it was breaking free from the prison walls of her chest and dancing its way out uninhibitedly. What's money when you have such an encyclopedia that details the effects of every herb and plant? The wise man is he who buys, and the fool is the one who sells, like those who squander their days and nights racking their brains in an attempt to transform cheap metals into gold. And even if they succeeded, what have they accomplished, since death lurks about, dispatching its emissaries to pierce the walls with fatal diseases, only to make its appearance to strike down and crush the body under the hooves of his stampeding horses? They haven't succeeded, but merely wasted their lives and their minds.
Saleema was now so bullheadedly certain that illness was in the body. But the thing that subordinated the body to it, that animated it, what could it be, from where did it come, and where did it go? These questions tormented her, but she never lost her resolve. She brought these questions into the realm of her daily research on the many diseases that afflict the body. She would stalk them and produce an array of effective weapons, seeking inspiration from her books and burying herself in her experiments. Her pots, jars, vials, and trunks were full to the brim with fresh and dry herbs, mixtures, ointments, and medicines that sometimes cured and other times failed. She smiled in satisfaction, but never forgot completely the bitterness that sat crouched in the corner of her heart, a bitterness of knowing that any victory she achieved was only partial because death can at any moment unleash its powerful sword and flash its victorious smile.
4. Ibn al-Baytar was born in Malaga and died in 1248. His work
al-Jami'
is a medical compendium.
16
M
aryama was famous throughout the neighborhood for her amazing surprises. Her natural intelligence always came to her rescue with good, quick thinking that transforms the bitterness the weak feel when subjugated by the powerful into uproarious laughter, when the tables are turned and the strong becomes weak and the weak holds the upper hand. The neighborhood women exchanged stories without ever tiring of what Maryama said or what Maryama did. Why not, since every story about her filled them with joy and entertainment that filled the drudgery of their lives with humor and laughter.
The latest story to circulate among the women concerned Maryama's visit to the schoolmaster at the missionary school to convince him that Arab boys are born "like that," telling him, "And if you don't believe me, sir, then ask any one of these little boys to pull down his trousers and you can see for yourself. This is the way we Arabs are made, with thick black hair and, please don't be offended, deprived of that little extra thing your boys are born with."
Maryama had made the visit after one of her neighbors came crying to her and seeking her advice when her six-year-old boy slipped on the ground while playing and his private parts were exposed. It just so happened that the schoolmaster was standing close by, and when he saw what he saw he flew off the handle. He vowed to notify the authorities at the Office of Inquisition so that they would punish the boy's family for violating the law. Maryama
calmed the woman down and reassured her, "There's nothing to worry about. I'll take care of it." On the following day, Maryama went to the school and requested a meeting with the schoolmaster. When she told him what she told him, he shot her a dismissive smile and asked in a stern tone of voice, "Are you trying to mock me?"
"Why would I try to mock you?" answered Maryama with confidence and resolve. "I'm telling you the truth that you don't know because you're a Castilian and you don't know much about Arabs. And because you're a schoolmaster, it pains me that some Arabs may mock you and accuse you of being ignorant. But if you would be so kind as to come and visit us at home, my husband will be more than happy to show you our son's private parts and you'll find it exactly like all the other children even though he's only three years old. I can also bring you to a neighbor of mine who just delivered a baby boy two days ago, and you will see the same thing. Or, if you prefer, go into the classroom right now and ask the children to expose themselves to you, and you'll be convinced what I'm telling you is true."
The schoolmaster was somewhat taken aback by this woman who was sitting in front of him, speaking with such confidence and force of conviction that he surmised she was telling the truth. But to clear any doubt from his mind, he got up and went into the classroom and ordered the boys to lift up their shirts and pull down their trousers. His eyes rotated from one boy to the next and what he saw was a repetition of the same thing. They differed in size or thickness, and some were crooked and others round-tipped. But the boys were similar in that they all lacked, without exception, what the lady called "that little extra thing." He instructed the boys to cover themselves and he left the class. He went back to the lady who was waiting for the results of the examination. Before he could utter a word about what he had discovered, she blurted out with a satisfied look on her face:"Didn't I tell you? And you didn't believe me! You didn't find a single boy different from the others, right? Now, you must believe me, sir, that just as your skin tends to be white and our skin is darker, your boys are born with that little extra thing and our boys are not, unfortunately."
"But I heard that Arabs circumcise their children?" he muttered somewhat sheepishly.
"That's correct. In the old days we used to circumcise girls. But that was a mistake and we mended our ways. But the boys, well, how do we circumcise them?"
Maryama arose from her seat and the schoolmaster bade her farewell, thanking her with profuse apologies for the misunderstanding.
All of Albaicin had a good laugh for the next two weeks, but Hasan was not amused. Rather, he scolded her, telling her that she was putting herself in danger and threatening the safety of the family. "Don't rely on always being so lucky," he warned.
But she always seemed to come out of any predicament intact. She maneuvered her way through every situation with quick thinking and intelligence. The neighbors recounted the stories of her antics and they laughed, but not always without a tinge of apprehension: "What if good fortune abandoned Maryama?" The mere thought sent shivers down their spines, but they always laughed. They all loved her simply because she was Maryama, and because her actions gave them moments of pure joy. Many of them were indebted to her for helping them or their children out of a difficulty; God only knows how they would do it without her. These feelings of gratitude were not limited to friends and neighbors, but to people whom Maryama hardly knew at all. Such a situation would sprout an acquaintance and a visit that always blossomed into affection.
Maryama did not know the little boy or his family. She spotted him near the souk in Granada. He looked about eight years old. He was walking merrily with a beaming face, and he was reciting the feastday prayers that he undoubtedly heard from the grown-ups at group prayer meetings held on these days. He was chanting in a melodious voice, "Allah is great, Allah is great, Allah is great, there is no god but Allah. He was true to His promise, He gave victory to His army, and His enemies were defeated."
Maryama shot a look in every direction like a threatened hawk and spotted two Castilian guards and a few passersby. She ran toward
the boy and slapped him across the face. He was stunned and speechless as his eyes widened in shock. But he only started to cry when she grabbed him by the hand forcefully and started to scream at him in Spanish.
"Didn't I warn you about playing with the Arab children? Now here you are learning sinful things from them!"
Maryama continued her shouting, bemoaning her bad luck, as people gathered around her including the two guards. She began to address the crowd.
"Tell me, what can we do? Isn't there a way to protect our children from those evil people? Here you see before you my son, the fruit of my womb, and me, a pure-blooded Castilian woman, and he's singing Arabic songs and saying 'Allah is great'!"
She turned around and started to scold the boy once again when some of the people tried to calm her down, saying that he was only a little boy who doesn't realize what he's saying. Maryama noticed a man from Albaicin whom she knew, and in his eyes she saw a gleam that encouraged her to go on with the trick she was playing on the Castilians. One of the passersby reprimanded the boy, while a guard patted him on the head and spoke to Maryama. "Don't be so harsh with him. He's still young, and he doesn't understand what he's doing."
The boy was terrified, and he had no idea what was happening to him. She took him by the hand and walked away. On the way back home she asked, "Where do you live, son?"
He stammered and then he answered.
She brought him back to his mother. "You should teach your children to be more careful outside the house," she advised.
Maryama did exactly what Hasan wanted her to do in raising the children. At home they spoke Arabic and they lived their daily lives as their fathers and grandfathers had lived. But on the street and in school they spoke Spanish, and they conducted themselves in the manner prescribed by the authorities and the Office of Inquisition. This is what Hasan wanted, and this is what Maryama carried out, but in her own way.
"Whoever speaks Spanish at home or does what the Castilians do will turn into a baboon."
"Has any child ever been turned into a baboon before, Mummy?"
"Many have. Tomorrow, I'll take you to the market and show you the baboons and how their owners make money off of them. The poor things, they used to be children each with a face like the moon, then they all turned into baboons."
"And those who speak Arabic outside the house?"
"Whoever speaks Arabic outside or reveals one word of what goes on inside the house will be lost on the street, and won't be able to find his way home. He'll wander from one neighborhood to the other unable to find his house, as though it vanished into thin air."
Maryama did her best to cope with the times, and her days, although fraught with worries, were bearable and sometimes happy because her heart was strong and full of love for her children and husband. She didn't dwell much on his behavior, and she learned how to find excuses and justifications for his angry outbursts. She told herself he was putting on this harsh facade, and that his overprotection, which some saw as weakness and lack of courage, was nothing more than his attempt to secure the safety of his family and shield them from problems. Sometimes she felt him distant and distracted. And when he was present, she noticed that he would easily become annoyed with the children or with her as though they had all become a nuisance he tried to avoid. She thought to herself that he didn't want her or her children, and she was entrapped by the thought that some other woman had stolen his heart, and that he had returned in a rage against his life with her. These thoughts nearly consumed her, but she would shake them off as lies, seeking solace in the memory of other moments when she saw clearly Hasan's intimacy and affection that revealed his tender heart. Then she would blame herself for increasing his burden in these difficult times.
It was a visit that brought nothing good. Her two brothers knocked on the door at sunrise. She put on her clothes and she and Hasan followed them out. Her father had died during the night. Maryama lifted the sheet over his face, looked at him, and covered him again. She stood over him for a long time, motionless as though her soul had retreated and her body had broken down. Then the tears poured out.
"We will do what's befitting us and him," insisted her brothers. "Let the Castilians go to hell!" Hasan tried to caution them not to rush into anything in order to avoid problems. But the brothers were adamant. Maryama was too grief stricken to say anything.
They washed Abu Ibrahim's body, wrapped it in a shroud, and escorted the corpse in procession from the house, through the alleyways, to the secret mosque where they recited prayers over him, and then brought him to the graveyard to bury him. That evening, the mourners gathered and the brothers took turns reciting the Quran. The voices reverberated throughout the neighborhood with the relentless sounds of longing.
On the third day of mourning, Maryama returned home. By week's end, the Castilians had forced their way into her father's house and arrested her mother and brothers. She wondered where they took them and what they would do to them. Would the Office of Inquisition stop at staging a public trial and imposing a fine, or perhaps a mere sentence of a year or two in prison? Or would they take it further? Would she ever see them again, or would life for all of them come to an end without ever having their eyes meet one more time?
Maryama had no recourse but to regularly attend the auto-dafé processions, thinking she might see her mother or one of her brothers, or perhaps all of them together. She indulged in the hope that they would be found innocent or simply be obliged to pay a fine. She even wished that they might get off with being paraded in the sanbenito, the robe of penitents, or even be forced to perform the ceremonial circumambulation with a donkey, or have their names inscribed on a banner and hung in public to remind the neighbors of their sins and penance.