The Tree Stump: An Arabic Historical Novel
206
The Tree Stump: An Arabic Historical Novel
206Paperback(1)
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781611862782 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Michigan State University Press |
| Publication date: | 07/01/2019 |
| Series: | Arabic Literature and Language |
| Edition description: | 1 |
| Pages: | 206 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 1.30(d) |
About the Author
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CHAPTER 1
Wisdom has built her house. She has hewn out her seven pillars ...
— Proverbs 9:1
Happy is the man who finds wisdom And the man who gains understanding; ... She is more precious than rubies, And all the things you may desire cannot compare with her ... Her ways are ways of pleasantness, And all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life ...
— Proverbs 3:13–18
Like a column of smoke, he stepped with his splendid figure out of the darkness of the cave into the glaring sunlight; his eyes did not blink. They thought that he must have lost his sight after spending long years in the darkness of the cave; otherwise, how could he withstand all this brightness without batting an eye! Nothing made him leave his seclusion, and now a strong inner calling was bringing him out.
His appearance surprised the crowd at the camp and made them wonder what happened. A man whispered in another's ear, "Nothing brings the sage out of his cave but trouble!"
The sage retreated to the cave in protest when the soldiers detained three of the town's brave men and took them away to Istanbul prison following al-Shobak revolt against the Turkish gendarmerie. At that time, the men climbed up the walls of the castle like Jinn and instructed the women of the tribe to stop providing the soldiers with water.
The story of the bravery of the three young men and the sage's stand with them continue to be retold until this day. The men who were young boys when the event took place, relayed, "He bravely climbed to the peak of the mountain and walked to the rift inspiring the fighters. When the soldiers took them away shackled, he walked with steady steps into the cave, in protest, and stayed there. When he first entered, the cave was flooded with light that no one knew its source. The slimy, gray, ghostly creatures that occupied it fled as if they had been struck by lightning."
The women swore that they heard the creatures' screams while their bodies scrambled escaping through the entrance, leaving behind the place they occupied for ages for the sage who chose to dwell in it. Soon, the voices and the strange figures disappeared, and the sage was no longer roaming the wide desolate place they called home, teaching wisdom to its people, or stretching out his hand to bless the newborns; the same hand that often blessed the brave men, 'Auda, 'Ali, 'Abtan, 'Atash, Sobieh, Salem, 'Eid, Hamad, and al-Arshaf on their way to battle. It had been years since the sage came out and blessed anyone.
With his absence, men were worried that without his benedictions, their newborns would not grow to be strong fighters; the women were afraid that their sons would not become the glorious men they hoped that they would be. The midwives frequented the entrance of the cave seeking the blessings of the sage without daring to enter. They pleaded, "For God's sake, do not send us away empty-handed!"
The sage heard them but did not answer their calls. Only the shaikh's sister, 'Alia, was brave enough to enter the cave. She brought him food to keep his body and mind alive. The little girl with the big black eyes carefully walked into the dark cave looking for him, and when she saw his shadow in the dark, she stopped. When his hands touch her braids tenderly, she knew that she found him. She left the food her mother cooked for him next to the worn out mat he sat on and said with unfailing enthusiasm, "'Auda begs you to come back."
The sage continued to smile but did not answer or oblige.
What magic could unravel the secret of this wise man and bring him out of his seclusion to bless the brave men again?
Dayoud said, "This is only in God's hands. It is going to take a miracle."
Did such things ever happen anywhere else on earth?
The sage came out of his cave that morning when the sun was ascending the spacious sky; the women were elated and spread the glad tidings. The children ran out to see the legendary man that their mothers told stories about. He was over a hundred years old. He lived longer than God meant for humans to live and was still walking with the steady and confident steps of a young man!
He traversed the stretched rocky terrain, ascending Mount Meshhaq, his body covered with a long goat-hide coat over a black shepherd thaub, leaning on his staff when the road turned rugged and the descent was too sharp. Behind him walked a small curious, anticipating crowd.
When he reached the stretch of black gravel at the bottom of the hill and approached the endless desert, his figure intertwined with the shadows of the mirage over the scorched land, a desert not like any other. The shaikh motioned to the crowd to stop.
The sage was moving consciously and confidently with steady steps to his intended destination. The crowd stopped. The sage heard the clatter of the sharp volcanic rocks under the footsteps of his old leather sandals;he walked, guided by a strange mysterious force. Amid the haze of the boundless glaring desert, he saw a cloud. The clear blue sky stretched serenely over the horizon with a single cloud pushed gently by the wind. The sage placed his hand on his chest feeling the pulse of his eager heart, supporting his trembling feet with the steadiness of his staff planted deep in the desert sand beyond the thin layer of dark flint gravel.
The caravan approached, the camels moving slowly, and the summer cloud cast its shade over the heads of the walking men and beasts — three men, four camels, and a mare. The sage stood motionless, and the caravan drew closer to the man that seemed planted in the middle of the hazy desert; the sound of their movement echoed through the desolate land.
"Whose dwellings are these, brother?"
"God's dwellings."
"Blessed be God."
The strangers covered with the dust of Sinai, fatigued by the long journey, slowed down by the heavy load on the backs of their camels, approached. The sage watched with great curiosity the movement of the cloud chiming with the steps of the riderless blond mare, just a heavy saddle on her back. The joy on the faces of the travelers at the sight of the sage showed their hope that they might have reached their destination after the long journey.
"Is this the dwelling of 'Auda, brother?"
Without saying a word, the sage walked toward the mare, touched her neck tenderly. Dazzled, he looked at the cloud and then into the big eyes of the mare, and said, "Purebred?"
"Yes. From both sides. We know that she is only worthy of a true rider."
It was the practice among some of the traveling merchants to go directly to Bedouin camps to trade and sell their products to avoid sharing their profits with an intermediary. The traders usually traveled alone, unless the journey was long and dangerous, then they would take a companion, a friend to help them deal with the hardship of the desert, and the terror its dwellers spread. Three men came all the way from Egypt and crossed the harsh terrain of Sinai loaded with goods, with their guns secured close to their chests, ready to be used, if needed, to protect them and their merchandise.
Joy flooded their exhausted faces when they came closer and saw the dignified old man, confident that such a man would not be out alone, in the open, unarmed, unless he felt safe. They had traveled enough to know that they were at the border of al-Jafar, the territory of 'Auda Abu Tayeh, the shaikh of al-Howeitat tribe. They were delighted to have reached their destination safe and went on congratulating each other. Meanwhile, the sage continued to stroke the neck of the sweating horse with the palm of his hand. While doing so, his hand touched the saddle. He looked inside, became consumed with emotions, and tears flooded down the creases of his aged face. His heart was pounding; a chill ran down his spine, and when he managed to catch his breath, he asked about the infant lying in the saddle of the purebred horse.
The three men nervously exchanged glances, seemed concerned, then one of them jumped next to the sage and said, "By God, we did not steal or commit any crime; we are not slave traders. Listen to what we have to say. It is up to you to believe us or not. It is the truth. Three of us left Egypt together, a merchant, a guide, and a peddler. We filled our bags with flour, sugar, and salt."
The peddler added, "We thought that, if we can catch falcons, we can sell them for gold."
They explained that, since the supplies were plentiful and the camels were young and strong, they moved through the desert toward al-Jouf leisurely, stopping as they pleased, enjoying the scarce sudden breezes that wafted by randomly. They stopped where they thought they could find falcons. To hunt, they set a net trap between two large rocks and covered its edges with mud after staking their pet crow and a dove as bait under the net, with a long string tied to the crow's foot. Then they hid behind the rocks and waited. They knew that the falcon had entered the trap when they heard the loud caw. They quickly pulled the long string attached to the crow's legs leaving the dove to its fate. As soon as the falcon dug his talons and sharp beak into the harmless dove, they pulled the rope to release the net over the sky-rider and trapped him. They caught three rare falcons and considered this a sign of a good and prosperous journey.
While traveling deep into al-Jouf, they met a caravan from Najd in the Arabian Peninsula. The shaikh of the caravan looked curiously at the four falcons. He examined them with great interest, looked at their curved beaks, and checked the sharp eyes shielded by small leather masks. He made an offer, but the peddler cunningly bargained, "They are not for sale. We are keeping them for Shaikh 'Auda; he will no doubt pay eight gold coins for each."
The Najdi shaikh raised his price, and the peddler continued to bargain realizing that the shaikh was in love with the falcons. Eager to get them, the shaikh quickly declared, "I will seal the deal with a thoroughbred horse."
The shaikh pointed to his men, and they brought out a horse with beautiful white stockings. The peddler took a deep breath and whispered to the merchant that he had no doubt that the horse was thoroughbred and that it was more valuable than all the falcons in the area put together. A deal was made. The Najdi shaikh believed that he tricked the merchants by giving them the horse, which had suddenly started sweating profusely, and he thought it was too sick and weak to make it all the way to Egypt. That is how the horse joined the caravan of a merchant, a guide, a peddler, and four camels.
"And the boy?"
"I am getting there, honored one. It is a story the like of which has never been told; and an event the like of which has never been seen; magical, like a dream at Laylat al-Qadr, the Night of Destiny. Our experienced hunter was the first to spot the falcon roaming the wide sky."
"My eyes never fail; it is a free wild tiercel, no doubt a great prize."
The merchant explained, "We were happy to see him but were surprised that he was flying so low. The hunter thought that there might be prey close to the surface that he was trying to catch, but the bird was not attacking and swiftly swooping down on his prey like he normally hunts. He was swirling over a designated area, not hunting. When we got closer, we saw a falcon, peculiarly lying on the bare ground."
The guide added, "I was sure that the falcon was no doubt sitting on her eggs!"
They further explained, "We were happy thinking of the price the rare birds and their young could fetch. That evening, the horse was out of control; it sighed and neighed violently, scaring us to death.
"We wondered what was wrong with her, and why she was sweating excessively. The peregrine tiercel flew away when the female bird rolled over her eggs. The men were shocked to see among them a large egg that looked more like an ostrich's egg shining under the bright orange sun.
"'This is not a falcon's egg.'"
"'It is something only God knows what it is ...'"
"The falcon lying on the egg moved a little, and the tiercel continued to fly high over the scene."
Then, the merchant explained, "A cloud appeared, and the horse started neighing nonstop. We did not know if she was happy that the cloud appeared and was shading us or frightened from the sound of the eggs breaking as if they were made of iron. The falcon flew away joining her mate and disappeared in the wide blue sky leaving the nest behind, unattended. Miraculously, under the cloud and between the shells, we found this infant. His first cry made the camels stand still, and the horse nickered and came close as if it were a tamed goat. We wondered what a blessing we received, or perhaps what a curse! What should we feed him? What should we give him to drink? Believe it or not, the cloud never left, and it is still here, testifying to the truthfulness of what we say."
The sage held the horse's reins, wrapped the young body with his abaya, pulled it close to his chest, and led them toward the camp.
'Auda cried with affection when he saw the boy and fell in love with the horse. He paid plenty of gold for the horse, and sternly announced in a thundering voice, killing any hope the merchants had to negotiate, "A free man can't be bought, and the boy is not a slave!"
The sage pulled the infant close to his wise heart and 'Auda went on saying, "Leave our land with your gold, the gold is no match to the thoroughbred horse, and leave the son of the falcons, the free can't be bought; this is the gift of the Almighty to our sage."
He then looked at the wise man and said, "This is your son, God's willing!"
Rain fell from the summer cloud that accompanied the newborn at the camp and left a bright rainbow behind. The sage looked at the infant's calm face and said, "Blessed are you, my son 'Oqab."
The sage carried 'Oqab to his cave showered by tender looks from the crowd. Shaikha 'Amsah, 'Auda's mother said, "Watching him melts the soul, not just the heart. Find out who among the most honored women of the tribe is with milk and ask her to go to the sage and feed the newborn."
The mother of every brave man in the tribe went to the sage; even those who were dry started to lactate, and the scent of milk filled the air in the campsite.
The shaikh watched his mother walk to the mare stroking her wet bangs and smiled, "Mother, al-Asilah is a thoroughbred horse. I leave her in your care, honor her like you honor my horse, al-Saqlaweyah." The status of the horse rose because the shaikh left her in the care of his mother who he entrusted with caring for his most beloved horse, al-Saqlaweyah.
'Amsah brought the mare out, walked with her through the crowd of gathered riders and called in excitement, "Glory be to God! Glory be to Him!"
Al-Saqlaweyah shook her head aggressively, and 'Amsah laughed and said, "Why are you jealous? This will be the bride of al-Abjar, your son."
That night, the brave rider Za'al returned riding al-Abjar, who rode like a lightning bolt despite Za'al's attempts to slow him down, scattering the gravel under his hooves all the way to where his mother was. He calmed down for a moment and then raised his head high again, sighed and groaned. His mother returned his call.
The poet, Abu al-Kabayer said, "Congratulations, Shaikh. Soon you will have al-Asilah's colts."
The shaikh was amused by the recent events that took place in his camp including the sage's coming out of his seclusion, the strange appearance of 'Oqab, the summer cloud that rained, the dry breasts that gave milk, and the body of al-Asilah constantly sweating and shinning like a bright jewel. All of this did not derail his plan to raid Bani Sakhr at Wadi al-Sewagah. The tribe knew his plans and were getting ready with their bravest men to face al-Howeitat, metal meeting metal.
A full moon rose above the dark horizon accompanied by the Pleiades. 'Amsah looked at the sky and sighed, then walked toward the horse stalls, guided by her familiarity with the path, watching with tenderness the tent of her son, the shaikh. The fire was still burning; the night breeze carried to her the voices of the gathered men. Her heart was full of love for her son; she wished to hold him tight, bid him farewell, and ask him to take care of himself.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Tree Stump"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Nesreen Akhtarkhavari.
Excerpted by permission of Michigan State University Press.
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