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: ROAD

Asad

ISBN: 81-7231-160-5

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THEROAD

Muhammad Asad

1,lamlclook 5ertice

Tomywife
POLAHAlDA

Who through ond odvice

gove 50much of her wi5eheo rt to thi5 book
thot her oughtto hove
the title pogetogether with li

CONENS
Glossary The Story of
I
11 111

pagexi Story

10

Thirst Beginning ofthe Road Winds

Voices

42
68

102
135
162
183
218

IV

V
VI VII VIII
'

Spirit and Flesh Dreams M(jway Jinns Persian letter Dajjal Jihad EndoftheRoad Jndex

249

282
312
344

XI XII

377

GLOSSARY
/
SPELLING has kept a~ close as possible to the original ciation, avoidil1g, at the same time, all signs and symbols which would unnecessarily confuse the ' reader..Terms which occur in only place and explained in the text have omitted .

obiiyo -

\vide, woollen cloak worn

Arabs

all their other gar

ments.

ogoy/ - voJuntary, irregular troops recruited from Central

service in Iraq, Syria and Jordan. 0/- - definite articJe 'the' used before nouns and names. If the noun begins with the d, 11, , , t , tJ1e / of 0/ is 'assimilated' in sound: e.g., Ad-Dawish, Az-Zuwayy. cmil' - ' who holds authority', e.g., governor, ruler, , etc. d'i(l. bodu) - beduin. rmilliih - 'in the of God' - hooded cIoak worn North fi Arabs and Berbers. d/IOII...; LatilHigged saiJing vesseJ largely used il1,the S, the Persian Gulf and (mostly under the samhuk) in the Red Sea. []! (Persian [, jarangi) - . .fe//ah (pl. jellobln) - peasant farmer. go//abiyya - long, shirt1ike tunic worn in Egypt and some other countries. /lOjj - piJgrimage to , of the duties enjoined Muslin1 and woman to undertake it. i; - \ is making has made the pilgrimage to ; often used as title. /101'0111 - 'sanctuary', especially the l Mosques of , Medina and Jerusalem. (Not ( confused with horiim, \ means 'for bidden religion'.)
.

GLOSSARY

ltazrat - 1it., 'presence'; term of address roughly cquivalent to 'youlr .

Honour'. before , '' of'. Frequently used in eonjunc-. tion with the of ancestor, in wblch case the combinatiol1l denotes family , tbe of dynasty, e.g., I Saud" I Rasbld. igiil- ropelike headband encircling theArabian headeloth.lt is usu ally made of pJain bIaek wooJ, but is sometimes threaded with gilded silver . ihra - '.vblte garment worn piJgrimage to . ikh",on - 'brethren', app1ied to beduins settJed and organized i I Saud. ima - 'Ieader'; partieuJarly applied to thc leader eongre gational , but lso to outstanding scholars earlier times and to Jeader community. inshiiAl/oh - 'God wig'. jaob-i-o/i- fi term of address used in Persian-speaking tries. jard - blanketlike woollen wrap worn in western Egypt and Libya. jid - Holy War in defence Islam MusJim 1iberty. jubba - wide, ankle-Iength mantle worn many welJ-t-d eity l, and most the /, in Egypt, Syria, ijaz, (raq, (,
iIr - ;
.

kajton - 10!. fitted gown worn throughout the Middle East under jubba )'. kha/i/a - Iit., 'suceessor' 'vice-gerent'; usual1y denoting the head the Muslim (''). khan - originally the title of l lord; nowadays widely used as honorifie designation in I, Afghanistan, ete. kufiYYQ - men's headcloth. maghrib - sunset. marhaba - welcome. mu'azzin - the time for . mujhid (pl. mujhidin) - n who fights in jihiid. argi/e - eJaborate pipe for smoking tobacco, in whieh the smoke is fi1tered through water; in countries it is al50 called 'hookah'. qodi - judge.

GLOSSARY

coffec; in Arab countries often app1ied al50 to colfechouse reception . ra.iaji/- --, uall the bodyguard5 king ! amir. i)' - the basic 5ilver coin in several Middle-Ea5tem countries. sayyid -Iit., 'Iord'. Frequently used to denote descendant thc Prophet. sh'1rif- same above. In particular app/icd to certain u51im ruling dynastie5; in thi5 book to ing Husayn, who ruled ! thc ijaz from 1916 to 1924, and 5 descendants, the present dynasties Iraq and Jordan. s/ll'1ykh -Iit. 'old '; title widely used 10 dcnotc tribal clueftain5 well as notables and (in Arabic-speaking countries) :scholars. shl'lyUkh - 'majestic plural' sha)'kh,' designation applied in tral r to the ing and, oc:casionaJ/y, to his grcate5t amirs. sidi - colloquial ! s)'i, ' lord' - term especially in North f. > section, ! chapter, the , which is divided into 114

qa,~wa -

;rUras.

red, brim/es5 hat worn men ll over ( Levant. scholars, ! learned . Especially applied ( religious scholars. but often used also ! those leamed [ othcr branchcs Ik.nowledge. ''di - rivcr vaJley ! dry river bed. -intcrjection equivalent to '' used in direct address (e.g., sidi, " lord'; Al/dh, ' God'). zdlO11iya - lodge religious ! fraternity.
u[lll -

I'S/' -

STORY OF

STORY

STORY 1 going tell in this book is not the autobiography of conspicuous for bls role in public affairs; it is not narrative of adv.ellture - for although strange adventures have way, they were never than an accompaniment to w.t w happening within ; it is not evcn the story of deli!Jerate search for faith - for that faith , over the years, "vitboutany endeavour part to find it. storyis simply t,he story of European's discovery of Islam and of his integra l:ion within the Muslim community. 1 had never thought of writing it, for it had not occurred to that life might of particular interest to anyone except myself. But when, after absence of twenty-five years from the 'West, 1 to Paris and then to NewYork in the beginning 1952,1 was forced to alter this view. ~erving as Pakistan's Mini :ster Plenipotentiary to the United Nations, 1 was natural1y in the public and encountercd great deal of curiosity among European and Arnerican friends and acquaintances. At first they assumed that mine was the case of European 'expert' ployed Eastern government for specific purpose, and that 1 had conveniently adapted myself to the ways the which 1 was serving; but wheo activities at the United Na tions made it obvious that 1 ideotified rnyself oot merely tionally' but also and intel1ectually with the political and cultural aims of the usli world in general, they somewhat perplexed. More and l began to questioo about past expericnces. to koow that very early in life 1 had started career as foreign correspon dent Cor Continental newspapers and, after several years of tensive travels throughout the Middle East, had Mus lim in 1926; that after conversion to Islam 1 lived Cor nearly sixyears in Arabia and enjoyed the friendship of ing Ibn Saud; that after leaving r [went to India there met the great 1

Muslim poet-philosopher and spiritual father of the Palcist,liO idea, Muhammad Iqbal. It was who soon persua~ed to give plans of travelling to Eastern Turkestan, aJld Indonesia and to remain in India to help elucidate the intelloo:. tual premises of the future Islamic state which was then hardly more than dream in Iqbal's visionary mind. , to Iqbal. this dream represented way. indeed the ooly way, to revival of the dormant hopes of Islam. the creation of political tity of people bound together not mm descent but their adherence to ideology. For years 1devoted self to this ideal, studying, writing and lecturing. and in gained something of reputation as interpreter of Islamic la'N and culture. When Pakistan was established in 1947,1 was called its Government to organize and direct Department of Islamic Reconstruction, which was to elaborate the ideologicail, Islamic concepts of statehood and community which the newly rn political organization might draw. After t\VO years of this extremely stimulating activity, 1 transferred to the Pakistall Foreign Service and was appointed Head of the Middle East Division in the Foreign Ministry, where 1 dedicated myself strengthening the ties between Pakistan and the rest of the lim world; and in due course 1 found myself in Pakistan's Mis.. sion to the United Nations at New York. this poioted far than outward tion of to uslim community in which pened to live: it rather indicated , wholehearted transference of gian from cultural environment to other, entirely different . And this appeared very strange to most of Westem friends. could not quite picture to themselves how of Western birth and upbringing could so fully, and apparently with mental reservations what , identified himself \vith the Muslim world; how it had possible for i to exchange his Western cultural hg for that of Islam; and what it ~vas that had made him accept ligious and social ideology which - they seemed to take for gran ted - was vastlyinferior to European concepts. Now why, 1 asked myself, should Western friends take this so readily for granted? Had of them bothered to gain direct insight into Islam - or ,vere their opinions based ml the handful of cliches and distorted notions that had

 STOR. STOR.

handed down to them from previous generations? CouJd it perhaps that the old Graeco-Roman mode thought which divided the world into Greeks and Romans side and ' barians' the other wa5 5till 50 thoroughly ingrained in the

Westem mind that it was unabIe to concede, even theoretically, positive value to anything that lay outside its own cultural-orbit? Ever since Greek and Roman ti, European thinkers and hiistorians have prone to contemplate the history of the vld from the standpoint and "in terms of history and 'Westem cultural experieoces alone. Non-Westem civilizations enter the picture only in so far their exis1ence, particular roovements within them, have or had direct infiuence the clestinies of Western ; and thus, in Western eyes, the history ofthe world and its various cultures amounts in the last resort to Iitt1e than expanded history of the West. Naturally, such narrowed angle vision is bound to produce distorted perspective. Accustomed as is to writings which depict the culture or discuss the probIems of his own civilization in great detail and in vivid colours, with litt1e than side g1ances here .and there at the rest of the world, the average JEuropean or American easily succumbs to the iIlusion that the ! experiences ofthe West merely superior but out I:)f proportion to those of the rest of the world; and thus, that 1the Westem way of lif is the only va1id which other 'ways of lif could adjudged - implying, of course, that every iintellectual , social institution or ethical valuation that disagrees with the Western 'r' belongs ::;. ipso to lower :gradeofexistence. Following in the footstep~ of ( Greek$ and Romans, the Occidentallikes to think that all those 'other' civili zations are or were only so stumb1ing experiments the path of progress so unerringly pursued the \Vest; or, at best (as in the case of the 'ancestor' civilizations which preceded that of the modern West in direct line), more than consecutive chapters in and the same book, of \ Westem civiliza tion is, of cour5e, the final chapter. When 1 expC'unded this view to cin American friend of mine considerable intellectual attainments and scholarly bent of mil1d - \vas somewhat sceptical at first. 'Granted,' said, 'the ancient Greeks and Romans ' lim ited in their approach to foreign civilizations: but was not this

ROAD

limitation the inevitable r~u1vof difficu1ties ofcommunication between them and the reSt ofthe wor1d? And has not this diffi cu1ty 1arge1y overcome in modern times? Afterall, we Wes temers do m ourselves nowadays with what is going outside our own cu1tural orbit. Aren't you forgetting the books ahout Orientalart d pbl10sophy that been ] lished in Europe and America during t11e 1ast quarter-century ... about the politica1 ideas that preoccupy the minds of peop1es? Sure1y one cou1d not with justice over100k this desire the part of Westerners to understand what other might to offer1' ' . extent you right,' 1 replied. 'There is littlle doubt that the primitive Graeco-Roman out100k is 10nger fully operati.ve these days. 1ts harshness has considerabIly blunted - if for other , because the mature amorlg Western thinkers grown disi11usioned and sceptica1 abolJt aspects of their own civilization and \ begin to 100k to other parts of the wor1d for cu1tura1 inspiration. Upon some them it is dawning that there not n1 book and story of human progress, but m: simp1y because mankind, in the historica1 , is not homogeneous entity, but rather variety of groups with wide1y divergent ideas as to the iJ~ and purpose of human life. St. 1 do not fee1 that the West has really. 1ess condescending toward foreign cu1tures than the Greeks and Romans were: it has 1 to1erant. Mind , not toward Islam - 1 to\vardcertain other Eastern -, which offer some sort of siit11 attraction to the spirit-hungry West and , at the same time, too distant frOJD the Westem wor1d-view to constitute 1 challenge to it.s va1ues.' 'What do you that?'
'Well: 1 answered, 'when Westerner discusses, say, Hindu . ism or Buddhism, he is always conscious of the fundamenta1 dil ferences bet\veen these ideo10gies and his own. admil'e this or that oftheir ideas, but \vou1d naturallynever consider tb,e possibility of substituting them for his own. Because prioj~i admits this impossibi1ity, is to contemp1ate such really alien cu1tures with equanimity and often with sympathetic preciation. But when it comes to Islam - which is meaD,S as to Western va1ues Hindu or Buddhist phi10sophv

STOR OF

STOR

thiis Western equanimity is almost invariably disturbed bias. Is it , 1 sometimes wonder, tlle values of Islam close enough to those the West to consti tute potential challenge to many Wst spiritual arnd social life l' And 1 went to tell him theory w!1ich 111ad conceived years ago - theory that D1ight perhaps help one to stand better the deep-seated prejudice against Islam 50 often to found in Western literature and contemporary thought. ' find truly convil1cing explanation this prcjudice,' 1 ~lid, ' has to look back\vard into history and try to prehend the p5ychological background ! the ear1icst relations between the Western and the Musiim worlds. What Occidentals tJ1ink and l about Islam today i5 rooted in impressions that V\rere born during the Crusades.' ' Crusades!' exclaimOO friend. 'You don't to say tbat what nearly thousand years ago cou1dstil1 have efl'ect l the twentieth century 7' 'But it does! 1 know it sounds incredible; but don't you rnember the incredu1ity which greeted the early discove~ies ! the psychoanalysts when they triOO show that much of the tionallife mature person - and most ! those seemingly accountable leanings, tastes and prejudices comprised in the t:erm "idiosyncrasies"- traced back to the experiences ofhis most formative age, his early chi1dhood7 Well, are nations and c:ivilizations anything but collective individuals 7 Their develop ime'nt also is bound with the ! their early chi1d od. As with children, those experiences plea unpleasant; they have perfectly rational , altematively, due to the child's naive misinterpretation an event: the mou/ding effect every such depends pri marily its original intcnsity. century inunediately pre ceding th~ Crusades, thnt i:i, the end ! the first millennium ! the Christian cra, might well described as tlle early childhood Western civilization ... ' 1 proceeded to remind friend - himself historian - that tbls had been the age when, for the first time since the dark cen turies that followed the breakup oflmperial Rome, Europe was beginning to its own cultural \vay. Independent1y ! the al most. forgotten Roman heritage, raew literatures were just then
]

ROAD

coming into existence in the vernaculars; inspired! the religious experience of Western Christianity, arts \\rere slowly awakening from the lethargy caused the warlike migra tions of the Goths, Huns and Avars; out of { conditions of the early Middle Ages, new cultural \vorld was emerging. It was at that critical, extremely sensitive stage of its development that received its most formidable shock - in modern [, 'trauma' - in the shape the Crusades. 1 Crusades were the strongcst collecti\'e impression civilization that had just begun to conscious itself. ically speaking, they represented Europe's earlies~ - and entirely successful - attempt { view jtself under the aspect of cultural unity. Nothing that has experienced bcfore after could with the enthusiasm which { First Crusa.de brought into being. wave ! intoxication swept over the tinent, elation which [ the first time overstepped the barriers between states and tribes and classes. Before then, there Franks and Saxons and Germans, Burgundians and Siciliarls, Normans and Lombards-a medley of tribes and races with l anything in but the fact that most tlleir ! kingdoms and principalities were the Roman Empire and that of them professed the Christian faith: but in the Crusades, and through {, the religious bond w'as elevated ne\V l, cause to Europeans alike - the tico-religious concept ! 'Christendom', whicll in its turn ga,'e birth to the cultural concept ''. When, in his famous speech at Clermont, in November, 1095, Urban II horted the Christians to make \var the 'wicked ' that he1d the l Land, enunciated - without knowing it himself - the charter of Western civilization. he traumatic cxperience ! the Crusades gave i15 cul tural awareness and its unity; but this same experience was des tined henceforth also to provide the false l0 in which Islam was to to Western eyes. Not simply because the Crusade:s rneant war and bloodshed. So \\'ars have waged 00 tween nations and subsequently forgotten, and so animos ities which in their time seemed ineradicable have later turnecl into friendships. dam~ge caused the Crusades was not restricted to c1ash of weapons: it \vas, first and foremost, !1: intcHectual damage - the poisoning of the Western mi.nd against

STORY

STORY

th'e Muslim world through deliOOrate misrepresentation of the teachings and ideals of Isl. For, if-the 11 for crusade was to maintain its validity, the Prophet of the Muslims had, of neces sit:y, to stamped as the Anti-Christ and bls religion depicted in the most lurid terms as fount of irnmorality and perversion. It was at the time of the Crusades that the ludicrous notion that Is:lam was religion of crude sensua1ism and brutal violence, of observance of ritual instead of purification of the heart, tered the Western mind and remained there; and it was then that tlle of the Prophet Muhammad - the same Muhammad w:ho had insisted that bls own followers respect the prophets of ol.her religions - \vas contemptuously transformed Euro into 'Mahound'. he age when the spirit of independent inquiry could raise its head was as yet Car distant in Europe; it was easy for the powers-that-were to sow the dark seeds hatred for religion and civilization that was so different f thle religion and civilization ofthe West. hus it was accident thlat t}le fiery Chason de Roland, wblch describes t~e legendary victory of Christendom over the Muslim 'heathen',in southem , was sd not at the those es but three later - to wit, shortly before the First Crusade - ditl to kind of'national th' ofEurope; and it is accident, either, that tbls warlike epic marks the OOgin ng of literature, as distinct f the earlier, 10cal iz:ed literatures: for hostility toward Isl stood over the cradle : El1ropean civilization. It would seem irony of history that the age-old Western re s<:ntment against Isl, wblch was religious in origin, should sljl1 persist subconsciously at time when religion has 10st most of its hold the imagination of Westem . s, howevet, is not really surprising. We know that person ltl lose the religious beliefs imparted to him in his childhood wblle, nevertheless, s particular ti connected with those 00 liefs remains, irrationally, in force throughout his later Hfe - . - and tbls,' I concluded, 'is precisely what happened to that collective personality, Western civilization. he shadow ofthe Crusades hovers over the West to ts day; and 11 its reactions toward Islam and the Muslim world distinct traces of that die-hard ghost ... ' friend remained silent for long time. 1 sti1l see his

TH.r~ROAD

tall, Ianky figure pacing and down the , bls hands in his coat pockets, shaking his head as if puzzled, and finaBy saying: ' m something in what say ... indeed, , although 1 m not in position to judge "theory" offhand . .. But in any , the light what yourseIf have just told , don't reaIize that 1ife, \ to seems so very simple and uncomplicated, ! very strange and unusual to Westerners? Could not perhaps share some of own experiences with th!? Why don't write your autobiography? 1 sure it would make fascinating reading!' Laughingly 1 rep1ied: 'WeB, 1might perhaps let myself suadcd to Ieave the Foreign Service and write such book. Aftc:r , writing is originaI profession ... ' In the follo\ving weeks and months joking response imper ceptibly lost the aspect joke. 1 began to tblnk serio.usly about setting down tlle story and thus helping, in however small measure, to Iift the heavy veiI which separates Islam its culture the Occidental mind. way to IsIam had in respects unique: 1 had not Muslim because 1 had lived for long time among Muslims - the contrary, 1 decided to live among them because 1 had embraced Islam. Might 1 , communicating very personal experiences to Western readers, contribute to mutual understanding tween the Islamic and Westem worlds than 1 could .. uing in diplomatic position which might filled equaIly weH other countrymen min? After alI, any itIligtI could Pakistan's Minister to the United Nations - but ho",r were to talk to Westemers about Islam 1 could? 1 was Mus1im - but 1 was also of Western origin: and: thus 1 could speak the intelIectual languages both Islam and the West ... And so, toward the end of 1952, 1 resigned from the Pakistan Foreign Service and started to write this book. Whether it is as 'fascinating reading' as American friend anticipated, 1 not say. 1 could do more than try to retrace from memory with the help of l fe\vold notes, disjointed diryti and some the ne\vspaper articles 1 had written at the time - the 18n gled lines development that stretched over years and over vast expanses geographical space.

STORY OF

STORY

And here it is: not the story of 1l life, but only of the 1 left for Ir.dia - those exciting ycars in travels through almost the countries bctwecn the Libyan and the snow-covered peaks of the Pamirs, bet\vecl1 the Bosporus and the Arabian Sea. lt is told in tl1e contcxt and, it should kept in mind, 11 tl,e !el'e! of last desert journey from the interior of Arabia to in the late summer of 1932: f: it was during those twenty-three days tllat the pattern of fuHy apparent to myself. 1 Arabia dei')icted in the f01l0wing pages 110 longer exists. lt8 80litude and integrity crumbled under strong gush of oil and the gold that the oil has brought. its grcat simplicity has vanished and, with it" that \as humanly unique. lt is with ttle pain feels for something precious, now irretrievably 105t, that 1 remember that J,ast, long desert trek, when we rode, , two two dromedaries, through swirnming 1ight ...

THIRST
-1 E , , two two dromedaries, the sun flames over our heads, everything is shimmer and glimmer and swimming light. Reddish and orange-coloured dunes, dunes behil1d dunes beyond dunes, loneliness burning si1ence, and two m two dromedaries in that swinging gait which makes you sleepy, that you forget the day, the sun, the hot wind and the 10ng way. Tufts of yellow grass grow sparsely the crests of the , and and there gnl hamdJ, bushes wind over the sand like giant snakes. Sleepy have the senses, you rocking in the saddle, you perceive hardly anything beyond the crunching of the sand under the camels' soles and the rub of the saddle-peg against the crook of your knee. our face is wrapped in headcloth for protection against sun and wind; and you feel as if you were carrying your wn [, like tangible substance" across it, right across it .. to the wells of ... to the~ dark wells of that give \vater to that is thirsty ... '... right across the Nufud to .... 1 voice, and do not know whether it is dream-voice the voice of

pani.

'Didst thou say something, Zayd l' '1 was saying,' replies , 'that not people would venture right across the Nufud just to see the wells of ...' retuming f Qasr Athaymin the Najd-Iraq frontier where 1 went at the request of i! Ibn Saud. aving accomplished mission and with plenty of leisure time at disposal, 1 decided to visit the remote, ancient oasis ofTayma, ncarly two hundred miles to the southwest: the ma of the Old Testament of which Isaiah said, ' inllabitants of
10
ZAYD AND I

THIRST

))

tl~e land of brought water to him that was thirsty: The

abundance of ' water, its huge wells which have like
il:1 Arabia, p,ade it in pre-Islamic days great centre of trade and seat of early Arabian culture. l have long wanted to see it; and , disregarding the circuitolls caravan routes, we struck, from Athaymin, right into the heart of the Great Nufud, the reddish sand desert that 5tretches itself 50 rnightily tletv.'een the higb.lands of Central Arabia and the Syrian Desert. lhere is track and path in this part of the tremendous 'tvasteland. wind sees to it tl1at foo15tepof or animal leaves lasting trace in the soft, yielding sand and that land Inark stands out for long to guide the wayfarer's . Under the sttokes of the wind the dunes incessantly change their outlines, flowing in 510w, imperceptible movement from forrn ( forrn, Jlills ebbing into valleys and valleys growing into new hills dotted 'N'ith dry, less grass that faintly rustles in the wind and is bltter as ashes even to camel's mouth. Although 1 have crossed this desert times in direc , 1 would not trust myself to find way through it aided, and therefore 1 glad to have Zayd with . his try here is his homeland: belongs to the tribe of Shammar, who live the southem and eastem fringes ofthe Great Nufud and, when the heavy winter rains suddenly transfonn the dunes into lush meadows, graze t4eir came1s in its midst for Jrew months ofthe year. he moods of the desert are in Zayd's IbJood, and his ean 00815 with them. Zayd is probably the handsomest 1 have ever kno\\'n: Ibroad of forehead and slim of body, middle-sized, fine-boned, (ll ofwiry strength. Over.the narrow wheat-coloured face with iits strongly moulded cheekbones and the severe and at the time sensual mouth that expectant gravity \vhich i5 so char acteristic of the desert Arab - dignity and self-composure wed ,ded to intimate sweetness. is felicitous combination of pur lest beduin stock and Najdi town life, having preserved within himself the beduin's surel1:;SS' instinct \vithout the beduin's ,emotional ]ability, and acquired the practical wisdom of the townsman \vithout falling prey to his \vorldly sophistication. , 1ike myself, enjoys adventure \vithout running al'ter it. Since his earliest youth his life has been fillt:d \\'ith incident and excite ment: as boyish trooper in thc irr~'t:lar cam~' cop~ levicd

]2

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the Turkisb government for its campaign in the Sinai Peninsula during the Great War; defender of his Shammar hmld against Ibn Saud; arms-smuggler in the Persian Gulf; tempes tuous ]over ofmany women in parts ofthe r wor]d ( of them, ofcourse, legitimately married to at time other, then as ]egitimate]y divorced).; horsetrader in Egypt; so]dier of fortune in Iraq; and lastly, for nearly five years, 1 companion in r. And now, in this late summer of 1932, we ride togetber, as 80 often in the past, winding our lonesome way between dunes, stopping at or another of tbe widely wel1s and restil1lg at nigtJ,t under the stars; the etemal SJViS/I-swish of tbe animals' feet over the bot sand; sometimes, during tbe , Zayd"s husky voice ehanting in rbytbm witb the eame1s' tread; nigllt eamps, eooking coffee and rice and occasional wild game; thle l s\veep of ( wind over our bodies as we li at nigbt th,e sand; sunrise over sand , red and violently bursting lik. fireworks; and sometimes, like today, tbe miracle oflife awaking in plant tbat bas watered . We had stopped for our prayer. As 1 wasbed hands. face and feet from watersldn. few drops sed over dried, up tuft of grass at feet, miserable little plant. yeHow :l withered and lifeless under the harsh rays of the sun. But as the water triekled over it. shiver went througb the shrivelled blades and 1 '5aw how they 510wly. tremblingly, unfolded. few droj)s, and tbe little blades moved and curled and tben straigbt ened 1beIJ1selves slowly. hesitantly, tremblingly ... 1 beld breatb as 1poured more water over tbe grass tuft. It moved morl;" quiekly, more violently, as if some hidden foree were pushing it out of ir5dream of deatb. Its blades - wbat deligbt to behold! - contracted and expanded like tbe arms of starfish, seemingly overwhelmed 5 but irrespressible delirium, real little orgy of sen5ual joy: and thuc; life re-entered vietoriously what moment ago had as .dead. entered it visibly. passionately. overpowering and beyond understanding in its majesty. Life in it5 majesty ... alwaY5 feel it in tbe desert. ecause it is 50 diffi.cult to keep and 50 hard. it is always like gift. ~L treasure. and surprise. For the desert is always surprising, ever.l tbough you have kno\vn it for years. Sometimes. when you think you see it in its rigidity and emptiness. it awakens

13

its dream, sends forth its breath - and tender, pale-green grass stands suddenly where l yesterday there was nothing but sand and splintery pebbles. It sends forth its breath again flock of smal1 birds flutters through the air - from where? vvhere to? - sIim-did, Iong-winged, emerald-green; or swarm of [ rises the earth with rusl1 and zoom, !~rey grim and endless like horde of hungry warriors ... Life in its majesty: majesty of sparseness, lws surprising: Iies the whole nameless scent of Arabia, of sand deserts 11ike this , of the other changing landscapes. Sometimes it is lava ground, black and jagged; sometimes dunes without end; sometimes Ivadi between rocky hiHs, cover 1::<1 with thornbushes out of which startled hare jumps across your \...'; sometimes loose sand with tracks of gazelles few.fire-blackened stones over which long-forgotten wayfarers cooked their [ in long-forgotten days; sometimes village neath palm trees, and the wooden wheels over the weI1s make music and sing to without stopping; sometimes well in the midst of desert vaIley, \vith beduin herdsmen bustling around it to water their thirsty sheep - they chant in while the water is drawn in large leather buckets poured with rush into leather troughs to the de1ight of the excited ani mals. Then again, there is [ in steppes overcome sun without mercy; patches of hard, yeIlow grass and leafy bushes that crawl over the ground with snakybranches offer we1come pasture to your dromedaries; solitary acacia tree spreads its branches \vide against the steel-blue sky; [rom between earth mounds and stones appears, eyes darting right and left, and then vanishes like ghost, the gold-skinned lizard which, they ~ 1, never drinks water. In hol1owstand black tents of goat hair; herd ofcamels is being driven homeward through the afternoon, the herdsmen -ride barebacked young came}!i, and when they their animals the silence of the land sucks in their voices and swallows them without . . Sometimes see glimmering shadows faron the horizon: are they clouds? float 10w, frequently changing their colour and position, now s1illg grey-brown mountains - but in the air, somewhat above the horizon - and now, for 1l the \vorld to see, shady groves of stone pines: but - in the air. And when tlley do\vn lo\ver and change into lakes and flowing

14

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rivers which quiveringly reflect the mountains ar:td the trees in their inviting waters, suddenly recognize them what they : blandishment of the jinns, the mirage that has so often led travellers to false hopes and 50 to perdition: and hand goes involuntari1y toward the water5kin at saddle ... there nights f of other dangers, when the tribes in warlike commotion and the traveller does not 1ight fire wblle camping 50 as not to [ the distance, 5it5 wble awake through long 5, his bet\veen the knees. And those daY5 of , when after long, lonely wandering meet and listen in the evening to the talk ofthe grave, sunbumed around the campfire: they talk of the simple, great things of life and death, of hunger and satiety, of pride and love and hatred, of the lust of the ftesh and its appeasement, of wars, of the palm groves in the distant village - and idle babbling: [ in the desert ... And [l the of Hfe in the days of thirst, when the tongue sticks to the palate 1ike piece of wood and the horizon sends deliverance but offers flaming wind and \vhirling sand instead. And in ! different days, when guest itl beduin tents and the bring bowls fu of milk-the milk of fat she-eamels at the giig of spring, when after strong rainfaUs the steppes and dunes gceen as garden and the mals' udders and round; [ ofthe tent the women laugh while they sheep in fire. .' Like red metal the sun disappears behind hIOs; higher than anywhere else in the world is the starry sky at night, deep and dream1ess sleep the stars; pale-grey l \ the mornings. Cold the nights in winter, biting winds flap against the campfire around wblch companions -huddle together in search of warmth; burning the days in sum \,. ride, ride rocking dromedary through endless lus, face muffled in headcloth to protect it [ the searing wind, senses lulled into sleepiness, while blgh aboveyouinthe noonheata ofpreydraws its circles ...

-2
AFERNOON GLIDES slowly its si1ence, its loneliness.

past us with its dunes, and

IS

After while, the IoneIiness is broken group of beduins ~,bo cross our path - four five and two women - mounted dromedaries, with beast of burden carrying folded black tent, cooking-pots and other utensils of nomad life, with oouple of children perched top of it ll. As they , they reii1 in their animals: ' with .' ~.,d we answer: 'And with and the grace of

(iod.' 'Wbat is destination, wayfarers ', insha-A//a/l.' 'And whence l' 'From Qasr Athaymin, brothers,' 1 reply; and then there is siIence. of them, gaunt, elderly with sharp face and . black, pointed beard, is obviously the leader; his glance also is black and pointed when, passing over Zd, it rests suspiciously , the stranger oflight complexion who has so appeared from nowhere in this pathless wilderness; stranger . \"I{ho says is coming from the direction of British-held Iraq, a.nd might welI (1 almost read Sharp-Face's thought) iJafidel surreptitiously entering the land of the Arabs. old ' hand plays, as if in perplexity, \vith the l of his saddle while hispeople, now loosely grouped around us, viously wait for to speak. After few mts, seems to to bear the silence longer, and asks : 'Of\vhich Arabs art thou?' - mean.;ng to what tribe region 1 belong. But before 1 to reply, his features light in sudden smile of reoognition: ', 1 know thee now! 1 thee with Abd al-Aziz! But that was Iong ago - four Iong years ago ...' And stretches his hand in friendliness toward and <:alIs the time when 1 was living in the royal castle at Riyadh and 11e came there in the retinue of Shammar chieftain to the I'espects of the tribe to Ibn Saud, whom the beduins always l> his first , Abd l-ziz, without formal, r titIe: (or in their free humanity they see only in the King, to honoured, doubt, but not beyond the deserts of . And so we go for while reminiscing, speaking of this and that, exchanging anecdotes about Riyadh, in and around 'N'hich to thousand guests live daily off the ing's bounty, receiving departure presents that var) in accordance with

16

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man".s status - from handfuJ ofsiJver coins or to the heavy purses of goJden sovereigns, horses or dromedariies wmch he frequentJy distributes among the cbleftains. the ing's generosity is ! so matter ofthe { heart. Perhaps than anything else, it is his wanntb of feeling that makes the l around , not exceptiog self, love . In years in , Ibn Saud's friendship has lain like: warm shimmer over , calls his friend, although is k.ing aod I jour nalist. Aod I friend - merely througib. out the years that I have lived in ms realm has shown friendliness, for that shows to : 1 friend because bls inncrmost thoughts his to others. 1 love to call friend, for, despite his faults - and there not few of them - is excecdingly good . Not just 'kindhearted': for kindness of heart sometimes thiog. As wou1d admiringly say of old Damasceoe blade that it is 'goOO' weapon it the qua1ities cou1d dmd from weapon of its kind: thus do 1 consider Ibn Saud good . is rounded within himself and always fol1ows own path; and if often errs in his actions, it is because never tries to anything mmself.

FIRST NG with ing a1-Aziz ibn Saud took placc at early in 1927, few months after conversion to !slam. Th recent sudden death of w, who had this, first, pi1grimage to , had made bitter aod unsocial. 1 was desperately striving to clamer out of dark ness and utter deso!ation. Most of ti was spent in 100 gings; 1 had contact with only few 1, and for weeks 1 avoided the customary courtesy the ing. heo ~ day, whi1e visitiog of Ibn Saud's foreign guests-it was, 1 re , Hajji Agos Sa1im oflodonesia - 1 was informed that orderof the ing had entered guest list! seemed to apprised of the reason of reservl!: and to accept it withsilent understanding. And 50, guest wh()

17

had

yet seen the ( of his host, 1 moved into beautiful at'the southern end of near the rocky gorge through

which the way to passes. From the terrace 1 could see Ialrge of the city: the minarets of the Great , thousands of white of houses with roof balustrades of col oured bricks, and the dead desert hills domed skies that glared like liquid metal. Still, 1 might gone postponing the ing had it not for 'with Arnir Faysal, his son, in library under the of the Mosque. was pleasant to sit ( that long, narrow room surr(.'und.~ old Arabic, Persian and Turkish folios; its stillness and dar'<ness fed with . day, however, the usual was broken the swishing entry of group of preceded armed bodyguards: it was Amir Faysal with his retinue passing through the library his way to the . was taH and t.bin and dignity far beyond his twenty-two years and his (. In spite his youth, had given the im position viceroy of the Hija. after his father's ~iuest the country two earlier (Itis elder brother, Crowl1 Saud, was viceroy of Najd, while the King himself spent llalf the in , the capital the ijaz, and the half in the Najdi ], Riyadh). librarian, young scholar with whom 1 had f"riendly for , 1ntroduced ( Prince. shook 118nds with ; and when 1 bowed to him, lightly tipped Ilead back with fingers and face Iit in warm sm.ile. 'We people of Najd do not be1ieve that should bow 00 r ; should bow only before God in prayer.' to kind, dreamy and little reserved and impression which was confinned during the later years of acquaintance. His air of nobility was not assumed; it seemed to glow from within. When we spoke t() other that day 1 Ithe library, 1 suddenly felt strong desire to meetthe father of Ithis son. ' King would to see thee; said Amir Faysal. 'Why dostthou shun him?' Al1d the next morning the amir's secretary fetched in automobile and took tn tJt King's palace. We passed through the bazaar street of AI-Maala, slo\vly making our way

18

through i throng c:amels. beduins and auctioneers seI1ing aIl kin of beduin wares- camel-saddles. , , waterskins, silver-inIid swords, tent and hrasscoffeepots then through wider. quieter and more , and finaJly reachedthe huge in wblch the ing resided. saddEed camels filled the space beCore it, and number slaves and 10unged about the stairway. 1 w'as made to wait in spacious, pillared room whose fioor was lalid withinexpensive . Broad, khaki-covered divans ran al0t:lg the walls, and green leaves could seen through the windows: the ginnig of garden wblch \vas being grown w.th great difficulty out of arid soil of . black slave appeared. 'he ing invites thee.' 1entered room like the 1had just left, exceptthat it WIIS rather smaller and lighter, side opening fully onto the gar den. Rich covered the fioor; in ,vindow overlooking ~be garden the ing sat cross-legged divan; at bls feet the fioor secretarywas taking dictation. When 1 tered, the ing rose, extended both hands and said: '/an wa-sahlan' - 'Family and plain' - wblch ns, 'You have nowarrived withinyour fam.ily and your foot tread an 1ain': the most ancient and most gracious of r expressions of welcome. For just second 1 was to gaze in wonderment at Saud's gigantic height. When ( then a\vare of the Najdi tom) 1Iight1y kissed the tip ofhis noseand bls forehead, 1had to stand toes despite six feet, wblle had to bend bl.s head dO\\'D.ward. h, with an apologetic gesture in the direc tion of the secretary, sat down. pulling to his side the divan. 'Just minute, the letter is nearly finished.' Wbile quietly continued to dictate, also-opened versationwith . never confusing the two themes. Mter fe,,' formal sentences, 1 handed him letter of introduction. reac! it - which meant doing three things at - and then, withou1; interrupting bls dictation or his inquiry after welfare, called, for coffee. that time 1 had had opportunity to observe him more: closely. wasso well proportioned that bls huge size- must havc at least sa and half feet - apparent nl OPPOSITE: A-uthor (1932)

THIRST

19

when stood. His face, framed in the traditional red-and-wblte checked kufiyya and topped gold-threaded igal, was strik ingly virile. wore his beard and moustache clipped short in Najdi fashion; his forehead was broad, his nose strong and aqui li, and his full mouth appeared at times almost feminine, but without being soft, in its sensual tenderness. Whi1e spoke, his features were enlivened unusual mobility, but in repose his face was somehow sad, as if withdrawn in inner loneliness; the deep setting ofhis eyes have had sometblng to do with ts. superb beauty of his face was slightly marred the vague expression of his left , in which white film was discemible. In later times I.leamed the story of this affl.ietion, which most people unknowingly attributed to natural causes. In reality, however, it had occurred under tragic circumstances. Some years earlier, of his wives, at the instigation of the ri"al dynasty of Ibn Rashid, had put poison into s incense ves sel - little brazier used at ceremoniaJ gatherings in Najd - with thl~ obvious intention of ki! him. As usual, the brazier was ha.nded first to the in! before being passed around ! his gulests. inhaling the first whiff, Ibn Saud immediatelY,. sensed that there was something wrong with the incense and dashed the vessel to the ground. His alertness saved his , but not before hi:~ left had affected and partially blinded. But instead ' avenging himself the faithless woma.n, as another potentate in his position would surely have done, forgave her - Jror was convinced that she had the victim of insuper infiuences at the hands of her family, who were relatcd to the House of Ibn Rashid. merely divorced her and sent her back, richly endowed with gold and gifts, to her at Hail.

FIRST MEElNG, the in! sent for almost daily. morning 1 went to with the intention of asking. wiithout much ofits being granted, permission to travel in to the interior of the country, for Ibn Saud did not, as rule, allow foreigners to visit Najd. Nevertheless, 1 was about to bring this matter up when suddenly the in! shot brief, sharp glance in direction - glance which seemed to penetrat~ to un sploken thoughts - smiled, and said: OPPOSITE: m;,. Faysal

20

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'Wilt thou , Muharnmad. with us to Najd and stay for few months at Riyadh?' 1 was dumbfounded, and , obviously, were the other present. Such spontaneous invitation to stranger was almost unheard of. went : '1 would like thee to travel motorcar \vith t month.' 1 took deep breath and answered: ' God lengthen thy life, , but what use would that to ? What good would it do to whizz in five or si)( days from Riyadh without having seen anything of thy country beyond the desert, some sand dunes and perhaps, somewhere the hOri2: , l like shadows ... If thou hast objection, drome dary would suit better, Long-of-Age, than thy cars gether.' Ibn Saud laughed: 'Art thou thus tempted to look into th,e eyes of beduins? 1 must warn thee fhd: tl1ey backward people, and Najd is desert land without , and the camel-saddle wi1l hard and the food dreary the journey - nothing but and dates and occasionally meat. But so it. If thou hast set thy heart it, thou shalt ride. , after , it well tl1at thou wilt not regret having to know l: they , they know nothing and nothing - but their hearts are fuH of good faith.' And some weeks later, equipped the ing with daries, , tent and guide, 1 set out roundabout route to Riyadh, which 1 reached after t\VO months. That was first journey into the interior of Arabia; the first of : foJ the few months of which the ing had spoken grew into years - how easily they grew into years! - spent not only in Riyadll but in almost every part of Arabla. And the saddle is hard longer ...

GOD LENGTHEN the Jife of Abd al-Aziz,' says Sharp.. Face. ' loves the badu and the bad!llove .' And why should they not? - 1 ask myself. he King's handedness toward the beduins ofNajd has standin~: feature ofhis administration: not very admirable feature, per haps, for the regular gifts of which Ibn Saud distributes

TlRST

21

the tribal chieftail1s and tJ1eir followers have th depcndent his la"gcsse that they are beginning to Iose ll incentive to improve their Iiving conditions their vours and are gradually lapsing the status of dole-re.ceivers, contentto remain ignorant al1d indolel1t. Throughout conversation with Sharp-Face, zayd' seems itit. While talks with of the , his eyes fre qULently rest , as if to remind that there is long way before us and that reminiscences and reflections do . quicken th,e camels' . We part. Shammar ride away ward the east and soon disappear behind dunes. From where we stand, we hear of them intone nomad chant, such as camel-rider sings to spur his beast and to break the monotony of his ride; and as Zayd and 1 our west\vard course toward f-ffm, the melody gradually fades away, and silence turns.
50

-3
through thesilence, ' hare!' of clump of bushes, while Zayd slides down from his saddle, slinging the wooden that hangs the pommel. bounds the hare and swings the over s head for the throw; just as is to hurl it, catches his foot in lmd/l , falls flat his face - and the hare disappears from sight. 'There goes good supper,' 1 laugh ay:-ne picks himself , fllefully eyeing the in his hand. ' mind it , zayd: that hare was obviously not our portion .. .' 'No, it was not,' replies, somewhat absent-mindedly; and then 1 see tl1at is limping painfully. 'Didst thou hurt thyself, Zayd l' ', it is Dothing. 1 only twisted ankle. It \i1l get better in little while.' But it does not get better. After another hour in the saddle 1 see beads of perspiration Zayd's face; and wl1en 1 take look at his foot, 1 find that the ankle has badly sprained and is angrily s\vollen. 'There is use going like this, Zayd. Let us k m here; night's rest \v restore thee.'
'LOOK THERE!' zayd's voice breaks

1 turn eyes to the bundle of grey fur that has leaped

22
pi.

ROAD

zayd seems to rest1ess with awakens 10 before dawn. and his sudden movement stirs a1so fr unesy sleep. '1 see l l.' says: and when we 100k , vve discover that the beasts - Zayd's - has indeed disap peared. zayd wants to set out i to search forit. but injured foot makes it difficult for to stand, not to speak of wa1king and utig and dismounting. 'h rest, zayd, and 1 shall instead; it won't diffi.cu1t to find way back retracing wn .' And in the breaking dawn 1 ride away, following the tracks ()f the lost dromedary which wind across the sand valley and d.i'! appear behind the dunes. 1 ride for , and , and third: but the tracks of the strayed niml and , as if it had pursued deliberate course. he forenoon is weH advanced when 1 stop for short hclt, dismount, eat few dates and drink from the small wateJ: skin attached to saddle. he sun stands high, but somehow it has 10st its glare. Dun-coloured clouds, unusual at this time of , float motionless under the sky; strangely thick. air envelops the desert and softens the outlines of the dunes yond their usual softness. eerie stir over the summit of the high sand hill in front of catches - is it anim.al? he 10st l perhaps '1 But when 1 look more carefu11y, 1 see that the movement is not but in the dune crest itself: the crest is in, ever slightly, ripplingly, forward - and then it seems .to trickle down the slope toward like the crest of slpwly breaking wave. murky redness creeps the sky from behind the dune; under this redness its contours 10se their sharness and blurred, as if i1 had sudden1ybeen drawn across; and reddish twi1igh1t begins to spreac;i rapidly over the desert. cloud sandl whirls against [ and around . and 11 at the windl begins to roar fr 11 directions, crisscrossing the 11 witbi powerful blasts. he trickling movement of the first hilltop hasi been taken 11 the sand hills within sight. In ttr of minutes the sky darkens to deep. rust-brown hue and the air is filled with swirling sand dust which,like reddish fog, obscures the sun and the day. This is sandstorm, and mistake. crouching dromedary, tenified, wants to rise. 1 it

, THROUGH NIGHT

down the , struggling to keep myselfupright in the wind that has now assumed the foree of gale, and manage to hobble t~le animal's ,forelegs and, to make it more , hind.leg as well. 1 throw myself down the grQund and drawmy over head. 1 press against the camel's armpit so as not to choked the flying sand. 1 feel the animal press its muzzle against shoulder, doubt for the same , 1 [l the sand being heaped from the side where' 1 unprotected the dromedary's body, and have to shift from to tirne to avoid being buried~ 1 not unduly worried, for it is not the first time that 1 surprised sandstorm in the desert. Lying thus the ground, tightly wrapped in , 1 do nothing but wait [ the storm to abate and listen to the of the wind and the flapping of cloak - flapping like loose sail - , like in the wind - like the flapping of tribal banners carried high poles beduin army the march: just as they flapped and fluttered nearly years ago over the host of Najdi bed uin riders - thousands of them, and 1 among them - returning from Arafat to after the pilgrimage. It was second pilgrimage. 1 had spent year in the interior of the Peninsula had managed to return to just in to take part in the congregation of pilgrims the Plain of Arafat, to the east ot" the Holy City; and the way back from Arafat 1 found self in themidst of multitude of white-garbed Najdi beduins, ri~~ing in tense gallop over the dusty plain - sea of white-gar bed honey-yellow, golden-brown and red-brown drome daries-a roaring, earth-shaking gallop of thousands of drome daries pusblng forward like irresistible wave - the tribal ners roaring in the wind and the tribal cries with which the announced their various tribes and the warlike deeds of their alleestors surging in wa,,:,es over detachment: for to the ofNajd, ofthe Central Arabian higblands, war and pilgrim age spring from the same souree ... And the numberless pilgrims from other lands - from Egypt and India and North Africa and Jlv-uustmd to such wild abandon, scattered in panic before our approach: for nobody could survived who stood in the way of the thundering host - just as instantaneous death \vould the portion of rider \ [ from the saddle in the midst ofthc thousands and thousands of galloping mounts.

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Howe\'er mad that ride, 1 shared the madness and abandoned myseIfto the the whirr and the rtJsh the with wild happiness in heart - a"d" the wind tbat rushed past face sang out: 'Never again wilt thou stranger ... again, arnong thy people!' And 1 in sand under flapping , the of sdst seems to : 'Never again wilt thou stranger ...' 1 longer stranger: has om . Western past is like distant dream - not l enough to forgotten, and not l enough to part of present. Not that 1 lotus-eater. thecontrary, \vhenever 1 ( stay for some months in town - as, for instance, in Medina, where 1 have wifeand infant son and library fu11 of books early Islamic history - 1 grow aod begin for action and movement, for the dry, brisk air of the desert, for the sme11 of dromedaries and the feel of the saddle. OddIy enough, the urge to wander that has made . restless for the greater of life (1 little over thity t\VO \) and lures again and again into ll of hazards and encounters, does not stem so from thirst for adventure as from longing to find own restful place in thll:: \vorld - to arrive at where 1 could correlate all that might to with ll that 1 might think and feel and .. sire. And if 1 understand it rightly, it is this longing for inner dis that has driven , over the years, into world entirel:f <!ifferent, both in its perceptions and its outer forms, from 11 to \vhlch birth and upbringing had seemed to destinc~ ... WHEN STORM finally subsides, 1 shake myself free of the sand that has heaped around . dromedary is half buried in it, but the worse for experience that must havf: befallen it times. he storm itself, it would seem at firs't gIance, has not done us damage apart from fig mouth, ears and nostrils \.. .ith sand and bIowing away the sheepskin saddle. But soon 1 discover error. the dunes around have changed their outlines. wn tracks and those of the missing camel have bIown away. ][ m standing virgin ground.

THIRST

25

Now nothing remains but to go back to the - at least to to go back - with the help ofthc sun and the general sense direction which is almost instinct with accus tomed to travelling in deserts. But here these t\'{o aids 110t til'cly li, for sand dunes do 110t allow to go in straight and so to keep the direction have chosen. The 113s tblrsty, , not to a\vay from for than few hours, 1 11ave long ago drul1k the last sip [ small waterskil1. \, it far to the ; and l hougl1 dromcdary has lbld 110 water since last stop at \vp.1I some two days ago, it is old campaigner relied to back. 1 set its nose toward where 1 think the must , and "' start at brisk . , , and third, but there is trace of Z'lyd of camving ground. None of the orange-coloured hs filir ; it would difficult indeed di5cover anything [i1i in if there had storm. Late in the after:oon 1 outcrop of granite rocks, so in th,' mid5t of these sand wastes, and recognize them immediately: we passed them, Zayd and 1, yesterday after , not long before we made the riight. 1 greatly reHeved; for though it is obvioU5that 1 way beyond the } where 1hoped to find Zayd - having missed m couple of miles 50 ....: it seems to that it should not \'" difficult to find simply going in southwesterly direction, as "."Cdid yesterday. were, 1 , about three hours between the rocks alld night : but wben 1 now ride for tbree bours. t~lere is sign of { of Zayd. Have 1 missed hi again? 1 pusb. forward. always to\vard southwest. taking { rnvmnt of the sun carefully into account; two hours pass. but stilI there 15 and Zayd. When night falls. [ -decide it is senseless { continue further; better rest and wai. for Hle moming light. 1 dismount. the dromedary, try to eat . some dates but too thirsty: and so 1 give them to the l al1d down with head against its body. It is fitful doze into \ 1 faH: not quite sleep a"d not quite waking, but succession of dream states brought about fatigue, broken thirst that has gradually distressmg;

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and, somewhere in those depths which does not want to covel' oneself, there is that grey, squirming mollusc feal~: what will to if 1do not find way back to Zayd and to our waterskins? - for, as far as 1 know, there is water and settlement for days' journey in directions. At dawn 1 start again. Dunng the night 1 calculated that 1 must have gone too far to the south and that, therefore, Zayd"s m ought to somewhere north-northeast of the place wheI'e 1 the night. And so toward north-northeast we go, thirsty and tired and hungry, always threading our way in wavy lines from valley to valley, circumventing sand hills now to the righ't, now to the left. At we rest. tongue sticks to the roof of mouth and feels like old, cracked leather;'the throat is and the eyes inflamed. Pressed to the camel's ll, \vith dra\vn over head, 1 try to sleep for while, but . aftemoon sees us again the march, this ti in more easter ly direction - for now 1 know that we have gone too far west - but still there is Zayd and . Another night comes. Thirst has grown to torment, and the desire for water the , the overpowering thought in mind that longer hold orderly thoughts. But as soon as dawn lightens the sky, 1 ride : through the morning, through day, into the aftemoon of another day. Sand dunes and hea't. Dunes behind dunes, and end. Or ~is this perhaps the end the end of all roads, of seeking and finding? Of coming to the people among whom 1 would never g stranger ... ? ' God,' 1 pray, 'let not perish thus .. .' In the aftemoon 1 climb tall dune in the of getting better view of the landscape. When 1 suddenly discem dark point far to the east, 1 could cry with joy, only 1 too weak for , that: for this must zayd's encampment, and the waterskins, the two big waterskins full of water! knees shake as 1 re mount dromedary. Slowly, cautiously, we move in the direc: tion of that black point which surely nothing but Zayd"s . his ti 1 take every precaution not to Uss it: 1 ride in straight line, up sand hills, down sand valleys, thus doubling, trebling our toil, but sued the that within short while, \\'ithin two hours at the most, 1 shall reach goal. And finally, afterwe have crossed the last dunecrest, the goal comes clearJy \vithin sight, and J rein .in the J, and Jook down

THIRST

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upon the dark something less than half mile away. and heart seems to stop beating: for what I see before is the dark outcrop of granite rocks which 1 passed tbree days ago with Zayd and revisited two days ago alone ... For two days 1 going in circle.

-4 from the saddle, 1 entirely hausted. 1 do not even bother to hobble the camel's legs, and in deed the beastis too tired to think ofrunning away. 1 \; but tears from dry, swollen eyes. How long it is since 1 havewept ... But, then, is not every tJiling long past? Everything is past, and there is present. lr is on1y thirst. And heat. And torment. 1 without water for nearly three days now, and it is five days dromedary has had its last drink. It could probably carry like this for day , perhaps two; but 1 cannot, 1 know it, last that long. Perhaps 1 sha11 go mad before 1 die, for the ain in body is ensnarled with tbe dread in min, and the makes the other grow, searing and whispering and tearing... 1 want to rest, but at the 1 know that if 1 rest now 1 s:ball never able to get again. 1 drag myself into the saddle and force the dromedary with beating and kicking to get ; and almost fall from the saddle when the nil lurches forward while rising its hind legs and, again, when it lurches back ward, straightening its forelegs. We begin to , sIo\\'ly,pain f1~lly, due west. Due west: what mockery! What does 'due west' amount to in this deceptive, undulating sea of sand hills? Hut 1 want to live. And so we go . We plod with the rest our strength through the night. It must morning when 1 fall from the saddle. 1 do not fall haTd; tJile sand is soft and embracing. l stands st \vhile, tJilen slides down with sigh its knees, then its hind legs, and lies crouched side with its neck ~tretched the sand. 1 the sand in the narrow shadow of the dromedary's body, wrapped in against the heat outside and the pain and thirst dread within . 1 cannot think . 1 cannot ,close eyes. Every movement the lids is like tal the eye-Ils. hirst and heat; thirst and crushing
VVN 1 SLIDE DOWN

28

silen~: dry silence that swathes in its hrof Ionetiness and despair and makes the singing ood in your earsand tbe ca.mel'sOCC85ional sigb stand out, threateningly. as these were the last sounds earth and 1 two. the man and tbe , the last living beings, doomed bein. earth. High us, in the swimming heat. vulture circles slowly. without ever stopping. pinpoint against the bard paleness of the sky. free and ll horizons ... throat is swollen. constricted. and every breatb moves: thousand torturing needles at the ase of tongue - that bJig. big tongue \ should not v but t stop moving in pain, kwrd. fonvard.like rasp against the dry cavity mouth. u insides are hot and intertwined in one unceasing grip of agony. For seconds the steely sky becomes black to.my wide-open eyes. band , as if ofits wn. and strikes against tbe butt of the carblne slung the saddle.peg. And the band stands stil1. and witb sudden clarity tbe mind sees the five good sbells in the magazine and the quick end that pressure the trigger could bring ... Sometbing in whispers: quickly. get the carbine before you are unable to move agail1! And then 1 [} lips and shape toneless words that from dark recessesof mind: 'We sha1l try you ... most certain1y try you .. .' and the bIurred words slowly assume shape and {ll into pattem-a verse from ran: We s//I most certainly ( ,vith / ld hUl1ger nd with the lack / possessions alld labour's /ts. u! give t/le good tiding 10 Ihose ))'ho remain stead/ast 011d. 'n ca/amity befol/s them, $: 'B't hold. ( God "' belong and Wlto Him do ,ve turn: Everything is hot and dark; but out of the ! darkness 1sen.'le cooling breath ofwind and hear it rustle 50ftly - wind rustling. as if in trees - over \vater - and the water is sluggish littIe stream between grassy banks. near the childhood. J lying the bank, little of nine or ten years, chewing grass sta1kand gazing at the white cows \vhich graze nearby with great. drcamy eyes and the innocence of contentment. In the dis t peasant women \\'ork in the field. of them wears red head-kerchief d blue skirt \vith broad red stripes. Willow trees stand the bank of stream, and over its surface g1ides white duck. making the water g1itter in its wk. And 50ft

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wind rustles face like ananimal's : , yes, it is [ deed animal's snort: the big white cow with the brown spots has quite close to and now nudges , snorting, with its muzzJe, and 1 feel the movement its legs side... 1 , and the snort dromedary, and feel the movement its legs side. It has raised itself its laind legs with uplifted neck head, its nostrils widened as if scenting sudden, \velcomesmell in the air. It snorts again, and 1 sense the excitement rippling down its long neck toward the shoulder and the big. half-raised body. 1 have seen camels snuffie and snort like this wben they scent water after long days desert travel; there is water ... - 1S there? 1 lift head and follow with eyes the direction toward which the ca.mel has its head. It is the dune nearest us, lo\v summit against tl1e steely bleakness the sky, empty of sound. But there is sound! There is faint like the vibration old , very delicate and brittle, high JPitched: the high-pitched, brittlesound beduin voicechanting the [ rhythm \vith l camel's tread - just the summit oftlle sand ll. quite as distances go. - 1 kno\v it in fraction instant - beyond the sound . voice. hee people there, ! 1 them. 1 \veak to get . 1 try to shout, but l hoarse grunt comes throat. then l1and strikes, as if its 0\\'11, against the butt of th~ the saddle ... "'ith the mind 1 see the fivc good sheIls in the maga
zin ...

With supreme effort 1 manage to unsling the weapon from the saddle-peg. Drawing the boJt is like lifting mountain, ! finally it isdone. 1 stand the its butt and fire shot ver tically into the aic. bullet \vhines into the emptiness with pitifuUy tmn sound. 1 draw l bolt again fire again. then listen. harplike singing has stopped. For mOnlent there is nothing ! silence. Suddenly ffi~I1'S head, and then his shoulders, \' the crest tlle dUl1e; and another his side. look \I1 [01' \vhile, then turn and shout something to some invisible cOl11panions, and the man in front clambers the crest half runs, 11alf slides down the slope toward . is commotion around : t\VO, three meli - ....'hat

ROAD

crowd after that [! - are trying to lift , their movements most confusing pattem of and legs... 1 feel something buming-cold, like ice and f, lips. and see bearded beduin face bent over , his hand pressing dirty" moist rag against mouth. he man's other hand is holding waterskin. 1 make instinctive toward it. but tbe beduin gently pushes hand back, dunks the rag into the water and again presses few drops onto lips. 1 to bite teeth together to prevent the water from burning throat; but tlle beduin teeth apart and again drops some water into mouth. It is not water: it is ri'l.olten lead. Why tbey doing this to ? 1 want to run away from the , but they bold back, the devils... skin is buming. whole budy is in flames. Do they want to k ? , if only 1 had the strength to get hold of rifle to defend myself! they do not let rise: they hold do\vn to the ground and pry mouth again and drip water into it, and 1 to s\vaHow it - and, strangely enough, it does not burn as rercely as ment ago - and the wet rag head feels good, and whelll they pour water over body, the touch or the wet cl6thes brings shudder of delight... And then goes black, 1 falling, falling down deep well, the speed of falling makes the air rush past ears, the rush ing grows into , roaring blackness, black, black ...

..

-5 50ft blackness without sound, goo(i and friendJy darkness that ernbraces you like warm b!anket and mak.es you wish that you could always rernain like this. so wonderfuJlytired a~d sleepy and lazy; and there is reaHy for you to your eyes or to your rrn; but you do your arm and do your eyes: only to see dark.ness aboY: you, the woollen darkness of beduin tent made of b!ack goat hair, with narrow opening in front that shows you piece 01' starry night sky and the soft curve of dune shimmering undei' the starlight... And then the tent-opening darkens and rnan's figure stands in it, the outline ofhis fiowing cloak sharplyetchedl against the sky, and 1 hear Zayd's voice exclaim: ' is awake" is awake!' - and his austere face comcs quite close to OWnI and his hand grips shoulder. Another enters the tent; ]
BLACK, BLACK,

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cannot clearly see him, but as soon as speaks with slow, solemn voice1 know is Shammar beduin. gain 1 l hot, consumingtblrst and grip hard the bow1 miilk wblchZayd ho1ds out toward ; but there is 1 when 1 gulp it down while Zayd l how tbls small group beduins happened to at the time when the sandstocm broke 100se, and how, when the strayed 1 ca1m.Iy itselfduring the night, they worried and went , all of them together, to search for ; and how, after l three days, when they had almost given , they heard r shots beblnd dune... And now theyhave erected teot over and 1 ordered to lie: in it tonight and tomorrow. Our beduin frieods jn 00 htl; their waterskins full; they have eveo able to give three bucketfu1s to dromedary: for they know that day's joumey towacd the south will bring them, and , to oasis wJ!lere there js \vell. And in the ti the came1s have fod dc:r enough in the hamdh bushes that grow all around. After whi1e, Zayd he1ps of tent, spreads blanket 00 sand, and 1 lie doWn under the stars.

FEW HOURS LATER 1 awaken to the lanldn of Zayd's coffeepots; the smell of fresh coffee is like woman's . 'zayd!' 1 11 , and am pleasantly surprised that voice, though stil1 tired, has 10st jts croak. 'Wilt thou give some coffee1' ' God 1 wi, uncle!' answers Zayd, following the old Arab custom of thus addressing '8. to whom wants to showrespect, older younger than the spealcer (as it pens, 1 am fewyears youoger than Zayd). 'ho shalt bave as iuJ!l coffee as thy heart desires!' 1 drink coffee and grin at Zayd's countenance. 'Why, brother, do weexposeourselves to such thingsinstead of $tyjg in our homes like seosible peoplel' 'use,' Zayd grins back at , 'it is not for the 1ike of thec and to wait in our es unti1 the limbs stiffand old overtakes us. Andbesides, do not 1 die in their ues as well? Does oot man a1ways his destiny around his neck, whcrever l'

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The word Zayd uses for 'destil1Y' isqisma - 'that which is portioned' - better known to tlle West in its Turkish [, kis , And whi1e 1 sip another of coffee, it passes through mind that this expression has another, deeper meaning as well: 'that in which has share.' That ;11 'h ',as share ... These words strike faint, elusive <:llOrd in ... there was grin that accompaniedthem ... whose grin ? grin behind cloud [ , pungent smoke, like the smoke of hashish: yes - it was the smoke of hashish, and the grin lgd to one ofthe strangest 1 have ever ! - and 1 met after the strangest experiences of life: while trying to escape from danger that seemed-only seemed-to imminent in its threat, 1 had racing, \vithout knowing it, into danger [ real, imminent, than the one 1 v/as trying to elude: and both the ! dal1ger d the l Ied to another es ... lt happened nearly eight years ago, \vhen 1 was travelling horseback, accompanied Tatar scrvant , [ Shiraz to Kirman in southern l - desolate, thinly popu Iated, stretch Niris Lake. No\v, [ winter, it was squeIchy, muddy steppe with villages in the vicinity, hcdged in to the south Kuh-i-Gushnegan, 'the Mountains tllc Hungry'; toward the north it dissolved into thc swamps bordered the lake. l the afternoon, as \ circumvent ~d i50 Iated hill, the lake suddenly into view: motior.1ess green surface without breath sound life, [!' the waier \vas so salty that fish could live it. [ few crippled trees desert shr.ubs, the saltysoil its shores did not allowanyvege tation to grow. The ground was lightly covered with muddy snow and over it, at distance [ about two hund red yards [ the shore, ran thinly outlined path. The evening [ and the caravanserai [ Khan-i-Khet - goaI [ the night-was nowhere in sight. But \ had to reach it at price; [ d \vide there was other settlement, and the nearness [ the s\vamps made progress in darkness extreme]y hazardous. In fact, we had warned in the morning not Ito venture there alone, [ [aIse step might easily sudden death. Apart [ that, horses were very tired long day's march over oozy ground and had to rested and [ed.

33

With the coming of the night rain set in. We rode, wet and morose and silent, relying the instinet of the res rather than our useless . Hours passed: and serai appeared. Perhaps we had passed it in the darkness and would now to spel1d the night in the under down that was steadily mounting in strength... of our horses splashed through water; our sodden elothes elung heavily to our bodies. Blaek and opaque hung the night around us under its veils of streaming water; we were ebllled to the ; but the knowledge that the swamps \vereso l wa:: ehilling. Should the horses at time miss the solid ground - 'then m God merey ,' we \\rarned in the morning. 1 rode ahead, with Ibrahim folIowing perhaps ten 00 hind. Again and again the terrifying thought: Had we Ieft h -i-het beblnd us in the darkness 1What prospect, to spend the night under the eold rain; but ifwe proceeded far tJh.er - what about the sws 1 of sudden soft, squishy sound from under horse's hooves; 1 felt the animaI slide in the , sink in little, dra\v up Ieg franticaHy, sIide again.- and the thought piereed mind: the swamp! 1jerked the reins hard and dug heeIs into the horse's flanks. It tossed its head high and started working its Iegsfuriously. skin broke in eold perspiration. night Vias so blaek that 1 eould not diseem own hands, but in the eonvulsive heaving of the horse's body 1 sensed its desperate struggte against the embraee of the swamp. Almost without thinking, 1 grabbed the ridillg erop whieh ordinarily hung un used at wrist and struek the horse's blndquarters with might, hoping thus to ineite it to utmost effort - for if it stood still now, it would sueked, and 1 \vith it, deeper and deeper into the mud ... Unaeeustomed to such feroeious beating, the poor beast - Kashgai stallion of exceptional speed and power _. reared its blnd Iegs, struek the ground with ll fours again, strained gaspingly against the mud, jumped, sIipped, heaved it self forward again, and slipped again - and the time its beat desperately against the soft, oozy mire... Some mysterious object swept with swish over head 1 raised ! hand and received hard, incomprehensible \'" . what from 1 Time and thought tumbled over one another and

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confused ... hrough the splasblng of the rain and tllC panting of the horse 1 could , for seconds that were like hours, the relentless sucking sound the swamp... el1ld must 00 , 1 [ feet from the stirrups, ready jump from the saddle ard try luck l - perhaps 1 save myself if 1 l flat the ground - when suddenly - believably-the horse's hoovcs struck against hard ground, , twice ... and, with sob relief, ~ pulled the reins and brought

the quivering animal to standstill. We were saved... Onl now did 1 remember and cal1ed out, full ofterror, 'Ibrahim!' No arower. heart went cold. 'Ibrahim... !' - but there was l the blar:;" night around and tbe falling rain. Had to save himself? With hoarse voice 1 called out again, 'Ibrahim!' And then, al.most , shout sounded faintly from great t: ' ... 1 !' Now it was reason's turn to stand still: how had we 00 so widely separated? 'Ibrahim!' ' ... here!' - and following the sound, leading horse the reins and t:sting every inch of ground with feet, 1 walked very slowly, very carefully toward the distant voice: and there was Ibrahim, sitting calmly in his saddle. 'What has happened to , Ibrahim? Didn't you also der into the swamp?' 'Swamp ... ? No - 1 simply stood still when su1denly, 1 don't know \vhy, galloped away.' Ga//oped ' ... riddle was solved. strugg1eagainst the swamp had nl fruit of imagination. horse must sUnply stepped into muddy rut and 1, thinking tha,t we were OOing drawn into the morass, had whipped it into fren, zied gallop; cheated the darkness, 1 had mistaken the ni mal's forward movement for desperate struggle against the swamp, and had racing blindly through the night, unaware of the gnarled trees that dotted the plain.... hese trees, and not the swamp, had the immediate, real danger: the s11'lall twig that had struck hand could as well lar ger branch, wblch might have broken mysku11and thus brougbt journey to decisive end in unmarked grave in southerll1
Ir ...

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1 was Curious with myself, doubIy furious because now we had 108t orientation and could 10nger find trace of the path. Now we would never find the caravanserai... But again 1 was mistaken. Ibrablm dismounted to feel the terrain with his hands and so perhaps to rediscover the path; and wblle was crawling thus ll fours, bls head suddenly struck wall - the dark wal1 of the caravanserai of Khan-i-het! But for imaginery bIundering into the swamp we would have gone., missed the caravanserai and truly lost ourselves in the swamps which, as we subsequently learned, began less than two hundre~ yards ahead... he caravanserai was of the decayed remnants of thle of Shah Abbas the Great - mighty bIocks of masonry \vith vaulted passageways, gaping doorways and crumbling fire places. and there could discern traces of old carving over the lintels and majolica tiles; the few inhabitabIe rooms \vere littered with old straw and horse duqg. When Ibra him and 1 entered the 1l, we found the Qverseer of the caravanserai seated fire the bare ground. At his side was bare-footed of diminutive size draped in tat tered cloak. Both rose to their feet at our appearance,and the lit stranger bowed solemnly with exquisite, almost theatrical gesture, the right hand placed over the heart. His cloak \vas covered with innumerabIe multicoloured patches; was dirty, entirely unkempt; but bls eyes were shining and bls face serene. he overseer left the room to attend to horses. 1 threw otf soaked tunic, while Ibrablm immediately set himselfto mak ing tea over the fire. With the condescension. of great lord who forfeits of bls dignity being courteous to his in feriors, the odd little graciously accepted the of tea \\' Ibrahim held out toward him. Without show of undue curiosity, as if opening drawing room conversation, turned to : ' are English,janab-i-a/i?' 'No, 1 Namsalvi' (Austrian). 'Would it improper to ask if it is business that brings you to these parts 7' . '1 writer for ne\vspapers,' 1 replied. '1 tvg through your country to describe it to the people wn. l love to kno\v how others live and what they think.'

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nodded with an approving smile and lapsed into . After while he drew small clay wa~erpipe and rod from the folds of his cloak; he attached the rod to the clay ves sel; then he rubbed something that Jooked like tobacco his palms and placed it carefully, as if it \vere more precious than gold, in the bowl of the pipe, covering it with live coals. With visible effort, he dre\v in the smoke through the rod, violently coughing and clearing his throat [ the process. ' water in the clay pipe bubbled and biting to fill the , And then 1 recognized it: it was Indian , hashish - and now 1 also the man's strange mannerisms: he \\'as 110s11S110S!li, addict. His eyes \vere not veiled like those of opium smokers; they shone \vith kind of detached, impersonal , staring into distance that was immeasurably remove.d from the real world around them. 1 looked in silence. When he finished his pipe at last, asked : 'Will not try it?' 1refused \\"ith thanks; 1 had tried opium twice(without particular enjoyment), but this hashish business seemed too strenuous and unappetizing even to try. The hosllShosl1i laughed soundlessly; his squinting eyesglided over with friendly : '1 know what thinking, respected friend: are tl\inking that hashish is the work ofthe devil and are afraid ofi~. Nonsense. Hashisll is gift from God. Very good - especially for the mind. Look herc, , let explain it to . is bad - there doubt about it - for it awakens in craving for ] things; it makes his dreams greedy, lik,e those of an animal. But hashish silences 1l greed and makes one indifferent to things ofthe world. That's it: it makes one tented. could place mound of gold before hoshshasbl- not just while he is smoking, but at time - and would not even stretch out his littlc finger for it. Opium makes people weak d cowardly, but hashish k.ills fear and makes brave as lion. If were to ask 110shs!ms!li to dive into icy stream in the middle of \vinter, he \vould simply dive into it and laugh ... For he has learned that to \\'ithout greed is to : \vithout fear - and that if goes beyond fear he goes beyond' danger as well, kno\ving that \vhatever ]lappens to hi is but his share in that is happening... '

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And laughed again, with that short, sl1aking, soundless laughter OOtween mockery and benevolence; then stopped lauglUng and l grinned OOhind his cloud of smoke, his sbln ing eyes fixed irnmovable distance.
' SHARE IN ALL that is happening .. .' 1 think to myself as 1 lie under the friendly Arabian stars. '1 - this bundle of flesh and , of sensations and perceptions - placed within the orbit of Being, and within all that is happening ... "Danger" is onlyan illusion: never it "overcome" : for ll that happens to is ofthe all-embracing stream of\vhicl11 myself part. Could it 00, perhaps, that danger .and safety, death andjoy, destiny and fu1filment, but different aspects of this tiny, majestic bundle that is I? Wbat endless freedom, God, hast Thou granted to ...' I to close eyes, so sharp is the pain of happiness at this thought; and wings of freedom brush silently from afar in the breath of the wind that passes over face.

-6
ENOUGH to sit up now, and zayd brings of our camel-saddles to l upon. 'Make thyself comfort , uncle. It g1addens heart to see thee well after I had

moumed thee for dead.' "hou hast good friend to , zayd. What would 1 done without thee 1l these years if thou hadst not follow ed call and to ?' "1 never regretted these years with thee, uncle. 1 still the day when 1got thy letter, than v years ago, g to ... he thought of seeing thee again was dear to , especially as in the meantime thou hadst bless ed with the blessing of Islam. But just then 1 had married Muntafiq gi.rl, virgin, and her love pleased exceedingly. hose Iraqi girls, they narrow waists and hard breasts, like ts' - and, smiling with remembrance, he presses his forefinger against the hard pommel of the saddle which 1 leaning 'and it is difficult to let their embraces go... So 1 told myself, "1 will go, but not just now: let wait for few weeks." But the weeks passed, and the months, and although 1 soon divorced

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that woman .,. . the daughter of dog, she had making eyes at her cousin - 1 could not make mind to forsake job with the Iraqi agay/, and friends, and the joys Baghdad and , d always told myself, ~'Not just now; after little while..... 1 was riding away from our , where 1 collected monthly , and was thinking of spending the night in friend's quarters, when suddenly thou camest to myn'ind and 1 remembered \vhat thou hadst told in thy letter ofthy dear rafiqa's death - God have her and 1 thought ofhow 10l thou must without her, and 11 at 1 knew i had to go to tllee. there then 1 pu11ed off the Iraqi star from iga/ and threw it away; then, without even going to myhouse to coHect clothes, 1 tumed drome dary's head toward the Nufud, toward Najd, and started out, stopping l ! the village to buy waterskin and some provisions, and rode and unti1 1 ! thee at , four weeks later. . .' 'And dost t!hou remember, Zayd, 0\'" firstjourney together in to the interior of , southward to the palm orchards and wheat fields of Wadi Bisha, and thence into the sands Ranya wblch had never before trodden non-Arab?' 'And how well 1 remember it, uncle! wert so keen seeing the Empty .] where the jinns make { sands sing,under the sun ... And what ! those badu living its , who had never ! seen glass in thei~ lives and thought {! { eyeglasses were made frozen water? Theywere like jinns themselves, reading tracks in { sand other l read book, and r~ding from the skies and from the air tbe coming sandstonn ~ours before it ... And dost thou l1, uncle, that guide we red at Ranya - that devil bada~vi whom thou wantedst to shoot down when was about to aban don us in the midst the desert? How furious was ! machine with' which thou makest pictures!' We both laugh at that adventure wch lies so far behind . But at the ti we did not feel at like laughing. We were ab>ut six orseven days' journey south Riyadh when that guide, fanatical beduin from the lkl,'n settlement Ar-Rayn,
wire. the vast, uninhabitcd sand desert which covers about quarter or the AiabiaD Peninsular.
'Companion'~i.e.,
al-ba}i,

t Rub'

39

paroxysm of when I explained to him what was foc. wanted to leave us there and then such heathenish picture-making endangered his soul. I wou1d not have minded getting ridof himhadit not thatwe

feJl into

were just then iiJ region '.vithwhich neither Zayd 1 was fam

i1iar and where,left to ourselves, we would tailhv10stour way. At first 1 tried to with our 'devi1 of beduin, but
to avaiI; remained adamant and turned back his l ward Ranya. 1 made it l { that it would cost his 1ife to leave us to a1most certain death from thirst. When in spite of this waming set his dromedary in motion, 1 aimed at and threatened to fire"": with every intention of doing so: and this, at last, seemed to 9ut\veigh our friend's about ' his soul. After some grumbling, agreed to lead us { { next l settlement, abo~t three days ahead, where we could l our dispute the qadi for decision. zayd and 1 disarmed him and took standing guard during the night to him from slipping away. he qadi at Quwa'iyya, to whom , appealed few days later, ! first gave judgment in favour of our guide, 'for,' said, 'it is shameful to make pictures living beings' (basing it wrong interpretation of saying of the : for despite { b~lieE - so prevalent among Mus lims to this day - that the pepicting of living beings is f::>rbidden, Islamic Law contains injunction to tms effect}. Thereupon 1 showed the qad; the openletter from { ing 'to amirs of { land and everyone who m read this' - and tl1e qadi'sface grew 10nger and 10nger as read: 'Muhammad Asad is our guest and friend and dear unto us, and everyone who shows friendli~ ness sho,vs it to us, and everyone who is hostile { wil1 dl~emed hostile { us.. .' Ibn Saud's words and seal had. magic effect { severe'qadi: and ultimately decided that 'under certain circun1stances' it might permissible { make pictures. . . . Nevertheless, we let our guide go and hired ario.ther { lead . us { Riyadh. And dost thou those days in Riyadh, unclc. w~en we \ guests of ihe King and tllOti wert so to s~ the old stables { palace filled ,vith shiny new motorcars. . . And the ing's graciousness toward {...' 'And dost thou ,Zayd, hOW he sent us out to :<l0 { secrets behind the beduin rebellion. l \\' \ journeyed

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..

tbrough nights, and stole into Kuwayt, and at last found out the truth about the cases of glittering new riyals and rifles that were coming to the rebels from across the ... ?' 'And that other mission, uncle, when Sayyid Ahmad, God lengthen his life, sent thee to Cyrenaica - and how we secretly crossed the to Egypt in dJJOW - and how we made our way into the Jabal Akhdar, eluding the vigilance of those ltalians, God's curse upon them, and joined the mujahi di" under Uar al-Mukhtar1 Those were exciting days!' And so we continue to remind~ach other of the days, the innumerable days we have together, and our 'Dost thou 1 Dost thou remember l' carries us far into the nigbt, until the campfire flickers lower and lower, and only few pieces ofwood remain glowing, and zayd's face graduaHy recedes the shadows and jtself becomes 1ike memory to heavy . In the starlit silence of the desert. with tender, lukewarm wind rippling the sands, the iages of past and present inter twine, separate again and to one another with wondrous sounds ofevoc.ation, backward through the years, back to the beginning of Arabian years, to first pilgrimage to and the darkness that overshadowed those early days: to the death of the woan whom 1 loved as 1 have loved woman since and who now lies buried under the soil of , under" 4iimple stone without inscription that marks the end of her road and the beginning of new for : end and beginning, and , strangely intertwined in the rocky valley of
...

some coffee leftT thy command, uncle,' answers zayd. rises with out haste, the taH, narrow brass coffeepot in his left hand and t\VO m.inute, handleless cups clinking in his right - one (or and for himself - pours little coffee into the first cup and hands it to . From under the shadow of the red-and-wblte checked kufiyya bls eyes regard with solemn intentness, as if this were much more serious matter than mere cup coffee. ! hese eyes - deepset and long-lashed, austere and sad in repose but ever ready"to flash in sudden gaiety - speak of hundr,ed generations of life in steppes azrreed: tbe of _
'ZAYD, IS THERB
'!

41

whose ancestors have never exploited and have never ~ ploited others. But the most beautiful in are his movements: serene, aware of their own rhythm, never hurried and never heSi tant: precision and that reminds you ofthe interplay of instruments in well-ordered symphony orchestra. ou see such movements often among beduins; the sparseness of the desert is reflected in them. For, apart from the few towns and village$, life in Arabia has so little moulded na h.andsthat nature in her austerity has forced to avoid ll dif fi in behavio and to reduce ll doing dictated his ll or , outward necesrity to few. very definite, basic forms. which have remained the for countless generations and havein n acquired the smooth sharpness of crysta1s: and this inherit ed simp1icity of is now apparent in the true Arab's gest ures as well as in his attitude toward . 'll , Zayd, where are we going tomw?' Zayd 100ks at with " smi1e: 'Why, uncle, toward
, s...

l'

. 'No, brother, 1 wanted to go to , but now 1 do not want it anymore. We are going to ..' .

BEGINNING OF

ROAD

-1 IS NEARLY EVENING, fe'N days after ter with thirst, when zayd and 1 arrive at forlom little oasis where we intend to stop for the night. Under the rays . the setting sun the sand hil1s in the east shine like irides cent masses agate with ever-changing pastel shadows and duOO light reflexes, so delicate in colour that even the seems to do violence to tbem it follows the barely perceptible fl)\V of shadows to\vard the greyness of growing dusk. still see clearly the feathery crowns ofthe palms and, halfhidden behind them, the lowly. mud-grey bouses and garden walls; and the wooden wbeeJs over the well are still singing. We make the cameJs lie down at some distance fr the vil laE;e. below the palm orchards, unload our heavy saddlebags and re:move the saddles fromthe animals' bot backs. few urchirls assemble around the str".ngers and one of them, big- littJle in tattered , offers to sbow Zayd place 'wbere wood is to found; and while the two set out their errand, 1 take the ls to tbe ,,'. As 1 ]ower Jeather bucket and draw it fillOO, some women from the vilJage to fetch . water in 'copper basins and earthenware pitchers, which they ! -- their beads witb both outstretched sidewis,e and bent upward - so as to balance tbeir loads better - holding the corners of their veils in uplifted hands like fluttering wings. ' with thee, wayfarer: they say. And 1 answer: An with and the ~race of God.' heir garments are black, and their faces - as almost always with bOOuin and vi1lage \vomen in tms part of Arabia - uncover 00, so that see their large black eyes. AJthough they bav,e settled in oasis for many generations, they bave not yet 10st the earnest mien of their forefatbers' nomad days. beir movements are clear and definite, and their reserve free of 11 shyness as they wordlessly take the bucket rope from bands

42

BEGINNING OF

RD

43

and draw water for camels-just as, four thousand , that woman at the weJl did to rh's servant when from naa to find for i master's son Isaac from their kinsfolk in Padan-Aram.
made his caels kneel down witl,out the city well / ,yater at the time / the evening, the time that 'n out ( draw water. And he said, ' Lord God / master Abral,am, 1 , send good.speed t/,is day, and s/zow kindness Abraham. Beho/d, 1standhere the wello/,yater; l daZlgh ters / the / the city out to dra~y water. Let it to that the damse/ to whom 1 shallsay, ": down thy pitcher, 1 thee,that1 drink,"-andsheshallsay, .. Drink, andl wi/I give thy caels drinkalso".. let the sae she that ho hast poinled/or hy servat Isaac; ad thereby shalll know that ho hast showed kindness unto master.' . And it ame to pass, / had done speakiirg, lhat, behold, Rebecca out . . . withherpitcher hershoulder. And the dasel was very/ to look upn, virgin, either had n known her: and she wentdown to the well, and filled pitcher, . and u. And the servat to meet her, ad said, 'Let , l thee, drink litlle water / thy pitcher.' A,ndshe snid,'Drink, lord'; andshehastened, andlet down herpitcher un hand, ad gave drink. And when she had giving drink, she said, '1 'ill drawwater / thy camels also,untilthey havedone drinking.' Andshehastened, andemptied pitcherinto the trough, and n again unto the well ( ,draw M'ater, and dre,.., / a/l his camels. .

his Biblical story floats through mind ! 1 stand with two lsfr the well ! litt1e oasis amidst the sands the Great NuCud and gaze at the. women who have taken the blucket rope from hands and now draw water for ni mals. Far away is the country of Padan-Aram and rah's time: but these women her~, with the power ! remembrance their stately gestes have evoked, obliterate all distance ! space and I1l1ake four thousand appear as ! lt in time. I ' God bless your hands, sisters, and keep you secure.'

44

ROAD

'And thou, too, remain under Goo's protection, wayfarer,'. they l, and tum to their pitchers and basins to fill the with water for their homes. to our camping l, 1 make the camels kneel down and hobble their forelegs to prevent them from straying at rught. zayd has already lit fire is busy making coffee. Water boils in tall brass coffeepot with 1, curved spout; smaUer pot of similar shape stands ready at zayd's elbow. In bls left hand holds huge, flat iron spoon with handle two feet long, wblch is roasting handful of coffee ns over the 510w r, for in coffee is freshly roasted for every , As 500n as the beans lightly tanned, places the in brass and pound5 them. hereupon pours some of the boiling water from the larger pot into the , the ground coffee into it and l5 the pot near the 10 let it 510wly . When the brew is alm05t ready,he adds few cardamon seed5 to ak it bitter, for, as the saying goes in Ar, coffee, in order to gooo, MU5t 'bitter like death and hot like love'. But 1 am not yet ready to enjoy coffee at leisure. Tired and sweaty after the 108 hot in" the saddle, with clothes lin ing dirtiIy to 5kin, 1 am 10nging for bath; and 50 1 5 back to the well under the , It is a1ready dark. he palm rd5 deserted; n1 far away, where the houses 5tand, dog barks. 1 throw " clothes and climb down into the weU., holding with hands and feet to the ledges and clefts in the masonry and supporting myself the ropes wblch the waterskins an: down to the dark water and into it. It is cold and reaches to chest. In the dark: ness side stand the drawing-ropes, vertically tautened the weight of the large, now submerged, Skin5 wblch in daytime used to water the plantation. Under the soles ofmy feet 1 feel the thin trickJe of water seep upward from the underground spring that feeds the weU in slow, unceasing stream of etema,l renewal. Above the wind hum5 over the rim of the well and makes itS interior resound faintly Jike the ins~de of Sea shell held . _gainst the ear - , humming sea shell such as 1 10ved to
ON

BEGINNING R-OAD

4S

1isten to in father's house , years ago, child just ig enough to look over the tatop, 1 pressed the shell against and wondered whether the sound was always there or onJy when 1 held it to ear. Was it something independent of or did l listeningcaH it forth? tirtles did 1 try to outsmart the sheH holding it away from , so that the.hum ming ceased, and then suddenly clapping it back to : but there it was again - and 1 never found out whether it was going when 1 did not Jisten. 1 did not know th, of course, that 1 was being puzzJed question that had puzzled wiser heads than mine for tlss ages: the question' of whether there is such thing as 'reality' from our minds, or whether our perception creates it.. 1 did not know it thcn; but, 100king back, it seems to that this great riddle haunted not l in childhood butalso in later years-as it probay haunted at time or another, consciously or unconsciously, every thinking buman being: for, wbatever tbe objective truth, to every of us tbe world mani- _ fests itself l in the shape, and to the extent, of its reflection in our minds: and so of us perceive of 'reality' l in juti with his own existence. Herein perhaps found vaJid explanation for man's persistent belief, since the earliest stirrings of his consciousness, in individual survival after death belief too deep, too \\'idely spread tbrough 11 races and times to easily dismissed as 'wishful thinking'. It would not too much to say that it h~s unavoidably necessitated the very structure of tl1c ltIi mind. think in abstract, theoretical terms of one's own death as ultimate extinction not difficult; but to visualize it, impossible: for this \vould less than to to visualize the extinction of reality assucb - in other words, to imagine nothingness: some thing that man's mind is to, do. lt was not the philosophers and prophets who taught us to li in Hfe after death; they did was to give form and spiri tual content to instinctive perception as old himsclf. 1 s 11. 1N W R D L at the incongrui ty of speculating t sucb profoundproblems while engaged in the mundane process of wasbing away tbe grime and sweat of 10ng day's journey.

46

ROAD

, after all, is there aIways clearly discemible borderlinc tween the mundane and the abstruse in life? Could therc . , for instance, anything more mundane than setting out in searchof 108t camel, and anything abstruse. dif6 cu)tof comprehension, than a1most dying of thirst? . . Perhaps it was ( shock ofthat that has sharpened senses and brought forth the need to render some 50rt of count ( myself: ( need to comprehend, fully than 1 ever done before, the course of wn life. But, then, 1 reinind myself, comprehend the meaning ! his W ~ 10ng he is aHve?We do know, ! , what has to us at this or that period ! our lives; and we do so ti understand why it happened; but our destination - our destiny- is not so easily espied: for destiny is the sum all that hasmoved in us and moved us, t and present, and all that will move us and \\'ithin us in the future - and so it unfold it self only at the end ! the way,. and must always remain mis understood or ) half understood as 10ng as we are treading the way. How 1 say, at the age of thirty-two, what detin was is? Sometimes it seems to that 1 almost see the lives ! two men when llook back at life. , think ! it, are those two parts Hfe rcaHy so different from another or was there perhaps, beneath all the outward differences ! forin and direction, always unity ! feeling and purpose to both? . 1 t head and see the round piece of sky over the ! the well, and stars. As 1 stand very still, for very 10ngtime, 1 seem to see how they slowly shift their positions, moving and , so that they might complete the rows upon rows ! millions ! years wblch never to close. And then, without willing it, 1 to think ! the little rows ! years that have happened to - all those dim years spent inthe warm safety ! child hood's rooms in town where every nook and street was famil .iar to ; thereafter in other cities full of excitements and ings and hopes such only early youth kn\; then in new world among l whose mien and bearing were outlandish ( first but in time brought forth new familiarity and new feelidg of being at ; then in stranger and ever stranger landscapes,

BEGINNING ! "D

47

in cities as old as the mind of man, in steppes without horizon, in mountains whose wildness reminded of the wildness of the man heart, :and in hot desert solitudes; and the slow growth of new truths - truths new to - and that day in the snows of the 'Hindu-Kush when, after long conversation, Afghan friend exclaimed in astonishment: '! are Muslim, only do not know it yourself ... !' And that other day, months later, when 1 did to know it myself; and first ilg age to ; the death of wife, and the despair that folJowed it; and these tirneless times among the Arabs ever since: years of deep friendship with royal who with s sword had carved for blmself state out of nothingness and stopped only step short of rea! greatness; years of wander ing through deserts and steppes; risky excursions amidst Ara beduin warfare and into the Libyan figbt for indepen dence; long sojoums in where 1 endeavoured to roundoff knowledge of Islam in the Prophet's Mosque; repeated il grimages to ; marriages with beduin girls, and subsequent divorces; warm relationships, and desolate days of lone liness; sophisticated discourses with cultured Muslims from 1l parts the world, and joumeys through unexplored regions: these years submergence in world far removed from the thoughts and aims Western existence. What 10ng row of years ~ .. .11 these sunken years now to the surface, uncover their faces again and call with voices: and sud denly, in the start1ed jerk of heart, 1 perceive how long, how endleSs way has been. ' always been n1 going and going,' 1 say to myself. ' never yet built your life into something that cou1d grasp with his hands, and never has there been answer to the question "Whereto1" .. going and , wanderer through lands, guest ! hearths, ! th~ ~onging has never stilJed, and al though are stranger more, struck root.' Why is it that, after fdig l among the people who believe in the things 1 myself to , 1 stl"uck root 1 Two years ago, when 1 took an Arab wife in Medina, 1 wanted her to give son. Through this son, Talal, who was to us few months ago, 1 have gun to feel that the Arabs are Jn

48

!! RD

kin as well as brethren in faith. I want to have his roots deep in this land and to grOW. in th~ consciousness his great heritage of blood as well as culture. his, might tblnk, shouId enough to make desirous of settling down for good, of building for himself and his family lasting . Why is it, tben, tbat wanderings ; yet over and that I have still to continue way 1 Why is it tbat the Hfe which I myself . have chosen does not fu satisfy 1 What is it tbat I find 1acking in this environment 1 Certain1y not the intellectua1 in terests of Europe. I have left them behind . I do not miss them. Indeed, I so remote from them tbat it has becom in crea.singly difficult for to write for the European newspapers wblch provide with livelihood; every ti I sendoff an l, it seems as if I were throwing stone into bottom1ess well: the stone disappears into the dark void and not even an comes to tell tbat is has reached its goa1 ... While 1 thus cogitate i disquiet and perplexity, half sub merged in the dark waters of well in an Arabian oasis, 1 sud den1y hear voice from the background of memory, the voice of an old Kurdish nomad: If walerslandsmolionless in

pool il gro}f,'sstale and fd, but when it movesandj/o)vsit comesclear: , too, in his wanderings. Whereupon, as if
magic, 11 disquiet leaves . I gin to 100k upon myself with distant eyes, as might 100k at the pages of book to read stoty from them; and lbegin to understand that l;fe could not have taken different course. For when I ask myself, "What is tbe sum tota1 of lif l' something in seems to answer, "ou set out to exchange one world for another - to gain new world for yourself in exchange for an old one wblch you never really possessed.' And 1 know with startling clarity that such an undertaking might indeed take an entire lifti.

1 CLIMB OUT of the well, put the clean, 10ng tunic wblch 1
brought with , and go back to the r and to Zayd and the camels; 1 drink the bitter coffee wblch Zayd offers and then down, .refreshed and warm, near the r the ground.

-2
RS R CROSSED under neck and 1 100king in

to this Arabian night which curves over , black and starlY.

OPPOSITB:

Zayd .

BEGINNING

49

shtig star flies in tremendous , and there another, and yet another: arcs of light piercing the darkness. Are they only bits of broken-up planets, fragmen~ of sorne cosmic disaster, now aim1essly flying througb the vastness of the universe? , . : if you ask Zayd, wil1 tell you that tbese the fiery jave lins with wblch angels drive away the devi1s that nights stea1tbllyascend toward heaven to spy upon God's secrets ... Was it perhaps Iblis blmself, the king of ll de-.i1s, who has just received that mighty throw of there in the east . . . ? he legends connected with tbls sky and its stars familiar to tban the cbi1dhood ... How could it otherwise? Ever since 1 to Arabial have lived like Arab, worn only Arab dress, spoken only ArlblC, dreamed dreams in Arabic; Arabian custorns and imageries have ~lmost imperceptibly shaped thoughts; 1 havenot hampered the mental reservations which usually makc it impossible for foreigner - ever 50 well versed in the manners and the language of the country - to find true proach to the feelings of its people and to make their wor1d his own. And suddenly I to laugb aloud with the laughter of piness and freedom:- so 10ud thatzayd looks up in astonish ment and dromedary turns its head toward with slow, faindy supercilious movement: for now 1 see how simple ai1d straigbt, jn spite of ll its 1ength, ro~d - rcad from world wblch 1 did not possess to world truly own. i, to this land: was jt not, in truth, bome-coming? Home-coming of the heart that has espied its old back ward over curve of thousands of years and now recognizes this sky, sky, with ainf rejoicing? I:"or this Arabian sky - so much darker, higber, more festive witb its stars tban other sky - vau1ted o~er tbe 10ng ~ek of ancestors, th,ose wander ing herdsmen-warriors, when, thousands of -years ago, tbey set out in tbe powerof their morning, obsessed greed for latid and booty, toward tbe fertile country of Chaldea and un known futurc: that small beduin tribe of Hebrews, forefathers of tbat who was to in U r of the Chaldees. 'That , Abraham, did not reallybelong in Ur. i! was but among Arabian tribes which at {i or another had wound their way from tbe hungry deserts of the Peninsula

OPPOSITB:

Author'.I1 Arab Wife Munira.and Son Talal (]932)

50

ROAD

toward ( northern dreamlands (! were said ' flowing with milk and - the settled lands of the Fertile Crescent, Syria and . Sometimes such tribes succeeded in overcoming the settlers they found there and established them selves as ru]ers in their , gradua11y intenningling with the vanquished l and evolving, together with them, into new - the Assyrians and Babylonians, who erected their kingdoms the ruins of the earlier Sumerian civilization; or the Chaldeans, who grew to power in Babylon, or the Amorites, who later to - as Canaanites in Palestine and as Phoenicians the coasts of Syria. At other times the oncomi.ng nomads were too weak to vanquish those who had arrived earl ier and were absorbed them; , altcrnatively, the settlers pushed the nomads back into the desert, forcing them tofi.nd other pastures and perhaps other lands to conquer. clan of Abraham - \\'hose original , according to the Book of Genesis, \vas Ab-Ram, which in ancient Arabic means ' ofthe igh Desirc' - was evidently of those weaker tribes; the BibJical story of their sojoum at Ur the fringe of the desert relates to the time \ they found that they could not win for themselves new homes in the land of the Twin Rivers and were about to northwest along the Euphratestoward and thence to Syria. ' of the High Desire,' that early ancestor of mine whom God had drivel1 toward unknown spaces and so ( discovery of his own self, would well understood why 1 here - for also had to wander through lands before could build his into something that might grasp with your hands,' and had to guest ! mai1y stiange hearths before was allow ed to strike root. his awe-commandingexperience puny perplexity would riddle. would known-as 1 kno\v it now - t11at the rneaning of 11 wanderings lay jn bldden desire to t rnyself meeting world whose approach to the innermost questions of , to reality itself, was different from 11 1 had accustomed to in Cllildbood and youth.
W LONG WAY,

-3 frorn childhood and youth in tral Europe to present in Arabia; but what pleasant way for rememberance to travel backward ...

BBGINNJNG ltOAD

51

Th~e 'were those early childbood years in the Polisb city of Lw6w - then 1 ustrian possession - in tbat' was as quiet and dignified as tbe street which it stoOO: 10 strcct of somewhat dusty elegance, bordered witb chestnut treS and paved with woOO blocks that muflled the beat of thehorses' booves and converted every of the day ioto l after . 1 10'100 that 1l street witb consciousness far beyond childish years, and not l because it was the street ofmy : 110ved, 1think, because oftbe 1 of self-possession witb which 1t flowed from { gay of tbat gayest of cities toward the stillness : tbe woOOs the city's g and tbe gre.at cemetery that l hidden in those woOOs. eautiful g would sometimes fly past silent wbeels 1:0 the paniment of { brisk, rhytbmic trap-trap of prancing hooves, , if it happened to winter and the street was blanketed with foot-deep snow, sledges would glide over it and steam would in cl0.uds from the horses' nostrils and their bells would tinkle througb the frosty air ~ and if yourself sat in the sledge and felt { frost rush by.and bite cheeks, childish heart knew tbat { galloping horses were carrying into happiness that had neitber beginning end. And tbere were the summer months the country,where mother's father, wealthy banker, maintained large estate for his l family's pleasure. sluggish litt1e streamwith ww trees along its banks; bams fuH of placid cows, chiarciscuro mysteriously pregnant with the scent of animals and and { laughter of { Ruthenian peasant girls who were busy in { evenings with milking; would drink the foaming warm milk straight ( { pails - not because were thirsty, but cause 1t was exciting to drink sometbing that was st 50 close to i15 animal source . . . hose hot August days spent in tbe fields "ith tbe farmhands who were ug { wheat, and with { women who gathered and bound it in sheaves: \vomen, to 100k ! - heavy of body, fuH of breast, with hard~ "'arm arms, the strength of which you could feel when they i'Olled you v playfuny at' noontime tbe \vheat 5tacks: but, of course, were { young then todraw further l sions from tbose laughing embraces ... .And there were journeys with paren15 to Vienna and and the Alps and { Bohemian forests and tbe North Sea

52 ROAD and the Baltie: places 50 di5tant that they alm05t seemed to new worlds. Every time set out 5ueh journey, the fir5t whistle of the train engine and the first jolt of the wheels made one's heart stop beating in antieipation of the wonders that were now to unfold themselves . .. And there were playmates, boys and girls, brother and sister and cousins; and glorious Sundays of freedom after the dullness - but not too oppressive dullness - of weekdays in sehool: hikes through the countryside, and the first meetings with lovely girls of ' own age, and the blush of strange exeitement from which covercd only after hours and hours ... It was childhood, satisfying in retrospect. parents in comfortable circumstances; and they lived ly for their ,;hildren. mother's placidity and unruffied,quiet have had 50mething to do with the ease with which.jn later years 1 \vas able to adapt myself to unfamiliar and, , most adverse conditions; while father's inner restlessness is probably mirrored in \.

1F 1 D to describe father, 1 would say that this lov,ely. slim, middle-sized of dark complexion and dark, passionate eyes was not quite in tune with his surroundings. In his early youth had dreamed of devoting himself to science, physics, but had never able to realize this dream and had to content himselfwith being barrister. Although quite successful in this profession, in which his keen mind must found \velcome challenge, never reconciled himself to it fully; and the air of lonelinesg.{hat surrounded him caused - awareness that his true calling had eluded
.

His father had orthodox rabbi in Czernowitz, capital of the then Austrian province of Bukovina. 1 still remember as graceful old \vith very delicate hands and sensitive face framed in long, white beard. Side side with his deep in terest jn mathematics and astronomy - which he studied in his spare time throughout his life - was of the best chess pl~yers of t11e district. This was probably the basis of his long standing frjendship \vith thGk-thd archbishop, him 5elf chess player of note. he two would spend eveo

BEGINNlNG OF THEROAD

53

ing together ovcr the chessboard and would round off thcir ses sions discussing the metaphysical propositions of thcir pe.ctive religions. might have presumed that, with such ! ofmind, grandfather would have welcomed his son's father's - inclination toward science. But apparently had made his mind from the very first that his elde!it son \vould the rabbinical tradition which went back in the family for several generations, and refused even to consider other for father. In this resolve have strength ened disreputable skeleton in the family cupboard: the memory ofan uncle ofhis - that is, great-great-uncle ofmine who had in the most unusual way 'betrayed' the family tradition and even turned away from the religion of his forefathers. hat almost mythical great-great-uncle, whose was never mentioned aloud, seems to have brought in the strict family tradition. At very young age had full-fledged rabbi and married off to woman whom apparently did not love. As the rabbinical profession did not bring sufficient remuneration in those days, supplemented his income trading in furs, which every year necessitated [ to Europe's central fur market, Leipzig. day, when was about twenty-five years old, set out horse cart - it was in the first half of the nineteenth century - of these long joumeys. Leipzig sold his furs as usual; but instead of turning to his town as usual, sold the cart and the horse as well, shaved off his beard and sidelocks and, forgetting his 10ved wife, "..e nt to England. For ti eamed his living eni] work, studying astronomy and mathematics in the even ing. Soe patron sees to have recogniZed his menta1 gifts and enabled him to pursue his studies at Oxford, fro where emerged after few years as promising scholar and convert to Christianity. Shortly after sending letter of div~rce to his Jewish wife, married girl.from among the 'gentiles. Not was known to our family about his later Hfe, except that achieved considerable distinction as astronomer and ni versity teacher and ended his days as knight. his horrifying example seems to tv persuaded grand father to take very stern attitude regarding father's inclin& toward the study of 'gentile' sciences; had to 'rabbi, and that was that. father, however, was not prepared

54

&OAD

to give in $ easily. While studied the Ta1mud in daytime, spent part of his nights in studying secretly, without the help of teacher, the curriculum of humanistic gynas;um. In time confided in his mother. Although her $On's surreptitious studies burdened her conscience. her generous nature made her realize that it would 00 l to deprive him of chance to follow his heart's desire. At the age oftwenty-two. after complet ing t ' eight ' course of gynasium within four , fathrl presented himself for the baceaIaureate examination and passed it with distinction. With the l in hand. and his mother now dared to break the terrible news to grandfather. 1 imagine the dramatic scene that ensued; but the upshot of it was that grandfather ultimately relented and agreed that father should give up his rabbinical studies and attend the university instead. he financia1 circumstances of the family did , however. allow to go in for his 0010' ed study of sics; had to turn to lucrative profession - that oflaw aiid-1n barrister. Some later settled in the city Lw6w in eastem Galicia and married , the four daughters rich local banker. he*e. in the summer of 1900, 1 was as the second of three children. father's frustrated desire expressed itself in his wide read ing scientific subjects and perhaps a1s0 in his peculiar, though extrernely reserved, predilection Cor his second son - myselC who also seemed to interested in things not immediately connected with the making and successful 'career'. Nevertheless, his hopes to make scientist of were destined to remainunfulfilled. Although not stupid, 1 was indiffer ent student. Mathematics and natural sciences were particularly : .->ring to ; 1 Cound infinitely more pleasure in reading the stir ring historical romances Sienkiewicz. the Cantasies of J ules Veme, Red Indian storie8 byJamesFenimore and arl and, later, the verses ofRilke and the sonorous cadences of Alsosprac/J Zarathustra. he mysteries gravity and electricity, less than Latin and Greek grammar, left entirely cold with the result that 1 a1ways got promotions nl the skin myteeth. s must been keen disappointment to father, but found some consoiation in the fact that : teachers seemed to 00 satisfied with inclination to ward literature - both Polish and German - as well as history.

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In accordance with our family.'s tradition, 1 received, through private tutors at , thorough grounding in Hebrew gious [, This was not due to pronounced religiosity in parents. Th belonged to generation which, while paying lip service to or another of the religious faiths that had shaped the lives of its ancestors, never made the slightest endeavour to confonn its practical life or everi its ethical thought t~ those teachings. In such society the very concept of religion had degraded to two things: the wooden ritual of those who clung habit - 'ilnd only habit - to their religious heritage, or the cynical insouciance of the more 'liberal' , Wl10 sidered religion as superstition to which might, occasion, outwar ,11 conform but of which was secretly ashamed, as of something intellectually indefensibIe. aII , own~arents belonged to the former category; but at times 1 have faintsuspicion that father, at [, inclined toward the latter. Nevertheless, in deference to both his father and his father-in-Iaw, insisted spending long hours over the~red scriptures. Thus, the age of thirteen, 1 ! nl could r~d Hebrew with great fluency but also spoke it freely and had, in addition, fair acquaintance with Aramaic (which possibIy account for the ease with which 1 picked up Arabic in later years). 1 studied the Old Testament in the original; the ishna and - that is. the text and the commentaries of the Talmud - familiar to ; 1could discuss with good deal of self-assurance the differences between the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds; andI immersedmyselfin the intricacies of Biblical exegesis, called Targum, just as if 1 had destined for rabbinical career. In spite of 1l this budding religious wisdom, or cause of it, 1 soon developed supercilious feeling toward ofthe premises ofthe Jewish faith. sure, 1 did not disagree with the teaching of moral righteousness so strongly emphasized throughout the Je\vish scriptures, nor with the sublin\e God consciousness ofthe Hebrew Prophets - but it seemed to that the God 01the Old Testament and t'he Talmud was unduly cemed with the ritual means of which Hi5 worsbippers were supposed to worship i. It 150 occurred to that this God wa5 strangely preoccupied with the destinies of particular nation, the Hebrews. very build-up of the 01d Testament as

56

blstoiy of the deseendants of Abraham tended to make od

appear not as the creator and sustainer of 11 mankind but, rather, as tribal deity adjusting ation to the requirements of 'chosen l': rewardin, thi.~m with conquests if they were ,.ighteous, and making them SU:f~f' at the hands of nonbelievers whenever they strayed from the prescribed path. Viewed against these fundamental shortcomings, the ethical fervour of the later Prophets, like Isaiah and Jeremiah, seemed to barren of universal message. But although the effect of early studies of min was the opposite of what had intended -leading away from, rather than closer , the religion of forefathers - 1 often think that in later years they helped to understand the funda mental purpose of religion as such, whatever its form. At that time, however, disappointment with Judaism did not lead meto search for spiritual truths in other directions. Under the influenee of agnostic 1vironment, 1 drifted, like so boys ofmy age, into mat.er-of-fact rejection of all institutional religion; and sinee religion had moreto than series of restrictive regulations, 1 felt the worSe for having drifted away from it. Theological and philosophical ideas did not yet rea11y concern ; what 1 was 100kingforward to was not much different from the expectations of most other boys: action,adventure, excitement. Toward the end of 1914,when the Great War \vas already rag ing, the first big to fulfil boyjsh dreams seemed to within grasp. At the age of fourteen 1 made escape from school and joined the Austrian army under false . 1 was tall fOT years and easily passed for eighteen, the minimum age for recruitment. But apparently 1 did not carry marshal's baton in knapsack. Mter week or so, poor father succeeded in tracing with the l of the poliee, and 1 \vasignominiously escorted back to, Vienna, where family had settIed some time earlier. Nearly four years later 1 was actu 11, and legitimatelyj drafted into the Austrian r; but then 1 d ceased to dream of military glory and was searching for other ,avenUel to, se1f-fulfilhnent. In case, few weeks after iriduction the revolutioR broke out, the Austrian pire co11apsed, and the \var was over.

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ABOUT TWO YEARS after the end of the Great War 1 studied. in somewbat desultory fashion, history of art and philosophy at the University of Vienna. heart was not in those studies. quiet academic did not attract . 1felt yearning to into more intimate griP5 with life, to enter it without of th05e carefully contrived, artificial defences which security-minded people love to build around them selves; and 1 wanted to find myself approach to the spiri tua1 order of things which, 1 knew, exist but which 1 could . discem. It is . to explain in 50 words what 1 meant in those days 'spiritual order' ; it certainly did not to conceive of the problem in conventional religious terms , for that , in precise terms whatsoever. vagueness, to Cair to mY5elf, was notof own making. It was the vagueness of entire generation. The opening decades of the twentieth century stood in the sign of spiritual vacuum. All the ethical va1uations to which have [ so had phous under the terrible impact ! what had happened 1914 and 1918. and new set values was yet an)'\\'here in sight. feeling of brittleness and insecurity was in the air - presentiment of social and intellectua1 upheavals that made doubt whether there could ever again in man's thoughts and endeavours. Everything seemed to flow ing in form1ess flood, and the spiritual restlessness of youth could nowhere find foothold. In the absence of reliabIe standards ofmorality, nobody could give us young people factory answers to the questions that perplexed us. Science said. 'Cognition is everything' - and forgotthat cognitio!\ with out ethical goal lead l to chaos~ social reformers, the revolutionaries, the communists- ofwhom undoubtedly wanted to build better, happier world~were thinking only in terms of outward, social andeconomic, circumstances; and to bridge that defect, they hadraised their 'materialistic conception of history' to kind of new, anti-metaphysical metaphysics. he traditionally religious people, the other hand, knew nothing better tMn to attribute to their God qualities derived from their own habits thought, which had long since rigid add meaningless: and when \ young people sa\.... that these

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was ~appenlng m the world around us, we told ourselves: 'he

aJleg~ divi~e q~alities often stooo in sharp contrast with what

moving forces of destiny are evidently different from the quali ties which lae ascnbed to God; therefore - there is God.' And it occurred to only very few of us that the cause of this confusion might lie perhaps. in the arbitrarihess of the self righteous guardians of faith who claimed to the right to 'define' God and, clothing Him \vith their own garments, separated i from and his deStiny. In the individual, this ethicallability could lead either to plete moral chaosand cynicism , alternatively, to search for creative, personal approach to what might constitute the good life. his instinctive realization have , indirectly, the son for choice of history ofart as i subject at the uni versity. It was the true function of art, 1 suspected, to evoke vision of the coherent, unifying pattcrnthat must underlie the fragmentary picture of happenings which our consciousness veals to us and which, it seemed to , could on1y inadequate ly formulated through conceptual thought. HowQVer, the courses which 1 attended did not satisfy . professors - some of them, like Strzygowski and Dvorak, outstanding in their ular fields of study - appeared to concemed with dis covering the' aesthetic laws that. govem artistic creation than \vith baring its innermost spiritual impu1ses: in other words, their approach to art was, to mymind, too narrowly confined to the question of the /orms [ which it expressed itself. he conclusions ofpsychoanalysis, to which 1 was introduced in those days ofyouthful perplexity, left equaHy, iffor some what different reasons, unsatisfied. No doubt, psychoanalysis was at that time inteHectual revolution ofthe first magnitude, ' and onefeltinone's bones that thisflinging-openofnew,hitherto barred doors of cognition was bound to affect deeply - and per haps change entirely - man's thinking about himself and his sockty. discovery of the role which unconscious urges play in the formation of the human personality opened, beyond question, avenues to more penetrating self-~nderstanding than had offered to us . the psychological theories of earlier times. this 1 ,vas ready to concede. 'Indeed, the stimulus of Freudian ideas ,vas as intoxicating to young mind as potent

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wine, and were the evenings 1 spent in Vienna's cafes lis tening to exciting discussions between some of the early pioneers of psychoanalysis, such as Alfred Adler, Steckl and Otto Gross. But while 1 certainly did not dispute the validity of its analytical principles, 1 was disturbed the intellectual gance of the new science, which tried to reduce mysteries of man's Self to series of neurogenetic reactions. philo sophical 'conclusions' arrived at its founder its devotees somehow appeared to too pat, too cocksure and over-simpli fied to anywhere within tlle neighbourhood of ultimate truths; and they certainly did not point new way to the good life. But although such problems often occupied mind,they did not really trouble . 1 \vas never given to meta physical speculation to conscious quest for abstract 'truths'. interests lay more in the direction of things seen and felt: people, activities and relationships. And it was just then that was beginning to discover relationships with women. I the general process of dissolution of established su~ial mores that followed the Great War, restraints betwcen the sexes had loosened. What happened was, 1 think, 110t so revolt against the strait-lacedness of the nineteenth century as, rather, passive rebound from state of affairs in which certain moral standards had deemed eternal and unquestionable to social condition in which everytblng was questionable: swingi'ng of the pendulum from yesterday's forting belief in the continuity of man's upward progress to the bitter disillusionment ofSpengler, to Nietzsche's mora1relativism, and to the spiritual nihilism fostered psychoanalysis. Looking backward those early postwar years, 1 feel that the young and women who spoke and wrote with so enthusiasm about 'the body's freedom' were very far indeed from the.ebul lient spirit of they so often invoked: their raptures were too self-conscious to exuberant, and too easy-going to revolu tionary. Their sexual relations had, as rule, sometblng casual about them - certain matter-of-fact blandness \vhich often led to promiscuity. Even if 1 had felt myself bound the remnants of conven tional morality, it would have extremely difficult to avoid being drawn into trend that had so widespread; as it

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was, 1 rather gloried, like 50 of generation, in what was considered 'rebellion against the hw conven tions.' Airtations grew easily into affair5, and some ofthe affairs into passions. 1 do ! think, however, (! 1 was libertine; for in those youthful loves of mine, however fiimsy and short lived, t~lere was always the lilt of hope, vague but insistent, that the frightful isolation wblch so obviously separated from might broken the of and woman.
RESTLESSNESS GREW and made it increasingly difficult for to pursue university studies. At last 1 decided to give them up for good and try hand at journalism. father, with probably more justification 1 \vas tben willing to cede, strongly objected to such course, maintaining that before 1 decided to make writing career 1 should at least prove to myself that 1 could write; 'and, in ,' concluded after of our stormy discussions, ' Ph.D. degree s never yet vented man from becoming successful writer.' His reasoning was sound; but Iwas very young, very hopeful and very restless. When 1 realized that \vould not change bls mind, there seemed.notblng left but to start life own. Without telling of intentions, 1 said good-bye to Vienna sununer day in 1920 and boarded train for Prague. All 1 possessed, from personal belongings, was dia mond ring wblch mother, who had died year earlier, had left . his 1 sold through the good offices I;>f waiter in Prague's ain literary cafe. Most .probably 1 was thoroughly gypped in the transaction, but th& sum of wblch 1 ceived appeared !ike fortune. With this fortune in pocket 1 proceede~ to Berlin, where some Viennese friends introduced to the magic circle of [itterateurs and artists at the old Cafe des Westens. 1knew that henceforth 1 would have to make way un aided; 1 would never again expect or ! financial help from family. Some \veekslater, when father's anger had 'abated \vrote ( : '1 already see ypu ending one day as tramp in roadside ditch'; to which 1 repJied: 'No roadside ditch for - 1 will out (.' How 1 would out

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top was not in the least clear to ; but I knew that I wanted to write and was, of course, convinced that the world of letters was waiting for with wide . After few months cash out and I began to cast ! for job. young with journaJistic aspirations, of the great ds was the obvious choice; but I found out that 1 was 'choice' to them. 1 did not find it out . . It took \veeks of tiresome tramping the pavements of Berlin for subway streetcar fare had then lem - and endless of humiliating interviews with editors-in-chief and ne\vs editors and sub-editors, to realize tbat, barring iracle, fledgling without single printed line to !; credit bad not the slightest of being admitted to the red precincts of newspaper. No miracle way. Instead, 1 acquainted witb hunger and spent several weeks sub sisting almost entirely the tea and the two rolls which landlady served in the morning. literary friends at the Cafe des Westens cou]d not do for raw and inexperi enced 'would-be'; , most of them lived in circum stances not different from own, hovering from day to day the brink of nothingness and struggling to keep their chins water. Sometimes, in the flush of afI1uence duced Iuckily placed article or picture sold, another of them wou]d throw with and frankfurters and \\'ould ask partake of the sudden bounty; rich would invite group of us strange il1teEectual gypsies to supper in his flat, and would gaze at us with awe \vhile we gorged our empty stomachs with caviar canapes and hg, repaying host's munificence \Vit}l clever talk and 'insight into mian life.' But such treats were only exceptions. rule of days was stark hunger - and in the nights sleep was filIed \vith dreams of steaks and sausages and thick slices of buttered bread. Several times 1\vas tempted to \vrite to father and beg him for help, which surely would nothave refused; but time pride stepped in and 1 wrote to him instead of the won derful job and the good salary 1 had . .. . ,! last lllcky break . 1 \Vas introduced to F. \V. , who jU5t then was rising to fame a~ {11 director (thi5 \\'5 {\ yenr5 HollY'vood drew him to 5till gre,lter and to untimely, tragic death); and , \vith that ""'himsical

62 impulsiveness whichendeared to 1l his friends;at took fancy to tbe young wbo was 100king so l, and with 50 in the face of adversity, tOward the future. asked if 1would not like to work under it new fil was about to begin: and although the job was to only tem , 1 saw the gates b~yen opening before as 1 sta nered, 'es, 1 would ... ' For two glorious ontbs, free of 11 financial worries and ll absorbed host of glittering unlike .. 1 had ever kno\vn, 1 worked as Murnau's assistant. ,;elf-confidence gre\v.ueendous1y; and it was certainly not 'iminished the fact that the leading lady of the fiIrn - weB ,w and very beautiful actress - did not averse to flirtation with the director's young assistant. When the fil was finisbed and Murnau had to abroad for new assignent, 1 took l ofhi with convictionthat worstdayswereover. Short1y afterward, good friend Anton Kuh - Viennese journalist who bad recently to in erlin as theatre critic - invited to collaborate with it film sce which had commissioned to write. 1 accepted the Idea with enthusiasmand put, 1 believe, much work into the script; at any rate, producer who had commissioned it g1adly paid the sum agreed , wblcbAnton and 1 divided fifty-fifty. 1 order to celebr:ate our 'entry into the world offilms,' we "arty of the ost fasblonable restaurants in erlin; and en we received tbe ill, we found that practically entire lrnings bad gone up in 10bster, caviar and Frencb wines. But , luck held out. V/e immediate1y sat down to writing another ;nari - fantasy woven rld the figure of and )izarre, tl iagina experienceof his - and found buyer ;). tbe very it was completed. his ti~, bowever, 1 refused ;) 'celebrate' our success, and \\'ent instead sevetalweeks' .10liday'to the Bavarian lakes. After anotber fu of adventurous ups and downs in vari 'us cities of Central Europe, involvingaIl nn of short-lived >bs, 1succceded-at )as1 in breaking into world ofjournalism..
s BREAK-THROUGH took ) in the autumn 1921, after another period offinanciall0W. On afternoon, while1was

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sitting in the Cafi des Westens, tiredand disconsolate, friend of sat down at table. Wheri Irecounted ttoubles to him, suggested: 'hece might for . Dammert is start10g news' agency of his own in co-operationwith the United Prcss of America. It will called the United Telegraph. 1 s that will need large number of su~itors. 1'11 introduce to , if like: Or. Oammert was well-known figure in the political circles ofBerlin in the twenties. Prominent in the ranks ofth{ Centre Party, and wealthy in his own right, h, jJ excellent reputation; and the idea of working under hi. pealed to . Next day friend took to Dr. DammerCs . he ele gant, middle-aged was suave and friendly as invited us to seated. 'Mr. Fingal' (that was friend's ) 'has spoken to about . Have ever worked before as journalist ?' 'No, sir,' 1 replied, 'but 1 have had plenty ofother , 1 something of Eastern countries and know several of the languag~s.' (In fact, the ollly Eastern language 1 could speak was Polish, 1 had only the vaguest idea ofwhat was going in that oftheworld; but 1 was resolved not to let h spoiled undue modesty.) ', that is interesting,' remarked Dr. Oammert witll half smile. '1 have penchant for experts. But, unfortunately, 1 can't use Eastern European affairs just now.' must have seen the disappointment in face, for qtlickly continued: 'Still, 1 opening for although it somewhat beneath standing, 1 won der .. .' 'What is the opening, sir?' 1 enquired eagerly, thinking of unpaid rent. . 'Well ... 1 need several telephonists... , , , don'{ \vorry, not at s\vitchboard: 1 telephonists to trans mit news { the provincial newspapers ...' his was indeed comedown from high expectations. 1 looked at Or. Oammertand looked at ; and ,",' 1 saw the tightening of the humorous creases around his eyes, 1 k!lcw that boastful game was .

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'1 accept, sir,' 1 answered with sitili and laugh. following week 1 started ne:W job. It was boring job and far cry from the journalistic '' 1 had dreaming of. 1 had nothing to do but transmit telephone, several times
dai1y, news from mimeographed sheet to tl1 provincial newspapers that subscribed to the service; but 1 was good tele phonist and the was good, too. This went for about month. At the end of the month unforeseen opportunity offered itself to . In that of 1921 Soviet Russia was stricken famine of unprecedented dimensions. Millions of l were starving and huids of thousands dying. entirc European press \vas buzzing with gruesome descriptions of the situation; severaI foreign re1ief operations were being planned, among them Herbert Hoover, who had done so for Central after the . War. large-scale action "iithin Russia was headed Maxim Gorky; his drarnatic appeals for aid were stirring the entire world; and it was rumoured tI1at his wife would shortly visit the capitaIs of Central and Western in n attempt to l public opinion for effective Ilelp. Being only telephonist, 1 did not participate directly in the coverage of this sensational episode until remark fom of acquaintances (1 had of them in the strangest places) suddenly dre\y into its midst. was night doorman at the ! Esplanade, 01' Iin's sV.iankiest, and the remark had n: 'This Madame Gorky is very pleasant Iady; n would never guess that sIle is ] shie .. .' 'Madame Gorky? Where the II did see Iler ?' informant 10wered his voice to whisper: 'She is staying at hoteI. yesterday, but is registered under n assumed . Only the manager knows who she realIy is. She doesn't \vant to pestered reporters.' 'And how do know it?' 'We doormen know everything that goes in: the boteI,' replied with grin. 'Do think we could keep jobs for lon!! jf we didn't1' What story it would make toget n exclusive intervie'f with Madame Gorky - the more 80 as not word of her presence in

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hadso penetrated to the press...1 was at

'Could J: 1 asked friend, 'somehow make it possible for to see herT 'Wel1,1 don't know. She is obviously dead-set keep1ng her self to herself... But 1 couJd do thing: if sit in the 10 [ the evening, 1 might to point her out to .' That was deal. Irushed back to office at the United Tele graph; almost had gone that time, but fortu nately the news editor was still at his desk. 1 buttonholed m. 'Wi give press card if 1 promise to br1ng back sensational story 'What kind story?' enquired suspiciously. ' give the press card . 1'11 give the story. If 1 don't, ' always the card back.' ,Finally the old news-hound agreed, and 1 emerged the the proud possessor card which designated as representative the United Telegraph. he next few hours were spent in the 10 the Esplanade. ni o'clock friend arrived duty. From the doorway winked at , disappeared behind the reception desk and appeared few minutes later with the information that Madame Gorky was out. 'If sit here long enough, you're sure see her when she
.'

At about eleven o'clock 1 caught friend's signal. was pointing surreptitiously to lady who had just entered the volving door: smalI, delicate woman 1 middle forties, dressed in extremely wel1-cut black gown, with 10ng black silk trai1ing the ground behind her. She was so genuinely aristocratic 1 her bearing that it was indeed difficult to imagine her as the wife of the 'working-man's ,' and still diffi It as citizen of the Soviet Union. Blocking her way, 1 bo\ved and proceeded to address ~e in most engaging tones: 'Madame Gorky ... ?' For instant she appeared startled, ! then soft smile lighted her beautiful, black eyes and she answered in that only faint trace of Slav accent: '1 not Madame Gorky... mistaken - is so-and-so' (giving Russian-sounding which 1 forgottcn).

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'No, Madame Gorky,' 1 persisted, '1 know that 1 not mis taken. 1 also know that do not wa'i),t to bothered us reporters - but it would great deal, very great deal to to allowed to speak to for few minutes. This is . to establish myself. 1 sure would not like to destroy that ... 7' 1 showed her press card. '1 got it only today, and 1 will have to retum it unless 1 produce the story of intervie\v with Madame Gorky.' aristocratic lady continued smile. 'And if 1 wereto tell word of honour that 1 not Madame Gorky, would believe then ?' 'If were to tell anything your word of honour, 1 would believe .' She burst out laughing. ' seem to nice little .' ( graceful head reached hardly to shoulder.) '1 m not going to t,.1I any lies. win. But we ' spend the rest of the evcning here in the lobby. Would give the pleasure of having tea with in ?' And so Illad the pleasure of having tea with Madame Gorky in her rooms. For nearly hour she "'ividly described the hor rors of the ; and when 1 left her after rnidnight, 1 had thick sheaf of notes with . . sub-editors night duty at the United Telegraph opened their eyes wide seeing at that unusual hour. But 1 did not bother to explain, for 1 had urgent work to do. Writing own interview as quickly as 1 could, 1 booked, without w~ .lting for editorial clearance, urgent press calls to ;:.ll the newspapers we served. Next morning the burst. While of the great Berlin dailies had single word about Madame Gorky's presence in town, all the provincial papers served our agency carried their front pages tlle United Telegraph Special Representative's exclusive interview with Madame Gorky. telephonist had made first-class scoop. In the aftemoon conference of editors took place in Dr. Dammert's . 1 was called in and, after preliminary lecture in which it was explained to that news item of importance ought ever to go out without first being cleared the news edi tor, 1 was informed that 1 had been promoted to reporter. At last 1 was journalist.

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-4
SOFT STEPS in the sand: it is Zayd, returning from the weH with fiHed waterskin. lets it faH with plop the ground the fire and resumes cooking our dinner: rice and the meat

of little lamb that bought in the village earlier in the evening. Mter final stir \vith his ladle and burst of steam from the , turns to : 'Wilt thou eat now, uncle?' - and without waiting for reply, which, knows, anytblng but Yes, heaps the contents of the pot to large platter, sets it before , and lifts of our brass cans, fiHed with water, for to wash hands: 'ismillah, and God grant us life.' And we [ , sitting cross-Iegged opposite other eating with the fingers of the right hand. . We eat in silence. Neither of us has ever great talker. Besides, 1 have somehow thrown into mood of brance, thinking of the times that passed before 1 to Arabia, before 1 even met Zayd; and so 1 speak aloud, and speak only silently within myself and to myself, savouring the mood of present through the moods of past. After our meal, as 1 lean against saddle, myfingers playing with the sand, and gaze at the silent Arabian stars, 1 think how good it would to have side someone to whom 1 could speak of that has happened to in those distant years. But there is nobody with except Zayd. is good and faithful and was companion in day of Ioneliness; is shrewd, delicate in perception and weH versed in the ways of man. But as 1 look sidewise at his [ - this clear-cut [ framed in long tresses, now bent with serious absorption over the coffeepot, now turning toward the dromedaries which rest the ground nearby and placidly cllew their cud - 1 know that 1 need quite' another listener: who not only has had part in that early past of mine but would also far away from the sight and smell and sound of the present days and nights: before whom 1 could unwrap the pinpoints of remembrance . so that his eyes might see them and eyes might see them again, and who would thus help to catch own life within the net of words. . nut there is nobody here but Zayd. And Z.d is th~ present.

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-1 E R.IDE, RIDE, tv two dromedaries, d the rnig glides past us. 'It is strange, very strange,' zayd's voice breaks l the . 'What is strange, Zayd?' 'Is it strange, ., that fcw days ago \ were going to and nO\\I cameIs' heads point toward ? 1 sure thou didst not know it thyself that night. Th art wayward Iike badmvi ... like myself. Was it jinn, uncle, \ gave that sudd decision, years ago, to go to thee at - and gave LlOW thy decision to to ? we Ietting ourselves thus blown around the winds because we do kLlO\V what we. want?' 'No, Zayd - thou and 1, we alIow ourselves to blown the winds because we do know what we want: l1earts know it, if thoughts sometimes sIoi-v folIow - but in the end they do catch with hcarts and then we tl1ink we made decision ...'

'N

knew it that day ten years when 1 stood the planks of the ship tI1at was bearing first journey to the Near East, south\vard through the Black Sea, through the opaqueness of \vhite, rimless, [ night, through foggy morning, toward the Bosporus. !1 sea was Ieaden; sometimes foam sprayed tll deck; the pound ing of the engines was Iike the beat of heart. 1 stood at the rail, looking out into the pale opaqueness. Ifyou had asked what 1 \\'as thinking then, what expectations 1 was carrying with into this first venture to the , 1 ~rould hardly to give clear ans\ver. Curiosity - 11aps: but it was curiosity which did not take itself serious 68
,

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ly because it seemed to aim at things of great . fog of uneasiness, \vhich seemed to find something related in the welling fog over the sea, \vas not directed toward foreign lands and the people of coming days. The images of near fu , the strange cities and , the foreign clothes and manners which were to reveal themselves 50 soon to eyes hardJy occupied thoughts. 1 regarded this journey as ' thing accidental and took it, as it were, il1 stride, as pleasing but not too important interlude. At that moment thoughts were perturbed and distracted what 1 took to preoccupation \vith past. The past? Did 1 ha ? 1 was twenty-two years old ... But generation - the generation of those who had born at the turn ofthe century - had lived perhaps quickly any other before it, and to it as if 1 were looking back into long expanse of time. the difficulties and adventures of those years stood before eyes, those longings and attempts and disappointments - and the women - and first assaults Hfe ... Those endless nights under stars, when 011 did know wl1at \val1ted and walked with friend through the empty streets, speaking of ultimate things, quite forgetting ho\v empty the pockets were and how insecure the coming day ... happy discontent which only youth feel, and the desire to change the world and to build it anew .... How should nity shaped so that could live.rightly and in fuHncss? How should their relationships .arranged so that they might break through the loneliness which surrounded every , and truly live in communion? What is good - and what evil? What is destiny? Or, to put it differently: what should do to i>e reaHy, and not merely in pretensions, identical with one's \v lifeso that could say, '1 and dcstiny are '? Dis cussions which never to end ... The literary cafes of Vienna and Berlin, \vith their intermil1abIe arguments ! 'form,' 'style' and 'expression,' about the meaning of political freedom, ! the meeting of 1 and \1 Hunger ,'or understanding, and sometimes for food as \ And tl1c nights spent in passions \vithout restraint: dishevellcd bed ! da\vn, \vhen the excitement of tl1c night \\'as ebbing. and slo\vly grey and rigid al1d desolate: but \vhen the nlOrning had forgottcn the ashes of the da\vnand \valkcd ag;lin \\'itll

70

swinging steps and felt the earth trembIe joyfully under one's feet . '.' excitement of new book new face; searching, and finding balf-replies; and those very moments when the world seemed suddenly, for seconds, to stand still, illumined the flash of understandil1g that promised to reveal something that had never touched efore: to the ques tions ...
HAD BEEN

strange years, those early T\venties in Central gent:ral atmosphere of social and l insecurity hfid given rise to desperate hopefulness which expressed itself in daring in music, painting and the theatre, as well as in groping, often revolutionary enquirjes into the morphology culture; but hand-in-hand witb this forced optimism werit' " spiritual emptiness, vague, cynical relativism out in creasing hopelessness with regard to the future of . In spite of youth, it had not remained hidden from that after the catastrophe of the Great War things were longer right in the broken-up, discontented, emotionaBy tense and high-pitched world. Its real deity, 1 saw, was [ ger of spiritual kind: it was Comfort. No doubt there were stiU individuals who felt and thought in religious terms and made the most desperate efforts to reconcile their l beliefs with the spirit of their civilization, but they were only tivns. average - whether democrat communist, ] worker intellectual- seemed to know l posi tive faith: the worship of material progress, the elief that there could other goal in life than to make that very life continu easier , as the current expression went, 'independent of ', he temples of that faith were the gigantic factories, cinemas, mil laboratories, dance-halls, hydroelectric works; and its priests were the banker~, engineers, politicians, film stars, statisticians, captains of indu'stry, record airmen, and commissars. Ethical frustration was evident in the aB-ud lack of agreement about the meaning of Good and Evil and in the submission of al1 social and mi issues to the l of'ex- pediency' - tbat painted lady of the streets, wil1ing to give self to anybody, at time, whenever she is invoked ... insatiabIe craving after power and pleasure bad, of necessity, led
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to the break-up of Westem society into hostile groups armed to the teeth and, determined to destroy other whenever and wherever their respective interests clashed. And the cultural side, the was the creation of typc whose morality appeared to confined to the question of practical uti1ity alone, and whose highest criterion of right and wrong was material success. " 1 saw how confused and our life had ; how little there was of ] communion between and des pite the stridert, almost hysterical, insistence '' and 'nation'; how far we had strayed from our instincts; and how narrow, how musty our souls had . I'saw all tbls: but somehow it seriously to - as it never seems to to ofthe people around - that answer, at least partial answers, to these perplexities might begained f other than Europe's own cultural ences. Europe was the beginning and the end of our thinking: and even discovery of Lao-tse - at the age of seventeen or so - had not altered outlook in this respect.
. WAS
REAL discovery; 1 had never before heard of Lao-tse and had not the slightest inkling of his philosophy when day 1chanced German translation ofthe Tao-te-king lying the counter of Viennese bookshop. strange and title made mildly curious. Opening the book at random, 1 glanced at of its , aphoristic sections - and felt sudden thrill, like stab of happiness, which made forget surroundings and kept rooted where 1 stood, speHbound, with the book in hands: for in it 1 saw life in its serenity, free of cleavages and conflicts, rising in that quiet gladness which is al\vays to the heart whenever it cares to avail itself of its own freedom ... This was truth, 1 knew it: truth that had a!ways true, although we had forgottenit: and \ 1 recognized it with the joy wi whichone returns to on~'s long lost ... From that time onward, for several years, Lao-tse was to window through which 1 could look out into the glass-clear rc gions of life that was far away from narrowness and self created fears, free CJfthe childish obsession which was forcing us,

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from moment to , always to secure existence anew means of 'material improvemenC atany price. Not that material improvement seemed wrong even unnecessary to : the , 1 conti.,ued to regard it as good and necessary: but at the same ti'11c 1 was convinced that it could never achieve its end - to increase the sum total of happi ness - unlcss it were accompanied reorientation of spirit ual attitude and new faith in absolute values. But how such reorientation could brought about and of what kind the \ valuations \ to was not quite clear to . It would certain ly idle to that would change their aims and thus the direction of their endeavours - as soon as someone started prcaching to , as Lao-tse did. that should oneself up to life instead of trying to grab it to himself and thus to do violence to it. Preaching l, inte1Jectual realization alone could obviously not produce change in spiritual tude of European society; new faith of the heart was needed,a burning surrender to val\les which toleratedho Ifs and Buts: but whence to gain such faith ... ? It someho\v did not enter mind that Lao-tse's ight chal lenge was aimed not merely at passing and therefore change intellectual , but at some of the most fundamental concepts out of which that attitude sigs. Had 1 known this, 1 would forced to conclude that could not pos sibJy attain to that weightless serenity of soul of which Lao-tse spoke, unlcss it summoned the courage to question its own spirit ual and ethical roots. 1 was, of course, too young to arri\'e sciously at such conclusion: ( young to grasp the challenge of ( Chinese sage in al1"its implications and its entire grandeur. , his message shook to innermost; it revealed to the vista of life in which could \vith his des tiny -and so \vith himself: but as 1 did not clearly see how such philosophy could transcend mere contemplation and trans latedfnto reality in the context of the Europcan way of Jife, 1 gradually began to doubt whether it was rea1izable at . 1 had not yet reached the point \ 1 \vould \' ask myselfwhether the European way of life was. in its fdmtls, the only pos sibIe \, In other \vords, like the other people around , 1 was entirely\vrapped in Europe's egocentric cultural outlook. And so. although his voice was never q';lite silel1ced, Lao-tse

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receded, step step, into the background of comtempIative fan tasies, and in time ceased to than the of lovely poetry. continued to read off and and felt each the stab of vision; but each time put the book away with wistful regret that this was only dream to ivory tower. And although 1 felt very at odds with the discordant bitter, greedy world of which 1 was , 1 did not wish to live in ivory tower. St, there was warmth in for of the aims and deavours which at that time flowed through ' intel1ectual atmosphere and fil1ed its literature, art and politics\vith buzz animated controversies - for, however contradictory to another most ofthose aims and endeavours l1v , they had obviously thing in : the l assumption that life could lifted out of its present confusion and 'better ed' if only its outward - economic orpolitical - conditions were bettered. 1 strongly felt even then that materialprogress,by itself, could not provide solution; and although 1 did not quite kno\v where solution might found, 1 was never to evince \vith in myself that enthusiasm which contemporaries had 'progress'. . . Not that 1 was un. 1 had never introvert, and just then 1 was enjoying than usual measure of success in practical affairs. While 1 was hardly inclined to give weight to '' such, woork at theUnited Telegraph - \vhere owing to knowledge of languages, 1 was \v sub-editor in .charge of the news service for the Sdivia press - seemed to avenues into the world. des Westensand its spiritual succcssor, the Romanisches Cafe meeting places of the most outstal1ding writers, artists, jcur nalists, actors, producers of the day - represented something like intellectual rn to 111. 1 stood friendly and sometimcs even famiJiar terms \\'itI1 p~ople \vho famous names, and regarded slf - at lC:lst in outlook if 1 in f - as !of thern. D blcndships and fleeting loves way. Li was . exciting, [ of promise and colourflJl in the varietyof its im plcssions. No, 1 was certainly not ~ only deeply dis satisfled, unsatisfied, not kno\\'ing what I \vas a[ter, and at t11e same time co~vinced, \vith the absurd arrogance of youth, t11t day 1 would kno\v it. And so 1 s\vung along 011 tl1e

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dulum of heart's content and discontent in exactly the same way as other young people were doing in those strange years: for, while of us was ll , only few to consciously . 1 was not unhappy: but inability to share the diverse social, economic and political hopes ofthose around - of group among them - gcew in time into vague sense of ! quite belonging to them, accompanied, vaguely again, desire to belong - to whom? - to of something - of what?
THEN ONE DAY, in thespring of 1922, 1 received letter from uncle Dorian. Dorian \vas mother's youngest brother. relationsblp

had always rather ~hat of friends than of uncle and nephew. was psychiatrist - of the early pupils of Freud - and ! that time headed mental hospital in Jerusalem. As was ! Zionist himself and did ! particularly sympathize with the aims of Zionism - , for that matter, was attracted to the Arabs - he felt lonely and isolated in world which had nothing to offer but work and ineome. Being unmarried, thought of his nephew as likely in his solitude. In his letter referred to those exciting days Vienna whenhe had guided into the new world of psychoanalysis; and concluded: 'Why don't and stay some months with here? 1will for journey coIning and going; will free to tum to whenever like. And while , will living in delightful old stone house \ is l in summer (and damned cold in winter). We shall spend time well together. 1 have plenty of books here, and when get tired of observing the quaint scenery <;Jl,d u, read as as want ...' 1made u mind with the promptness that llas always char acterized major decisions. Next morning 1 informed . Dammert at the Hnited Telegraph that 'itt.usisS siderations' .forced to go to the Near East, and that 1 w<;Juld therefore have to quit the agency within week ... Ifanyone had told at that time that first acquaintance with the world of Islam \ go far beyond holiday experi

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a.nd indeed tumiitg point in life, 1 would have laughed off the idea as utterly preposterous. Not that 1 was im pervious to the allure of countries associated in mind - as in the minds of most Europeans - with the romantic atmosphere of the n Nig/ltS: 1 did anticipate colour, exotic customs, picturesque encounters; but it never occured to to anticipate . adventures in the realm ofthe spirit as well, and the new journey did not seem to hold out special promise of personal ture. II the ideas and impressions that had previously way 1had instinctively related to the Western world-view, hoping to attain to broader reach of feeling and perception within the nl cultural environment known to . And, if you to think of it, how cou1d 1 have felt differently? 1 was only very. veiy young European, brought in the belief that Islam and it stoOO for was more than romantic by-path of man's his tory, not even quite 'respectable' from the spiritual and ethical points of view, and therefore not to mentioned in the same breath, stillless to , with the only two faiths which the West considers fit to taken seriously: Christianity aod Judaism. It was with this hazy, European bias against things Islamic (though not, of course, against the romanticized outward pearances ofMuslim life) that 1set out in the summer of 1922 joumey. If, il1 faimess to myself, 1 ! say that 1 was self absorbed in individual sense, 1 was the less, without knowing it, deeply enmeshed in thatselfabsorbed, culturally egocentric mentality 50 characteristic of the West at ll times.

AND NOW 1 STOOD the planks ! ship way to the East. leisurely jUl had brought to Constanza "and thence into this foggy morning. red sail emerged out of the veils of fog and slipped close to the ship; and because it had visible, knew that the suo was about to break through the fog. few pale rays, thin as threads, f the mist over the sea. Their paleness had some.., thing of the hardness of metaI. Under their pressure the milky . masses of fog settled slowly and heavily over the water, then beni apart, and lI rose to the right Ieft of the sun i'ays in widespread, drifting arcs, like wings.

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'Good morning,' said deep, fuU voice. 1 turned around and recognized the bJack cassock of companion of the previous evening, and the friendly sm1le face which 1 had grown to Jike during the few hours of our acquaintance. Jesuit padre was half PoJish and half French and taught history at co))egein Alexandria: was now returning there from vacation. We had spent the evening after embarkation in lively talk. Although it soon m that we differed widely issues, we had, nevertheless, points of interest in ; and 1 was already mature enough to recognize that here \vas bril liant, serious and at the time humorous mind at work. 'Good moming, Father Felix; look at the sea.. .' Daylight and colour had up with { sun. We stood in the \ ofthe Sl1ip under the morning wind. Tempted the possibility, 1 tried to determine for myself the movement of colour i11 the breaking \vaves. lue? Green? Grey? It could have blue - but already shimmer of amaranth red, reflecting the sun, glided over the slopc of the wave, while the crest broke up into snowy fi and steel-grey, crinkly rags raced over it. What ago had wave-hill was now trembling - the breaking-open of thousand , independent eddies in whose shaded cavities the amaranth red changed into dcep, satiated green; then the green rose up, chang ing into oscil1ating violet, which at first f back into wine red, but immediately after shot up as turquoise bJue and the crest of the wave, nl~ to break up agam; and again the wblte foam spread i15 net dommeeringly over the writhing water-hills .... And and went the unending play... ' It gave alrnost physical sensation of disquiet never to to grasp tbls play of colours and its eternally changing rhythm. When 1 looked at it quite superficia11y, only from the corncr of , as it were, 1 felt, for seconds, that it might possible to catch 11 this withi integrated image; but delj: berateconcentration, the habit of connecting isolated cept with another, led to nothing but series ofbroken-up, separ ate pictures. But out of this difficulty, this strangely irritating confusiol1, idea 10 with great clarity - or so i1 seerned to at the time - and 1 said, almost involuntarily: "Vhoever could grasp 11 this with his senses \vould to master C1estiny.'

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'1 know what ,' replied Father Felix, 'But why should desire to master destiny? escape from suffering? WouId it ! better ( free of destiny?' ' speak.ing almost like Buddhist, Father Felix. 00 , , regard Nirvana as the goalof being ' 00, certainly not. " We Christians do not aim at the of life and feeling - we desire only to lift life out of the region of the rn:aterial and seosual into the realm of the spirit.' ' is this not renunciation l' 'It is renunciation, young friend. lt is the only way to true , to .. .' The Bosporus opened itself to us, broad \vaterway framed botll sides rocky hIOs. and there could see pil lared, airy palaces, terracedgardens, cypresses rising in their dark height, and old janissary castles, heavy masses of stone hanging over the water like ( nests of birds of prey. As if [ great distance, 1 heard the voice of Father Felix tinue: ' see, the deepest symbol of longing - people's longing - is the symbol ofParadise; find it in religions, always in difft imageries, but the ing is always the same - namely the desire to free from destiny. he people of Paradise had destiny; th~y acquired it only after they succumbed to the temp tation of the flesh and thus [ into \Vhat we Original Sin: the stumbling of the spirit over the hindering urges of ( body, which are indeed l the animal remnants within man's nature. he esscntial, the , the humanly-divine 01' is his soul alone. he soul strives toward light, which is spirit: but cause the Original Sin its way is hampered obstacles arising from the material, non-divine composition of the body and its urges. What ( Christian teaching aims at is, therefore, man's freeing himselffrom the non-essential, ephemeral, carnal aspects of his Ii and returning to his spiritual heritage.' he ancient, twin-towered fortress of Rumili Hissar peared; of its creneHated walls sloped down almost to the water's cdge; the shore, within ( semicircle formed the fortress walls, lay dreaming little Turkish ceJnetery \vith broken-down tombstones. ' so, Father Felix. 1 feel - and this is the feelil1g of people of generation - 1 feel that there is something

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wrong in making distinction between the "essential" and the "non-essential" in the structure of , and in separating spirit and flesh ... in short, 1 agree with your'flenying right eousness to physical urges, to the flesh, to earthbound destiny. desire goes elsewhere: 1 dream of form of life - though 1 must confess 1 do not see it clearly as yet - in which the entire , spirit and fl~sh, would strive after deeper and deeper fulfilment of his Self - in which the spirit and the senses would not enemies to another, and in which c,ould achieve unity witllin himself and with the meaning of his des- . tin, 50 that the summit of his days could say, "/ destiny." , 'That was the Hellenic dream,' replied Father Felix, 'and where did it lead? First to the Orphic and Dionysian mysteries, then to Plato Plotinus, and so, again, to the inevitable that spirit and flesh are opposed to another ... make the spirit free from the domination of the flesh: this is the meaning of Christian salvation, the meaning of our belief in the Lord's self-sacrifice the Cross.. .' Here, interrupted himself and turned to with twinkle: ', 1 fiill not always missionary pardon if 1 speak to of faith, which is not yours ' 't 1 ,' 1 assured . 'Yes,' said Father Felix, '1 know; the lack of faith, rather the inability to ; is the central i1lness of our time. , like so others, living in illusion which is thousands of years old: the i1lusion that intellect alone give direction to man's striving. the intellect reach spritual know ledge itself because it is too absorbed in the ment of material goals; it is faith, and faith alone, that re lease us from such absorption.' 'Faith ... ?' 1 asked. ' again bring in this word. There is one thing 1 can't understand: say it is impossible to attain through intellect alone to knowledge and to righteous ; faith is needed, say. 1 agree with entirely. ut how does achieve faith if has ? Is there \ to it - 1 , way to our wi1l1' ' dear friend - will alone is no.t enough. way is only opened God's grace. ut it is always opened to who prays from the innermost of his heart for enlightenn1ent.'

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' pray! But when is 1 to do this,Father , 1 ready has faith. You choose to lead around in circle - for if prays, must already ~nvinced of the existence of Him to whom prays. How did to this conviction? hrough his intellect? Would not this amount to admitting that faith found through the intellect? And from that, "grace" anything to somebody who has never had experience of this kind '/' priestshrugged his shoulders, regretfully, it seemed to : 'If has not to God himself, should allow himself to guided the experiences of others who experienced .. .'

FEW LATER we landed at Alexandria and the same aftemoon 1 went to Pa1estine. he train swept straight as arrow through the aftemoon and the soft, humid Delta landscape. Nile canals, shaded the sails of barges, crossed our path. SmaJl towns, dust-grey clusters of houses and lighter minarets, and went. Villages consisting of box-shaped mud huts swept past. Harvested cotton fields; sprouting sugar-cane fields; abundantly overgrown palms over village ; water buffa]oes, bIack, heavy-limbed, now going without guide from the muddy pools in which they had wallo\ving during the day; In the distance, in long garments: they seemed to Boat, so light and clear was the air under the high, sky of glass. the banks of the reeds swayed in the wind; women in bIack tulle c.loaks \vere scooping water into earthenware jars: wonderful women, s]en der, 10ng-limbed; in their wa]k they reminded of 10ng-stem med plants that sway tenderly and yet fu1] of strength in the wlnd. Young girls and matrons had the same floating walk. he dusk grew and flowed like the breath of some great, rest ing, living being. As tbe slim were walking homeward from the fields, their movernents appeared lengthened and at tbe same ti lifted out of the slowly disappearing day: step seemed to existence of its own, rounded in itself: between eter nity and eternity always that step. This appearance oflight es and sD100thness was perhaps due to the exhilarating g light of the Nile Delta - perhaps also to own rest]essness

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at seeing , new things - whatever the cause, 1 sudden l felt in myself the weight of : the weight of deliberate rpo iri actions. 1 thought to myself, 'How difficult it is for, us to attain to rea1ity... We always try to grab it: but it does not like to grabbed. l where it ovewhelms does it surrender itself to .' he step of the Egyptian field labourers, already 10st in dis tance and darkness, continued to swing in mind 1ike of high things. We reached 'the Suez ], made turn at right angle, and glided for while toward the al011g the grey-black bank. It was like drawn-out melody, this 10ng li of the ! at night. moonlight turned the waterway into something like l but dream-broad way, dark band of shining metal. sati ated earth of the Nile valley had with astonishing rapidity made for chains of sand dunes which the l both sides with paleness and sharpness rarely to seen in any other night landscape. In the listening silence stood, here and there, the skeleton of dredge. Beyond, the other bank, l rider rushed , rushed - hardly seen and already swaHowed the night ... What great, simple stream: from the Red Sea, through the itter Lakes, to the Mediterranean Sea - right across desert - so that the Indian might beat the quays of ... At Kantara the trainjourney \vas interrupted for whi1e and lazy ferry carried the traveHers across the si1ent \vater. was almost an before the departure of the Palestinian train. 1 sat down before the st'ation building. air was warm and dry. was the desert: to the right and to the left. Shimmering grey, smudged over, broken through isolated barking - haps it was jackals, perhaps dogs. beduin, heavi1y 10aded with saddlebags made of bright carpet cloth, from the ferry and walked toward group in the distance, \vhich nl now 1 recognized as motionless and crouching camels, ready saddled for the . It seemed that the new arrival had been expected. threw his saddlebags over of the anima1s, few words were exchanged, the men mounted and, at the same moment, the camels rose, first their hind legs, then ontheir forelegs - the riders rocked foward and back\vard - then they rode away with soft, swishing sounds, and for while could

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fol1ow { light-coloured. swaying bodies of { animals and the wide. brown-and-white-striped beduin cloaks. railway workman strol1ed toward . wore blue over 11 and seemed { lame. lit his cigarette from mine, then asked , in broken French: 'ou are going { Jerusalem?' And when 1 said Yes, tinued: 'For the first ?' I nodded. was ! to go , { turned back and said: 'Did over there { big caravan from { Sinai Desert? No? Th along, let us visit {. have time.' soles of our shoes crunched in { sand as we walked through the silent emptiness narrow, weH-tdd path wmch led into { dunes. dog barked in { darkness. As we went , stumbling over low thornbushes, voices reached ears - confused, mufRed, as of people - and { sharp and nevertheless soft smel1 of resting animaI bodies mingIed with the dry desert . Suddenly - just as might see in city, during foggy night, the shimmer of as yet invisibIe Iamp grow from behind street comer and make only the fog sh.ine - narrow streak of Iight appeared from down below, as if from under ground, and climbed steeply into the dark air. It was { shine of fire, coming from deep gorge between two sand dunes, so thickl)' covered with thornbushes that could not see its , 1 could now clearly hear men's voices, the speakers were'still invisible. 1 heard { breathing of camels, and how { rubbed against another in the narrow . big, black shadow fell over { light, ran { opposite slope and down again. After few more steps 1 could see it great circle of crouching cameIs with heaps of pack-saddles and bags here and there, and among them the figures of . animal smell was sweet and heavy like wine. Sometimes of the cameIs moved its body, which was smudged out of its shape the darkness around it, lifted its neck and drew in the night air \vith snorting sound, as if sighing: and thus 1 heard fo[ the first time { sighing ofcameIs. sheep bleated softly; dog growled; and everywhere outside the gorge the !light was black and starless. It was already late; 1 had to get !!: ( the station. But 1 walked very sIo\vly,down the path which we had , dazed and strangely shaken, as mysterious experience which had
F

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caught bold of comer of beart and would not let go. through the Sinai Desert. 1 was exbaustOO, sleepless from the cold of tbe desert night and the rocking ofthe train over rails resting loose sand. Opposite sat in voluminous brown . also was freez ing and bad wrapped his [ in his headcloth. sat cross legged the bench, and bls knees lay curvOO sword in scabbard with silver. It was nearly moming. You could almost recognize the outlines of the dunes outside, and the cactus bushes. I still remember how tbe dawn broke - grey-black, paint ing shapes, slowly drawing outlines - and how it graduaHy lifted the sand dunes out of the darkness and built tbem into har monious masses. In the growing half-light, group of tents and rushed , and near them, silver-grey, like fog tains in the wind, fishing nets spread verticaHy between poles for drying: fisblng nets in the desert - blowing in the morning wind - dream veils, transparent, unreal, between night and day. tbe right was the desert; to the left the sea. the shore lonely camel-rider; perhaps had riding night; now to asleep, slumped in the saddle, and they both rock 00, man and camel, in rhythm. Again black beduin tents. Already there were women outside \vith jars their heads, ready to go to the weU. Out " ~be half-light that grew into light diaphanous world was emerging, moved in visible pulses, wonder of all that is sirnple and never end. sun struck out over the sand with broader and broader rays and the greyness of dawn burst into an orange-golden fire work. We sped through the oasis of A1-Arish, through colon nadOO cathedrals of palms with thousand pointed arches of palm fronds and brown-green latticework oflight and shade. 1 saw woman with fiHed jar her head coming from the well and going slowly path under the palms. She wore red-and blue dress with long train and was lilce high lady from legend. he palm orchards of AI-Arish disappeared as suddenJy tbey had . We were now travelling through shell-coloured light. Qutside, behind the shaking windowpanes, stillness such
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as 1 never had thought po!'sible. U [ns and movements were devoid of yesterday and tomorrow - they were simply there, in heady uniqueness. D~licate sand, built up the wind into' soft hillocks that glowed p:lle orange under the sun, like very old parchment, only softer, k~s brittle in their breaks and curves, swinging in sharp, decisivc violin strokes the summits, infi n;tely tender in the flank~, with translucent water--colour sha dows - purple and Iil l rusty pink - in the shallow dips and hollows. Opalescent cloutls. cactus bushes here and there and sometimes long-stemmed. hard grasses. twice 1 saw , barefooted and camel loaded with palm fronds which they wcre carrying somewhere to where. 1 felt enwrapped the great landscape. Several times we stoppcd at smal1 stations, usua11y than \ barracks oftimtler and tin. Brown, tattered boys around with baskets and olfered figs, hard-boiled eggs and fresh, flat loaves bread for sa/c. beduin opposite rose slow Iy, unwound his headcloth :d opened the window. His was thin, brown, sharply drawJ1, those hawk faces which al ways look intently ahead. bought piece cake, turned around and was about to sit down, when his fel1 ; , without word, broke 11is cake in two and offered half. When saw and astonishment, smiled - and 1 saw that the smile fitted his as we11 as the intentness moment ago - and sl.1id word which 1 could not under stand then but now know was ta/addal- 'grant the favour.' 1 took the cake and thanked with nod. Another traveller wore, with the exceptiol1 ofhis red fez, European clothes and sma11 tradcr - intervened as translator. In halt ing English said: ' say, you trave11er, trave11er; your way and his way is to gether.' . When 1 now think thi:; little occurrence, it seems to that 11 later love for the character must . influen ced it. For in the gesture of this beduin, who, over ll bar riers ' strangeness, sensetl friend in accidental travelling companion and broke bread with him, 1 must already have fclt the breath and the step humanity burden. After short while old Gaza, castle mud, living its forgotten sand htw cactus wa1ls. beduin

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collected his saddlebags, saluted with grave smile and nod and left the carriage, sweeping the dust behind with the lorig train of his cloak. Two other beduins stood outside the plat form and greeted i with handshake and kiSs both cheeks. he English-speaking trader put his hand : ' along, still quarter-hour .' Beyond the sation building caravan was encamped; they were, companion informed , beduins from northem ijaz. had brown, dusty, wild-warm faces. Our friend was among them. appeared to person of some account, for they stood in loose semicircle around and answered his questions. trader spoke to th and they tumed toward us, friendly - and, 1 thought, somewhat superciliously - considering our urban existence. atmosphere of freedom surrounded them, and 1 felt strong desire to understand their lives. air was dry, vibrating, and seemed to the body. It loosen cd stiffness, disentangled thoughts and made them lazy and still. There was qua1ity oftimelessness in it which made ll things seen and heard and smeHed assume distinct values in their own right. It began to dawn that people who from the environment of the desert must sense in way quite dif ferent from that people in 11 other regions; they must free from obsessions - perhaps also from dreams peculiar to inhabitants of colder, richer lands, and certainly from oftheir limitations; and because they to rely more in timately' their own perceptions, these desert dwellers must set quite different scale values to the things the world. Perhaps it was presentiment of coming upheavals in own life that gripped that first day in Arab country at the sight of the beduins: the presentiment of world which lacks defining limits but is, .the less, never formless; which is fuHy rounded in itself - and nevertheless sides: world that was soon to own. Not that 1 was then conscious of what the future held in store ; of course not. It was, rather, as when you enter strange house for the first time and indefinable smeH in the hallway gives you dimly hint of things which will in this house, and will happen to you: and if they are to joyful things, you feel stab of rap ture in your heart - and you wilJ remember it much later, when

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those happenings have long since taken place, and you will tell yourself: ' this 1 have sensed long ago, thus and in . other way, in that first moment in the .' -2 blows through the desert, and for while Zayd thinks we going to have another sandstorrn. But al though sandstorm , the wind does not leave us. It fol lows us in steady gusts, and the gusts flow together into single, unbroken sough as we descend into sandy valley. lm village in its , consisting several settlements surrounded mud waH- is veiled in mist whirling sand dust. This is kind ofwind hole: every day from dawn to sun set the wind beats here with strong wings, settling down during the night, only to rise again the next 'moming with renewed force; and the palm trees, eternaHy pressed down its blows grow to their fuH height but remain stunted, close to the ground, with broad-spread fronds, always in danger from the encroaching dunes. village would have long ago buried in the sands had not the inhabitants planted rows of tamarisks around every orchard. These taH trees, more resistant than palms, form with their strong trunks and ever-green, rustIing branches living waH around the plantations, offering them doubtfuI security. We alight before the mud house ofthe village amir, intending to rest here during the heat. qh1 set aside for the ception of guests is bare and poverty-stricken and displays only small straw mat before the stone coffee hearth. But, as usual, hospitality overcomes poverty': for hardly have we taken our places the mat when friendly fire of twigs crackles the hearth; the ringing sound of the brass mortar in which feshI-sted coffee beans are being pounded ,gives livable character to the room; and mighty platter piled with light brown dates meets the hunger of the travellers. Our host - smaH, Iean old with rheumy, squinting eyes, clad only in cotton tunic and headcloth - invites us to . take of this fare: ' God give life; this house is your house, eat in the of God. This is we have' - and makes apologetic
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gesture with his nd, single movement in "" the whole weight of bls fate is expressed with that artless power evoca tion so peculiar to people who live close to their instincts - 'but the dates are ! bad. Eat, wayfarers, of what we offer you .... he dates are reaUy among the best 1 have ever eaten; and the host is obviously pleased our hunger which satisfy. And goes : 'he wind, the wind, it makes our life hard; but that is God's wiU. he wind destroys our plantations. We must always strug g1e to keep them from being Covered sand. It has ! always thus. In earlier times there was not so much wind here, and . the village was big and rich. Now it has grown smaH; of our young going away,for ! everyone bear such life. he sands are closing in us day day. Soon there wiH room left for the pals. his wind ... But we do ! complain... As you know, the Prophet - God bIess him - told us: "God says, Revile n' destiny,for, behold - / destiny ..." , 1 must have started, for the old stops speaking and looks at attentively; and, as if comprehending why 1 started, sm.iles with almost woman's smile, strange to see in that tired. wom-out face, and repeats softly. s if to himself: '. . . behold, / am destiny' - and in the nod with which companies his words lies proud, silent his own l in"life; and never have 1 seen, even in people, es to reality expressed with so much quiet and sureness. With wide, vague. almost sensual tum of his r describes "circle in the air - circle which encompasses everytng that belongs to this life: the poor, dusky room. the wind and its etemal roar. the relentless advance of the sands; longing for happiness, and resignation to what ! changed; the platter fu1l of date!l; the struggling orchards behind their shield of tamarisks; t11e f the hearth; young woman's laughLer somewhere in the courtyard beyond: and in these things and in the gesture that has brought them out and together 1 seem to hear the song of stroog spirit wblch knows barriers of circuJ11stance and is at with itself. . 1 carried back to ti long past, to that autumn day in Jerusalem ten years ago. when another poor old spoke to

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87
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DURING UTUMN 1 was living in uncle Dorian's house just inside the Old City of Jerusalem. It rained almost every day and, not being to go , I often sat at the window which overlooked Iarge yard behind the house. his yard belonged to old Arab who was called hi because had performed the pilgrimage to ; rented out donkeys riding carrying and thus made the yard kind of vanserai. Every moming, shortly dawn, loads vegetable5 and fruits were brought there camels the surrounding viI lages and sent out donkeys into the narrow bazaar streets the town. ln daytime the bodies the cameIs could seen resting the ground; were always noisily attending to them and to the donkeys, unless they were forced to take refuge in the stables from the streaming rain. were , ragged , those l and donkey drivers, but they behaved like great lords. When they sat together at meals the ground and ate flat loaves wheat bread with little bit of cheese few olives, 1 could not but admire the nobi1ity and ease oftheir ing and their inner quiet: could see tl13t they had respect themselves and the everyday things of their lives. /,ajji, bling around stick - for suffered arthritis and had swoHen knees - was kind of chieftain among them; they peared to \vithout question. Several timesa day sembled them for and, if it was not raining too hard, they prayed in the : the in single, long row and as their imam in front of them. were like soldiers in the cision of their movements - they would bQ\\' together in the direction of , rise again, and then kneel down and touch the ground with their foreheads; they seemed to foHow the in audible \\'ords of their leader, who bet\veen the prostrations stood barefoot his carpct. eyes closed, arms folded over his chest, soundlessly movil)!! his Ilps and ob'v"iously lost in deep absorption: could see that w...s praying with his whole soul. . Jt somehow disturbed to see so (:3.1 combined

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with almost mechanical body movements, and d 1 asked the hajji, who understood little English: 'Do you really li that God expects you to show i your respect repeated bowing and kneeling and prostration? Might it not ....: better only to look into oneself and to pray to Him in thc 8tilloc:::58 of ' ? Why alI these movements of
bod?'

As soon as 1 had uttered these words 1 felt , for 1 had not intended to injure the old man's religious feelings. But the hajji did not in the least offended. smi1ed with 00 toothless mouth and replied: 'f,low else then should we worship God? Did not create both, soul and od, together? And tOO being so, should man nqt with 00 body as well as with his soul? Listen, 1 will tell why we Muslims pray as we pray. We turn toward the , God's holytemple in , knowing that the faces of Muslims, wherever they , turned to it in prayer, and that we are 1ike body, with im as the centre of our thoughts. First we stand upright and recite from the 01 Koran, in that it is is Word. given to that upright and steadfast in life. hen we say, "God is the Greatest," reminding ourse1ves that deserves to wor shipped but i; and bow down deep we honour im all, and praise His power and glory. Thereafter we pros trate ourselves foreheads because we feel that we are but dust and nothingness before , and that is Creator and Sustainer . we lift our faces from the ground and remain sitting, praying that forgive us our sins and stow His us, and guide us aright. and give us health and sustenance. h we again prostrate ourselves the ground and touch the dust witl1 our foreheads before the might and 'the glory of the . After that, \ve rcmain sitting and that bIess the Prophet Muhammad who brought is message to us, just as blessed the earlier Prophets; that bless us as weH, and those who follow the right guidance; and we ask Him to give us of the good of this world and of the good of the world to . In the end we turn our heads to the right and to the left, saying, " and the grace of God " - and thus greetaH who righteous, wherever they . 'It was thus that our Prophet used to pray and taught his fol

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lowers to for ll times, 50 that ( might \\;llingly surren der themselves to God - which is what Islam - and so at with Him and with their own destiny: he old did not, of course, use exactly tl\cse words, but this was their mea.ning, and this is how 1 (. ears later 1 realized that with his simple explanation the l,; had opened to tnefirst door ( Islam; but , long before an thought that Islam might own faith entered mind, 1 began to feel unwonted hut \l1 1 saw, as 1 often did, standing barefoot his rug, straw , the earth, with his arms 'olded his chest and his head lowered, entirely submerged \vithin himself, oblivious of what was going him, whether it was in or the sidewa1k of busy street: at with

himself.
STONE ' of which Dorian had \vritten was delightful. It stood the fringe ofthe Old the Jaffa .Gate. Its wide, high-eeilinged rooms secmed to sat

urated with memories of the patrician life th'lt had passed thrOUg11 them in earIier generations and the wal1s reverberated with the living present surging into tOOm fom the ba:zaar - sights and sounds and sms that were unlike .1thig 1 had experienced before. From the roof terrace 1 could see the sharply outIined of the Old City with its network of irregular streets and alleys ved in stone. At the other end, seeming1y in its mighty panse, was the site ofSolomon's l; the I-qs Mosque the most sacred after those of and Medina - stood its farthest ri, and the Dome of the Rock in the cel1tre. Beyond it, the 01d City waUs fell off toward the 1l of Kidron; and 00'" yond the 11 grew soft1y rounded, barren hills. their slopes thinly spotted with olive trees. Toward the east there was litt1e more fertility, and you could see there garden sloping down to ward the road, dark-green. hedged in walls: the Garden of Gethsemane. From its midst shone between oJivc trees and presses the golden, onion-shaped domes of the Russian Church. Like oscil1ating brew from ana1chemist's retort. l and nevertheless fu of thousand undefinable colours, beyond

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words, beyond en the grasp thougbt: thus could Crom the Mount li the VaUCY ' tbe Jordan and the Dead Sea. Wavy bills and wavy hs, outlined, breath-like, gainst opalescent air, with the deep-blue Itreak of tbe Jordan and thc rounding of tbe Dead sea - and still fartber beyond, 0 othet world in itself, tbe dusky s of : landscape of such an incredible, multitonn beauty that your heart trembled with excitement. Jerusalem was entirel~ new world to . here were bis toric memories seeping from every corner of the ancient city: streets that had beard lsai preach, cobblestones over which Christ had walked, walls that had old when tbe step of Roman legionaries echoed from them, arches over doorways tbat bore inscriptions ofSaladin's time. here was the deep blue of tbe skies, wblch migbt not unfamiliar to someone who knew other Mediterranean countries: but to , who had grown up in far less friendly climate, tbis blueness was like and promise. he bouses and streets to covered witb tender, oscillating glaze; the were fu of taneous movement and grand ofgesture. people -tbat is, the Arabs: for it was tbey wbo from tbe verybeginning impressed themselves consciousness as the people oftbe land, people who had grown out of its soi1 and its history and were with tbe surrounding air. heir garments were colourful and of Biblical sweep of drapery, and oftbem.Jel1a11 or beduin (for you could often see beduins who to town to orsell tbeir goods), wore tbem in manner quite his own, ever so 51ightly differenHrom tbe others, as ifhe had invented personal fashion tbe spur of tbe moment. In front of Dorian'5 house, at di5tance of perhaps forty yards, rose tbe 5teep, time-wom walls ! David's Castle, wblch was part of tbe ramparts ! the Old City - typical medieval . ra citadel, probably erected Herodian foundations, with 51im watchtower like minaret. (Although it has direct con nection witb ing David, the Jews always called it after him because bere, Mount Zion, tbe old royal palace is said to stood.) the Old City side there was 10w, broad tower, througb whicb tbe gateway went, and bridge ! stonelP'ched across the old moat to tbe gate. ! arched bridge w3s parently customary place of rendezvous for beduins when ~ey

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bad c:casion to into the city. day 1 noticed duin standing there without motion, 5ilhouetted again5t the silver-grey sky like figure from old legend. His face, with sharp cheekbones framed in 5hort, red-brown beard, expression of deep gravity; it was sombre, as if expected something and yet did not fee) expectant. His wide, brown-and wblte-striped cloak was wom and tattered - and the fanciful idea to , 1 do not know why, that it had worn out in of dange~' and flight. Wa5 , perhaps, of that handful of warriors who had accompanied young David s flight from dark jealousy of Saul, his king? Perhaps David was asleep just now, hiding somewhere in cave in the Judean hills, and this , this faithful and brave friend, had stealthily with pani into the l city to find out how Saul felt about leader and whether it was safe for him to retum. And now this friend of David was waiting for his comrade, of dark forebodings: it was not good news that would bring David ... Suddenly beduin moved. 5tarted walking down , and dream-fantasy broke.And then 1 _~th start: this was an , while those others, those figures of the Bible - were Hebrews! But astonishment was only of moment's duration; for 11 at once 1 knew, \vith that clarity which sometimes bursts within us like lightning and lights the world for length of hrtt, ihat David and David's time, like and Abraham's , were closer to their roots - and 50 to the beduin of to-day - than to the Jew of today, who claims to their descendant ... 1 often sat the stone balustrade below the Jafa Gate and watched the throng ;of people going into coming out of the Old City. Here they rubbed against other, jostled other, Arab and Jew, all possible variations ofboth. There were strong-boned fellahin with their white or brown headcloths or orange-coloured turbans. There were beduins with sharp, clear-cut and, almost without exception, lean faces, wearing their cloaks in strangely self-confident manner, frequently with hands blps and elbows wide apart, as if they took it fOT gran ted that everyone would make way for them. were peasant women in black or calico dresses embroidered ' \vhite across bosom, often carrying baskets their heads and

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moving with supple, easy grace. Seen [ behind, woman of sixty could taken for young gitl. heir eyes also seemed to remain clear and untouched age - unless they pened to affected trachoma, that evil Egyptian' disease which is the curse of all countries east of the Mediterranean. there were the Jews: indigenous Jews, wearing tarbush and wide, voluminous cloak, in their facial type strongly sembling the Arabs; Jews from Poland and Russia, who seemed to with them so of the smal1ness and narrowness of "their past lives in Europe that it was surprising to tblnk they claimed to ofthe same stock as the proud Jew [ Morocco Tunisia in his white , But although the Jew~ were so obviously out of nn with the that rounded them, it was they who set the tone of Jewish life and politics and thus seemed to responsible for the almost visible friction between Jews and Arabs. What did the average European know of the Arabs in those days? Practical1y nothing. When to the Near East brought with him some romantic and notions; and if was well-intentioned and inteHectuaHy honest, had to ad mit that had idea at all about the Arabs. 1, too, before 1 to Palestine, had never thought of it as Arab land. 1had, of course, vaguely known that '' Arabs lived there, but I imagi.ned them to only nomads in .desert tents and id oasis dwellers. Because most of what 1 had read about Palestine in earlier days had written Zionists - who naturally had only their wn problems in view - 1 had not realized that the towns also were full of Arabs - that, in fact, in 1922 there lived in Palestine nearly five Arabs to every Jew, and that, therefore, it was Arab country to far blgher degree than country of Jews. When 1 remarked ts to Mr. Ussyshkin, chainnan of the Zionist Committee of Action, whom 1 met during that ti, 1 had the impression that the Zionists were not inclined to give 1 consideration to the fact of Arab maJority; did they seem to attribute real importance to the Arabs' opposition to Zionism. Mr. Ussyshkin's response showed nothing but tempt ( the Arabs: ITh~rc i.s eal Arab movement against ; that is, ffiQ'It.:ment with roots" in the people. that regard as

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position is in reality nothing but the shouting of few disgrun tled agitators. It will collapse of itself within few months at most few years.' This argument was far from satisfactory ( . From ( . beginning 1 had feeling that ( whole idea of Jewish settle ment in Palestine was artificial, and, what was worse, (! it threatened ( transfer ll ( complications and insoluble lems ofEuropean life into country which might have remained happier without them. Jews were not ll coming it returns ( one's homeland; were rather bent making it into homeland conceived patterns and with European aims. In short, ( were strangers within ( gates. And 801 did not find anything wrong in the Arabs' determined resistance ( ( idea of Jewish homeland in their midst; ( contrary, 1 immediately realized that it was the Arabs who were being imposed and were rightly defending themsleves against such imposition. In ( Balfour Declaration of 1917, which promised ( Jew8 'national ' in Palestine, 1 saw l politicalmanoeuvre designed ( foster ( old princip1e, ( colonial , of 'divide and '. In ( case of Palestine, this ciple was ( flagrant as in 1916 ( British had promised ( ruler of , Sharif Husayn, as price [ his help against ( Turks, independent state which was ( prise countries between the Mediterranean Sea and ( sian Gulf. not l broke their promise later cluding with France ( secret Sykes-Picot Agreement (which tablished French Dominion Syria and the Lebanon), but also, implication, excluded Palestine [ ( obligations they had ssd with regard ( the Arabs. Although of Jewish origin myself, 1 conceived [ ( outset strong objection ( Zionism. Apart [ personal sym pathy [ the Arabs, 1 considered it immora] that immigrants, assisted foreign Great Power, should [ abroad with ( avowed intention of attaining ( majority in ( country and thus ( dispossess the people ....'hose country it had sincc time immemoria1. Consequently, 1 was inclined ( take ( sidc of ( Arabs whenever the Jewish-Arab question \vas brought - which, of course, happenedvery often. This attitude of mine was beyond ( comprehension of practically ( J~ws with

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whom 1 in contact during those tb. 1hey could not understand what 1 saw in the Arabs wbo, according to them, were more than mass backward people whom they looked upon witb feeling not much different from tbat the European settlers in Central Africa. were oot in tbe least i~terested in what the Atabs thought; almost ofthem took pains to learn ra; and everyone accepted without question .the dictum that Palestine was the rightful heritage of the Jews. I.still remember brief discussion 1 had this score with Dr. Chaim Weizmann, the undisputed leader of the Zionist move ment. had of his periodic visits to Palestine (his residence was, 1 believe, in London), and 1 met in the house of Jewish friend. could not but impressed the boundless energy of this - energy tbat manifested itself even in his bodily movements, in the 10ng, springy stride with which up and down the room - and the power of intellect revealed in the broad forehead and the penetrating g1ance of his eyes. was talking of the l difficulties which were setting the dream of Jewish National , and the insuf ficient response to this dream among l abroad; and 1 had the disturbing impression that even he, like most of the Zionists, was inc1ined to transfer the moral responsibility for that was happening in Palestine to the 'outside world'. his im pelled to break through the deferential hush with which the other l present were 1istening to , and to ask: 'd what about the s?' 1 must have committed afaux pas thus bringing jarring note into the conversation, for Dr. Weizmann turned his face slo\vly toward , put down the had holding in his hand, and repeated question: 'What about the s ... l' 'Well- how ever hope to make Palestine your land in the face of the vehement opposition of the Arabs who, after , are in the majority in this country?' Zionist leader sltrugged his shoulders and answered drily: 'We expect they won't in majority after few years.' ~Perhapsso. have dealing with this problem for years and must know the situation better than 1 do. But quite apart from the political difficulties which Arab opposition

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not put in way - does 1\ot the 1 aspect of the questicn ever bother you? Don't yo1.i think that it is wrong your to displace the people who always lived in this country?' 'ut it is u country,' replied . Weizmann, raising his brows. 'We doing than taking back what we wrongly deprived of.' ' you away from Palestine for nearly two thou sand years! f that you had rufed this country, and hardly ever the whole of it, for less than five hundred years. Oon't you tblnk that the Arabs could, with equal justification, demand Spain for themselves - for, after ll, they held sway in Spain for nearly seven hundred years and lost it entirely n1 five hundred years ago?' . Weizmann had \'isibly impatient: 'Nonsense. Arabs had only conquered Spain; it had their original homeland, and so it was n1 right that in the end they were driven out the Spaniards.' 'Forgive ,' 1 retorted, 'but it seems to that thereis some bistoric!:il ovetsight . After , the Hebrews also as to Palestine. Long before them were other Semitic and - tribes settled - the , the Edornites, the Phi1istines, the Moabites, the ittites. Those tribes continued living ii.l the days of the Jdngdoms of Israel and Judah. continued living the Romans drove ancesto.rsaway. Iiving today. Arabs who scttled in Syria and Palestine after their in the seventh century v"ere alv.ays only small rninority ofthe popula tion; the of what we describe today as Palestinian or Syrian "Arabs" are in reality only the Arabianized, original inhabitants of the country. Sorne of them Muslims in the course of centuries, others remained c:hristians; the uslims naturally inter-married with their coreligionists frorn . But you denythat the bulkofthosepeople in Palestine, who speak , whether uslirns Christians, direct-line descendants of the original inhabitants: original in the of having lived in this country centuries before the Hebrews to it?' . Weizmann smiled politely at outburst and turned the conversation to other topics. Ldid not feel about the outcome of intervention. 1

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. of course not expected of those present - least ofall Dr. Weizmann himself - to subscribe to conviction that the Zionist idea was mghly vu1nerabIe the mora1 pjane: but 1 had hoped that defence of the Arab cause would at least give rise to some sort of uneasiness the part of the Zionist leadersblp

uneasiness which might bring about

introspection and

thus, perhaps, greater readiness to admit the existence of sible moral right in the opposition of the Arabs... None of tbls had about. Instead, 1 found myself facing blank wall of staring eyes: censorious disapproval of temerity, wblch dared question the unquestionabIe right of the Jews to the land of their forefathers ... How was it possibIe, 1 wondered, for people endowed with so creative intelligence as ~be Jews to think of the Zionist Arab conflict in Jewish terms alone? Did they not realize that the problem of the Jews in Palestine , in the long , solved only through friendly co-operation with the Arabs? Were they so hopelessly blind to the painful future wmch their must bring? - to the struggles, the bitterness and the hatred to which the Je\vish island, if temporari1y successful, would forever remain in the midst of hostile Arab sea ? And how strange, 1 thought, that nation which had suffered 50 wrongs in the course of its long and sorrowful diaspora was now, in single-minded pursuit of its own goal, ready to flict grievous wrong nation - and nation, too, thatwas innocent of that past JewisI1 suffering. Such , 1 knew, wasnot unknown to history; but it made , theless, very sad to see it enacted before eyes.
IME absorption in the poHtical scene in Pales tine was grounded not merely in sympathy for the Arabs and worry about the Zionist experiment, but also in revival of journalistic interests: for 1 had special correspon dent ofthe Frankfurter Zeifllng, then ofthe most outstanding newspapers in Europe. This connection had aboutalmost accident. evening, while sorting out old papers which were clutter ing of suitcases, 1 found the press card issued to year belore in Berlin as representative ofthe United Telegraph.

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1 was about to tear it up when Dorian grabbed hand and jokingly exclaimed: 'Don't! Ifyou present this card at the f ofthe High m missioner, will receive fewdays later invitation to lunch at Govemment House ... Joumalists are very desirable tures in this country.' Although 1 did tear the useless card, Dorian's joke struck response in mind. 1 was, of course, not interested in [ cheon invitation from Government House - but why should 1 not uti1ize the opportunity of being in the Near East at time when so few joumalists from Central Europe could travel there? Why should 1 not resume journalistic work - andnot with the United Telegraph but with one ofthe great ds? And as suddenly as 1 had always been wont to make important deci sions, 1 now decided to break into real joul"..cilism. Despite year's work at the United Telegraph, 1 had direct connection with any important newspaper, and as 1 had never yet published anything in wn , it was entirely known to the dai1ypress. his.. liowever, did not discourage . 1 wrote an article some of impressions in Palestine and sent copies of it to less than ten German newspapers with proposal to write series of articles the Near East. his was in the last months ofl922 - ti of the most catas tropblc.inflation in ran. he press was hard-put to survive, and on1y very few newspapers could afford to foreign correspondents in hard currency. And so it was ! in the least surprising that after another of the ten newspapers to wblch 1 had sent the sample article replied in more or less polite terms of refusal. Only of the ten accepted sugges tion a.nd,apparently impresSed what 1 had written, appointed file its roving special correspondent in the Near East, enclosing, in addition, contract for book to written return. hat one newspaper was the Frakfurter Zeitung. 1 was almost bowled over when 1 saw that 1 had not merely succeeded in es tab1isng connection with newspaper - and what news paper!'" but had at the first stroke acbleved status that might ' envied an old journalist. hece was, of course, snag in it. Owing to the inflation, the Frankfurter Zeitung couId not in hard currency. he re muneration wblcb they apologetically offered was in tenns of

98 R.OAD German marks; and 1 knew as weH as they did that it would hardly suffice to for the stamps the envelopes wblch would tain articles. But to special correspondent the Frankfurter Zeitung was distinction that far outweighed temporary handicap of not being paid for it. 1 to write articles Palestine, hoping that sooner or later some lucky twist of fortune would 10 travel the Near East. 1 NOW HAD friends in Palestine, both Jews and Arabs. he Zionists, it is true, looked upon with some sort of puzzled suspicion because of the sympathy for the Arabs wblch was so apparent in dispatches to the Frankfurter Zeitung. Evidently they could not make up their rninds whether 1 had 'bought' the Arabs (for in Zionist Palestine people had accustomedto explain almost every happening in terms ) or whether 1 was simply freakish intellectual in love with the exotic. But not Jews living in Palestine at that time were Zionists. Some of them had there not in political , but out of religious longing for the ] Land "and its Biblical associations. this group belonged Dutch friend Jacob de , small, plump, blond-bearded in early forties, who had formerly tau!ht law at of the leading universities in Holland and was now special correspondent of Amsterdam Handels blad and London Daily Express. of deep religious convictions - as 'orthodox' as Jew of Eastem - did not approve the idea of Zionism, for believed that the retum of his people to the Promised Land had to await the ing the Messiah. 'We Jews,' said to than occasion, 'were driven away from the Holy Land and scattered all over the world because we had fallen short of the task God had conferred upon us. We had i to preach His Word, but in our stubbom pride \ began to believe that He.had made us "chosen nation" our wn sakes - and thus we betrayed Him. Now nothing remains for us but to repent and to cleanse our hearts; and when we worthy again to the hear crs is Message, will send Messlah to lead is servants back to the Promised Land .. .'

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'But,' 1 asked. 'does not tbis Messianic idea under1ie Zionist movement as well?Vou know that 1 do not approve of it: but is it not natural desire ofevery people to national of its own l' Dr. de looked quizzically: ' you think that his tory is but series of accidents? 1 don't. It was not without purpose that God made us lose our land and dispersed us; but Zionists do not want to admit this tC' themselves. hey suffer from the same spiritual bIindness t caused our downfal1. he two thousand years of Jewish exile and unhappiness 18ught them nothing. Instead of making ttit to unders18nd the innermoit causes of our unhappiness. they now try to circum vent it, as it were, building "national " foundations provided Western power politics; and in the process ofbuild ing national , they are committing the crime of depriving ano~r people of its : Jacob de Haan's politica1 views naturally made him Ost popular with the Zionists (indeed, short after Heft Pales tine, 1 was shocked to leam that had shot down night teriorists). When 1 knew him, bis social intercourse was limited to very few Jews of his own way ofthought, some EU!opeans, and Arabs. For the Arabs seemed to grcat affection, and they, their part, thoughthighly ofhim andfre quently invited to their houses. As matter ft. at that period th~ \vere not yet universally prejudiced against Jews as such. It was on1y subsequent to the Ba1four Declaration - that is,.after centuries ofgood-neighbourly relations al1d conscious ness of racial kinship - that the Arabs had begun to look upon Jews as political enemies; but in the changed circum stances of the early Twenties, they st clearly differentiated tween Zionists and Jews who were friendly toward them like Dr. de .
S FATEFUL MONTHS of first sojoum among the Arabs set in motion whole train of impressions and refiections; some inarticulate hopes of personal nature demanded to ad mitted to consciousness. 1 bad face to face with life-sense tliat was entirely new 10 . warm, human ,breath seemed to flow out of these

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ple's ood into their thoughts and gestures, with of those painfu1cleavages of the spirit, those phantoms of fear, greed inhibition that made lifeso uglyand so little promise. In the Arabs 1 beganto find something 1 had al\vays unwittingly looking for : emotionalligl1tness of to ques tions of 1ife- sense of feeling, if might it so. In time it most important to meto grasp the spirit of these Muslim l: not because their religion (for at that time 1 knew very lit.tleabout it), but because 1 cecog nized in themthat organic of tJ-l mind and the senses which we Europeans had lost. blight it not possibIe, , better understanding theIife Ofthe Arabs to di5cover the bld den link between' Westetn suffering - the corroding lack [ integration - the roots of that suffering? find out, perhaps, what it was that had us Westerners away ( that solemn freedom of lifewhichthe Arabs seemed to pos sess, even in their social political decay, and which we a1so must have possessed at some earlier time? - el5e how could we haveproduced thegreat act of past, the Gothic drals n; Midd1e Ages, tIie joy of the Renaissance, Rembra:ndt'$ chiar()scuro,the' fugues of and the serene dreams Mozart, prideofthe peacock's tail in the art our peasaIits, and Beethoven's roaring, 10ngiIig ascent toward the misty, hardly peaks which could say, '1 and destiny,are ...' Being unaware oftheir true , we cou1d 10nger right1y use spiritual powers; never again would Beethoven Rembrandtarise aqlOngus. Instead, we now knew only that des perate groping after 'new forriIs ofexpression' in art, sociology, politics, and that bitter st[p~gIe between opposing slogans and meticulously devised, prini::iples; and machines and sky scrapers could do nothing to restore the broken wholeness souls ... And yet - wa5 that 105t spiritual glory of Europe's past 105t forever? Wr.5 it ~ot poss~ble to recover something of it finding out whatw~s ,wr<).ng wlth us? And what at fi.rst hadbe~~h1Jrdly than sympathy for the po1iticalaim5 of 15s,tli()utwar? aPI?e~rance of : Hfe and the emotionals~curityI percelved l lt5 people, un perceptibly changed into somethin~ resembli~g personal quest.

IV

VOICES

-1 E RIDE, AND ZAYD SINGS. dunes lower now and wider , and there the sand gives way to stretches gravel and splintery basalt, and in front , to the south, rise the shadowy outlines of ll ranges: the mountains Jabal Sham
,

verses Zayd's song penetrate in bIurred way into sleepiness, but precisely in the measure that the words escape , they seem to gain wider, deeper significance quite related to their outward meaning. It is of those camel-rider songs so often qear in - chants which sing to keep their aninlals to regular, quick and not to faH asleep themselves - chants of desert to spaces that know neither limits echoes: always sounded in the major key at l tone level, loose and some\vhat husky, coming blgh in the throat, tender Iy fading in the dry air: breath the desert caught in voice. None who has travelled through desert lands will for get this voice. lt is always the same where the earth is , the air hot and wide , and hard. ~e ride, and Zayd sings, as his fiHher must sung him, and 11 the other of his tribe and other tribes thousands of years: for thousands years were needed to mould these intensive, monotonous melodies and to brii1g"them to their final form. Unlike the polyphonous Western music, which almost always tends to cxpress individual feeling, these melodies, with their eternally repeated tone-sequence, seem to nl tonal symbols emotional knowledge shared people - not meant to evoke moods but to mind of own spiritual experiences. were rn 10ng ago out of the atmosphcre of the desert, the rhythms of the ",-ind and nomad , the l wide expanses, the 102

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templati<m mal present: and just as the basic things n life always the same, these melodies are timeless and changeless. Such melodies are hardly thinkable in the West, where poly is aspect not only music but ' feelings and desires. Cool climate, running waters, the sequence four sons: these elements give to life so multiform significance and so directions that Westem must needs have longings and, thus, strong urge to do tblngs the sake do ing. must always create, build and overcome in order to see himself again and again reaffirmed in the complexity of his life forms; and this ever-changing complexity is reflected in his as well. Out the sonorous Westem singing, with tbe voice coming the chest and always playing in severallevels, speaks that 'Faustian' nature which causes Westem , to desire , to strive after witb will to conquer - but perhaps also to miss , and miss it painfully. For, the world ofthe Westemer is world ofhistory: eternal coming, happening, passing away. It laclcs the restfulness staying st; time is , always to viewed with suspi cion; and does the Now carry sound eternity ... the Arab the .desert and steppe, the other hand, bls landscape is enticement to dreams: it is hard like the day and knows twilight offeelings. Outer and the Inner, the 1 and the World, to m not opposite - ! mutually opposed entities, but only different aspects unchanging present; bls is not dom.inated secret Cears; and whenever does tblngs, does them because outward necessity and not 11 desire for inner security demands action. In result, has not progres sed in material achievement as rapidly as the Westerner- but has kept his soul together. FOR HOW LONG, 1 ask myself with alm08t physical start, will zayd, and Zayd's people, to keep their souls together in th, face of the danger that is so insidiousJy, 80 relentlessJy closiqg in them? We living in time in which the East longer in passive in the the advancing West. thousand forces - politicaI,social and economic - m ing at the doors the Muslim world. Willthis world succumb

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to the pressure the Western twentieth century and in the cess lose not only its wn traditional forms but its spiritual roots as well?

-2
THROUGHOUT YEARS 1 spent in the MiddJe East - as sympathetic outsider from 1922 to 1926, and as Mus lim sharing the irns and hopes of the Islamic community ever since - 1 witnessed the steady European encroachment

. Muslim culturallife and political independence; and wherever Muslim peoples try to defend themselves against this encroach ment, European ini invariably labels their resistance, with air of hurt in, as ''. Europe 10ng accustomed to simplifyin this crude way all that is happening in the MiddJe East and to view its cutrent history under the aspect of Westem 'spheres of interest' 10. While everywhere in the West (outside of Britain) public ini has shown sympathy for the Irish struggle for indepen dence (outside of Russia and Germany) for Poland's dream of nationa! resurrection, such sympathy is everextended to simi lar aspirations among the Muslims. West's in argument is always the political disruption and i backwardness of the Middle East, and active Western intervention is sanc timoniously described its authors as aiming not merely at protection of 'legitimate' Western interests but also at securing progress for the indigenous peop~es themselves. 'Forgetting that direct, and benevolent, interven tion from ti disturb nation's development, Western ofMiddJe Eastern affairs always ready to swallc:>w such claims. hey see l the new railroads builtby colonial powers, and not the destruction of country's socia1 fabric;they count the kilowatts ofnew electricity, but not the blows to nation's pride. he same people who would never accepted Imperial Austria's 'civi1izing m.i.ssion' as valid excuse for interventioris in the Balkans indulgent1y accept simi1ar l in the case of the British in Egypt,the Russians in Centra1 Asia, the French in Morocco or the ltalians in Libya. . And lt ! en crosses their minds that of the social and i i1ls from wblch the Middle East is sufi'ering are direct outcome of that Western 'interest'; and that, in addition,

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WeStern intervention invariabty seeks to perpetUate and to widen the a1ready existing inner disroptions and 50 to make it imVOSsible for the peoples concerned to into tbeir Wn. 1 FIRST BEGAN realize tbls in Palestine. in 1922. when 1 observed the equivocal role the British administration with regard to the confliet between the Arabs and the Zionists; and it fully virs to early in 1923. when after months of wandering over Palestine 1 to Egypt. which at that was in almost contiaual upheaval against the British 'proteetor '. s were often thrown at public places frequented British soldiers. tc answered various repressive sures - martial law, politica1 arrests, deportations leaders, prohibitions of newspapers. But of these measures, how ever severe, could deaden the peoj>le's' desire for freedom. Through the entire Egyptian nation went something like wave passionate sobbing. Not in despair:it was rather the sobbing of enthusiasm at having discovered the roots of its own potential strength. Only the rich pashas, owners of the tremendous landed tates, were in those days conciliatory toward British ru1e.. he . innumerable others - including the miserable fel/amn, to whom ofland appeared to bountiful possession for family - supported the freedom movement. One OOy the itin erant newspaper vendors would cry in the streets. 'Allleaders the Wafd arrested order of the tary Oovernor' - but the next day new leaders had taken their places. the gaps were fi1led g and again: the hunger for freedom and the hatred grew. And Europe had only word for it: ''. coming toEgypt in those days had been due to wish to extend the scope ofmy work for the Frankfurter Zeitung to other countries besides Palestine. Dorian's circumstances did not per mit him to finance such tour; but when saw how strongly 1 desired it. advanced smaUsum sufficient for the railway journey from Jerusalem to Cairo and fortnight's 5tay there. l Cairo 1 found lodgings in narrow ll in quarterinhab ited mainly Arab artisans and small Greek shopkeeper5. The landlady was an old Triestine, ta. thickset, us, grey; she drank fTOffi moming till evening heavy Greek wine and floun

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dered from ood into another. was violent,passion temperament that never seemed to found itself; but she was friendly toward and made () well in ber , After week 50, cash w approacblngits end. 1 did not want to retum 80 soon to Palestine and the safety of uncle'5 , 1 bega,n to look around for some other means of subsistence. Jerusalem friend. Dr. de , had given letter of introduction to business in Cir; an'd to him 1 went in search.ofadvice. proved to large, genialHol1anderwith intel1ectual interests far exceeding bls wn 5 activities. From Jacob de Haan's letter leamed that 1 was correspon dent the Fnkf/ Zei/ung,' and when, at his ru"t, 1 showed him of recent articles. raised his eyebrows in astonishment: ' , how old youl' 'Twenty-two.,. 'h tel1 sometblngelse,please:who has heIped you with these articles- de l' 1laughed. 'Ofcourse not. 1wrote them myself. 1always do work myself. why do you doubt it l' shook s head, as if puzzled: ' it's astonisblng ... Wheredid you get the maturity to writesuch stuff? How do you manage to convey in half-sentence almost mystical signifi to things that apparently 50 commonplace7' 1 was fiattered beyond word5 ! the implied compliment, and self-esteem rose accordingly. In the course of our tion, it transpired that newfound acquaintancehad ing in his own business, but thought might to place in gy firm with wblch had dealings. office to which directed lay in ofthe older quar ters Cairo, ! far from lodgings: dingy, narrow lane bordered once-patrician houses now converted into offi.ces and apartments. prospective employer, elderly, bald-headed Egyptian with the face of ii time-mellowed vulture, happened to in of part-timeclerk to take charge of his French correspondence; and 1 was to satisfy him (~a! 1 could fill the role in spite of utter laek of bus'iness . We quickly struck bargain. 1 would to \ nl three hours day; the saJary wascorrespondingly low, l! it would

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enough to for rent and to keep indefinitely in bread, milk and olives. etween lodgings and ! Cairo's red-light dis trict - tangled ! lanes in which the great and little -' resans spent their days nights. In the aftemoon, way 10 work, the lan were empty silent. In the shadow ! window woman's bod would stretch itself languorously; 81 little tables before or another ofthe houses girls were sedate ly drinking coffee in the of grave, bearded and conversing. with every appearance ! seriousness, about things that seemed to lie far all excitement physical aban
.

But in the evening, when 1 was returning , the quarter was wide-awake than other, humming with the tender cords ! Arabian lutes and drums the laughter ! WOmeD. When you walked under the shine of the electric lamps and coloured lantems, at every stepa soft rm would wind itself around neck; the might brown or white - but it al ways jingled with gold and silver chains and bangld and always sme11ed of musk, frankincense an warm animal sklin. You had to very determined 10 keep yourse1ffree of all thesc laughing embraces frorn the callsof hablbi(' dar1ing') and saada lak Cthy happiness'). ou had to thread your way between shim rnering lil that were most1y luscious fair to 100k upon intoxicated you with their suggestive convolutions. Egypt broke over you, Morocco, Algeiia, a1so the Sudan and Nubia, also Arabia, Arnia, Syria, Iran ... in 1 sil ken rt sat side side benches along the ue walls, p1easant1y excited, laughing, out to girls or silentIy king their nargiles. Not 11 ofthem were 'customers': man had simp1y to spend p1easant hour or two in the exhilarating, unconventionaI atmosphere of the quarter ... Sometimes you had to step back before ragged dervish from the Sudan, who sang his begging songs with entranced face and ~ out~ stretched arms. Qouds of incensc from the swinging censer of an itinerant perfume vendor brushed your face. Off and you heard singing in chorus, and you to understand the ing of some of the wblrring, tender Arabic SQunds ... And again and again you heard the soft, rippling voices of lea the animal pleasure of these girls (for they undoubtedly were

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joying themsetves) in their tight-btue, yeHow, red, green, white, gotd-glittering garments of flimsy silk, tuHe, voile damask .:.. andtheir laughter seemed to run with tittle cat-steps the cobbted pavement, rising, ebbing down, and then growing again from other lips . . . . How they could laugh, these Egyptians! How cheerful1y they walked day in, day out over the streets Cairo, striding with swinging steps in their long, shirtlike gs that \vere striped in every colour of the rainbow -lightheartedly, mindedly - so that might thought that the grinding poverty and dissatisfaction and political turmoil were taken seri ously only in relative sense. violent, explosive excitement ofthese people always seemed to readyto make room, without visibte transition, Corperfect serenity and indolence, as if nothing had ever happened and nothing \vere amiss. Because this, most Europeans regarded (and do now) the Arabs as superficial; but even in those early days 1 realized thatthis contempt for the Arabs had grown out of the West's tendency to overestimate emotions that to 'deep', and to denounce as 'superficial' everythig that is light, , weighted. Arabs, 1 felt, had remained free ofthose inner sions and stresses so peculiar to the West: how could we, then, apply our own standards to them? If they seemed to ficial, it was perhaps their emotions flowed v/ithout fric tion into their behaviour. Perhaps, under the impact of'Wester nization', they also would gradually lose the blessed immediacy oftheir contact.with reality: for although that Western influence acted in ways as stimulus and fertilizing agent temporary thought, it inevitably tended to produce in the Arabs the same grievous problems tllat dominated the spiritual and social scene in the West.
QpposrTE HOUSE, so close that could almost touch it, stood little mosque with tiny minaret from which times day the to prayer was sounded. white-turbaned \vould appear the gallery, raise his hands, and begin to

chant: 'Allahll akbar- God is the Greatest! And 1 witness that Muhammad is God's Messenger ... ' As he slo\,]y turned to\vard the four points of the comp~ss, the ring of l1is voice

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climbed ,.pward, grew into the clear air, rocking the deep, throaty sounds of the Arabic language, 5waying, advancing and retreating. he voice wa5 dark baritone, and 5trong, of great range; but you could perceive that it was fervour and not art that made it so beautiful. his chant of the m' azzin was the theme song of days and evenings in Cairo - just as it had the theme song in the 01d City of Jerusalem and was destined to in later wanderings through Muslim lands. It sounded the same where in spite of the differences of dialect and intonation which might evident in the people's daily speech: unity of sound wch made realize in those days at Cairo how deep was the inner unity of ll Muslims, and how aftificial and isigfit were the dividing lines between them. hey were in their way of thinking and judging between right and wrong, and in their perception of what consiitutesthe good . It seemed to that for the first tim.e 1 had across community in 'which kinship between and was not due to accidents of racial or economic interests but to something far deeper and far stable: kihi of outlook which lifted ll barriers of 10neliness between and
.

IN SUMMER OF 1923, enriched better under standing of Middle life and , 1 retumed to Jeru
sl. hrough good friend Jacob de 1 acquainted with Amir Abdullah of neighbouring Transjordan. who invited to visit country. here 1 saw for the first ti true beduin land. capital, - built the ruins of hil delphia, the Greek colony of Ptolemaeus Philadelphus - was at that time little to\vn of hardly more than six thousand inhabit ants. Its streets were filled with beduins, the realbeduins ofthe open ~teppe whom rarely saw in Palestine; free warriors and cae~ breeders. Wonderful horses galloped through the streets; ~an was armed. carried dagger in his sash and ritle his back. Circassian oxcarts (for tM town had originally .settled Circassians who had migrated there after the Russian conquest of their homeland in the nineteenth century) plodded

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heavi1y through thc bazaar, which in spitc of its sma1lness was fu11 of bustle and commotion worthy of larger city. As there were adequate buiJdings in the town, Amir dullah lived in those days in tent II overlooking Amman. His own tent was somewhat larger the others and consisted of several rooms formed canvas partitions and dis tinguished utmost simplicity. In ofthem, black bearskin made bed the ground in corner; in the reception , l of beautift.il camel-saddles with silver-inlaid pommels served armrests when sat the , Except for Negro servant richly dressed in brocade, with golden dagger in his belt, there was nobody in the tent when 1 entered it in the of Dr. Riza Tawfiq , the amir's chief adviser. was Turk, formerJy university professor, and for three years, before l Ataturk, Minister of Education in the Turkish cabinet. rir Abdullah, told , would back in few m.inutes; just now was conferring with ~ beduin chieftains about the latest Najdi raid into southern Transjordan. hose Najdi 'Wahhabis', Dr. Riza l to , played within Islam role not unlike that of the Puritan refor mers in the Christian world, inasmuch as they were bitterly posed to 1l saint worship and the mystical superstitions that had crept into Islam over the centuries; they were also ir reconcilable enemies ofthe Sharifian family, whose head was the ' father, ing Husayn of the Hijaz. According to Riza Tawfiq , the religious views ofthe Wahhabis could ! jected out of hand; did, in fact, closer to the spirit of the Koran than the views prevalent among the masses in most of the other Muslim countries, m.ight thus in time exert cil influence the cultural development of Islam. fanaticism of these l, however, made it somewhat difficult for other Muslims to appreciate the Wahhabi move ment fu; and this drawback, suggested, might not welcome to 'certain quarters', to whom possible reunification of the peoples was dreadful prospect. l later the amir in - ofabout forty years, of middle size, with short, blond beard - stepping 50ftly smal1, black patent-leather slippers, clad in loose ra garments swishing white silk with almost transparent white w over them. said:

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'Ahlan wa-sahlan' - 'Family and plain' - and tbat was t6e first time 1 beard this graceful Arabian greting.
bere was something attractive: and almost captivating in the personality of rir Abdullah, strong sense of humour, wannth of expression and ready wit. It was ot difficult to see wby was so popular in those days witb bis people. lugh Arabs were not about the role had played in the British-inspired Sbarifian revolt against the Tu.rks and regarded it as betrayal of Muslims Muslims, had gained certain prestige his championship of the Arab against Zionism; and the day was yet to when the twists and of 5 politics would make his odious throughout the Arab world. Sipping coffee from minute cups that were banded round the black retainer, we talked - occasionally assisted Dr. Riza, who spoke fluent French - of the administrative diffie'llties in tbis new country of Transjordan, where everyone W2S accus tomed to and to l the laws of his wn clan , - but,' said the amir, 'the Arabs plenty of common sense; even the beduins are now beginning to realise that they must abandon their old lawless ways if they want to free from foreign domination. he intertriba1 feuds of which thou must heard 50 often are now gradually subsiding.' And went describing tbe unrul, uneasy beduin tribes wblcb used. to fight with one another tbe slightest pretext. he blood feuds often lasted for generation5 and , handed down from father son, for centuries, leading to ever new bloodsbed and new bittemess after the origina1 had almost forgotten. here was only way to bring about peaceful end: if : from the tribe and lan of the last victim abducted virgin of thc tribe and clan of the l prit and made her bls wife, the blood of the bridal night - blood ofthe killer's - symbolically, and finll, avenged the blood that had spilled in homicide. Occasionally ithappened that two tribes had grown weary of vendetta wblch going for generations, sapping the strength of both parties; and in such case. 'abduction' was not infrequently arranged througb middleman from third tribe. '1 have done better than that,' Amir Abdu11ah told . '1 established proper "blood feud commissions" composed of

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trustworthy who travel around the country and arran the symbolic kidnappings and m.arriages between, hostile tribes. But' .- and his eyes twink1ed - '1 always imprcsS upon the r of these commissions to very careCul in the choicc the virgins, 1 would not like to see intemal aill feuds arisc the grounds the bridegroom's possible disappointment...' of perhaps twelve years appeared from behind parti , swept across the dusky - with quick, noiseless steps and jumped without stirrup to the cin! out side the tent wmch servant had holding in readiness for him: the am;r'seldest 50, Talal. In his slim bod, in rapid vau1t to the horse, in his shining 1 saw it gain: that dreamless contact with own life wblch set the Car apart from l that 1 had known in , Observing obvious admiration of his son, ; said: ', 1ike every other child, is growing with but thought in mind: freedom. We Arabs do not li ourselve5to faultless free from ; but we want to commit our errors ourselves and learn how to avoid them- just tree l how to grow right growing, as running water finds its per course flowing. We do not want to guided to wisdom l who wisdom themselves - who only power, and gus, and , and n1 know how to lose friends whomthey could so easily keep as friends .. .'* 1 . INTEND to remain indefinitely in '; and it was again Jacob de who helped . Himself joumalist of established reputation, had connections ll over ro. i recommendation secured for contracts with two small ilewspapers, in Holland and the other in Switzerl~nd, for series of articles to paid in Dutch guilders and Swiss francs. As these were provincial newspapers of great standing, they could not afford to large remuneration; but to , whose habits were simple, the 1 received from them appeared ample to finance planned journey through the Near East.
* At that tirne (1923) nobody could have foreseen the bitter antagonism which in later years would mar the relations between Amir ll and his 50n Talal the 50n hating his Cather's complaisance with regard to British policies in the Arab world, and the father resenting his son's passionate outspokenness. Nor could 1 see that or laer occasions an sign of the 'mental dis~'.lrbance' in Talal {! led { bis enforced abdication from the throne ! Jordan in 1952.

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1 wanted to go to Syria fir5t; but the French utlitis, 50 centlyestablished there in the midst hostile population, were uwig to giv<:i visa to Austrian '- li'. This was bitter bIow, but there was nothing 1could do about it; and 50 1 decided to go to Haifa and there to board ship Istanbul, which in case wa5 included in programme. the train journey Jerusalcm to Haifa calamity l1 : 1 lost coat containing \vallet and passport. that 1 had left \\' the \'" silver coins in trousers pockct. age to Istanbul \vas, the time bcil1g, of the question: passport, money. Nothing rcmained but to . i"US to Jerusalem; the fare would to paid arrival with , as usual, from Dorian. In Jerusalem 1 would to wait wceks for another passport the Austrian in ( ! that time thcre was in Palestine) and further driblets Holland and S\vitzerland. An.d so it ! that the next morning 1 found myself before bus office thc outskirts of Haifa. negotiations about the \\' completed. was until the de the bus, and to while away tl1e time 1 paced and down the road, deeply disgusted with myself and with the fate that had forced into so ignominious rctreat. Waiting is al \vays evil thing; and the thought ofreturning to Jerusalem de feated, with tail bet\veen legs, was most galling - the 50 as Oorian had al\\'ays sceptical about ability to realize '; plam; the basis such meagre funds. , 1 \vould ! Syria now, and God alone knew if 1 would back to this part the world. It was, of course, al\vays possibIe that at some later date the Frl1kjill"t Zcitung \vould financc th journey to the Middle East, and that day the French might 11ft the embargo - aliens; ! that \vas not certain, and in the meantime 1 \vould ! scc Damascus ... Why, 1 asked myself bitterly, was Damascus den icd to ? But - was it ? course - passport, n1Oney. ! was it absolutely neccassry to pass;1ort and .. ? And, having 50 far in thoughts, 1 suddenly stoppcd in tracks. could, if had grit el1ough, travel foot, availing oneself tbe hospitality viIlagers; and could, perhaps, somehow smuggle oneself across the frontier without bothering about passports and visas ...

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And before 1 was quite aware ofit, mind was made : 1 was going to Damascus. couple of minutes sufficed { explain to { bus people that 1 had changed mind and was ! going { ]erusalem after ll. I! took few to change into pair ofblue"overalls and kufiyya (the best possible protection against the sun); to stuff few necessities into knapsack, and to range for suitcase { despatched to Dorian, ... And then 1 set out Iong trek to Damascus. Th overwhelming sense of freedom that filled was indis tinguishable from happ,iness..1 had only few coins in ket; 1 was embarking iIlegal deed that might Iand in prison; the problem crossing the frontier lay abead in vague uncertainty; 1 was staking everything WiLS : but the consciousness having placed ll single stake made
.

1 WALKED ON ROAD to lil. In the afternoon the Plain Esdrelon Iay the right below , f.ecked with rags of light and shadow. 1 passed through Nazareth and befor~ night f reached vg shaded trees and cypress es. At the door the first house sat three and wo . 1, stopped, asked whether this was Ar-Rayna, and after Yes was about to move - when the \ d after
;

thou not refresh thyself?' - and, as if divining thirst, stretched pitcher of cold water toward . When 1 had drunk fill, the - obviously her husband asked : 'Wilt thou not eat bread with us, and remain in our house ovemight?' did ! ask who 1 was, where 1wa5going what business was. And 1 stayed ove!'night as their guest. guest : schoolchildren about it in Europe. gue5t of means to enter for few hours, for time, truly andfully, into the lives ofpeople who want to brother5 a'-Id sisters. It is not mere tradition which enabIes the s to hospitable in so effu5ive way: it is their inner freedom. are 50 di5trust of themselves that

' 'sidio- wilt

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they easily their lives to another . of thespecious security of the walls which in the West son il between himself and hisneighbour. We supped together, and women, sitting cross-Iegged mat around huge dish filled with porridge of coarsely crushed wheat and milk. hosts tore small pieces [ large, paper-thin [ ofbread with which they deftly scooped the porridge without touching it with their fingers. they had given spoon; but 1 refused it and attempted, not \vithout success, and to the evident pleasure of friends, to emulate their simple and nevertheless dainty of eating. When we lay down to sleep - about dozen l in and the - 1 gazed at the wooden beams from which strings of dried peppers and eggplant were hanging, at the niches in the walls fiiled with brass and stoneware utensils, at the bodies of sleeping and women, and asked myself whether at 1 could felt at . In the days that followed, the ru&t-brown of the Judean hills with their bluish-grey al1d violet shadows gradually g way to the gay and mellow hills of Galilee. Springs and little streams unexpectedly made their , Vegetation more luxuriant. In groups stood thickly leafed olive trees and tll, dark cypresses; the last summer flo\vers could still seen th~ hill-sides. Sometimes 1 \valked part of the way with l drivers and enjoyed for while their sirnple warmth; we drank \vater from canteen, 5moked cigarette together; then 1 walked alone. 1 spent "the nights in houses and ate their bread with them. 1 tramped for daY5 through the hot depression along the Lake of lil and through the 50ft coolness around Lake Hule, which was like mirror of metal, "with si1\ery mists, slightly reddened last rays of the evening sun that ed over the water. Near the shore lived Arab fishennen in huts bui1t of stra\\' mats loosely slig around frame\vork of branches. \ -but they did not seem to need more than the5e airy huts, few faded garments their backs, handful of wheat to make breadand the fish they caught th selves: and always they seemed to enough to ask the wan derer to 5tep in and eat with them.

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NORTHERNMOST POINT in Palestine was the Jewish colony of Metulla, which, 1 had leamed earlier, was kind of gap between British-administered Palestine and French Syria. the basis of an agreement between the two governments, this and two rteigh~ouring c010nies were shortly to incorporated into Palestine. During those few weeks of transition MetuHa was not effectively supervised either of the two govemments, and thus appeared to ideal place from which to slip into Syria. It was, 1 understood, only later, the high\\'ays, that identifica tion would demanded of the traveller. Syrian trol \vas said to very strict; it was irrtpossibleto go far \'Iithout being stopped gendarmes. As Metutla \vas offici ll st ided of Syria; its adult inhabi tants held, like elsewhere in the country, identity certificate issued the Freneh authorities. secure such paper for self most pressing task. 1 made some discreet enquiries and was finaHy guided to the house of who might prepared to \vith his certifi for consideration. was large person in his late thirties and \Vas deseribed such in the crumpled and greasy document which pulled of his breast pocket; but as the bore photograph, the problem was not insoluble. 'How much do you want for it?' 1 asked. 'Three pounds.' 1 took from pocket the coins 1 possessed and counted them: they to fifty-five piasters, that is, little over half pound. 'This is 1 ,' 1 said, 'As 1 must keep something for the rest ofmy journey, 1 give you more than twenty piasters' (which was exactly onefifteenth of what had demanded). After some minutes of haggling we settled thirty-five pias ters, and the doeument was mine. lt consisted of printedsheet with t\\"O columns - French and the other Arabic - the rele vant data having inserted in ink the dotted Iines. he 'personal description' did not bother mu, for, as is usuaI with such descriptions, it was wonderfuIly vague. But the age mentioned was thirty-nine - \vhile 1 \vas twenty-three, and looked t\venty. " very careless poliee officer would im mediately tlOticc the discrepancy; and 50 it necessary to change tlle age entry. Now if it had mentioJ1ed in . place

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only, the change would not have 50 difficult, but unfortu 11ately it wa5 given in French as well in . De5pite careful penning, 1 achieved what could only described as unconvincing forgery; ( \vith eyes in his head it would obvious that the figures had altered in both columns. But that could helped. 1 \>Jould have to rely Iuck ' and the negligence of thc gendarmes. EarIy in the morning business fid led ( gully hind the village, pointed ( some rocks halfa mile , and said, 'There is Syria.' 1 rnade way across the guIley. Although the hour \ya~ early, it was very hot. It rnust also have 110t to the old woman who under tree the rocks beyond \vhich ",as Syria; for she called to in husky, brittle voice: 'Wouldst thou give drink of water to old \, 501' 1 unslung freshly filled canteen and gave it . She drank avidly and ( 11anded it back to , saying: ' God bless thee, keep thee secure and lead thee to ( heart's goat.' 'Thanks, mother, 1 do not want than that.' And when J turned around looked back at , 1saw the old \vom!1n'S lips as if in and felt strange elation. 1 reached ( and passed them: and now 1 was in Syria. wide, plain lay ; [ away the horizon 1 saw the outlines of trees and something that looked like houses; it the town ot" Baniyas. 1 pid not like the look of this that offered tree bush behind which to take which, 50 the frontier, might well neces5ary. there was other \vay. 1 felt as sometimes feel5 in dream in which has to walk naked down crowded 5treet ... It was nearly noon when 1 reached smal1 streamlet bisecting the plain. As 1 sat down to take off shoes and socks, 1saw in the distance four horsemen moving in direction. With their rifles held across the saddle, they looked ominousIy like gen darmes. They Heregendarmes. There \vould 5ense in trying to away; and 50 1 comforted myselfthat \vhat was to happen would . If 1 \ caugh! \, 1 would probably receive than few blo\\s \\'ith and escorted back to Metul1a. 1 waoed through the stream, sat down tlle opposite bank

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and started leisurely to dry feet, waiting for the gendarmes to They , and stared down at with sici: for although 1 was wearing headress, 1 was obviously

' where7' them asked sharply in . 'From MetuJla.' 'And where to?' ' Damascus:' '\\ hat 7' ', wel1, just pleasure trip.' 'An papers 7' 'Of course .. .' And out '' identity certificate and 10 mouth. he g~ndarme unfolded { and looked at it - and heart slipped back to its place and started to beat again: [ 1 saw that held the document upside-down, obviously to read ... he two three-big government seals apparently satisfied , ponderously folded and handed it back to : 'Yes, it is in order. 00.' second 1 had the impulse to shake his hand, but tben thought it better to let relations remain strictly official. The four wheeJed their horses around and trotted away, while 1 continued . Near Baniyas 1 10st way. Wbat had described as 'road fit for whe.eled traffic' po~ to , hardly vis ible path which meandered lalld. swampy ground al.d across little streams. and in thf end petered out entirely some uJd-stw hillocks. 1 wandered these hills for several hours, and down, until, in the afternoon, 1 two Arabs witb donkeys that were earrying grapes and cbeese to Baniyas. We walked the last stretch together; they gave grapes to eat; and we separated reacbing the gardens before the)own. clear, narrow, rapidly flowing stream was bubbling the roadside. llay down ll, thrust head u to the ears in the iey water and drank and drank ... Although 1 was tired, 1 had intention of staying at Baniyas, which, being the first town the Syrian side, was bound to_have post. encounter \vith the gendannes had set ! rest as regards crdinary Syrian troopers. for rnost

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of them could presumed to iIliterate and therefore not in position to detect forgery: but post, with officer in it, would dfferent story. 1 therefore set out at quick through narrow lanes and byways, avoiding the main bazaar street where such post would most likely located. In o~ the lanes 1 heard the sound lute anda man's voice singjngto the accompaniment of clapping. DraVv'n to it, 1 rounded the ner - and stood quite stilI: for just , at distance perhaps ten , was door inscribed Poste de , with several Syrian Ii, officer among them. sitting stools in the sun and enjoying the music oftheiI" comrades. It was too late to , for they had already seen , and the officer - apparently also Syrian - caIIed out to : ', here!' here was nothing to it but to . 1 advanced sIowly - and then brain-wave struck . Taking out , 1 politely greeted the officer in French and continued, without waiting for his questions: '1 coming from MetuIIa short visit to this town, but would not like to back without taking photo nd your friend here, whose song has so enchanted .' Arabs like to flattered, and in addition they deIight in being photographed; and so the officer consented with smile and quested to send him the photograph after it was developed and printed (which 1 later did, with compliments). It lon ger occurred to him to ask for identification papers. In stead, treated to sweet tea and wished ~'oyage when 1finaIIy rose to ' back to MetuIIa'. 1retreated the way 1 had , made circuit around the town, and proceeded way to Damascus.
CTL TWO WEEKS FER 1 had Ieft Haifa 1 arrived at the big viIlage - almost town - of Majdal ash-Shams. which was inhabited mainIy Druzes and few Christians. 1 chose house \vhich 100ked fairly prospeous and told the who the door to knock that 1 \vould gratefuI for shelter for the night. With the lIsuaI n I\'a-sablan the door was opened \vide, and within fe\v minutes 1 found myself cepted into the smaII househoJd.

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As 1 was now deep in Syria, with several possibIe ways leading to Damascus, 1 decided to take Druze host into denee and ask his advice. Knowing that Arab would ever tray s guest, 1 placed the facts squarely before , includ ing the fact that 1 was travelling false identity eertificate. 1 W:ls told that it wou1d risky for to travel the highway because from here onward it was patro11ed French gendarmes, \ would not let pass as easi1y as the Syrians had done. '1 tnk 1 \i1l send son with thee,' said host, pointing to ward the young who had the door to , 'and will guide thee across the mountains and help thee to avoid the roads.' After the evening l we sat down the terraee before the house and discussed the route we should take next moming. knees was spread the sma1l-scale German of PaJes tine and Syria \ 1 had brought \vith from Jerusalem, 1 \vas trying to follo\v on.it the course indicated- Dr friend. While we were thus occupied, in the uniform of officer - evidently Syrian - strolling along the vil lage street. had appeared so suddenly from around m that 1 had hardly time enough to fold the , let alone hide it from his viev.'. officer seemed to recognize stranger in , for after passing our terrace \vith nod to host, turned back [ the next . slowly walked toward . 'Wbo are ?' asked in French in not unkind voiee. 1 repeated ual rigmarole about being colonist from Metu11a pleasure trip; and \ demanded to see identity certificate, 1had to give it to hi. looked ! the paper attentively, and his lips twisted in grin. 'And \! is it that you in your hand l' continued, pointing to the folded German rna. 1 said that it was nothing of importance; but insisted seeing it, unfolded it with the deft fingers of accustomed to handling maps, looked at it for fe\v seconds, folded it carefuHy and handed it back to with smile. Then said in broken German: 'During the war 1 served in the Turkish army side side with the Germans.' And saluted in the military fashion, grinned agail1 and \valked \. . ' has understood that thou art an A/emolli. likes them, aJld hates the Fh. \v't bother'thee.'

121

Next morning, accompanied the young Druze, 1 set out what must the hardest of life. We walked for eleven , with l break at for about twenty minutes, rocky hills, down deep gorges, through dry river beds, hills again, bctween boulders, sharp pebbles, , downhill, uill, downhill. uI 1 felt that 1 could walk . Whco in the aftemoon we reached the town of AI in the plains Damascus, 1 was entirely worn out, shocs \vere torn and feet swollen. 1 wanted to stop overnight at the place, but young friend advised strongly against it: there were too French around, and as it was town and not village, 1 would not so easily find shelter without at tracting attention. l alternative was to secure ride in ofthe automobiles that plied for between and mascus. 1 had still twenty piasters (during the entire journey from Haifa 1 had had need to spend single ): and twenty piasters to tbe fare for ide Damas

cus.
In the ramshackle office of the transport contractor, in the main square the town, 1 was informed that 1 would have to wait for about half until the next left. 1 parted from friendly guide, who embraced like brother and set immediately the first stage of his way . Sitting with knapsack side the door ofthe booking office,1dozed off under the rays of the late afternoon sun - only to rudely awakened someone shaking the shoulder: Syrian gendarme. usual questions , followed the usual swer5. But the was-apparently not quite satisfied and told
:

' \\ith in charge.'

to the station and talk there to the offi

1 was 50 tired that it 10nger ffiattered to whether 1 was discovered not. '' in the station room proved to big, burly French sergeant, his tunic unbuttoned. behind dcsk 011 whicll stood almost empty bottle of arrack and dirty glass. was completely, angrily, drunk and glarcd \vith bIoodshot eyes at the who had brought in. 'What is it now l' explained in that had secn ,

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, sitting in the main square; and 1 explained in French that I was not stranger, but law-abiding citizen. 'Law-abiding citizen!' the :~fP' it shouted. <You people , vagabonds who wa:k. ,jP hd down the country l to ", Where your p:.:pelJ'?' As I \\'as fumbling with stiff fingers the identity certificate in pocket, banged his fist the tabIe, and bellowed: 'Never mind, get out of !' - and as 1 was closing the door behind 1 saw reach h.is glass and bottle. After the 10ng,10ng, what reHef, what ease to ride , almost gJjde,--i [ AI-Katana the broad high way into the orchard-covered plain [ Damascus! the hori zo l goaI: endless sea of treetops, with few shining domes and minarets faintly visibIe against the sky. Far away, somewhat to the rigbt, stoOO solitary naked , its crest still lighted the sun, while ~oft shado\vs were already creeping its base. the bll1, single cloud, narrow, long, glittering dusk; steep, distant pale sky; over the plain, dove grey golden against the mountains to our right and to left; Hght air. Th: taD fruit gardens enclosed mud waIJs; riders, carts, carriages, soldiers (French soldiers). dusk green like water. officerroared , withhis huge goggIes resembling deep-sea fisb. : tbe first house. h: Damas . , surf of noise after the silence of the plain. first lights were leaping in windows and streets. 1 felt gladness such as 1 could not remember. But gladness to abrupt end as the car stopped beyond the poste de police outskirts of tbe city. . <What is the matter?' 1 asked driver side. ', nothing. AI1 cars coming [ outside must report to the poliee l .. .' Syrian li emerged [ the station and asked: 'From where you coming?' <Only from Al-Katana,' replied driver, ', well, in that cs go ' ([or this was obviously nJ local traffic). Th driver let in his clutch with grind. We moved and 1 breathed freely . But at that moment someone called out [ the street, ' top is loose!' - and few paces beyond the pos;e de police the driver stopped the aged to at

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tend to the top that had flopped down side. While was thus engaged, ( policernan approached us idly again, apparently interested in: than the driver's rnechanical . hen, however, his glancealighted and 1 saw, with stiffening of whole body, (! bls eyes 00 alert. was looking and down, closer, and squinted at ( floor of the where knapsack 1. 'Who art (?' asked suspiciously. 1 began, 'Frorn Metulla .. " but the policeman was shaking his head unbelievingly. hen whispered something to ( driver; 1 could make out words. 'Englisb soldier, deserter: And [ the first tirne it dawned upon that blue overalls, wn kufiyya with its gold-threaded iga/ and military type knapsack (whicb 1 had bougbt in junk shop in Jerusalern) closeIy resembIed the outfit of ( Irisb constabulary ernployed in those days the government of Palestine; and 1also bered that there was agreernent between ( French and Britisb authorities ( extradite their respective deserters... In broken r 1 tried ( explain ( the policeman that 1 was deserter; but waved aside explanations: 'Explain aIl this ( the .' And so 1 was obIiged ( go into ( police station, while ( driver. witb muttered apology for not being ( wait for started the and disappeared from view... he inspector was out [ being but, 1 wastold, wou1d back mornent. 1 had ( wait in wblcb contained only , frorn ( main , two other doors. Over of them was inscribed Garditn de and over the other simply Prison. rnid these very unpropitious surroundings 1 waited for over half , rninute and convineed that this was journey's end: for 'inspector' sounded orninous tban simply 'officer'. IfI were now discovered, 1 would have ( spend some tirne, perbaps weeks, in gaol as under-trial s; then 1 would receive the customary sentence of ( montbs; after serving it 1 would to march foot - panied mounted gendarme - back to { frontier of Pales tine; and. to top it ll, 1 rnight expect eviction from Palestine as weU for breaking passport regulations. gloom in the waiting was nothing compared with ( gloom \vithin . Suddenly 1 heard the whirr of rnotor .r. It stopped before

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the station gate. moment later io civilian dress with red tarbush his head entered the room wlth quick step, foJlowed the policeman who ,,,as excitedly trying to something to m. inspector was quite obviously in great hurry. 1 do not kw exactly how it , but 1 presume that ,vhat 1 did at that crucial rnoment was the outcome of of those flashes of genius which in ditferentcircurnstances and perhaps in different - produce events that change his . With :single bound, 1 close to the inspector and, \vithout waiting for his questions, hurled at torrent of complaints in French against the insulting clumsiness of the who had , innocent citizen, for deserter and caused to lose the city. The inspector tried several tirnes to interrupt , but 1 never gave and engulfed him in flow of words of which, 1 suppose, was hardly to gather - - probably ooly the narnes ' tulla' 'Damascus,' which 1 repeated endless nurnber of times. was evidently distressed at being kept away from something had to do io uy; but 1did oot let hirn speak and continued, without stoppiog for breath, with wordy barrage. Ultimately threw his hands in despair and cried: 'Stop, for God's s! Have papers?' hand \vent automatically into [ breast pocket and, still pouring out sentence after sentence in unceasing stream, 1 thrust the false identity certificate into his hands. he poor must have felt as if were drowning, for nl quickly tumed over corner ofthe folded sheet, saw the govemment stamp, and threw it back at : ' right, ll right, go, only go!' - and 1 did not wait for to repeat his request.
FEW MONTHS EARLIER, in Jerusalem, 1 had met
mascene teacher , had invited ,to his guest wheoever 1
to Damascus, it was after his house that 1 now en
quired. little offered himself as guide and took
hand.
~ Deep evening. OId City. Nw lanes \ the over
hanging oriel windows made more nightly than the night itseJf

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could make them. and there 1 could , in the yellow light of kcrosene lantern, fruiterer's shop with mound of water melons and baskets of grapes outside it. People like shadows. Sometimes behind the Jatticed \vindows woman's shrill voice. And thenthe liti.le said, ''. 1 knocked at door. Some body answered from inside and 1 lifted the latch and entered pavcd courtyard. In the darkness 1 could discern grapefruit trees with green fruit and stone basin with fountain. Some called out [ : 'Ta/fadal, sid;' - and 1 ascended narrow staircase aJong of the outer waJJs and waJked through Joggia and into the arms of friend. 1 \vas dead-tired, entirely exhausted, and let myself faH u sistigl to the bed that was ofered . wind rustled in the trees of courtyard in ("t and in the of the gar den behind the house. From the distance m muffled sounds; the voice of great Arabian city going to sleep. of new understanding, \vith eyes opencd to things 1 hacl suspccted before, that 1 \ dered in those days throUg!l the a]]eys of the old bazaar of Damascus and rccognizcd tlle spiritua! restfulness in the life of its people. Their security could obscrved i t~le way they to\\'ard anothcr:in [ \ dignity \vith which they met ; i the [ \vhich two ,....ouId \\'alk togetJler, holding othcr the hand like chil dren - simply because they felt friendly toward other: in the in \ the shopkeepers deaIt \vith anotller. Those trader5 in the little shops. those inexora callers to pas sersby, seemcd to have grasping [ 311d in them: 50 ll so that the ',\! of 5hop would lcavc it in the cU5tody 11is neighbour and compctitor whenever it nccessary to \ \\!hile. 1 often sa\\! potential customer s:op untended stal1, obvioLlsly debating within himself whether to wait [ the return the vendor or 10 v to the adjojning stalI - and invariably thc neighbouring trader, the competitor, \vould step jn to enquire after the customer's \vants and sell hilll the required goods - not his \ goods, but those of his st neighbour - and \\;ould ' the purchase price
WAS W

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neighbour's . Wberc in Europe could wit nessed lfke transaction? Some of the bazaar streets were thronged with the hardy figures of beduin~ in their wide, fiowing garments: who al ways seemed to carry their lives with themselves, and always walkcd in tbeir own tracks. with grave, buming eyes wer~ standing and sitting in groups befort. the shops. hey did not talk to another - word, short sentence, attentively spoken and as attentiveJy received, sufficed for long conversations. hese beduins, 1 felt, did not know chatter, that ta1king aout nothing, with nothing at stake, the hall-mark of .worn-out souls; and 1 was reminded of the words of the Koran wblch described life in Paradise: '... and thou hearest chat ter there ...' Silence seemed to beduin virtue. hey wrap ped themselves in their \\"ide, brown-and-white black cloaks and kept silent; they passed you ",ith silent child's glance, , modest and sensible. When addressed them in their tongue, their black eyes ! sudden smile: for they were not self-absorbed and liked to sensed the stranger. hey were grallds seiglleurs, entirely rescrved and nevertheless to all things of life ... Friday - the MusJim Sabbath - you could perceive of rhythm in the Hfe of Damascus - little whirlwind of excitement and, at the same time, solemnity. 1 thought of our Sundays in Europe; of the silent city streets and closed shops; 1 remembered 11 those empty days and the oppression which that emptiness brought forth. Why should it so? Now 1 to understand it: because to most people in the West their day life is load [ whicb only Sundays release them, Sunday is longer day of rest but has es into the unreal, deceptive forgetfulness behind \vhich, doubly and threatemng, the ",eekday' lurks. the Arabs, the other hand, Friday did not seem to opportunity to forget their workdays. Not that the fruits of life fell easily and without effort into the laps of these p~ople, but simply because their labours, theheaviest, did not seem to conflict with their personal dcsires. Routine, for sake of rou tine, \vas absent; instead, there was inner contactbetween working-man and his work: and so respite necessary only if got tired. Such consonance between .} his

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work must envisagedby Islam as the natural state of affairs and, therefore, obIigatory rest had prescribed for Friday. artisans and smaH shopkeepers in the Damascus bazaars worked for few hours, abandoned their shops for few hours during which they went away to the mosque for their l1 prayers and afterv.'ard met with some friends in cafe; then they wouJd back to their shops work again for few hours in g1ad rclaxation, just as pleased. OnJy few shops were closed, and except during the time of , when the pJeassembIed i the mosques, the streets were as fuH ofbustle as other days. Frlday 1 went with friend and host into the Umayyad Mosque. , columns \ supported the domed ceiling shone under thc sun rays that fell through the lintel win dows. \vas scent of musk in the air, red and carpets covered the floor. In 10ng, rows stood hundreds of behind the \\' led the ; they bowed, knelt, touched the ground with their foreheads, and rose again: 1l in disciplined unison, Iike soldiers. lt \vas very quiet; while the gregation was standing, could { voice of the old [ the distant depths of the huge halJ, reciting verses from t11e ; and when t!e bowed prosttated himself, the entire congregation followed i as , bowing and prostrating themselves before God as if were present before their eyes... It was at this moment that 1 aware how near their God and their faith were to these people. Theic did not seem to divorced from their working day; it was part of it - not meant to help them forget life, but to remember it better remem bering God. '\ strange and wonderful,' 1 said to friend as we were leaving tbe mosque, 'that you people feel God to so close to . 1 wish 1 could feel so myself.' 'How else could it , brother? Is not God, as Holy Book says, n 10 /hee 11tall 111e 'l'cin in 1hy neck?'
SPURRED NEW AWARENESS, 1 spent [ time at Damascus reading 11 manner of books lslam which 1 could lay hands. Arabic, although sufficient jtJ' the purposes of conversation, V/<lS as yet too wcak read, "

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thc in the original, and 50 1 had to take recourse to two translations - and the other - which 1 ro\ved [ library. For the rest, r had to rely European tlist works ! friend's , :v fragme!ltary, these studics and~ talks were like the lifting of curtain. 1 began to discern \vor)d of ideas of which hitherto 1 had entirely ignorant. lslam did not scem to so religion in the popular sense ofthe \vord as, , \ oflife; so system of theology as of personal and social behaviour based the God. No\vhere i the could 1 find to d [ slvti'. No original, in herited sin stood between { indi\idual and his destiny - for, 110117il1g s/ll all1'ihuled 10 : '~'/1O! he !limself [: No asccticism was required to hidden gate to purity: purity \vas ' birthright, and sin meant than lapse from the innate, positive qualities with which God \\'as said to have endowed human being. There was of dualisn1 [ the ofman's nature: body and soul seemed to taken as integral \vhole. At first 1 \vas somewhat startled the Koran's not only with spiritual but aJso\\'ith se~mingly trivial, mundane aspects of Hfe; but i!l time 1 began to understand that if .... indeed integraJ unity of body and souJ - as IsJam insisted he \"as - aspect of his life could too 'trivial' to \\'ithi!l the purview of reJigion. With this, the let its foHowers forgeL that the life of this \vorld was only stage of man's way to higher existence, and that his uJti mate goal was of spiritual nature. Material prosperity, it said, is desirable but not in itself: and therefore man's tites, though justified in them5elves, must restrained and troHed ll consciousness. This consciousness ought to late not merely to man's relation with God but also to his l tions \\'ith ; not only to the spiritual perfection of the indivi dt1al but also to the creation of such social conditions as might conducive to the spirituaJ development of 1l, so that might ir, fullness ... !his \vas intellectualJy and ethically far 'respectable' than anything 1had previously heard or read about Islam. Its proach to the problems of tlH: spirit seemed to deeper than

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that of the Old Testament and had, morcover,

of the lat

ter's predilection for one particular : and its approach to

the problems ofthe fiesh was, unlike the Ncw Testament, strong Iy affirmative. Spjrit and stood, in its wn right, the twin aspects of ' God-created Hfe. Was not perhaps this teaching, 1 asked I\\yself, responsible for the emotional security 1 had 50 10ng senS(\i in the Arabs?
EVI!NING HOST invited [ accompany to in the house of Damascenc friend who was l

..

brating the birth of son. We wa1ked through the winding l ofthe inner city, \ were so narrow that the projccting \vindows and lattice encased balconies almost touched al\other from opposite sides of the street. shadows nd pea~'Cful silence dozed tween the old houses of stone; sometimes few black-veiled wo men passed you with swift little steps. or bearded , dressed in long kaftan, appeared f IIround m and slowly disappeared behind another. Always [ sa comers and irregular angles, always the m narrow l:tnes which cut across another in 11 directions, a1ways prol\using to lead to toundingrevelations and a1ways opening into another, simiJar
l.

But the revelatiot1 did in the end. friend and guide

stopped nondescript wooden door set in blank, mud
plastered wal1 and said:
' we ,' knocking with his fist against the door. It opened with squeak, old L'ade us welcome with toothlessly mumbled, 'Ah/an, aI,/n wa-slll1lan,' and through short corridor with two right-angle tums we entered the yard of the that outside had resembled nothing so as mud.-coloured . courtyard was wide and airy, pav(.d like.a huge chess board with white and black marble slabs. l 10w, octagonal basin in the centre fountain was playing Hndsplashing. Lemon trees and oleander bushes, set in small openings in the marble pavement, spread their ss- and fruit-Iaden branches ll over [ courtyard and along the inner hOLlse \valIs, which were covered from to roof witb alabaster r(.'liefs the most delj

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cate workmansbip, disp1aying intricate, geometrical pattems and 1ef arabesques, interrupted oniy windows red in broad, 1acelikeopenwork ar. side the.yard ( walls were recessed to , about t Ceet ground 1evel, deep ni the 5 large , accessible broad marble steps. Along the three walled sides this niche - called Iiwan 10w,brocaded divans, while the floor costly was spread. he niche walls were lined with huge mirrors up to height of perhaps fifteen feet - and the entire courtyard with its trees, its black-and-white pavement,its alabaster reliefs, marble window and -carved doors which led to the interior ofthe house, and the many-coloured throng of guests who sat the divans and strolled around the water bsin - this was du plicated in the mirrors of the li,van: and when 100ked into them, you discovered that the opposite wall ofthe courtyard was covered with simi1armirrors in its entire width, so that the who1e spectacle was being reOected twice, four times, hundred times, and thus transformed into magic, end1ess ribbon of marble, a]abaster, fountains, myriads of 1, forests of lemon , groves - end1ess dreamland glis1ening under evening sky still rosy from the rays of the setting sun ... Such house - bare and unadomed the street side, and de1ightfu1 wi1hin - was altogether new 10 ; ! in tirne I to know that it was typica] of the traditional dwellings ( well-to-do 1 in Syria and Iraq but a1so in lran. N~ither 1 Arabs the Persians cared in earlier days Cor fa : house was ! ( lived in and it5 function \vas limited to its interior. This was something quite different from the forced 'functionalism' SQ much sought after in modem Wes tern achitecture. he Wes1erners, entangled in kind of inverted romanticism, unsure oftheir own feelings, nowadays build prob 1ems; the Arabs and Persians build - or built until yesterday houses. he host seated to his right the divan, and barefooted servant offered coffee small brass tray. Smoke from bling nargiles mingled with the rosewater-scented air of the liwan and floated in wisps toward the glass-shaded cand1es which were being lighted. after another, a10ngthe walJsand bet\veen the darkening green of the trees. - all - was most varied:. in ka!tans of

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stripcd, rustJing Damascus silk or ivory-coloured Chinese raw silk, voluminous jubbas of pastel-shaded fine wool, gold-em broidered white turbans. over red tarbushes; in European clothes, but obviously completely at ease in their cross-legged . position the divans. Some beduin chieftains from the steppes, with their , were there: eyes black and gloriously a1ive, and small bIack beards around [, brown faees. Their new clothes swished with evtry movement, and of them carried silver-sheathed swords. were indolently and pletely at ease: true aristocrats - l that their , in distinc tion from that of European aristocrats, was not soft hin bred through generations of 10ving and good living, but like warm fire coming out of the sureness of their pereeptions. good air surrounded them. dry and l atmosphere - the sa air which 1 had sensed in reality the orders of the desert: embracing in its chastity but not intr\!ding. \vere like distant friends, like passing visitors in this place: their free, aimless Iif awaited them elsewhere. dancing-girl out of ofthe doors and llightl the steps to the liwan. She was young, certain1y more than twenty, and very beautiful. Dressed in billowing trousers of some crackling, iridescent silk materia1, pair of golden slippers and pearl-embroidered bodice wblch not so covered as accentuated her high,. upstanding breasts, she moved with the sensuous grace of aeestomed to admired and desired: and could a1most hear the l of delight that ran through this assembIy ofmen at the sight ofher soft-limbed body and her taut ivory skin. She danced, to the accompaniment of hand drum wielded the middle-aged whohad en1~ theliwan immedia~ly hind her, of those traditiona.l,lascivious dances 50 beloved in the East - dances meant toevokeslumbering dcsires and to give promise of breath1ess fu1f:i1ent. . '0 thou wonderful, thou strange,' nturmured host. slapped knee lightly and said: 'Isshe not like sootng ba1m wound ... l' . As quickly as she had , the. daneer disappeared ;and nothing remained of her but the hazy shimmer in the eyes of most of the . Her place the carpet in the /{wan was taken Cour musicians - of the best in all Syria, 1 was told

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guests. them held long-necked lute, another sing1e-headcd drum -like timbrel without jingles - the third instrume-nt that resembJed zither, and the fourth Egyptian tombour - something like very \vide brass bottle with bottom of drum-skin. to twang and drum delicately, playfuUy at first, without discemibIe , seemingJy for himself, as if tuning their instruments in preparation for ward , with the zither drew bls fingertips lightly scveral times over the strings from high ( lo\v \ith subdued, harplike effect; the 'mu player drummed softly, stopped, and drum med again; the with { lute struck, if absent-mindedly, few low. sharp chords in quick succession, chords that seemed only accident to coincide with the dry, monotonousJy peated beat timbrel and to draw { tambour into he5i tant response ( { strumming of strings, now the lute, nO\V of ( zither - and you quite aware of it, rhythm had bound the fo\!r instruments together and 1l0d took . melody? 1 could not say. l! rather seemed to that 1 ~' not 50 u listening to musical m as witnessing exciting happening. Out ofthe chirping tones { string instrurnents there grew new rhythm, .-ising in tense spiral and then, suddenly, falling down -like ( rhythmic rising and falling ! metallic object, faster and slower, scfter and stronger: in dispassionate persistence, in endless variations, this uninterrupted happening, this acoustic \vhic,h trembled in restrained intoxication, grew up, spread out powerfulJ}'. \\'ent to the head: and when it suddenly broke off in the midst ! crescendo (how early, much ( early!) 1 knew: 1 was imprisoned. tension of this music had imperceptibly wrapped ; 1 badbeen drawn into these tones which in their ! monotony recalIed th,: eternal recurrence of tbings existing and knocked at the doors of your own feelings and called forth, step step, tbat had . !.vig in with ! your knowledge ... laid bare something that had a1ways been there andno\v obvious toYOti with vividness that made heart pound ... 1 had accustomed to Western music. in which the entire emotional background of the composer is drawn into in dividual composition. reflectingin every of its moods the
t,

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other, possible : but tbls Arabian music seemed to flow from single level of consciousness, from single tension that was nothing but tension and could therefore personal . modes of feeling in every listener . . . After few seconds silence the mu rUn1bled again, and the other instruments folIowed. soCter sway, more feminine rhythm than before; the individual voices adjusted themselves closely to other, warmly enfolded , and, as if bound together in aspell, more and more excited; they stroked other, flowed around other in 50ft, wavy lines wblch at firSt ded, scvcraJ , with the of the mu as if with hard obstaclc, but gdu grew in aggres siveness, overcame the lmu and erislaved it, dragging it along in , spiral ascent: and the , unwilling at I1rst, soon f prey to the rapture and join~, intoxi cated, thc others; the wavy 10st its feminine soCtness and raced with rising violence. quicker, blgher, shriller, into CQld fiurioso conscious passion th:1t had given up restraint ilnd now dithyrambic climb to some unseen peaks power and sovereignty; the crstwblle circling flow tones around other emerged tremcndous rotation in uni son - rushing of wheels out eternity intoeternity, without measure limit goal, breatbles5, reckless tightrope walker's over knife-edge , through etemal ent, toward awareness that was freedom, and power, and yond thought. , suddenly, in { midst of upsurging sweep: stop and deadly silence. Brutal. Honest. l. Like rustling tree leaves, breath rcturned to the listeners, and the 10ng-drawn AlIah, ///,' went through {. were like wisechildren who play their long-under stood and ever-tempting garnes. were smiling in happi

ness ...
"':"'3 WE RIDE and zayd sings: always the same rhythm, al\vays the same monotonous melody. For {l1 soul the Arab is tonous - ! not in sense of poverty imagii1ation; has plenty.:>C that; but bls instinct does not go, like that Western aCter width. threedimensional space and the simultaneity shades emotil.>!'1 ThrMgh\r~bian music speaks i.l

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desire to , time, single emotional to the utmostend of its . this monotony, this almost sen- . sual desire see feeling intensified in continuous, ascending line, the character owes its strength and its faults. 115 faults: for the world wants to experienced, emotionally, in as well. And its strength: for the faith in the possibility of endless ascent of emotional knowledge [ the of the mind lead nowhere but to God. Only the basis of this inborn drive, so li to of the desert, cou1d grow the monotheism of the early Hebrews and its triumphant fulfilment, the faith of Muhammad. Behind bl)th stood the motherly desert.

v
SPIRIT AND FLESH
-1 and the nights short, and we ride southward at brisk . dromedaries in excellent - they recently been watered, and the last two days provided them with abundant pasture. There 5till fourteen days between and , and even if, is , we spend some time in the tOWn5 of Hail and ~Iedina, both 0.(' which Iie our route. An unusuaI has taken hold of : urgency for wblch 1 know eXtl)1anation. Hitherto 1 wont to joy travelling at IiS', with particular urge to des tination quick1y; the daysand weeks in journey had of { fulfilment its own, and the g'JaI always seemed to incidentaI. But now 1 begun to feel what 1 fe1t before in in : impatience to the end of the road. What end? see ? 1 to the Holy City 50 often, and know its life 50 thoroughly, that it Ionger holds out ofnew discoveries. Or"is it perhaps new kind of discovery that 1 am anticipating? It must so - for 1 being drawn to strange, personaI expectancy, as if this spiritual centre ofthe MusIim world, with its multi-tiI congregation ofpeople from aJl corners ofthe earth, were kind of , gateway to wider world than the in which 1 am now Iiving. Not that 1 grown tired of ; , 1 Iove its deserts, its towns, the ways of its people as 1 always loved them: th! first hint Iife in the Sinai Desert some ten years has disappointed,. and the ceeding years only confirmed originaI expectation; but since night at the \JI two days ago, the conviction has grown within that has givcn ll that it had to give. 1 am strong, young, healthy. 1 ride for 5 at stretch without being unduly tired. 1 traveI - and ~ doing 50 for years -like beduin, without tent and \vithout

DAYS PASS,

135

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the smaH comCorts which the townspeople Najd often regard as iitdispensabJe long desert joumeys. 1 at in the littlc t beduin life, and have adopted, a)most im perceptibIy. the manners and 1.u Najdi . But is this there is to ? Have 1 lived 50 10ng in only to ? - was it perhaps preparation something tbat is yet to ?

.,

IMPATIENCE WIOCH 1 now ) is somebow akin to ( turbulenf' irnpatience 1 experienced when 1 returned to Eu

a~ter first joumey to the Near East: the feeling ofhaving Corced ( stop shoct tremendous revelatiort that cou)d have cevealed itself to if l there had more tirne ... initial impact crossing the Arabian worldback in

to had somewhat softened the months spent in Turkey after 1 had left Syria in the autumnof 1923. Mustafa Kemal's Turkey had in those days not yet entered into its 're formist', imitative phrase; it was sti1l genuinely Turkish in its life and traditiol1s and thus, because the unifying bond its Is Jamic faith, \\'as still related to the general tenor Arabian life: but Turkey's inner rl1ythm somehow heavier, less ts , less airy - and more Occidental. When 1 travelled over land Istanbul to Sofia and Belgrade there was abrupt transition from East to West; the irnages ehanged gradual1y, element receding and another imperceptibIy taking its place ( miharets growing fewer and farther ~tween, the 10ng kof 1011$ the giving way to belted peasani bIouses, the tered trees and groves Anatolia meiging into Serbi~n fir forests - until suddenly, at [ Italian frontier, 1 found myse]f back in Europe. As 1sat,in the train tat Wi!s taking from Trieste to Vienna, recent impressions ofIfurkey began to lose l1 their vividness and ( ] reality that remained was ( eighteen months 1 had spent in Arab countries. It almost gave shock to that 1 \\'as 100king upon ( so familiar European scenery \\'i tJ1e eyes stranger. The l seemed so ugly, their movements angular and clumsy, \vith direct relationship [ \! ( felt and \vanted: nnd at 1 kne\v that in spite of tl1e otlt\vard appearance of purpose in l1 they did. they

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were living, without being' aware it, in world make believe ... Obviously, with (~e Arabs had utterly, irretrievabIy changed to what 1 considered essen tial in l; and it was with something Iike astonishment that 1 remembered that other Europeans had experienced life before ; how was it possibIe, (, that they had not enced this samc shock of discovery? - had they? Had another of as shaken ( his depths as 1 was now ... ? (It was yeacs [, in , that 1 received answer ( this question: it Dr. Van der Meulen, then Dutch Minis at Jidda. ofwide and many-sided culture, clung ( his Christian faitl1 with fervour nowadays Wester ners and \vas thus, understandabIy, ! friend of Islam as religion. None the less, confcssed to , loved Arabia other had , not excepting his own. When bls service in the Hijaz was approaching its end, said ( : '1 believe sensitive person remain immune ( the of life, it out his heart after living am the Acabs [ time.When goes away, \\'ilI within oneself the of this descrt land, and \ill always look back to it with 10ngii1g if one's is in richer, beautiful regions . , .') 1 [ few weeks in Vienna and celebrated ciliation with father, now hadgot bls anger at ~ university studies and the ni nn in wllich 1 had ,. his roof. After ll, 1 was now corres pondent of the Fl'ankfurter Zeilllng - !! people in ! ro used to u lst with awe in those days and had thus justified boastful claim that 1 would ' out
(',

Fcom Vienna 1 proceeded straight to Fcankfurt to present self in pcrson { the newspaper \,,11ich 1 had writing [ welI . 1 did this with great dea! self-assuranee, fOT the letters Frankfurt r,ad mad.: it evident that work was appreciated; and it \vas \vith feelil1g having definitely 'ivd' that 1 entered the sombre, old-fashioned edifice ( Fral1k/urter Zeilung and sent card ( ( editor-in-chief, the internationally famous Dr. Heincich Simon. \Vhen I (' in. he looked t for moment in speechless

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astonishment, atmost forgetting to get from his chair; but soon regained his composure, rose and shook hands with : <Sit down, 8ft down. 1 have e.xpecting .' But tinued to stare at in sitenee until 1 began to feel uncomfort able. <Is there anything wrong, Dr. Simon l' <No, , notblng is wrong - , rather, everything is wrong ...' And then laughed and went : '1 somehow had expected to meet of middte age with gold-rimrned spectacles - and now 1 find ... , 1 beg your pardon; how old you, anyway1' 1 suddenlyrecalled the jovial Dutch merchant in Cairo who had asked tlJ.e same question the year before; and 1 burst out laughing: <1 over twenty-three, sir - twenty-four.' And then 1 added: <Do you find it too young for the Frankfurter Zeitung ?' <No .. .' replied Simon slowly, ' for the Frankfurter Zei tllng, but for your articles. 1 somehow took it for granted that only much older would able to overcome bls natural desire for self-assertion and leave his own personality, as you have doing,entirely in the background ofhis writings. hat, as know, is the secret of mature [: to write objec tively about what you see and hear and think without retating those experienees directly to own, persona/ experiences ... the other hand, now that 1 think of it, only young could written with so much enthusiasm, so - how shal11 say - so much thriJl .. .' hen sighed: '1 do that it doesn't wear off and don't as smug and jaded as the rest of them ...' he dlscovery of youth seemed to strength ened Dr. Simon's conviction tl1at had found in highly promising correspondent; and fully agreed that 1 should re tum to the Middle East as soon as possible - the sooner the bet ter. Financially, there was 10nger obstacle to sucha plan, for the German inflation had at last overcome and the sta bilization ofcurrency had brought almost immediately wave of prosperity in its wake. Frankfurfer Zeiful1g was again in posi!ion to finance the joumeys ofits special correspondents. Before 1 could go out again, however, 1 \vas expccted to producc the book for which the newspaper had originally contracted ;

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and it was decided that during this I should attached [ the editorial f in order to acquire thorough knowledge the workings of great ..spaper. Despite impatience to go abroad again, those months in Frankfurt were tremendousJy stimulating. he Frankfurter Zei tung was not just large ; it \\'as almost research stitute. It empJoyed about forty-fi\'e full-fledged editors, not counting the sub-editors and assistants in the ne\vsrooms. he editorial work \Vas highJy specialized. ,,"ith ofthe world and every major poJitical or ecomonic subject entrusted to an outstanding expert in his fieJd: and this in of o]d tradition that the articles and dispatthes of the Frankfurter Zeitullg should not merely l reflections of passing events but, rather, kind of documentary e\'idenee \vbleh politi cians and historians might draw upon. lt \\'s know ledge that in the Foreign Officein lin [ editorials and politi l analyses of the Frallkfurter Zeitullg \\'ere filed with the same reverence that was aecorded the notes "erbales of foreign govern ments. (1 fact, Bismarek is quoted to \' said of the then cblef ofthe newspaper's Berlin bureau, ". Stein is the Ambas sador of the Frankfurter ZilJg to the Court of Berlin.') member of such organization \vas very gratifying indeed to age; the so as hesitant views about the Middle East were with serious attention the editors and often the subject of the dai1y editorial conferences; and l triumph the day \\" 1 \\'s asked to write editorial current Middle Eastem probJem.
WORK Frankfurrer Zeitung gave strong i petus to cQnScious thinking. With greater clarity than before, 1 began to relate Eastem experiences to the Westem worJd of wblch 1 was gain part. Just as some months earlier 1 had discovered eonnection bet\\'een the emotional se curity ofthe Arabs and the faith they professed, it now g to . dawn upe;} that Europe's lack of inner integration and the ehaotic state ()f its etblcs might outcome of its ]oss of tact with the religious faith that had shaped Westem civilization. Here, 1 saw, was society in seareh of \\' spmtual orienta tion after it had abandoned od: but apparent1y very few West

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erners realized what it was ll about. The majority seemed to think, consciously subconsciously, Iess aJong these lin: 'Since reason, scientific experirnents cal culations do not reveaJ anything definite about the origin man and its destinies after bodily death, ' ought to trate energies the development material and tellectual potential and not allow ourselves to hampered transcendental ethics and ] based assump tior's which defy scientific proof.' hus, while Westem society did\ not expressly deny God, it simply longer hact 1 Hirh in its intel1ectual system. In years, after 1 had m disaited with the ligion ofmy ancestors, 1 had given some thoughtto Christianity. 10 , the Christian concept of God was infinitely superior to that of the 01d Testament in that it did not restrict God 's to group ofpeople but postulated His Fatherhood of all mankind. here was, however, element [ the Christian religious view that detracted from the universality of its proach: the distinction it made between the soul and the body, the world of faith and the world of practical atfairs. Owing to its early divorce from all tendencies aiming at firmation of life and of worldIy endeavours, Christianity, 1 felt, had 100g ceased to provide ! impetus to Western civiliza . Its adherents had grown accustomed to the idea that it was ! the business of religion to 'interfere' ~th practicallife; they were to regard religious faith as soothing convention, to foster than vague sense of personal - especially ! lOlit - in individual and "'. In this they were assisted the age-old attitude which, in pursuance ofthe principle ofa division between 'that which is God's and that which is Caesar's', had left the entire field of social and economic activities almost \ltuhd - with the re sult that Christian politics and business had developed in direc tion entirely different from 1l that Christ had envisaged. In not providing its followers with concrete guidance in worldly . atfairs, the religion which the Westem world professed had faile~ in what, to , appeaed to the true mission of Christ and, indeed,the cardinal task of religion: to sho\v not merely how to jee/ but also how to fj~'e rightly. With n instinctive feeling of having n som~how let do\vn ' his reli

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gioo, Western man had, over tbe centuries, 105t 11 5 rea1 faith in Christianity ;with the 10ss of ts faith, had 105t the convie tion tbat the universe was expression ! 1anni Mind and thus formed organic whole; and ' bad lost that convictiorl, was nowliving in spiritualandmoralvacuum. In the West's grp.dual falling away from Christianity 1. saw revolt agait1st the Paulinelife-contempt that had 50early,and 50 completely, obscured ( teacblngs of Chri5t. How, (, couJd Western society sti1l claim to Christian society? And how could it , without concrete faith, to overcome its moral chaos? world in upheava1 and convulsion: that was our Western world. Blood5hed, destruction, violence unprecedented scale; the breakdown of 50 socia1 conventions, clasb of ideologies, an mred, all-round fight for new ways of life: these were the signs our time. Out of ( smokeand the sham bles of worldwar, innumerable 5maller war5 and host ! volutions and utr-rvJutis, out of disasters that transcended anything unti1 ( recorded: out of 11 tbese tremendous happenings emerged the trutb that the present-day Western concentration material, technical progress couJd never itselfresolve tl1e existing chaos into something resem bling . instinctive, youthful conviction that ' does not Iive bread 10' crysta11ized into the intellectual convic tion tbat the current adoration of"'progress' was more thao weak, shadowy sub5titute for earlier faith in absolutevalues pseudo-faith devjsed l who had 10st 1l inner strength ( believe in absolute values and were itOW deluding themselves with ( belicf (! somehow, mere evolutionary impulse, would outgrow his present difficulties .. 1did not seehow of the new economic systems that stemmed from this iIIu sory faith could possibIy constitute more than tiv for Western society's misery: ( couJd, at best, cure of its symptoms, but never { cause. editorial 5taft of thc Fronk!urle, Ze;tung, 1 paid frequent vi5its ( Berlin, where lnost of friends resided; and it was of those trips (! 1 mct the woman y,'ho was latcI' ~o wife.
WlLE 1 WORKED ON (

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the moment 1 was introduced Elsa amidst the bustle of the Romanisches Cafe. J was strongly attracted;not.on1y . the delicate of - her , fine-boned ( with its , deep~blue and the sensitive mouth that bespoke humour and kindness - but the inward, intuiti..'e quality of herapproach - and things. She was painter. work, which 1 later to kno\v, not outstanding, but it the same imprint of serene intensity that expressed itself in her words ges tures. Although she was some fifteen years 01der than 1 - that is, in her late thirties - her smooth [ and s!ender, flexible body gave ~r much younger , She was probabIy the finest representative of the 'Nordic' type 1 ever countered, having its cleamess and sharpness of out1ine \vith of the angu1arity and stoIidity that so often goes \vith it. She descended [rom of those old Holstein fami1ies which might described as the North equivalent of the English 'yeornanry'; but the unconventiona! freedorn of her manner had caused the earthiness to give way to quite un-Nordic warmth and flair. She was widow and had six year-01d 50, to whom she wa5 greatly devoted. he attraction mutual from the very , for after that fir5t meeting we saw other very often. Filled 5 1 was with recent of the Arab world, 1 l1 communicated them to !5; and she, unlike most of other friends, di5played extraordinary under5tanding and sympa:thy for the strong but ! inchoate feelings and ideas wblch the5e impressions had produced in : 50 50 that when 1 wrote kind of introduction to the book in which J wa5 de5cribing Near Eastern trave1s, 1 [1! as if 1 were addressing myse1f to her:

Whell un Ira~'els in n country / ~vhicll 11 has nel'er seen /, he continues 10 mO~'e Ivithin!lis own, tllOugllper haps some~vl1Qt \videned, environment and easily gl'asp the difJerence bellveen the lhings tl,al habiI has made /amiliar 10 him and tlle newness that 110~V comes his ~vay. For, whetller \ve Germal1s , Eng!isllmen, and ~vlletller ~~'e tra~'el througlJ France. ltaly , HUllgary, tl,e spirit / Europe unifies us all. Living as 1~'e do H'itbll1 ~vell-defined orblt / associatiol1s, ' to IIl1der

AND FLESH

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stand anotherand make : through those associations ifthrougll lqnguage. We t1lis - .. ' / ", lts is dutdl advantage; but like a/l adl'antagest!1Ot hablt, tllis is sin disadl'ontage I~'ell: [: sometimes Ivefind tliat we Ivrapped in t}lat ! spitit ifin Ivool; J fu/led it into laziness / heart; tlmt it llGs made /orget tJ,e tiglltrope-Ivalk / , times- that reaching a/ter intangibIe realities. 1/1 those earlier : they wldhs hal'e called 'inlaJlgible possibilitie:> " J WIIO went in / 11,m- Ii'hetller discol'erers r ad venturersor ceative - -' allvays seeking / tlle most springs / tlleir own lives. We /ate-comers /50 seeking Olvnlil's-ullvsssd thedesire ( secure own /ife / it unjolds i/se/f And J dimly suspect tlle sin tl101 lies /Iidden in such : Europeans begin io/eel il : t/le lerrible danger / avoiding dangers. tlzis book 1 describing into region 1i,llOse 'dif .[' [ is toogreot ' easily bridged: dif- . [ is, in way, akin ( danger.We /eal'ing lhe security / u uniform , in lvhich there is litt/e tllat is [mili and ilothing : is surprising, and entering into the mendous stra"genesses / '' wor/d. l n/ deceive : i" other wor/d J tltis [ lhe tJlal ', lve - as J might in tlle case / Weslern - grasp l11 ! picture. ! is Ih(lll that lhe people o[tllat 'other' Ivor/d. 10 communicate IVitll them? 11 is not enough tospeak tlleir language; in order [ comprehend lheir /l o/life n would have ( cnter into lheir ellvironmenl /ull and begin ( li.'e Ivithin lheir associqtions. [<; this possible? And ~ I~'ould it desirable? 11 mighl , a[ter ll, bad bargain 10 exchange l?ld, /ili lzablts [ thought [orslrange, [ailiar ones. . Ul }~'e excluded [ tlt Iv()r/d? 1 dOllOI tl1ink so. [eeling [ exclusion rests mainly n peculiar 10 u Weslern ' [ thitik;ng:'II'e Jnl ( zmdereslimale 111e [ive value /II, / and allvays lempled ( do ~'iolence 10it, 10 appropriate il, [ take il over, u mvn terms, inl00ur

144
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own ;ntellectual ellv;ronment. It to , Irowever, that 01U longer permits suc CQl1alier attempts; tlIIY / us are beginning to realize that cuJtural distance , andshould. overcome n$ otherthan intellectual (: it m;ght per haps he overcome surrenderingour ns to it. 1m ifamiliar world is 30 entirely di.fferent /rom all that have known at home; us it JJr much that is trikingl strange in imo and sound. it brushes sometimes, if permityourse/fto attentive.,vith momentary brance / things long kno~'n and /n /orgotten: those intangibIe realities / )'our own life. A-nd when this breath / remembrance rlf!!.chts youfrom beyohd the abyssthalseparates )'ur world/rom that other. that un/amilior , tlSk yourselj,vhether it is ,,01 perhaps herein - andonlyherein - that the anin, / all ,vander ;ng Iles: 10 m aware / the strageness / tl,e world around and thereby to reawaken J'our ,,,n. personal. /orgotlen reality
. And Elsa intuitively understood what 1 tried 50 in adequately, Iike who gropes in darkness. to convey in these stammering words, 1 5trongly felt that she. and a1one. could understand what 1 w! after and could l in search ...

-2
wandering isover. Tbere is with , and the night is silent around . wind glides softly over the dunes and ripples the sand on their slopes. In the row circle of firelight 1 see zayd's figure busy ov~ his pots and as, our sadd1ebags Iying where we tossed them when we made for the- night.and saddles with ( blgh wooden pommels. little beyond. a1ready melting into the darkness. the crouchin8 bodies ! ( two ed, after the 18 , their necks stretched ( sand; and still farther beyond. nl faintly visible under ( starUght. but as er to you as your own heartbeat. the empty desert. here are man more beautifullandscapes in the world. but , 1 think, that shaj)e man's spirit in so sovereign way. In its hardness and 5parseness, the. desert strips our desire to comprehend ! aIl subterfuges, of allthe manifold delsioDS with wblch bountiful nature ra entrap 's m.ind and

DAY !

the

145 cause him to project his wn imageries into the world around him. he desert is bare and cIean and knows compromise. It sweeps out of the of man aU { 10veIy fantasies that couId used as masquerade for wisJtful thinking. and thus makes him [ to surrender himseIfto Absolute that has image: tbl~ fanhest of all that is and yet tl1e ncarest of 11 that is . Ever since began { think, thc desert has the cradle of al1 his beliefs in God. , in softer environments and favourablc climes had, time d again, inkling of His existence and oneness, , ( instance, in the cient Greek concept of Moiro, the indefinabIe behind and the 01ympian gods: but such concepts were never than the outcome of vague feeling, <livining rather than tain knowledge - until the knowledge broke fonh with dazzling to the desert and of the desert. 11 was from buming tilOrnbush m tbe descrt of Midian that the voice of God rang out to Moses; it \vas in { wilderness of { J udean desert that Jesus received. the message the ingdom of God; and it \vas m { of ira, in { descrt hills ncar , that [ first ca1l { Muhammad of ra. It to him inthat narrow, dry gorge between rocky hs, that naked bumt the desert sun - all-embracing Yes { , both of the spirit and of the fiesb: tbe 11 {. was des tined to give (r and purpose to formless nation of tribes and, through it, 10 spread wiLhin few decades. like and promise, westward as ( as the Atlantic and eastward to theGreat WaII of China: destined to remain great spiritual power to this day, th thirteen centuries later, outliving poIitical decay, outlasting even the great civilization wbich it brougbt into being: tbe CaII that cam to tbe Prophet of rai ...
SJR

AND

1 SLEEP AND J AWAKE. Ithinkofthedaystbathavepassed and yet are l dead; and sleep g and dream; and aw~,ke agam and sit up, dream and remembrance flo\ving gent1y 10 gctber in tbe half-lighl of awakening. he nigbt is near 10 moming. he r has died down entirely. Rolled in his blanket sleeps Zayd: our dromedaries motion kss, Iike lwo mounds of erth. he stars are still visibIe, and you

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migbt think there is st time to sleep: but lQw the eastern sky there appears,palely out the da~~S' faint streak of li~t above another, darker strea.k . ~1 t}es,over the horizon: twm hera1ds dawn, time the.moI: ' prayer. Obliquely over 1 see the morning star, which the Arabs Az-Zuhra, " Shining '. If ask them about it, they will . ten that he Shining was ~ woman ... here were oncetwo angels, and Marut, who forgot to , as it behoves angels to 00, and boasted their [ vincibIe purity: 'We made oflight; we 11 sin and desire, unlike the weak sons , sons mother's dark womb.' But they forgot that their purity had not from their wn strength, for they were pure Qnly because ( knew de sire and had never ll to resist it. Their arrogance displeased the Lord, and said to them: '00 do\vn to earth and stand your test there.' proud angels went down to earth and wandered, clothed in bodies, among the sons . And the very first night they woman whose beauty was so great that people called her he Shining . Wben the two angels looked at her with the eyes and feel ings they now had, they confused and, just as if ( had ns , the desire to possess her arose in them. ofthem said her: ' willing unto '; but Shining answered: 'here i5 to whom 1 pelong; if v'ant , must free .' And they 51ew the ; with the unjustly spilt blood stiJl their hands, they satisfied their burn ing lust with the woman. But as 5 the desire left them, the two erstwhile angels aware that their first night earth they had ~:nned twofold - in murder and fornication - and that there had 5nse in their pride ... And the Lord said: 'Choose between punishment in this world and punishment in the rftr.' I their bitter remorse, the fallen angels chose nis! in tbls world: and the Lord ordained that they 5uspended ains between heaven and earth and remain thus suspendedunti1 the Day Judgment as warning to angels and that virtue destroY5 itself if it loses humility. But as see ange15, Ood changed he Shining into star in the heavens 50 that people might al\vaY5 her and, re membering her story remember the fate Harut and Marut. he outline of this Jegend is older than Islam; it seems

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to have originated in of myihs which ancient Semites w~ve around their goddess Ishtar. the Grecian Aphro dite of later days. both of whom werc identified with the planet we now Venus. But in the form in which 1 heard it, story of Harut and Marut is typical creation of the Muslim mind. illustration ofthe idea that abstract purity, freedom from sin, moral meaning so 10ng as it is mere absence of urges and desires: for is not the recurrent necessity of choosing between right and wrong the premise of moral ity? Poor Harut and Marut did not know this. Bccause as angels { had never exposed { temptation, they had considered themselves pure and moraHy far - not realizing that { denial of the 'legitimacy' of bodily urges \vould indirectly imply denial of mora! value in endeavours: for it is onIy the of urges, temptations and conflicts - the sibility of cllOice - which makes . and l, into moral being: being endowed \vith soul. It is the basis of this conception that Islam, l 11 higher reIigions. regards the soul of as aspect of his 'personality' and not as independent in its own right. Consequently, { the Muslim, man's spiritual growth is inextricably bound up \vith the other aspects of his nature. Physical urges an integral part of this nature: not the result of 'original sin' - concept foreign to the ethics of Islam but positive, God-given forces. to aod sensibly ed as such: , the problem for is not how to suppress the demands of his body but, rather, how to co-ordinate them with the demands of his spirit in such \vay that life might fuH and righteous. root ofthis a1most monistic life-assertion is to found in the Islamic view that man's original nature is essentiaHy good. Contrary. to the Christian idea that is sinful. or the teaehing of Hinduism that is originaHy 10w and impure and must painfully stagger through 1 chain of incarnations to ward the ultimate goal ofperfection. the Koran says: Verily, We creale in pelfecl slale - state of purity that des troyed l subsequent \vrong behaviour - ond Ihereupon We reduce m 10 Ihe /oJ\'esl 0/101\', Jvit/l the exceplion / tJ,ose J\'JIO

I,OJ'e /, in God and do good Jvorks.

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-3
PALM ORCHARDS

lie before us. We halt the side oId, ruined watchto\ver to ourselves entry into the town; for old , always concemed with personal , demands the traveller that enter town in his best , fresh and clean as if had just mounted his dromedary. And 50 we utilize main:ng water for \vashing hands and faces, negIec tOO bcards and \Vrntest tunics the 5addlcbags. We brush the \veeks of desert dust from and from the gaily-Iued tas5el5 of saddIebags, and dress camels in their best finery; and now \\' d to prcsent oUT5elves in
.

Thi5 tO\\'Il i5 than, say, Baghdad Medina; it does not contain elements - countries and peopIes; it is and unadulterated like bowl freshly dra\\'o milk. No foreign dress is visible in the bazaar, Jnly loose , ku.fiyyas and igo/s. strccts cleaner than tho$e in other city the Middle East - cleaner, cvcn, than other town in Najd, \vhich is. noted for its un-Eastcrn cIeanIiness(probably because ( people this Iand, having al ways [, have retained grcater of self.respcct than elsewhere in the East). houscs, built horizontallay ers of packed , in good repair - \"'ith the exception of ( demolished city ....aHs which \vitness ( ( la5t \ Ibn Saud and ( House Ibn Rashid and of Ibn Saud's quest of the to\vn in 1921, The hammers of ( coppersmiths pound into shape of vessels, the saws of ( carpenters bite shriekingly..into wood, shoernakers ( the soles sandals. Camels Ioaded \vith l and skins of butter make their \vay through the crO'\'ds; other cameIs. brought in beduins sale, fill ( air \"ith their wig. Gaudy 5addlebags from AI-Hasa being fin gered experienced hands. auctioneers. ever-recurring fixture in tO\Vn. rnove arid do\vn the za and. with loud cries, offer their goods sale. and there sec hunting falcons jumping and down their wooden perches, tethered ( leather thongs. Honey-coloured sa/uqi hounds stre~ch their graceful limbs lazily in the sun. uins in \''Orn aba.\os. well-dressed servants and bodyguards

SPIRJ

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1-19

the - almost of them [ southern province:> mingle with traders Bagl1dad, Basra and Kuwayt and [ natives Hail. These natives - that is, the , of [ \ men see hardly than the bIack which conceals head and - belong 10 of [ most handsome races in the world. the grace and [ wblch the nation has ever seems to embodied in this tribe Shanunar, of which the prc-Islamic poets sang: 'In the highlands live the of steel and the proud, chaste women.' Wben we arrive the ' castle, \ we intend ( spendthe next two days, we find host holding court in [ outside the castle gates. Amir Ibn usaad bclongs to [ Jiluwi branch of the House of Ibn SaueJ and is brother-in-law of the ing. of the most powerful of [ ing's governol"s, is called 'ir the North' because holds s\vay not only the Jabal Shammar but [ \vholeof northern Najd to [ confines of Syria and Iraq - an area almost large <tS France. . (who is old. friend mil}-e). and few beduin SllOykhs [ sitting the 10ng, narrow brick bui1t along the castle wall. In long row at their feet crouch Ibn M~saad's ,ajojil, the men-at-arms with rifles silver-sheathed scimitars who neverleave throughout the day, not 50 for protection as for prestige; next to , [ falconers \vith their birds perched gloved fists, lo\ver vants, beduins, throng retainers, great and sma11, down [ 5tabIe 5 - 11 feeling equa1 [ one another as in spite of the differences in their stations. And how could it otherwi5e in this land where you never address as ' lord,' except God in prayer? Facing [ in large semicircle squat the beduins and townspeople wpo are bringing their complaints and quarrels before [ ;, for settlement. We make camels down outside ( circle, hand them over to the cr of <:ouple of retainers who have rushed over us and proceed toward th~ om;r. rises; and 11 who have been sitting his side the beJ;1Ch and the ground before rise with him. stretches his hand toward us: 'n \\'o-soblan - and God grant life!' 1 kiss the ';, [ tip of his nose ltis foreh~ad, and

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kisses both cheeks and lI to the his side. Zayd finds place among the rajaji/. Ibn Musaad introduces to his other guests; some of the faces are new to and some familiar from previous years. Among these is Ghadhban ibn Rimal, supreme s/lOyk/r of the Sinjara Shammar - that delightful old warrior whom 1 always 'l'. Nobody \vould guess from his almost tattered that is of the mightiest chieftains of the North, and has so loaded his YOUi1g wife with gold and je\vels that, cording to popular bclief, two slave ids to support her when she wants to Icave her tent \ rests sixteen poles. is eyes twinkle embraces and whispers into

ear:
'No new wife yet 7' - to which 1 only reply with srnile and shrug. Amir Ibn Musaad must "' overheard this quip, [ laughs aloud and says: 'It is coffee and wives that tired traveller needs' - calls , 'QaJIII'a!' 'Qk.'!' repeats the servant nearest the omir; and the at the farthest end of the row takes the , Qahlva!' - and so unti1 the ceremonious command rcaches the castle gate re-echoes from within. In time servant appears bearing the traditional brass coffeepot in his left hand and several s cups in his right hand, pours out the first for the amir, the second for , and then serves the other gucsts in the order of their rank. is refilled or twice, and when guest indicates has had enough, it is filled again and passed to the next
.

he is apparently curious to know the results of jour to the frontier of Iraq, but betrays his interest only in brief questions asto wbat befell the way, rcserving fu enquiry until we are alone. resumes the judicial hearing wblch il has interrupted. Such informal court of justice would inconceivable in

the amir, as ruler and judge, is of course assured of respect - but there is trace of SUbSCH i(.'r~ce in : respect which the beduins sho\v him. the iitils and defen dants proudly rests in the eonsciousness of 111$ [ humanity; their gestures are not hesitant, their v~i:::s ~~'~ ,);t~n Ioud and as

West.

SPIR.IT AND PLESR

151

sertive and everyone speaks to the amir as to elder brother. calling - as is beduin custom with the ing himself - his first and not his title. There is of haughti ness in lbn Musaad's bearing. is handsome face with its short, black beard, his rniddle-sized, somewhat stocky figure speak of that unstudied self-restraint and es dignity which in r 50 often goes hand-in-hand with great power. is grave and curt. With authoritative \vords immediately decides the 5impler cases and refers the complicated , which require learned jurisprudence, to the qadi of the district. . It is not easy to the supreme authority in great. beduin region. intimate knowledge of the various tribes, family lationsblps, leading personalities, tribal grazing areas, past his tory and present idiosyncrasies is needed to hit upon tOO correct solution [ the excited complexity beduin plaint. Taet of heart is as important here as sharpness intellect, and both must work together with needle-point in order to avoid rnistake: for [ the same way as beduins never forget favour done to , they never forget judicial decision whieh they consider unjust. the other hand, just deci5ion i5 al waY5 accepted with good grace even those against whom it has gone. lbn .up to these requirements better than pther fI Saud's ; is 50 rounded, 50 quiet and without inner contradictions that his instinct 1 most always shows him { right w whenever his reaches dead . (5 swimmer in Hfe; lets himself { waters and masters them adapting bimself to them. Two ragged beduins are now presenting their quarrel before him with excited words and gestures. Beduins are, as ; dif ficult to deal with; there is always something unpredictabIe ( {m, sensitive excitability which kno\vs comp'romise - l ways heavenand close to other. But now 1 see how I Musaad parts their seetblng passions and smoothes them \'/ith his quiet words. might think would order the to ~ silent while the other pleads ( wh1 claim5to his right: but - lets tbem talk both at tlle same time, outshout other, d only occasionally steps ( \vith little word and question tllcre - { immediately submerged in their passion : Jn~(?!S: h,c in. and ~eenljngly retreats. only 10 cut in

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again a'little later witb appropria.te remark. It is entranc ~ng spectacle, thi5 adaptation the judge's wn mind ( ity so conflictingly intcrpreted two angry en: not 50 scarch for truth io juridical sense as ( slow unveiling of hid den, objective rlit. amir this goal fits and starts, dra\\'s out ( truth, as if athin string. slowly and ratiently, almost imperceptibly ( both plaintiff and defendant until ( suddenly stop, look at other in puz:zlement, and realize: judgment has delivered - judgment so obviously just it rcquires fth explanation .. , Whereupon of the two stands hesitantly, straightens his and tugs his ers1while thc sleeve in almost friendly : '' - and botl1 retreat, still somewhat bcwildcred and ! the time relieved, mumbling the blessing of over the amir. ' scene is wonderful, real piece of : prototype, it seems 10 . oCthat fruitCul colJaboration bctweenjurisprudence justice \ io Westem ts and is sti in its infancy - ! stands here in aII i18 perfection in the dusty market square before tbecastle of an amir . . . Ibn Musaad, reclining indolent1y gains! the mud wall, takes up ( next . His face, strong, furrowed,look:ing out of deep set \\' \varm and pierce, is the face of real leader . masterly reprcseotative ofthe greatest quality ofhis : sense of ( ert. Some of ( others present obviously feel ,!-siriill.ar admiratiol1. sitting the ground before - ni iS beduin ( tribe of Harb and of the air's men-at-arms - crs his . neck toward with smile his face: 'Is ! like that sultan whom tann says,

1 met m 1i--hen Ilis gleaming s'Ord }\'QS sheotlled, 1 sa\~' m 1~"/,en it streamed 1vit/r od, Alld al\~oJ's/ound him / mankind:
,

best

/ a/I

in

m ""OS

still his

mind . . . !

does not strike as incongruous ( er unlettered bed uin '1uote verses of great r~ ,! \vbo lived in the tenth century - certainly not asincOngruous as it would to hear tJavarian peasant quote Goetlle or English stevedore

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William Blake or Shelley. , despite ( more general spread of education in the West, the high1ights of Westem culture are not shared the average European American - while. the other hand, wide segments of uneducated and some times ilIitcrate Muslims do share consciously, daily. in the cultural achievements oftheir past. Just as this beduinhere has to ll to mind verse from Mutannabi ( iIlustrate situation ofwhich was witness, ragged Persian without schoo1ing - \vater carrier, in bazaar, soldier in olltlying frol1tier post - carries in his in verses of Hafiz Jami Firdawsi and \-\'~ves ( ""ith evident enjoyment into his eyey~ay conversation. ! though ( lar.~ely 10st that creativeness wblch made their cultural hcritage so f;reat. these Muslim people now direct, living with its summits.
J SlLL REMEMBER DAY whenImade this discovery in the bazaar of Damascus. 1 was holding in hands vessel, large bo\\'1 of baked clay. It had s~ran8ely solemn shape: big and round, like somewhat flattencd sphere of almost musical ; out of tlle udess of its wal1, which had in it the tdss of W1's cheek. two handles bcnt outward in pcrfect curves (! wou1d done ( Greek . 11ad kneaded hand; 1 could still discern ( finger prints of potter in the clay. Around ( vessel's inward turned rim had etched with swift, strokes of his stylus deJicatc arabesque like the hint of rose garden in . had \lkig quickly, ; neg1igently when created this splcl1did simpHcity which bought to mind the glories of SaJjuk aJ\d Persian pottery 50 admires in ( museums Europe: for had not intended to create \vork art. that \\'<15 making was cooking-pot - nothing but cooking-pot, such as aJellah beduin day in bazaar [ \" coins , , , 1 knc\\' ( Greeks had created similar greater perfec tion, probably in cooking-pots 5 well: for they, too - water car rier and market porter, soldier potter - had truly shared in culture (! did not rest merely the creative excitement of \ se1cct /ndividuals, fe\v peaks which l of genius .

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could reaqh, was to . Their pride in things beau tiful, the things wmch were part of that culture, was of their day-by-day doings as well: contif1Uous partaking in joint, living possession. As 1 held that vessel in nnds,I knew: blessed people who cook in such pots their daily meals; bJessed they whosf' claim to cultural heritage is than empty boast ...

-4
'WILT THOU NOT grant the pleasure of dining with now, Muhammad Amir Ibn Musaad's voice breaks through reverie. 1 look up - and Damascus recedes into the past, where it belongs, and 1 sitting again the the

side ofthe 'Amir ofthe North'. Thejudicial session is apparently over; the litigants depart. Ibn Musaad rises, and his guests and -- rise with . throng of the rojajil parts to make way for us. As we pass under the gateway they close their ranks and follow us into the castle yard. little [, the omir, Ghadhban ibn Rimal and myself sit down together ! ! consisting of huge platter of rice with whole roasted sheep it. Besides us there are only two of the ' s attendants and pair of golden so/uqi hounds in the room. Old Ghadhban lays his hand shoulder and says: 'Thou hast not yet answered qUl;stion - new wife yet 1 laugh at his persistence: '1 wife at Medina, as thou knowest. Why should 1 take another?' 'Why? God protect ! wife - and thou st young ! Why, when 1 was thy age .. .' '1 told,' interjects Amir Ibn Musaad, 'that thou dost not do so badly even now, Shaykh Ghadhban.' '1 old wreck, Amir, God lengthen thy ~fe; but sometimes 1 need young body to warm old nes .... ! tell ,' turning again to , 'what ! that . utayri girl thou didst marry two years ago? What did5t thou with her?' 'Why - thig: and that's just the it,' 1 reply. 'Nothing ... l' repeats { old , his eyes wide . 'Was she so ugly?' 'No, thc contrary, ~bc \\'5 ) n'::H1tiful .. .' '\\'h:H is it :l1l abOl!t?' as\.:c; Jbn \1usaad. '\Vhat ~111tri girl

SPIRI

AND FLESH

}55

two talkil1g about? Enlighten , uhd.' And so 1 { enlighten ll. {! marriage that led to nothing. 1 \vas then living ! Medina, wife}ess and 10nely. beduin the tribe of Mutayr, Fahad \\'as his , used { sd hours every day in ql' entertaining \vith fantastic ls of his exploits under L\ during the Great \, Oneday said to : 'It is ! good for to 1i\'c 1 as thou 40st, for { blood will 101 in thy veins: thou sl1Ou1dst .' And when 1 joking1y asked him 10 produce bride, replied: 'hat's easy. he daughter brother-in-la\v, Mu triq, is \ of marriageable , and 1, as mother's , tell thee that she is excecdingly beautiful.' Still in joking mood, 1 asked m to find out whether [ father would willing. And 10, next day utriq himse1f to , visibly barrassed. fe\v cups of cotfee and some hemming and hawing, finally told Ihat Fahad had spoken to qf 1 al1eged desire to his daughter. '1 would to thee for son-in-law, but Ruqayya is still cblld - she is only eleven years old ...' Fabad was furious when of Mutriq's visil. 'he ras l! he lying rascal! girl is fifteen years old. does not like the idea of marrying 10 - , the other hand, knows how close thou art to Ibn Saud and does not want to otfend I outright refusal; and so he pretends Ihat sbe is st chi1d. But 1 tel1 thee: 11 breasts like this' - and described with his hands bosom of al1uring - 'just like pomegranates ready to plucked.' 01d Ghadhban's eyes shimmer at this description: 'Fifteen years old, beautifuJ, and virgin ... and thcl1, says, nothing! What cou1dst thou want ( that?' 'Wel1, wait until 1 tell the rest of the story ... r must admit tnat 1 was becQming and interested, and perhaps 150 little I spurred Mutriq's sist;:l.. 1 pre5ented Fah~d \vith ten golden sovereigns and did his best ( persuade I girI's parcnls 10 give to in marriage; simil:lr gift \\'ent { mother, Fahad's sister. What exact1y happened in thcir house 1 do 1101 know; 1l r kno\v is that { two uJtit1 ili:d lLtriq to consent to tlle !rri~g ... 'Ibls f-ahad,' says Ibn Mll~a:!d, 'SCt'I11:; ( 11<lVC sly fel

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ROAD

low. and his sister \ obviously expecting st greatel' bounty from thee. And what happened then?' 1 go telIing thcm 110W thc marriage was duly solemnized few days later in the absence th! bride who, according [ [, \vas represented father as her legal guardian and bearer Iler consent - the lattcr being testified to two wit nesses. sumptuous \vedding feast followed, with the usual gifts to the bride (\vhom 1 had never yet ), her parents, and several other close relatives - among \, naturally, Fahad figured most prominently. The same evening bride \Vas brought to house her mother d some other yeiled males, while the roofs the neighbouring houses women sang \\'edding song5 to the accompaniment hand drums. ! the appointed hour 1 entered the room in which bride and her mother were a\vaiting . 1 was unable to distinguish the from the other, for both were in black: but when 1 uttered the words demanded custom, ' est nov,' retire,' of the t\yO veiled ladies rose and silently left the ; and thus 1 kne\v that the who had remained wa5 wife. 'And then, 50, \vl1at happened then1' prompts Ibn Rimal as 1pause at this stage : and the amir looks at quizzically. ' .. ". There she sat, the poor girl, obviously most fied at having thus delivered to unk.nown . And when 1 asked her, as gcntly as 1 knew how, to unveil her , she onJy drew ber tighter about herself.' 'They always do that!' exclaims Ibn Rimal. 'They al\vays terrified at the beginni,ng the bridal night; and, , it is becoming young girl to modest. But after\vard they usual1y glad - \vasn't thine?' 'Well, not quite. 1 bad to remove her face-veil mysclf, and when 1 had done so 1 beheld girl great beauty with oval, wheat-coloured , large eyes and long tresse5 which hung down to the cusblons \\'hich she '.\'35 sitting; but it was indeed the of cblld - she could not have more than eleven years old. just as her fathcr had claimcd ... Fahad's and his sis ter's greed had made tbem represent . to as being riageablc age, while poor utriq had innocent lie.' '50 what?' asks Ibn Rimal, obviously not understanding \vbat

SIR.I

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157

1 driving at. 'What is wrong with eleven ? girl grows , 41oesn't she? And she grows quickly in husband's

bed .. .'
But Amir lbn Musaad says, 'No, Shaykh Gldh; is not Najdi like t11ec. brains in his head.' And, grinning O1t , continues: 'Don't listen to Ghadhban, Muhammad, is Najdi, and of Njdis l1ave our brains 110t ' indicating his l1ead - ' ' - and points to quite another portion of his own . We laugl1, and G:dll into his beard: ' 1 certainly :1\; brains than tl10u hast, Amir.' At their urging, 1 go \vith tlle story and tcll them that, wh01t ever old Ghadllban's views the , { extremc youth of child-bride did not represcnt extra bonus to . 1 could feel 1 pity { girl \vho had made victim of uncle's stratagem. 1 trcated as \vould treat chiId, assuring that slle 11ad nothing to fear from ; but she did not speak ivord and trembIing betrayed , Rum maging through sheJr, 1 found piece ofchocolate, which 1 fercd : but she, having chocolatc in life, fused it with vioIent shake head. 1 tried { put at case teIling amusing story { n Nig/lfS, but she did not \'n seem to grasp it, let alone find it . Finally she uttered 11 first \\'ords: ' head is aching ... ' 1 got hold of aspirin tablcts and thrust them into hand 'W'iLh glass \\'ater. But this caused only still violent outbrcak (only later did 1 [ that of women fricnd5 had told her that those strangc l foreign Iands stims drug their \\'ives their bIidal night il1 order { rape ( the easily). After couplc of hour5 or 50, 1 succceded in vincing that 1 had aggressive designs. In the end she feii asleep Iike the child she was, while 1 made bed for myself the carpet in corner of the . In the mornillg 1 sellt mother l1d demanded that she take the girI m. \\' \vas stupcficd. She h01d never heard Qfa who refused so choice morsel- an eleven-year oId virgin - and must thought that there was somethillg radically wrong \vith . 'And then l' asks Ghdh. 'Noihing - 1divorced the girl, 11aving left in the samc state

158

ROAD

as she had { . It was ! bad deal for the family, who kept both the girl and the dower which 1 had paid, together with the . As [ myself, \vent that there \vas manhood in and several ":ell-wishers tried to persuade that , perhaps [ wife, had cast spell , [ which 1 could only free myself counter spell.' 'When 1 thiJlk of thy subsequent marriage in Medina, hammad, and thy son,' says the : \vith laugh. '1 sure thou Ist \vrought strong , ..'

-5
LATER NIGHT, as 1 about to go { bed in the

put at disposal, 1 find Zayd silent than usual. stands near the doorway, visibly lost in some distant thoughts, his chin resting his breast and his eyes fixed the and gree:} medal!ion of the carpet that covers the floor. 'w does it feel, Zayd, to back in the to\vn of thy youth after )) these years? - for in the ; has al\\'ays refused to enter \\'henever 1 had occasion . visit it. '1 not sure, ',' he re~[ies slo\vly. 'Eleven .. , It is eleven years since 1 was ilojt, kllO\Vest tl1at heart \vould not let ier and behold the People ofthe South ruling in the palace Rashid. oflate 1 have telJillg myself, in the \'ds of ti}e Book, God, Lo,.d /
SO\el'e(r.:llty! gil'cst sOI'e,.eigllty ' 11'110 pleasest ! : G\t'OY 50\'e,.eigllty [ 11-Ilm '). ('xallcs/ J~'JlOm pleasest abasest 11110111 '). [11 JlGlld is tJ1e good, 1105/ - 0/1 ,'/li//gs, No doubt.

God gave sovereignty to the House of Ibn R:l'llid, but they did not know \ to usc it rightly. They \'iCre I1' 'f l to tileir ple but hard their \ kin and reckless !:) .heir pride; they spilled blood, brothcr killing brother; and "-( God took \"' their rule and handed it back { I Si. : ,]link 1 should not grieve longer - for is it not \vittCl ;J~ ,he Book, Smlim )'U 100' tJlillg, olld ;/ m /Ile \m! . l' " - (/1/(1 sUl1u:/imes
)'u hate tblllg, al1d it )' tl1e best Th is s",'eet resignation in Zayd's

/0/' .1'

voice, resignation im plying than tllc acceptance of somcthing that has al happened and cannot therefore undone. It is this

SPIRI

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159

quiescence of the Muslim spirit to the immutability ofthe past the recognition that whatever has happened had t/) in this particular way and could happened in other - that is so often rnistaken Westcrners for 'fatalism' inherent in the Islamic outlook. But Mus1im's acquieseence to fate relates to the past and not to the future: it is ! refusal to act, to and to , but refusal to consider past reality as anything ! ! of God. 'And beyond that,' continues Zayd, 'Ibn Saud has not 11aved badly to\vard the Shammai. know it, for did they not support with their swords three years ago when that dog Ad-Da\vish against ?' did indeed, with the magnanimity of the vanquished so characteristic of true Arabs at their best. I that fateful , 1929, when Ibn Saud's kingdom shook to its foundations under the blows of the great beduin revolt led Faysal ad Dawish, 11 the Shammar tribes living in Najd aside their - animosity toward t11e King, ral1ied around m and contributed largely to his subsequent victory the Iebe1s. This reconciliation \vas tru1y remarkable, for it had only few years earlier that l Saud had conquered foree of arms and thus re-established the hegcmony of the South the North; and [ r~markable in view of the age-old tual dislikc - \ goes (~epnr than dynastic struggle for ' - thc tribc of Shammar and the of south Najd, of \ I Saud is . large , tl1is pathy (\ the ! rccol1ciliation has ! entirely er..l dicated) is expression 01' th.; traditional riva1ry bct\veen Nort11 and South that goes through thc cntire history of the Arabs and has its counterpart in othcr nations as well: for it happens that small dil1'erence in the inner rhythm of lifc :,,, duces hstt bet\\'een c1osc1y re1ated tribes tl racial strangeness cou1d cause bet\\'een entircly ditercnt lleighbouring nations. ! from poJitica1 rivalry, another factor plays consider role in { emotional divergencics bct\\'cen the North and Scuth. lt \ in [ south of Najd, in the vicinity of Riyadh. that nearly t\\'O hundred ago the puritan reformer, Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahhab, rose and stirrcd the tribes then Muslims in 1 - to \ religious enthusiasDl. It

160

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was in the then insignificant House of I Saud, chieftains of the smaH township of Dar'iyya, that the reformer gained the iron nn which the force of action to his inspiring word, and within few decades, gathered large of the Peninsula within that glowing, movement of faith known as 'Wahhabism'. l 1l the Wahhabi \vars and conquests of the [ hundred and fifty years, it \vas always the people ofthe South \ aloft the banners of puritanism, while the North only halfheartedly \\'! along with them: for although the Shammar share the Wahhabi tenets in theory, their remained remote from the fiery, unyielding religious suasion ofthe South. Living closc ( the 'bordcrlands', Syria and Iraq, and always connected with them trade, the Shammar in the course of ages acquired suave laxity of outlook and readiness for compromise quite to the isolated Southerners. of the SOUtll know only : and for the last century and hulf they known notl1ing dreams of ji/lad - proud, haughty WllO regard themselve5 the only true respresentatives of lslam and other Musl.im peoples as heretics. With all this, the Wahhabis certainly not . '' would presuppose the of certain doc trines which would distinguis!l its followcrs from the great mass of all the foHowers of the same faith. In Wahhabism, how , there doctrines - the contrary:this movement ]l5 made attempt to do \ with ll the tions and superimposed doctrines \vhich in the course of centuries have gro\vn up around the original tcachings Islam, and to return to the pristine mC5sage of the Prophet. In its compromising clarity, this was certainly great attempt, which in time could led to complete freeing of Islam [ the superstitions that have obscured its message. Indeed, the re naissance movements in modern Islam - the AM-i-Hadil/l move ! in Inc'ia, the Sanusi movement in North fi, the \vork of Jamal adDin l-fghni and the Egyptian Muhammad duh - directly traced back to ( spiritual impetus set in motion in the eighteenth century N uhammad ibn Abd al Wahhab. But the Najdi development of his teachings suffers from t"rVo defects which prevented it in foree of spiritual destiny. One ! these defects i$ thc narrowness \vith

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161

which it seeks to almost religious endeavours to literal observation of injunctions, overlooking the need for"pene trating to their spiritual content. other defect is rooteo: in the Arab itself - in that zealotic, self-righteous orien tation of feeling which concedes to the right to ditrer: attitude as peculiar the true Semite as its di1til ,sit - complete laxity in matters of faith. It is tragic quality of tbe Arabs that they mustalways swing between two poles and never find middle way. upon - hardly two centuries ago - the Arabs of Najd \vere innerly distant [ 1:1 than other group in the Muslim world; while ever since the advent of Muhammad [ Abd al-Wahhab they have rega:ded themselves merely as champions of the Faith but almof<t as its sole owners. he spiritual meaning of Wahhabism - the striving after inner renewal of Muslim society - was corrupted almost at the same moment when its goal- the attainment of social and political po\ver - was realized with the establishment of the Saudi gd at the end of the eighteenth century and its pansion over the larger of Arabia early in the nineteenth. As as the Collowers Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahbab achieved power, bls idea mummy: for the spirit servant of power - and power does not \vant servant of the spirit. he blstory of Wahbab Najd is the history religiotls idea which first rose the wings of enthusiasm d longing and then sank down into the lowlands of pharisaic self-righteousness. For all destroys itself as soon as it ceases to longing and bumility: Harut! Marut!

VI

DREAMS

-1

FRIEND AND GUEST of great Arabian amir means to regarded and treated as friend and guest his officials, his rajajil, the shopkeepers in his capital, and the beduins tlle steppc under his authority. guest scarcely wish without its being fulfiHed ! , whenever it ful filled; from hour to hour is overwhelmed the warm,

questioning graciousness which envelops hirn in the market place the town less than in the wide halls and corridors the castle. As so often before, this happens to during the two days 1 stop at . When 1 wish to drink coffee, the melodious sound the brass rnortar immediately rings out in private tion room. When, in the morning, 1 casuaHy mention to Zayd within the hearing of the amir's beautiful camel-saddle 1 just seen in the bazaar, it is brought to in the aftemoon and placed at feet. Several times day gift ; long [" of nlango-pattemed Kashmir wool, or embroidered kufiyya, or white Baghdad sheepskin for the sad dle, or curved :Najdi dagger with silver handle .. , And 1, travelling lightly, unable to offer Ibn Musaad anything in return ! large-scale English ma Arabia which, to his great delight, 1 painstakingly marked With Arabic place names. Ibn Musaad's generosity strong resemblance to the ways of King Ibn Saud: which, after , is not so surprising when considers their close relationship. Not nl ihey cousins but thcy also shared - ever since Ibn Saud was young and Ibn usaad still - rnost the difficulties, vicissitudes and drearns of the ing's early reign. And beyond that, their personal ties were cemented years ago Ibn Saud's
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marriage to Jawhara, the sister ofIbn Musaad - the woman who mt to the ing than marriedbefore after .

, MANY PEOPLE admitted to his friendship, not privileged observe the most intimate, aAd perhaps the most significant, aspect of Ibn Saud's nature: his'great capacity for 10, which, had it allowed to unfold and endure, might led to far greater heights than has achieved. So stress has laid the mense number of women has married and divorced that outsiders to regard him as something of 1ibertiQe engrossed in endless pursuit ofphysical pleasure; and few, if , aware that almast every of Saud's marriages - ( those s dictated political considerations - was the of dim, insatiable desire to the ghost of lost love. Jawhara, { mother of his sons Muhammad and Khalid, was Ibn Saud's great love; and now, aJter she has dead ( some thirteen years, the King speaks of her without cateh in his throat. She must extraordinary woman - not l beautiful (for Ibn Saud known and possessed beautiful women in his extremely exuberant rnarital eareer) also dowed 'with that instinctive feminine wisdom which joins the rapture of the spirit to the rapture of the body. Ibn Saud does not often allow bls emotions to deeply involved in his rela tions with w(\men, and this perhaps ( the with wblch marries and divorces his wives. But with Jawhara seems found fu1filment that s repeated. Although in lifetime had other wives,his reallove was reserved to her as exclusively as if she had his only wife. used to write 10vepoems to ; and , in ofhis p4nsive moments, told : 'Whenever the '\lorld was dark around and 1 could not see way out of the dangers and difficulties that beset , 1 would sit down and 8 ode to Jawhara; and when it was fini8hed, the world was suddenly lighted, and 1 knew what 1 had to do.' But Jawhara died during the gre;.t influenza epidemic of 1919, which also claimed Ibn Saud's first-boro and most beloved 800,

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Turki; and this double loss left never-healed scar Hfe. It was ! only to wife and son that could give heart so ful1y: loved father few 1 theirs. father Abd ar-Rahman - whom 1 knew in early years in Riyadh, was, though kind and pious , certainly not outstanding personality like , aod had ! played particularly spec tacular role during his 10ng Hfe. Nevertheless, after Ibn Saud had acquired kingdom his owo effort and was undis puted ruler of the laod, behaved toward bls father with such hurnility that would never consent ( set foot in room ofthe castleif Abd ar-Rahman was in the room below - 'for,' would say, 'how 1 al10w myself to walk over father's head l' \"ould never sit down in old ' presence with out being expressly invited ( do so. 1 still remember ( discom fiture this kingly humility caused day at Riyadh (1 tblnk it was in December, 1927). 1 was paying of customary visits to the ing's father in apartments in the royal castle; we were sitting the ground cushions, the old gentleman patiating of his favourite religious themes. Suddenly attendant entered the room and announced, ' SJzuyukh is corning.' In the next moment Ibn Saud stood in ( doorway. Naturally, 1 \\'anted to rise, ! old Abd ar-Rahman gripped ( wrist and pulled down, as if ( say, ' art guest.' 1 was embarrassed beyond worQs at thus having to main seated \l the King, after greeting his father from afar, was left standing il1 the doorway, obviously awaiting permission to enter the room, but st have accustomed to similar wrnsies his father's part, for winked at with half smile to put at ease. Meanwhile, old Abd ar-Rahman went with his discourse, as if interruption had occurred. After few minutes looked , nodded to his son and said: 'Step closer, ,- and sit down.' Tht" ing was at that time forty-seven or forty-eight years old. Some months later - we were at at the time - news \vas brought to the King that father had.died ! Riyadh. 1 shall pever forget { uncomprehending stare with which 11e looked for several seconds at the messenger, and the despair \ slow l Rnd visibly engulfed { features that were normal1y so serene and .P'mposed; and how jumped with terrible roar, ' father is dead!' and, \vith great strides, ran out the room, his

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trailing the ground behind him;and how bounded up the stairway, past the awe-struck faces of i --, not knowing himself where was going or why, shouting, shouting, ' father is de.ad! father is dead!' For two days afterward refused to see , took neither food nor drink and spent day and night in , How sons of middie age, how kings who had won themselves kingdom through their own strength, would thus mowned the ssi of father who had died the peaceful death of old age?

-2
his own efforts that Abd al-Aziz ibn Saud won his vast kingdom. When was child, his dynasty had already 10st ( last remnants of its power in Central and had superseded its - vassals, the dynasty of Ibn Rashid of HaI1. Tbose were bitter days for Abd al-Aziz. he proud and reserved bad to watch foreign gover mng his paternal city of Riyadb in the of Ibn Rasbid: for now the fami1y of Ibn Saud - the rulers of almost all - were only pensioners of Ibn Rashid, tolerated and 100 ger feared him. In the end, this too m for s peace-loving father. Abd ar-Rahman, aod left Riyadh with s entire family, hoping ( spehd his remaining days in tbe house of his old friend, the ruler of Kuwayt. But did not know what the future held in store; for did ! know what was in his ' s heart. Among ll the members of the family there was l who had inkling ofwhat was happening in this passiooate heart: younger sister of his father. 1 do not know about her; 1 n1 knowthat \\'henever dwelJs the days of s youth. the ing alwaY$ mentions her with great reverence. 'She loved , 1 think, even more than her own children. When we were alone. she would take her l and tell of the great things which 1 was to do when 1 grew up: "Thou rnust revive the gIory of the House of Ibn Saud," she would t ' again and again, and her \vords \vere like caress. "But 1want thee ( know, A.zayyiz,". she would say, "that thc glory pf the House fI Saud must 110t ( end of thy endea\ours.
Mec:tioDato diminutive of al-AZiz.
1 W AS NRL

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Th must strive for the glory ofIslam. people sorely need

leader who will guide them to the path of the Holy Prophet and thou shalt that leader." hese words have always mained alive in hart.' Have they, r? hroughout his Hfe Ibn Saud has loved to speak of Islam as mission that had entrusted to ; and evenin later days, wher. it had 10ng since obvious that kingly power weighed more with hiln than his erstwhile championship of ideal, his great eloquenc.e has often succeeded in convincing people - perhaps even himself - that tOO ideal was stiJl his goal. Such childhood reminiscences were often brought in tbe course of the intimate gatherings at Riyadh which usually took l after the isha prayer (about two hours after sunset). As soon as the in the castle mosque was over, we would semble around the King in ofthe smaller rooms and listen to ' reading [ the Propbet's Traditions from commentary the . Afterward the ing would invite two three of us to to inner in his private quarters. evening. 1 remember, while leaving the sembly in the wake of the ing, 1 was again struck the majestic height witb which towered far above those who sur rounded him. must have caught admiring glance, for smiJed briefly with that indescribabIe charm of his, took thc: hand and asked: 'Wy dost thou 100k at like this, Mwhammad?' '1 was tblnking, Long-of-Age, that nobody could [ to recognize the king in thee when sees thy head 50 f above the heads of the crowd.' Ibn Saud laugbed and, stillleading the hand his slow pocession through the corridor, said: 'Yes, it is pleasant to 50 tall. But there was time when tallness gave nothing ! heartach-e. hat \vas years ago, when 1 was and was living in the. castle of Shaykh Mubarak at Kuwayt. 1 was thin and extremely tall, 1uh { than years would warrant, and {l1 other boys in the castle - those of the s/laykh's family and even of wn - made target of their jokes, as if 1 '",ere freak. This caused great distress, Rnd sometimes 1 self thought that 1 was truly freak. 1 wa5. so ashamed of

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height that 1 would ~raw in head and shoulders to make self smaller when 1 walked through the rooms of the palace over the streets Kuwayt.' then we hid reached the ing'5 . His eldest 50, wn Prince Saud, was ld waiting there for his father. was about own age and. though not as (l1 as his father, quite imposing in . His featues \\ far rugged than the ing's and had of the latter's mobiIity and vivacity. But \vas kind and well thought of the people. The ing sat ,Jown the cushions that , spread along the walls and us l1 to follo\'I suit. commanded: 'Qallll'a!' The slave at the door immcdiately cal1ed out [ to the corridor, 'Q.fl'!' - whereupon this traditional \\'as taken and . in rapid succession other attendants dcwn the length of the , after the other: 'Qalm'a!' - 'Qalllva!' - in de!ightful of repetition, til it :reached the ing's coffee-kitchen few away: and in golden-daggered attendant with the coffeepot in hand and tiny cups in the other. The King ceived the first and the other were handed roundto the guest5 in ( order in which they \ seated. 5uch informal occasions, Ibn Saud would talk frecly anything that occurred to - about what was happening in distant parts ( world, about strange new inventiol1 that had brought to his notice, about people and customs and institutions; but , liked to talk about his own and would encourage others to participate in the conversation. that particular evening, Arnir Saud started the " rolling \'Ihen laughingly tumed to : 'Someone expres5ed doubt to today about {, hammad. said that was not at ll sure whether thou art ! English spy in the guise ofa Mus1im ... But don't \\': 1 was to assure that thou art indeed Muslim.' UnabIe to hold back grin, 1 replied: 'That \vas very kind thee, Amir, God lengthen thy life. But \ couldst thou 50 certain about this? Js it not that God ) k:nows \vhat is in man's heart '1' 'That is true,' retorted Amir Saud, 'but in this 5 1 have gi\'en special in5ight. dream last \veck has givcn this il sight ... I s\v myself st1dig before fr;asqtlc :id looking U!"

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at the minaret. Sudden1y the ll of the minaret, cupped his hands before his mlth and started the to , God is the Greatest, God alone is Greal, and continued it to the eJ.j, hee is God God: - and when 1 100ked closely, 1 saw that the was thou. When 1 awoke 1 knew with certainty, although I had doubted it, that thou art truly Muslim: [ dream in which God's was extoHed could not deception.' I was strongly moved this unsolicited assertion of sin cerity tbe ing's son and the earnest nod with which the King affirmed, as it were, Saud's surprising . Taking up the thread, Ibn Saud remarked: 'It does often that God enlightens hearts through dreams which sometimes foretell the future and sometimes make clear the present. Hast tbou thyse(f experienced such dream, Mubammad?' 'Indeed 1 , Imam; 100g ti ago, 10ng before 1 thought of becoming uslim - before 1 had set foot in Muslirn country. 1 must nineteen years old so at the , and lived in father's house in Vienna. I was deeply interested in ( science of man's inner life' (which was the closest definition of psychoanalysis 1 could give the ing), 'and was in the of keepiog bedside and pencil in order jot down dreams at the moment of awakening. doing , I found, 1 was to tbose dreams in dennitely, ifI did not keep them constantly in mind. In that particulardream, 1 found myself in Berlin, travelling in that derground railway ( - with the train going some times through lunnel belo\v ground and sometimes bridges high the streets. Thc compartment was filled with .great throng of people - so tbat there was to sit down and ll stood tight1y packed without being to ; and there was only light [ single electric bulb. After while the train out of the tunnel; it did not to ofthose high bridges, but g instead to wide, deso1ate plain ofclay, and the whecIsof the (i got stuck in the clay and the train stopped, unabIe to foreward backward. ' the traveUers, and 1 among them, 1eft the carriages and started 100king about. he li around us was endless and empty and barren - there ,\, bush it, , n"t even OPPOSITE: ing Ahd AI-Aziz /" Salld

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stone - and great perp1exity f the peop1e's hearts: Now that we stranded , how shall we find our way back to where other humans ? grey twilight lay the irnmense plain, as at the time of 1 dawn. 'But somehow 1 did not quiteshare the perplexity oftheothers. 1 made way out of the throng and beheld, at distance of perhaps ten paces, dromedary crouched the ground. It was fully saddled - in exactly the way 1 later saw camels 5addtoo in thy , Iinam - and in the saddle sat dre5sed in white-and-brown-striped with short sleeves. His kufiyya was drawn his face 50 that 1 could not discem his features. In heart 1 knew at that th~ dromedary was waiting for , and that the motionles5 rider was to guide; and , without ,vord, 1 swung myself to the camel's back bebind the saddle in the way radif, pillion rider, rides in r lands. In the next instant, the dromedary rose and started fonvard in 10ng-drawn, easy gait, and 1 felt . nameless happiness rise witbin . In that fast, smooth gait we travelled for what at first seemed to hours, and then days, and then months, until Ilost ll count oftime; and with step ofthe dromedary piness rose higher, until 1 felt as if 1 were swimming through air. In the end, the horizon to our right began to under the rays of the sun that was about to rise. But the z far ahead of us 1 saw another light: it from bebind huge, ga1eway resting two pillars - bIinding-wblt light, not red 1ike the light of the rising sun to our right - coo1light that steadily grew in brightness as we approached and made the piness within grow beyond anything that words cou1d des cribe. An as we nearer and nearer to the gateway and its . light, 1 heard voice from :somewhere announce, "his is the westernmost city!" ..:. and 1 awoke.' 'Glory unto God !' exc1aimedIbn Saud, when 1 had ni. 'And did not this dream t thee that thou wert destined for Is
1?'

1 shook head: 'No, Long-of-Age, how cou1d 1 known it'1 1 had never thought of Islam and had neVtl" known Muslim ... It 'S seven later, long after 1 had forgotten that dream, that 1 r Islam. 1 recalled it n1 recently when 1 found it papers, exaet1y 1 bad jot tOO it down that night upon awaking.' S: Crown Prince Saud

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'But it was truly thy fortune which God showed thee in that dream, 50! Dost thou not recognize it clearly? ing of the crowd of peopIe, and thou with them, into pathless waste, and their perplexity: is 1 that the condition those whom the opening sura of the describes as "those who have gone astray"? And the tli which, with its rider, was waiting for thee: was not this the "right guidance" ofwhich the Koran speaks so often? And the rider who did not speak to thee and whose face thou couldst not see: who else . have . but the Holy Prophet, whom God's blessing and ? loved to wear cloak with short sleeves ... and do not of books tel1 us whenever appears in dreams to non-Muslims to those who not yet MusIims, his face is al ways covered? And that white, coollight ttie horizon ahead: \vhat else could it have but promise of the light of faith which1ightswithout burning? didst not it in thy dream because, as thou hast told us, it was l years later that thou camest to know Islam for the truth itself ... ' ' mayest right, Long-of-Age ... But what about that "westernmost city" to which the gateway the horizon was to lead ? - for, after 1l, of Islam did not lead to the West: it led , rather, away from the West.' Ibn Saud was silent and thoughtful for moment; raised his head and, with that sweet smile which 1 had to love, said: 'Could it ! have meant, Muhammad, that thy reaching Islam would ( "westernmost" point in thy life- and that after that, the Jife ofthe West wouId cease ( ( ... ?' After wbile ( i spoke again: 'Nobody knows the future but God. But sometimes chooses to give us, through dream, glimpse of what is to befall us in the future. 1 myse1f have had such dreams twice or thrice, and they have always true. Oneof them, indeed, has made what 1 am ... 1 was at that ti seventeen years old. We were living as exiles in Kuwayt, but 1 could not bear the thought of the Ibn Rashids ruling over homeland. Often would 1 beg- father, God bestow His mercy upon , "Fight, father, and drive the Ibn Rashids out! Nobody has better li to the throne Riyadh than thou!" But father would brush aside stormy . -demands as fantasies, and would remind that Mubammad ibn., Rashid was the most powerful ruler in the lands of tlH:

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kingdom that stretched the sands of ( Empty Quarter in the south, and that ll beduin tribcs trembled before 'his iron fist. night, however, 1 had strange dream. 1 saw myself horseback lonely steppe at night, and in front of , ' horseback, was old Muhammad ibn Rashid, ( usurper of fami1y's kingdom. We were both , but Ibn 'R.ashid held aloft in bls hand great, shining lantem. When saw , recognized the in and turned and SPU"ed his horse to flight; but 1 raced after hirn, got hold of comer of his cloak, and then of his , and then of the lan tem - and 1 blew out the lantem. When 1 awoke, 1 knew with certainty that 1 was destined to wrest the rule from the House of Ibn Rashid ...' IN OF DREAM, 1897, Muhammad ibn Rashid died. his seemed to Abd l-ziz ibn Saud opportune moment ( strike; but Abd ar-Rahman, his father, was not in clined to risk the peaceful Jjfeat Ku\vayt in so dubious under taking. But the son's passion was more stubbom than the father's inertia; and in the end the father gave in. With the sistance of his friend, Shaykh Mubarak of Kuwayt, raised few beduin tribes that bad remained faithful to his fami1y, took the field against the Ibn Rashids in the old r manner, \",ith dromedaries and horses and tribal banners, was quickly routed superior en forces and - in his innermost more relieved than disappointed - retumed to Kuwayt, resolved again to disturb the evening of his warlike adventures. But the son did not give up easily. a1ways remembered his dream ofvictory Muhammad ibn Rashid; and when father renounced ll lis to kingship over Najd, it was that . dream which prompted young Abd al-Azizto undertake his reckless bid for power. got bold of few friends - ! them liis cousins Abdullah ibn Jilu\vi and I Musaad - drum med together venturesome beduins, until thewhole to forty men. rode out of uwyt like robbers, stealthily, without r drums g; and, 'avolding the muh-fqtd caravan routes and hiding in daytime, they reached the vicinity ofRiyadh and made in secluded "l

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ley. t.be same day. al-Aziz se1ected nve compa:nions out forty thus addressed the rcst: 'We six bave now placed destinies in the hands od. We going to Riyadh - to conquer to lose it good. If you should hear sounds fighting fromthe town. com to our ass.istance; but ifyou do not er anythin sunset tomorrow, thcn you sball know that we ed. and God receive our souJs. Sbou1d this pen, you others tur secretly, as fast as you , to Kuwayt.' And the six men set out 1. At nightfall they reached the town and en it through the breaches which years ago Muhammad ibn Rashid bad made in the wal1s the conquered city 10 humiliate its inhabitants. hey went, their weapons hid den under their cloaks, straight to the the Rashidi amir. l! was Iocked, for the ; fearing the hostile populace, was customed to spend bis nights in the idl opposite. Abd l Aziz and his panins knocked the door; slave opened it, nI to immediatt1y overpowered, bound and gagged; the sa to the other inmates of the house - at that nI fC\v sIaves and w. he six dvtrs helped them selvcs to s dates f the ' larder and passed the night reciting, tums, f the . l the rnin the doors { citadel were opened and the omir stepped out, suuded armed bodyguards and sla v~. Crying, ' God, in hy is lbn Saud " Abd al-Aziz and hi~ five hurled themselves with their naked swords the surprised . Abdullah ibn Jil threw hisjavelin at the ;'; but ducked in tim and the javelin stuck with quivering sbaft in the mud wal1 of the citadel- there to seen to this day. he amir retreated in ni into the gateway; while Abdullah pursued him sing1e-handedly into the interior the citadeJ, Abd aI-ziz and his four remainiDg companions at taeked the bodyguards, who, despite their ul superiority, were too confused 10 defend themselVes effectively. An instant Iater there the &t roof the amir, hard-pressed. Abdullah ibn Jiluwi, begging for , whicll was not grairted; .and when )l down the rampari the roofand received the Catal swordstroke, Abd al-Aziz cried ou~.frotn elow, 'COine. n Riyadh! Here am ( ;it-Aziz, son ofAbd r-Rh the Ibn Saud, rightful ruler!' AIid the en

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of Riyadh, who hated their rthern oppn::ssors, running with their to the aid of their ; and their dromo daries gaJloped his thirty-fi.ve companions through the city gates, sweeping ll opposition before them like stonnwind. Within al-Aziz ibn Saud was uncontested ruler of the city.. hat was in thc 1901. was twenty-one years old. i youth to close, and entered the second phase of his life, that of and ruler. Step step, province , Ibn Saud wrested Najd from the House of Ibn Rasbld pushing them back to their land, the Jabal Shammar, and its capital HaiI. This expansion was as calculated if it had devised general staff working with , Iogisticsand geopoliticaI notions - although Ibn Saud had generaJ staff and had never laid eyes . His conquests proceeded spiraIJy, with Riyadh as their fixed centre, and fonvard step was ever taken until tbe viously conquered territory had been thorougbly subdued and .consolidated. ! first acquired the districts to the east and nortb of Riyadh, then extended bls rea.lm the westem deserts. His northward progress was sIow, for the Ibn Rasblds' stiIJ possesscd considerable power and were, in addition, ported the Turks, with wbom they had formed close in the past decadcs. Ibn Saud was 5 hampered poverty: the regions of Najd could not provide him with sufficient for supplying large groups offi.gbting for length of time. t time,' told , 1was 50 that 1had to wn the je\vel-encrusted sword which Shaykh Mubarak had given with Jewish moneylender at Kuwayt. 1 could not af ford carpet for saddle - but the empty sacks tbat were placed under the sheepskin did as weB: was yet wblch made Ibn Saud's l very hard : the att;itude of the beduin tribes. In spite of its towns and villages, trI i is pri marily land of beduins. It was their support antagonism that decided the issues in tbe warfare between Ibn Saud and Ibn Rashid at almost stage. They were fi.ck1e and changeable and usually joined whichever party seemed to in the sce dant at the moment offered the hope ( pcater spoiIs. past master of such doubIe-dlig ,vas Faysal ad-Dawisb, ;

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cbieftain of the powerful Mutayr tribe, whose allegianee could al ways tip the scales in favour of one or the other of the two rival dynasties. would to Hatt to loaded with gifts Ibn Rashid; he would abandon Ibn Rashid and to Riyadh to swear fealty to Ibn Saud - only to betray him month later; was faithless to all, brave and shre\vd and obsessed tremen dous greed for power; and man were the sleepless nights which caused Ibn Saud. eset such difficulties, Ibn Saud coneeived plan - at first probably intended to more than politica1 manoeuvre, but destined to develop into grand idea capable of altering ( facc of tm: entire Peninsula: the plan of settlingthe nomad tribes. It was obvious that, having settled down, the beduins would t<;> give up their double game between the warring parties. Living as nomads, it waseasy for them to fold their tents at moment's notice and to \vith their herds hither and thither, from side to the other; but settJed mode of would make. this impossible, for shifting of their allegiance to the would bring with it the danger of losing i houses and plantations: and nothing is as dear to beduin as his sessions. ibn Saud made the settlement of beduins the most point in his programme. In this was greatly assisted the teachings of Islam, which always stressed the superiority of the settled over the nomadic way of . ing sent out religious teachers who instructed the tribesmen in the faith and 'preached new idea with unexpected success. he organization of the lkl,wan ('brethren') - as thesettled beduins began to them selves - took shape. first !k1'lllon settlement was that of Alwa-Mutayr, the clan Ad-Dawish; their settlement, rt wiyya, grew within few years into town of nearly thirty thou sand inhabitants. other tribes (ollow~ suit. religious enthusiasm the Ikhll'an and their warlike tential powerlul instrument in the hands of Ibn Saud. From then onward his wars assumed new aspect: the religious fervour of\ the lkhln, they outgrew their erstwhile character of dynastic struggle for power .and wars of faith. the lkhlvan, at least, this rebirth of faith hadmore than personal connotation. In their uncompromising adh.e.renceto the teachings of ( greai eighteenthcentury reformer, Muham

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mad ibn Abd al-Wahhab (which aimed at restoration Isl to the austere purity its OOginnings and rejected alllater &in '), ~be lkhwan were, doubt, often filled with exag gerated sense of personal righteousness; but what most them desired else was not merely personal righteousn~s but the estabIishment of new society that could with justice called Is1amic. , of their concepts were primitive and their .ardour frequent1y bordered fanaticism; but given guidance and , their deep religious devotion might enabled them to their ]; and in t~me to 00 ihe nucleus of genuine socia1 and spiritua1 resurgenre of all Arabia. Unfortunate1y, however, Ibn Saud failed 10 gras;> the tremendous import of such develop~ent and remained tent with imparting to the lklllvall only the barest rudiments of religious and secular education - in fact, on1y as much as seemed necessary to maintain their zealotic fervour. l other words, l Saud saw in the lkhlvan movement nl instrument power. In later years, this failule his part was destined to recoil his own policies and at stage to endanger the veryexistence the kingdom had created; and it gave perhaps tbe earliest in dication that 1ackedthat inner gr~tness which his people had to of him. But the disillusionment of the IkJ,WQIl with the ing and the ing's disillttsionment with ( was long time in the making ... l 1913, with the tremendous striking force'of ( Ikhl~'an ! his disposal, Ibn Saud at last felt strong enougb to attempt the conquest of the province Al-Hasa ontbe Persian Gulf, which had belonged to Najd but had occupied the Turks fifty years earlier. Warring against the Turks was new experienceto Ibn Saud; off and 9 had encountered Turkish detacbments, especially field artillery, within the armies of Ibn Rashid. But attack Is, which was direct1y administeled the , was quite different affair: it would bring him into head-on collision with Great Power. But l Saud bad choice. Unless brought AI-Hasa and its ports under his control, would al ways remain cut off from the outer world, unable to obtain sorely supplies of arms, ammunition and neces sities Hfe. need justified the risk; but the risk was so great that Ibn Saud hesitatc~ long before undertaking assault

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Al-Hasa and its capital, AI-Hufuf. this day is food of counting the circumstaoces in which the final decision was made: 'We were already in view of Al-Hufuf. From the sand dune which 1 was sitting 1 cou1d c1ear1y see the walls of the powerfu1 citadel over100king the town. heart was heavy with indeci sion as 1 weighed the advantages and the dangers of this under taking. 1 fe1t tired; 1 10nged for and ; and with the thought of , the face of wife, Jawhara, before eyes. 1 began to think of verses which 1 might tell her if she were side - and - 1 rea1ized it, 1 was busy composing to her, 1tl forgetting where 1 was and how grave decision 1 had to make. As soon as the was ready in mind 1 wrote it down, sealed it, called of couriers and commanded him: "Take the two fastest dromedaries, ride to Riyadh without stopping and hand this over to Muhammad's mother." And as the courier was disappearing'in acloud ofsand dust, 1 suddenly found that mind had made decision garding the war: 1 wou1d attack AI-Hufuf, and God wou1d lead to victory.' is confidence proved justified. In daring assau1t, his war riors the citadel; the Turkish troops and were permitted to withdra\v with their arms and equipment to the , whence they embarked for , Ottoman government, however, was not prepared to yield its possession so . punitive expedition against Ibn Saud was decided at Istanbul. But before it could undertaken, the Great . War broke , forcing the Turks to dep10y their military forces elsewhere; and with the end ofthe war, the Ottoman pireceased to exist. Deprived of Turkish support and hemmed in to the north territories wblch were now administered Britain and France, Ibn Rasbld cou1d 10nger put effective resistance. Led Faysa1ad:Dawish - now one of the most valiant paladins of Ibn Saud - the ing's forces took Hail in 1921,and the House ofIbn RashAd lost its last strol1ghold. ie climax of Ibn Saud's expansion in 1924-1925, when conquered the Hijaz, including ., Medina and Jidda, and expelled the Sharifian dynasty which had to power there after Sharif Husayn's British-supported revolt against the

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Turks in 1916. It "'n5 with the ronquest ! this l Land ! 15 18 that Ibn Saud. now forty-five old, fuHy emerged into the view of the world. Hi5 unprecedCl11cd 5 to power at when most the Middle Ea5t had !\uccumbed to Western penetration filledthe Arab world with tl1e that here at last was the leader who wouJd lift the Arab nation out of its bondage; and other Muslim groups besides the Arabs 100ked to to bring about revival tl1 Islamic idea in its ful1est sense establish ing state in wblcl11hespirit of the Koran would reign supreme. But these hopes rel1\ainedunfulfilled. As his power increased and was consolidated, it evident that Ibn Saud was than king - king aiming gher than so many other cratic Eastern rulcrs before . good andjust in bls personal affairs, 10l to his friends and supporters and generous toward his enemies, graced [ tel1ectual gifts far ll the level of most of his followers, Ibn Saud has, neverthe!ess; not displayed that breadth of vision and inspired leadership \ was expected of . , has tablished conditiol1 of public security in bls vast domains equalled in Arab lunds since the time of the early Caliphate thousand years ago; but, unIike those early Caliphs, plished tbls of harsh laws and punitive measures and not inculcating il1 bls people scnse of civic responsibility. has sent handl'ul of young abroadto study medicine and wireless telegraphy; but has done notblng to imbue bls ple , whole with desire for education and thus to lift them out of the ignorancc in wblch they steeped for centuries. always speaks - with every outward sign of con viction - of the grandeur of the Islam.ic way of life; but has done nothing to build equitable, progressive society in wblch that way of could find its cultural expression. is simple, modest and hard-working; but at the same time, indulges and ll\ tbose around to indulge in the most extravagant and sCl1seless luxuries. is deeply religious and ies out to the lctler every formal injunction of IsIamic Law; but rarely seems to give thought to the spiritual essence and purpose of those injunctions. performs the v obliga tory daily prayers with utmost regularity and spends long hours at night in deep devotion; but it never seems to occurred to

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him thatprayer is l means and not end in itself. lovcs to speak of the responsibility of the ruler toward his subjects, and often quotes the Propbet's saying: ' is sbepherd entrusted witb I,"esponsibility toward his flock'; but, nevertbeless, bas neglected tbe education of ~s own sons and tbus left poorly equipped for the tasks that lie before them. And wben was asked why did not try to organize bis state less personal basis, so tbat his sons might inherit ganized governmental structure, answered: '1 conquered kingdom with own sword and wn efforts; let sons exert tlleir own efforts after : 1 conversation with tbe ing in which bis improvi. dence and lack of administrative vision was fully demonstrated. It was in , late in 1928, when the famous Ieader of the Syrian independence movement, Amir Shakib Arslan, paid visit to the ing. Ibn Saud introduced with the words: 'his is Muhammad Asad, son. has just returned tbe southern regions. loves to t~avel among beduins: Amir Shakib, \ was not merely politicalleader but of many-sided interests and scholar of great erudition, was mediately curious kno\v when learned that 1 was convert to Islam. 1 described to some as pects of that ju to the south, and particularly ences in Wadi Bisha, which had never before visited European. great agricultural possibilities of that , its wealth of water and its fertile soil had struck as e,{tremely pronUsing; and in the course of , 1 turned to the King and said: '1 , lmam, that Wadi Bisha could easily granary sufficient ( supply tlle \vhole of the Hijaz with wheat. provided it were scientifically surveyed and developed.' ing perked his ears, for the imports ofwheat for the province of Hijaz consumed the country's revenues and shortage revenues had always Ibn Saud's greatest worry. 'How long would it take: asked , 'to develop Wadi Bisha in this \"1' Not being expert, 1 could not supply clear-cut ans\ver; 1 suggested thata commission technical experts from abroad should survey the region and recommerld concrete plans for its

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development. It would take, 1 ventured to say, at most about five to ten years to make the [ preductive. 'Ten years!' exclaimed Ibn Saud. ' years is very long time. We beduins know only thing: whatever we have in hands we put into our mouths and eat. plan [ ten years ahead is [ too long for .' hearing this astonishing statement, Amir Shakib stared at , open-mouthed, as if disbelieving his own ears. And 1 could only stare back at ... lt was then that 1 to ask myself: Is Ibn Saud great whom comfort and kingship have lured away from the path of greatness - merely of great valour and shrewdness who never aspired to than personal power? tbls , 1 satisfactorily answer this question; for although 1 have known for years, and known well, part of Ibn Saud's nature remained inexplicabIe to . Not .that is secretive in way; speaks freely about .mmself and often relates his experiences: but his character has too facets .to easily grasped, and his outward sim plicity conceals heart uneasy as the , and rich in moods and inner contradictions. His personal authority is tremendous, but it does not so actual power as the suggestive strength of his char acter. is utterly unassuming in words and demeanour. His truly democratic spirit enabIes to converse with the bed uins who to dirty, tattered garments as if were of thern;-and to \ them to call his first , Abd al-Aziz. the other hand, and contemp tuous to\vard h.igh1y-placed officials whenever discerns ser vility in them. despises snobbery. 1 reI:lember incident in when, during dinner at the l palace, the head of ofMecca's nobIest families wrinkled bls nose at the 'beduin crudity' of some of the Najdis present who were gustily eating their rice in large fistfuls; in order to demonstrate 1Us \ refine ment, the aristocrat daintily manipulated his food with his finger6ps - \Vllen suddenly the voice of the King boomed out: ' fine l toy with your food so gingerly: is it cause are accustomed to dig with your fingers in dirt? We people of Najd are not afraid of our hands; they are clean - and therefore we eat heartily and tbe handful!'

180 ROAD Sometimes, when is entirely re1axed, gentle smile plays about Ibn Saud's mouth and gives almost spiritual quality to the beauty ofhi5 face. 1 that were music not regarded as reprehensible the 5trict Wahhabi code which Ibn Saud fol lows, would undoubtedly expressed himself in it; but as it is, shows his musical bent l in his little poems, his colour ful description5 of , and his songs of war and love which .1 spread through the whole of Najd and are 5ung as they ride their dromedaries across the desert and wo en in the seclusion of their chambers. And it reveals it5e)fin the way his daily life follow5 regular, elastic rhythm suited to the demands of his royal office. Like Juliu9 Caesar, to blgh degree the capacity to pursue several trains of thought at and the same time, without in the least curtailing the [ tensity with which individual problem: and it is this remarkable gift which permits him to direct ll tl1e affairs of his vast kingdom without falling into confusion breaking down from overwork, and still find and inclina tion to cultivate 50 lavishly the 50ciety of women. acuteness of bls perceptions is often uncanny. has a)most unfailing, instinctive insigbt into the motives of the l with whom has to deal. Not infrequently - as 1 myself blld opportunity to witness - is to read men's thoughts before they are spoken, and seems to sense 's attitude toward at the very mt of that ri1an's entering the . It is this ability which has d it possible for Ibn Saud to thwart several ceedingly well-prepared attempts his life, and to make lucky on-the-spot decision in politica) matters. In short, Ibn Saud seems to possess of the qualities wblch could make great, but has never made real at tempt to achieve greatness. Not being introspective tempera ment, has tremendous talent for rationalization, for per suading hi.mself of his o\vn righteousness in the face of the most glaring lapses, and easilyevades all self-examination. Those who surround m - his courtiers and the innumerable hangers-on who off his bounty - certainly do notblng to counteract this unfortunate tendency. Belying the tremendous promise ofhis younger years, \vhen appeared to dreamer of stirring dreams, has brokcn perhaps without reaJizing it himself - thc spiriL of 11igh-strung

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nation tit had wont to look to him as to God-sent leader. They had expected too of him to bear the disap pointment of their expectations :with. equanimity; and some of the best among the l of Najd now speak in bitter terms of what they consider betrayal of their trust. 1 shall never forget the look of i and hopelessness in the face of Najdi friend - who had most ardent believer in Ibn Saud's leadership and had foHowed him through thick and thin in the most difficult of his royal when, speaking of the ing, told : 'When we rode with Ibn Saud against Ibn Rasbld in those early days and when we rode wiih i, under banners inscribed i/aha ' A//ah - ' is God but God' - against that traitor to Islam, Sharif Husayn, we thought that Ibn Saud was new Moses, destined to lead his people out of the bondage of ig norance and decay into the promised land of Islam. But when settled down to newly won comforts and luxuries, forgetting" his l and their future, we found to u horror that was Pharaoh .. .' friend was, of course, far too harsh and even unjust in condemnation of Ibn Saud: for is Pharaoh, oppressor; is kind , and 1 have doubt that loves his people. But is Moses, either. is failure lies rather in his having fai1ed to as great as the people had thought him to - and as, perhaps, could have had hefollow~ the trumpet-cal1 of i youth. is eagle who never reaHy took wing. has simply remainecl benevolent tribal chieftain immensely enlarged scale ... *

-3 ON MORNINO of departure from Hail 1 awaken ed loud music which fl.ows in through the window castle : singing, chirping and strumming, like hundred violins and WiDd instruments being tuned before the opening of grand-opera performance: that disjointjed poly
short time after completiol1 of this book (1953), lng Ibn saud died . thc of scventy-three; and with his passing an of Arabian history came to closc. When 1 saw him last in the autumn of 1951 ( the occasion of an official visit to Saudi 011 behalf of the Govemment of Pakistan), it sceed to {! had ! last . of the tragic waste of his life. His face, so strong I!nd !ively, was bitter and withdrawn; when spoke of himsclf, scemed to speaking of something that was already dead and buried and beyond recall.
:

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of short, discordant 5trokes whicb, they are 50

and 50 5ubdued, seem to n1ysterious, a1m05t ghostly unity oftone ... But this must indeed buge orches , 50 mighty are the waves of it sends forth ... As 1 step to the window and look into the dawning grey of the morning, over and beyond the empty market place, beyond the mud-grey houses ofthe town, toward tbe foothills where the tamarisks and the palm orchards grow - 1 recognize it: it is the music ofthe draw wells in the orchards which are just beginning their day's work, hundreds of them. In large leather bags tbe water is being drawn camels, the dra\v run over crudely fashioned wd pulleys, and pulley rubs against its wooden axle d sings, pipes, creaks and soughs in multi tude ofhiglJ d low tones until the is fuHy unroHed and tbe comes to standsti1l; \vhereupon it gives out violent sound like shout, and the shout gradually fades away in sigh ing chords, now powerfulJy accompanied the rush of water into wooden troughs; and then the camel tums ud and goes slowly back to the well- and again the 1l makes music while the ropes roll over it and the waterskin siks down into the well. Because there so wells, the singing does not stop for single moment; the tones w meet in accords, now separate; some of them gi with new jubilation while others die away. .Whole cascades ofungraspable Jhythms fiow together and away from other - roaring, creaking, piping, singing - what magnificent orchestra! Itis not co-ordinated human design: and therefore it almost ,reaches tbe greatness of nature, whose wiJJ is impene~able.

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-1 E LEFT IL and riding toward dina: now three riders - for of Ibn Musaad'5 , a1-Assaf, is accompanying us of the way errand of the , '. . Mansur is 50 handsome that if were to the streets of Western city 11 the women would turn to 100k after him. is very tall, with strong, virile face and amazingly even fe tures. His skin is whitish-brown - ifIli of good .! Arabs - and pair of black eyes survey the \vorld k1 from beneath \ve11-shaped bro\\'s. Therc i5nothing 10 ofZayd's delicCl.cy or of Zayd's quiet detachment: the lines of his face speak violent, if td, passions and '4 to his pearance aura of sombreness quite unlike the gravity ofmy Shammar friend. But Mansur, likeZayd, has lot the wor1d and makes pleasant ni. I the gr-d-llw, soil that has \v r~placed thc sands of the Nufud we descry theJitt1e animal life that fiJls it: tiny grey lizards zigzag between our camels' feet - [ credible speed, take refuge under thorny shrub and watch our passing with ! eyes; little grey fie1d mice \vith bushy tai!s, . resernbIing squirre1s; and their cousins, the , '\vhosc flesh is esteerned the beduins of Najd and is, indeed, one of the tenderest delicacies 1 ever tasted. here is al50 the ft-10g edible lizard ca11ed d/mb which thrives the of p1ants and tastes like cross betwe~ chicken d fish. B1ack four-1egged beet1es the size ofa small hen's egg obser\'ed as they roll with touching patience 0011 of drycamel-dung; pushing it back\vard \vith strong hind legs \vhile the body 1eans the fore1egs, they roll the precious find painfully to\vard their homes, f their backs if happens to. obstruct their path, turn over with difficulty their legs again, roH t11eir possession few inches farther, fall again. get up.again and work,

J83

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tire!essly ... Sometimes grey hare jumps away jn loog leaps from beneath grey bushes. we gazelies, but too distant to shoot; they disappear io the blue-grey shadows between two hills. 'Tell , Muhammad,' asks , 'how did it that thou hast to among the Arabs? And how didst thou to embrace Islam '1 will.tell thee how it happened,' interposes zayd. 'First fe)} in love with the Arabs, and then with their faith. Isn't it true, uncle?' 'What zayd says is , Mansur. years ago, when I first to Arab lands, 1 was attracted way you people lived. And when I began to ask myself what you thought and what believed in, I to know about Islam.' 'And didst thou, Muhammad, find 11 at that Islam was the True Word of od?' 'Well, , this did not about so quickly. For tblog, 1 didnot that God had ever spoken directly to , that the books which claimed to His word were thing but the works of wise .. .' Mansur stares at with utter incredulity: 'How could that , uhamad? Didst thou not believe in the Scriptures which Moses brought, the Gospel ofJesus? But 1 always thought that the peoples of the West li at least in {m?' 'Sometlo, Mansur, and others do not. 1 was of those others ...' And I explain that people in the West long ceased to regard the Scriptures - their own as well as those of others - as true Revelations of God, but see in them rather the blstory of man's religious aspirations as they evolved over the ages. . 'But this view of min was shaken as soon as 1 to know something of Islam,' 1 add . .'1 to know about it when 1 fouod that the Muslims lived in way quite different from what the Europeans thought should man's way; time 1 leamed sig,lp,~bou.t lhe,teachingsot-Islam,] seemed to discover something that 1 had always known "'ithout knowing it .... And $0 1. go , 'tel1ing Mansur of first journey to the Near East - othow in th~ D,esert of Sinai I had first impression of

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the Arabs; of what 1 saw and felt in Palestine, Egypt, Trans jordan and Syria; of how in Damascus 1 had first premoni tion that new, bltherto unsuspected way to truth was slowly unfolding before ; and how, after visiting Turkey, 1 retumed ( Europe and found it difficult to live again in the Westem world: for, the hand. 1 was eager to gain deeper standing the strange uneasiness which first acquaintance with ( Arabs and their culture had produced in , hoping that it would l better understand what 1 myself expected oflife; and. the other , 1 had reached the point where it was i clear to that never again would 1 to identify myself with ( of Western society.
IN SPRING of

1924 the Frankfurter Zeitung sent out second joumey ( ( Middle East. The book describing previous travels had ! last completed. (It was pubIished few months after departure under the title : Morgenland - which 1 meant to convey that it was not book about the romantic, exotic outward picture of ( Muslim East ut rather endeavour to penetrate to its day-by-day realities. Although its anti-Zionist attitude and unusual predilection for the Arabs caused something of flutter in the German press, 1 afraid it did ! se very wel1.) again 1crossed the Mediterranean and saw the coast of Egypt before . he railway [ from Port Said to Cairo was like turning the leaves of familiar book. Between the Suez Canal and Lake l the Egyptian aftemoon unfolded it self. Wild ducks s\vam in thc water and tamarisks shook their finely scalloped branches. Vges grew up out of the plain, which was at first sandy and sparsely covered with vegetation. Dark waterbutraloes, often coupled \vjth camels. werc dra'.ving ploughs with lazy limbs through the spring soH. As we tumed wcstward from the SuezCanal. Egyptian green enveloped us. When 1 saw on<;y--again the slim. ta11 women who were swaying in indescribabte rhythm, striding over the fields and carrying pitchers free their heads with arms outstretched. 1 tho~ght to myself: Nothing in the \l world - neither the most perfect automobile nor the proudest bridge nor the most thou.ghtful book - replace this grace which has beenlost in ( West

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and i5 already threatened in the East - this grace which is nothing but expression ! the magic consonance tween urna being's SeJj'and the world that surrounds him . This time I travelled first clas5. In the compartment there were 1 two passengers ~ides : Qreek businessman from. Alexandria who, with the ease 50 charaeteristic of 1l Levan tines, 50 involved in animated conversation and sup witty observations all we saw; and an Itnrda, vge headman, who - judging from his costJy 5ilk kaftan and thethick, gold watch chain that protruded from 5 sash - was obviously rich but seemed content to remain entirely uneduca.ted. In fact. almost as soon ji our conversation, readily admitted that cou1d neither read nor write; nevertheless, a1so dispJayed 5barp common sensc and frequentJy crossed swords with the Greek. We were taJking, I remember, about so of the 50cial cip1es in Islam which at that time strongly occupied thoughts. Greek fellow traveller did not entire1yagree with admira tion of the 50cial equity in the Law of Islam. 'It is not as equitable as you seem to think, dear friend' and, changing from the French, into which we had lapsed, into in for the benefit of our Egyptian companion, now turned to : 'ou people say that your religion is 50 . Couldst thou perhaps then tell us,why it is that Isla allows Muslim mento marry Christian Jewish girls butdoes not a110w your daugbters and sisters to marry Christian or Jew? Dost thou c8ll this justice, huh?' .'1 do, indeed: replied tbe um without moment's hesitation, 'and I shall tell thee why our religious law h N=en tbus laid down. We uslis do not believe tbat Jesus- ' and God'5 bIessing upon him - was GQd's $, but we do consid~r , as we eonsider Moses and Abraham and 11 tbe other Propbets oftbe Bible, true'Prophet ofGod, 1l ofthem having sent to mankind in tbe same way as the Last Pro phet, Muhammad - God bIess him and give him was sent: and $, if Jewish or tian girJ arri Muslim, she rest assured that of persons who are holy to her will ever spoken of ievrentl among her new [~y; whi1e, the other hand, shou1d Muslim girl.D18Y Muslirn, it is certain that wbom sbe regards as God's Messen

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ger WiJ1 abused ... and perhaps ber own children: for not children usually foJlow tbeir father's faith? Dost thou think it would fair to expose her to such pain and humilia tion?' Greek had answer to this except embarrassed shrug of his shoulders; but to it see that the simple, iI1iterate umda had, with that common sense 50 peculiar to his , touched the kemel of important problem. gi as with that old hajji in lerusalem, 1 felt that new door tCi Islam was being opened to .
IN ACCORDANCE WITH changed financial circumstanccs, 1 was now to live in Cairo in style which wou1d been unthinkable few months earlier. 1 longer needed to count pennies. he days when, during first stay in this city, 1 had to subsist bread, olives and milk, were forgotten. But in res pect 1 kept faith with the 'traditions' of past: instead ting up in of . quarters of Cairo, 1 rented rooms in the house of old friend, the fat woman from Trieste, who received with and motherly kiss both
. the

tblrd day after arrival, at sunset, 1 heard the muf fled sound nn from the Citadel. At the s moment circle oflights sprang up the highest galleries the two mina rets that flanked the Citadel mosque; and all the minarets of 11 the mosques in the 1>" took that i1lumination and repeated it: minaret similarcircle 1ights. hrough old Cairo there went strange mvt; quicker and at the s ti Cestive the step the people, louder the polyphon ous noise in th~ streets: you could sense and almost hear new tension quiver at all . And all this because the new crescent nounc::cd new month (Cor the Islamic calendar goes lunar th and ), and that month was Ramadan, the most solemn month of the Islamic year. It commemorates the tiine, more th thirteen hundred years ago, when, according to tradi tion, Muhammad received the first revelation of the . Striet (asting is expected Muslim during this month. en and women, those who are , are forbidden to take

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food drink (and even to smoke) from the moment wben the first streak of light the eastem horizon annourices the coming dawn, unti1 sunset: for thirty days. During these thirty days the people of went around with glowing , as if elevated to hoJy regions. In the thirty nights you heard , singing and cries joy, while all the mosques glowed with light unti1 daybreak. Twofold, 1 leamed, is the purpose of this month of fasting. one has to abstam from food and drink in order to feel in one's wn body what the and hungry feel: thus, social bility i being hammered into hu consciousness as religious postulate. he other purpose of fasting during Ramadan is self discipline - aspect of individual morality. strongly tuated in all IsIamic teachings (, for instance, in the tota1 hibltion of all intoxicants, which Islam regards as too easy an avenue of fr consciousness and resposibility).In these two elements - brotherhood and individual self-discipline - 1 began.to discem the outlines ofIslam's ethical outlook. In endeavour to gain fuller picture of what Islam really meant and for, 1 derived great benefit from the explana tions which s my Muslims friends were to provide . Outstanding among them was Shayk.h Mustafa al g, of the most prominent Islamic scholars of the ti and certainly _ the most brilliant ~ng the ulama 1 Azbar Uvrsity ( was destined to its rector some ear 1ater). must have been in his middle forties at that ti, but s stocky, muscular body had the alertness and vivacity of - twenty-year-old. In spite erudition and gravity, his sensc humour never left . pupil"of the great Egyptian reformer Mubammad Abduh, and vin! associated in his youth with tbat inspiring firebrand, Jamal ad-Din a1-Afghani, Shaykh 1 Maraghi was himself keen, critical thinker. never failed to ires upon me thatthe Muslims of recent times had fal1en very-short indeed of the ideals of tbeir faith, and that nothing couid mre erroneous than to ete the potentialities of M1~ammad's message the yardstick of present.day usli and thought . , - just ,' said, 'it wou1d erroneous to see in the Chris tias' unloving behaviour toward another refutation Crjst's InC$S8ge oflove .'

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With this warning, Shaykh AI-Maraghi introduced to Al Azhar. Out the crowded bustle Mousky Street, Cairo's oldest shopping centre, we reached small, out-of-the-way square, of its sides occupied [ broad, straight front of the Azhar Mosque. hrough double gate and shadowy forecourt we entered the courtyard ofthe mosque , large quadrangle surrounded ancient arcades. Students dressed in 10ng, dark jubbas and white turbans were sitting straw mats and reading with low voices from their books and manuscripts. he lectures were given in [ huge, covered mosque-hall beyond. Several teachers sat, also straw mats, under [ pi1lars which crossed [ hall in 1! rows, and in semicircle before teacher crouched group students. he lecturer never raised his voice, so that it obviously required great attention and concentratlon not [ miss his words. should thought that such absorption would conducive to real scholarship; but Shaykh AI-Maraghi soon shattered illusions: 'Dost thou see those "scholars" over there l' asked . ' . like those sacred cows in India which, 1 told, eat up 11 the printed they find in the streets ... Yes, they gob up all [ printed pages from books that been written centuries ago, but they do not digest them. longer think for themselves; they read and repeat, read and repeat - and the studcnts who listen to them learn only to "read and repeat, gener ation ft generation.' '], Shaykh Mustafa,' 1 interposed, 'Al-Azhar is, after 1l, the central seat of Islamic learning, and the oldest university in the world! encounters its nearly page Muslim cultural history. What about 1l the great thinkers, the theologians, historians, philosophers, mathematicians it has pro duced over the last ten centuries l' 'It stopped producing them several ~enturies ago,' replied ruefully. "Well, perhaps not quite; here and there an ind dent thinker has somehow managed to g from Al-Azhar in reccnt times. But the whole, Al-Azhar bas lapsed into the sterility ftom ' the whole Muslim world is suffering, and its old impetus is ll but extinguished. Tbose ancient Islamic thinkers \ thou hast mentioned would never dreametJ that after 50 centuries their thoughts, instead being

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tinued and developed, would only repeated over and" again. as if thcy were ultimate and infaibIe truths. If there is { change for the , thinking must encouraged in stead ot' the present thought-imitation ...' Shaykh AI-Maraghi's trenchant characterization AI-Azhar helped to reaJize of the deepest causes of the ! de that stared in { face everywhere in { Muslim world. Was not { scholast1c petrifaction this ancient university mirrored, in varying degre.:s, in { social sterility ofthe Muslim present? Was not the counterpart of this il!1tellectual stagnation to found in the passive, almost indolent, so . Mus1ims the unnecessary poverty in which ,they Jived, of their mute toleration of the social wrongs to wl1ich they were subjected? And was it wonder , 1 asked myself, that, fortified such tangibIe evidences of Muslirn decay, so erroneous views about itself were prevalent throughout { West? These popular, Western views could summarized thus: he downfall of { Muslims is mainly due { Islam \vhich, far from beinga religious ideologycomparable { Christianityor Judaism, is rather unholy mixtue of desert fanaticism, gross sensuality, superstition and dumb fatalism that prevents its adherents from participating in mankind's ad,'ance tO\\Iard higher social forms; instead of 1iberating the spirit [ the shackles of scurantism, Islam rather tightens them; and, coosequently, the sooner Muslim peoples freed from their subsevience to Islamic beliefs and social practices and induced to adopt the Western way of life. the for them and for th~ rest of theworld . , . wn had now convinced that the mind of { average Westerner held utterly distorted image of Is lam. What 1 saw in { pages of the was not 'crudely materia1istic' world-view but, [ contrary, intense God consciousness that expressed itself in rational acceptance of God-created nature: harmonious side-by-side of intellect and sensual urge, spiritual need and social demand. It was obvious to that the decline ofthe Muslims \vas ! due to short comings in Islam but rather to their \ failure to live to it. For, indeed, it was Islam that had carried the early Muslims to tremendous cultural heights directing their energies {

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ward conscious tbought as the only means to understanding the of God's creation and, thus, of is will. No demand bad been made of them to believe in dogmas difficult even impos sible of intellectual comprehension; in fact, dogmawhatso was to found in the Propbet's message: and, thus, th~ thirst after knowledge which distinguished early Muslim history had not forced. as elsewhere in the world, to assert itself in painful struggle against the traditionaI faith. the contrary, it had stemmed exclusively from that faith. r Prophet had declared that Striving a/ter kl101vledge is sacred duty [ \' Muslim and : and his foUowers were led to understand that [ acquiring knowledge could they worship the Lord. When they pondered the Prophet's saying, God creates 110 disease }~'it/lout c,eating [ '"! well, they realized that searching unknown cures they \vould contri bute to fulfilment of God's will earth: and so medical search invested with the holiness religious duty, read the Koran verse, We /ivil1g t/ling [ H'ater - and in their endeavour to penetrate to ( meaning of these words, they began to study living organisms and ( laws of their development: and thus they established the science of biology. pointed to the of the stars and their movements as witnesses of their Creator's glory: and the scienccs astronomy and mathematics were taken the Muslims '.vith fervour which in other religions was served for alone. Copernican system, wh cstab lished the earth's rotation around its axis and the revolution of the planets around the sun, was evolved in Europe at the begin ning of the sixteenth century (only ( met the fury of ( ecclesiastics, who read in it contradiction of the Iiteral teach ings of' ( BibJe): but foundations of this sst1 had actu been laid six hundred years earlier, in Muslim countries -. for already in the ninth al1d 1enth centuries Muslim astronomers had reac!led the conclusion that the earth was globular and that it.rotatcd around its axis, and had made accurate calculations of Iatitudes and longitudes; d mi of tl1em maintained - \vith out ",' being accused of heresy - that the earth rotated around the sun. in the same \ they tQok to chen1istry and physics and physioiogy, :d 10 tl1c other scienccs in w'ruch ( Mus\im genius was to find its most lasting ffiOl1timerlt. In building that

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monument they did more than follow admonition of tbeir Prophet that // nod way in search / know ledge, God will make easy/ him , way ' Paradise; that The scientisl walks. in Ihe palh / God, that he superiority / the

leamed }' II,e piousis like , superiorilY / the when it is /ull all other stars; and that he ink O/Ihe scholars is i 'n the bIood o/marlyrs.
Throughout the whole creative period of li history that is to say, during the first five centuries after Prophet's ti - science and lrni had greater cbampion than Mus lim civi1ization and m secure than lands in which Islam was supreme. Sociallife was similarly affected teachings ofthe Koran. At ti when in Christian Europe an epidemic was regarded as scourge ofGod to which had but to submit meekly - at that ti, and 1 before it, Muslims followed the injunc of their Prophet which directed them to combat epidemics tin the infected tws and areas. And at time when even king and nobles of Christendom regarded bathing as alrnost indecent l, even the poorest of Muslim houses had at least bathroom, whi1e elaborate p\lblic baths were in every Muslim city (in the ninth century, for instance, Cordoba had three hu.ndred of them) : and tms in response to Prophet's teaching tbat Clean/iness is o//aith. Muslim did not into conflict with l:is of spiritu8I life if took pleasure in the beautiful thin ofmateriallife, for, accord in to tbe Prophet, Godlo,'es 10 see servants n evidence /

boimty.

In short, Islam gave tremendous incentive to cultural acblevements which constitute of the proudest pages in history of mankind; and it gave tms incentive saying to the intellect and No to obscurantism, Yes to aIid No"10 quietism, to life and No to asceticism. Little wonder, then, tbat as as it emerged beyond tbe nfi of r, Islam won new adberents leaps and bounds. and nurtured in tbe world-contempt of lin and Augustinian Christianity, tbe populations of Syria and North Africa, and little later of Visigothic Spain, saw themselves suddenly confronted with teaching wmch denied the dgm. of Original Sin and stressed { inbom dignity of earth1y life: and so tbey rallied in ever-in

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creasing numbers to the new creed that them to understand. that was God's vicar earth. This, and not legendary 'conversion at the point the sword', was the explanation Islam's amazing triumph in the glorious morning its llistory. lt was not the Muslims that had made Islam great: it \vas Islam that had made the Muslims great. But as soon as their faith habit and ceased to programme of life, to sciously pursued, the creative impulse that underlay their civili zation waned and gradually way to indolence, steri1ity and cu1tural decay.

1 had gained, and the progress 1 was making in the Arabic l (1 had arranged for student of Al-Azhar to give daily lessons), made feel that now at last 1 possessed something like key to the Muslim mind. No 10nger was 1 so that European 'could never consciously grasp the total ', as 1 had written in book l few months earlier; for now this Muslim world longer seemed so entirely li to Westt:rn associations. It occurred to that jf was able to - certain degree of detachment from his own past habits thought and allow forthe possibility that they might not the l valid ones, the so strange Muslim world might indeed graspable ... But although 1found in Islam that appealed to intel lect as w as to instincts, 1 did not consider it desirable intelligent to nn 11 his thinking and his entire view of to system not devised himself. ' , Shaykh Mustafa; 1 asked erudite friend Al Maraghi occasion, 'why should it necessary to confine oneself toone particular teaching and one particular set in junctions? Mightn't it better to leave 11 ethical inspiration to one's inner voice 7' 'What thou art asking, young brother, is why shou1d there institutional religion. answer is simple. Only few l - only prophets - are able to understand the inner voice that speaks in them. Most of us are trammelled our personal interests and desires - and if were to [l low nl what his own heart dictates, we would complete moral chaos d could never agree mode of behaviour.

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lou oou1dstask, course, whether there to the general rule - en1ightened people who feel ( have - need ( "guided" in what they consider to right or wrong; but (, 1 ask , would not , very claim that exceptional right for themselves? And what would ( sultT

HAD BEEN IN CAIRO

for nearly six weeks when 1 suffered

recurrence of mataria, which had firs~ attacked in Palestine ( previous year. It began with headache and dizziness and pains in 1imbs; and ( end of ( day 1 was flat back, unable ( lift hand. Signora Vitelli, landlady, bus tlOO around aImost as if she \vere enjoying helplessness; but her concern was genuine. She gave hot m.ilk ( drink and placed cold compresses over head - but when 1 suggestOO that perhaps doctor should caIIed in, she bristled indig

nantly: doctor - pooh! What do those butchers know mala ria! 1 know about it thao of them. saihted second husband died of it in Albania. We had 1iving1in Durazzo for some years and ~, soul, was often racked with pains . worse than yours; but always had confidence in ...' 1 was too weak to argue, and let her f with potent brew of hot Greek wine quinine - not of your sugar coated pilIs but ( real, powderOO stuff \ shook with its bitterness almost more thao ( fever did. , strange to say, 1 had fu confidence in Vitelli io spite of her ous reference ( her 'sainted second husbai1d'. hat night, white body was buming with fever, 1 sudden1y heard tender, intensive music from the street: the sound of barrel organ. It was oot of those ordinary barrel organs with \\lheezy ws and cracked pipes, but rather something that re minded of the brittle, old clavichords which, because ( were too de1ic2.te and too limited in nuances, had long ago discarded in ro. 1 had seen such barrel organs earIier in Cairo: carried ( his back, folIowed him, turning thehandle; and the tones feH 5ingly, short and neat,like arrows hitting thei, mark, like the tinkling of glass, with spaces in-between. And as they \\'ere 50 unmixed and so isolated from

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another, these tones did not allow the listener to grasp the whole melody, but dragged instead, in jerks, through tender, tense . hey were like secret which you were trying to unravel, but could not; and they tormented with their eter nal repetition in your head, over and through the night, Iike whirling circle from wblch there was escape, like the dance of the whirling dervishes had seen at Scutari - was it months, was it years ago? - after you had passed through the world's densest cypress forest ... It had most unusua1 forest, that Turkish cemetery at Scutari, just across the Bosporus from IStanbul: alleys-aild paths between innumerable cypresses and, under them, innumerable upright and.fallen tombstones with weather-wom Arabicinscrip tions. cemetery had 10ngago ceased to used; its dead had been dead for very 10ng time. Out of their bodies had sprung nUghty tree trunks, sixty, 'eighty feet blgh, growing into the changing seasons and into the stillness which in that grove was so great that was left formelancholy. Nowhere did feel so strongly as here that the dead might asleep. \ ( dead of world which had allowed its living ( live fuHy; the hurnamty without . After short wandering through ( cemetery, then throug~ the, narrow, h lanes of Scutari, 1 upon little mosque which revealed itself as such on1y in the beautiful ornamental arabesques over the door. As the d~>or was ha1f 1 entered and stood in dusky , in the of wblch several figures sat carpet in circle around old, old . heyall wore 1! cloaks and blgh, brown, brim1ess felt hats. he 1 imam \\'as reciting passage from the Koran in monotonous voice. Along wall sat few musicians: drum-beaters, flutists and kamallja players with their 10ng-necked, violinlike instruments. It stiuck that this strangeassembly must the \vhirling dervishes' of whom 1 had heard so : mystic order that aimed at bringing about, means of certain rhythmically re peated intensified movement~.! an ecstatic trance in ( adept which was said to m ( direct aJld personal e'tperience God. he silence wmch fol1o\ved the imam's recitation was suddenly broken ( thio,high-pitched sound ofa flute; and the i . set in monotoncusly, almost wailingly. As ifwith movcmeot

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the dervishes rose, threw off their cloaks and stood in tbeir wblte, flowing tunics which reached to the ankles and were belted at the waistwith knotted scarves. Then of them made ha1f-tum, so that, standing in circle, they faced other in pairs; whereupon they crossed their over { chest and bowed deeply before another (and 1 had to think of the old minuet, and ofcavaliers in embroidered bowing before their ladies). moment the dervishes stretched their arms sidewise, the right palm turned upward ar1d the left down ward. Like wblspered chant, the word Huwa - '' (that is, God) - from their lips. Withthis softly breathed bi& Iips, began to turn slowly his axis, swaying in rhythm with the music that to from great dis tance. threw back their , closed their eyes, and smootb rigidity spread over their faces. Faster and faster the circling movement; the voluminous tunics rose and formed wide circles around the spinning figures, making them resembIe wblte, swirling eddies in sea; deep was the absorption in their faces ... he circling grew into whirling rotation, intoxica tion and ecstasy rose visibIy in the , In countless repeti tions their half-open Iips murmured the word, . . . HUJva .. - ... ; their bodies wblrled and whirled, round and round, and the music seemed to draw them into its ffi, swirling, monotonous chords, monotonously ascending-and fe}t as if yourselfwere being iesisti drawn into an ascend ing wbirlpool, steep, spiral, dizzying stairway, higher,bigher, a1ways bigher, a1ways the steps, but a1ways higher, in ever rising spirals, toward some unfathomabIe, ungraspabIe .end ... . . . untiI the Jarge, friendJy hand which Vitelli placed . your [ed brought the whirling to standstill, and ~roke the dizzy spe, an brought back from Scutari to the cool ness of ston~flagged room in Cairo ... Sign"ra ViteJli h right, afterall. Her ministrations heJped to rco maJaria OOut, if oot sooner, at least as sooo as an professiooal doctor could done. Within two days J was almost free of fever, an the third 1 could han fIJ.y bed for comfortabIe ir. St, 1 was too exhausted to tnk of going aOOut, and ti bung heavily. or twice teacher-student from AI-Azhar visited and brought some books.

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t (-rn the whirling dervishes of Scutari omehow bothered . It had unexpectedly acquired puzzling ignificancethat had not apparent in the original 'J esoteric rites of this religious order - of the 1 encountered in Muslirn countries - did not to fit .nto the picture of Islam that was slowly forrning in mind. 1 requested zha friend to bring some talist work the subject; and, through them, instinctive suspicion that esoterism of this kind had intruded into the Mus li orbit from non-Islamic sources was nfir. specula tions of the .fis, as the Muslim mystics were called, betrayed Gnostic, Indian and occasionally Christian influences which had brought in ascetic concepts and practices entirelyalien to the message of the Arabian Prophet. In his message, was stressed as the only ! way to faith. While the validity of mystical experience was not necessarily precluded in this , Islam was primarily intellectual and not ! proposition. A1though, naturally enough, it produced strong emotional attachment in i15 followers, Muhammad's teaching did not accord { emotion independent role in ligious perceptions: for emotions, however profound, far to swayed subjectiyedesires and fears than 500, with all i15 fallibility, could .

'fT WAS IN SUCH bits and pieces, Mansur, that Islam vealed itself to : glirnpse and glimpse there, through vrsati, book, servti - slowly, with out ig aware of it ...'

-2-
WN WE [ the ight, Zayd starts to bake bread. makes dough of coarse wheat , water and salt and shapes it into flat, round loaf about inch thick. Th cJears hollow i the sand, fills it \yith dry twigs and sets fire to them; and when the , after sudden burst, has

dieJ do\vn, places the loaf { glo\ving embers, 5 it \y;th ! ashcs and lights \ mound ~f t\vigs { of it. - Jncoyers { bread, tums it , coyers it After \vhil~ 1 before and Iights another fire it. another half hour the

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ready loaf isdug out the and slapped with stick to tl1e remaining sand and ashes. We eat it with clarified and dates. here is bread delicious than this. Mansur's hUIJSE:r, like Zayd's and rni, satisfied, but bis curiosity has not. As we lie around the ~, to l with questions about how 1 finaHy Muslim and while 1 try to lain it to him, it strikes , with something like astonishment, how difficult it is to put into words 1 way to . '- for, , Islam like robber who ters house night, steathily. without noise : nl that. unlike robber, it entered to remain for gQod. But it took years 10 discover that 1 was to .. : hinking back ( days of second Middle East jour ney - wheil Islambegan to mind in 11 eamest - it seems to t11at then 1was conscious of usuig journey of discovery. Every daynew impressions broke over ; day new questions arose from within and new answers from without. awakened of something that bad bldden somewhere in the background of mind; and as 1 progressed in knowledge of Islam 1 felt, time and time again, that truth 1 had always kno\\'n, without in aware of it, was gradtlal1y being uncovered and, as it were, confirmed. l l summer of 19241started out from Cairo long wandering which was to take [ part of two , almost two years 1 trekked through countries 01 in the wisdom oftheir traditions but eternally fresh in their effect mind. 1 travelled leisurely, with 10ng halts. 1 revisited Transjordan and spent days with Ai Abdullah, revelling in the warm lity of (! beduin land wblch had not yet forced to adapt its character ( ( stream of Western influences. this time French visa been aqanged for the Frankfurter Zei tung, 1 was able to see Syria ain. Damascus and went. he Levantine liveliness of,Beirut embraced for short while 500 to Corgotten in the out-of-the-way sleepiness of Syrian Tripoli with its air silent happiness. Small, old-fasbloned sail ing ships were kin { moorings in the open port, their Latin masts creak.ing soft1y. low stools coffeehouse the quay sat burghers Tripoli, relisb.ii1g their cof and { nargi/es in the afternoon sun. Everywhere and
QPPQSITE: nsu

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contentment and apparentlyenough to ; and en the beggars seemed to enjoy themselves in the wartn , as if saying, ', how good it is to beggar in Tripoli!' 1 to AJeppo. Hs streets aild buildings reminded of JerusaJem: old stone houses that appeared to grown out the soil, dark, arched passageways, silent squares and court yards, windows. inner life of Aleppo, however, was entireJy ditferent from that Jerusalem. dominant mood of Jerusalem had the strange 5ide-by~side of confl.icting tional currents, like painful, complicated ; to \\'orld of contemplation and deep religious .emotion there had brooded, like cloud poison, almost ] hatred people and things. But Aleppo - although mixture of r and Levantine, with hint Turkey - was and . bouses with their stony fa~des and wooden 001 conies were alive in their stilIness. quiet industriousness ofthe artisans in the ancient bazaar; thewurtyard$ ofthe old with their arcades and loggias full l of goods; frugality togeth:=r with gay covetousness, an~ both free from 1l : the al1 hurry, restfulness which the 5tranger and made m that his owh life \ rooted in restfulness: 11 this flowed together in strong, win ning melody. From Aleppo 1 went to az-Zor, little town in northernmost Syria, whence 1 proceed 10 Baghdad the old caravan route parallel to the Euphrates; and it was that journey that 1 first met Zd. l distinction from the Damascus-Baghdad route, which had frequented cars for some , the route a10ng the phrates was then little known; in fact, only car had travel1ed it before some months back. Armenian driver had self ncver gone beyond Dayr az-Zor, but was confident that could somehow find his way. Nevertheless, felt the nced of more tangible information; and 50 we went together to the bazaar in search of it. bazaar street ran the whole length of Dayr az-Zor, whicr was something cross between Syrian provincial town and ~ beduin metropolis, with accent the latter. Two world t there in strange familiarity. In the shops modem badly printed picture postcards were being sold, while ! to :. SI!: Author and North n Amir

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few beduins were talking about the rainfal1s in the desert and about the recent feuds between the Syrian tribe of Bishr-Anaza and the Shammar ofIraq; ofthem mentioned the audacious raid which the Najdi beduin chieftain, Faysal ad-Dawish, had made short time ago into southern Iraq; and frequentIy the of the Grand of Arabia, Ibn Saud, cropped . cient muzzIe-lds with long barrels and silver-inlaid butts guns which nobody was buying more because t11e modern repeating rifles were far rnore effective - Ied drf'.amy, dusty existence between secondhand uniform tunics from three conti nents, Najdi camel-saddles, Goodyear tyres, storm lanterns from Leipzig and brown beduin cloaks from AI-Jawf. Western goods, however, did not like intruders among the old; their utility had given them natural place of their own. With their wide-a\vake sense of reaIity, the beduins seemed to take easily to these new things wblch but yesterday had beyond their ken, and to make them their own without betra}ling their old selves. his inner stability, 1 rnused, ought to give the strength to bear the onrush of the new and, perhaps, not to succurnb to it - for now it was coming close to these peopIe who until recently had been so withdrawn and so hidden: but it was hostile knocking their door; they received ll that newness \vith innocent curiosity and fingered it, so to speak, frorn sides, contempIating its possible usefulness. How little 1 realized then what Western 'newness' could do to the sirnple, [ beduinf ... As Annenian driver was rnak.ingenquiries frorn group of beduins, 1 felt tug at sIeeve. 1 turned around. Before stood austereIy handsome Arab in his early thirties. 'With thy permission, effendi,' said in sIow, hk voice, '1 hear thou art going car to Baghdad and art not sure of thy way. Let go with thee; 1 might of help.' 1 liked the at and asked him who was. '1 zayd ibn Ghanim,' replied, '1 serve with the agayl in Iraq.' It was nl then that 1 observed the kIlaki colour ofhis ka!toll and the seven-pointed star, of the Iraqi Desert Consta bulary, his bIack iga/. his kind of troops, !ld oga}l among Arabs, had already existed in Turkisll times: corps of \'olun tary Ievies, recruited almost exclusively from Centra: Arabia

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to whom the deser.t steppe was and the dromedary friend. Their adventurous bJood drove them from their austere homeland out into wor1d in which there was , more movement, change between today and tomorrow. Zd to1d that had to Dayr az:-Zorwith ofbis . offirers some business connected with the dministti of the Syro-Iraqi frontier. While the officer had since returned to Iraq, Zd had remained behind to attend to private matter; and now would prefer to go with than to take the more customary but circuitous route via Damascus. fraokly admitted that had never yet travel1ed the way along the Euphrates, and he knew as well as 1 did that because of its loops and turns we would not alwa~:s the river to guide us ',' added, 'desert is desert, the sun and the stars are the , and, insha-Allall, we shall find our way.' His grave se1f confideoce pleased ; and 1 g1ad1y agreed to him a10ng. Next morning we left Dayr az-Zor. he great aminad Desert opened itse1fup to the wheels of our Model Ford: unending plain of grave1,sometimes smooth aod level1ike as pha1t and sometimes stretchiog io waves from z to hori zon. At times the Euphrates appeared to our left, muddy, quiet. with 10w banks: siIent lake, you might think, until fast .drifting piece of wood boat caught your and betrayed the powerful current. It was , roya1 river; it made sound; it was not playfu1; it did not rush; it did not splash. went. glided, widespread band, unfettered, choosing its sov ereign w in count1ess tums doWn. the imperoeptible incline of the desert. equa1 within equa1. proud within proud: for the desert was as widespread and mighty and quiet as the nver. Our new ni. Zd. sat next to the driver with his knees drawn up and leg dangling over the car door; his ! glowed new boot of red leather which had bought the day before in the bazaar of Dayr az-Zor. Sometimes we met camel-riders who appeared. from nowhere in the midst of the desert. stood still for moment and gazed after the car, and again set their animals in motion and dis appeared. They were obviously herdsmen; the sun had bumed their faces deep nz. Short halts ih 10nely, dilapidated vanserais altemated with endless stretclles of desert. he Eu phrates had disappeared beyond the hor1zon. Sand hard-b!own

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the wind, wide patches of gravel, here and few tufts of grass thombush. right range of 10w hil1s, naked and fissured, crumbIing under thcs bot sun, grew suddenIy and concealed the endlessness ofthe d~ert. 'What could there , yond that narrow range of n. ~i' asked oneself in wonder , And although knew that the same level hilly desert l beyond, the same salld and the same hard pebbIes offered their virgin rigidity to the sun, breath of unexplained mystery was in the air: 'What couldthere ?' atmosphere was with out artswer or , the vibrating quiet of the afternoon knew sound but the drone of our engine and tbe swish of over gravel. Did the rim of the world drop there into primeva1 abyss? Because 1 did not know, the unknown was there; and 1 would perhaps never to know, it was the unknow unknown. In the afternoon our dri"'et discovered that the last caravan ] 1 forgotten take in water for his engine. river was far away; there \\s well i'or miles around; ll about , tO.the wavy horizon, brooded empty, white-hot, chalky plain; soft, hot wind played over it, 1ig from where and going no\vhere, without beginning and without end, muffled out of eternity itself. he driver, casua1like &11 Levantines ( quality which 1 used to appreciate in them - but just then), said: ', well, so we shall reach the next caravanserai.' But it looked as if we might not reach it ' so'. he sun was bIazing, the water bubbled in the radiator as in tea kettle. Again we met herdsmen. Water? No, for fifteen l hours. 'And what do u drink?' asked the Armenian in exaspera tion. hey laughed. 'We drink camels' milk.' heymust won dered in their hearts at these rid.iculous people in the fast-moving devi1's cart, asking about water - while every beduin child could told them that there was water in these rt. Unpleasant prospect: to rernain stuck here in the desert with engine fai1ure, without water food, and to wait until another car our way - perhaps tomorrow or the day after to mw - or perhaps next month ... In time the driver 10st his smiling insouciance. stopped the

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and lifted the radiatot ; white, thick jet of steam hissed

into the air. 1 had some water in thermos and sacrificed it to
. the god of the engine. he Armenian added little to it, and
[ brave Ford carried us for while. '1 think we might find water there to our right,' said ( timist. ' hills Iook so green - there to befresh grass there: and where grass grows at this time of , when there are rains, there must water. And if there is water there, why shouldn't we drive and fetch it l' Logic has always something i.rresistible it; and so it was , although the Armenian's logic seemed walk . We left the path and rattled few miles toward the hills: water ... slopes were covered not with grass but with greenish stones. wa~ hissing sound in the motor, the pistons beat hoarsely, smoke was escaping in grey wisps from the slits of the hood. few minutes , d something would craek:. break in the eraI1kshaft or similar nicety. But this time we had strayed far from the caravan route; if anything happencd now, we \vould sit hopelessly in this desolation. Almost our cntire of oil had flowed into the radiator. he Armenian had hysteri cal; was 'looking for water', driving to the left, theri to the right, making turns and twists like performer in circus r; but the water refused to materialize, and the hottle of cognac which 1 yielded with sigh did not do good to the hot radiator, apart from enveloping us in cloud alcoholie vapotir which made Zayd (who, eourse, never drank) almost vomit. his last experiment drove him from the st le.thargy in wblch had 10st for so long. With angry movementhe ll his kl lower down over his eyes, Ieaned out over the hot rim of the ear and started looking about ( de5crt plain looking with the precise, careful concentration 50 peculiar to people who live mueh in the and are accustomed to re!y 01' their senses. We waited anxiously, without mUCll hopeL.. , a~ had told us , had never before i11 this part of ( country. But pointed with ~ hand to\vard north <.l saiJ:
'bere.'

word wa~ Iik.e eommand; the driver, glad to ha\'c :m body to him ssit, obeyed at . With painful panting ofthe gi \ drove northward. But suddenly

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zayd raiSedbimse1f little, put ! hand the driver's , and bade stop. For while sat with his head bent foreward,like scenting retriever; around his compressed 1ips there quivered small, hardly perceptible tension. 'No - drive there!' exc1aimed, and pointed to northeast. 'Fast!' And gain the driver obeyed wjthout word. After couple of minutes, 'Stop!' and Zayd jumped light1y out of the , gathered his long cloak in b~th hands and straight ahead, stopped, tumed around several times as if searcblng intently listening - ad for 10ngt 1 forgot the gin and p1ight,so captivated was 1 the sight of strainiIig all his nerVes to orientate blmself in nature ... And of sudden started off with long leaps and disappeared il1 hollow 00 tween two mounds. moment later his ed reappeared and his hands waved: 'Water!' We ranto hirn - and there it was: jn hollow protected fr the sun overhanging rocks glittered 1itt1e pool ofwater, nat of the 1ast winter rains, yel1ow-brown, muddy, but the1ess water, water! Some incomprehensible desert instinct had betrayed its presence to the from Najd ... And while the nnni and 1 scooped it into empty gaso1ine NS and it to the much-abused engine, zayd stro11OO smil ingly, sHent , and down the side of the ,
NOON OF TlRD day we reacMd the first Iraqi village - An the Euphrates - and for hours between its palm orchards and mud walls. agay/ were there, most of them, as Zayd told , of his own tribe. l the shade of 1 trees they strode among sleek horses which sun and green

fi1tered 1ight were reflected: kings fuH of grace and condescen sion. TQ some of them zayd nodded in passing, and his 10ng, black tresses shook both sides of bls face. In spite of his hard life in desert and burning heat, was so sensitive that during our fast progress over vi1lage roads wound his headc10th around his mouth in order to avoid s\vallowing dust - the dust which did not bother even ltS pampered to\vnspeop1e. When we again rode over pebbles aHd there was longer dust, swept his kufiyya back with movement of a1most girlish grace

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and began to sing: suddenly his mouth and sang, with the suddenness of wall precipitously jutting out of plain. It was Najdi qasida, kind of ode - swaying of long drawn-out tunes in unchanging rhythm, flowing, like the descrt wind, from nowhere into nowhere. In the next village requested the driver to stop, jumped out of the , thanked for the lift, slung his rifle his , and disappeared between the palms: and in the there remained scent that had - the scent of humanity entirely round ed in itself, the vibrating remembrance of long-forgotten, never-forgotten innocence of the spirit. that day at An 1 did not think 1 would ever see l.ayd again: ! it happened othewise ...
FOLLOWING DA 1 arrived the Euphrates, ! the point where the

at it, little town old road from to Baghdad emerges from the desert. Crowning the top of with its walls and bastions, the town resembled cient, half-forgotten fortress. No was visible in around it. outer houses seemed to grown into the ws; there were windows in them, only few slits, like loopholes. minaret rose from the interior of the town. 1 stopped for the night in the river bank. While supper was being prepared for the driver .and myself, 1 went to wash hands and face at the well in the courtyard. As 1 was crouehing the ground, someone took the long-spouted water that 1 had put down. and gently poured water hands. 1 looked - and saw before heavy-boned, dark visaged with fur his head; unasked, was assist ing in washing. was obviously not . Y/hen 1 asked \ was, answered in broken Arabic: '1 Tatar, from Azarbaijan.' had warm, doglike eyes and his one-time military tunic \Vas aImost in shreds. 1 started conversing \vith , partly in and partly in the odds and bits of Persian \ 1had managed to pick from Iranian student in Cairo. It transpired that the Tatar's l \vas Ibrahim. Most of his life:- was now nearly forty - had spent Iranian roads; for years had dri\'en freight \vagons from Tabriz to , from Meshhed to Birjand, from

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to Isfahan and Sblraz, and at time bad calIed team of horses bls own; had served in the mounted

Iranian gendarmerie, personal 1JOdyguard to Turkoman chieftain, and as stable in the caravanserais of I; and now, I\~ving to Iraq mule driver in caravan of Iranian' pilgrirns bound for Karbala, had 105t 5 job after quarrel witbthe leader of the caravan and was 5tranded in foreign country. Later that mght 1 lay down to sleep wooden in the palm-studde.d courtyard of the caravanserai. Sultry hcat and clouds of , and thick from sucking human blood. few [ threw their sad, dim light into the dark . Some horses, belonging perhaps to the landlord, were tethered of the walls. Jbrahim, the Tatar, was brushing of them; fom the way handled it could see that not only knew horses but lovcd them; bis fingers stroked the shaggy as lover migfit stoke mistress. idea suddenly to mind. 1 was way to Jran, and 10ng months of travel horseback ' ahead of . \ not take this al0ng? seemed to g ood and quiet ; and 1 would surely nced Hke m, \vho kne\v almost road in Iran and was at [ caravanscrai. When 1 suggested next morning that I might ~ngagc him as servant, almost wept with gratitude and said to in sian: 'azrat, you will never regret it .. .' day ot" the journey from view of the widcspread of Baghdad. From between the crowns of myriads of ! ms shone gi1ded mosque cupola and tal! ininaret. both sides of the road lay vasf, anci~nt graveyard with crumbIing tombstones, grey and and forsaken. Fine, grey dust hovered motion less Qver it; and in the hard light of the noon this dusty greyness was like si1ver-embroidered gauze - misty partition tween dead world of the past and the living present. $0 it should always , 1 thought to myself, when approach~s city "'$ pa5t has 50 entirely different [ its prescnt that the'inind cannot encompass the difference ...
WAS .NOON OF fifth Aleppo wheh 1 caught first

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And then we dived into the midst of the palms - miJe after mile of enorrnous tree trunks and curving fronds - until suddenly the palm grovcs stopped short at the steep bank of the Tigris. This was unlike thc Euphrates: muddy-green, and gurgling -like exotic stran.ger after thc si1ent, royal flow of that other river. d when we crossed it over s\vaying bridge, the fiery heat of the Persian Gulf closed over us. Of its magnificence and splendour nothing remained in Baghdad. ! invasions ofthe Middle Ages had destroy ed the city so thoroughly that notl1ing was left to remind of the old capital of ar-Rashid. Whatremained was dreary city of haphazardly il! brick dweIlings - temporary , it would almost seem, in anticipation of possiblp. change. Indced. such change was already under way in the of ne\v political reality. city had begun to stir, new buildings \vere coming : of sleepy Turkish provincial headquarters r metropolis \vas slowly emerging. immense heat impressed its sign every and made :111 movement sluggish. people walked slowly through the streets. seemed to of bIood, without gaiety and withotlt grace. Their faces looked sombre and unfriendly under bIack-d-whit-hkdheadctoths; and \ saw handsome face with expression of , self-sufficient dignity, there was almost invariabIy red red and-white ku.fiyyo over it - which mearit that the was not from but from the north, or from the Syrian Desert, Central r. But great strength was in these : the stre:tgth of hatred ,- hatred of { foreign power that denkd them their freedom. people of Baghdad had always obsessed longing for fr~edom as demon. Perhaps it was this der.1On \lr so sombrely overshadowed tl1eirfaces. Perhaps tl1ese faces wore quite different look when they ! with their own kin in the narrow side lanes and \valled courtyards of thetown. For, if 100ked cJoseJy at them. they were not entirely without charrn. could occasionaJly laugh as other Arabs did. would sobletimes, like other Arabs, trail the trains of their cJoaks \vith aristocratic nonchalance in the dust behind them, as if they were wa!king the tesselJated floors of pa]aces.. 1 let their \ stroll the streets iil co]ourfu] brocade

ROAD

wraps: precious, il women in bIack-d-ed, blue-silver and bordeaux-red - groups of brocaded figures gilding slowly noiseless feet ... in Baghdad, as 1 was shout reverberated from one of the dusky, barrel-roofed passageways. From around comer ; then another, and third; and the people in the bazaar started to run as if gripped terror of wblch they, but not 1, knew the reason. eat ofhorses' hooves: rider with terrified face galloped into the crowd, which broke before him. running people, coming from one direction and carrying the shoppers in the bazaar along with them. Injolts and jerks, the whole throng began to press forward. Shopkeepers placed with frantic hurry wooden planks before their shops. Nobody spoke. No one called out to another. Qnly off and 011 you could hear the cries of fg people; child wailed piercingly . . . What has happened? No answer. Pale faces everywhere. heavy wagon, sti1l half loaded with bales, rushed driverless with galloping"horses through the narrow lane. Somewhere in the dis tance . rnound earthenware vesselscrashed down, andI could di'stinctly the sherds rolling tbeground. Apart from these isolated sounds and the tramping and panting of the ple, there was deep,' tense silence, such as sometimes occurs at the girig of earthquake. Qnly the clattering steps of run ning feet; sometimes the of wornan child out of the pressing, flowing rnass. Again riders. ni, fl.ight, and silence. mad confusion at the crossings of the covered streets. Caught in the throng at one of these crossings, 1 could not forivard or backward, and indeed did not knowwhere to go. At that moment 1 felt sorneone grasp rrn: and there was Zayd, pulling toward and behind barrier ofbarrels -' t\veen two shops. 'Don't budge,' whispered. Sornetblng whizzed - rifle bullet?Impossible ... From far away, somewhere deep in the bazaar, the muf fled roar of manyvoices. ain something whizzed and whined. and this time there was possibility of mistaking it: it wa.r
FEW WEEKS AFTER arrival stg through the Great Bazaar,

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bullet ... In the distance faint, rattling sound, as if somebody were scattering dry peas over hard floor. It slowly approached and grew in volume, that regular, repeated rattJing: and then 1 recognized it: machine guns ... again, as so times before, Baghdad had risen in volt. the preceding day, the twenty-ninth of , 1924, the Iraqi parliament had ratified, against the popular wiIl, Treaty Friendship \vith Britain; and now nation in despair was trying to defend itself against the friendship of great power ... As 1 subsequently learned, entrances to the bazaar had been sealed off British troops to suppress demonstration, and people were ki1led that day indiscriminate cross firing into the bazaar. Had it not been for Zayd, 1 would prob have run straight into the machine-gun fire. That was the real beginning our friendsblp. zayd's world wise, retieent manliness appealed strongly to ; and he,on his , had quite obviously taken liking to the young European who had so little prejudice il1 against the s and their manner living. told the simple story of his life: how , as his father before , had gro\vn in the serviee ofthe rulers Hai1, the ShammAr dynasty Ibn Rashid; and how, when was conquered Ibn Saud in 1921 and the last amir the House Ibn Rashid Ibn Saud's prisoner, the Shammar tribe, and Zayd among them, left their homelands, pr~ferring uncertain future to submission to new ruler. And there was, wearing the seven-pointed star Iraq his igaJ and pining the land his youth. During the weeks sojourn in Iraq we saw lot other, and remained in touch through the years that foIlowed. 1 wrote to occasionaIly, and onee twiee sent small present purcbased in the Iranian or Afghan bazaars; and every time would answer in bls clumsy, almost i1legible scrawl, recalIing tbe days we had spent tQgether riding along the banks the Euphrates or visiting the winged lions in the ruins Babylon. Finally, when 1 to Arabia in 1927,1 asked m to join ; which did in the fol1owing year. ! ever sinee has companion, more comrade than servant.

210

IN EARL TWENTJES automobiles were StiI1 COmpar atively in Iran, and only few plied for hire between the main centres. one wanted to leave the three or four trunk: roads, one had to depend horse-driven vehicles; and even these could not go everywhere, for there were parts of Iran where roads existed at al1. For someone 1ike , avid to meet the people of the land their wn terms, travel horseback was clearly indicated. And , during 1a5t week in Baghdad, assisted Ibrahim, 1 attended every moming thehorse market outside the city. After days negotiations, 1 purchased horse for myself and mule for Ibrahim. mount was beautiful chestr\.utstaIlion 01" South-Iranian breed, while the mule - live ly, obstinate animal with muscles like steel cables under grey velvet skin - had obviously from Turkey; it would easily , apart from its rider, the large saddlebags in which 1 was to keep all persona1 necessities. Riding horse and leading the mule the halter, Ibrahim set out morning toward haniqin, the last Iraqi to~n the Iranian frontier and terminus of branch line of the Baghdad Railway; and 1 fol1owed two days later train, to meet there. We left Khaniqin and the Arabian world behind us. Before us stood yellow hills, like sentinels against the blgher mountains: the mountains ofthe Iranian plateau,'a new, waiting world. frontier post was lonely little building topped faded, 18t tered Bag in green, wblte and red with the symbol of the lion with sword and rising sun. few customs officers in sloppy uniforms and wblte slippers 011 their feet, black of and white of skin, xamin scanty luggage with something like friendly irony. hen one of them addressed : 'Everything is in order ,janab-i-ali. Your graciousness is above our dese~. Would you grant us favour of drinlcing glass of tea with us l' And whi1e 1 was still wondering at the iza, old-fasbloned tesy of thcsc phrases, it oocurred to how different, in spite of its man ra words, the Persian language was from the ra. melodious, cultivated sweetness lay in it, and the 80ft, pen intonation its vowels sounded strangely 'Westem' after hot consonant language of the Arabs. We were not the only travellers; severa. canvas wagons,

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drawn four horses, were standing before the customs house, and l was . he en were cooking their food over campfires. hey seemed to have given 1l thought ofgoing ahead, despite the early of ( aftemoon, and we, 1 do not remember why, decided to d9 the same. We spent the night in the , sleeping the ground blankets. In the early dawn the wagons and caravans ( move toward the naked mountains; and we rode with them. As the road mounted steadily, we soon outpaced ( slow-moving wag ons and rode alone, deeper and deeper into the mountain land of ( Kurds, ( land of the ll, bIond herdsmen. 1 sa\" the first of them when, at turn of ( road, stepped out of arustling hut made of branches and offered , wordlessly wooden bowl brimming with buttermi1k. was haps seventeen years, barefoot, ragged, unwashed, with the nants of felt 1lis tousled head. As 1drank the thin, light l salted and wonderfully ] milk, 1 saw ( rim of the bowl the blue s that were fixedly gazing ! . There was sometblng in (m of ( brittle, damp-sweet fogginess which li - animals - primeval sleepiness, not yet quite broken ... In the afternoon we reached Kurdish tent vi11age that l softly tucked between ll sJopes. tents resembled those of beduin half-nomads in Syria lraq: coarse black cloth goat hair stretched over severa1 poles, with wal1s of straw matting. stream was flowing , its banks shaded groups ofwhite poplars; rock over the water family of storks excitedly clattered their beaks and beat their wings. in indigo blue jacket was striding with lQng, light steps toward the tents; out s earth-bound ! nevertheless very loose movements spoke old nomad bl>d. woman wearing amaranth-red, trang dress, with tal1 earthenware jar her shoulder, slowly approacbed stream; her thigbs were clearly optlined against the 50ft cloth of her es: v.rere 10 and (ns 1ikeviolin strings. She knl! down the water's edge and bent over ( scoop water into ber jar; turban1ike headdress loose and touched, like red stream of blood, the g1ittering surface of tbe water - but on1y for an instant, to taken and again wound around bead with single, gliding gesture that still

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belonged, as it were, to her kneeling-down and was part of"the same movement. Somewhat later 1 sat the bank, in the of an old and four young women. All four had the perfect and naturalness born of life i freedorn: beauty that was aware of it se1f and yet was chaste; pride which knew hiding and yet was hardly distinguishable shyness and humility. prettiest among them bore the chirping bird-name - (with the vowel pronounced as in French). eritire forehead was covered, down to the delicate brow, carmine-red scarf; ( eyelids were tinted with ; from under the scarf protruded au m locks with little silver chains braided into them; at every movement of the head they tinkled against the tender, concave cheekline. We enjo)led the conversation, although Persian was still clumsy. (fhe Kurds have language of their own, but most them also understand , which is related to it.) were shrewd, these Iittle \ who had never gone beyond the vironment of their tribe and, of course, could neither read write; they easi1y understood stuil1g expressions and often found the word for which 1 was groping and put it, with matter-of-fact sureness, into mouth. 1 asked them about their doings, and they answered , enumerating the little and yet so great things which fill the day of nomad woman: grinding grain between two flat stones; baking bread in glowing ashes; milking sheep; shaking curds in leather bags until thcy tum to butter; spinning with hand spindlcs m out of sheep's wool; knotting carpets and weaving kilims in pattems almost as old as their race; bearing children; and giving their restfut ness and l ... Unchanging : today, yesteI'day and tomorrow. For these shepherds time exists, except the sequence of days, nights and seasons. The night has made dark for sleep; the day is light for the necessitiesof life; winter reveals itself in the growing cold and the scarcity of pastures in the mountains: and so they wan- . der with their flocks and tents down into the warm plains, into . Mesopotamia and ( the Tigris; later, \vhen the summer grows with its sultriness and hot winds, back into the mountains, either here to another ptace within the traditionat grounds of the tribe.

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'Don't you desi to in houses of stone 7' I asked { old , who had hardly spoken word and had smilingly Hs tened to talk. ''! desire to fields of own7' he oId shook his head sIowly: 'No ... if water stands motionless in pooIs, it becomes stale, muddy and fou\; only when it moves and flows does it remain clear ...' IN , KURDISAN receded into the past. For nearly eigbteen months 1 wandered through the length and breadth of that strangest lands, Iran. I to know nation (! combined in itself the wisdom of thirty centuries of culture and the volatile unpredictability children; nation that could Iook with Iazy irony at itself and 11 that happened around it - and moment Iater could tremble in wild, volcanic passions. 1 enjoyeJ cultured ease of the cities and ( sharp, exhilarating steppe winds; 1 slept in the castles of provinciaI governors with score of servants at disposaI, and in half-ruined where at nigbt hadto take to kill scorpions before were stung them. 1 partook of whole. roasted sheep as guest ofBakhtiari and Kashgai tribesmen. and ofturkeys stuffed witll apricots in the dining rooms rich merchants; I watched the abandonment and blood-intoxication of the festivaI of , listened to the tender verses ! z sung to the accompaniment of lute the heirs of Iran's ancient glories. 1 strolled under the poplars of Isfahan and admired the stalactite rt.1s, precious faIence fa~des and gilded domes of its great mosques. Persian almost as familiar to as Arabic. 1 beld converse with educated men in cities. soldiers and nomads, traders inthe r. cabinet ministers and religiousleaders. wandering dervishes and wise opium smokers in wayside taverns. 1 stayed in towns and ! and trekked through deserts and perilous salt swamps, and 105t myself entirely in tlie timeless air of that broken-down wonderland. 1 to know the lranian l and their and their thoughts alm05t as if 1 had been among them: but this land and this , complex and fas cinating like n old jewel that sparkles dimly tbrough multiple facets, never 5 clo5e to h~rt the g1ass-e::lear world of the Arabs.

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Foc over six months 1rode through the wi1d mountains and steppes of Afghanistan: six months in world where the nns which every carried were not meant for omament, and wbere every word and step had to watched lcst bul1et should singing through the air. Sometimes Ibrahim and 1 and ocCasional had to defend 1ivcs against bandits, of whom Afghanistan was full in those days; but if it happened to Friday, bandits held threat, they sidered it shameful to and kil1 the day set aside for { worship the Lord. , Kandahar, 1 narrowly missed being shot 1 had inadvertently looked the covered face of pretty village wornan working in the field; while the Mongol vilJagers in the high gorges of the Hindu-Kush - descendants ofthewarrior hosts of Jinghiz - it was not regarded as unseem1y to let sleep the of tbe - hut side side with the host's \vife and sisters. For weeks 1 was guest of ll h, i of Af ghanistan, in his capital, Kabul; forlong nights 1 disci.lssed with his leamed the teachings ofthe ; and other nights 1 discussed with Pathan kh in their black tents how best to circumvent areas engaged in intertribal warfare. And with day of those two years in Iran and Afghanis tan the certainty grew in that 1 was approaching some final answer.
' IT SO HAPPENED, Mansur, that the understanding ofhow Muslims ]ived brought daily closer to better under standing oflsJam. Islamwas always uppermost in mind .. : It is time for the isl10 : says Zayd, g1ancing at the night sky. We lin for the last of the day, three of us [ toward : layd and Mansur stand side sideand 1 in front ofthem,leading the congregationaJ prayer (for { Prophet has described every assembly of t\VO or as congregation). 1 raise hands and begin, Jlll11 akbar - God alone is Great' - and then recite, as uslims always do, ! apening of the Koran:

ln

, ntne / God, the Most Grac;ous, the Dispenser / . 1/ praise ;3 due ( God aloe, St;nr / the Ul1i~'erse,

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The Most Gracious, the Dispenser / Grace.

Lord / the Day /Judgent.
Thee (n do we worship,
And Thee /n do we beseech / help.
Lead the rigllt way,
The ~'ay / those \vho ;s Thy [,
Not / }vho Thy wratll, n / those Jvho go

And 1 follow with the hundred and twelfth sura:

ln tl,e / God, rlle Most Gracious, the Dispenser / ,
Say: God is ,
Se/f-Su/.ficielll WI,om e~'erything depends.
begers not, n is begotten,
And rl,cre is naught that could /ikened Him.

There few things, if , which bring so closeto another as praying together. This, 1 believe, is true of every ligion, bat particularly so ofJslam, which rests ( beliefthat intermediary i~ necessary, indeed possible, between and God. absence of 1l priesthood, clergy, of an organized 'church' makes every Muslim [~l that is truly sharingin, and not merely attending, m act of worship when he prays in congregation. Since there sacraments in Islam, every adult and sane Muslim perform anyreligious function whatsoever, whether it Ieading congregation in , performing marriage m conducting burial service. None need 'ocdained' ( service of God: th'e ligious teachers leaders ofthe cornmunity simple who cnjoy (sometimes deserved and times not) erudition in theology and religious law.

-3- 1 W DA \VN: but eyelids heavy \vith' sleep. .. ' the wind glides \vith , humming sound of ,the fnding night into tl1e rising day. I 1 gct to wash the sk~'r from face. coid \vater is like / touch from \\' landscapes - mountains covered with dark u5. nd streams tl13t and flow and always cemaincleat _.. I sit l1aunchcs an,1 k head back 50 ti1at myface

2J6

__

might 10ng remain wet; the wind strokes its wetness. strokes it witb - ~ender memory of all l . 10ng-past wintry days ... of mountains and rushing waters .. of riding through snow and gJistening whiteness .. the whiteness of that day years ago when 1 rode over snow-covered Iranian tains without , pushing slowly forward. every step of the horse sinking-down into snow and the next '~ils cJam bering out of snow ... At of that day, 1 , we rested in village in habited strange folk who resembled gypsies. or twelve holes in the ground, with tow domes brushwood and earth; gave the tonely settlement - it was in southeastem Iran, in the province irrn - the of city of moles. Like underworld beings from fairy taJe, people crawled out of the dark openings to wonder at the strangers. top of the earthen domes sat young woman combing her 10ng, bIack, tousled hair; her olive-browri face was tumed with closed eyes toward the mid1 sun, and she sang with 10w voice song in some outlandish tongue. tal arm-rings jangled around her wrists; wblch were narrow and strong like the fet locks of wild animals in primeval forest. warm numbed limbs, 1 drank tea and -lots of it - with the gendarme who accompanied }brahirn and . As 1 remounted horse, tl drunk, and set out at gallop, the whole wor\d lay suddenly wide and bcfore 1 eyes as never before; 1 saw its inner and felt ( beat of its . pulse in the wblte loneliness and beheld 11 tbat had hidden from but moment ago; and 1 knew that all the answers are but waiting for us whi1e we, poor fools, ask questions and wait foc the secrets of God to tbemselves up to us: when they, the while,are waiting for us to ourselves up to them .. tableland opened efore , and 1 spurred horse and flew like ghost through crystalIine light, and the snow whirled up the hooves of Jl1yhorse flew around like mantle sparks,. and the hooves of horse thundered the ice of frozen streams ... I tnk it must been then tl1at1 experienced, not yet fully Undcf.andin,g it myself, the opening gr~ce - that grace of wbic'ft: Father felix had spoken to long, long ago, when 1 was starting out the joumey that was destined to change whole

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the revelation of grace which tells you that are the pected .. More than year was to elapse between that mad ride over ice and snow and rn' conversion to Islam; but even then 1 l, without knowing it, straight as arrow ward .
AND NOW FACE is dry, and that Iranian winter day of more than seven years ago falls back into the past. It falls back - but not to disappear: for that pastis ofthis present. ] breeze, breath of the morning that is to , makes the thornbushes shiver. stars beginning to pale. Zayd! Mansur! Get up, get up! Let us rek.indJe the fire and coffee - and then we shall saddle ~be dromedaries and ride , through another day. through { desert that waits for us with arms.

Viff

JINNS

-1

tig, black snake isalmost as tblck as child's and h IODg. It stops and its head in directiOR. With a1most . reflex movement, 1 slide down from the saddJe, unslig carbine, kneel and take aim - and at the sa.me moment 1 Mansur's voice behind : 'Don't shoot - don~.t ... !' - but 1 already pressed the trigger; { snake jerks, writhes and is dead. Mansur's disapproving ( . 'I shouldst not killed it ... anyhow, not ! the {i of ; for this is { time \vhen { jinns out from ground often assume { shape of znake .. .' 1 laugh reply: ' Mansur, thou dost not ]] be1ieve those old wives' tales about jinns in the shape of snakes l' 'Of course 1 li in jinns. Does not the Book of tion them? As to the' shapes in which they sometimes to us - 1 don't know ... 1 have { assume the strang est and most unexp,eeted of forms ...' right, Mansur, 1 think to myself, for, indeed, is it 50 farf<;:tched to that, apart from the beings which senses , there some that elude tion? 18 it not kind of intellectual arrogance which modem reject the possibility of life-forms other than those \vhich observed measured ? existence of jinns. \vhatever they )' , ! proved 5cientific .. neither disprove the possible existence of living being$ whose biological laws m so entirely different from own thtlt outer senses establish contact \vith them only IJndcr ~'ey exceptional circumstances. Is it ! pos sible that such occasional crossing ofpath5 between these knowJ'l \\'orJds and ours gives rise to strange manifestations
218

SUN IS ABOUT When suddenly s1ithers across path: it

29
", man's;primitive fantasy hasintcJ1?ren:d as ghsts,dns and such~atHer 'supernatural~ apparitions;?" As ! dromedary.. p]~g with these questions with tlie lm1fl.smiling disbelief Im1' wbose: upgrng has made im more thick-sk.inned thanare:peopJe wl alw,a.ys lived c}oset'1' { , Zayd turns with serious countenance towardme:' ' isright, uncle. Thol1.shouldst not kilIed the snake. , manyyears back - \vhem.I; Ieft ' after Ibn Saud had taken the town - 1 shot sna:ke Iike that one 011 way { Iraq,lt:was aIsoat the time when thesun wassetting. short while afterward, w1'w stopped tsaursust , 1 suddenly fClta leaden weight in legs'anda burning l head, and my;head began to like the g waters, and limbs 1ike fire, and 1 couJd not stand upright and to the ground empty sack, and everything dark around . 1donot know how Jong 1 remained in that dark ness, 1 that [ the end 1 stood again. known stood to right and another myfeft,and they le.d into great, dusky ll that was who walked and down in excitement and taJked - other. After while 1 aware that \ two distinct , as before jU5tice. oJd smaH size was 5it ting raised dai5 in the backgrotlnd; seemed to judge chieftain, or something like that. And 1l ! 1 knew tl:at 1 was the . 'Someone said: " killed himjust before sunsety shot from bls rifle. Hei~guilty~'''One ofthe opposing : " did ! khow whom he was killing; andhe the God when ll the triggcr." But those of the accusing shouted : " did not pronounce it!" - whereupon the other party repeated, 11 together, in chorus: " did, did praise the God!" - l 50 it continued \vhile, back d forth, accusation d defence, until { ( end ( defending party seemed to gain their point and thejudge in ( background decided: " did not know whom he was ki1ling. and he did praise the God. Lead back!" 'And the two (nen who had brought { the ll of judg ment took the s again, lcd back the sm \\ into (! great darkness ! of~\'h:C'h J had , and laid

220

( gr.ound. I opened eyes - and saw mysellying between few sacks ofgrain which had pi1ed both sides of ; and over ( was stretched piece of tent clothto protect from ( rays of ( sun. It seemed to early forenoon,and panions had evidently made . ' the distance 1 could see our camels grazing the slopeof h. 1 wanted to raise hand, but limbs were extremely weary. When my companions bent his face over , 1 said, "Coffee ..." - for from nearby Iheard the sound of the coffee . friend jurnped up: " speaks, hespeaks! has to!" - and they brought fresh, hot coffee. 1 asked them, "Was 1 unconscious the whole night?" And thc;y answered, " whole night? Full Cour days thou didst budge! We always loaded thee like sack onto of the camels, and unloaded thee again at night; and we thought that we would have to thee here. But praise to Him who gives and takes life, the Living who never dies ..." '50 thou seest, uncle, one should not kil1 snake ! sun set.' And although half mind continues to smile at Zayd's tiv, the other half seems ( sense the weaving of unseen forces in the gathering dusk, an eerie commotion of sounds so fine that the hardly grasp (, and breath of hstt in the air: and 1 have faint feeling of regret at having shot ( snake ! sunset . . .

-2
of our third day out of HaIl we. stop ( water our camels at the weIls of Arja. in almost circular valley enclosed between low hs. he t\VO wells, large and full sweet water, lie in the centre of the \; of them is ( ll property of the tribe - the western belongs to the Harb, the eastem to the Mutayr. he ground around them is as bald as the palm of one's hand, for ev~ry day around noon hun dreds of camels and sheep are driven in from distant pastures to watered here, and every little blade ofgrass wblch grows out of the soil is nibbled away before it even take breath. As we iv, the valley is fu of animals, and ever-ncw and herds appear from between the sun-drenched hs. Around the wells there js great crowding and commotioD, for it is not an easy thing to satjsfy the thiFS1 of so animals. he herds IN
AFERNOON

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221

draw the water in leather buckets 10ng , panying their work with chant to keep the multiple movements : for thebuckets big and, when filled with water, SO heavy that hands needed to draw them out the depth. From the weJl nearest us - the that belongs to the Mutayr tribe - 1 the chant to tl1e camels:

Drink, spare 110 Ivoter,

Ivell is /ll / grace ond

110!

Half the sing the first verse and the others the second, repeating both several times in quick until the bucket pears the rim the well; then the women take and the water into leathem troughs. Scores camels press for \vard, bellowing and snorting, quivering with excitement, crowd ing around the trough~, not visibIy pacified the men's sooth ing calls, Hu-oih ... '[-z! and another pushes it5 long, neck forward, bet\veen its companions, 50 as to still its thirstas quickly as possible; there is rocking and ing, swaying and thronging of light-brown and dark-brown, yeJlow-whit and black-brown and honey-coloured bodies, and the sharp, acrid smeJl animal sweat and urine fills the air. In the meantime, the bucket has filled again, and the herds draw it to the quick another couplet: Nouglzt stil/ the ' t!lirst God's grace ond tlze 'zerdsmol1's toil! - and the spectacle of rushing water, drinking and slurping and calling~nd chanting starts l1 again. old standing the rim the wel1 raises his nn in direction and calls out: ' God give life, \\'ayfarers! Partake bounty!' - whereupon several other disentangle tl1el11selves the cro\vd around the wel1 and run to\vard us. of thcm takes hold dromedary's halter and i1akes it kneel do\vn, so that 1 dismount in comfort. Quickly way is made ni mals to the trough, and the women pour out \'/ater for them: for \ tra\'elle~s and therefore have prior claim. 'Is-it not wonderful to behold,' muses zayd, 'how well these

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Harb and Mutayr keeping their now, 50 soon after they warring against other?' ( it is l three in tl1e Mutayr were in lli against the i, whil~ the ",' m his fithful supporters.) 'Dost thou mm, uncle, the last lime we were ? How we passed Arja in wide circle at night, not daring the wells - not knowing \"'hcthcr friend was here ... Zayd is refering to thc grcat bcduin of 1928-1929 thc culmination of Jitild wmch shook Ibn Saud's kingdom to it5 foundations and, , involved myselfin it.
WHEN CURTAIN ROSE in 1927, was reigning in tbe vast realm of Saudi . i Ibn Saud'5 struggle power \vas over. His rulc in Najd was 10nger rival dynsaty. His ', and the Shammar country, and l1is, too, wa5 tbe Hijaz after he had ousted the Sharifian dynasty in 1925. OutstaQding among the ing's ",'arriors was that same doutabIe beduin chicftain, Faysal ad-Dawish; who had caused m so much worry in li years. Ad-Dawish had distin guished hintself in the King'5 service andproved loyalty time and time again: in 1921 he conquered [ the ing; in 1924 he led daring raid into Iraq, wbere the Sharifian lll, the British, intrigued against Ibn Saud; in 1925 took Medina and played decisive in the conquest Jidda. And now, in summer of 1927, he \vas resting his laurels in 5 Ikhl~'011 settlement of Artawiyya, not from the frontier of Iraq. For tl1at [ had the almost continuous beduin raids arising from tribal migrations jn search of pastures and water; but in series of agreements tween Ibn Slld aHd the British - who were responsible for Iraq as the Mandatory Power .- it had (lccided that obstacles should placed in the way of sl1ch necessary migrations, and that fortifications kind should erected ..-:ither side of tbe Najd-Iraq fti. [ the summer 1927, ho\vever, the Iraqi government built and garrisoned fort in ( vicinity of the frontier \ve!ls of isayya, and offi.cially ;:.~ud its inten tion to build other fortsalong the fontier. ripple ofuneasil1ess n through the tribes northern Najd. saw themselves

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tbreatened in thei!.very exist.eacc, a1t offfrOm the wells which they wcre etirl dependent. In Saud protested against this aggreements, l to receive - months later - answer from { British High Commissioner in Iraq. Faysa1 ad-Dawish, always of , toId himself: ! convenient for the King to start quarrel with the British - but 1 will dare it.' And in thelast days ofOctober, 1927, set out at the head of his IkJ1I110l1, attacked and destroyed the fort of isayya, giving quarter to its Iraqi garrison. British aeroplanes appeared . the , reconnoitred the situation and withdrew - against their habit - without dropping single . It would been easy for them to l the raid ( aetion to which they were entitled virtue of their treaties with Ibn Saud) and then to settle the of the forts diplo matic negotiations. But was the British-Iraqi government reaHy interested in speedy, peaceful settlement of the dispute? Deputations from the nothern Najdi tribes appeared before Ibn Saud and pleaded for campaign against Iraq. Ibn Saud energetically refused such , declared Ad-Dawish transgressor, and ordered the amir of HaI1 to keep close watch over the [ regions. financial aHowances which the ing was giving to rnost of the IkJl\van were ternporarily cut off from the tribes under Ad-Dawish's control; and himseIf was bidden to remain at Artawiyya and there await the ing's judg ment. he lraqi government was officially infohned of these measures and notified that Ad-Dawish would punished severely. At the sarne , however, Ibn Saud demanded that in the future the frontier treaties strictly observed Iraq. llis new conflict could thus easily ironed out. ! when matters had reached this point, the Bcitish High Commis sioner let Ibn Saud kow that was sending out air squad to chastise Ad-Dawish's Ik/lIvan (who had 10ng since turned to their territory) and to '[ them to obedience toward /heir g'. Since ! { timc thcre was Dotelegraph at Riyadh, Ibn Saud sent posthaste courier to Bahrain, [ \ telegram was dispatched 10 Baghdad, pro1esting again~t the proposed measure and invoking the treaties which forbade either party to pursue lawbreakers across the frontier. strcs sed that had need of British 'assistallce' in enforcing 11:S authority over Ad-Dawish; and, final1y, warned that British

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air action Najdi territory would dangerous repcrcus sions among the Ikhwan, who were a1ready.sufficiently stied . 1he warnmg remained unheeded. Toward the end ofJanuary, 1928 - three th after the Bisayyaincident - aBritish squad.. flew across the frontier and bombed Najdj territory, wreak ing among Mutayri beduin encampments and indis criminately killing , women, children and cattle. the northem /k/IK'On to for campaign of vengeance against Iraq; and it was on1ythanks to Ibn Saud's great prestige among the tribes that the movement was stopped in time and nfin to few minor frontier skirmishes. In tbe , the destroyed fort of Bisayya was quietly built bythe British and two new forts were erected the Iraqi side of the .
FSL AD-DAWISH, summoned to Riyadh, refused to and justify action which, in his ini, had been undertaken in the ing's own interest. Personal resentment added to his bitterness. , Faysal ad-Dawish, who had served the ing 50 faithfully and 50 well. was on1y: of rt \, in spite of the large number of its inhabitants. was more than overgrown village. His leadership had deci sivein { conquest ofHaU - ! the ing's cousin, Ibn Mussaad, and not , had appointed ;, of . During the Hijaz

it was , Ad-Dawish, who besieged Medina for months and finally forced its surrender - but not had made its , is passionate, frustrated urge for power gave i rest. saidto himself: 'Ibn Saud belongs to the tribe of Anaz and 1 to the tribe of Mutayr. We are equal to another in the nobility of our descent. Why should / admit to Ibn Saud's superiority l' Such reasoning has always en the curse of Arabian history: will admit that another is better than . one, other dissatisfied /k/rn chieftains began to for get how they owed to Ibn Saud. Among them was Sultl1 ibn Bujad, shaykh of the powerful Atayba tribe and oinfr of Ghatghat. of the largest Ik/IJVOn settlements in Najd: victor of the l of in 1918 against the forces of Sharif yn; ebnqueror of T&If and in 1924. Why had to

cmign

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contentwith being than : of Ghatghat ? Why bad nothe, but of the ing's , made : of ? Why not at least appointed ' of Taif? , 1ike Faysal ad-Dawish, saw himself cheated ofwhat heconsidered bls due; and since was Ad-Dawish's brother-in-Jaw, it l 10gica! for thc two to make cause against l Saud. l the 1928, l Saud called acongress ofcbleftains to \vith view to soIving 11 these disputes. Almost 11 triballeaders except Ibn Bujad Ad-Dawish. Adamant in their opposition, they declared Ibn Saud aheretic [ had not made treaties with the infideJs introduced into the lands the Arabs such instruments of the deviJ as , telephones, wireless sets and aeroplanes? as sembIed Riyadh unanimously declared that such technical in novations were not only permissible but most desirabIe [ the . religious point of view since they increased the knowledgeand strength : the uslims; and that,on the authority of the phet of Islam, treaties with - uslim powers were equalJy sirable if they brought freedom to Muslims. But the two rebe1liouscbleftains continued their denunciations and found ready of the simple lkhwo/l, who did not possess sufficient knowledge to anything but the in fluence of Satan in Ibn Saud's actions. His failure to education to the lkhlvon and turn their religious fervour to positiveends to bear its tragic fruit ... he steppes of Najd were now humming like \'. Mysterious emissaries rode fast dromedaries [ tribe to tribe. CJandestine meetings of cbleftains took ! at remote we11s. d, finally, the agitation against the i burst out in revolt, drawing in other tribes besides the Mutayr and Atayba. he ing was patient. tried to understanding. sent :nessengers to the recaIcitrant tribaJ leaders and tried to reason with them: but in vain. Central and northern the scene of widespread guerilla warfare; the almost verbial public security of the country vanished and complete chaos reigned in Najd; bands of rebellkhlvan swept across it in 11 directions, attac!dng villages and caravans and tribes that had remained Ioyal to the King. After innumerabIe 10l skirmishes between rebel and 10I

22

tribes, decisive batt1e was fugJtt'tth plain ofSibila, in tral Najd, in the spring ! 1929.Orrone side was the i with large force; the other, tlie N1utayrand'the , supported Cactions from other tribes. h.ng was vietorious. Ibn Bu jad surrendered unconditionally , was: brought in chains to d. Ad-Dawish was severelywoundedandsaid to dying. Ibn Saud, mHdest Arabiankings, sent bls personal physi cian to attend him - and thatdoctor,.a young Syrian, diagnosed serious injury to the liver, giving Ad-DwiSh week to li; whereupon the ing decided: 'We shallletblm die in ; received his punishment from God.' ordered that the wounded brought back to.hisfamily 4t Artawiyya. But Ad-Dawish was far fiom <,tying.is injury was not nearly as serious as the young doctor had assumed; and within few weeks was sufficientlyrecovered toslip away from Artawiyya, than ever bent revenge.
AD-DWIS's ESCAPE [ gave new i petus to the rebeUion. It was rumoured that mself was somewhere in the vicinity ! the Kuwayt frontier recruiting new tribal aI1ies to bls wn, still considerabIe. force ! Mutayr. the first to join him \vere the Ajman, small but valiant tribe living in the province ! AI-Hasa near the Persian Gulf; their shaykh. Ibn Had.hlayn, was Faysal ad-Dawish's maternal uncle. Apart from this, there was 10ve [ between lbn Saud and the Ajman. Years they had slain the ing's younger brother Saad and, fearing bls revenge, had migrated to Kuwayt. Subsequently Ibn Saud had forgiven them and wd them to return to their aneestral territory, but the old resentment tinued to rankle. It fiared up into enmity when, during gotiations for settlement, the Ajman tain and several ! his followers were treacherously murdered in the ! Ibn Saud's relative, theeldest son of the am;r of Al-Hasa. he ! the Ajman with the Mutayr kindled new spark among the Atayba tribes in central NaJd. After the capture of their am;r, Ibn Bujad, they had reassembled under new chieftain; and now they rose gain against the ing. forc in him to divert most of his strength f northem to central Najd. he fight was hard. but slowly Ibn Saud got the upper

221 .hand. Group after group. heoverwhelmed the until. in 1he.cnd,they offered to sueder. Ln avillage half way between Riyadhand their sltaykhsp1ed:ged fealty to the g and ithe "King again forgave tbem. hoping that at last would { hand against Ad-Dawi:sh andtherestof { rebels in the l1o1h. But hardly had returned to iRiyadh whenthe brdke:their pledge for the secondtime and renewed their war fare.Now itwas fight { the fi.nish. For third timethe were defeated and almost decimated - and with the complete dstmtr.t ,af the /kllltJQ/Z settlement Gbatgha~ town larger than Riyadh,.the ing's authority was re-establisbedin centraJ Najd. MeanwJe, the struggle in tbe north continued. Faysa:Iad Dawish and his allies werenow solidJy entrenched in the vicinity of tlle border. Ibn , the m; af , attaeked them and time gi 1 bebalf of the ing. T,vice it was reported that Ad-Dawisb had kiHed; and botb times the tidinp provcd false. lived , stubbornly and uncompromisingly. is eldest son and seven bundred of his warriors feH in battle; but he fought . The question cropped : Feom where does Ad Dawish receive the whic~ in i is necessary waging war? From where his arms and ni? Vague reports current that the rebel, onee 50 bitterly critical fI Saud's treaty relations witb the 'infidels', was now himself treating with the Britis.h. Rumour bad it that was frequent visitor in Kuwayt: cou1d doing this, p~()ple asked themselves, without the. knowledge of the British authorities? Was it not pos~ible, , that turmoil in the lands Saud suited their own purpose nl too w?
ONE EVENING IN RIYADH, in the summcr of 1929, 1 had gone to bed early al1d, before fg asleep, was diverting myself with old book thedYl1asties ofOman when Zayd abruptly into room: . 'hcre is from the SIIUyukh. wantsto see tbee at .' 1 burriedly dressed and went to the ~stle. Ibn Saud was await ing in his private apartments, sitting cross-legged divan with heaps ! Arabic newspapers aroundhim and from
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ID .

van. ;while looked , g1an<:ed ! the slave was tng the door and indicated with ! hand tbat wished ( left alone with . As soon ( slave had closed the door bebindhim. ( ing Iaid do\vn { newspaper and 100ked ! for while (rom behind bis glittering glasses. as if had ! seen for long time (altbough 1 had spent some hs with (! very morning). ' with writing?' No. Long-of-Age. 1 ! written anything ( weeks.' " were interesting articles thou s! \vritten about our frontier problems with Iraq: was evidently fig ( series of dispatches 1 had written for Continental newspapers about two months lier; of them had also in newspaper in Cir where. 1 flatter myself, they helped to clarify very involved situation. Knowing ( ing. 1was certain that was ! speak ing at random but had something definite in mind; and 50 1 mained silent, waiting for him to contin.ue. did continue: 'Perhaps thou wouldst like to write something about what is happening in Najd - this rebellion and what it .' There was trace passion in his voice as \Vent : ' Sbarifian farnily hates . hose sons ofHusayn who now rule in Iraq and Transjordan will always bate , for they forget that I have taken the Hijaz (. would likemy realm to break up, then they could return to the Hijaz ... and their friends, \ pretend ( friends as well, rnight ! dislike it either ... did ! il those forts Cor nothing: they Itltd to cause troubte and to push away from their frontiers .. .' From behind Ibn Saud's \vords 1 couJd hear jumbJed, ghostly sounds - the.ro\ling ru!:ltingof railroad trains \vhich, though st imaginary, might easily 1 tomorrow: the spectre of British railroad running from Haifa to Basra. Rumours of such aplan had rampant for years. It was well known that ( British were concerned about securing ( 'Jand route to In dia': and this. indeed, \vas themeaning of their mandates ovet Palestine, Transjordan Iraq. railroad from the Mediter : ( the Persian Gulfwould ! only form new, valuable

cairo in his hands. nsw greeting briefly and, with out iteutig bis reading, motione.d ( bis side ( di

who

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nk in Britain~s imperial communications but would also affO'rd greater protection to the oil pipeline that was to laid from lraq across the Syrian Desert to Haifa. the other hand, direct rail between Haifa and Basra would to cut across Ibn Saud's northeastern provinces - and the King would nevcr even entertain such suggestion. Was it not sible that the building of forts along the Iraq-Najd frontier. in fiagrant contravention the existing agreements, represented the first stage of careful1o'J devised scheme to bring about enough disturbance within this critical area to 'justify' the estab lishment of small, semi-independent buffer state to the British? Faysal ad-Dawish could serve this purpose as weH' as, perhaps better than, member of th~ Shari family,Tor was Najdi himself and had strong foHow ing among the Ikh,vaJl. That his alleged religious fanaticism \s nl 'mask was obvious to anyone acquainted with his past; what reaHy wanted was power . There was ' doubt that, left to himself, could not haveheld out for so long against Ibn Saud. But - had he been left to himself? After 10ngpause, the ing continued: '1 been thinking, as has, about the supplies arms and mmuiti that Ad-Dawish seems to at his disposal. has plenty ot' them - and plenty of moncy, too, ithas been reported to . 1 wonder whether thou wouldst not like to write about thesc things - 1 m, those mysterious sources Ad-Dawish's sup plieS.I have own suspicions about them; perhaps even than slispicions - but 1 would like thee to find out for thyself thou canst, for 1 wrong.' So that was it. Although the ing spoke almost casually, in conversational tone, it was obvious that he had weighed word before uttered it. 1 100ked hard at . His face,.so grave momentbefore, brClke into broad smile. placed his hand knee and shook it: '1 want thee, son, to find out thyself ~ 1 rcpcat: ( thyself - from where Ad-Dawish is getting his rifles, his ammuni tion and t.he is throwing about so lavishty. is, hardJy any doubt in own mind, but 1 wish that someone k thee, \ is ! directJy involved, would tell the world the crooked truth (! Ad-Da\vish's rcbcllion ... 1 think thou ' wilt to find out the Lrut}-,."

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I Saud knew what was doing. has always Icnown that Ilove . Although 1oftcn disagree with his policies, and never make secret of mydisagreement, has never withheld his fidence from and often asks advice. trusts all the , 1 believe, because is weU aware that 1do not expect ! i from and would not even accept post in his government, for 1 want to remain free. And 50, that able evening in the summer 1929, calmly suggested to that 1 should out and explore the web political intrigue hind the Ikl'n rebellion - mission which probably entailed personal risk and certainly could accomplished only at the of strenuous e~ But the SI1Uyukh was not disappointed in reactions. Apart from alfection for and bls country, the task wblch now entrusted to seemed ( promise exciting adventure, not to speak possibIe jOllrnaJistic '', 'Over eyes and head thy command, Long-of ,' 1 immediately replied."[ shall certainly do what 1 .' 'Ofthat 1 doubt, Muhammad; and 1 thee ( keep tby mission secret. There danger in it - what about thy wife?' wife was girl from Riyadh whom 1 had married the vious year; but 1 was able to assure the g this point: 'Sbe will ! cry, Imam; it was only today that 1 was think ing divorcing her. We do not seem to 5uit .' Ibn Saud smiled knowingly, -divorcing wife was thing not unfamiliar to . ' what about other people - ( ns folk?' ' is , 1 believe, ,vho would mourn shollld anything to - , course, Zayd; but w in any se, and the things that befall wi1l ll him as well.' . 'That is ( the .' replied the i. 'And. oh, before 1 forget: tholl wilt require some funds for { undertaking' - and slipping s hand under the cushion behil1d , drew out purse and thrust if into hand; from its ,veight 1 immediateJy guessed that it wa.c; filJed \vith golden sovereigns. 1 remember thinking ~o myself: , certain must have been, even before 11 asked , that 1 would accept his suggestion ... !

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IN , I called zayd. who had been awaiting retum. 'If 1should aSk thee, zayd, to enterprise that might prove dangerous - wouldst thou go with Zayd replied: 'Dost thou think, uncle, that 1 would ~t thee go alone, whatever the danger1 where we going?' 'We are going { findout from \vhere Ad-Da\vish is getting his and his . But the ing insists that should know what we doing until it has done; so thou mtlst guard.' Zayd did not bother to reassure , but turned instead to the more practical question: 'We can't weB ask Ad-Da....ish his ; how then do _ we set about it way back from the castle 1 had ruminating over this problem. It appeared to that the best starting point would of the cities of central Najd, where there were merchants who had intimate connections with Iraq and Kuwayt. Finally 1 settled Sllaqra, the capital of tbe in of Washm, about three days' journey from Riyadh, where friend Abd ar-Rahrnan as-Siba'i might to ] . fol1owing day was occupied with preparations for our pedition. As 1 did not want to attract too uh attention to movements, 1 cautioned Zayd not to draw provisions, as was customary with us, from the ing's . ! ( purchase everything we needed from the bazaar. evening Zayd had lected the necessary assortment of foodstuffs: aboutt\venty pounds of rice, the amount of flour for bread, small skin containing c]arified butter, date5, coffee ! . had also bought two new waterskin5, leather bucket and goat-h1 rope long enough for very deep wells. We were a]ready well pro vided with arm5 and ammunition. 1nto our saddJebags we stuf fed two changes of clothing per 1;!ld each of us wore heavy which, together with the blankets over our saddles, would serve as covering ] nigbts. dromedaries, which had spent several weeks 1 pasture, were in excel1ent condition; the 1 had recentIy given to Zayd was an extremcly fleet Omani racer, whi1e 1 rode the beautifu] old 'tr' thoro'Jgh bred which had belonged to the '5! Rashidi c7!11ir of Hai'1 and had presented to Ibn Saud.

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Mter nigbtfall we rode oUt Riyadh. dawn we reached Wadi Hanifa, deep, barren river bed between steep hills - the site of the decisive battle fought oYet thirtten hundred years ago between the Muslim forces ! Abu Bakr, the Prophet's successor ! Ii of IsIam, those of the <faIse prophet', Mu saylima; who for years had opposed the Muslims. he battle signalIed the I victory ofIsIam in CentraI r. of the ginaI Cornpanions of the Prophet f in it, and their graves are visible to this day the rocky sIopes of the wadi. During the forenoon we passed the ruined of yn, Iarge, populous settlement, stretching along both ballks ofWadi Hanifa. etween rows oftarnarisks Iay the remnants of the past: broken-down house waI1s, with the crumbIing pilIars of mosque or the ruin of palatiaI building rising here and there, aII of them speaking of higher, more gracious style of architec ture than that of the simple mud buildings sees in present day Najd. lt is said that until about hundred and fifty or two hundred years ago, the entire course of Wadi nif from Dar'iyya (the ginI capitaI of the l Saud dynasty) to - distance of over fifteen miles - was singIe city; and that when son was to the amir of Dar'iyya, the news of his , passed along from rooftop to rooftop the women, traveIled within minutes to the utmost end of , he story ofAyayna's decay is so clouded Iegends that it is difficult to dis rn the historicaI facts. Most probably the. town was destroyed , the first Saudi ruler when it refused to ! the teachings of Muhammad ibn Abd aI-Wahh; but Wahhabi Iegend has it that, as sign ofGod's wrath, aII the weI1s of yn dried up in singIe night, forcingthe inhabitants to abandon the city. , At of the third day we sighted the mud waIls and bas tions of Shaqra and the blgh palms wblch towered its houses. We rode between empty orchards and through empty streets; and nI then we remembered that it was Friday and that must at the mosque. Offand we encountered woman cloaked from head to too in bIack ; she would start &t the sight of the strangers and draw her veil across her face with &quick, shymovement. r and there chi1dren played in the shadow of the houses; soHd warmth was brooding over the cro\VI1S of the pa1ms. We went straight to the house of 'od frieod Abd

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Rahman as-Siba'i, who at that time was in charge the bayt al mal, treasury, of the province. We dismounted before the n gate and Zayd called into the courtyard, waladf -'0 !' - and as servant running out the house, Zayd announced: 'Guests !' While Zayd and the busied themselves with usd:ng the dromedaries in the courtyard, 1 made myself at in ar-Rahman's qaJlwa, where another servant immediately lit fire under the brass pots the coffee hearth. Hardly had 1 drunk the first sip when voices m audible from the yard - questions and answers rang out: the master of the house had retumed. Already from the staircase,. still invisible,' shouted his greetiRg of welcome to , and (n appeared in the doorway with arms: delicate little with short,light brown beard and pair of deep-set, humorous eyes in smiling . l spite ofthe heat wore 10ng under hls . his coat was n of his most treasured possessions. never tired of telling everyone who was not already aware ofits history that it had belonged to the former IGng of the ijaz, SharifHusayn, and had fallen into , Abd ar-Rahrnan's, hands at the conquest of in 1924. 1 cannot ever hvig seen hi without that coat. embraced warmly and, standing his toes, kissed both cheeks: &n wasablan wa-marhaba! Welcome to this lowly house, brother. Lucky is the that brings (
!'

And then the usual questions: Whence, and whereto, and how is the IGng, and was there rain the way - didst tbou at least of rains? - the whole traditional exchange rian news. 1 told him that n, in l Najd, was destination - wblch was not quite true ! cou1d wel1 . l ear1ier years arRahman had engaged in exten sive trade between Najd and Iraq :l was thoroughly familiar with both Basra and Kuwayt. It was not difficult to get him to ta1k of those places and ( sound out about. l who might recently arrived from there (for it seemed to that with Faysal ad-Dawish being reported so near the border of wayt, either that place Basra might furnish some indication as to his source of supp1ies).1 leamed that the well known AI-Bassam family of n - n old acquaintance of

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mine - had recently visited Kuwayt the way back from as (, and, not wanting ( expose himself to the hazards jour through rebel-infested territory. had returned via ahri to Najd. was in Shaqra at , and if 1 wanted, Abd Rahman would send for ir: for, in accordance with ancient Arabian custom, it is for the new arrival ( visitedrather than to visits. Soon afterward, Abdullah al-Bassam joined us in Abd ar-Rahman's :ql. Abdullah, although belonging to perhaps the most important family of businessmen in ll Najd, was not himself . His had full of ups and downs - mostly downs - not only in Najd also in Cairo, Baghdad, Basra, Ku wayt, and . knew everybody who was body in those places, and carried in his shrewd head store of formation about everything tbat was going in .'\rab countries. 1 told m that 1 had asked business firm to explore the possibilities of importing agricultural hin into ,! and Basra; and since 1 had been offered fat commis sion ( firm, 1 was anxious to find out which of the local. merchants in those two towns were likely ( entertain such position. AI-Bassam mentioned several , and then added: '1 sure that of the Kuwayti people will interested in thy project. hey are always importing tngs from abroad, and nowadays trade seems to quite lively - 50 lively that large consignments of silver riyals arriving almost day directly from ( mint at Trieste.' The mention of the silver riyals g 1 jolt. hi particular . kind of riyal, ( Maria Theresa thaler, constituted. side side with the official Arabian currencies, the chief commercial coin of the entire nisul. It was minted at Trieste and sold ! its silver ",l, plus small minting charge to the governments and also to few outstanding merchants with large trade interests among the beduitis; for the beduins were averse to accepting paper and took on1y goid or silver -prefer ably Maria heresa thalers. Large imports ofthese ins Ku wayti traders to indicate that brjsk business was going ( and beduins. 'Why.' 1 asked' AI-Ba,5~am. 'should Kuwayti merchants im n riyals just no\v?' '1 do not kno\v,' he rep ied. \vith trace of perplexity in his

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. 'hey talk buying meat-camels from beduins Ku wayt sale in lraq. where the ! blgh nowadays; though 1 do not quite see how they to find camels in the steppes Kuwayt in these disturbed tirnes ... 1 should rather tnk,' added with Iaugh, 'that it would profitabIe to buy riding-camels in Iraq and to sell them to Ad Dawish and his - , course, Ad-Dawish wouId not have the to for them .. .' Would , indeed? hat night, before going to bed in the room assigned to us our host, 1 drew zayd into and told : 'We are going to Kuwayt.' 'It will not easy, uncle,' replied zayd; but the gleam in his eyes spoke eloquently than his words his readiness to embark something that was not only noteasy but extremeIy dangerous. It would, course, child's play to travel across territory controlled forces and tribes loyal to the ing; but for at least hundred miles so before reacblng the borders Kuwayt we wouId entirely our own in the midst hos tile territory through wblch the rebellious Mutayr and Ajman tribesmen were roaming. We could, course, travel to Kuwayt sea via Bahrain, but that would require permit from the British authorities and thus our movements to the closest scrutiny. he same objection would apply to travelling via AI-Jawf and thc Syrian Desert into Iraq, and thence to wayt; for it would too optimistic to suppose that we could slip through the control points in Iraq. There remained, therefore, nothing but the direct overland route to Kuwayt. How { penetrate undetected into the town itseJf was question that could not easily answered at present; and so we left it to the future, trusting in our luck and hoping for unforeseen oppor tunities. Abd ar-Rahman as-Siba'i wanted to stay with i for some days, but when 1 pJeaded urgent business, let us go { next morning, after augmenting our food supply quantity of dried camel-meat - de1icious addition to { rath~r monoton ous fare ahead of us. aJso insisted that 1 should visit him returnjourney, to which, in truth, 1 could only ans\ver, 1115110 Allall - 'God \villing.' .

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SHAQRA WE TRAVELLED Cor Cour days toward north east without encountering ythin unusual. occasion we were stopped detachment loyal Awazim beduins who Conned part Qf Amir Ibn Musaad's Corces; but letter Crom the King itnditl put them ! rest and, after the customary desert tidings, we continued our way. BeCore dawn th~ fiftb day we approached region over wblch Ibn Saud's nn longer extended. From now day travel was out of the question; our on1y saCety ! in darkness and stealth. We made in vt g not far from the in course the great Wadi ar-Rumma, ancient, dry river bed tbat runs across northem Arabia toward the head ofthe Persian Gulf. he guUey was thickly overhung with arfaj bushes, wblch woulc1 afford us some cover as long as we kept close to the al most vertical bank. We hobbled our camels securely, fedthem mixture coarse barley flour and date kemels - thus obviating the necessity ofletting them out to pasture - and settled" down to await the nightfaU. We did not dare light fire, for in day ti its smokemight us; and 50 we had to content selves with meal dates and water. How sound our precautions were m evident in the late temoon, when the strains beduin riding-chant suddenly struck our , We took hold our ' muzzles to prevent them from snorting or bellowing, and pressed ourselves, r in hand, flat against the protecting waU the gul1ey. h'e chanting grew louder asthe unknown riders approached; we could already discem the words, La ilaha i/J'll, l ilaha ill'A-l1h - 'bere is God but God, bere is God but God' - the usua11kh.'n substitute Cor the more worldy travel chants 'unreCormed' beduins. bere was doubt tbat these were Ikhwan, and in this they could on1y hostile lkhwan. After while they appeared over the crest hillock, just above the nk the gulley - group eight or ten camel..riders slowly advancing in single file, sharply outlined against the aftemoon sky, oCthem wearing the white lkhl'lan turban over his red and-wblte-checked kufiyya, two bandoliers across the chest and rifle slung the saddle-peg behind him: sombre and for bidding cavalcade, swaying forward and backward, forward and backward, in rhythm with the gait the dromedaries and the

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great but now so misused words, i/aha i//'A//ah .. he sight was impressive and ! { time pathetic. hese were { whom thpir faith obviously { anything else in ; { thought { were fighting for its purity and for { greater glory of God, ! knowing {! their fervour and their longing had hamessed { the ambitions ! an unscru pulous leader in quest of personal power ... were { 'right' side of { gulley as far as we were concerned: for had riding the opposite side, they would seen us as plainly as we could now see them from beneath the protective overhang of { bushes. When, with the lilt of { their lips, they disappeared from view down the 1l, we sighed with relief. 'hey like jinns,' wspered Z;iyd. 'Yes, like the jinns who know neitherjoy oflife norfear ofdeath ... hey are braveand strong in faith, deny that - but they dream about is and death and Paradise ...' , as if in defiance of { lkllwan's gloomy puritanism, began to sing, , worldly Syrian love song: '0 { maiden of golden-brown flesh .. .' As soon as it was quite dark, we resumed our surreptitious march in the direction of distant Kuwayt. Zayd suddenly exclaimed. fire!' It was too small for beduin encamprnent; lonely herdsman, perhaps? But wbat herdsman would dare light fire here unless were the rebels? Still, it would better to nd , If it was only , we could easily take care of hirn an also, possibIy, gather some precious infonnation about enemy movements in the area. he soil was sandy and the feet our camels made almost nojse as we cautiously approached the fire. In its light we could now make o\1t the crouching figure of solitary. beduin. seemed to peering into the darkness in our direction, and then as if satisfied with what had seen, rose without hurry, crossed llis lS his chest - perhaps to indicate that was unarmed - and calmly, without the least appearance fright, awaited our coming.
'

'LOOK , UNCLE!'

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"Who art thou Zayd called out sharply. his rifle pointed at the ragged stranger. beduin smiled slowly and answeted in , sonorous voice: "1 Sulubbi .... reason for his calm now obvious. strange. gypsy-Jike tribe (or rather group ftri) to which belonged had never taken part mArabia's almost unceasing in war fare; enemies to , they were attacked . Sulubba (sing., Sulubbi) have to this day enigrna to explorers. Nobody reaHy knows their origin. Tbat they not is certain: their eyes and light-brown hair belie their sunbumed skins and memory of northem regions. ancient Arab historian.; teH us that tbey descen dants of crusaders who had taken prisoner Saladin and brought to Arabia, where they later Muslims; and, in deed, the Sulubba has the same root as the word sa/ib, that is, 'cross', and salibi, whicb means ''. Whether this planation is correct is difficult to , In case, the beduins regard the Sulubba as non-Arabs and treat them with something like tolerant contempt. explain this contempt, wblch trasts sharply with the Arab's otherwise so pronounced sense of equality, asserting that these people are ! conviction and do not Iive Iike Mus1ims. point out that the Sulubba do not , but 'promiscuous Iikc do~'" without consideration even of close blood relationship, andtat they eat carrion, which Muslims consider unclean. But this [ rationalization. 1 rather inclined to think that it was the awareness of the Sulubba's racial strange ness that caused the ' race-conscious beduin to draw magic circle of contempt around them - instinctive defence against blood mixture, which 1ust have very tempting in the case of the Sulubba: [ they , almost without exception, beautiful people. taHer than O1ost of the Arabs and of great regu]arity of features; the wo01en, especially, are very lovely, fulJ of elusive grace of body and movement. But \vhatever the cause, the beduin's contempt for the Sulub has made their life secure: for who attacks or harms them is deemed bls kinsfolk to have forfeited his bonour. Apart from this, the Su1ubba highly esteemed ll desert dweHers as vete .inarians, saddle-makers. tinkers and smiths.

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beduin, though despising handicraft much to it blmse]f, is in need ofit, and ( SulJubba are there ( help in bls , They a]so efficient and, al1, unquestioned masters in the of hunting. beir ability ( read is ]egendary, and ( ] who compare with them in this respect the l beduins ( northern fringes of the Empty Quarter. Relieved at finding that our new acquaintance was Sulubbi, 1 told him frankly that we were Ibn Saud's - which was quite safe in view the respect which these people have for authority,- and requested ( tings his fire. hi done, we settled the ground for lengthy conversation. could not ( us much about the disposition of Ad Dawish's forces, 'for,' said, 'they always the move,like . jinns, never resting at place for long'. It transpired, however, that large of hostile lkhlvan happened to in immediate vicinity ~just now, although small parties were constantly crossing the desert in 11 directions. An idea suddenly struck : might wenot utilize the Sulubbi's instinct for hunting and pathfinding ( lead us to Kuwayt? 'st thou ever to Kuwayt 1 asked . Sulubbi laughed. ' times. 1 have sold gazeUe skins there and clarified butter and ! wool. Why, it is nl ten days since 1 retumed from there.' 'hen thou cou]dst guide us to Kuwayt? - 1 ean, guide us in such manner to avoid meeting lkhlvan way1' . For few moments the Sulubbi pondered over tills question; then replied hesitantly: '1 might, but it would dangerous for to becaught the {kl1lvan in thy company. 1 might, . though, but ... but it wou]d cost ( ]ot.' 'How much 1' 'Well .. .' - and 1 could discern ( tremor of greed in his voice ~ 'well, master, ifthou wouldst give me'one hundred riya/s, 1 might guide thee and thy friend to Kuwayt in such manner that but the birds of the sky would set eyes u.' One hundred riya/s was equivalent ( ten sovereigns - ridic uiously small sum considering what it would mean to ; but .the SuJubbi had probably never in his lif held cash in his hands.

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'1 shall give thee hundred r~va/s - twenty now and the rest after we Kuwayt.' prospective guide had obviously not expected his demand to so readily granted. Perhaps regrettcd that had ! set his price higher, , afterthought, added: 'But what about dromedary? IfI ride with { Kuwayt and then back, the beast w worn out entirely, and 1 have nl .. : Not wishing to prolong the negotiations, 1 promptly replied: '1 shall thy dromedary. shalt ride it to Kuwayt, and there 1 shall hand it to thee as gift - but thou must lead us as well: That was than could hoped . With great alac rity , disappeared into the darkness and reappeared after few minutes, leading old but beautifuI and obviously hardy animaI. Mter some haggling we settled hundred and fifty riya/s as its price, the understanding that 1 would him fifty now and the rest, together with his reward, in Kuwayt. zayd fetched purse filled with riya/s from of saddle bags and 1 started counting the coins into the Iap of the Sulubbi. From the depths of his bedraggled tunic drew out piece of cloth in which his was tied; and as started to add riya!s to his hoard, the glitter of new coin caught . 'Stop!' 1exclaimed, placing hand his. 'Let see that shining ! of thine.' With hesitant gesture, as if afraid of being robbed, the Sulubbi laid the gingerly the palm of hand. Itfelt sharp-edged, like new , but to make sure 1 Iit match and looked at it closely. It was indeed new Maria heresa thaler as new as if it hadjust left the mint. And when 1 held the match over the rest the Sulubbi's , 1 discovered five six coins of the same startling newness. 'Where didst thou get these riyals?' '1 them honestly, master, 1 swear ... 1 didnot steal them. Mutayri gave them to some weeks ago Kuwayt. bought new cameI-sddl ( because his was broken .. .' ' Mutayri? Art thou certain?' : '1 certain, master, and God k ifI speak lie ... was of Ad-Dawish's , of party that t -

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c::ently been fighting again$t thc ami, . It surely was not wron to Crom bim.Cor sadd1e .. ? 1 could not weU , and 1 am sure that the Shuyukh, God lengthen bis , will understand this . .' 1 reassured him. that the inB would not bear ma1ice to ward m, and bis anxiety8ubsidOO. questioning m Curther. 1 Cound that other Sulubba had receivOO such new riya/s from various parans Ad-Dawish in exchange for goods or small services ..
SULUBBIINDBED P&OVED himselfanoutstandingguide.

For three nights 100 us meandering across l terri tory, over pathless 8tretches which even zayd. who knew this well. had neverseen . he days werespent in hid in; the Sulubbi was past-masterat finding unsuspectOO places concealment. occasion 100 us 10 water hole wblch, told us, was unknown even to the beduins the region; its brackish, brown water assuagOO the thirst our came1s and en us to fi waterslcins. nl twicedid we see groups of Ikhwansin th" distance,but neither occasion werethey allow ed to see us. In the Corenoon of tbe fourth rni after our tin with the ~ulubbi, we within sight the town of Kuwayt. We did not it the southwest,as travellersfrom Najd would have done. but ( the west, along the road from asra, &0 that anyone who met us would think. we were lraqi traders. On in Kuwayt,we ade ourselves at in compound of merchant with whom zayd was acquaintOO Crom bis days in the Iraqi Constabulary. da, oppressive heat ! over the sandy streets and the es built sunbaked mud bricks; and, accustomed to the steppes Najd, I"was 8 drenched with perspiration. But there was n rest. Leaving the Sulubbi in hr the - with the striet injunction ndt to mention to from where we had com - zayd and 1 proceedOO to the aza to ak pre1iminary investigations. Not bein Camiliar with Kuwayt myseif, and not whin to make zayd ~ore conspicuous presence, r remainOO for about an 10in cotree slLop. drinkin coffee and
Q

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smoking 1I!UiiJe. W!tenlayd. at Jastre-appeared. it waaobvioua f s triumphant expression that had found out son thing of irtan. 'Let us go ude. uncle. It is easier to talk in the ket place without being overheard. And here 1 brought something for thee -.andfor as weU' - and from under his produced two Iraqi iga/s thick, 100sely plaited brown wool. 'h will ak Iraqis us.' hrough discreet enquiries Zayd ascertained that former partn of his - hi old smuggling days in the Persian Gulf- was now living in Kuwayt, apparent1y still gaged' in his aceustomed trade. ' there is an who can te us something about gun-run ning in this town, it is Bandar. is Shammar like self of- those stubbom fools who could never fuUy reconcile themselves to Ibn Saud's rule. We must not let him knowthat we working for the Shuyukh - and, 1 think, not from where weha!e ; Cor andar is not really l. is cun ning man - indeed, has tricked too ften in the past that 1 should trust him. now.' We finally traeed the man to house in naw l close to the main bzaar. was-taJ.l and thin, perhaps Corty ycars ofage, with close-seteyesand , dyspepticexpression; but his fca tures lit in genuinepleasure when beheld Zayd. ecause of light s. 1 was introduced as Tutk who had settled in aghdad and had been engaged in exporting r horses f asra to . 'But it does not nowadays to bring horses to / addedZayd. 'hose merchants from Anayza and Burayda completely comered the market there.' '1 know,' repliedBandar. 'those dirty Southerners fI Saud are not content with having taken away our country; they are bent ta.king away our livelihood as well .. : 'But what about gun-running, Bandar l' asked Zayd. 'hee should 10t of business here, with all these Mutayr and Aj man desirous of twisting Ibn Saud's neck - heh l' 'hee was 10tof business,' replied Bandar, with shrug of his shoulders. 'Until few months ago 1 was making quite good buying rifies in Transjordan and selling them to the l of Ad-Dawish. But now that is finished, entirely fiDished. couldn't seJ single rifie now.'

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'How is that? 1 should think Ad-Dawish would neod them

tban ever before.' 'es,' retorted andar, '50 does. But gets them at price for wblch like thee could never afford to sen

gets them in cases, from overseas - English rifles, almost new and pays ten riya/s for rifle with two hundred rounds of uni.' _ 'Praise unto God!' exclaimed zayd in genuine astonish ment. ' riya/s for an almost new rifle with two hundred rounds: but that is impossible ... !' It really did seem impossible, for at that ti ed Lee-Enfield rifles'cost in Najd about thirty to thirty-five riya/s apiece, with out ununi; and if took into consideration that the prices at Kuwayt might lower than in Najd, the tremen dous difference was st unaccountable. andar smiled wryly. 'Well, it seems that Ad-Dawish has powerful friends. powerful friends ... Some say that one day hewill independent am;" in northem Najd. 'What thou sayest, ,' Iinterposed, 'is a1l wel1 and goOO. Perhaps Ad-Dawish will make himself independent of Ibn Saud. But has , and without even the great Alexander could not built kingdom.' andar broke loud guffaw: '? Ad-Dawish has plenty of that - plenty of new riya/s, which to in cases, like the rifles, from beyond the .' 'Cases riya/s? But that is very strange. From where could beduin tain cases new riya/s?' 'J;lat 1 do not know,' replied andar. 'But 1 do know that al most daily some of his are taking delivery ofnew riyals that rcaching them. through various merchants inthe city. Why, nl yesterday 1saw Farhan ibn ashhur at the port supervising the unloading such cases.' bis was indeed news. 1 knew.Farhan well.He was grand nephew of that CamousSyrian beduin prince, Nuri ash-Shaa1an, who had fought together with Lawrence agaiDst . 1 had first t young Farban in 1924 in Damascus, where was notorious forhis revels in al1 the doubt~ul places entertain ment. Some ti afterward fell out with his great-uncle, i gratedwith sub-section ofhistri1)e, the Ruwala, to Najd, where suddenly 'pious' and joined the Ikhwa Inovement. 1

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,met him again in 1927 in Ibn Musaad~s castle at Hai1. then had donned Ihe huge, wblte turban ofthe Jkhwan as symbolof his new-found faith, and was enjoying the bounty of the ing; when 1 reminded him of previous meetings in Damascus, __quicldy changed the subject. Stupid and as was, had seen in Ad"Dawish's revolt an opportunity to an in dependent amirate for himselfin A1-Jawf, oasis of the Great Nufud - for in Arabi~ as elsewhere, rebels follow the time-honouredpractice of divjdingthe Iion's skin before the lion has k.ilIed. "So Farhan is here in Kuwayt?' 1 asked andar. "Of , comes here as often as Ad-Dawish, and goes freely in and out ofthe shaykh's palace. he shaykh, they , has great liking for m: ' do not the British object to Ad-Dawish's and Farhan's coming to Kuwayt1 1 to rememberthat some th ago theyannounced that they would not alJow Ad-Dawish or his people to enter this territory . . . l' guffawed again. "So they did, so they did. But, 1 have told thee: Ad-Dawish has very powerful friends ... 1 am not sure whether is in townjust now; but Farhan is. goes evening to the Great Mosque for the maghrib prayer - thou canst see him there with t wn eyes if thou dost oot believe

.. .'

And see him wedid. When, taking andar's hint, Zd and 1 strolled in the ear)y evening in the vicinity of the Great Mosqu~ weabnost collidedwith group of beduins, unmistakably Najdi in bearing, who emerged from around street comer. At their head was in his middle thirties, somewhat shorter than the tal1 beduins who surrounded and followed him, his hand some face adomed short, bIack beard. 1 recognized him at . 1 do not know to this d whether recognized ; bls eyes met min for moment, swept over with puzzled pression, as if were trying to recall memory, and then turned away; and instant lat~r and his retinue were lost in the throng of peopIe moving toward the mosque. We decided not to extend our clandestinesojoum in Kuwayt undu1y waiting for opportunity to see Ad-Dawish as well. andar's reveIations were confirmed zayd's adroit enquiries fr other acquaintances in the town. Ad-Dawish's mysterious

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supplies Lee-Enfield ri6es - nl superficially disguised as 'purchases' - clearly pointed to Kuwayti merchant who had al ways been prominent as importer anns; ad the large amounts mint-new ari heresa riya/s that circulated in the bazaars Kuwayt were in almost every case traceable Ad Dawish and the men around hi. Short of seeing his actual , and examining the consignment papers - which was scarceIy within the realrn of likelihood - we had enough evidence to firm the suspicions the in had voiced during bls talk with . mission was completed; and in the following night we made way out Kuwayt as stealthily as we had . Dur in zayd's and investigationsin the azaars, our Sulubbi had found out that there were rebel groups at the moment to the south Kuwayt. And so to the south we went - in the direction Al-Hasa province, which was firm]y under the control the ing. After two strenuous night marches, we , not far from the coast, detachment oCBanuHajar beduins who had been sent out the amir of Al-Hasa to reconnoitre the latest posi tions of the rebels; and in their we re-entered 10yal territory. Once safely within Ibn Saud's realm, we parted from ' Su1ubbi guide who, contentedly pocketing his well-eamed reward, rode away toward the west the l 1 had 'presen ted' to him, while we continued southward in the direction of Riyadh.
SER.IES ARTICLES whi 1 subsequently wrote made it clear Corthe rs! ti th! the rebels were being supported great European power. hey pointed out that the basic aim

these intrigues was to push Ibn Saud's frontiers southward and, ultimately, to convert his northernmost province into 'inde pendent' principality between Saudi and Iraq, which would allow the rih to u railway line across its terri tory. prt f this, Ad-Dawish's rebellion offered we1come eans to ring about so Q}uch confusion in Ibn Saud's kingdam that hewou1d ~ in position to resist, as had hitherto done, Britain's dends Cor two important concessions: ofthem bein the leaSe of the Red Sea port of Rabigh, north Jidda, where the British had long wanted to establish naval base, 8I1d the other, ccntrol of that ~ector of the Damascus-Medina rail

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way which runs through Saudi territory. defeat of I Saud at the hands of Ad-Dawish would have brought these schemes welI thin the rea.lm of practical possibility. flash ofsensation followed the publication of articles in the European and (m.ainly Egyptian) press; and it well that the premature disclosure of that secret lnin contributed something to its subsequent frustration. At rate, the plan of British railway from if to Basra was allowed to lapse into oblivion in spite of the Jarge sums which appeared to have spent for preliminary surveys, and was never heard of again. What happened afterward is matter of history: that summer of 1929. Ibn Saud protested to the British against the freedom accorded Ad-Dawish to purcbase arms and ammuni at Kuwayt. Since had tangible 'proof' that these arms were in supplied foreign power, the in could protest nl against the saJesas such. he British authorities replied that it was the traders in Kuwayt who were supplying to the rebels - and that Britain could do thin to stop this. since in the treaty of Jidda of 1927 they had lifted their embargo the import to Arabia. If Ibn Saud wanted, they said. too oould import via Kuwayt ... When Ibn Saud obj~ed that the very same treaty obliged both Britain and Saudi Arabia ~ prevent in their territories all activities directed a~nst the security of the other , ht received the answer that Kuwayt crou!d not tenned 'British territory' ~t was indepen dent shaykhdom with which Britain had more than treaty re1ations ... And 50 the civil war continued. In the late autumn 1929. In Saud personal1y took the field. this ti determined to SIDe Ad-Dawish even into Kuwayt if- as had always been the casc in the ps! - that territory remained to the ls as n:fuge and basc Cor Curther operations. In the face of this deter mined attitude, which Ibn Saud took to communicate to tIhe British authorities. theyapparently realized that it would ::~ to psu their gamc further. ri aeroplancs and ured cars were sent out to prevent Ad-Dawish from retreat i again into Kuwayti territory.. he rebel realized that his was 105t; never would to withstand the ing in (a;Jen battlc; and 50 5tarted to negotiate. he ing's terms

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were crisp and clear: the rebel tribes mt 'urrender; their arms, rse and dromedaries would taken away from them.; Ad Dawish's would spared, btlt wou1d to spend the rest of 5 days in Riyadh. Ad-Dawish, always 50 active and fu ! movement, could not resign himself to inaction and immobility: refused the offer. Fighting last-ditch battle against the overwhebning forces of the King, the rebels were completely routed; Ad-Dawish and few other leaders _. among them Farhan ibn Mashhur aIld Naif ilab, cbleftain of the Ajman - Bed to Iraq. Ibn Saud demanded Ad-Da"ish's extradition. For ti it seemed that ing Faysal of Iraq wd refuse his dem!ind in.. voking the ancient Arabian law of hospitality and sanctury; but finally g in. Early in 1930, Ad-Dawish, seriously , was handed over to the ing and brought to Riyadh. When after few weeks it vi that tbls time was real1ydying, Ibn Saud, with his customary generosity, had-him brou~t back to his family at Artawiyya, where his stormy to end. And again reigned in the realm of Ibn Saud ...
ONCE AGAIN reigns around the wells of Atja. ' God give life, wayfarers! Partake of our bounty!' calls out the old Mutayri beduin, and his help us to water our.camels. All grudges and enmities ofthe so past seem

to forgotten, as if they had never , For the beduins strange : quick to fiare up in controllable passion at imaginary , andjust as quick to 5wing back to the steady rhythm of in which modesty and kindness prevail: always and Il in close proxirnity. And as they draw water for our camels in their huge leather buckets, the Mutayri hds chant in chorus:
Tlle

Dr;nk, ond spare \\'oter, 'll ;s [ll [ groce olld 110S

bottom ...

-3
ON FIFH NJGHT after our departure from Hail, we reach

the plain of Medina and see thh dark outline of ount U11ud.

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1 dromedaries move with tircd step; we have long ar hind , from early rnin, deep into this nigbt. Zayd and an silent, and 1 am silent In the moonlight the city before us with its crenellated wa11s d the slim, straight minarets

Prophet's q. We arrive before the g wblch, it north, is cal1ed the Syrian. he drmedaes shy before the shadows ! its bastions, and we haveto use can ( make them ter the gateway. Now 1 am gain in the City the Prophet, after 10ng wandering: for this city has for several years. deep, familiar quiet lies over its sleeping, empty streets. and there dog rises lazily before the feet of the camels. young walks singing; voice sways in soft rhythm and fades away in side-lane. balconies and ! windows of the houses hang black and silent over us. moon1it air is luke warm like fresh milk. And here is house. takes leave ( go ( some friends, while we two make' ( camels kneel down before the . Zayd hobblesthem with out word and begins ( unload the saddlebags. 1 knock at the door. Mter wle 1 voices and footsteps from within. shine lantem appears through the fanlight, the bolts drawn and old Sudanese maid servant, , exclaims joy fully: ', master has !'

the

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-1"' 1 sitting with friend in his garden just outside the gate of Medina. he multi tude of palm trunks '} the orchard weaves grey-green twilight into itr. background, making it endless. trees still young and low; sunlight dances over their trunks and the pointed of their fronds. hea green is somewhat dusty because of the sand-storms which occur almost dai1y at this ti of year. n1 the thick carpet of under the palms is of brilliant, faultless green. Not far in front of rise the city wa1ls, old, grey, built of stone and mud bricks, with bastions jutting forward here and there. From behind the wall tower the luxuriant palms of other garden in the interior of the city, and houses with weather browned window shutters and enclosed balconies; some of them have built into the city wall and have part of it. In the distance'1 see the fiveminarets of the Prophet's Mosque. high and tender li.ke the voices of f1.utes, the great green dome which vaults over and conceals the little house of the Prophet 8 while lived and his gr after died - and still farther, the city, the naked, rocky range of Mount Uhud: brown-red backdrop for the white minarets of the Holy Mosque, the crowns of the palms and the houses of the town. he sky, glaringly lighted the aftemoon sun, lies glass clear over opalescent clouds, and thecity is bathedin blue, gold- and green-8treaked li8ht. high wind plays around the 80ft clouds, wblch in Arabia 80 deceptive. Never you say here, ' Now it i8 cloudy; 8 it wil1rain ': for even the clouds mass heavily, as ifpregnant with stonn, it often happens that Toar of wind 8 8udden1y from out of the desert and sweeps them ; and the face8 of the people who have waiting for rain tum away in 8ilent resignation, and they mutter. 249

IS AFTERNOON.

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lbere is power aqd strength except in God - while the sky glares anew in light-blu~ c:lea,"t'ess without merey. 1 bld good-bye to friend td wa1k baek toward the outer city gate. passes dri",,:;;\s fi pair of donkeys loaded with luceme. himself riding third donkey.He lifts his staff in greeting and says, ' with ,' and 1 rcply with the same words. Then comes young beduin wnman. black trailing behind her and the lower of her face covered with veil. shining eyes so black that iris and pupil merge into ; and step has something of the hesitant. swinging tension of young steppe animals. 1enter the city and crossthe huge, square of AI-Manakha to the inner wall; beneath the heavy of the Egyptian Gate. under wblch the money-changers sit clinking their goId and siIver , 1 step into the main bazaar - street hardIy twelve feet across, tightly packed with shops around which smaIl but Hfe pulsates. he vendors praise their goods with cheerfuI songs. Gay head cIoths, silken shawls and robes of figured shir wool attraet the C'f the passerby. Silversmiths croueh behind small gIass cases containing beduin jeweIIery - arm-rings and ankle-rings, necklaces and rring. rfu vendors dispIay basins filled with , little red g with ti for colouring the Iashes, multicoloured bottles of oils and , and heaps of spices. Traders fr Najd seIling beduin garrnents and camel-saddles and long-tasselled red and blue saddlebags from eastem Arabia. An auctioneer runs through the street, shouting at the top of his voice, with Persian carpet and l-h over his shouIder and brass savr under his arrn. FIoods of people in both directions, l from edin and the rest of Arabla and - as the ti of the pilgrimage has ended oniy short while ago - from all the countries between the steppes of Senegal and those of the irgz, between the ast Indies and the Atlantic , between Astrakhan and zanzibar: but in spite of the mu]titude of peopIe and the narrowness of the street, there is hurried frenzy here. pushing and jostling: for in Medina time does not ride the wing of suit. But what might even more strange is that despite the great variety of hu types and costumes that fiIIs them, there is nothing of 'exotic' medley in the strects Medina: the
\

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/l prophets passedaway / him; if he dies is slain,

variety reveals itselCnl ( that is deter mined ( analyze. It ( tbat the l who in (bi city, or 50jOurn in it terari1, 50 Call into what might unity mood and thus also haviour and, almost, Cacia1 expression: Cor th Callen under the spel1oCthe Prophet, whose city it was and whose guests now are ... Even after thirteen centuries his spiritual presence is a1most as alive here it w then. It was nl him. that scattered group va! once called Yathrib city and has lovecl 11 lis down to this day as ) city an where else in the world has ever 10ved. It has not even its own: Cor more tban thirteen hundred years it has ca1led Madinat an-, ' City Prophet'. For t11an thirteen hundred years, so mucb 1 has converged here that 11 shapes and movements abquired kind amil esean,,and l1 differences ran d tona1 transition into common harmony. his is the ines one always Ceels here - thi5 unifying har . AJthough liCe in Medina (oda has only Cormal, distant relationsblp what Prophet aiJiled at; although spritual awareness lslam has been cheapened here, as in many other parts Mus1im world: indescribable emotiona1 link with its great spiritual past has remained a1ivc. Neverhas :city been so loved Cor sake one sing1e persona1ity; never has any man, dead Cor tbltteen hundred years, been . 10ved so personal1y, and 50 , he who lies buried neath the great green dome. And yet never claimed to anything but mortal man, and never Muslims attributed divinity to him, $0 man Collowers other Prophets done after Prophet'5 death. Indeed, the an itse1f abounds in statements which stress Muhammad's humanness: Muhammad is naught ' Prophet;

will then tun back ,n ' heels ? His utter insignificance before

has thus been expressed the Kcran: Say [ Muhammad]: '1 do.not possess any,ower 10 grant good .. 1 donot n possessan power 10 n bene.fit , m
10

[ majesty God

myse/f, except as God please; and had 1 kno\vn the n knowable, 1 wouldhaveacquiredmuchod, and evillvould ,

252

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Iul~ be/aJlen . 1 nOlhing : wamer the giver / glad tidiltgs 10 those who have/aith in God ...' .

Itwas preciselybecause h was l human, becausehe lived like other men, enjoying the 'pleasures aod suffering thc ills ! hn existence, that those around him could 50 him with theit love. . This love has outlasted his death aod lives in the hearts of his followers like the leitmolif of melody built up tones. It lives in edina. It 5peaks to you out of every stone of the city. You 'almost touch it with your hands: but cannot te it in words ...

-2 the in the direction of the Great s, an old acquaintance hai15 in passing. 1 nod to this and that 5hopkeeperand finally allow myself to dragged friendAz-Zughaybidown to the little platform wblch h selIs cloth to beduins. 'Wh didst thou return, M1 Jha mmad, and from where'1 It is months since thou .' '1 am min from Han and from the Nufud.' 'And wilt thou not remain at h for time l' 'No brother, 1 am lvin for the day,after tomorrow.' Az-Zughaybica1ls out to the in the coffeeshop opposite, and soon the tin linkin before , 'But why, Muhammad, art thou going to now1 he season of hojj is past ..' 'It js not desirefor pi1grimage that takes to . After all, am 1 not hojji five timesover'1 But somehow 1 have feeling .that 1 will not 1 remain in rai, and want to see gain the city in wblch lif in this land ...' And then 1 add with Iaugh: 'Well, brother - to te thee the truth, 1 do not 00 derstand myself why 1 am going10 ; but 1 know 1 have to . : Az-Zughaybi shake5his head in disay: 'Thou wouldst leave this d. and thy brethren '1 How canst thou 5ek: like thi?' familiar figures sses with 10n8o hutriec;l 5tride: it is layd. obviously in sech someone'. '. zayd. where to l' , tums abruptly toward with an eager face:
! I STROLL THROUGH

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'It is thee 1 have looking for, uncle; there was pack ofletters waiting thy return at the post . they are. And thee, Shaykh Az-Zughaybi!' Sitting cross-legged before Az-Zughaybi's shop, 1 go through the bundle of : there are severalletters from friends in ; from the editor of the ue Zurcher Zemg of Switzerland, whose correspondent 1 have for the past six years; from India, urging to there and make the acquaintance of thc largest single li community in the world; few letters from various parts ofthe Near East; and with postmark -from good friend A1i Agha, from whom 1 have not heard for than year. 1 it and glance through the pages covered with Ali Agha's elegant shiqosta* writing:
u mostbeloved/riend nd brother, the light %ur , the most respeetedAsad l, God lengthen his life and teet his steps. . n and the / God, ever nd ever. And we God that gi\'e heolth and happiness, knowing that it w pleose to hearthat weolso in perfect health,God proised. We did n! write u/ 10n time / the uneven mann in which our life has progressing in the months. /ather, God an! , has passedaway and we, beilig tlJe eldest , had to spend much time and worry the arrangeent / / afJairs. , has n God's wi/l that the a.ffairs / his unworthyservanthave prospered nd , the lJQving granted promotion to lieutenant eolonel. addition, we hope soon to joined '" atri mon .vith gi and beautifullady, second in 5hirln - and '" t1Jis way old, unsettled days coming to close. As is we//known to /riendly heart, we have n! n without sin and ero '" past ~ u! did not Hafiz say,
'

God, ho lJast thrown plank into the midst / sea Couldst Tll0U have desired that it remain dry?'

So old Agha is at last going to settle down and re . spectable! was not 80 respectable when I first met ,
Lit.. 'broken' - Pcrsian variant Arabic script. used Cor rapid writiDl.

2s4

little over seven years , in the town , to wblch he had been 'exiled'. Although he was only twenty-six then, his t had full of aetion and excitement; had taken part in the political upheavals wblch precedcd the assumption power Riza ha. and could bave played considerable role in Tehran had not lived ! 100 ga. His presence in out-of-the-way in southeastem corner of Iran had brought about hiswied and infiuential father in tbat the son might reformed if were rcmoved from pleasures of . But Ali Agha seemed to found compensations . in - women, arrack and ( sweet poison of , to which was greatly devoted. ! tbat , in 1925, was the t! gendarmerie mandei with rank lieutenant. As 1 was about to cross the ! Dasht-i-Lut desert, 1 looked up with letter of intro duetion from tOO governor of ina province - which in it5 tum was based letter from Riza han. the Prime Minister and dietator. 1 found Agha in shady garden orange trees, oleanders and palms through whose pointed vaults the rays the sun were filtered,He was in his shirt sleeves. carpet was spread lawn, and it were dishes with the remnants ! andhalf-empty bottles arrack. Ali Agha apologized, , It is impossible to find wine in this damned hole,' and forced to drink the local arrack - terribIe brew which went to the brain like bIow. With theswimming northern Persian glanced.throui,11 the letter from irman, tossed it aside and said: , Even if you had without introduction,.I would have inied you myself your journey through Dasht-i-Lut. You are guest. Iwould never let ride alone into the a)ucbl desert.' Someone who until had sitting halfconcealed in the shadow of tree rose slowly: woman in knee-Iength, light-blu~si1k tunic and wide, white Balucbl trousers. She had sensual face tbat seemed to bum from witbln, large red Iips and beautiful b1.it strangely vague eyes; the lids were pa.inted with antimony. 'She is blind.' Ali Agha whispercd to in French, 'and is wonderful singer.' 1 admired great tendemess and respect with wblch treated girl who, i1S pubIic singer, belonged to category in

PBR.SIAN

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lran more or less equated courtesans; could not better toward any of great ladies of . We sat down. $ll three ofus. , and while Agba busied himself with rzi and opium pipe. 1 talked with the al girl. In spite of blindness she could laugh as 1 those laugb who dwell deep in inner gladness; aod she made shrewd and witty remarks such as lady of the great world oeed not ashamed of. When Ali Agha fi.nished his pipe. . took gently hand and said: 's stranger here. this Austriao. would sureJy like to hear one of your songs; has yet heard the songs of the
alhi.

Ov the sightlcss face l faraway, dream.y happioess as took the lute that Ali handed to her and begao to strum the trings. She sang with deep. husky voice Balucbl teot song which sounded like life from warm lips ... 1 return to the Jetter:

1 wonder if still membe, brotlrer and respecled /riend, how we trarelJed together in those old days through the Dasht-; Lut. and how we had 10 jight / /)u lives with those Baluchi bandits. . . ?
Do 1 ? 1 smile inwardJy at Ali Agha's idJe question and see myself and him. in the desoJate Dasht-i-Lut, the 'Naked Desert' which spreads its huge tines from ls deep into the heart of Iran. 1 was about to cross it in order to Seistan, the easternmost province of Iran, and thence to proceed to Afghanistan; as 1 had from ir, there was other way but thi. We stopped, together witb our escort of BaJuchi gendarmes, ! grecn oasi the fringe of the desert in order to blre 1 aod provisions for the 100g trek ahead. Our temporary headquarters were in the station of the Indo-European TeJegraph. he station-master, tall, , sharp-eyed , almost let out sight and seemed to appraise with his glances. 'eware of this ,' Ali \vhisper.~d 10 , ' is bandit.I know m and knows that 1 know . Until few ago was real robber. but now has saved enough

256

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and s respectable - and makes more money from supplying arms to bls former collea.gues. 1 nl waiting for opportune moment to cateh him at it. But the. fellow is unnin and it is difficult to prove anything. Since has heard that you are Austrian is very . During the World War some Austrian and German agents were trying to arouse the tribes in these parts against the British; they had g gold coins with them: and our friend tnks that every German or Austrian is similarly .' But the cunning the station-master , for was 1 to find for two the best riding-camels the region. he rest the day was occupied with haggling about waterskins. camel-hair , . clarifiOO butter and other odds and ends necessary for the desert journey. he afternoon following day we startOO. Ali Agha de cided to ahead with four gendarmes to in place for the night, and the drawn-out of their dqries soon disappeared beyond the horizon. We others - Ibrahim. self and the fifth gendarme - followed at slower . We swayed (how new it was then to !) with the strange, swinging of the slinl-limbed dromedaries, at first through sand dunes, yellow, sparsely dotted with clumps of grass, then deeper and deeper into the plain - into an endiess, grey lain, &1 and empty - so empty that it not to flow but to faU toward the rizo: fo;: your could find thin there which to rest, ridge the gound, ~10 stone, bush, blade of grass. No animal sound, chirping of birds or ummin of beetle broke through that vast si1ence, and even the wind, deprived of aU impediment, swept low with out voke over the void - , f into it, as stone falls into an abyss .. his was not silence of death, but rather of the un , of that which had never yet to : the silence before the Firs1 Word. And then it happened. he silence broke. uman voice struck gent1y, chirpingJy, into the air and remainOO suspended, as it were: and to you it seemOO as ifyou could not nl hear but see it, 50 10l and 80 undisguisOO other sounds it floatOO over the desert plain. It was Baluchi 801dier. s song of his nomad days, half-sung and half-spoken rhapsody. quick succession ! hot and tender words wblch 1 could not un

PERSIAN LETTEI.

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derstand. His voice rang in few tones, ! single level, with persistence that gradually grew into something like splen dour as it enveloped the brittle melody in byplay of throaty /sounds. nnd, sheer repetition and variation of the same theme, unfoldcd unsuspected wealth in its flat tones - flat and limit less, likc the land in which it had born ... he of the desert through which we now travelled was called the 'Desert Ahmad's Bells'. Many years ago, led named Ahmad 10st its way here, and ll them, animals, perished from thirst; and to this day , it is said, the bells which Ahmad's camels wore around their neck!> are stiles heard travellers - ghostly, mournful sounds " entice [ unwary from their path and lead them to dea~h in the descrt. Shortly after sunset we caught up with Ali Agha and the ad vance guard and. made amidst some kahur shrubs - the last we would see for days. was made from dry twigs, and the inevitable tea prepared - while Ali Agha smoked his usual opium pipe. camels were fed coatse barley l and made to kneel in l around us. Three of the gendarmes were posted as sentries the outlying dunes, for the region in which we found ourselves was in those days playground the dreaded demons the desert, the 1 tribal raiders from the south. Ali Ag!"a just .linished his pipe , tea and was drinking arrack - , for 1 was not in . keep when rifle shot shattered the silence of the night. second shot from of our sentries answered and was followed out cry somewhere in the darkness. Ibrahim, with great presence of mind, irnmediately threw sand ( . More shots from ll directions. he sentries were now invisible, ! could hear them out to one another. We did not know how the attackers wei-e, for they kept uncannily silent. Qnly off and faint stab of light from rifle u an their presence; and or twice 1 could discem white-clad figures flitting through tbe blackness. Several low-aimed bullets 'whizzed over our heads, but of us were hit. Gdua ( commotion died down, few more shots f and were sucked in the night; and the raiders, apparently disconcerted our watchfulness. vanished as quietly as they had . Agha called in the sentries and we held short council.

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Originally we had intended to spend the night here; but as we had idea how strong the attacking was. and whether they would ! retum with reinforcements, we decided to break immediately andto move . he night was as k as pitch; heavy, low clouds had con cealed the and the stars. In summertime it is better, as rule,to travel in the desert at night; but under ] stances we would have risked in such darkness for ! losing our way, for the hard gravel ! Dasht-i-Lut does not keep tracks. In the early times the Iranian kings used to mark the caravan routes in such deserts guideposts asnry, but like so man other good things ! the old days, these marks had long since disappeared. Indeed, they \vere longer necessary: the wire ofthe Indo-European Telegrapb, laid the British ! the beginning ! the century from the Indian frontieracross the Dasbt-i-Lut to ir, served equally we1l, or even better, as guide; but in night like this,.wire and tele graph posts were invisibIe. 1biswe discovered to our dismay ".. about balf hOur the gendarme \ had riding abead as our guide suddenly reined in his mount and sbamefacedly reported to AIi : 'Hazrat,I cannot see the wire more .. .' For moment we all remained silent. here were weUs, we knew, only along the route marked telegraph line, and and even these were very widely spaced. lose ' way here would ean to like Ahmad's legendary caravan ... hereupon AIi Agha spoke up in way wblch was quite un like his usual manner; and one could safely presume that arrack and opium were responsible. drew out his pistol and bel lowed: 'Where is the wire? Why did you lose the wire, you sons dogs? , 1 know - are in league with those bandits and tryg to lead us astray so that we from thirst and thus easy plunder!' his reproach was certainly unjust, Cor Balucbl would never man with whom has eaten bread and salt. gen darmes, obviously hurt their lieutenant's accusation, assed their innocence, but broke in: 'Silence! Find the wire immediately or 1 will shoot down , you sons ! bumed fatbers!'

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1 coutd not their faces in the darkness but could sense how deeply . the free Balucbls. were feeling the insult; they longer bothered to reply. Th suddenly ofthem - guide of while ago - detached himself from the group, struck his ! with bls whip and disappeared at gallop into the darkness. 'Where to 7' shouted Agha and received few indistinct words in reply. For few seconds could hear soft pad ding ! the camel's feet, then the sounds dived into night. In spite ! conviction, moment before, ! the innocence of Baluchi gendarme, the hesitant thought crossed mind: Now has gone to bandits; Ali Agha was right, after ... 1 heard Agha draw back the safety-catch ofhis pistot and 1 did the same. Ibrablm slowly unslung his carbine. We sat motionless in our saddles. ! the dromedaries grunted softly. gendarme's struck against saddle. Long minutes passed. could almost hear the breathing of the . Then, abruptly, shout from great distance. it sounded mereIy like, '000,' but the Baluchis seemed to under stand it and of them, cupping his hands to his mouth, citedly shouted something back in the Brahui tongue. Again that distant shout. of the gendarmes turned toward Ali Agha and said in Persian: ' ,,'ire, hazrat! has found the wire!' tension broke. Relieved, we followed the voice ! the in visible scout directing us from to time. When we reached . rose in his saddie and pointed into the darkness: .'There is the wire.' And rightIy, after few moments we almost struck against telegraph post. he first thing Ali Agha did was characteristic 'of hi. caught the soIdier his bclt, dre\v cIose to himself and, learning nvcr the saddle, kissed both cheeks: '11 is 1, and not thou, who is son of dog, brother. For give .. .' It subsequently transpired that the Baluchi, this child ! the wilderness, had riding in zigzag untiI heard from dis tance of half mile the wind in the wire: humming that was even now, when 1 passed directly under it, almost impercep tibJe to European ears ...

260

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Wo .proceeded slowly, c:autiously, through the black night, from invisible telegra'ph l to invisible telegraph l, thegendarmes always riding ahead and calling out ti his hand steuck polo. Wo had found our way and were dtrmed not to 10se it apin.

1 WN -VI and return to Agha's letter:

With tl,epromotion to /ieutenant /n/, this Jmbl individll has n appointed to the nl '8taff; and this, helovedfriend andbrother, appea/s ( us than ga/'rison life in provincial town ...
1 am it does; Ali Agha has always had flair for life in the capital and its int - especially political intrigues. And, in deed, in bls letter goes to describe the political atmosphere ofTehran, those endless wranglings under the surface, those in tricate manoeuvrings with wblch fOl'eign powers for so long mana to keep Iran in s18te restlessness that makes it wel1-nigh impossible for the strange, gifted nation to into its own.
R1gb( n} '~'e being harassed the English oil : ,' pressure ;sbe;ng exerted unu Goverenl 10 extendthe concession and thus 10 pr%ng u sla\ery. TJ,e bazaars uz zing with rumours, alldGod alone kno~'s \vhere illis }vill /ead

to .
he bazaar has always played most important role in the politicallife ( countries; and this is particularly true hran bazaar, in wblch the' hidden heart Ir pulsates with persistence that defies alI tinal decay and alI passing til. etween the lines Ali Agha's letter this huge bazaar, 1 most city in itself, reappears before eyes with the vividness of sight seen on1y yesterday: wide-meshed twilight labyrinth ofhalls and passageways roofed with vaults ofpointed arches. In the main street, ! to small, dark booths fil1ed ~ith trifles, there covered patios with skylights, stores iri which the

PERSIA.N LETTBR

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most expensive European and Asiatic silks are being sold; next to ropemakers' workshops. the 81ass cases ofthe silversmiths full delicate filigr~ work; multicoloured textiles from Bokhara and India mingle with rare Persian - huntin8 carpets with figures knights horseback. , leopards, peacocks and antelopes; glass-pearl necklaces and automatic lighters next to sewing machines; black, unhappy umbre11as side side with yel1ow-embroidered sheepskin robes from horasan: 11 as sembled in ts extremely 10ng hall as if in an immense and not too carefully arranged shop window. In the innumerable side-lanes this tangled maze handi craftsand , the shops grouped according to trades. you see the 10ng lin of saddlers and leatherworkers, with the red dyed leather as the dint colour and the sourish sclt leather permeatingthe . here taiJors: and fr ni - most the shops consist l single raisea ni with about three or four square yards floor space - one ers the whirring industrious sewing machines; 10ng g~ents hung out for sale, always the same garments - that when you walk you sometimes think that you are standing still. ou similar impression in many other the baza as wel1; the less. the abundance of sameness at single point has nothing in common ,vith monotony; it intoxi cates the stranger and fills him with uneasy satisfaction. Even though you visit the bazaar for the hundredth .time, you find the mood around you always the , seemingly unchanged - but that inexhaustible, vibrating changelessness an wave which always alters its forms but keeps its substance unchanged. The bazaar the coppersmiths: chorus bronze bells are the swinging hammers which beat out copper. bronze and brass the most varied shapes, transforming formless metal sheets into bowIs and basins and goblets. What acoustic sureness, this hammering in altering tempos across the whole length of the azar - acquiescing to the rhythm of others - so that there should dissonance to the car: hundred work men hammering differentobjects in different shops - but in the whole bazaar street only melody ... In this deep, more than merelymusical, almost sociaIdesirefor harmony aprcars tl:t: hidden gr of the Iranian soul. The spice z; siIent lI white sugar cones, rice bags.

..

262

mounds almonds and pistacblos, hazelnuts and melon kernels.

baslns fun of dried apricots and ginger, brass plates with cin curry, , saffron and seeds, the litt1e bowls ofaniseed, vanilla, cummin, cloves and countless odd herbs and roots which exude heavy, overpowering . Over the shining, brass scales crouch the Iords of these strangenesses, like buddhas, with crossed. lg, from time to time Ilin out in to passerby and asking after wants. All speech is only ,vhisper : noisy where sugar flows smootbly bag into balance scaJe, and cannot noisy \vhere thyme or aniseed is being weighed ... It is the same adaptation to the of the material wmch enables the Iranian to knot carpets out of innumerable coloured wool threads - thread 9 thread, fraction inch fraction inch - until the~hole stands there in its playful perfection. lt is accidcnt that Persian carpets have equal in the world. Where else could find this deep quiet, this thoughtfulness and absorption in one's own doing? - where else such , dark depths to which time and the passing oftime solittle? , l cavemous niches, somewhat larger ,than the usual ones, sit silent miniature painters. hey are copying old miniatures from hand-written books that 1 torn to shreds. de pieting in breath-fine Iincs and colours the great things : fights and hunts, 1 and happiness and sadness. and thin as nerve-threads their brushes; the colours are not entrusted lifeless vessels but mixed the living abn of the painter and distributed in minute bIobs and drops the fingers the left hand. new pages offlawless whiteness the old miniatures experience rebirth, stroke after stroke, shade after shade. Side side with the flaking gold backgrounds the origjnals emerge the shining the copies. faded orange trees royal park blossom again in new spring; the tender women in;silks and' furs repeat again their loving gestures; anew rises ( sun over old knigbtly 1'010 game ... Stroke after stroke. shade after shade, the siIent follow the creative adventures of dead artist, and there is as rnuch love in them as there was enchantment in him; and this love makes almost forget the iperfe..t; U} '. 'J!" the eopies ... 'J-;rr";, Jias~s, and thc miniature painters sit bent over their \vork, strangers unto the day. Time passes; in the bazaar streets
,

PERSIAN

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Westem junk penetrates with stubbom gradualness into the shops; ( kerosene lamp from Chicago, the printed cotton cloth from Manchester and ( teapot from Czechoslovakia ad , vance victoriously: but ( miniature painters sit cross-Iegged their worn straw mats, burrowing with tender eyes and fingertips into the blissful oldjoys, give to their royal hunts and ecstatic lovers new awakening, day after day , , . Numberless are the people in the : gents with coHar often tg over or semi-European suit, conservative burghers 'il1 long kajral1S and silken sashes, peasants and artisans in blue drab jackcts, Sing ing devishes - Iran's aristocratic beggars - in white, flowing garrnents, sometimes with 1eopard skin over the back, 10ng hair and mostly of fine build, l women of the middle class , according to their means, dressed in silk or , but always in bIack, with the traditional short standing stiffiy w from their faces; the s \vear <t light-coloured flo\vered cotton wrap. . muHahs ride magnificcntly caparisoned.asses and turn the strangcr [ atical that seems to ask: 'What doing ? one of those who work our country's ruin?' Iran's long experience ofWestern intrigues has made its peopJe suspicious. No Iranian expects good ( to his country ' the /arangis, Agha does not seem to unduly pessimistic: [

is o/d -

certaln/y

n! :

reody 10 die. We

',\' "

oppressed. nations IlOve slvept , and " / (//;! 110ve passed Q}vay: Ive . [ o//d ,

in igllorollce ond dorkl1ess: u! Ive l1in a/I}'c. This "':; because 11'l' lranians a/woys.go u Qlvn ', How /1n 'IO! tl,e outside }~'or/d lried to / us new '! / /ife - and ',! O/IVOYS /oiled, W(' do / oppose / /! Ivitll Vio/eflCe, ond /1,er('10re {! }' .sometimes ! if \ Ilad surrend(!red [ tlle,l" l1! .~'e / the tribe / the muryune - tllOt litt/(!, insignijicoJlt n! Ivhic/l lil'es under 's. , liglll / Ileart, mus/ I,ave seel1 some times 111 lran hO\li 'el/-buill IlOuses Ivitll stro"g II'a//s suddenly co//apse / n! reosoll. WI,ot Ivas tlze reaSO/l? Notllillg ul Il10se n ,,1! which/or years, 1!';II,/f/lceasif1g induslry. 110\'(' ('l1 burrm\'ing ss:s and rl'i!iI'S i/i 111l' /oundOlinlf;,

264 ROAD a/ways advancing hair's breadth, s/ow1y, patient/y, in aJ/ directions - unti/at last [ wa///oses its /n and topp/es over. We /ranians su , We do not oppose the powers / ( world with noisy and useless violence, but allow to do their worst, and burrow 'n si/ence u passageways and , until tlJeir build;ng Jt1i/1 suddenly co/lapse ... And ',\' what happes when throlv stone into I~'ater? s;nks, a/ew circles the sur/ace, spread out andgraduallylade away, until the water ;sasplacidas /. We [ran;ans such\t1ater. he Shah, Godpro/ung ilis/ife, has heavy burden to , M,;th the English sideand the Russians the other. But we \' doubt that, the graceofGod,lJe will.find \~'ay to /n ...
li Agha's implicit faith in Riza Shah does not, the surface, to misplaeed. is undoubtedly of the most

dynamic personalities 1 have ever met in the Muslim world, and of 1l the kings 1 have known, only Ibn Saud with
n.

he story of Riza Sbah's rise to power is like fantastic fairy tale, possible only in this Eastem world where personal courage and wi1lpower sometimes lift out utter obscurity to the pinnaele of1eadership. When 1 to know during first stay in Tehran in the summer 1924, was Minister and undisputed dictator Iran; but the people had not yet quite overcome tbeir 8hock at seeing him 60 suddenly, 80 cxpectedly, at the helm of tbe country's affairs. 1 still remember the wonderment with whicb an old Iranian clerk in the rl Embassy at Tehran onee told : ' know that but ten years this rn Minister ofours stoOO guard asan ordinary trooper before the gatcs of this very embassy 1 And that I myself occasionally gave him letter to deliver to the Foreign Ministry and admonished i, "Make haste, you 50 of dog, and don't dawdle in the bazaar ... !" Yes, it had not so years since Riza thc trooper 5toOO 5entry before the embassies and public buildings of Teb~ ran. 1 eould pieture as stood tl1ere in the shabby uniform 9Ithc Iranian eossaek brigade, leaning his r and azin, at /the act1vity in the 5treets around i. would wateb Persian

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peoplc stroll along like dreamy shadows sit in tbe cool ! eveninga10ng thewater cbannels.as 1watched tbem. And from tC English bank beblnd his back would hear the rattling oftypo writerIt. the bustle of busy , the whole rustHng stir wblcb distant Europe had brought into that Tehran bui1ding with its e faience fa<;ade. It have then, for the first ( body told this. but 1 somehow tblnk it have so), that in tbe unschooled head ofthe soldier Riza wondering. questioning thought arose: 'Must it like this .. ? Must it that people of otber nations work and strive. while our lif w past like dream 7' And it was perhaps at tbat moment that desire for changc creator of lIJ1 great deeds, discoveries and revolutions - began to flicker in his brain and utl CalI Cor expression ... At other ti have stood sentry before the garden gateway of of the great European embassies. The well tended trees moved with the wind, and the graveIled pathways crunched under the feet of wblte-garbed servants. In that in the midst of the park mysterious power seemed to dwcll; it cowed every Iranian who passed through the gate and ed him to straighten his clothes self-consciously and made his hands embarrassed and,awkward. Sometimes elegant carriages drew and lranian politicians stepped of them. 1 soIdier Riza knew of tbem sigbt: this was the foreign minister, that tbe finance minister. Almost always they had tense, prebensive faces when they entered that gateway, and it was amusing to observe their expressions when they left the embassy: sometimes they \vere radiant, as jf great favour had ferred upon them; sometimcs pale and depressed, as if sentence of doom had just been passed over them. hose mysterious people within bad pronounced the sentence. he soldier Riza wondered: 'Must it thus ... ?' OccasionaIly it happened that 1ranian clerk running from the bui1ding Rjza was guarding, thrust letter into bls hand and said: 'Carr)' this quickly to so and so. But make haste, thou son of dog, othenvise the An1bassador wiII angry!' Riza was accus10med to being thus addressed, for his \vn officers were not in the least fastidious in their cboiee of epithets. But possibIy - , almost certainly - the words 'son of dOB' gave stab fhum.ti, for knew: was not

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son of dog but the son of great nation that ca1led names like Rustam, Darius, Nhirwan, hosru, Shah Abbas, Nadir Shah its wn. But what did <those within' know ! thi? What did they knQw of the forces whdl moved like dark, dumb through the breast of (ort)'-year-old soldier and times threatened to burst his ;; d make him bite his fists in powerless despair, ', if l 1 could .. .'? And the desire for self-::.ffirmatiofl that weepingly dwells in every lranian sometimes rose up with painful, unexpected l in the soldier Riza, and made bls mind clear and made him sudden1y understand strange pattern in saw ... he Great War was over. After the o1shevik revolution, the Russian troops wblch had previously occupied northern lran were withdrawn; but immediately afterward communist heavals broke out in the lranian province of Gilan the Caspian Sea, led the influential Kuchuk h and supported regular Russian units land and sea. The government sent out troops against the rebels, but the bad1y disciplined and poorly equipped lranian soldiers suffered defeat after defeat; and the battalion in wblch Sergeant Ra, then nearly tifty years old, was serving proved , But , when his unit turned to flight after unlucky skirmish, Riza could ! hold himself 10nger. stepped from the breaking ranks and called out, for everyone to hear: <Why do you run away, lranins - you, lranians!' must have felt what Charles the Twelfth of Sweden bad felt \ l wounded the field of Poltava and saw soldiers race in headless flight an(l ca1led out to them with despairing voice: 'Why do you run away, Swedes - you Swedes!' But the difference was that ing Charles was bleeding from wounds and had nothing at his dis posal ! his voice, while the soldier Riza was unhurt and bad loaded Mauser pistol in his hand - and his voice was strong and threatening as w his comrades: "Vhoever flees, 1 will shoot him down - even if it is brother!' Such an outburst was something new to the lranian troops. heir confusion gave way to astonishment. hey curious: what could this have in mind? Some officers tested and pointed out the hopelessness of their pO$ition; a-nd of them scoffed: 'Will , perhaps, lead us 10 vietory?' In that sC('ond,' F.iza may have relived all ( disappointments of

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bis earlier , and ll his dumb bopes were suddenly lighted saw ( end of magic before him; and grasped it. 'Accepted!' cried, and turned the soldiers: 'Will have . as your leader 7' In nation is the cult of the hero 50 deeply ingrained as i the Iranian; and this here seemed to hero. soldiers forgot their and their flight and roared with jubilation: 'u ll our leader!' - '50 it,' replied Riza, '1 will lead ; and 1 wi11 k whosoever attempts to !' But tbougbt 10nger of flight. threw away the u knapsacks, attached their bayonets to their rifles: and under za' leadersblp the whole battalion turned round and tured Russian in surprise assault, drew other Iranian . nit with it, overran the - and after few hours the battle was decided in favour of the lranians. 50 days later telegram from Tehran promoted z to the rank of ; and hecould now tbe title khan his . had got hold of the end of the and c)imbed it. His had sudden1y famous. In quick succession major, ], brigadier; In the year 1921 brought about, in an with the young joumalist ad-Din three other officers, d'etat, arrested the cabinet and, with the help of his devoted brigade, forced the weak and insignificant young Shah Ahmad to appoint new cabinet: Zia ad-Din Minister, Riza han Minister ofWar. could neither read nor write. But he was like demon in his driveforpower. And hehad the idol ofthearmy and the l, who now, for the fir5t time in ages, saw before . them: leader. ' In the politica1 history of Iran scenes change quickly. Zia ad Din disappeared from the stage and reappeared as an in Europe. Riza remained - as Prime Minister. l! was rumoured in Tehran in those days that Riza h, Zia ad-Din and the Shah's younger brother, the Cro\vn Prince, had. spired to remove the 5 from the throne; and it \vas whispered - nobody knows to this day whether it is true - that at the last moment Riza had betrayed his friends to the 5 in order ! to risk own future in so dubious undertaking. ! whether true not, afterward the Prime Ministcr Riza han - advised the ug Shah Ahmad to u ndcrt:!kc

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pleasure trip to Europe. accompanied with great the automobile journey to the border of Iraq and is said to told him: 'Ifyour Majesty ever retums to [, will to " that Riza Khan understands nothing of the world.' longer needed to share his power with ; was, in fact if not in name, the sole overlord Iran. Like hungry wolf, threw himself into work. All Iran was to reformed from top to bottom. The hitherto 100se administration was tralized; the old system fning out entire provinces to the highest bidder was abolished; the govemors ceased to satraps and officials. The army, the dictator's pet child, was organized Westem patterns. Riza han started campaigns against unruly tribal ch.ieftains who had previously regarded themselves as little kings and often refused to the hran govemment; dealt harsbly with the bandits who for man decades had terrorized the countryside. Some order was brought into the :finances the country with the assistance an adviser; taxes and customs began to flow in regularly. Order was brought out chaos. As if echoing the Turkish Kemalist movement, tfte idea republic emerged in Iran, :firstas rumour, then as demand the more progressive elements the populace - and :finally as the aim the dictator himself. But here Riza han seems to have committed error judgment: powerful cry tes~ arose from the lranian masses. 7Iis popular opposition to republican tendencies was not due to any 10ve the reigning house, for nobody in Iran had affection for the Qajar dynasty wh.ich- because its Turkoman gin - had always regarded as 'foreign'; nor was it due to any sentimental predilection for the round. boyish Shah Ahmad. It was something quite different: it was prompted the people's fear losing their religion as the Turks had 10st theirs in the wake Ataturk's revolution. In their ignorance, the lranians did not understand 11 at that republican form governmnt would correspond much more closely to the Islamic scheme l than monarchial ; guided t'y the conser vatism their religious leaders - and perhap~ justi:fiably frightened Riza han's obvious admiration of Kemal Ataturk - the Iranians sensed in his proposal l threat to Islam as tbe dmit in the country.

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great excitement took hold of the population, espec ially in . furious m, with sticks and stones, assembled before Riza han's building uttered curses and threats against the dictator who ! yesterday demigod. Riza Khan's aides urgently advised not to go before the excitement subsided; but brushed them aside , mni only orderly entirely , left compound in closed carriage. As soon as the carriage emerged from the gates, the seized the horses' reins and brought them to standstill. Some people tore the carriage - 'Drag him , drag im out into street!' But already 1Nas getting himself, his [ livid with rage, and began to ! the heads and shoulders of those about him with bls riding crop: ' sons of dogs, away from , away! How dare ! 1 Riza ! Away to women your beds!' And the raging crowd, which had threatening death and destruction but few minutes ago, silent under the impact of his personal courage; they drew back, melted away, , and disappeared in the side-alleys. again great leader had spoken to his people; had spoken in anger, the people were cowed. It at that mm! that feeling of contempt broke through Riza Khan's Iove for his people, and clouded it forever. But ~n spite of Riza Khan's prestige success, the republic did ! materialize. debacle of this plan made it ::>bvious that t power could not bring about ' movement' in the face of the people's resistance. Not that the Iranians were opposed toreform as such: but they instinctively realized that imported, Western political doctrine would the of of ever attaining to healthy development within the text of their own culture and reIigion. Riza han did not understand this, then , and thus estranged from his people. Tlleir love for vanished and fearful hatred gradually took its place. heybegan to ask themselves: What has the hero reaHy done his country? They Ul1td Riza han's achievements: the reorganization of the - but ! price of tremendous costs \vhich placed crushing tax burdens the already impoverished people; the suppressed t! s - ! also the suppressed patriots: showy bui1ding. activity in - ! ever-gro\..i ng misery

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among the peasants in the countryside. l OOgan to remem that but few years ago Riza h had soldier and now hewas the richest in Iran, with innumerable acres of land to his . Were these the 'reforms' about which so had spoken? Did the few glittering buildings in Tehran and the luxury botels which had sprun.~ here and there under the dictator's influence reaHy represent ment of the people's 10t?
WAS STAGE of bls that 1 know Riza han. Whatever the rumours about his personal ambition

and alleged selfishness, I could not faH to recognize the man's greatness from the momcnt he first received in bls at the War Ministry. It was probably the simplest office occupied \vbere. at time, prime minister: adesk, sofa covered with black oilcloth, l of chairs, small bookshelf and bright but modest carpet the :Ooor were 11 that the room tained; and the ta11, heavy-set in his middle fifties who rose from bebind the desk was attired in li khaki uniform with out meda1s, ribbons badges of rank. 1 had een introduced the Gerrnan Ambassador, Count der Schulenburg (for although 1 was Austrian myself, I presented great German newspaper). during that first, formal conversation I m aware ofthe sombre dynamism of R Khan's nature. From under grey, bushy brows pair of sharp, brown regarded - Persian eyes that were usually vei1ed lids: strange mixture of mll and hard ness. here were bitter lines around bls nose and mouth, but the - features betrayed mm power of wi1l wblch kept the lips compressed and fil1ed the jaw with tension. When listened to bls low and \veIl-mdultd voice - the voice ( accustomed to speak words ilnportance and to weigh of them his tongue before it \vas permitted to 00 sound - thought were listening to with thirty-year career of staff officer and blgh dignitary beblnd : and could hardly that it \vas l six years since Riza an had sergeant. and only three since had leamed to read \vrite. m1ist sensed interest in him - and perhaps also

271 affection for his people - for insisted that this interview shoUld. t the ~ast, and aske? , as welI as Schul nburg~ to tea next week at his at Shemran, the beautifuI garden resort some miles out of Tehran. 1 arranged with Schulenburg to first to (lik most the other foreigl1 representatives, aIso was spending the sum in Shemran) and to go together to the Prime Minis er's resi dence. as it happened, 1 was { arrive in ti . few days earlier 1 had purchased small four-wheeled ting riage \vith two spirited horses. How spirited they wer obvious few m.iles outside Tehran, when, foIlowing wicked impulse, tlley obsiinately refused go and in sisted returning . about twenty minutes 1 trugg!ed with ; il1 the , 1 Iet Ibrahim take horses d carriage and stt foot in search some other means . of t\",O iJes brought to vgwh 1 flld droshky, but when 1 arri.. 'ed at the Embassy, it was about and half after the pointed time. 1 found Schulenburg pacing and dowl1 his stud like angry tiger, with hi:.: ! suavitygone: for his ussi cum-ssdril of discipline, such against punctua1ity seemed less than blasphemy. At sig t plodcd wjth indignation: \ ' ' - ' do that to minister! H\lve forgotten that Riza Khan is dictator and, like dict~s, tremcly touchy?' ' horses to have overlooked this fine point, Count ShuJhug,' was on1y l. 'Even if it had the Emperor of . 1 would not have able to ar earlier.' At that the Count recovered his sense of humour and broke out it 10ud laughter: ' God, such thing has never happened to beford! Let's go tben - and that the footman doesn't slam the dloor in our faces .... did not. When we arrived at z Khan's l tea party was ]ong and the other guests had depart d, but the dictator did not in the least offended bre of protocol, Upon hear.ng the reasons for our delay. l imed' 'WeJI, 1 wouldlike to see these horses yours! 1 thin they
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must bel9ng to the opposition party. 1 don't know whether it might wise to placed in poliee custody!' If anything, contretemps rather helped tban hindered the establishment of , informal relationship between the 1l powerful Minister ofIran and theyoungjournalist, which later made it possible for to move about the country freedom greater than that accorded to rnost other foreigners.
LI G'S LETER does refer to the Riza of those early days, the who lived with simplicity almost

believable in display-loving Iran: ic refers to Riza Shah Pablavi, who ascended the Peacock in 1925; it refers to the king who has given of humility and \ seeks to emulate l Ataturk in building vainglorious Western . fa~ade onto bis ancient Eastern land ... 1 to the end of the letter:
AltllOUgh , belm'edfrie12d, 11011' in tlle blessed ofthe Holy Prophel, ' trust notforgottelll1or : 11!il/forget Ul'th friend and his ...
Agha, friend of younger days -'light of heart', yourself would phrase it - your letter has made drunk with : Persia-drunk as 1 when 1 began to know your country, that old, dimjewel set in setting ofancient

gold and cracked marble and dust and shadows - the shadows of the days and nights of melancholy country and of the dark, dreaming of people ... 1 still mm irmanshah; the first Iranian town 1sa\V after 1 left the mountains of Kurdistan. strange, faded, opaque atmosphere lay about it, muffied, subdued - not to say shabby. No doubt, in every Eastcm city poverty lies close to the surface, visible than in city - but to that 1 \vas already accustomed. It was not just pG1 /erty in i sense whicll thrust itself , [ irmanShah ,:; sabl to prosperous to'vn. It was rather kind of depression that lay the pcople, something that was directly connected \vith them and seemed to have hardly anything with economic circumstances.
1l

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All these people had large, black eyes under thick, black bro",s that ft met over the bridge of the nose, weighted lids like veils. Most of the wereslim (1 hardly remember having seen fat in Iran); they never laughed aloud, and in their silent smiles lurked faint irony which seemed to l more than it revealed. No mobility features, gesticulations. nl quiet, measured movements: as if they wore masks. As in Eastern cities, the life of the town was concentrated in the bazaar. It revealed itself to the stranger as subdued mix ture ofbrown, gold~brownand carpet-red, with shimmering per plates and basins here and there and perhaps blue majolica painting over the door of caravanserai with figures of black eyed knights and winged dragons. If looked careful1y, could discover in this bazaar the colours of the world but ofthese variegated colours could quite assert itself in the unifying shadows ofthe vaults that covered the bazaar and drew everything together into sleepy duskiness. he pointed arches the Vaulted roof were pierced at regular intervals smal1 vpenings to let in the daylight. hrough these openings the rays of the sun [l1 in; in the aromatic air of the hal1s they gained the quality of substance and resembled opaque, slanted pillars of light; and not the people seemed to go tbrough them but they, the shining pillars, seemed to go through the shadowy people ... For the people in ts bazaar were gentle andsi1ent like shadows. If trader called out to the passerby, did so in low voice; of them praised his wares with calls and songs, as is the custom in bazaars. soft soles threaded its way here. he people did not elbow or shove one another. hey were polite - with politeness which seemed to bend forward to but in reality held at arm's length. hey were obviously shrewd and did not mind starting conversation with the stranger - but only their lips \vere talking. heir souls stood somewhere in the background, waiting, weighing, detached ... In teahouse some men of the working class sat straw mats - perhaps artisans, labourers, caravan drivers - htldd1ed to gether laround an iron basin fiUed with glowing coals. Two long stemmf.d pipes with round porcelain bowls made the round. sweetiShsmell of opium was in the ; smoked wordlessly; took nl few deep draughts at ti, passing the pipe to his neighbour. And then 1 saw what 1 had not s

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served before: . very man people were smoking , some of them more and others less publicly. Th shopkeeper in his niche; tbe 'oafer under the arched gateway of caravanserai; the coppersmith in bis workshop during moment of respite: they al1 were smoking with the same withdrawn. somewhat tired face. gazing with dull eyes into spaceless void ... Fresh. green poppies with thick buds were being sold ven dors all over the and apparently consumed in tbls way another, milder form of taking opium. Even cldren were eating the seeds in doorways and corners. Two, three of them would divide the delicacy among themselves with old-age tolerance toward , without childish egoism - but also without childish joy vivacity. But how could they other wise? In their earliest life they were given brew of seeds to drink whenever they cried bothered their parents. When they grew and began to roam the streets, the border lines of quietude. lassitude and kindness were already in them. And then 1 knew what had moved so 5trongly when 1 f1rst beheld the melancholy eyes of the Iranians: the sign of tragic destiny in them. 1 felt that the opium belonged to them in the same way as suffering smile belong5 to the face ofa sufferer; it belonged to their gentleness, to their lassitude - it longed to theu great poverty and great frugality. It did not seem to so vice as expression - and also help. Help against what? Strange l of questions ...
MIND DWELLS 80 LONG impressions of irm sbah, the first Iranian city 1 to know, because those i pressions continued. in ryin forms but always unchanged in substance. throughout the and half that 1 remained in Iran. 50ft, pervasive melancholy was the dominant note where. 1t was perceptible in vgs and towns. in the daily do ings of the l and in their religious festivals. 1ndeed. their religious feeling itselt', so unlike that of the Arabs, bore strong tinge of sadness mouming: to weep over the tragic happenings ofthirteen centuries ago - to weep over the deaths of Ali, the Prophet's son-in-law, and Ali's two sons, asan and yn - 5eemed to them more important than to consider

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what Islam stood for and what direction it wanted to give to men's lives ... . evenings, in towns, you could see groups of and women assembled in street around wandering dervish, religious mendicant clad-in white, with panther skin his back, long-stemmed in his right hand and aIms bowl carved from coconut in his left. wouldrecite ha1f sung, half-spoken ballad about strugg1es for succession to the Caliphate that followed the death of the Prophet in the seventh century - mournful tale of faith and blood and death - and it would always run somewhat like this:

Listen, people, Ivhat / God's ehosen , andhow the b/ood / the Prophet's seed wasspi1led the earth. Tlfere was ! whom Godhad likenedunto City / nowledge; and the Gate to that City was (Ife most trusted and valiant / his /ollowers, IJis son-in-law Ali, Liglft / the. Wor/d, sharer o/the Prophet's Message, ealledthe Lion o/God. n tlfe Prophet passedaway, the Lion / God Is his right /! . ! wieked usurped the Lion's G,od-ordained right and made another the Prophet's khalifa; and after thefirst usurper's death, / his evil ilk succeeded m; and a/ter
, !

And only a/ter the third usurper perished did the WiII / God manifest, and the Lion / God attained to this rightful place as Commander / tlfe Faiihful. u! Ali's and God's enemies were ; and day, when he [ prostrated/ hisLord'n , assassin's swordstruek dead. Theearthshook;nanguish ! the b/asphemous deed, and and the mountains wept and the stones shed tears. Oh, God's curse un the eviJdoers, and everlasting punishment consume tllem! . And again anel'i/usurper to the/ anddeniedtheLiono/ God's sons, Hasan and Husayn, sos / Fatimathelessed, tlte;r right / success;on to tl,e Prophet's 'hrone. Ha'san was fou1/y po;soned; and ll,n n os ;nde/enee / the Eaith.hisbeau tifulli/e was extingu;slled thefield / Karbala as he kneJt down Q l o/\t-'ater to queneh his thirst a/ter thebattle. Oh, God'scurse n the ev;ldoers, and m ' angels' 'ea.~ forever water the saeredso;1 / arbala!

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he head / usn - the head the Prophet had kissed was ll offand his Ileadless body was brought lk to the tent where his weeping cllildren awaited their /ather's return. A-nd ever since, the Faithful have ivkd God's curse transgressors and wept over the deaths / A-/i and and ; and , Faithful, ra;se voices in lament / their deaths - / God/org;,'es the sins / those who }veep for the Seed / the Prophet .

And the chanted ballad would bring forth passionate sobbing from the listening women, while silent tears would over the faces of bearded ... Such extravagant 'laments' were far indeed from the true, blstorical picture of those early happenings that had caused never-healed schism in the world of Islam: the division of the Mus1im community into Sunnites, who form the bulk of the Mus1im peoples and stand fin the principle of elective succession to the Caliphate, and the Shiites, who maintain that the Prophet designated Ali. his son-in-Iaw, as his rightful heir and successor. In reality, however, the Prophet died without nominating , whereupon of his oldest and most faithful , Abu , was elected kllalifa the over whelming majprity of the community. Bakr was succeeded Umar and the latter Uthman; and l after Uthman's death was Ali elected to the Caliphate. here was, as 1 knew well even in Iranian days, nothing evil or wicked about Ali's three predecessors. hey were undoubtedly the greatest and noblest figures of Islamic history after the , and ,had manyyears his most intimate Companions; and they were certainly not 'usurpers', having en elected the people in the free exercise of ( right accorded to them Islam. It was nottheir assumption ofpower but ratherAli's and his fws' unwillingness to accept wholeheartedJy the results of those lar elections that led to the subsequent struggles for power. to Ali's death, and to the transformation - under the fifth Caliph, Mu'awiyya- ofthe original, republican form ofthe Islamic State into hereditary kingship, and, ultimately. to Husayn's death at
es, 1 had known this before 1 to lran; but 1 was struck the boundless which that old, tragic tale of

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thirteen centuries ago could still ar among the Iranian people whenever the of, Ali, Hasan or syn were mentionOO. 1 began to wonder: Was it the innate melancholy of the Iranians and their sense of the dramatic that had caused them to the Shia doctrine? - or was it the tragic qual ity of the latter's origin that had 100 to this intense I(anian
ll?

degrees, over number of months, startling answer took in mind. When, in tbe middle of the seventh century, the armies of Caliph Umar conq~erOO the ancient Sasanian Empire, bringing Islam with thern, Iran's Zoroastrian cult had already 10ng rOOuced to rigid formalism and was thus unable to effec tively the dynamic new idea that had from Arabia. But at the time when the conquest burst it, Iran was passing through period of social and intellectual ferment whicb to promise ] regeneration. Tbis of inner, organic revival was shattered the Arab invasion; and the lranians, abandoning their own bistoric line of dvel1t, henceforth accommodatOO themselves to the cultural and ethical concepts that bad brought in from outside. advent of Islam represented in Iran, in so cther countries, tremendous social advance; it destroyed the old Iranian caste system and brought into being new com.m.unity of free, equal people; it opened new channels for cultural energies tllat had 10ngl"dormant and inarticulate: but witb this, the proud descendants of Darius and Xerxes could never forget that the bistorical continuity of their national , the organic nection between their Yesterday and Today, had suddenly broken. l whose innermost character had found its pression in the baroque dualism of the zand religion and its l most pantheistic worship of the four elements - air, water, fi.re and earth - was now faced with Islam's austere, uncompromising monotheism and its passion for the Absolute. .transition was too sharp and ainfl to allow the Iranians to subordinate tbeir deeply rootOO national consciousness to the supranational cept of Islam. 1 spite of their speedy and apparent1y voluntary acceptance of the new religion, they subconsciously equated the vietory of tbe Is1amic idea witb lran's nal defeat; and the feeling of having defeated nd irrevocably tomout of the

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context their ancient cultura1 heritage - feeling desperately intense for 11 its vagueness - was destined to od their national self-confidence for centuries to . Unlike san other nations to whom the Islam gave almost i mcdiately most positive impulse { further cultural develop ment, { lranians' first - , in way, most durable - reaction to it \vas deep humiliation and repressed resentment. That resentment /lad to repressed smothered in the dark folds the subconscious, for in the meantime Islam had . Iran's wn faith. But in their hatred ofthe Arabian quest, { Iranians instinctively resorted to what psychoanalysis describes as 'overcompen!ation': { began { regard the faith brought to them their Arabian conquerors as sometblng that was exclusively their own. hey did it subtly transforming the . rational, unmystical God-consciousness the Arabs into its very opposite: mystical fanaticism and sombre . faith which to the Arab was presence and reality and source posure and freedom, evolved, in the mind. into dark longing for the supernatural and symbolic. he Islamic principle of God's ungraspable transcendency was transfigured into the mystical doctrine (for \ there were in Islamic Iran) of God's physical manifestation in especially chosen mortals who would transmit trus divine essence { their descendants. such , espousal of { Shia trine offered welcome channel: for there could doubt that the Shiite veneration, almost deification, Ali and . bls deScendants concealed { germ of { idea of God's and continual reincamation - idea entirely to Islambut very close tc the Iranian heart. Ithad accident that the Prophet Muhammad without havll1g nominated successor and, indeed, refused to nominate when suggestion to that effect was made shortly beforehis death. his attitude intended to convey. firstly. thatthespiritual quality ofProphethoQd \vas not something that couldbe 'inherited', and, secondly. that the future leadership of the cQmmuni1y should the outcome of free election. the people themselves and 1 'ordin<l~i:1n' the Prophet (wblchwould naturally have implit'd m i..!.\ designatioo successor); t1ius deliberatrly ruled 1 the idea tbat the community's leadership could e'ier anything but secu1ar or

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could in the nature 'apostolic succession'. But this was precisely what the Shia doctrine aimed , It not only insisted in clear trdi to the spirit of Islam - the principle apostolic succession, but that succession exclusively to 'the Prophet's seed', thatiS, to his cousin and son-in-law and bis lineal descendants. This was entirely in tune with the mystical inc1inations ihe Iranians. But when they enthusiastically joined the of those who claimed that Muhammad's spi:titual essence 1ived in Ali and the latter's descendants, the Iranians did not merely satisfy mystical desire: there was yet another, subconscious motivation for their choice. If Ali was the rightful heir and successor of the Prophet, the three who preceded must obviously usurpers - and among had Umar, that Umar \ had conquered lran! national hatred of the conqueror of the Sasanian Empire could now rationalized in terms :of religion - the religion that had Iran's wn: Umar had 'deprived' Ali and his sons Hasan and Husayn of their divinely ordained right of succession to the Caliphate Islam and, thus, had opposed the \i11 God; consequent ly, in obedience to the wil1 God, AJi's party was to sup ported. Out national antagonism, religious doctrine was
rn.

In the Iranian enthronement the Shia 1 discerned mute protest against the Arabian conquest of Iran. Now 1 under stood why the Iranians cursed Umar with hatred far more bitter than that reserved for the other two 'usurpers', and Uthman: from the doctrin<tl point of view, the first Caliph, Bakr, should regarded the principal trans gressor - but it was Umar who had conquered Iran ... This, then, was the reason for the strange intensity with which thc House Ali was venerated in Iran. Its cult represented symbolic"act of Ir revenge Arabian Islam (\ stood so uncompromisingly against the deification of um per sonality including that of Muhammad). True, the" S!lia doctrine had not originated in Iran; there were Shiite groups in other Muslim lands as weJl: but nowhere else had it achieved 50 plete hold over the people's emotions and imagination. \ the Irs gave passionate vent to their mourning over the death5 of A1i, Hasan and us, they wept not merely over the

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destruction of the House of Ali but also themselves and the 1055 of their ancient glory ...

people, th05e . heir the Iranian landscape - in the endless stretches of fallow land, the lonely mountain paths and blghways, the widely scattered villages of mud houses, the fiocks of sheep which were driven in the evening in g-w waves to the well.In the cities life dripped in slow, incessant drops, with out industry or gaiety; everything seemed to shrouded in dreamy vei1s, and face had look of indolent waiting. heard in the streets. lf in the evening Tatar stable broke into song in caravanserai, involuntarily pricked one's ears in astonishment. Publicly only the dervishes sang: and they always saq.g the same ancient, tragic ballads about , Hasan and Husayn. Death and tears wove around those songs and went like heavy wine to the heads of the lis teners. of sadness, but of willingly, almost greedily accepted sadness, seemed to lie over these people. summer evenings in could see and women crouching motionless the watercourses that ran along both sides of the streets under the shadow of the huge elm trees. hey sat and stared into the fiowing water. hey did not talk to another. hey nl to the gurgling of the water and let the -rustling of the tree branches pass over their heads. Whenever 1 saw them 1 had to think of David's psalm: the / Babylon, there we sat dl, , Ive wept ... the side of the watercourses like huge, dumb, dark birds, lost in silent contemplation of the tlowing water. Were they thinking long, long-drawn-out thought which belonged to them, and to them alone? Were they waiting? .. for what? And David sang: We hanged harps UI1 the I~OlVS in the midst thereo/ . . .

.WERE MELA NCHOL melancholy was retlected in

-3 let us go' - and 1 put Agha's letter into pocket and rise to say good-bye to Az-Zughaybi. But shakes rus head: .
', ZA YD,

PERSIAN

No. brother. let Zayd stay here with for while. If thou art niggardly ( tell lI that has befallen ( during thcsc past , let hint t the story in thy stead. Or dost ( think thy friends Jonger what happens to (?'

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-1 winding al1eys ofthe oldest of Medina: house-wal1s of stone rooted in shadow, windows and lni~ hanging over lanes that resemble gorges 5.0 narrow place5 that two people pass other; and d myselfbefore the grey stone fa~ade ofthe library built about hundred years ago Turkish scholar. In its courtyard, bchind the forged bronze gill ofthe gate, inviting silence. 1 cross the stone-flagged , past the single that. stands with motionless branches in its middle, and step into { domed l1 lined \vith glas5-covered bookcases - thousand5 of hand-witten books, among them some of the rarest manuscripts known to the Islamic \"orld. It is books like these that have given glory to Islamic culture: glory tlt has passed away like { wind of yesterday. . As 1 look at these books in their tooled-Ieather covers, the dis between the Muslim Yesterday Today strikc$ like painful blow .. , . 'What ails thee, son? Why this bitter look thy [?' 1 turn tQward the voice - and behold, sitting the tween the \\'indows, [ his knees, the diminutive figure old friend, Shaykh Abdullah ibn hid. is sharp, ironical eyes greet \\'ith warm flicker as 1 kiss his forehead and sit do\vn his side. is the greatest " the ulaa of Najd and, in spite .of - peculiar { the Wahhabi outlook, ofthe keenest minds 1have ever met in Muslim countries. His friendship [ has contri buted greatly to making Hfe in and pleasant, in Ibn Saud's kingdom his 'word counts than that of other except the ing himself. closes his book with snap and draws to blmself, looking at inquiringly. '1 was thinking, Shaykh, how [ we Muslims have travelIed from this' - and 1 point to\vard the books the shclve:; -'to our present misery and degradation.' 282

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soo,' answers the old , 'we ! reaping what we have sown. Onee we were great; and it was Islam that made us great. We were the bearers of message. As long as we remained faithful to that message, our hearts were inspired and mind5 umied; but as 50 as we forgot for what ends we had chosen the Almighty, we f. We travelled far away from tbls'- and the shayk/r repeats gesture toward the books -' cause we travelled far away from what { Prophet - God bless and give - taught us thirteen centurics ago .. .' 'And how goes { work l' inquires after ; for knows {! 1 engaged in studies connected with early Islamic hi5tory. '1 must confess, Shaykh, not well. 1 find rest in heart do know why. And so 1 taken again to wandering in the desert.' Ibn Bu)aybld 100k5 ! with sgl squinting > those wise, penetrating eyes - and twirls his. henna-dyed beard: ' m.ind will haveits due and the body will its ... Thou shouldst marry.' 1 kw, of course, that in Najd marriage is sidl { { for almost sort oi" perplexity, so 1 hold back laughter: , But; Shaykh, thou art well aware {! 1 married again only two years ago, and this year 50 has born 10 .' he old 5hrugs his shoulders: 'If 's i5 ! rest with his wife, stays ! m as . Thou dost not stay {! ! ... And, moreover, it has never yet hurt to wed second wife.' ( blmself, in spite of his 5eventy years, has three t present, and 1 told {! ( youngest , whom married only couple of months ago, is barely sixteen years old.) 'It ,' I'rejoin, 'that it doesn't hurt { take second wife; but what ofthe first wife? Does ! her hurt matter

son: if woman holds the whole of her man's hl;rt, will not think of, nor need, marrying another. But if his heart is ! entirely with - will she gain anything keeping m thus half-heartedly { herself alone l' hece is certainly answer to that.Islam recnmmends, to

as~T
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l, single marriages, but allows to to four wives under exceptional circumstances. One nlight ask why the same latitude has not been given to woman as weU; but the answer is simple. Notwithstanding the spiritual fact of 10ve that has life in the course of man's development, the undcrlying bi%gica/ reason for the l urge is, in both sexes, procreation: and while woman , at , conceive child from nl and has to carry it for nine months fore she is to another, is so constituted that beget child time embraces woman. hus, while nature would merely wasteful produce l gam instinct in woman, man's undoubted polygamous ln clination i, from nature's point ofview, biologieaHy justified. It i, of course, vi that the biological factor is nl - and means a1ways the most important - of the aspects of love: the less, it is basic factor and, therefore, decisive in the social institution of marriage as such. With the wisdom that l ways takes human into account, Islamic Law under takes more th the safeguarding the socio-biological function - (which includes, of , for the progeny as well), allowing to marry more than one w and not aUowing woman to than husband at time; while the spiritual problem marriage, being impon derab~e and thereCore outside the purvi~w of law, is left to the discretidn of the partners. Whenever 10ve is [ and complete, the question of1inother marriage natura:Ily does not arise for either of them; whenever husband does not 10ve his w with Iill his heart but still well enough not to want to 10seher, .take another w, provided the first is agreeable to thus sba!ing his affection; and if she cannot agree to tms, she tain and is free to remarry. In case - since maia in Islam is not sacrament but civil contract - re se to is always open to either of the marriage part DeI'S, the so as the stigma wch elsewhere attaches to divorce with greater or lesser intensity is absent in Muslim society (with the possible exception the Indian Muslims, who have influenced in this respect centuries of contact with Hindu society, in wblch divorce is utterly forbidden). .he freedom wblch Islamic Law accords to both men and women tocontract or dissolve marriage explains why it

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siders adultery of the most heinous of crimes: for in the face of such latitude, emotional ! entanglement ever 5 excuse. lt is true that in the centuries of Muslim de cline, social custom 5 often made it difficult for woman to prerogative of divorce freely as tl1e Law-Giver had intended: for this, however, not Islam but custom is to - just as custom, and not Islamic Law, i5 { bIamed for {h 5eclu5ion in which woman has kept for so long in 50 Muslim countries: for neither in the in the life- . example of the Prophet do we find warrant for this , which later found its way into Muslim society from Byzantium.
SHAYKH IBN BULAYlD INTERRUPTS introspection wit~ knowing look: 'here is need to hurry decision. It wi1f

thee,

50,

whenever it is to

.'

-2 the old sllaykll and 1 alone in the domed . From little mosque we hear the to the prayer; and later the f the five minarets of the Prophet's Mosque which, now in vi5ibIe to , watch 50 501emnly and 50 fuH of sweet pride the green . mu'azzin ofthe minarets begins his : Allallu akbar ... in deep, dark, minor key, slowly as cending and descending in long arcs of sound: God is tlle Great , God is lhe Greatest ... Before he s finished this first phrase, the ' the minaret nearest us fs in, in 5ligbtly higher , ' .. the Greatest, God is tlle Greatest! And while tbe third minaret the same chant grows slowly, the first mu'azzin has already ended the first verse and begins - now accompanied the distant contrapuntal sounds of the first phrase from the fourth and fifth minaret5 - the 5econd ver5e: 1 )~'itness that tllere is God ut God! - \\'hj)e the voices from tbe second and tben from the third minaret glide down soft wings: ... and 1 'Ii'itness that Mulrammad is God'_" Messenger! In the same way, verse repeated twice of the v mu'azzins, the proceed5: to , to }'n. Hasten to e)'erlastil1g Iloppil1ess! Each of the voices seems { awaken the others and to d,'aw { closer together. only {
LIBRARY 15 . ,

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glide away itself and to take the melody at another point, tbus carrying it to the closing verse: God is the Greatest, God is the Greatest! is God but God! This sonorous, solemn ming1ing and parting of voices is un like other chant of . And as heart pounds to throat in excited love for this city and its sounds, 1 begin to (eel that ll wanderings have always had but meaning: to grasp the meamng of this ll ... ',' says Shaykh Ibn Bulayhid, 'Iet us go to thc mosquc for the maghrib .'
, HOL MOSQUE, Medina was brought

into its present shape in the middle of the last century, but parts . of it older - some dating back to the time of the ti Mamluk dynasty and some even earlier. The central ll, which contains the tomh of the Prophet, covers exactly the ground as the building erected the third Caliph, Uth , in the seventh century. Over it rises large green cupola, adomed its inner side with colourful ornamental painting. rows of heavy columns support the roof and har moniously divide the interior. marble ftoor is laid with costly .carpets. Exquisitely wrought nz candelabras flank of the three mi/zrabs, semicircular niches oriented toward and decorated with de1icate faience tiles in blue and white: of them is al\vays the place of the who leads the congre gation in . long chains hang hundred5 of glass and crystal gIobes; at night they lighted'from witn smaU lamps that fed with olive oil and spread 50ft 5himmer over the rows praying peopIe. During the day greenish twilight fills the mosque and makes it resemble the bottom of lakc; as through water figures glide bare feet over the carpets and matble slabs; as if separated walls ofwater the voice ofthe iman suds at the time of ( the end of the large ll. muffl.ed and without . Prophet's tomb itself is invisible, for it is covered with heavy brocade hangings and enclosed nz grill presented in the fifteenth century the Egyptian Mamluk sultan, Qa'it . In reality, there is tomb structure as such, for thc Pro phet was buried ud the earthen floor in the very room" of the

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little house in wblch he livoo and . I later times doorless wal1 was built around the house, thus entirely sealing it off from the outer worldJ During the rropheCs lifetime the mosque was immediately adjaceilt to his ; in the course of centuries, however, it was extended and beyond the tomb. Long rows of rugs are spread over the gravel of the quad .rang1e inside the mosque; rows of crouch them, reading the Koran, oonversing with other, meditating simply idling, in anticipation ofthe sunset , Ibn Bulayhid seems to lost in wordless prayer. From the distance comes voice reciting, as always before the sunset , portion ofthe Holy Book. Today it is the ninety sixth - the first ever revealed to Muhammad - beginning with the words: Read in the / thy Sustainer .. It was in these words that God's call Cor the first to mad in the of ira . had praying iri 50litude, as so often before, ptaying for light and truth, when suddenly angel appeared before him and commanded, 'Read!' And Muhammad, who, like of the people of his environment, had learned to read and, , did not know what it was was expected to read, answered: '1 cannot read.' Whereupon the angel took him and pressed m to himself50 that Muhammad felt " strength leave him; then released him and repeated his command: 'Read!' And again Muhammad replied: '1 read.' h the angeI pressed him again until limp and thought would die; and more the thundering voice: 'Read!' And when, for the third tirne, Muhammad whispered in his anguish, '1 cannot read ...' the angel released hirn and spoke: Read in tlle / thy Sustainer, Who created
- created /m germ-ce/l!
Read, and tllY Susta;ner is tlle most boulltiful:
who taught the use / the ,
Taugllt \vhat he knew not ...
And thus, with allusion to man's cOn5ciousness, intellect and knowledge, began ( revelation of the Koran, which was to continue for twenty-three years untiJ ( Prophet's death in edina at the age ! sixty-three. I

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bis story of his first experience of divine revelation reminds , in some ways, of Jacob's wrestling with the angel as narrated

in the Book ofGenesis. But whereas Jacob resisted, Muhammad sudred him5elf to the angel's embrace with awe and gs until 'll strength left ' and nothing remained in hirn but the> ability to listen to V'oice of which .on could longer say whether it from without from within. did not know yet that henceforth would to fu and empty at and the : being filled with urges and desires and the of 5 own - and, at the same time, passive instrument for the reception of Message. unseen book of Etemal Truth - the truth that alone gives ing to all perceptiblethings and happenings - was being laid bare before his heart, waiting to understood; and was told to 'read' of it to the world 50 that other might under stand 'what they knew not' and, indeed, could not kn{)W them selves. tremendous implications of this vision overwhelmed uhamid; , like Moses before the burning bush, thought himself unworthy of the exalted position of prophethood and trembled at the thought that God might selected hi. We told that went back to town and to his and called out to his wife hadija: 'Wrap , wrap !'- for was shaki,ng like branch in storm. And 5 wrapped him in .blanket, and gradually his trembling subsided. h ' told her what had to , and said: 'Verily, 1 fear fo~ myself'. But hadija, ,vith the clearsightedness that n1 love give, knew at that was afraid of the magnitude of the task fore hi; and she replied: 'No, God! Never will confer task thee which thou art unable to perform, and never will humiliate thee! For, behold, thou art good : thou ful fiest thy duties toward thy kin, and 5upportest the weak, and bringest gain to the destitute, and art generous toward the guest, and helpest those in genuine distress.' comfort him, she took her husband to Waraqa, leamed cousin ofhers who had Christian for years and, according to tradition, could read the Bible in Hebrew; at that time was old alld had 00 blind. And hadija said: ' uncle's son, hark to this thy kinsman!' And when Muhammad reooun~ed what had experienced, Waraqa raised his rs in awe and said: 'hat was

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the Angel of Revelation, the whom God had to is earlier prophets. , would 1 were young ! Would that 1 alive, a,nd to l thee when thy people drive thee away!' Whereupon Muhammad asked in astonishment: 'Why should [ drive away?' And [ wise Waraqa replied: 'Yes, they will. Never yet [ his people with the like thou hast with but was persecuted.' And persecute him they did, for thirteen years, untiI for sook and went to Medina. For the Meccans had always hard heart ...
UT, AFTER ALL, IS lT so difficult to understal1d the hard ness heart most of the Meccans displayed when they first heard Muhammad's ? Devoid of 11 spirituaI urges, [ knew practical endeavours: for they believed that life could widened on1y widening the means which outward comfort might increased. such people, the thought of having to surrender themselves without [ moral claim - for means, literaHy, 'self-surrender [ God'- well have seemed . In addition, the teaching Muhammad threatened the established order of things and the tribal conventions 50 dear to the Meccans. When started preaching the Oneness of God and denounced idol worship as the supreme sin, they saw in it not merely attack their traditional beliefs also tempt to the social of their lives. In particular, they did not like Islam's interference with what they regarded as purely 'mundane' issues outside the purview of religion -like economics, questions of socia;l equity, and people's behaviour in general - for this interference did ! agree weH with their business habits,. their licentiousness and their views about [ tribal goOO. them, religion was personal matter - question of attitude rather than of behaviour. Now this was the exact opposite of what tbe Arabian Prophet had in mind when spoke of religion. , social practices and institutions very within the orbit of religion, and would surely have astonished if had told him . that religion was matter of personal conscience alone and had nothing to do with social behaviour. It was this feature of his . message that,more than anything else, made it so distasteful [

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the ns. Had it not been for his interference with social problems, their displeasure with the Prophet might well less intense. Undoubtedly they \v()'uld have noyed Islam in so far as its theology conflicted with their own reJigious views; but most probably they \vould put with it after some initial grumbling - just as they had put , little earlier, with the sporadic preaching of Christianity - if only the Prophet had followed the l of the Christian priests and confined himselfto exhorting the l to believe in God, to to Him for salvation and to decently in their sonal concerns. But did follow the Christian l, and did not confine himself to questions of belief, ritual and ] morality. How cou!d ? Did his God command to pray: Lord, give tlle good o/tbls J..,orld J..,elJ the good / the Jvorld ( ? . In very structure of this Koranic sentence, 'the good of this world' is made to 'the good cf the world to ': firstly, because the present precedes the future and, secondly, because is so constituted that must seek the satisfaction his physical, ,...orldly needs before listen to the of the spirit and seek the good ofthe Hereafter. Muhammad's message did not postulate spirituality as something divorced from or posed to physicallife: it rested entirely the concept that spirit and flesh but different aspects of and the same reality life. In the nature things, therefore, could not . tent himse!f \vith merely nursing moral attitude in.individual persons but had to irn at r.ranslating this attitude into definite social scheme whicll would ensure to every the it the greatest possible measure physical and material well-being arid, thus, the greatest oppottunity for spiritual growth. began telling people that Actioll is / //aitll: for God is not merely concerned \vith person's beliefs but also ,vith his or her doings - especia!ly such doings as aft"ect other people sides ::slf. preached, \vith the most flarrung imagl:ry that God had put at his disposal, against the oppression the weak the strong. propounded the unheard-of thesis that and women \\'ere equa! before God and that religious duties and hopes applir;Q to both alike; \vent so far as to de clare, to the horror 11 right-rninded pagan Meccans, th.t

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woman was person in ; wn right, and ! merely virtue relationship with as mother, sister, w daughter, and that, therefore, she was entitled to wn property, to do business own and ( dispose own person in riage! condemned 11 games of and 11 forms in toxicants, , in the words ( , Great evil and advantage;s;n them, the evil;s greater 'n the advantage. .top it 1l, stood up against the traditiona1 exploitation ofan ; against profits from interest-earing loans, whatever the rate of interest; against private monopolies and 'comers'; against ig other people's potential needs - tbing we today Il 'speculation'; against judging right throuJh ( lens of triba1 group sentiment - in modem parlance, ' ionalism'. Indeed, denied morallegitimacy to triOOl feel ings and considerations. In his eyes, ( only legitimate - (! is, ethicalJy admissible - motive for l groupment was ! the accident of origin, but people's free, conscious of common outlook life and scale l values. In effect, the ! insisted thorough revision of l most Il the social concepts wblch until then had regarded as it, and thus, as would say today, 'brought religion into politics': quite revolutionary innovation in those times. he rulers of were convinced, as most people at times , (! ( social conventions, habits of thought and customs in wblch they had brought up were ( best that could ever conceived. NaturalJy, therefore, they resented the. Prophet's attempt ( bring religion into politics - that is, ( make God-consciousness the starting point of social - and detIred it as immoral, seditious and 'opposed to 11 canons of propriety'..And when it evident that was ! dreamer but knew how ( inspire ( action, the defenders of the estabIished order resorted to vigorous tltti and to persecute and his follo\vers~ ... In way another, 11 prophets have challenged the 'estab lished order' of their times; is it tbert:fore 50 surprising that al most 11 ofthem were persecuted,and ridiculed their kinsfolk '1 - and that ( latest of (, Muhammad, is ridiculed in the West to this day?

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the maghrib prayer is over, Shaykh Ibn Bulayhid becomes the centre of attentive circle of Najdi beduins and townsmen desirous of profiting from his learning and world wisdom; wbllc himself is always eager to hear w}lat l t him of their experiences and travels in distant . Long travels nothing among the Najdis; they themselves ahl aS/l-shidd -'l ofthe camel-saddle'-and to of them the camel-saddle is indeed familiar than bed at . It must certainly more familiar to the ! Harb beduin who has just finished recounting to the shaykh what befell bls recentjoumey to Iraq, where has seen, for the firsL tim, faraji l - that is, Europeans (who owe this designation to the Franks with whom the Arabs in contact during the Crusades). ' , Shaykh, why is it that thefaral1jis al\vays wear hats that shade their eyes? J-Iow they seethe sky?' 'That is just what they do ! want { see,' replies { s/laykh, with twinkle in direction.'Perhaps they afraid lest { sight of the heavens remind them of God; and they do ! want { reminded of God weekdays ...' We lugh, the young beduin is persistent in his search for knowledge. ' \ is it {! God is so bountiful toward { and gives { riches that denies { { Faithful?' ', that is simple, son. worship gold, and so their deity is in their pockets ... friend here,'- and plaees bls hand knee -'knows more about thefaranjis { 1 do, RJr - them: God, glorified His , has led ou! of {! darkness into { light of Islam.' .!Is tliat so, brother?' asks { eager ! beduin. 'ls it true that { s! farallji thyself?'- and when 1 nod, wblspers, 'Pr~lise unto God, praise unto God, who guid aright whomsoever \vishes ... Tell , brother" why is it. that { faranjis are so urtmindful God ?' '! is 10ng story,' 1 reply, 'and t explained in fe\v \vords. that 1 t { no\v is {! { \\ld of { faranjis has the world of the Dajja/, { Glittering, { Deceptive . Hast { ever heard of our l Prophet's pre diction that in latertimes ,most of the world's l \vould fol low the Do.jja/, believing him to God?'
AS

As

--

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And as looks at with question in his , 1recount, { the visible approval of Shaykh Ibn Butayhid, the prophecy about { of that apocalyptic being, the Dajja/, \ would blind in but endowed with mysterious powers.con ferred God. would hear with his ears what is spoken in the farthest corners of the earth, and would see with his one things that are happening in infin.ite distances; would fly around the earth in days, would make treasures of gold and silver suddenly from under ground, would cause rain to [ and plants to grow at his command, would kill and bring to life again: so that 1l whose faith is weak would believe him to God Himself and would prostrate themselves before himjn adoration. But those whose faith is strong would . what is written in letters of flame his forehead: Denier ofGod - and thus they would know that is but deception to test man's faith ... And while . friend 100ks at with wide-open eyes and murmurs, '1 take refuge with God,' 1turn to Ibn Bulayhid: 'Is not this'parable, Shaykh, fitting description of modern technical civi1ization? It is "one-eyed": that is, it 100ks upon only one side life - material progress - and is unaware its spiritual side. With the help its mechanical marvels it enables man to see and hear far beyond his natural ability, and to cover .endless distances an inconceivable speed. Its scientific know ledge causes "rain to fall and plants grow" and uncovers suspected treasures beneath the ground. Its medicine brings life to those who seem to doomed to death, \l its wars and scientific horrors destroy life. And its material ad vancement is so powerful and so glittering that the weak in faith are coming to believe that it is godhead in its own right; but those who remained conscious of their Creator clearly recognize that to \vorship the Da.ua/ means { deny God .. .' ~ 'Thou art right, Muhammad, thou art right!' cries out Ibn Bulayhid, excitedly striking knee. 'It has never occurred to . to 100k upon the Dajja/ prophe-cy in this light; ! thou art right! Instead realizing that man's advancement and the pro gress science is bounty from our Lord, or and more people in their f are beginning { think that it is cnd in itself and fit to worshipped.'

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YES, 1 TlNK MYSELf, Western has truly given him self up to the w6rship of the Dajjal. has 10 lost 11 in , ll inner integration with . Life has puzzle to him. is sceptical, and therefore isolated from his brother and lonely within himself. In order not to perish in this loneliness, must endeavour to dominate life outward means. he fact of being aHve , itself, longer give security: must always wrestle for it, with pain, from moment to new moment. Because has lost metaphysical orientation, and hasdecided to do without it, must continu ously invent for himself mechanical a1lies: and thus the furious, desperate drive ofhis technique. invents every day new ines and gives ot' them something of his soul to make them ! for his existence. hat they do indted; but at the same time they create for ever new needs, \ dangers new fears - and unquenchable thirst , yet artificia1 allies. is soul loses itself in the ever bolder, ever fantastic, ever more po\\'erful \vheelwork the creative : and the machine loses its true purpose - to protector and enrich~r of u life - evolves into deity in its \ right, ~ devouring l of steel. he priests preachers th1s insatiable deity do seem to aware tl18t the rapidity of modern tech nical progress is result not only positive growth of know ledge but also of spiritual despair, and that the grand material achievements in the light of which Western proclaims his \ to attain to mastery nature , in their innermost, of defensive character: behind their shining fa9ades lurks the fear of the Unknown. \Vcstern civilization has ! to strike harmonious . balance bet\veen man's bodily and social needs and his spiritual cravings; it has abandoned its erstwhile religious ethics without being to produce out itself other l system, how ever tbeoretical, that \vould itself to reason. Despite its advances in education, it has not to overcome 's stupid readincss to faH to slogan, however absurd, which clever dcmagogues think fit to invent. 1t has raised the technique of 'organizatiol1' to fine art - and nevertheless the nations the West daily demonstrate their u inabiJity to control the forces \vhich their scientists rou into being, and have now reached stage \\'here apparently unbounded

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scientific possibilities go hand j.. 1tand with world-wide chaos. Lacking truly religicus ation, the Westerner cannot mora11y benefit th(, /lght of . knowledge which his - doubtedly great - is shedding. might appHed the words of the :
Tlleir is Ille / people >/lO lit fire: ! }Vllen it llOd its ligllt tllem, God took ' tlleir light and '/! in darkness Ivllicll tlley - deaf, dumb, hlind: ond : tlle)' do ! back.

Andyet, in the ! ."ogance of their blindness, the l the . \Vest convinced tlt it is rlleir civilization that \ill bring light and happiness ( the ..vorld ... In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries they thougt:t of spreading the gospel of Christianity over the world; but now that their religious ardour has cooled 50 much that ( consider religion more than soothing ground music - allowed to , but not to influence, 'real' life - they have begun to instead the materialistic gospel of the 'Western way of life': the belief that 11 problems solved in [, laboratories and the desk5 of statisticians. And thus the Dajjal has into his own ...

-4 there is silence. Then the slzaykll speaks again: 'Was it the realization ofwhat the Dajjal that made thee embrace Islam, 1' 'In \, 1 think, it must have ; but it was n1 the last
. LONG TIME
.'

'The kst step ... es: thou hast told the story of thy way ( Islam - but when and how, exactly, did it first dawn thee that Islam migl1t thy goat .. 'When? Let see ... 1 think it was ~vinter day in Afghanistan, when horse lost shoe and 1 hadto seek out smith in viJIage that ] off path; and there told , "But thou art usli, only thou dost not kno\v it thyself ..." That was about eight months before 1 embraced Islam ... 1 was my w3.y from Herat to l .. .'

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1 WAS ON WAY fromHerat to Kabul and was riding. companied Ibrahim and Afghan trooper, through the snow buried mountain valleys and passes of the Hindu-Kush, in tral Afghanistan. It was cold and the snow was glistening and sides stood steep mountains in black and white. 1 was sad and, at the same time, strangely that day. 1 was sad because the people with whom 1 had living during { past fcw months seemed to separated opaque veilsfrom the light and the strength and the growth which their faith could have givcn them; and 1 was because the light and the strength and the growth of that faith stood as near eyes as the black and wblte mountains - almost to touched wi1h the hand. horse began to limp and sometblng clinked at its hoof: iron shoe had 100se and was hanging only two nails. 6Is ( viJIage nearby \ we could find smith ?' 1 asked Afghan ni. 6, villageof Deh-zangi is less than league away. is blacksmith there and the /lOkim ofthe Hazarajat has his castle there.' And so to Deh-zangi we rode over glistening snow, slowly, so as 1 to tire horse. /rakim, districtgovemor, was young of short stature and gay countenance - friendly who \vas glad to foreign guest in the loneliness of his modest castle. Though close relative of ing Amanullah, was of the most unassuming 1 had met \vas ever to meet in Afghan istan. forced to stay with for two days. Jn the evening the second day we sat down as usual to opulent dinner, and afterward the villageentertained us with ballad$ sung to the accompaniment of three-stringed lute. sang in Pashtu - language which 1did not understand - but the Persian words used sprang \jvidJy against the background ofthe warm, carpeted room and { cold gl of snowthat through the windo\vs. sang. 1 , of David's fight with Goliath - of the fight of [ against brute power - and although 1 could not quite follow the words of the song, Hs theme was clear to as it began in humility, then rose in violent ascent passion to final. triumphant oJtcy.

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When it ended, the hakim remarked: 'David was small, 5 faith was great .. . ' .

1 could not prevent myselffromadding: 'And you , but your faith is small.' host looked at with , and, embarrassed what 1 had almost involuntarily said, 1 rapidIy began to plain myself. expIanation took the shape of torrent of questions: 'w has it about that Muslims have lost your seIf confidence - that 5eIf-fidn \ you to your faith, in less than hundred years, from Arabia westward as far as the Atlantic and eastward deep into China and now surrender yourselves 80 , 50 weakly, to the thoughts and of the West '! Why can't , whose fathers ilIumined the world with science and art at time when lay in deep barbarism and ignorance, summon forth the courage to go back to your own progressive, radiant faith 1 \v is it that Ataturk, that masquerader who denics value to IsIam, has to Muslims symbol of' "Muslim vivial" l' host remained speechIess. lt had started to sno\v outside. Again 1 feIt that wave of mingled and happiness that I had felt approaching Deh-Zangi. 1 sensed the glory that had and the shame that was enveloping these late sons of great civilization. 'll - \ has it about that the faith your phet and 11 its clearness and simplicity has buried beneath rubble steri1e speculation and the hair-splitting your scholastics1 How has it happened that your princes and great land-owners revel in wealth and luxury while 50 their Muslim brethren subsi5t in unspeakable poverty and squalour although your Prophet taught that No n m blmself
Faitliful \~'IIO eats bls filllll!lile bls /leighbour remainS/lungry?
make

understand why brushed woman into the background ofyour lives - although the'women around the Pro phet and his Companions took part in so grand manner in the Hfe their ? w has it about that so you Muslims are ignorant and so fe\v read and \vrite although yopr Prophet declared that St/'Mng after kno\vledge is most sacred duty -' \' Afllslim /l m! 'mm! and thal

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he superiority / the leamed over the is like the / the \1:hen it is/ull overall other stars ?' Still host stared at without speaking, and 1 began to think that outburst had deeply offended . he with

the lute, not understanding l iC>rsian well enough to fol1ow , looked in \vdnt at the sight ofthe stranger who spoke with so passion to the /lQkim. In the end, the latter pulled his wide yellow sheepskin cloak closer about himself, as if feeling cold; then whispered: 'But - are Muslim .. .' 1 laughed, and replied: 'No, ] not Muslim, but 1 have to see so beauty in Islam that it makes sometimes angry to watch l waste it ... Forgive if 1 have spoken harshly. ] did not speak as .' But host shook his head. 'No, it is as 1 have said: are Muslim, l don't know it yourself ... Why don't say, now and here, "There is God but God and Muhammad is is Prophet" and Muslim in fact, as already are in heart 1 Say it brother ~ say it now, and 1 will go with to morrow to l and take to the amir, and will receive with arms as us. will give houses and gardens and cattle, and we \villlove , Say it, brother ...' 'Jf 1 ever do say jt, it will because mind has set at rest and for the sake the amir's houses and gardens.' 'But,' insisted, ' already know far more about Islam than most of us; what is it that not yet understood l' '11 is not question ofunderstanding. It is rather question of being convinced: convinced that the Koran is really the word of God and not merely the brilliant creation of great mind .. .' But the words of Afghan friend never really left in the months that followed. From l 1 rode for weeks through southern Afgbanistan ..,. through the ancient city Ghazni, from \ nearly thou.. sand years ago the great Mahmud set out his conquest of India; through exotic Kandahar, where could see tbe fiercest \varrior-tribesmen in 11 the world; across the deserts of Afghan istan's south\vestern rn; and b:1ck to Herat, where A[gl1an trek 11ad started. It was in 1926, toward the end of the \vinter, that lleft Herat

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the first stage of 1 homeward journey, wblch was to take train from the Afghan border to Marv in Russian Turkestan, to Samarkand, Bokhara and Tashkent, and thence across the Turkoman steppes to the Urals and Moscow. ! (and most lasting) impression of Soviet Russia - ! the railway station of Marv - was , beautifully executed poster which depicted proletarian in overalls boot ing ridiculous, white-bearded gentleman, clad in flowing robes, of cloud-fiUd sky. Russial1 legend beneath the poster read: 'Thus the workers ofthe Soviet Union kicked God of his ! Issued the Bezbozhniki (Godless) Association of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.' Such officially sanctioned antireligious propaganda obtruded itself everywhere went: in public buildings, in the streets and, preferably, in the vicinity of houses of worship. In Turkestan these were, naturally, for the most part mosques. While prayer congregations were ! explicity forbidden, the authorities diJ everything to deter l [ attending them. 1 was often told, especial1y in and Tashkent, that police spies would take down the of person who entered mosque ~ copies of the were being impounded and destroyed; and favourite pastime of the un bezboz}lIliki was to throw heads of pigs in to mosques; truly charming custom. It was with feeling of reHefthat 1 crossed the lis frontier after weeks ofjoumeying through Asiatic and European Russia. 1 went straight to Frankfurt and made in the now familiar precincts of newspaper. It did not take long to find out that during absence had famous, and that 1 was now considered of the most outstanding foreign correspondents of Central Europe. Some of articles especially those dealing with the intricate religious psychology of the Iranians - had to the attention ofprominent orientalist scholars and received more than passing recognition. the strength of this achievement, 1 was invited to deliv~r series of lectures ! . Academy of Geopolitics in Berlin - where 1 was told that it had never happened before that of (1 was 1 yet 1wenty-six) had accorded such distinctioll. Other articles of more general interest had reproduced, with the permission of the Erankfurter Zeitung, other ne\vs papers; oQe article, 1 learned, had been reprinted nearly thirty

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in

Iranian wanderings had

tJ

fruitful ...
WAS TIS that 1 married Elsa. two years 1 had a\vay [rom had not weakened our love but rather strengthened it, and it was with happiness 1 had nevcr felt before that 1 brushed aside her apprehensions about the great difference in our ages. 'But ho\v marry ?' she argued. ' are not yet twenty-six, and 1 over forty. 11Unk of it: when w thirty, 1 will forty:five; and when \vill forty, 1 will old woman ...' 1 laughed; 'What does it matter? 1 cannot igi future without .' d finally she gave in. 1 did not exaggerate when 1 said that 1 could not imagine future without Elsa. beauty and her instinctive grace made her so utterly attractive to that 1 could not even look at other woman; and her sensitive understanding,of what 1 wanted oflife illumined own hopes and desires made them concrete, graspabIe than own thinking could ever have done. occasion - it must have about week after we had married - she remarked: 'w strange that , of alJ people, should depreciate mysticism in religion ... are mystic yourself - sensuous kind of mystic, reaching out with your fingertips toward the around , seeing intricate, mystical pattern in everyday things - in m things that to other people so commonplace ... the moment turn to religion, brain. With most people it would the other way around .. .' EIsa \vas puzzled. She knew what 1 was search ing for whcn 1 spoke to her of Islam; and although she not have felt the same urgency as 1 did, her love made her share quest. Often we would read the Koran together and discuss its ideas; and Elsa, like myself, more and more impressed the inner cohesion between its moral teaching and its practical guid . Acc"rding to the Koran, God did not for blind sub

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servience tbe part of but ratber appealed to bis intellect; not stand apart ( man's destiny but was nearerto than tl,e vein in u, ; did not draw dividing line tween faith and social behaviour; and, what was perhaps most important, did not start from the that Hfe was burdened with ict between matter and spirit and that tbe way toward the Light demanded freeing of the soul from the shackles of the esh. form of life-denial and self-mortifi cation had condemned the Propbet in sayings like hold, is notfor us,and i wor/d-renunciation in [10. he will to live was not only recognized as po5itive, fruitful in5tinct but was endowed with tbe sanctity of etblcal as'well. was taught, in effect: not only utilize your to the fuH, but are obliged to do 50. integrated image of Islam was now emerging with finality, decisivene5s that astounded . It was taking shape that could almost described as kind of mental osmosis - tbat is, without conscious etort to piece together and 'systeatize' the fragments of knowledge that had way during the past four years. 1 saw before something like perfect work of architecture, witb its elements harmoniously conceived to complement and support other, with notbing superfluous and notbing lack ing - balance and composure wbich gave the feeling that everytbing in the outlook and postulates of Islam was 'in its
d la'.

Tbirteen centuries ago had stood and said, '1 only mortal ; but who has created the universe :: bid den to His Message to . In order that might live in brm witb the plan of His ereation, Hehas manded to remind His existence, <?mnipotence and omniscience,and to place before programme ofbehaviour. 'If accept tbis reminder and this programme, follow .' bis was the essence of Mubamrnad's prophetic mission: he social scheme propounded was ofthat simplicity wbich goes to~ther onfy with real grandeur. 11 started from the pre Jis th?f men are biological beings with biological needs and are 80 condltioned tbeir Creator that they must 1ive in groups iti order to satisfy tbe fu range of tbeir physical, moral and in tellectual requirements-: in short, tJl1ey are dependent

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other. he continuity of individual's rise in spiritual stature (the fundamental objective ofevery religion) depends whether is helped, encouraged and protected the people around him - who, of course, expect the same co-operation from him. his was the reason why in Islam religion could separated from economics politics. arrange practical n relations in such way that every individual might find as few obstacles and as m encouragement as sibIe in the development of his personality: this, and nothing else, appeared to the Islamic concept of the true function of society. And so it was nl natural that the system which { Prophet Muhammad enunciated in the twenty-three years of bis ministry related not only to matters spiritual but provided framework foraH individual and social acitivity as weH. It held out the concept not only of individual righteousness but also of the equitabIe society wblch such righteousness should bring about. It provided the outline of poHticalcommunity - the only, because the details of man's political needs time bound and therefore variable - as weH as scheme of individual rights and social duties in which the fact of historical evolution was dulyanticipated. Islamic code embraced life in its aspects, moral and physical, individual and communal; prob lems of the flesh and of th~ mind, of sex and economics had, side side with problems of theology and \vorship, their legiti mate place in the Prophet's teach.ings, and nothing that tained to life seemed too trivial to drawn into the orbit religious thought- not even such 'mundane' issues as merce, inheritance, property rights or ownership of land. All the claus~s of Islamic Law were devised for the equal benefit members ofthe community, without distinetion birth, race, sex or previous social aHegiance. No special benefits were reserved for { community's founder or his descendants. High and low were, in social sense, nonexistent terms; and nonexistent was the concept of class. 1I rights, duties opportunities applied equally to \vho professed faith in Islam. No priest was required to mediate between and God, for knmvs }vhat lies 1l in tlleir hands before them and }vhar they conceal beblnd their backs. No loyalty wasrecognized yond the loyalty to God and His Prophet, to one's parents, and to the community that had :; its gl the stblisht God's

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kingdom carth; and tOO precluded that kind loyalty which says, 'right or wrong, eountry' or ' '. elucidate this principle, the Prophet pointedly said than occasion: is nl / us who proclaims tl,e / triha[ parti sa"ship; and /le is not / us \\'ho fig!lts in the / triha[ parti sallsl,ip; and he is not / us ,,'110 dies / tl,e sake / tribal parti
GQslli.

Before Islam, political organizations - those theocratic semi-theoeratic basis - had limited the narrow concepts oftribe and triba} homogeneity. ', the god kings of ancient Egypt had thought beyond the zon ef the Nile and its inhabitants, and in the early theocratic state of Hebrews, when God was supposed to rule, it was sarily the God of the Children of Israel. In the str Koranie ught, the other hand, eonsiderations of descent tribal adherence had , Islam postulated self-contained political community which cut across the conventional divisions oftribe and , In tbls respeet, Islam and Christianity might said to had the same aim: both advocated international community of people united their adherence to common ideal; but whereas Christianity had contented itselfwith moral adv.ocacy oftbls principle and, advising its fo11owers to give his due, had restricted its universal appeal to the spiritual sphere, Isla unfolded before the world the vision political organization in which God-consciousness would the mainspring of .' practical behaviour and the sole basis of soeial institutions. hus - fulfil1ing what Christianity had left unfulfi.l1ed - Islam inaugurated new chapter in the develop ment of m: the first instance of , ideoJogical society in contrast with the closed, racial1y or geographical1y limited, societies of th.e past. he message of Islam envisaged and brought to civiliza tion in wblch there was for nationalism, 'vested in terests', class divisions, Church, priesthocJ, heredi tary nobility; in fact, hereditary functions at . he i was to establish theocracy with regard to God and democracy tween 1nan. he most important feature of that new civilization - feature which set it entirely apart frcm 11 other movements in human history - was the faet that it had ceived in terms of, and arose f, voluntary agreement ofthe

people concerned. , socia1progress was not, as in all other communities and civiJizations knwn to bistory. result ofpres sure and counterpressure ! conflieting interests, but part and parcel ! original 'constitution. In other words, genuine social contract lay at the root things: not as figure of speech fnlated later generations , power-holders in defence their priviJeges, but as the real, historic source of Islamic civili zation. he Koran said: Behold, God has bought / the Faith/ul their persons and their possessions, o.ffering them Paradise in . . . Rejoice, then,in the bargain have made,jor this ;s the triumph supreme. 1 kn~w that this 'triumph supreme'- the instance real social contract recorded OOtory..., was realized onIy during short period; , rather, ] during very short od was large-scalft attempt made to realize it. Less than century after the Prophet's death, the political form ofpristine Islam began to corrupted and, in the following centuries, the original gramn1e was gradually pushed.into the background. 1nis wranglings for power took the place free agreement of frec and women; hereditary kingship, as inimica1 to the political oflslam as polytheism is to its theological concept, soon into being - and with it, dynastic struggles and intrigues, tribal preferences and oppressions, and the usual degradation of religion to the status of handmaiden political power: in short, the entire host 'vested interests' so well known to 00 tory. For , the great thinkers oflslam tried to keep its true ideology aloft and ; but those who after them were of ]esser stature and lapsed after two or three ce'nturies into ass of intellectual , ceased to think Cor themselves and became content to repeat the dead phrases of earlier generations - forgetting that every ini is time-bound and fallible and therefore in need eternal renewa1. he original impetus of Islam, so tremendous in its beginnings, sufficed for while to carry the Muslim commonwealth to great cultural heights - to that splendid vision of scientific, literary and artistic achievement which historians describe as the Golden Age oflslam; but within few r centuries this impetus 150 died down for want of spiritual nourishment, and Muslim civilization more and more stagnant and devoid of creative power.

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1 HAD NO ILLUSIONS as to the present state of affairs in the

Mus1imworld. four years 1 had spent in those countries had shown that wblle Islam was still aHve, pereeptible in the world-view of 1ts adherents and in their silent admission of its ethieal , l themselves were 1ikepeople paralyzed, to translate their beliefs into fruitful aetion. But what cerned than the faHure of present-day Muslims to im plement the scheme of Islam were the potentialities of that sh itself. It was suffieient for to know that [ short , quite at the beginning of Islamic history, successful tempt /lad made to translate that scheme into practice; and wha. had seemed possible ! time might perhaps really possibIe at another. What did it matter, 1 told myself, that the Muslims llad gone astray from the original teaching and sub sided into indolence and ignorance? What did it matter that they did not live to the ideal placed before ( the Arabial1 Prophet thirteen centuries ago - if the ideal itself st lay to all who were willing to listen to its message? And it might well , 1 thought, that we latecomers needed that message even desperately than did the people Muhammad's time. hey lived in environment muehsimpler than , and so their problems and diffieulties bad easier of solution. world in which 1 was living - the who!e of it - was wobbling because of the absence of agreement as to what is good and evil spiritually , therefore, soeially and nomieally as v.'ell. 1 did ! belieye that individual was in of 'salvation': but 1 did believe that modern soeiety was in need of salvation. More than previous time, 1 felt with untin certainty, tbls time of ours was in need of ideo logical basis for new soeial eontract: it needed faith that would make us understand the hollowness of materia1 progress for the sake of progress alone - and nevertheless wou1d give the lif of tbls world its due; that would show us how to strike balance between spiritual and physical requirements: and thus save us from the disaster into whieh we were rushing head long.
IT WOULD NOT too to say that at this period of lif ~ problem ofIslam - for it was problem to - occupied

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mind to the exclusion everytblng else. now absorp tion had outgrown its initial stages, when it had more intellectual intere5t in strange, if attractive, ideology and culture: it had passionate search for truth. pared \vith-tbls search, the adventurous excitement of the last two years oftravel paJed into insignificance: so much 50 that it difficult for to concentrate ' writing the new book wblch the editor of the FrollkjuIter Zeitung was entitled 10 peet ofme. At first Dr Simon viewed indulgently my-.obvious reluctance to proceed with tbls book. Mter , 1 had jU5t returned from 10ngjourney and deserved some sort of holiday; recent mar riage seemed also to warrant respite from the routine writing. But \ the holiday and the respite began to extend be~ yond what Dr Simon regarded as reasonabIe, suggested that 1 should now down to earth. In retrospect, it seems to that was understanding; but it did not so at the time. His frequent and urgent in quiries about the progress ' book' had effectcontrary to what intended: 1 felt myself unduly imposed upon; and I.be gan to detest the very thought ofthe book. 1was more concerned with what 1 had still to discover than with describing what 1 had found so far. In the end, Dr Simon made the exasperated : '1 don't think will ever write this book. What ;uffering f is horror /ibri.' Somewnat nettled, 1 replied: ' disease is more serious than that. Perhaps 1 suffering f 110 scribendi.' 'Well, if you're suffering from that,' retorted sharply, 'do think the Fronkfurtei Zeitwlg is the proper place for you l' word led to another. and our disagreement grew into quarre1. the same day 1 resigned from the FrallkjuI'tei' Zeitung and week later left with Elsa for Berlin. 1 did not, of course, intend to give up journalism, for, apart from the comfortable livelihood and the pleasure (temporarily marred 'the book') which writing gave , it provided with only means of returning to the Muslim world: and to the Muslim \\'orld 1 wanted to tul' at cost. But \vith the reputation 1 had a,bleved over the past four years, it was not difficultto make new press connections. soon after break

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with Frankfurt, 1 conc]uded blghly satisfaetory agreements with three other newspapers: the u ZurcherZeilung of Zurich, the Telegraa.f of Amsterdam and the KOlnische Zeitung of Cologne. From now artic]es the Middle East were to sy:li cated these three newspapcrs, wblch - though perhaps not with the Frankfurter Zit1g - were among the most important in . the time being Elsa 1 settled down in , where 1 intended to complete series of lectures at the Academy of Geopolitics and also to Is]amic studies. old literary friends were g]ad to see back, but somehow it was not easy to take up the threads \lf former relations at the point \ they had left dangling when 1 went to the Midd]e East. We had gfown estranged; we loflger spoke the same intellectua] language. In , from friends cou]d 1 e]icit anytblng like understanding for occupation with Islam. Almost to they shook their heads in pozzlement when 1 tried to expiain them that Islam, as inteHectual and social concept, cou]d favourabIy with . other ideo]ogy. Although occasion they might concede the reasonabIeness of this . that Is]amic proposition, most of them were ofthe opinion that the oId reIigion5 were thing ofthe past, and that time demanded new,'humanistic' . But even those who didnot so sweepingly d~ny validity to in stitutiona] reJigion were means disposed to give the Westem notion that Islarn, being over]y concerned with mundane matters, ]acked the 'myStique' which had right to expect from reIigion. It rather surprised to discover that the very aspect Islam wblch had attracted in the first instance - the absence of division of reality into physical and spiritual compartments and the stress reason as way to faith - appealed 50 Iittle to in teJlectua]s who otherwise were wont to claim for reason domi nant role in Hfe: it was in the religious sphere alone that they in stinctiveIy receded from their habituaIIy so 'rationaI" and 'real istic' position. And i~ tbls respect 1 could discem difference whatever between those few of friends who were reJigious]y inclined and the to whom reJigion had ceased to than outmoded convention. In time, however, 1 to understand where their difficuIty

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lay. 1 began to perceive that in the eyes of people brought up within the orbit of Christian thought - with its stress the 'supernatural' allegedly inherent in every true religious - predominantly ! approach appeared to de tract from religion's spiritual value. This attitude was means confined to believing Christians. Because of Europe's long, almost exclusive association with Christianity, even the agnos'ic European had subconsciously [ to look upon ll religicus experience through the lens of Christian concepts, and would regard it as 'valid' on1y ifit was accompanied thrill of numinous awe before things hidden and beyond intellectual comprehension. Islam did not fulfill this requirement: it insisted co-ordination of the physical and spiritual aspects of perfectly naturaI plane. In fact, its world-view was so different fromthe Christian, which most ofthe West's ethicaI were based, that to accept the validity of the inescapabIy Ied to questioning the validity of the other. As for myself, 1 knew now that 1 was being driven to Islam; but last hesitancy made postpone the final, irrevocabIe step. he thought of embracing Islam was 1ike the prospect of venturing out onto bridge that spanned abyss between two different worlds: bridge so long that would have to reach the in! of retum before the other end visibIe. 1 was well aware that if 1 Muslim 1 wpuld have to cut myself off from the world in which 1 had grown up. No other outcome was possibIe. cou1d not really follow the ll of Muhammad and still maintain one's inner links with. society that was ruIed diametrically opposed concepts. But - }vas Islam truly mes sage /m God merely the )visdom / great, but /lli, ? it was in September 1926- EIsa and 1 found our se1ves travelIing in the Berlin subway. It \vasan upper-c1ass partment. fell casually well-dressed opposite , apparentIy wellto-do businessman, with beautifuI brief case his knees and Iarge diamond ring bls hand. 1 thought idly how well the port1yfigure of this man fitted into the picture of prosperity \vhich one encountered everywhere in Cen tral Europe in those days: prosperity the more prominent as it
ONE DAY -

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had after years of inflation. when 11 economic life had been topsy-turvy and shabbiness of appearance the rule..Most of

the people were now we11 dressed and we11 fed. and the opposite was therefore exception. But when 1 looked at his face. 1 did not seem to looking at face. peared to worried: and not merely \vorried but acute}y , with staring vacantly ahead and the comers of his mouth drawn in as if in pain - but not in bodily pain. Not wallt ing , I1umed eyesaway and saw next to lady of some elegance. She also had strangely unhappy expression her face, as if contemplating or experiencing sometblng that caused her in; nevertheless, her mouth was fixed in the' sti1T semblance of smile wblch, 1 was certain, 'must have habit ual. And then 1 began to look around at 11 the other faces in the compartment - faces belonging without exception to we11 dressed, we11-fed people: and in almost every of them 1 could discem expression of hidden suffering, so hidden that the owner of the face seemed to quite unaware of it. bis was indeedstrange. 1 had never before seen so happy facesaround : or was it perhaps that 1 had never before looked for what was now so loudly speaking in them? he im pression was so strong that 1 mentioned it to Elsa; and she too began to look around her with the careful eyes of painter customed to study features. hen she turned to , astonish~d, and said: 'ou are right. They 11 look as though they were suffering torments of 11 ... 1 wonder. do they know themselves what is going in them?' 1 knew that they did not - for otherwise they could not go wasting their lives as they did, without faith in binding truths, without goal beyond the desire to raise their 'own 'standard of living', without any other than having more material amenities, more gadgets, and perhaps more power ... When wereturned home, 1 happened to glance at desk wblch lay of the Koran 1 had reading li. Mechanically, 1 picked the book up ( put it a\vay. ~t11 i!1~t " 1 was about to close it, ll the I1 ." ~f()re , and 1 read:
u obsessed greed for and Until u godoMm 10 Il gra,es.

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. but wil/ to know! . but will to knoK'! . if but kneJv it \vith the kn()w/edge / ,
u would indeed the hell in. /n , indeed. 3/1011 it \vith the / : And that Day ' asked K'/lat /lave dol:e \vith the n / /ife.

For moment 1 was speechless. 1 think the book shook in hands. h 1 handed it to Elsa. 'Read this. Is it not answer to what we saw in the subway?' It was answer: answer so decisive that all doubt was sud denly at end. 1 knew now, beyond doubt, that it was God-inspire<\ book 1 was holding in hand: for although it had placed beforeman over thirteen centuries ago, it clearly anticipated something that could have true only in this comp1icated, mechanized, - age of ours. At l1 times people had known greed: but at time before this had greed outgrown mere eagerness to acquire things and obsession that blurred the sight of everything else: irresistible craving to get, to do, to contrive more and more more today than yesterday, and more tomorrow than today: demoJ} riding the necks of and whipping their hearts for wd toward goals that tauntingly g1itter in the distance but dis solve contemptible nothingness as soon as they reached, always holding out the promise of Ilew goals ahead - goals still more brilJiant, more tempting as 10ng as they lie the , and bound to wither into further nothingness as soon as they within grasp: and that hunger, tha~ insatiable hunger for ever new goals gnawing at man's soul: Nay, ifyou but kn' it u \j'ould see the Jlell u ill ... his, 1 saw, was oot the mere human wisdom of of distant past in distant Arabia. However wise have , such could not himself have foreseert the t<Jrment so peculi'ar to this twentieth century. Out of tht: Koran spoke voice greater than the voice of Muhammad ...
DARKNESS HAS FALLEN

-5 over the cOU1"tyard ofthc Prophet's Mosque, broken through only the oi11amps which are sus pcndcd long chains bet\veen the pillars oft11e arcadcs. Shaykh

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AbduUahibn Bulayhid sits with bls head sunk low over his chest and his closed. who does not ,kno\v n1ight think that has [ asleep; but 1 know that has listening to narrative with deep absorption, trying to fit it into the pattern of his own wide of and theirhearts. After long'while raises his head and opens his eyes: 'And then? And what didst thou do then?' ' obvious thil1g, Shaykh. 1sought out Muslim friend.of mine, lndian who was at that time head of tl1e small usli community in Berlin, and told that 1 wanted to embrace Islam. stretched out his right hand toward , ar.d 1 placed mine in it and, in the oftwo witnesses, declared: "1 bear \vitness that there is God but God and that Muhammad is His Messenger."* few weeks later wife did the same.' 'And what did thy people say to that?' 'Well, they did not like it. When 1 informed father that 1 had Muslim, did not answer letter. Some months later sister wrote, telling that considered dead ... 1 sent another letter, assuring that of Islam did not change anything m attitude toward or love for ; that,.on the , Islam join~d upon to love and honour parents other people ... But this letter also remained unanswered.' 'hy father must indeed strongly attached to his religion... 'No, Shaykh, is ; and that js the strangest part of the sto]:)'. considers , 1 think, renegade, ' so much from his faith -(for tl1at has never held strongly) as from the munity in whichhe grew up and the culture to which is attached.' 'And has thou never seen since?' 'No. soon after our conversion, wife and 1 left Europe; we could not bear to remain there longer. And 1 never gone back ... 't
This declaralion faith is ' only 'ritual' necessary 10. Muslim. In Islam, ( terms 'Messenger' and 'Prophet' are interchangeable when applied ( major Prophets bearing new Messe, like m, Jesus, MQ5eS, Abra

t Our relalionship was reswned in ]935, aCter lh had ! lasl 10 understand apprecia.te ( reasons Cor my conversion ( lslam. Although we never et again in person, we remained in cODtinuous correspondence unlill942, when he and sister were deported Crom Vienna ' Nazis and subsequently died in coocentration .

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-1 the Prophet's Mosque, hand grips mine: and as 1tum head, 1 meet the kind old of Sidi Muhammad az-Zuwayy, the Sanusi. . ]\ ' , how glad 1 am see thee after ll these months. God bless thy step in the bIessed City of the Prophet .. .' Hand in hand, we walk slowly over the cobbled street leading from the sq to the main bazaar. 1 his \vhite North African , Sidi Muhammad is familiar figure in Medina, where has 1ivingfor years; and people interrupt our progress to greet with the respect due ! only to his seventy years but also to his [ as of the leaders of Libya's heroic fight for independence. '1 want thee to know, son, that Sayyid Ahmad is in Medina. is not in good health, and it \vould give much pleasure to see thee. How long wilt thou remain here?' 'nl until the day after tomorrow,' 1 reply, 'but 1 shall tainiy not leave \vithout seeing Sayyid Ahmad. J..et us go to now.' In the whole of Arabia there is whom 1 love better thi Sayyid Ahmad, for there is who has sacrificed hil self so wholly and so se1flessly for ideal. scholar and war , has devoted his entire life the spiritual revival of the Muslim comrnunity and to its struggle for political independence, knowing well that the brought about w"ithout the other. . How well 1 rememer first meeting \vith Sayyid Ahmad. ago, in ... the north the Holy City rises Mount Abu Qubays, the centre of ancient legends and traditions. From its summit, cro\\'ned small. \Vhite\vashed mosque with two 10wminarets. ~here is wondet'ful view down into the ll ofMecca with the
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square ofthe Mosque ofthe at its bo~tom and the colour ful. 100se amphitheatre of houses climbing ~p the naked. rocky s10pes sidts. little bel()w the sumimit of Mount Abu Qubays. l ofstone buildings hangs bver narrow terraces cluster of eag1es' nests: the seat of the Sanusi Fraternity. he old whom 1 met therei- exile to whom ways to his in Cyrenaica were l0sd after tblrty years' fight and his seven-year odyssey between thb lack Sea andthe mountains ofYemen - bore famous t~roughout the Iim world: Sayyid Ahmad, the Grand Sanusi f No other had caused so sleepless night to the l0l rulers of North . not even that of the great Abd a1-Q~ of Algeria in the nineteenthcentury, or ofthe Moroccan A~4 al-Karim who had been so powerful thom in the side Qfthe F~ench in more recent days. Those , however unforgettable to the Muslims. had nl political import - whi1eSayyid Aba~ and his Order had for years great spiritual powe~ as well. 1 was introduced to him Jvs friend Hajji Agos Salim. who held position of leadersblp in lndonesia's struggle for political emancipation and had tol pilgrim age. When Sayyid Ahmad lcamed that 1 wa~ recentconvert to Islam. stretched out his hand toward ~ and 5aid gently: 'Welcome amongthy , young ~rother ofmine .. .' Suffering was engraved the beautiful: brow of the aging fighter for faith and freedom. His face, withlits.little grey beard and sensua1ly-shrewd mouth between painfu~ grv. was tired; th~ lids f heavily overthe eyes and made m drowsy ~ the tone ofhis voice as 50ft and weighted witJJ. 50rrow. But some times it flared up in . he eyes assumed g1ittering sharp ness. the voice grew into resonance. and ou! of the folds of bls white urnus an rm rose like an eag1e's ~g. Heir to an idea and mission wblch. had i( reached fulfilment, might have brought about renascence of rnodern Islam: even in the decay of age and illness and in the brd1kdown of his life's work. the North had not lost hts glow. hadthe right not to despair; knew that the longin~ after religious and political revival in the true spirit of Islam - ,vblch was wllat the Sanusi movement stood for - couId never wiped out the 1 . . hearts { the Muslim peopIes.
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WAS SAYYID AHMAD's GRANDFATHER. the great AI -gerian scholar Muhammad ibn A1i as-$anusi (thus sumamed after the l of Banu Sanus, to which he belonged), who in the fjrst h8lf of the century conceived the idea of Islamic frater nity which might pave the way to the ~tabIishment of truly Islamic commonwealth. After years ! wandering and studying in Arao lands, Muhamad ibn AIi founded the first zawiya, lodge, of the Sanusi Order at Mount Abu Qubays in and rapidly gained strong following among the beduins ofthe Hijaz. did not remain in , however, but returned to North Africa, ultimately to sett1e at Jaghbub, oasis in the desert .between Cyrenaica and Egypt, from where his message spread like lightning 811 over Libya and far beyond. When died in 1859,the Sanusi (as 1l members ofthe Order to known) held sway over vast state stretching from the shores of the Mediterranean deep equatorial Africa and into the country of the Tuareg in the AIgerian Sahara.. he term 'state' does not precisely describe this unique tion, for the Grand Sanusi never aimed at establishing persona1 rule for himself for his descendants: what \vanted was to organ.izational basis for amoral, social and political evival of Islam. In accordance with this aim, did notblng to upset the traditional tribal structure of the region, nor did cha1lenge tbe nominal suzerainty over Libya of the Turkish Sultan - whom continued to recogniz as the Caliph of Islam - but devoted 1l his efforts to educating tbe beduins in the tenets of Islam, from wblch they had deviated in the past, and to bringing about among them that consciousness of brotherhood which had envisaged Koran but had largely obIiterated centuries of tril feuding. From the zawiyas which had sprung up 1l over North Africa. the Sanusi carried their message to tbe remotest tribes and wrougbt witbln few decades almost miraculous cbange among Arabs and erbers alike: he old intertribal gradually subsided, and the unruly warriors of the desert irnbued with bitherto unknown spirit of co-operation. In tbe zawiyas their children received education - not l in the teachings of Islam but also in practical arts and crafts that previously had disdained the warlike nomads. hey were induced to dri1l and better weJls in areas' which for centuries had lain

315

barren. ad ud Sanusi guidance prosperous plantations

to dot tbe dese. Trade was ~ and the gendered the S8nusi made ua.vd possi in art where .in past years _ could ov. unolested. In short. the in fiuenc:e of the. Ord was powerful st1muJus to civilization and progress, wle.its strict orthodaxy rai:Jedthe moral standards of the new mmuit far anyt!1ing wblch that part of the wodd had ever epaienced. Abost ( , the tribes and their chiet\ains winal accepted the spiritualleadership of the Grand Sausi;af.evethukishuthities in Libya's coastaJ tows found. tbatthellil.Qt.alauthomy the Order made it vast1y easier them to deat with the~ on: 50 'difficult' beduin tribes. 1hus~ whife thcOlderconcentrated its frt progressive .regeneratiou 0f1fIe idjgenous pe0pl~ its influence in ti aImost idistigu.isha1 from actual governmental pOwer. his power rested the Order's ability to rouse the sim.ple beduins and the Tuareg of North Africa out of their erstwhile sterile {ralis in religious, to fill them with desire to live truly in the spirit ! Islam and to give them the feeling that all of them were working for freedom, ua dignity and bJdtherhood..Never sin: the of the Prophet had there anywhere in the Muslim world large-scale movement as closely approximating the Islamic way of life as that of the Sanusi. 1bis peaceful era was shattered in the last quarter of the nine teenth century, when France to tance southward from 1gca intoequatorialAfrica, and to occupy, step step, gi0DS that rml, had beelLindependent. UItdCr the spiritual guidanceortDe,~.Ittdf'ftheifteed,the founder's son and successor, Mul1amma,d al-Mahdi, was forced"to take to thc sword and was never to l it down. his 10ng struggle W8S true Islamj.c jihod - war of self-defence, thus defined the ran: Fight in , } qfGodagainst those } fight against
gaD

u,
10

bu! do n! yourselves aggressors,./or, ~rily, Goddoes n! aggressors .. Fight against ,m til , is 110 looger rein // mn / ' worship God. u! if ' desist, hostilitysho/l ...
But the French did not desist; they carried their tricolour their bayonets deeper d deeper into Muslim lands. ,When Muhammad al-Mahdi died in 1902, his nephew Sayyid bad followed him in the leadership -af the Order. From the

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age of nineteen, during his ]' tim and later when himselfbecame Grand Sanusi, was engaged in the fight against French encroachment in what is now French Equatorial Africa. When the Italians invaded Tripolitania and Cyrenaica in 1911, found himselffighting two fronts; and this new and irnrnediate pressure forced to transfer his main atten tion to the north. Side side with the and, after the latter abandoned Libya, alone, Sayyid Ahmad and his Sanusi muja hidin - as these fighters for freedom ca11ed themselves - waged war against the invaders with such success, that in spite of their superior armaments and numbers, the ltalians could keep only precarious foothold in few coastal towns. he British, then solidly entrenched in Egypt and obviously too anxious to see the ltalians expand into the interior of North Africa, were not hostile to the Sanusi. heir neutral atti tude was of utst to the Otder since 11 the supplies of the nj/lidin from Egypt,\vhere they enjoyed the sym pathy of practically the whole population. It is quite probable that tbls British neutrality wouId in the long enabled the Sanusi to drive the Italians entirely out of Cyrenaica. But in 1915Turkeyentered the Great War theside fGn,and the Ottoman Sultan, as Caliph of Is1an1, called the Grand Sanusi to assist the Turks attacking the British in Egypt. British, naturally than ever concerned about safeguarding the of their Egyptian possession, urged Sayyid Ahmad to neutral. In exchange for his neutrality, they were pared to accord political recognition to theSanusi Order in Libya, and to cede to it some the Egyptian oases in the Westem Desert. Had Sayyid Ahmad accepted this otrer, would only followed what msense categorically demanded. did not owe particular loyalty to the Turks, who had signed away Lihya to the Italians some years earlier, lvg the Sanusi to fight alone; the British had not committed act ofhostility against the Sanusi but, the contrary, had allowed them to re ceive supplies from Egypt - and Egypt was their sole of supply. Moreover, the Berlin-inspired 'jihad' which the Ottoman Sultan had proclaimed certain1y did not fulfill the requirements laid do\vn the Koran: the Turks \vere not fighting in self defence but rat1J.er hadjoined non-Muslim power in aggres

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war. Thus, religious and political considerations alike pointed to course alone for theGrand Sanusi: to keep out of war which was not his. Several of the most influential Sanusi leaders - friend Sidi Muhammad az-Zuwayy among them advisOO Sayyid Ahrnad to neutral. But his quixotic sense of chivalry toward the Caliph of Islam finally outweighOO the .dictates of reason and induced him to make the wrong decision: 11e declarOO himself for the Turks and attacked the British in the Westem Desert. his conflict of conscience and its eventual outcome were the tragic as in the case Sayyid Ahmad there was not merely question of personalloss g but also, possibly, of doing irbl harm to the great cause to which whole , and the lives two generations befor~ , had devotOO. nowing him as 1 do, there is doubt in mind that was prompted most unselfish motive - the desire to safeguard the unity the Muslim world; but 1 as little doubt that, from political point view, his decision was the worst could made. waging war against the British, , without fu realizing it at time, the entire future the Sanusi Order. From then was forced to fight three fronts: in the north against the Italians, in the southwest against the French, and in the east against the British. In the beginning met with some success. he British, hard pressed thGrm-urkish advance toward the Suez Canal, evacuated the oases in the Western Desert, which were immediately occupiOO Sayyid Ahmad. F1ying Sanusi columns mountOO dromedaries, JOO Muhammad az-Zuwayy (who in his wisdom had so strongly 0;> posed this venture), penetrated to the vicinity of Cairo. At that moment, however, the fortunes of war suddenly shiftOO: the swift advance of the German-Turkish army was halted in the Sinai Peninsula and turned into retreat. Shortly thereafter, the British counterattacked the Sanusi in the Westem Desert. occupied the frontier oases and wells, and thus cut off the so1 supply route of the muja/lidill. he interior of Cyrenaica could not alone nourish population engaged in life-and-death struggle; and the few German and Austrian submarines that secretly lled arms and ammunition brought than token heIp.

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1 1917Sayyid Ahmadwas persuaded byhis Turkish advisen .to submarine to Istanbul nd there ge or more effective support. efore left, entrusted the leadership the Order in Cyrenai to his cousin, Sayyid Muhammad al Idris. eing more conciliatory disposition tl18n Sayyid Ahmad, Idris almost at attempted to to terms with the British aod the Ita1ians. he British - who I18d disliked the conflict with the Sanusi from the very ginin - readiIy agreed to make ; and they exerted pressure the Italians to do the same. Short1y afterward, Sayyid Idris was 11 recog nized the Italian government as 'mir ofthe Sanusi', and was . to maintain precarious quasi independence in the interior ofCyrenaica unti11922. When it obvious, however, that the Italians did not rea11y ean to abide their agreements but were bent subjecting the entire country to their rule, Sayyid Idris, in protest, left for Egypt at the beginning 1923,handing over leadership the Sanqsi to trusted old follower, Umar al-Mukhtar. he anticipated breach of agreements the Jtalians followed a1most immediately, and the war in Cyrenaica was resumed. Meanwhile in Turkey, Sayyid Ahmad ! with disappoint ment after disappointment. It had his intention to retum to Cyrenaica as soon as he had achieved hispurpose;. but the pose was never achieved: For, in Istanbul. strange intrigues forced to delay his retum from week to week, from month to month. It would a1most that the circles around the Sultan did not rea11y desire the Sanusi to succeed. he had a1ways fearfullest day the resurgent Arabs try to regain the leadership of the Muslim world; victory tht Sanusi wou1d of necessity heralded such ra resurgence nd made the Grand Sanusi, whose fame was almost legendary en in Turkey, the obvious successor to the Caliphate. hat him self had such ambitions did not assuage the suspicions of the High Porte; and although was1treated with utmost respect and ll honours due to his position, Sayyid Ahmad was politely but effectively dctained in Turkey. he Ottoman breakdown in 1918 and the subsequent occupation of Istanbul the Al1ies signa11ed the end his misplaced hopes - apd at the same time closed ll avenues of retum to Cyrenaica.

.ina

Libya

~ince

1952.

OPPOSITE: The Grand Sanusi

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But the urge ( work for ( cause of Muslim unity did not allow Sayyid Ahmad ( remain. inactive. As the Allied troops were landing at Istanbul, he crossed over ( Asia Minor ( join l ttk - then still known as Mustafa Kemal - who had just begun ( organize the Turkish resistance in the of Anatolia. should remember that, in the beginning, the heroic struggle of Kemal's stood in the sign of Islam, and that it was religious enthusiasm alone that gave the Turkish nation in those grim days the strength ( fight against the overwhelming power ofthe Greeks, who were backed 11 the resources ofthe Allies. Placing his great spiritual and moral authority in the service of ( Turk.ish cause, Sayyid Ahmad travel1edtirelessly through the towns and villages of Anatolia, calling upon the people ( port ( G/zQzi, or 'Defender ~fthe Faith', Mustafa Kemal. Grand Sanusi's efforts and the lustre ofhis contributed im measurably to the success of ( Kemalist movement among the simplc of Anatolia, 10 whom nationalist slogans meant nothing, but who for countless generations had deemed it privilege ( lay down their lives for Islam. But here again the Grand Sanusi had comrtlitted of judgment - not with regard ( ( Turk.ish l, whose ligious fervour did Iead ( victory against times stronger, but with regard ( ( intentions of their leader: for sooner had ( Ghazi attained to victory than it obvious that his real aims differed widely from what his people had led ( expect. Instead of basing his sociaJ revolution revived and reinvigorated Islam, Ataturk forsook the spiritual [ of religion (which l had brought him ( victory) and made, quite unnecessarily, rejection of alllslamic values the basis of his reforms. Unnecessarily from Ataturk's view point: for he could easily harnessed ( tremendous re ligious enthusiasm of his people .to positive drive for progress without cutting them adrift from all that had shaped their cul ture and made them great race. In bitter disappointment with Ataturk's anti-Islamic reforms, Sayyid Ahmad withdrew completely from ll political activity i Turkey and fina11y, in 1923,left for Damascus. There, in spite of his opposition ( Ataturk's internal policies, tried to serve tlle OPPOSITB: Su/ubbi

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cause of Muslim unity attempting to persuade the Syrians to reunite with Turkey. The French mandatory governmel1t viewed him, naturally, with utmost distrust and when, toward the end 1924, his friends leamed that his arrest was imminent, he es caped across the desert to the frontier of Najd and thence proceeded to , where he was received \varmly ing Ibn Saud.

-2
tbe mlljahidin faring, Sidi Muhammad l' 1 ask - for 1 have without news f'rom Cyrenaica for nearly year. round, wblte-bearded ofSidi Muhammad az-Zuwayy darkens: 'The news is ! good, son. he figbting bas ended some months ago. The mujabldil1 have broken; the Iast bullet has been spent. Now l God's mercy stands tween our nb l and the vengeance of their sors .. .' 'd what about Sayyid Idris?' 'Sayyid Idris,' repIies Sidi Muhammad with sigh, 'Sayyid Idris is stiII in Egypt, powerless, waiting - for what ? is good , God bIess , but warrior. lives with his books, and the sword does not sit weI1 in his hand .. .' ' Umar al-Mukhtar - surely did not surrender? Did to Egypt1' Sidi Muhammad stops in his.tracks and stares at in aston ishment: 'Umar ... ? So thou hast not heard that?' 'Heard what l' ' 50n,' says gently, 'Sidi Umar, God mercy , has dead for nearly year .. .' Umar aI-ukhtr- dead ... That Iion of Cyrenaica, whose seventy-odd years did not prevent from fighting, to the Iast, for his country's freedom:dead ... For ten Iong, grim years was the soul of bls pcople's resistance against hopeless odds against ltaIian armies ten times more numerous than bls armies equipped with ibe most modern weapons, armoured cars, aeroplanes and rt - while Umar and his half-starved mujahidin had nothing but rifles and few horses with wblch to wage desperate guerri11a warfarein country that had been tumed into huge prison m ...
'ND HOW ARE

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1 bardly trust own voice as 1 say: 'For [ last year and half, ever 1 retumed from Cyrenaica, 1 have known that he and his were doomed. How 1 tried to persuade to treat into Egypt with the remnants of the mujallidil1, 50 that he
might remain alive for his l ... and how calmly brushed aside attempts at persuasion, knowig '::~ll that death, and nothing but death, awaited him in Cyrenaica: and now, after hundred battles, that long-waiting death has at last caught with him ... , tell , when did [ Muhammad az-Zuwayy shakes his head slowly; ar.d as we emerge from the narrow bazaar street into the , dark square of AI-Manakha, tells : ' did not faH in battle. was wounded and captured alive. And tben tbe ltalians ki11ed him ... hanged him like tblef .. .' 'ut how could they!' 1 exclaim. 'Not even Graziani would dare to do such terrible thing!' 'ut did, did,' replies, with wry smile. ' was General Graziani himself who ordered him hanged: Sidi Umar and score of his were deep in Italian-held territory when they decided to their respects to thc tomb of Sidi Rafi, the Prophet's Companion, which was in the vicinity. Some how the ltalians learned of his and sealed otf the valley both sides with . There was way to escape. Sidi Umar and the mujahidill defended themseIves until only and two others remained alive. At lRst his horse was shot dead under m and, in falling, pinned him to the ground. ut the old continued firing his rifle until bullet shattered of his hands; and tben continued firing with the other hand until his munition ran out. they got hold of and carried him, bOund,to Suluq. There was brought before General Graziani, who asked : "What wouldst thou say if the Halian govern ment, in its great l, would ll\ thee to live? Art thou prepared to promise that thou \vilt spend thy remaining years in ?" ut Sidi Umar replied: "1 shall not cease to fight gist [ and thy people until either leave country or 1 leave life. And 1 swear tothee Him who knows what is in men's hearts that if hands were not bound this moment, 1 \vould fight theewith bare hands, old and broken as 1 ... " hereupon General Graziani laugbed and givc the order that

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Sidi Umar hanged in the market l ofSuluq; which they did. And they herded together thousands of Muslim and women from the camps in which they were imprisoned and forced them to witness the hanging of their leader .....
-3

Muhammad az-Zuwayy and 1 ceed in the direction of the Sanusi za}v;ya. Darkness ties over the vast/square, and the noises the bazaar l' behind. sand crunches under our sanda:ls. Here and there group of resting Ioad-camels discemed, and the of wuses the distant periphery the square shows idistitl gaist the l0i ight sky. It reminds of the fringe of distant forest like those juir forests the tald of Cyrenaica where 1 first utrd Sidi Umar al-Mukhtar= and the of that fruitless joumey wells withi with 11 its tragic flavour of drkess and danger and death. 1 see the.sombre face of Sidi Umar bent over small, flickering fire and hear his husky, solemn voice: ,'We to fight for our faith and our freedom until we drive the invaders away or die ourselves ... We other choice ....

SLL HAND IN HAND,

WAS STRANGE MISSION that brought to Cyrenaica in the late January of 1931. Some months earlier - to precise, in the autumn of 1930- the Grand Sanusi to . 1. spent hours in his and MUhammad az-Zuwayy's ; 00 cussing the desperate straits of the mujahidin who were carrying the strugg1e in Cyrenaica under the leadership ! Umar al-Mukhtar. It was evident that unless they received quick and effective l from outside, they would not to last out much 10nger. he situation in Cyrenaica was rough1y this: ll the towns the coast and several points in the northern part of the Jabal Akhdar - the 'Green Mountains' of central Cyrenaica - were firmlL~ld the Italians. Between these fortified points thcy in . ed continuous patrols witb armoured cars and siderable numbers of infantry, mostly Eritrean askal'is, sup81is ! ltalian

chivalrY took place 16September, 1931.

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ported ~ air squadron which made frequent sorties the countryside. he beduins (who 'constituted the of the Sani resistanee) were unable to without being spotted i mediately and strafed from the air. It often happened that connaissanee plane reported the presenee of tribal iet wireless to the nearest post; and while the hin guns of plane prevented the people from -dispersing, few annoured cars would , driving straight through tents, camels and people, indiscriminately killing everyone within range - , women, cblldren and cattle; and whatever people and animals survived v.'ere herded together and driven north ward into the huge barbed-wire enclosures which the Italians bad established the coast. At that time, toward the end of 1930, about eighty thousand beduins, together with several dred thousand head of cattle, were herded together into wblch did not provide sufficient nourishment for quarter of their number; in result, the death rate among and beast was appalling. In addition to this, the ltaliasw erecting barbed w barrier along the Egyptian from the coast south~ ward to Jaghbub.~n order to make it impossible for the guerrillas to obtain supplieS from Egypt. valiant Maghariba tribe under their indomitable chieftain, AI-tyWish - Umar al Mukhtar's right-hand - were still putting stiff resis tanee the westem coast of Cyrenaica, but most of tribe had already overwhelmed the superior numbers and equipment of the Italians. Deep in the south, the Zuwayya tribe, 100 ninety-year-old Karayyim, were still fighting desper ately despite the loss oftheir tribal centre, the Ja1uoases. Hunger and disease were decimating the beduin population in the in terior. All the fighting forces which Sidi Umar could deploy at an:y ti amounted to hardlymore than thousand . his, however, was not entirely due to lack of . Th kind of guer rilla warfare wblch the mujallidin were waging did not favour large groupments of warriors but depended rather the speed and mobility of small striking forces wblch would suddenly pear out of nowhere, attack Italian column or outpost, ture its arms and disperse without traee into the tang1edjuniper forests and broken-up wadis of the Cyrenaican plateau. hat such small bands, however brave and death-despising, .could

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never win decisivc victory over an who commanded al

most unlimited resources of and annaments was obvious. he question was. therefore. how to increase the strength the
mujahidin so as 10 na them oot n1 to infiictsporadic losses the invaders. but 10 wrest from them the positions in which they were entrenched and hold those positions in the face of newed enemyattacks. Such an increase of Sani strength depeaded several : steady infi ofbadly food supplies frol Egypt; weapons with wblch to ~eet the onslaughts of aeroplanes and aned cars - especially antitartk rit1es and machine guns; trained technical personnel to employ such weapons and to instruct the mujahidin in their ; and.lastly. the establish ment of reliable wireless communications between the vari groups of mujahidin in Cyrenaica and secret supply depots with in tian territory. For about week. evening after evening. the Grand Sanusi. Sidi Muhammad and 1 held council what might done. Sidi Muhammad expressed the ini that occasional reinforc ment of the mujahidin in Cyrenaicawou1d not solvethe problem. It was his belief that the oasis of Kufra. far to the south in the Desert. which had the headquarters of the Sai Order under Sayyid Ahmad, should gain made the focal point ofall futurewarfare: for Kufra wasstill beyondthereach of ltaliao troops. It l, , the direct (if very 1ng and difficu1t) route to the Egyptian of ahriyya and Farafra, and therefore could more effectively provisiooed than an other point in the country. It could also made ral1ying for thc man thousands Cyrcnaican refugees who were 1iving in camps in !' and thus fn steady rc servoir ! manpower for Sidi Umars guerrilla forces in thc . .rth. Properly fortified and equipped with modcm weapons. Kufra could hold off macn-gu k 10w-flying aircraft, whi1e bomin! from grea.t would not really endanger such wide1y dispersed group of scttlcn1ents. he Grand 5ani suggested that if such reorganizatioo of the strugsle were possible. himsclf would return to Kufra to direct futurc operations from there. 1, for part, insisted that or the success of such lan it was imperative for Sayyid Ahmad to re-establish good relatioDs with the British. whom

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had so bitterly, and so unnecessari1y, antagonized his attack in 1915. Such improvement ofrelations might not impossible, for Britain was not happy about Italy's pansionist mood, especially now that Mussolini was trumpeting to all the world his intention of 're-establishing the Roman pire' both shores of the Mediterranean, and was casting covetous glances Egypt as well. deep interest in the fate of the Sanusi was due not only to admiration of the extreme heroism in righteous cause; what concemed more.was the possible of Sanusi victory the r world as Whole. Like so other Muslims, 1 had for years pinned hQpes Ibn Saud as the potentialleader of Islamic revival; and now that these hopes had proved futi1e, 1 could see in the Muslim world l one movement that gcnuinely strove for the fulfi1ment oft11e ideal of Islamic society: the Sanusi movement, now fighting last-ditch battle for sUfvival. And it was because Sayyid Ahmad knew how intensely own wcre involved with the Sanusi cause that now tumed to and, 100 straigt into eyes, asked: 'Wouldst thou, Muhammad, go to Cyrenaica behalf and find what could done for the mujahidin ? Perhaps thou \\ilt to see things \vith clearer eyes than l ...' 1 looked at him and nodded, without word. Although 1 was aware of his confidence and, therefoe, not complctely surprised bls suggestion, it nevertheless took breath away. prospect of adventure of such m.agnitude exhilarated beyond words; but what thri11ed was the thought being able to contribute something to the cause for which so other had given their lives. Sayyid Ahmad reached toward shelf his head and drew out of the Koran wrapped in si1kencloth. Placing it his knees, took right hand between both of his and laid it the : 'Swear, Muhanunad, im who lrnows what is in the hearts of , that thou wilt always faith with the muj

Jridin .. .' 1 took the oath; and never in life 1 surer wllat
Ipledged than at that moment.

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MISSION WlCH SAYYID AHMAD

entrusted to relations with the Grand Sai were well known and could not have the notice of tbe foreign missions in Jidda. it was not advisab1e to travel ptl to Egypt and run the risk ofbeing trailed there. recent u~~~vering ofthe intrigues behind FaysaI ad-Dawishs rebellion hadlcertainly not nh standing with the British, and it wasi n1 too probab1e that they would watch closely from the ~oment 1 set foot Egyptian soi1. We decided. therefore, tha~ even going to Egypt should kept in the dark. 1 would cro~s the Red Sea in of those sailing sblps and land sunjeptitiously, witbout passport visa. at some ~ecluded t t coast of Upper Egypt. In Egypt 1 would 1 to move at>qut freely in tbe gis of ijazi townsman, for the an and Medinese who went there in pursuit of trade in sea~ch of prospective pilgrims were familiar sigbt in Egyptian tOv..lnS and vi11ages - as 1 spoke the ijazi dialect with per fec~ ease, 1 could pass anywhere for native of of the two HoJy Cities. Several weeks of preparation were required to complete the arr.ngements wblch involved secret exchanges of letters with SidIUmar in Cyrenaica as wellas with Sanusi contacts in Egypt; and s9 it was on1y in the first week of January 1931, that zayd anq 1 made our way out of the ijazi port-town of to litt1e-frequented part of the shore. It was moon1ess night, and wkig over the uneven path in sandals was most unpleasant. ~. when 1 stumb1ed, the butt of the Luger pistol tueked under ~ ijazi kaftan struck ribs; and tbis brought vividly to mi~d the dangerous nature of the adventure wblch I was barking. Here 1 was, walking toward rendezvous with obscure r~ skipper who was to take in his dhow across the sea and land secret1y somew~ere the Egyptian coast. 1 no parers with which cou1d ~tray identity and 50, if1 were ca$ght in Egypt, it would not easy matter to prove who 1 ~s. But even the risk spending few weeks in Egyptian jaiJ was nothing as compared with the dangers that l farther alad. 1 would have to make , across the entire width of tht Westem Desert, avoiding detection Italian spotter planes ~ possib1y a1s0 armoured c:ar patrols, into the heart of

secrecy. Since

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country in which only weapons spoke. wh was 1doing this? - 1 ask~ myself. . Atthough danger was not unknown to , 1'had never sought it out for the sake of possible thri11. Wh never 1 had gone into it, it was always in response to urges, ns .ous unconscious, \ connected in very personal way with m own life. what about the present undertaking? Did 1 real believe that tervention could turn the tide in favour of the muja!lidin? 1 wanted to 'believe it: but in innermost knew that 1 was set ting out quiJIotic errand. why, n Go<!'s , was 1 risk.ing life as 1 had never risked it , and with so little promise ahead? ' But the was there before the q:ttion was even sciously formulated. When 1 had know Islam and pted it as way of life, 1 11ad thought that 11 questionin and searching had to end. Only gradual1y, very gr ually, did 1 aware that this ,was not the end: for to ept way of life as binding for oneself was, to at least, i xtricably bound up with desire to pursue it among like-min ed people - and not l to pursue it in personal sense but also to work for its social fruition within the community ofmy choi . , Islam was way and not end - and the desperate g errillas of Umar ;>~ Mukhtar were fighting with their lifebloo for the fd to . tread that way, just as the Companions i:>f Prophet had done thirteen centuries ago. of help to th m in their hard and , struggle, however uncertaiil the tcome, was as per sona11y necessary to as to pray . . . . And there was the shQre. In the 50ft swel of the wavelets that lapped again5t the pebbles rocked the row at that was to take us to the ship anchored in the dark dista beyond. As the solitary oarsman rose from the waiting , 1 turned to zayd ,: 'Zayd, brother, dost thou know that are going into venture \vhich prove more threatening ~ thee.and than of Ad-Dawish's Ikhn put together? t't thou not look back with yearning to the of Medina and thy friends?' ' way is way, uncle,' rep ied. 'And ha5t thou not told thyself that water which s~ands otionIe5s becomes ter run until- itbe 5tale and foul? Let us go - and the comes clear .. "

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ship was those large, clumsy dhows which ply around the coasts Arabia: built entirely of wood, smelling of dried fish and seaweed, with high , two Latin-rigged masts and large, low--ceilinged between them. , skipper, was wizened old Arab [ uscat. smaH, beady eyes that peered at frOm beneath the folds of vlumius, multicoloured turban wary expression that spoke oflong ycars spent in illicit hazards and adventures; and the curvcd, silver-encrusted dagger 1 his sash did seem to
,

'Marllaba, marhaba, friends!' cried as we clam bered aboard. 'his is hour of good augury!' How times, 1 mused, had given the same hearty \\'eJcome to poor I,ajj;s .whom surreptitiously took board in Egypt and, \vithout further thougbt to their w"elfare, landed thc coasts of tbe Hijaz, so that they might avoid paying the pi1grimage \vhicb the Saudi government had imposed those who \vish to make the pilgrimage to the House of God ? And how times had used exactly these words to the . slave traders \.. , in sharp violation of the Law of Islam, had captured some wretched Ethiopians to seH in the slave markets ofYemen? But then, 1 consoled myself, the \ ra;s must have gained - however questionabIe its background could only to our advantage: for knew his way around the Red Sea as [\ other did, and could relied to set us dw safe shore.
, FOUR NIGHTS after we had embarked the
dho}\', \ were landed, again in the smaH rowboat, north the
port of Qusayr the coast of Upper Egypt. our astonish . ment. the ra;s refused to accept payment, 'for,' said with
grin, '1 paid masters. God \vith .'
As 1 had expected, it \vas not difficult to make ourselves in
conspicuous in Qusayr, [ the town was accustomed to seeing
m in ijazi garb. the moming after our arrival \ booked
seats in ramshackle bus bound for As-Siyut the Nile; and.
sand\viched between alarmingly fat woman who carried
basket [ of chickens { her vast lap and old fellah who,
observing attire, immed1ately started reminiscing

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about the hajj he had n ten years earlier, zayd and 1 started the first stage of our African joumey. 1 had always thoughtthat engaged in asurreptitious and risky uhdertaking waS bound to feel as though were tbe object suspicion the part everyone encountered, and that !! disguise could easily seen through. But, strangely enough, 1 did not have that feeling now. During past years in Arabia 1 had entered the life of its people so fuHy that somehow it did not occur to to regard myself as anything but of them; and although 1 had never shared the peculiar business in terests of the Meccans and Medinese, 1 now felt so entirely at in role ofpilgrim tout that 1 promptlybecame involved in almost 'professiorial' discussi.oil with several other passen gers the virtues of performing the hajj. Zayd feH into thc spirit of the game with great zest, and so the first hours our journey were spent in lively conversation. After changing to train at As-Siyut, we finaHy arrived at the smaH town of Bani Suef and went straight to the house of our Sanusi contact, Ismail adh-Dh.ibi - short, stout of countenance, speaking the resonant Arabic of Upper Egypt. ing only cloth.ier of moderate ns, was not of the notables of the town; but his aHegiance to the Sanusi Order had proved occasions, and his personal devotion to Sayyid Ahmad made doubly trustworthy. Although the hour was late, aroused servant to meal for us, and while we \vaited for it, recounted the arrangements had made. First of , iuDditl 00 receipt of Sayyid Ahniad's mes sage, had contacted weH-kw member of the Egyptian royal family who for years had ardent and active supporter of the Sanusi cause. Princewas fu apprised of the purpose of issi; had readily consented to place the necessary funds at disposal and also to provide mounts and two reliable guides for the desert journey to the Cyrenaican border. At this moment, our host informed us, they were await ing us in of the l orchards outside Bani Suef. Zayd and '1 now discarded our Hijazi dress, which would arouse too curiosity the Western Desert routes. In its place \vewere provided with cotton trousers and tunics of North African cut as w as \vith \v Ul/s such are worn in

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westem Egypt and Libya. From the basement ofhis house Ismail produced two short cavalry c,'1rncs of ltalian pattern - 'for it will easier to replenish for this kind of rifle among the mujabldin.' the following night, guided our host, we made our way out ! the town. Our two guides proved to beduins from the Egyptian tribe of Awlad , among whom the Sanusi had supporters; of them, Abdullah, was vivacious young who had participated year earlier in the fighting in Cyrenaica and could thus give us good deal ofinformation about what we might there. other, whose 1 have forgotten, was gaunt, morose fellow who spoke nl rarely but showed selfno less trustworthy than the more personable Abdullah. four camels they had '"vith them - strong, speedy dromedaries of Bisharin breed - had obviously chosen for their quality; they carried saddles not different from those to whicll 1 had accustomed in Arabia. As we were to move rapidly, without long halts, cooked food would out of the question most of the way; consequently, our provisions were simple: large bagful of dates and smaller bag fi11ed to bursting with hard, sweetened biscuits made of coarse wheat flour and dates; and three of the camels had waterskins attached to their saddles. Shortly before midnight, Ismail embraced us and invoked God's blessing our enterprise; 1 couldsee that was deeply moved. With Abdullah leading, we left the palm orchard behind us and soon, under the light of bright , ambled at brisk over the gravelly desert plain toward the northwest. Owing to the necessity of avoiding encounter with the Egyptian Frontier Administration - \vhose cars and camel mounted constabulary might, for 11 we knew, patrol this part of the Western Desert - we took care to keep as far as possible from the main caravan tracks; but as almost 11 tf bet\veen Bahriyya and the Ni1e valley \vent via Fayyum, far to the north, the risk was not too great. During the first night out we covered abotlt thirty miles and stopped for the day in clump of tamarisk bushes; the second and following rughts we did better, so that before dawn ofthe fourth day we arrived at the rim ofthe deep depres sion within which lay the oasis of . While we encamped under cover of some boulders outside the

JIHAD

oasis - wblch consisted of several separate sett1ements and plan tations, the chief of them being the village of Bawiti - Abdullah made bls way foot down the steep, rbcky incline into the palm-covered depression to seek out contact at Bawiti. would not to turn before nightfall, and so we lay down . sleep in the shadow of the rocks; pleasant rest after the strain and coJd of our night-long ride. NevertheJess, 1 did not sleep , for too ideas occupied mind. Ruminating plans, it seemed to that it would not too difficult to maintain permanent line of communications ni Suef and ahriyya; even large caravans wou1d , 1 was eertain, to proceed undetected between these points jf sufficient was taken. Despite tIie fact that Frontier Administration post was situated at Bawiti (we cou1d see its wblte buildings from blding l above the oasis), it might be-possible to establish secret wireless transmitter in of the isolated villages in the south of Bahriyya. this point 1 was reassured some hours later Abdullah and the old - contact an - who accompanied . It appeared that, the whole, the oasis was nI loosely supervised the govem ment; and, what wa important, the population was . overwhelming1y pro-Sanusi. Five nights of strenuous riding: first gravel and broken ground and then through flat .sand '!unes; past the inhabited Sitra oasis and its lifeless, dark-blue salt lake fringed -eed and thickets ofwi1d palms; the Arj depression with its fantastic, craggy chalk rocks, to wblch the moon1ight i parted ghostly, other-worldly appearance; and, toward the end of the fifth night, our first view of the oasis of Siwa .. for years it had been one ofmy Most cherished desires to visit this remote oasis wblch onee had the seat of an Am temple and oracle famous throughout the ancieot world; but somehow desire had never fulfilled. And now it l 00 fore in the "rising dawn: vast expanse of m groves sur rounding solitary 1l which the houses of the town, rooted in the rock like dwellings, rose tier upon tier toward tall, conical minaret that topped the flat summit. It was iza conglomeration ofcrumbling masonry such as might behold jo dream ... 1 was seized with urge to enter its mysterious confines aod to wander through Ianes that had witnessed the

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times of the Pharaohs, and to see the uins the temple in wblch Croesus, ing of Lydia, heard the oracle that spelt his doom, and the Macedonian Alexander was promised conquest of the world. But again 10ngingwasto remain unfulfilled. Although 50 , the town Siwa must needs remain closed to . visit l so remote from contacts with the outer world and so unaccustomed to strangers that every new face was bound to noticed at wO\lld indeed foo1hardy: for, situated alrnost the Libyan border, Siwa was most closely watched the Frontier Administration and also, beyond any doub1, full of informers in Italian . And so, regretfully consoling myself with the thought that it was not portion to see it this trip, 1 dismissed Siwa from mind. We skirted the town in wide circle to the south and finally made in grove of \vild palms. Without allowing himself td - for \ had intention of stopping so close to the border 10nger { was absolutely necessary - Abdullah i mediately rode off to the.neighbouring hamlet to find the whom Sayyid Ahmad had entrusted with seeing us across the frontier. After few hours, retumed with the two new guides and the four fresh camels that were to take us onward. he guides, ara'sa beduins from the Jabal Akhdar, were Uar l Mukhtar's , sent especially him to lead us through the gap between the Italian-occupied oases of Jaghbub and Jalu . onto the Cyrenaican plateau, where 1 was to meet Umar. Abdullah and his friend took leave of us 10 retum to their lage in Egypt; and under the guidance of the two mlljahidin, hlil and ar-Rahman, we started \veek's trek across the almost waterless desert steppe that gently ascends to\vard the Jabal Akhdar. It was the hardest desert journey 1 had ever perienced. Although there was not danger of discovery Italian patrols if took care to blde in daytime and travel l night, the necessity of avoiding the widely spaced wells made ( long march nightmare. Only were \ to water camels and refill our waterskins from desolate well in Wadi al-Mra; and this almost proved undoing. We had arrived at the we111ater than \ had expected - in fact, da\\-l1 was breaking \l1 we started to draw water for the animals, and the sun stood the horizon when we finished.

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We had 5till. as halil to1d US. two good s to go before we would reach the rocky depression that was to our blding place for the day. But hardly had:we resumed our march when . the ominous drone ofan broke the desert silence: and few minutes [ small monoplane appeared over our , banked.5teep1y, and g to circle in steadily lowering spira1. here was place to take cover, and 50 we jumped down from the camels and scattered. At that moment the pilot opened fire with his machine gun. 'Down. downon the ground!' 1 shouted. 'Don't move - play dead!' But hlil, who must experienced many such encounters in his long years with the muja!Jidin, did not 'play dead'. 1 down his back, his head against boulder, , resting his rifle " raised kn, started firing at the oncoming plane not at random, but taking careful aim before every shot, as if at target practice. It was extremely daring thing to do, the plane went straight for him in flat dive, spraying the sand with bullets. But of h's shots must hit the plane, for suddenly it swerved, turned its nose upward and rapidly gained altitude. Th pilot had probably decided that it would not worthwhile to shoot four at the risk of his own safety. circled or twice , and then disappeared toward the , in the direction of Jaghbub. " Italian sons dogs cowards;' halil announced calmly we reassembIed. 'hey like to kill - but they do not like to expose their own skins too .' None ofus had injured, but Abd ar-Rahman's l was dead. We transferred his ~addlebags to Zayd's ni l , and henceforth rode pillion behind Zayd. Three nights later we reached the juniper forests of the Jabal Akhdar and gtatefully exchanged our exhausted camels for the horses that had waiting for us at, secluded spot in the cus tody of group of muja/lidin. From now the desert lay blnd us; we rode over hiUy. rocky plateau criss-crossed innumerable dry stream beds and dotted withjuniper trees which in places formed almost impenetrable thickets. This \vild and pathless land in the heart of Italian-occupied. territory was the hunting ground of the muja/lidin.

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NIGBTS us to Wadi at-Taaban - the 'Val1ey of the Tired One', as it was most appropriately named where we were to meet Umar al-Mukhtar. Safely ensconced in tblckly wooded gulley, with our horses hobbled in the lee of rock, we' awaited the coming of the Lion of the Jabal Akhdar. he night was cold and starless and filled with rustling silence. It would still some hours unti1 Sidi Umar arrived; and as the night \yas exceedingly dark, two Bara'sa beduins saw reason why we should not replenish our supply ofwater from the wells of Sfayya, few miles to the east. True, there was fortified ltalian post less than half mile from Bu Sfayya - but,' said hlil, 'those curs will not dare to leave their wal1s in so dark night.' hus halil, accompanied Zayd, set out horseback with two empty waterskins, having wrapped rags around the hooves of their horses to prevent sound the rocky ground. hey disappearedinto the darkness while Abd ar-Rahman and 1 hud dled together for wannth against the low rocks. It would have been too risky to light fire. After an hour , some twjgs crackled among the junipers; sandal struck softly against stone. ni, instant1y alert, stood straight for while, the in bls hands, and peered into the darkness. subdued call, not unlike the wail of jackal, from thetblcket, and Abd ar-Rahman, cupping his hand before his mouth, answered with similar sound. he figures of two appeared before us. hey were foot and carried rifles. When they closer, of th said, 'he way of God,' and Abd ar-Rahman replied, 'here is might and power beside i' - \ seemed to kindof password. the two ne,,: arrivals - both of them clothed in ragged jards, wraps of beduins - apparently knew Abd ar Raha, for gripped both his hands and greeted him ff tionately. 1 was introduced, and the two muja!lidin clasped hands with in tum. One of them said: ' God with thee. Sidi Umar is coming.' We stood listening. After perhaps ten minutes, the twigs gain crack,led in the juniper bushes and more emerged from shadows, from different direction, converging upon us -with rifles ready. When they had convinced themselves that we were indeed those whom they expected to meet, they immedi

Jl

ateJy fanned out into the thicket, again in different directions, viously intending to keep good watch overtheir leader's safcty. And then , riding smal1 horse whose hooves were mufed in cloth. Two menwalked side and several followed him. When reached the rocks wh.ich we were waiting, of h.is m helped to dismount, and 1 saw that moved with difficulty (1ater 1 leamed that had wounded in skirmish ten days ear1ier). l the 1ightof thc rising m 1 could now see him clearly; of middle size, strong of ; short, snow-white beard framed 1\is scmbre, deeply lined [; the eyes l deep in their sockets; from the creases around them could guess that in different stances they might have readi1y laughed, but now was nothing in them but darkness and suffering and courage. 1 stepped forward to meet him and felt the strong pressure l1is gnarled hand. 'Welcome, son' - and as his eyes swept over , keenly, appraisingly: the eyes of to ,vhom danger was dai1y bread. ofh.is spread blanket the ground and Sidi Umar sat down heavily. Abd ar-Rahman bent over to kiss his hand and then, after asking the Ieader's permission, set himself to Iighting small fire under the protective overhang rock. l the faint gIow of the fire, Sidi Umar read the Ietter from Sayyid Ahmad wh.ich 1 had brought with . read it careful1y, folded it, held it for moment over his head - gesture 'of respect and de votion almost never sees in f but in North Africa - and then turned toward with smile: 'Sayyid Ahmad, God Iengthen his ,~, has good \\'ds to say about thee. art ready to help us But 1 do not kno\v where hclp could from, save from (Jad, the Mighty, 1 BountifuI. \ are indeed reaching the end of allotted timc.' 'But th.is ! which S"ayyid Ahmad has evo!ved', ! interposcd. 'could it not new beginning? If steady stJpplies cOl!lJ arranged and made ,thc'base of future opcrations, cou!c' not the ItaIians held?' 1 had never seen smHe so bitter, 50 horeless as that \\'i1h which Sidi Umar answered : ' . , . ? Kufra is 1051. lt \\'s occupied the ltalians about fortnight ago .... his news std . Throughout 11 the past rnonths,

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Sayyid Ahmad and 1 had building our lns the position that Kufra could made rallying point for intensi fied resistance. With Kufra gone, nothing remained to the Sanusi but the tortured plateau of the Jabal Akhdar - nothing but the steadily tightening vice of Italian occupation, 10ss of point after point, s10W, relentless strangulation ... 'How did Kufra fall1' With weary gesture, Sidi Umar motioned to of his to closer: 'Let this tell thee the story ... is of the few who have escaped from Kufra. to l yesterday.' he from Kufra sat down hi$ haunches before and pulled bls raggedburnus around him. spoke slowly, without tremor of emotion in his voice; but his gaunt face seemed to mirror the had witnessed. ' us in three columns, from three sides, with armoured cars and heavy . Their aeroplanes down 10wand bombed houses and mosques and l groves. We had l few hundred able to carry arms; the rest were \ and children and old . We defended house after house, but they were too strong for us, and in the end l the villageofAI-Hawari was left to us. Our rifleswere uselessagainst their armoured cars; and they overwhelmed us. n1 few of us escaped. 1 hid myself in the palm orchards waiting for to make way through the Italian lines; and through the night 1 could hear the screams of the women as they were being raped the Italian soldiers and Eritrean askaris. the follow ing day old woman to hiding l and brought water and bread. She told that the Italian general had as sembled the surviving people before the tomb of Sayyid Muhammad al-Mahdi; and before their eyes tore of the Koran into pieces, thre\v it to the ground and set his boot u it, shouting, "Let your beduin prophet l u now, if !" And then ordered the l trees of the oasis to cut down and the \vel1s destroyed and the books Sayyid Ahmad's library burned. And the next day l1 commanded that some of our elders and / taken u in aeroplane and they were hurled out of the l high above the ground to smashed to death ... And through the second 'Jlight 1 heard from hiding l the cries of our women and the

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laughter of the soldiers, and their rifle shots ... At last 1 crept out into the desert in the dark of night and found stray l and rode aWfiy ...' When the from Kufra had concluded his terribIe tale, Sidi Umar gently drew to himself and repeated: 'So thou canst see, son, we have indeed close to the end of our allotted time.' And, as ifin reply to the unspoken question in eyes, added: 'We fight because w~ have to fight for our faith and our freedom until we drive the invaders out die ourselves. We have other choice. God we belong and unto Him do we return. We have sent away our women and children to Egypt, so that we should not have to worry about tl1eir safety when God wills us to die.' muffled drol1e audibIe somewhere in the dark sky. With almost reflex movement, of Sidi Umar's threw sand the fire. he planc, more than vague shape against the clouds, passed fairly low over us its eastward fllght, and tOO sound of its engine slowly died away. 'But, Sidi Umar,' 1 said, 'would it not better for thee and thy mujabldin to withdraw into Egypt while there is still way 1 For in Egypt it would perhaps possibIe to bring gether the refugees from Cyrenaica and to organize effectiveforce. struggle here ought to halted for time, 51) that the people might regain some of their strength ... 1 k110W that the British in Egypt are not too at the thought of having strong Italian position their flank; God knows, they might perhaps close their eyes to your preparations if could convince them that do not regard them as enernies .. .' 'No, son, it is too late for that. What thou speakest of was possibIe fifteen, sixteen years ago, before Sayyid Ahmad, God lengthen his life, took it himself to attack the British in order 10 help the Turks - who did not help us ... Now it is too late. British will oot move finger to make our 10t easier; and ihe Italians are detern1ined tofight us to the finish and to crush possibility offuture resistance. Should 1 and foHowers go now to E8Ypt, we would never to return. And ho\v could we abaodon our people and leave them leader less, to devoured the enernies of God l' 'What about Sayyid Idris? Does share thy views, Sidi Umar1'

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'Sayyid Idris is good , good son of great father. But God has not given him the heart to sustain such struggle .. .' here was deep earncst, but despondency, in Sidi Umar's voice, as thus discussed with the inevitable outcome ofhis 10ng5trugglefor freedom: knew that nothing awaited but dcath. Death held terror for m; did not seek it; but neither' did try to evade it. And, 1 sure, even if had known what kind of death lay , would not have tried to avoid it. seemed to 00 conscious in every fibre of his body and mind that carries his destiny within himself, wherever goes and whatever does. soft commotion audible from within the brush, so 50ft tMt one might have remained unaware of it under ordinary circumstances; but these were ordinary circumstances. With ears tensed in anticipation of 11 man ofdanger from expected quarters, 1 could clearly distinguish the faint sounds of stealthy movement that had stopped abruptly, to 00 resumed few moments later. he bushes parted and out stepped Zayd and h, accompanied two of the sentries; the horses they led were loaded with bulging wat~rskins. At the sight of Sidi Umar, h rushed forward to kiss the leader's hand, whereupon 1 introduced Zayd. he sharp eyes of Sidi Umar rested with vious approval Zayd's austere face and spare figure; placing his hand Zayd's shoulder, said: 'Welcome to thee, brother from the land of f,thers. Of which Arabs art thou?' - and when Zayd told him tnat 00 longed to the tribc of Shammar, Umar nodded smilingly: ', then thou art of the triOO of Hatim at-Tayyi, the most generous of ... .'* Some dates wrapped in piece of cloth were placed before us one ofSidi Umar's men; and invited us to the simple fare. When we had eaten, the old warrior stood up: ' is time to move , brothers. We are too close to the ltalian post at Bu Sfayya to a110w daybreak to find us here.' We broke our improvisedcamp and rode behind Sidi Umar, while the rest ofhis men fo11owed foot. As soon as we emerged from the gu11ey, 1 saw that Sidi Umar's was
has synonymo\!s (m' this , to which the Arabs attach the utmost
irt. Shmmar

Pre-Islamic ran warrior and poet

t,

( (

his generosity. His

Hatim's

the

tribe, to which Zd bel,tnged, traces its descent from '

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larger than 1 had thought: , dark shadows darted from beblnd rocks and - and joined column, while severat.more were strung out in loose pickets far to its right. and left. Nocasual observer would have guessed that there were about thirty around , for ofthem moved with the silencc of Red Indian scout. efore dawn we reached the ai encampment of Umar al Mukhtar's wn dawr (guerrilla band), which at that time sisted of litt1e over two hundred . It was sheltered in deep. narrow gorge. and severa1 small fires were buming under over hanging rocks. Some were sleeping the ground; others, blurred shadows in the greyness of early dawn, were with various tasks - cleaning their rs, fetching water, cook ing , or tending to the few horses that were tethered to trees here and there. A1most seemed to clothed in rags, and neither then nor later did 1see single whole jard or in the entire group. of the wore bandages wblch spoke of recent encounters with the . , 1 perceived two women - old and young - in the ; they sat near of the fires, apparently engrossed in repairing torn saddle with crude bodkins. 'h two sisters of ours go with us wherever we go,' said Sidi Umar in reply to mute astshmt. 'hey have fused to seek the safety of Egypt together with the rest of \\' and children. are mother.and daughter. their have killed in the struggle.' For two days and night - during wblch the was sblfted to another place within the forests and gorges of the plateau Sidi Umar and 1 went over every possibility of arranging more regular supplies for the mujahidin. trickle was sti1l coming f Egypt. Ever since Sayyid Idris had reached understand ing with them during the period ofhis armistice with the Italians, the British authorities seemed to willing to 100k, again, . with certain tolerance upOn Sanusi activities wi~hin Egyptian territory so long as they remained limited to 10calmoves. In par ticular, they took official notice of the small groups of war riors who occasionaHysucceeded in breaking through the Italian lines and to SaHum, the nearest Egyptian town the coast, to seH their war booty - most1y Ita1ian mu1es - in change for badly needed food stores. Such expeditions, how

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. , were extremeIy hazardous for the mujahidin and couId not often undertaken, ( so since the Italians were making rapid progress with the barbed-wire entanglements (! ran !iIong ( Egyptian border. Sidi Umar agreed with that the l altemative could supply along ( way 1 had , with secret depots in ( Egyptian oases of , Farafra and Siwa; was very doubtfuI whether this scheme coubl long elude ( vigi1ance of ( Italians. (Umar's proved only toowell founded. few months later sucb supply caravan did reach tbe mujaltidin, but was spotted ( Italians while passing through ( 'gap' between Jaghbub and Jalu. Soon afterward fortified ItaIian post was establisbed ! Bir Tarfawi, about balfway between ( two oases, and this, in addition ( almost continuous air patrols, made furtber enterprises of this kind far risky.) 1 b!id now to tbink of return. Not being very keen tracing ( long, arduous trail 1 had pursued westward journey, 1 inquired of Sidi Umar whether shorter route was feasible. here was, told , ! dangerous : through the barbed-wire entang1ements, ( SalIum. As it happened, band of mujahidin were ready ( set out 'venture of this kind in order ( bring Sallum; if 1 wanted, 1 could join . 1 decided (! 1 wanted. Zayd and 1 took leave ofUmar al-Mukhtar. never ( see again: Iess ( eight months later was captured and executed ( lins ..
only night - over ( rougb terrain and through the juniper tbickets ofthe eastem ll Akhdar, our band of some twenty reacbed ( Egyptian Cyrenaican border the point where \ planned to make our break-through. This point had ! selected ! random. Al though ( barbed-wire barrier already covered ( greater part .of ( frontier, it was in tbose days not quite completed. At some places, as here, there was only single entanglement about eight feet higb and four feet wide, \vhi1e in other places there were 1. ready as as three separate rows strung in heavy, multiple coi1s poles embedded in concrete foundations. he spotwe had chosen was nI half mile or 50 from fortified outpost in
ABOUT WEEK'S -

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which, we knew, there were armoured cars as weH; but it had been choice between this sector of the border another which might less weH fortified but guarded doubIe even triple 1ine of wire. Arrangements had made for us to met few ms in side Egyptian territory Sanusi supporters with transport animals. ', it would not necessary to endanger our own horses; they were sent back in the charge of few of the m: bldin, while the rest - zayd and 1 among them - approached the wire foot shortly before midnight. Darkness was our only protection, for the ltalians had cut down trees and bushes along ( 'frontier. With pickets posted at distance ofSeveral hundred yards to the north and south, six of our - armed with wire-cutters and heavy leather gloves captured in previous raids Italian working parties - crept forward fours; we others covered their advance \vith our rifles. It was tense moment. Straining ears for the s1ightest sound, 1 could hear only the crunch of gravel under tl1e weight of the advancing bodies and the occasional ofa night bird. hen the screech ofthe first shears biting into the wire - it sounded like an explosion to - foHowed subdued staccato of snapping metal strands ... , , snap ... grating and snapping, deeper and deeper into the entanglement ... Another bird broke through the riight; but this time it was not bird but signal: signal from of our pickets in the north announcing the approach of danger ... and almost at the same moment we heard the drone of motor coming toward us. search1ight swept obliquely into the air. Like , we threw ourselves to the ground, except for the wire cutters who \vent with their work in desperate haste, longer bothering about stealth but cutting, hacking into the wire with shears and rifle butts, like possessed. few seconds later shot rang out: our northern sentry. he crew of the armoured car must have sighted him, for the ofthe searchlight suddenly swept do\vnward and we heard the ominous rattle of machine gun. roar of the gin increased in volume and the bIack houette bore down us, its catching squarely the ground., bIast of machine-gun r foHowed; the gunner had apparently aimed too high: 1 could hear ( whizz and whine .

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tbe bullets as they passed over our heads. Lying our bellies, we answdred the fire with our rifles. 'he searcblight, the searchlight!' someone shouted. 'Aim at the searchlight!' - and the searchlight went , apparently shat terred the buIlets of our sharpshooters. he armoured to abrupt ha1t, but its machine gunner continued firing blindly. At that instant shout from ahead of us announced that the break-through was completed - and, , we squeezed ourselves through the narrow opening, ripping clothes and flesh the barbed wire. sound of running steps - and two jard-clad figures threw themselves into the gap in the entanglement: our sentries rejoining us. he Ita1ians were apparently 10ath to l the and engage us in fight ... And then \\ stood Egyptian soi1 - , rather, we continued to , followed for while erratic firing from across the border, taking cover behind boulders, sand ridges and isolated bushes. Dawn found us well inside Egyptian territory and out of danger. Of our twenty-odd , five \vere missing, presumably dead, and four wounded, though seriously. 'God has merciful to us,' said' of the wounded mujahidin. 'Sometimes we [ half of our in crossing the \vire. But, then, ever dies whom God, exalted His , has \vi11ed to die ... And does not the Holy Book say, Speak 1101 / those who slail1 ;n the . / God as dead: [ tlley li,' ... l' Two weeks later, returning way of Marsa Matruh and Alexandria to Upper Egypt and thence, as -, dhow back to , Zayd and 1 found ourselves again in Medina. he entire venture had taken about two months, and our absence from the ijaz had hardly noticed ... As 1 STEP WITH SIDI Muhammad az-Zuwayy over the thresh old of the Ul Sanusi za.viya of Medina, those dim echoes - of death and despair linger in mind, and the smeIl ofjuniper trees, and the contraction of beart at the sound of bullets passing over bead, and the pain of hopeless quest; and then the memory of Cyrenaican adventure f~des away and l the pain rcmains.

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-4 AND ONCE AGAIN 1 stand before the Grand Sanusi and look the old warrior's tired [; and again 1 kiss the hand that has h~ld sword so 10ng that it hold it longer. 'God bless , son, and make thy way secure ... It is over year since we last met; and the year has seen the end our hopes. But praise unto God, whatever decree .. .' It must indeed have sorrowful year for Sayyid Ahmad: thefurrows around his mouth are deeper and his voice is lower than ever. The 0 eag1eis broken. sits huddled the , his white wrapped tightly about him as if for warmth, staring wordlessly into endless distance. 'Ifwe nI .1.ave saved Umar al-Mukhtar,' whispers. 'If we could only persuaded him to escape to Egypt while there was yet time .. .' 'Nobody could have saved Sidi Umar,' 1 comfort him. ' did not want to saved. preferred to die if couldnot victorious. 1 knew it when 1 parted from him, Sidi Ahmad.' Sayyid Ahmad nods heavily: ', 1 too knew it, 1 too knew it ... 1 knew it too late. Sometimes it to that 1 was wrong to heed the from Istanbul, seventeen years ago ... Was not that perhaps the beginning death not only for Umar but for the Susi?' this 1 have reply, for 1 have always fclt that Sayyid Ahmad's decision to start his unnecessary war against the British was the most fatal mistake of his life. ',' adds Sayyid Ahmad, 'how could 1 have done otherwise when the Caliph of Islam asked for help? Was 1 right or was 1 foolish? But who, except God, say whether is right or foolish if foHows the of his conscicnce?' Who say, indeed? The Grand Sanusi's head sways slowly from side to side in perplexity of pain. His eyes are veiled behind drooping lids; and with sudden certainty 1 know that they will never again flare with flame of .'"
Sayyid Ahmad died at Medina in the foIlowing (1933).

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-1 E LEAVE MEDINA late at night, following the 'eastem' route - the the Prophet foUowed his last pilgrimage to , few months before his death. We ride through the rest of the night and through the proaching dawn. After short stop for our morning prayer we proceed into the ; which is grey and cloudy. In the forenoon it begins to rain, and soon , are wet to our skins. Finally we espy small beduin encampment far to our left and decide to take shelter in of the black tents. he is small and belongs to group of Harb beduins, who receive us with loud, ' God give Hfe, strangers, and welcome.' 1 spread blanket over the ntats of goat hair in the tent ofthe shaykh, whose w - unveiled like most of the beduin women in this region - repeats her husband's gracious ,velcome. After sieepless night, sleep overcomes speedily under the drumming of the rain the tent roof. he rain drums into awakening several hours later. Nightly darkness lies over - oh, , it is the night, only the dark of the tent; and it sr.uells of wet wool. 1 stretch arms and hand strikes against camel-saddle standing the ground behind . he smoothness of the old wood is good to the touch; it is pJeasant to play it with one's fingers, the pommel, until they meet the iron-hard, sharp-edged with which it is laced together. here is nobody in the tent but . . After while 1 rise and step into the tent opening. The rain is hammering holes into the sand - myriads of tin holes which suddenly appear and as suddenly disappear to make room for new holes - and tums to spray over the blue-grey granite boulders to right. There is nobody in sight, for at this time of day the m must have gone out to look after their camels; the

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bIack tents near the tree down below in the va1ley are siIent in the siIence of the rainy aftemoon. From of them grey wisp ofsmoke winds upward - herald of the evening meal; it is too thin and too humbIe to itself against the rain, and creeps sidewise, fluttering helplessly, like woman's hair in the wind. ehindthe moving veil of silver-grey water-ribbons the billocks seem 10 sway; the air is full of the scent of water and wild trees and d tent-wool. Gradually the splashing and dripping ceases and the cloud$ gin to break up under the rays of the evening sun. 1 walk to ward of the low granite bou1ders. In it is depression as large as of the platters which whole roasted sheep and offered to guests festive occasions; now it is filled with rain water. When 1 put arms into it, it reaches up to the el bows, lukewarm, strangely caressing; and as 1 arms about in it, it feels as if skin were drinking. From of the tents emerges woan with big vessel her head, evidently intending to fill it from of the pools in the rocks; she holds her arms stretched outward, sideward and ward, gripping with her hands the s of her wide red garment like wingS, and sways softly as she . She sways like \vater when it slowly flows down fromthe rocks, 1 think to self; she is beautifullike water ... From the distance 1 hear the bellowing of the returning camels: and here they are, <:;J pearing in spread-out group from behind the rocks, solcmn1y shuffling with loose legs. he herdsmen drive them with sharp, short calls into the middle of the valley, then they call 'Ghrr . . . ghrr ... " to make the animals kneel down; and the brown backs swing down in wavy movements toward the ground. l the growing dusk the the camels' forelegs and then disperse to the tents, to his wn. And here is the night with its soft darkness and coolness. fore most of the tents glow fires; the clatte.ring of cooking~pots and pans and the laughter of the 'women mingle with the casional calls of the and the fragments of their talk which the wind carries to . he sheep and goats that after the camels continue to bleat for wbile, and sometimes dog barks - just as barks in 11 the nights. in all the tent-camps of Arabia.. zayd is no\vhere to seen; is proba still asleep in

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the tents. 1 walk slowly down to the resting camels. With their great bodies they uwed for themselves h01l0ws in the ~nd and now lie comfortabJy, sorne of them chewing their cud and others stretching their l\eI';ks 10ng the ground. or lifts its head and grunts 8.s 1 pass and playfully grs its fat . young foc1l is tightly pressed against its mother's side; frightened hands, it jumps , whi1e the mother turns her head toward and softIy be1l0ws with wide pen mouth. I take hold of the foal's neck with arms and hold it fast and press face into the warm wool of its back: and ll at it stands quite still and seems to lost 11 fear. he warmth of the young nil od penetrates - face and chest; under the palm ofmy hand 1 sense the blood pounding in its neck-vein; it merges with the beat of own blood and awakens in overwhelming sense of closeness to Hfe itself, and longing to lose myself in it entirely.

-2 of the dromedaries brings us nearer to ihe end of our road. We ride for days through the lit steppe; we sleep at night under the stars and awake in the coolness of dawn; and slowly 1 approach the end of road. hee has never other road for ; although 1 did not know it for years, has always goal. It ll to , 10ng before mind aware of it, with powerfuJ voice: ' ingdom is in tbls world as well as in the world to : ingdom waits for man's body as well as for his soul and extends over 1l that thinks and feels and does his commerce as well as his prayer, his bedchamber as well as his politics; IGngdom knows neither end nor limits.' And when, over u of years, a1I this m clear to , 1 knew where 1 belonged: 1 knew that ( brotherhood Islam had waiting for ever since 1 was born; and 1 embraced Islam. he desire of early youth, to belong to definite orbit of ideas, to part of community of brethren, had at last fulfilltd. Strr,ngely enough - but perhaps not so strange if considers what Islam stands for - first experience as Muslim among Muslims was of brotherhood ... In the first days of January 1927,1 set out again, tOO ti
WE RIDE, AND EVERY STEP

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and her little 8, for the Middle East; and it would for goOO. For days \Jfe voyaged through the Mediterranean, through shimmering circle of sea and sky, sometimes greeted distant coasts the smoke of ships that g1ided past. had disappeared far behind us and was almost forgotten. 1often went down from the comfort of our deck into the stale ~teerage with its tiered rows of iron bunks. Since the boat was going to the Far East, the majority of the steerage passengers were Chinese, small craftsmen and traders returning to the Middle ingdom after years of hard labour in Europe. Besides these, there was small group of Arabs from who had board at Marseil1es. also were returning m. he noises and smells of Western ports were still about them; they were still living in the afterg10w of the days when their brown hands had shovel1ed l in the stokeholds of English, American Dutch ; they were still speaking of strange foreign cities: New York, Buenos Aires, Hamburg. , caught sudden longing for the shining unknown, they had let them selves hired in the port of Aden as stokers and 1 trirnmers; they had gone out of their familiar world and thought that they were growing beyond themselves in the embraee of the world's incompreh.msible strangeness: but soon the boat would Aden and those times would recede into the past.. would change the Western hat for turban kufiyya, retain the yesterday l as memory and, for himself, return to their vi11age homes in . Would they return the same as they had set out - or as changed ? Had the West caught their souls - or only brushed their senses? he problem of these deepened in mind into prob lm of wider import. Never before, 1 reflected, the worlds of Islam and tr.e West so close to another as today. This closeness is struggle, visible and invisible. Under the impact of Wst:- cultural i...1luences, the souls of Muslim and women are slowly shrivg. are letting themselves led away from their erstwhile belief that improvement of living stan dards should but means to improving man's spiritual ceptions; they are falling into the same idOlatry of 'progress' into which the Western wor!d fell after it reduced religion to mere

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melodious tinkling somewhere in the background ofhappening; and are thereby growing smaller in stature, not greater: for ltal imitation, opposed as it is to creativeness, is bound to make l small ... Not that the Muslims could not learn from the West, especia11y in the fields of science and technology.But, then, acquisition of scientific notions and methods is not rea11y 'imitation': and certain1y not in the case of l whose faith con.mands them to search for knowledge wherever it is to found. Science is neither Westem nor Eastem, for scientific discoveries n1 links in unending chain of intellectual endeavour which embraces mankind as whole. Every scientist bui1ds the foundations supplied his predecessors, 00 they of his own nation or of another; and this process of bui1ding, correcting and improving goes and , from to , from age to age, from civilization to civilization: so that the scientific achievements of particular age civilization never said to 'OOlong' to that age or civilization. At various times nation, more vigorous than others, is to tribute more to the general fund of knowledge; but in the 10ng run the process is shared, and legitimately so, 11. There was time when the civilization of the Muslims was more vigorous than the civilization of Europe. It transmitted to technological inventions of revolutionary nature, and more than that: the very principles ofthat 'scientific method' which modem science and civilization built. Nevertheless, Jabir ibn Hayyan's fundamental discoveries in chemistry did not make chemistry 'Arabian' science; nor algebra and trigo .'nometry described as 'Muslim' sciences. although the was .. evolved Al-hwarizmi and the otller, AI-Battani, both of 'whom were Muslims: just as cannot speak of 'English' Theory of Gravity, althougl1 the who fnultd it was Eng1ishman. 11 such achievements are the common property of the human race. If, therefore, the Muslims adopt, as adopt they must, modern methods in science andtechnology, they will do not more thar. fo11ow the evolutionary instinct which causes to avai1 themselves of other men's experiences. But if they adopt - as there is' need for them to do - \Vestern forms of life, Westem mannersand customs and social concepts, they will not gain there])y: for what the West give them in this respect
OPPOSITE:

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will not superior to what their own culture has given them and to what their wn faith points the way. If the uslims keep tlleir heads l and accept progress as means and not as end in itself, they not l retain their wn inner freedom but also, perhaps, pass to Western the lost secret of life's sweetness ...
YEMENIS the boat \vas thin, short with eagle's nose and so intcnse that it seemed to fire; but his gestures were quiet and measured. When leamed that

1 was newcomer to Islam, showed special affection ; [ hours we would sit together dcck while spoke to of his mountain village in . is was Muhammad Salih. evening 1 visited him below deck. of his friends l ill with fever his iron bunk, and 1 was told that the ship's doctor would bother to do\vn to the steerage. As appeared to suffering [ malaria, 1 gave some quinine. While 1 was thus busy with him, the other Yemenis gathered in around little Muhammad Salih and, witll sideglances ! , took whispered counsel. l the end of thcim advanced tall with anolive-brown [ and hot bIack eyes - and offered bundle of crumpled notes: 'We have collected this among ourselves. Unfortunately it i~ :,.)t ; grant us the favour and accept -it.' 1 stepped back, startled, and explained that it \vas not that 1 had given medicine to tl1eir friend. 'No, , we kno\v it; but do nevertheless accept this . It is not payment but gift - gift [ thy brethren. We about thee, and therefore we give thee . art Muslim and brother. art even better than \ve others: [ ,ve have as Muslims, OUf fathers were Muslims and grandfathers; but thou hast recognizedlslam \vith thine own heart ... Accept the , brother, [ sake of the Prophet of God.' But 1, st bound ro conventions. defended self. '1 could not possibly ! gift in return [ service to sick friend ... Besides, 1 have enough; surely nced it ( 1. Ho,vever. ifyou insist giving it away. give it ( the at Port Said.'
1

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'No,' repeated the ni, 'thou accept it from us - and if thou dost not wish to keep it, give it in thine wn m to the
.'

And as they pressed , and, shaken ], sad and silent, as if 1 had refused not their but their hearts, 1 suddenly comprehended: where 1 had from l were accustomed to bui1d wal1s between 1 and : this, how ever, was community without walls ... 'Give the , . 1 accept it and 1 thank .'

-3
we will in . fire thou art lighting, Zayd, wil1 ( last; our joumey is coming to end.' 'But surely, uncle, there will other fires to light, and there will always another joumey ahead of thee and l' 'hat rna so, Zayd, brother: but somehow 1 l those other journeys will in this land. 1 have wandering in r 50 10ngthat it has growrt into blood; and 1fear if 1do not leave now, 1 never shall ... But 1 have to go away, Zayd: dost thou not rem.ember the saying that water move and flow ifit is to remain clear? 1 want, while 1 still young, to see how our Muslim brethren live in other parts the world - in India, in , in Java .. .' 'But, uncle,' Zayd with consternation, 'surely thou hast not ceased to love the land of the Arabs?' 'No, Zayd, 1 love it as as ever; perhaps even little too - 50 that it hurts to think what the future might bring to it. 1 told that the ing is planning to his country to faranjis, 50 that gain from them: will a110w them dig for in AI-Hasa, and for gold in the Hijaz - and God l0 knows what 11 this w do to the beduins. his c<>untry wil1 never the same again ...' OLlt the hush of the desert night 50unds tbe beat gal loping camel. 10l rider rushes with fiying saddle-tassels and flowing out of tl1e darkness into the light our campfire, brings his dromedary to abrupt standsti!I and, without wait ing for it ( kneel, jumps down from the s::tddle. After short ' \\"ith ' he starts, \vithout uttering another word, 10 unsaddle the beast, tosses his saddlebags nearthe .1'TOMORROW, insha-Allah,

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fire and sits down the ground, st silent, with face averted. ' God gi.ve thee life, Said,' says Zayd, who evi dentIy knows the stranger. But the stranger remains silent, whereupon Zayd turnS to : ' is 01' Ibn Saud's rajajil, the devil.' morose Abu Said is very dark; tblck and crinkly hair, worn careful1y plaited in two long tresses, betray African ancestry. is extremely well dressed; the dagger in his belt probably gift from the ig - is shthd in go1:1; and his mount is excellent, honey-coloured dromedary of { 'r(orth ' , slim-limbed, w of head, with powerfu1 sholjJders and hind-quarters. 'What is the with thee, Abu Sa:d ? Why dost not speak to thy friends? thou possessed jinn l' 'It is Nura .. .' whispers Abu Said - and after whiJe, when the hot coffee has loosened his tongue, tells us about Nura, girl [ the Najdi town of Ar-Rass ( mentions her failier's and itl:appens that 1 know well). had observed secretly over the 'garden wall when she was drawing water in the of other women - 'and 1 felt if glowing l had fallen into heart. 1 love her, but her father, that dog, wouldn't give his daughter inmarriage, the beggar - and said that she was al~raid of ! 1 ofered lot of as her dower, also 2 piece of land; always refused and in the end her of to her cousin, God's curse upon and !' His strong, dark [ is illuminated from one side thc , and the shadows which flicker across it are like the shadows of hell of torment. cannot bear to remain sitting [ long; driven bls restlessness, jumps , busies bls hands for moment with his saddle, retums to the fire and, sudden1y, dashcs cff into the empty night. We hear as runs in w!(1e circles around our camping place shouts, sh<:>uts: 'Nura's fire bums ! Nura's fire burns in breast!' --and again, with sob: 'Nura, Nura!' approaches the campflre again and runs in circles around it, with his kaftan fluttering Jike ghostly night bird in { light and darkness of the fiick.~ring fire. 1$ mad? 1 do not lL1ink so. But it that ! of the dark recesses of his soul rise up some primeval, atavistic tions - ancestral memories of the African s, the memories of

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people who Iived in the midst .of demons and weird mysteries, stiII close to the time when the divine spark ofconsciousness changed the animal into ; and the sj)ark. is not yet strong enough to bind the unchained urgestogether and to weld them into higher emotion ... For second it seems to that 1 ll see Abu Said's heart before , lump offlesh and blood smoking in the r of passion as if in l fire - and somehow it appears quite natural to that should so terribly, and run in circles like madinan until the hcbbled camels raise themselves, frightened, three legs ... h retums to us, and throws himself the ground. 1 discern the repugnance in Zayd's [ at the sight of such restrained outburst - [ the aristocratic disposition of true there is nothing contemptible than such 1Jnleash ing of the emotions. But Zayd's good heart soon gets the better ofhim. tugs Abu Said the sleeve, and while the other lifts his head stares at with nk eyes, Zayd gently pulls closer to himself: '0 Abu Said, how canst thou forget thyselflike this? Thou art \varrior, Abu Said ... Thou has ked and often nearly killed thee - and now woman strikes thee down? ' other women in the world besides Nura.... \) Abu Said, tllOu v.:arrior, thou fool .. .' And the African groans softly and his [ with his hands. Z.,,! continues: ' silent, Abu Said ... Look : dost thou see that Iighted path ir. the heavens1' Abu Said looks up in astonishment, -] involuntarily follow Zayd's pointing finger and tum eyes to the pale, uneven path that runs across the sky from hori~on to the ot.her horizon. You \vould it the Mi1ky Way: but the beduins in their desert wisdom know that it is nothing but the track of that heavenly which was sent to when, in obedience to his "God and in his heart's despair, raised the knife to sacrifice his first son. path ofthe ind visible in the heavens time eternal, symbol of and grace, remembrance of the rescue sent to l the pain of human heart - and thus solace to those wbo \vere to after: to those who 1] lost in the desert, and to those others who stumbIe, weeping deso]ate, through the wild~mess of their own lives.

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And Zayd goes , his hand raised toward the sky, speaking solemnly and at the same time unassumingly, as l an r speak: 'This is the path of the ram which God sent to our Master Abraham when was about to kill his first-born; thus God showed mercy to is servant ... Dost thou think will forget thee?' Under Zayd's soothing words Said's dark face softens in childlike \vonderment and becomes visiblyquieter; and he looks attenti"'ely, Iike pupil following his teacher, toward the sky, trying to find in it answer to his despair.

-4 heavenly ram: such images easi1y to one's mind in this country. It is remarkabIe how vivid the memory of that ancient patriarch is among the Arabs - far more vivid than among the Christians in the West who, after , base their rcligious imagery in the first instance the Old Testament; or even amcng the Je\vs, to whom the Old Testament is the ginning and the end of God's \vord to . spiritual of h is always felt in Arabia, as in the whole Muslim world, not only in the frequency with wmch his its Arabic form Ibral/im) is given to Muslim children, but also in the ever-recurring remembrance, both and in the Muslims' daily prayers, of the ' role as the first scious preacher of God's Oneness: whicll l0 explains the great given Islam to the I pi1grimage , which earliest times intimately connected with the story of Abraham. \vas not - so Westerners mis takenly ssu - brought into the orbit of Arab thought Muhammad in attempt, as it were, to 'borrow' elements of religious lore from Judis: for it is historically established that Abraham's personality \vas well known to the Arabs long before th~ birth of Islam. referellces to the patriarch -in the KoraB itself so worded as to leave doubt that had Iiving in the foreground oftl-.~ Arabian mind ages before Muhammad's time: and the outline of his life are always mentioned without preliminaries or explanations - something, that is, with which the earliest listeners to the Koran must have been thorougJy familiar. Indeed, already in pre-Islamic times
AND IS
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had an outstahding place in the geneaJogies of the Arabs as the progenitor, through Ishmael (lsmail), agar's 50, of the 'northern' Arab group which today comprises than half the entire Arablan nation, and to wblch Muhammad's own tribe, the Quraysh, belonged. On1y thc beginning of the story of Ishmael and bls mother is mentioned in the Old Testament, for its later development does not bear directly the destinies ofthe Hebrew , to which the Old Testament is mainly devoted; but pre-Islamic tradition has to say the subject. ACCOi"ding to this tradition, Hagar and Ishmael \vere doned Abraham at the place where stand5 today wWch, the [ ofit, i5 means improbable if bers that to camel-riding nomad joumey of thirty days or \vas and is nothing of the ordinary. At rate, Arab tradition says that it was to this ll that Abraham brought Hagar and their chi1d- to this gorge between rocky hil1s, naked and under the Arabian sun, swept flaming desert winds and avoided birds ofprey. today, when the ll of is fi11ed w:th houses and streets and people of tongues and races, the desert solitude cries out from the dead slopes around it, and over the crowds of pilgrims who prostrate themselves before the hOv'er the ghosts ofthose long-past millenniums in which silence, unbroken and devoid of 11 life, hung over the empty ll. It was setting for the despair of that Egyptian bond woman who had borne son to her master and thus had the object of so hatred the part her master's wife that she and her son Islllnael to cast away. patriarch must grieved indeed when did tOO to placate his i placable wife; but should remember that , who was 50 close to God, was convinced that His was without limit. We are told in the Book ofGenesis that God had thus comforted him: 'Let it not grievous in thy sight because of the child and because thy bondwoman ... Of her son \vill 1 make nation because is ofthy seed.' And 50 Abraham forsook the weeping woman and th~ child in the valleY,leaving with them \vaterskin and 5kin fiIled with dates; and went away northward through Midian to the land of . solitary wild sarha tree stoOO in the l1. ln its shadow

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sat Hagar with the child her l. Around her there was nothing but swimming, waving heat, glaring light sand ~nd rocky slopes. How good was the shadow of the tree ... But the silence, this horrible silenee without #le breath of n 1iving thing! As the day was slowly passing Hagar thought: If on1y something living would here, bird, an nil, yes - even beast of prey: what joy it would ! But nothing except the night, comforting like aU desert nights, cooling vau!t of darkness and stars that softened the bitterness of her despair. Hagar felt new courage. She fed her chi1d some dates and tth drank from the waterskin. night passed, and another day, and another night. But when the third with fiery breath, there was more water in the skin, and despair outgrew strength, and Jike broken vessel. And when the child cried in vain, with an ever weaker voiee, for \vater, Hagar cried out to the Lord; but did not 8hw.imslf. And Hagar, distraught the suffering of her dying child, ran to and fro with uplifted hands through the 1l, always the same stretch between two low hills: and it is in remcmbrance of despair that the pilgrims who now to run seven times between these two hiIIocks, crying , as she onee cried: ' Bountiful. FulI Grace! Who shalI mercy us unless hast m!' And then the ans\ver: behold, strearn of water gushed forth and g to flow over the sand. Hagar shouted with joy and pressed the child's face into the precious liquid 80 that might drink; and she drank with , calling out imploringly between gasps, 'Zummi, zummi!' - which is word without meaning, merely imitating the sound of the water as it weHed from the earth, as if to say, 'Gush forth, gush forth!' Lest it run out and lose itself in the ground, Hagar heaped little wall of sand around the spring: whereupon it ceased to flow and welI, which henceforth to kno\\ln as. the Well Zemzem and exists to this day. two were now saved f thirst, and the dates lasted them little longer. After few days group of beduins, who with their fami1ies and chattels had abandoned their homelands in South Arabia and were seeking new pastures, happened to pass the mouth of the lI. When they saw f10cks of bird circling

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over it, they concluded that there must water. Some oftheir rode into the valley to explore it and found lonely woman with child sig the rim of abundant well. Peacefully disposed as they were, the tribesmen asked Hagar's permission to settle in her valley. This she granted, with the condition that the well of Zemzem forever remain the of Ishmael and his descendants. As for Abraham, tradition says he returned to the vaUeyafter time and found Hagar and their son alive, as had promised God. From then visited them often, and saw Ishmael grow to manhood and marry girl from the South Arabian tribe. ears later the patriarch was commanded in dream to build next to the Well of Zemzem temple to his Lord; and thereupon, helped his son, he built the prototype of the sanctuary WblCll stands in to this day and is known as the . As they were cutting the stones for what was to the fir~t temple raised to the \vorship of the God, tumed his to\vard and exclaimed, 'Lab bayk, A//allumma, labbayk!' - 'For Thee 1 ready, God, for Thee 1 ready!': and that is \ their pilgrimagc to - the pilgrimage to the first temple of the God - Muslims raise the , 'Labbayk, Allahua, /abbayk!' when they proach the Holy City.

-5
How times have 1heard this during five pilgrim ages to . 1 seem to hear it no\v, as 1 lie near zayd and Said the fire. 1 close eyes and the and the stars vanish. 1 lay rm over face, and not even the light of the fire now trate eyelids; ll sounds of tll~ desert go under, 1hear nothing but the sound of /abbayk in mind and the humming and throbbing of blood in ears: it hums and throbs and pounds like the pounding of sea waves against the ll of ship and like the throbbing of engines: 1 hear the engines throb and feel the quiver ofthe ship's planks under and sInell its smoke and oil and hear the 'Labbayk, Allallumma, /abbayk' as it sounded from hundreds of throats tllc ship which bore first pilgrimage, nearly six years ago, from Egypt to Arabia over the
'LABBA , ALLAH UMMA, LABBA . .'

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sea that is called the Red, and nobody knows why. For thc water was grey as 10ng as we sailed through the Gulf of Suez, closed the right side the mountains of the African conti ! and the left those of the Sinai Peninsula - both of them naked, rocky ranges without vegetation, moving with the progress of our voyage farther and farther into hazy dis of misty grey which let the land sensed rather than seen. And when, in the later afternoon, we glided into the \\'jdth of the Red Sea, it was blue like the Mediterranean under the strokes of caressing wind. ' hece were only pilgrims board, so that the ship could hardly contain them. sblpping , greedy for the profits of the short /lajj season, had literalIy filled it to the brim without caring for the comfort of the passengers. the decks, in the cablns, in ll passageways, every staircase, in the dining rooms of.the first and second class, in the holds which had emptied for the purpose and eqttipped with temporary lad ders: in every availabIe spaee and human beings were painfully herded together. were mostly pilgrims from Egypt and North Afrjca. In great humility, with only the goal of the voyage before their , they uncomplainingly that necessary hardship. How they crouched the deck planks, in tight groups, , women and children. and with difficulty aged their household chores (for food \\'as provided the ) ; how they always struggled to .a'nd fro for water with tin cans and canvas canteens, every movement torture in this press of humanity; how they assembled times day around the watertaps-ofwhich there ""eretoo few for so l in order to perform their ablutions before prayer; how they suf fered in the stifling air of ihe deep holds, two stories below the deck, where at other times only balesand cases ofgoods tt'aveHed: whoever saw 'this had to recognize the power of lith which was in these pilgrims. For they did not seem to feel their suf fering, so consumed were they with tbe thought of . spoke n1 of their hajj, and the emotion with which they looked toward the near future made their faces shine. women oftell sang in chorus soogs about the Holy City, d agaio aod agaio the refrain: 'Labbayk, Allahumma, /abbayk!' At about 0000 of the secood day the ship sireo sounded :this was sign that we had reached the ltitud~ of Rablgh, small
I

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port north of Jidda, where, in accordance with old tradition, the male pilgrims coming from the north supposed to put away their everyday clothes and don the ilzram, pilgrim's gar , This consists of two unsewn pieces of wblte woo1len cloth, ofwmch is wound around tlle waist and reaches below the knees, \\'hiJe the other is slung loosely around shoulder, with the head rmiig . h reason for this attire, \ goes back to injunction of the Prophet, is that during the hajj there should feeling of strangeness between the Faithful who ftock together from 11 the corners of the world to visit the House of God, di1erence between and nations, between and high and low, 50 that 11 know that thcy are , equal before God and . And there disappeared from our ship the colourful clothing of the men. could longer see the red Tunisian tarbuslles, the sumptuous ofthe Moroccans, the gaudy gaJlabiyyas of the Egyptian/ellahin: everywherearound there was only this h white cloth, devoid of any adornment, draped over bodies which were now moving with greater dignity. visibly affected this cllange to the state of pi1grimage. Because the il,ram would expose too of their bodies, women grims keep to their usual garments; but as our sblp these were nl bIack wblte - the black gowns of the Egyptian and the white ones of the North African women - they did not bring touch of into the , At dawn of the thirdday the sblp dropped before the coast of r. Most of us stood at the g and gazed toward ( land that was slowly rising out of th~ mists of the morning. sides could see silhouettes of other pilgrim ships, and between them and the land pale-1Jw and mJd-gr streaks in the water: submarine al reefs, part ofthat long, in hospitabIe in wblch 1ies before the eastern shore of the Red Sea. Beyond (. to\vard the east, there was something like hill, low and dusky; but wheI1 the sun rose behind it, it suddenly eeased to ilI and town ( sea, climbing from its rim toward the centre with blgher and lllgher houses, small delicate structure of rose and yellow-grey coral stone: the port town of Jidda. and could discern ( carved, latticed windows and the wooden screens of baJconies, to wblch the humid air h:.d in the course of years imparted uniform grey

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green coIour. minaret jutted in the nUddle, white and straight like an uplifted finger. Again the , 'Labbayk, AllaJlumma, labbayk!' was raised - joyful of se1f-surrender and enthusiasm that swept ( the tense, white-garbed pi1grims board the water toward the land of their supreme hopes. heir , and mine: ( to the sight cf the of was the climax of years of search. 1 looked at Elsa, wife, who was companion that pilgrimage, and read the same feeling in l:.er eyes ... And then we sa...! host ofwhite wings darting toward us ( the mainland: ' coastal boats. With Latin sails they skim med the flat , softly and soundlessly winding their way through fords betwr;en invisibIe I reefs - the first emissaries of r, ready to :"eceive us. As they glided closer and closer and, in the end, flocked together with swaying masts at the side of the ship, their sails folded one after another with rush and swishing and flapping as if flight of giant herons had alighted for feeding, and out of the silence of moment ago there arose screeching and shouting ( their midst: it was the shouting of the boatmen who now jumped from boat to boat and stormed the ship's ladder to get hold of the pilgrims' baggage; and the pilgrirns \vere 50 filled with excitement at the sight of the l Land that they allowed things to to them without de fending them5elves. he were and ; the oftheir hulls ' strangely with the beauty and slimness their high masts and sails. It must have in such boat, or perhaps in somewhat largerone the same kind, that the bold seafarer Sindbad set out to run into unasked-for adventures and to land an island which in truth - ! - was the back of whale ... And in similar ships there sailed, 10ngbefore Sindbad, the Phoenicians south\vard through this same Red Sea and through the Arabian Sea, seeking spices and incense and the treasures of Ophir ... And now we, puny successors of those heroic voyages, sailed across the l sea, skirting the undersea reefs in wide curves: pilgrims in white garments, stow~d between cases and boxes and trunks and bundles, dumb host trembling with expectation. r, too, wa5 expectation. But how could 1 foresee, as 15at

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inthe bow of the boat, tbe hand of w in hand, that tbe simple enterprise of pi1grimage would so deeply, and so pletely, cbange lives? Again 1 compelled to tblnk of Sindbad. 'Vhen left the shores of bls homeland, - like self - bad inkling of what the future would bring. did ! foresee, desire, those strange adventures that were to f hi, wanted only to trade and to gain ; while 1 wanted than to perform pilgrim.age: when the things that were to to and to bappened, neither of us was ever again to look the \vorld with bls old eyes. , nothing so fantastic evercame way as tbe.jinns and the enchanted maidens and the gjant bird Roc that tbe sailor from had to contend with: but, the less, that first pilgrimage of i was destined to ! into life than all his voyages together bad done to m. For Elsa, death waited abead; and neither of us bad premonition bow near it was. And as to myself, 1 knew that 1 had left the West to live among the Muslim$; 1 did ! know that 1 was leaving entire past behind. Without waming, old world was coming to end: the \vorld of Western ideas and feelings, endeavours and imageries. door was silently closing beblnd , so silently tbat 1 was ! aware ofit; 1 thought it would ajourney like the earlier joumeys, when wandered through foreign lands, al ways to return to one's past: ! the days were to cbanged entirely, and with them the direction of desire.

Bt

TIME 1 HAD already seen countries of the East. 1 knew Iran and Egypt better tban country of Europe; l had long since ceased to strange; the bazaars of Damascus and Isfahan were familiar to . And so 1 could not ! feel, 'How trivial,' when 1 \valked for the first time through bazaar in Jidda and saw only loose mixture and form1ess re petition of what elsewhere in tlle East could observe in far greater . bazaar was covered witb planks and sackcloth as protection against the steaming heat; ! of holes and"cracks tbln, tamed sun rays shone through and gilded .the twilight. kitchens before \ Negro boys were roasting small pieces of m! 011 spits over glowing charcoaI; coffee shops

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with bumished brass utensils and settees made ! palm fronds; meaningless shops fuH ! European and Eastem junk. Every where sultriness and smell of fish and coral dust. Everywhere crowds people - innumerable pilgrims in white and the colourful, worldly citizens of Jjdda. in whose faces, clothes and manners met all the countries of the Muslim world: perhaps father from India, wblle the mother's father - himselfprobably mixture of l and Arab - have married grandmother \\'110 her father's side descended fromUzbegs and her mother's side possibly from SomaHs: 1iving traces of the turies of pi1grimage and of the IslanUcenvironment wblch knows colour bar and distinction between races. In addition to indigenous and pilgrim-borne confusion, Jidda was in those days (1927) the only place in the ijaz in wblch non-Muslims \v~re allowed to reside, You could occasiona1ly see shopsigns in European writing and l in white tropical dress with sun helmets hats their heads; over the consulates fluttered foreign fiags. All tl1is belonged, as it were, not yet so to the mainland as to the : to the sounds and smells of the port, to the ships riding at anchor beyond the pale coral streaks, to the fishing boats with white triangular sails - to world not unlike that of the Mediterranean. houses, though, were already little djf~ ferent, to the breeze with ricbly moulded fa~des, carved wooden window frames and covered balconies, thinnest screens of wood that permitted the inmates to 100k out without drance into the but prevented the passerby from seeing the interior; tbls woodwork sat like grey-green lace the waIIs of rose coral stone, delicate and extreme!y harmonious. his was longer the Mediterranean and not yet quite ; it was the coastal world of the Red Sea, which produces simiIar architec ture both its sides. Arabia, howevcr, announced itself already in the steely sky, the naked, rocky hills and ,sand dunes to\vard tIle east, and in that breath of greatness and that scarcity wblch always so strangely intermingled in an landscape.

this

TN AFTERNOON OF

the road to

tlle next day our caravan started \vindin)! its ,,,' through crowds of pilgrims.

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beduins, camels with and without litters, riding-camels, gaily caparisoned donkeys, toward the eastem gate of the town. Off and motorcars passed us - Saudi Arabia's earIiest motorcars - loaded with pi1grims and no]sy with their l horns. he seemed to sense that the new monsters were their enemies, thcy shied every time approaehed, franticaIIy veeririg toward house wa11s and moving their 10ng necks bither and thither. confused and helples$'. new time was threateningly dawning these 1311, patientAnimals, filling them with fear and apocalyptic forebodings. After while we left the white city wa11s behind and found selves 11 at in the desert - in wide lain, greyish-brown. desolate, dotted with thorny bushes and patches of steppe grass, with 10w, isolated hi1ls growing out ofit Iike islands in sea, and hedged in to the east somewhat higher, rocky ranges, bluish grey, jagged of outline, of alllife. 11 over that forbidding plain there plodded caravans, of them, in 10ngprocessions - hundreds and thousands of camels - niml behind animal in single file, loaded with litters and pi1grims and baggage, some times disappearing behind hs and then reappearing. Graduatly 11 their paths converged onto single, sandy road, created the tracks of simi1ar caravans long eenturies. In the silenee of the desert, which was underlined rather than broken the plopping of the camels' feet, the occasional calls of the beduin drivers and the 10w-toned singing of pilgrim and there, 1 was sudderily eerie sensation - so whelming sensation that might almost 11 it vision: 1 saw myself bridge that spanned invisible abyss: bridge so long that the end [ which 1 had was already 10st in misty dis13nce, while the other end had hardly g to unveil itself to the . 1 stood in the middle: and heart contracted with dread as 1saw myself thus halfway between the t\VO ends the bridge - already too from the and not yet close enough to the other - and it seemed to , for 10ngseconds, that 1 would always to remain thus between the two ends, l ways the roaring abyss - \ Egyptian woman the l before li sud denly sounded' the ancient pilgrim's cry, 'Labbayk, Allahumma, labbayk!' - and dream broke asunder. From ll sides you could people skig and murmuring

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in tongues. Sometimes : few pilgrims ca11ed Qtlt in , 'Labbayk. Alla/lumma, labbaykZ' - Egyptianfellah woman sang song in honour of Prophet, whereupon another uttered ghatrafa, [! joyful of r womeB (which in Egypt is . zag/lruta):. shrill, high-pitched [ which women raise festive occasions -like marriage, childbirth, circumcision, religious processions all kinds and, of , pilgrimages. In the knightly .' times, when the daughters of cbleftains used [ ride [ war with the m of their tribe in order to spur [ [ greater bravery ( it w ( garded extreme dishonour [ aHow one of these maidens [ killed, , still \\'orse, [ ted the ), the gllatrafa was often heard field of battle. . Most of the pi1grims in litters - two ] - and the Io11ing motion of these contraptions gradually made dizzy and tortured [ nerves, 50 unceasing was [ pitching and rocking. dozed exhausted [ few moments, was awakened sudden jolt, slept again, and awoke again. From time to time the l drivers,. who accompanied the foot, caHed to their animals. another of them 5ionaHychanted in rhythm with the long-drawll-out step the camels. Toward morning , reached , were [ the day; [ the heat permitted ! only during the night. hi village - in reality nothing du1 line of shacks, coffee shops, few huts of palm fronds and smaH mosque - was the traditional hltig-ll:C [ caravans halfway between Jidda and . landscape was the same as it had the way since we left the coast: desert with isolated hills and there and higher, blue mountains in the east wblch separatoo [ coastal lowlands [ [ plateau of Central r. ! now this desert around us resembled buge with in numerable tents, camels, Iitters, bundles, confusion of tongues - r, Hindustani, Malay, Persian, Somali, Turkish, Pashtu, mh, and God knows bow . This was l gathering of nations; but was wearing the leveling ihram, [ differences of origin were hardly noticeabIe and the races appeared almost like . pilgrims were tired after tbe night , but ] few among them knew how to utilize this time rest; to 5!

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them travelling must have very unusual enterprise, and to it was the first joumey of their lives - and such joumey, toward such goal! hey had restless; they had to about; their hands had to search for something to do, even if it was than opening and retying their bags and bundles: other wjse would have 10st to the world, would tirely '1ost oneself in unearth1y happiness as in sea ... This seemed happened to the family in the tent next to , apparently pilgrims ! village. hardly gd word, cross-Iegged the gt'ound and stared fixedly toward the east, in the direction , into the desert that was fil1ed with shirnmering heat. There was such faraway in their faces that you felt: they were already the House God, and almost in i . were remarkabIe beauty, l, with. shoulder-long hair and glossy black beards. One of them lay ill : his side crouched two young women, like colourfullittIe birds in their voluminous red-and-blue trousers and si1ver-embroidered tunics, their thick black tresses hanging down their backs; the younger the two had tmn gold ring in nostril. In the afternoon the sick died. women did not raise lament as they so often do in Eastern countries: this had died the i1i, sacred soil, and \vas thus blest. he washed the corpse and wrapped it in the same white cloth ,which had wom as his last garment. Thereafter them the , cupped his hands to his mouth and out loudly the to : 'God is the Greatest, God js the Greatest! hee i~ God u! God, and Muhammad is God's Messenger! ... the dead! God have upon ll!' And ll sides the ihram-clad flocked to gether and lined in rows behind imam like soldiers ! . When the prayer was over, they dug , old read few passages the , and then they threw sand over the dead pi1grim, who lay his side, his faced turned toward .
BEFORE S UNRISE ON SECOND morning the sandy plain narrowed, the hills grew closer together; we passed through gorge and saw in the pale light of da'.vn ( first buiIdir.g5 01

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; then we entered the streets of the 01 City with the rising sun. houses resembled those in .Jidda with their carved orie1 windows and enclosed ba1conies; but the stone of which they were built seemed to 00 heavier, massive than the light coloured coral stone of Jidda. It was still early in the in, but already thick, brooding heat was growing. Beforemany of the houses stood which exha':!sted were sleep ing. Narrower and narrower the streets through which our rocking caravan moved toward the centre of the city. As n1 few days remained the festival of the /,, the crowds in the streets were lal"ge. Innumerable ilglIS in the wh,ite , and others who had temporarily changed againinto their everyday clothes - clothes from countries ofthe Muslim \vorld; water carriers bent under waterskins or under yoke weighted two old cans used as buckets; donkey drivers and riding-donkeys with tinkling bells and gay trappings; and, to make the confusion complete, camels coming from the opposite direction, loaded with empty litters and 001 lowing in various tones. There was such in the narrow streets that might thought the /lajj was not thing that had taken place ll for centuries but surprise for which the people had not prepared. In the end our caravan ceased to caravan and disorderly tang]e of camels, litters, baggage, pilgrims, l drivers and noise. 1 had arranged from Jidda to stay in the house of well-known JllUtal~'lvif, or pilgrim's guide, of Hasan Abid, but there seemed to little of finding him or $ house in this chaos. ! sudden1y someone shouted, 'Hasan Abid! Where are pilgrims for Hasan Abid ?'- and, like from out of bottle, young appeared before us and, with deep bow, re questedthat we follow ; had sent Hasan Abid to lead us to his house. After opulent breakfast served the mutalvl'r'ij, 1 \vt out, led the same young \ had received us earlier. to the Holy Mosque. We walked through the teeming, buzzing streets, past butcher shops with rows of sk.inned sheep hanging OOfore them; past vegetable vendors with their goods spread straw mats the ground; amidst swarms of flies and the smell of vegetables, dust and perspiration; th through narrow, co\'cred

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bazaar in whicb only clothiers had their shops: Cestival colour. As elsewhere in the bazaars of Westem Asia and North Africa, the shops were l nicbes about yard ground level, \vith.the shopkeeper sitting cross-legged, surroundcd his OOlts cloth of all materials and colours, whJle hung in rows aIl manner of dress articles for ll the nations of the uslim world. And, again, there were people of al1 races and garbs pressions, with turbans and bareheaded; some who walked silently with lowered heads, perhaps with rosary in t.heir hands, and others who were running light feet through the crowds; supple, brown boclies of Somalis, shining like . trom between the folds of theit toga-like garments; Arabs from the blghlands of the interior, lean figures, narrow of [, proud of bearing; heavy-limbed, thickset Uzbegs from Bokhara, who in tbls heat had kept to their qui1ted kaftans and knee-high leather OOots; sarong-clad Javanese girls with faces and almond-shaped eyes; Moroccans, slow of stride and dignified in their white burnuses; Meccans in white tunics, their heads with ridiculously small white skullcaps; Egyptian fellahin with excited faces; wblte-clad Indians with black eyes peering from under voluminous, snow-wblte turbans, and Indian women so impenetrably shrouded in their wblte burqas that they looked like walking tents; huge Fullata Negroes from Timbuktu in indigo-blue robes and red skullcap.s; and petite Cblnese ladies, like embroidered butterflies, tripping along minute, bound feet that resembled the hooves gazelles. shouting, thronging in directions, so that fclt were in the midst of breaking waves of which you could grasp some detai1s but never integrated picture. Everything floated amid bun of innumerable languages, hot gestures and excitement - unti1 we found ourselves, suddenly. before of the gates of the Haram,the Holy Mosque. It was triple-arched gate with stone steps climbing up to it; the threshold sat half-naked In~ian beggar, stretcblng his emaciated hand toward us. And then 1 saw for the first time the inner square of the sanctuary, wh~ch laybelow the level the !:itreet - much 10wer than the threshold - and thus opened itself ( the like bowl: huge quadrangle surrounded sides many-pil1ared cloisters with siciul arches, and in its

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centre about forty feet blgh, draped in bIack, with broad band of gold-embroidered verses from the Koran runnillg round the upper portion of the covering: the ... This, then, was the , the goal of longing for so ins of people for 50 many centuries. reach this goa\, countless pilgrims had made heavy sacrifices throughout thc ; had died the way; had reached it only great privations; and to 1l of them tbls small, square bui1ding \vas the of their desires, and to reach it meant fulfi1ment. There it stood, a1most perfect cube (as its r notes) entirely covered with bIack brocade, . quiet isl;,nd i.1 the middle ofthe vast quadrang1e of the mosque: much quieter ." other work of architecture anywhere in the world. It \J 'ould almost - that who fust built the - for sinc~ the time of Abraham the original structure has rebuilt several times in the same shape - wanted to create parabIe of man's humility before God. builder knew that beauty of archi tectural rhythm and perfection of , however great, could ever do justice to th~ idea of God: and so confined hirnsclf to the simplest three-dimensional form igin\ - cube stone. 1 had in various Muslim countries mosques in wblch the hands of great artists b.ad created inspired works of . 1 had mosques ii1 North Mrica, shimmering prayer-palaces of and wblte alabaster; the Dome of the Rock in Jerusaler., powerfully perfect cupola over delicate understructure, dream of lightness and heaviness united without contradiction; and the majestic buildings of Istanbul, the Sulaymaniyya, the Yeni-Valide, the Bayazid Mosque; and those ofBrussa, in Asia Minor; and the Safavid mosques in Iran - roya] hannonics of stone, multicoloured ajolica tiles, mosaics, huge stalacite por tals over silver-embossed doors, slender'minarets \\'ith alab.::.ster and turquoise-bJugalleries, marbIe-vred qUJ.ndra!1gles \vith fountains age-old plantain trees; and t!!e migllty ruil1S of Tamerlane's osques in Samarkand, sl.did \' in their decay. AlI these I - but never had 1 felt so stroogly as \, before the , that the hand ofthe builder had 80 close to s religious conception. ln the utter simplicity of , in comp1ete renunciation of all beauty of lin and form, 8poke

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tbls thought: "Whateverbeauty to create with

his bands, it will on1y conceit to deem it worthy God; there

fore, the simplestthat conceiveis the greatest that do to express the g10ry of God.' similar feeling have responsible for the ] simpHcity of the Egyptian pyramids - although there man's conceit had at least found vent in the tremendous dimensions gave to bls buildings. But here, in the , even the size spoke renunciation and self-surrender; and the proud modesty Oftllis little structure had compare eartb.
18 ONL entrance into the - silver sbeathed door tbe northeast side, about seven feet above ground level,so tbat i.t only reached meansof wooden staircaS wbich is placed before the door few days the year. he interior, closed (1 saw it only later occasions), is very simple: rnarble floor with fewearpets and lamps ofbronze and silver hanging from roofthat is supported heavy wooden beams. ActuaUy, this interior special significance of its wn, for the sanctity of the applies to the whole building, wblch is the qibla - that i, the direction - for the entire Islamic world. It is toward this symbol God's Oneness that hundreds of millions of Muslims ( world over tum their faces in prayer times day. Embedded in thc eastern corner of the building and left covered is dark-coloured stone surrounded broad silver frame. s Black Stone, whicb has kissed hollow generations of gris, has the cause of misunder standing arnong non-Muslims, \ believe it to fetish taken over Mubammad as concession to the pagan Meccans. Nothing could farther from truth. Just as the is ject of reverence but not of worship, so too is the Black Stone. lt is revered as ( only remnant Abraham's original building; and because the lips of Muhammad touched it his Farewell Pilgrimage, 11 pilgrims have done the same ever since. Pro phet was well aware that 11 ( ]ater generations of ( Faithful would always foUow his example: and when kissed the stone knew that it tbe lips of future pilgrims\vouldforever meet ( memory s lips in the symbolic embrace tbus offered,

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<

beyond time and beyond death, to his entire commuriity. And the pi1grims, when they kiss the Black Stone, feel that they are embracing the Prophet and the Muslims who before them and those who will after them. No Muslim would deny that the had existed long 00 fore the Pcophet Muhammad; indeed, its significance lies ciselyin this fact. he Prophet did not claim to the founderoof new religion. the contrary: self-surrender to God - [s!att1 has , according to the , 'man's natural inclination' since tl1e da\\11 of consciousness; it was this that and Moses and Jesus and ll the other Prophets of God had teaching - the message of the OOing but the last of the Divine Revelations. Nor would Mus1im deny that the sanctuary had full of idols and fetishes Muhammad broke them, just as Moses had broken the golden calf at Sinai: for, long before tbe idols were brought into the , the God had worshipped there, and thus uhaunad did than restore Abraham's temple to its original , AND THERE 1 STOOD the temple of and gazed at the marvel \vithout thinking (for thoughts and reflec tions only much later), and out of some hidden, smiling kemel within there slowly grew an elation like song. Smooth slabs, with s.light reflections dancing upon tbem, covered the ground in wide circle around the , and over these slabs walked people, and women, round and round the bIack-ded of God. Among them were some who wept, some who loudly called to God in , and who had words and tears but could only walk with lowered heads ... It is part the hajj to walk seVen times around the : not just to show respect to tbe central sanctuary of IsIam but to lI to oneself the basic demand of IsIamic . The is symboI of God's Oneness; and the pilgrim's bodiJy movement around it is symbolic expression of human activity, implying that not n1 thoughts and feelings ..,. ll that is comprised in the terrn 'inner ' - but also our outward, active , our doings and practical endeavours must have God as their centre. And 1, too, moved slowly forward and ! part of thc

370

It.OAD

circulai flow arQund . 0fI' and 1 ecam conscious ~f man or woman near ~; isolated pictures appeared fl~t ingly before and vamshed. here was huge Negro white ihram, with wooden rosary slung like chain around powerful, black wrist. An old Malay tripped along side for while, bls anns dangling, as if in helpless confusion, gins! his batik sarong. under bushy brows - to whom did it belong? - and now lost in the crowd. Among the people in front of the Black Stone, young Indian woman: she was viously ; in her narrow,delicate [ lay strangely open earnin&, visible to onlooker's like the life of fishes and algae in the depths of crystal-clear pond. hands with their pale, upturned palms were stretched out toward the , and her fingers trembled as if in accompaniment to wordless prayer ... 1 walked and , the minutes pssed, all that had small and bitter in heart began leave heart, 1 part of circular stream - , was this the meaning of what we were doing: to aware that is part of movement in an orbit? Was this, perhaps, all confusion's end? And the minutes dissolved, and ti itself stood still, and this was tJ.e centre of the universe ..

NINB DAYS

BLSA DIED.

She died suddenly, after less than week's \ ' at first had seemed to more than indisposition du~ to heat and the unusual diet~ but latertumed out to obscure tropical ailment before which the Syrian doctors at the hospital of stood helpless.. Darkness and utter despair closed around . She was buried in the sandy graveyard of . stone was placed over her grave. 1 did not want inscription it; think ing of an inscription waslike tbinking of the future: 1 could not conceive of an future now. E1sa's little son, hmad, rcmained with for over year an ac::cclmpanied first jo~ey into the int~rior ofArama valiant, ten-year-old . But after til 1 had to good-bye to him \vell; for his mother's f~mily fina1ly per suad.ed that must sent to school Europe; then

END

371

of Elsa and stone in graveyard and darkness that was not lifted untillong afterward, 10ng after 1 had given 'J11yself up to the tirneless brace of Arabia.

notblng

eccan

-6
but we continue to sit round the gli.mmering campfire. Said has now emerged from the raging tempest of bls passion; his eyes sad and what tired; speaks to us of Nura as might speak of dear person that has died 10ng ago. 'She was not beautifu1, know, but 1 10ved .. .' above us is full with the fullness of living being. No wonder the -Arabs thought it to of the 'daugh ters of God' - the 10ng-haired Al-Lat, goddes5 of fertility, who was said to communicate her mysterious powers of procreation to the earth and thus to beget new life in humans and nials. In her honour, the young and women of ancient and Taif used to celebrate the nights of the full in - revels and unrestrained love-making and poetic contests. Out of earthenware pitchers and leathem bottles flowed the red wine; and because it wa5 so red and 50 full of excitement, the poets likened it in their wild dithyrambs to the blood of women. his proud and passionate youth poured i exuberance into the lap of Al-Lat, 'whose loveliness is like the shine of the m when it is full, and whose loftiness is like the fiight ofbIack herons' - the ancient, youthfully mighty goddess who had spread her wings from South Arabia to the north and had reached distant Hellas in the shape of Leto, the mother . From ( diffuse, vague nature worship of Al-Lat and host of other deities to the sublime concept of the God of the : it was long road that the Arabs had to travel. But, after 11, has always loved to travel the roads of his spirit, here in Arabia less than in the rest of the world: has loved it so much that his history indeed be'described as the history of quest for faith. With the Arabs, tbls quest has always aimed at the Absolute. Even in their earliest times, when their imagination filled the world around them with multitude of gods and demons, they \",cre evcr conscious the who dwelt in majesty over ll the
NJGHT IS FAR ADVANCED,

372

deities - an invisible, ungraspable Omnipotence far the humanIy conceivable - the Etemal Cause effects. he goddess Al-Lat and her divine sisters, Manat and Uzza, were ~ more than 'God's daughters', mediators between the Unknow able and the visible world, symbols of the incomprehensible forces that surrounded thechildhood of : but deep in the background ! r thought, knowledge of the was always present, always readyto 8are into conscious faith. How else uld it ? were people that had gro\vn in silenc~ and solitude between hard sky and hard earth; hard was their in the midst of these austere, endless spaces; and so they could not escape the longing after Power that would compass all existence with urigjusti and dess, severity and wisdom: God the Absolute. dweHs in infinity and radi ates into infinity - but because are within is working, is

closer 10 Ihan

'/

\'ein in u neck ...

down. zayd and Said are asleep, and nearby our three dromedaries the blanched sand and chew their cud with soft, crunching sounds, pausing from time 10 , Good animals ... Sometimes ! them shifU its position and rubs with the surface of its chest against the ground and occasionaHy blows stigl, as if . sighing. Good anlm81s. are without dfiit expression, quite different from horses, which are always so clearly outlined in their characters; yes, different from 11 t11e other animals wblch uses :... just as the desert steppc to which they belong is different from all other landscapes: without definite expres sion, swinging between contradictions, moody, and nevertheless infinitely modest. 1 cannot sleep, and so 1 wander away from the and li of the bll!ocks close . hangs low over the wst horizon and lights the low, rocky hil1s \vruch rise like phantoms out ! the dead plain. From onward, the coastal lowlands of the Hijaz flow toward the west in soft incline: series of valleys tom winding, dry stream beds. bar ren of alllife. \vithout villages, without houses, wit110ut trees rigid in their nakedness under the light. And yet it was from this desolate.lifeless land, from amidst these sdv11s

CAMPFIRE HAS DIED

END OF

ROAD

373

and naked hills, that the most life-affirmil1g faith of man's his tory sprang forth ... Warm and sti11 is the night. Half-light and distal1ce make the hil1s \ and sViay. Under the shine the pale, shimmer vibrates, and through this pale blueness glides ] escent hint, ghostly , of the colours ; but the unearthly blueness subdues them , melting witllOut transition into \vhat ~.hould the horizon, and is Iike sum mons [ unfathomable, unknowable things. Not [ f , hiddel1 in the midst this lifeless wilderness of valleys and f1il1s, lies plain of Arafat, which the pi1grims \vho ' to assemble day of the as reminder of tht Last Assembly, \ \\ to ans\ver to his [ has donc in Iife. \ often have 1 stood there myself, bareheadcd, in the \1;'llite ilgri garb, among multitude of \vhite-garbed, bareheaded pilgrims continents, faces turned t.)\vard the Jabal Rahma - the ' ' - \vhkh riscs out the plain: standing and v.'aiting through thc , througl} ( , reflecting upon tl1t ineseapabJe Day, '\\/hen you!will posed to view, and of yours \'/ill remain ' ... And as 1 std the hillcrest and gazc dov,:n toward the in visible Arafat, the moon!it of t!-,e landscape before , 50 dead moment ago, 5udden!y to life with the currents of .~Hye5, tllat passed through it and is fil!ed with the eerie voices the mi!!ions and women who v.'alked ridd(:n between and Arafat in thirteen !1Undred pilgrimages for overthii~cn hundred years. Their voices and their steps and the voices and tllC steps oftheir animals reawaken and resound anew; 1 see them walking and riding and assembling - those myriads of whitc-garbcd piJgrirns thirteen hundred years; 1 thc sounds tllair passed-a\vay days; the wings of the faith which has drawn them together to this Iand of rocks and sand and seeming deadness beat again \\'ith the warmth life the of centuries, and the mighty \vingbeat dra\vs ihto its orbit and draws own passed-away days into the present_ l ~i I.am riding over the plain - riding in thundering gaJlop the plain, amidst lhou sands and thousands of i/lram-c]ad beduins, returning from

314

RD

Arafat to - parl of that roaring, earth-shaking, irresistibIe wave of countless gaUoping dromedaries and , with the tribaI banners their blgh poles beating 1ikedrums in the wind and their t war cries tearing through the air: Rmt.oga, Rawga!' wblch the Atayba tribesmen evoke their ancestor's , answered the A~r. Aw/!' of the Barb and the lst defiant, Shammar, Shammar!' from the farthest right wing of the lwnn. We ride . rushing, Bying over the plain. and to it seems tbat we are Bying witb tbe win. abandoned to happiness that knows neitber end nor 1imit ... and tbe wind sbouts wild ofjoy into ears: 'Never again. never again. never again wi11 stranger!' brethren tbe right and brethren tbe left, of tbem nknwn to but stranger: in the tumultuous joy of our cbase, we are body in pursuit of goal. Wide is tbe world before , and in our glimrners spark of the that burned in tbe rt of the Prophet's nins. hey know. bretbren the right and brethren the left. that they fal1en sbort what was expected of thcm, and that in the flight of centuries their rt grown smal1: and yet, the promise of fu1filment has not taken from tbem ... from us ... S in tbe surging bost abandons s tribal cj for of faitb: 'We are the brethren of him who gives bimself to God!' - and anotber joins in: 'Allahu akbar!' - 'God is tbe Greatest! - God alone is Great{' And tbe t1 detachments take tbis . heyare 10nger Najdi beduins reveUing in tbeir tribal pride: theyare who know tbat tbe secrets of God are but waiting for tbem ... for ... Amidst the din of the thousands of rusbing camels' feet and tbe flapping of bundred banners, tbeir grows into roar oftriurnph: 'Allahuakbar!' It Bows in mighty waves over the heads of the tbousands of ga1loping rnen. over "the wide plain, to 11 tbe ends of the eartb: Alltihu akbar!' hese grown their wn Iittle 1ives, and now their faith sweeps them forward, in oneness, to ward sorne uncbaJ1ed borizons ... Longing longer re in smaU and bldden; it found its awakening, bl.inding sunrise of fu1filment. In tbis fuJmt, strides a10ng in 11

2 01' 2 _D

7S

God-1Pven spendour; bis stride is joy, and bis know1edse is . freedom, nd bls world sphere without bounds ... he smen of the dromedaries' bOdies, their panting and 8oort . thundering oftheir innumerabJc feet; the shoufing ofthe , the clankingofthe riflesslung saddJe-pegs. the dust and the swcat and the wildly exated around ; and sudden, gIad stillne5$ within . 1 tum around in saddle and behind the waving, weaving mass ! thousands ! wblte-c1ad riders and, nd them, the bridge over which 1 have : its end isjustbehind while its ginning is aIready Iost in the ist ! distance.

INDEX

Abd aI-Aziz ibn Saud (ins 01 saudi Ali (Muhanunad's $On-in-Iaw and t Cli) 274 tr Arabia): Ibn Saud Al-Jawf, 244 Abd al-arim, 313 Itana, 121 Abd aI-Qdir, 313 Abd aI-Wahha, Muhanunad ibn, 159 1~hwazmi (ra mathematiciar.), tr, 174 (, 232 . "348 1-. (goddess ! rtility), 371 Abd ar-Rahman (father ins Ibn Also SprQCl1 ZQrQlhustra (Nietzsche), 54 Saud), 164 tr, 171 AI-Mahdi, Sayyid Muhammad, 315, Abd ar-Rahman as-Siba'i, 231, 232 tr 336 Abduh, Muhanunad, 160, 188 Abdullah, ir (1ater ing) ...,.. AI.Marahi, Shaykh taf, 188 tr, 193 jordan, 109 tr, 198; his $ Talal, Amanullah. h, inB ! Afghanistan 112 & note 214,296 Abrabam.(in Old TestameDt), 43, 49 (, 56, 91, 186, 353 tr, 369 (see Q/.ro mma, 109 gr and Ishmael) . Anayza, 233 Abu aIa (Mubammad's sl1CCCSSOr ra cultural heritage: , Muslim and ! Caliph), 232, 276, 279 Civilization Independen<:e, 104 (, 112 312 tr Abu arayyim, 323 Arab-Jewish question, 92 tr, 105 Abu Said, 351 tr, 371 Academy Geopolitics, erlin, 299, ra, 9 Qndpassim 307 Arabian mic, 102f, 108 , 131 fI', 221 Ad-Dawisb, FaysaJ, 159, 173 (, 176, ArabiQn Nights, 75, 157 221, 233 tr; his raid into lraq, 200, Arafat. Plain , 23, 373 221 '; leads eduin revolt against rj, 220, 221, 247 Anei, 107 Ibn Saud. 224 tr, 229 ff, 245 , 327 Ar,.Rumma, Wadi, 236 Adler, Alfred, 59 Artawiyya, 221 , 226 f Afghanistan, 214, 295 (, 298 Agha, Ali; letter ( author, 253.tr, 2 Asad, uhnmad: as Pakistan's 272, 280; in Dasht-i-Lut desert Minister Plenipotentiary ( U.N, 1. with author, 255 , 8; his conversion ( Islam, 1, 8, 16, 47, 89, 16.9 , 188, 197 (, 214 (, os Salim, 16, 3 J3 295 ff, 305 tr, 309 tr; , friendship Ah/-i-lJdith movement (in India), 160 Ahmad, Sayyid (the rand Sanusi), 40, with ing Ibn Saud, 16 tr, 39; death 3]2 tr, 324 tr, 329, 332, 335 t, 343; his wife Elsa, 16,38,40,47,360, auacks Briti~hin Wor1d War 1, 317 370; his ilg~ 10 , 16, (, 325, 337, 343; in t, 318 23, 40, 47, 356 tr, 361 tr; is lost Ahmad, Shah lran, 267 in desert, 22 tr; ! Khan-ihet Ajman, ( (tn"be), 226, 242, 247 vanserai, 32 tr; mission ( Cyrenaica, 40, 47, 322, 325 tr; Itis AI"Afghani: see Jamal ad-Din alAfghani Arab wife in Medina, 47, 154,283; AIAqsa Mosque (Jerusalem), 89 s childhood in Poland and Austria, AI-Ataywish, 323 50 tr; religious education, 55; AlAzhar University (Cairo), 188 (, university studies in Viea, 57 tr; 193, 196 gins jouma]istic career in erlin, Alassam, Abdullah, 233 tr 60 tr; interviews dme Gorky, 64 I-ttli (An;b mthematici), 348 tr; his rs! joUrney ( MiddJe East, AJeppo, 199,206 68 tr, ] 36, ]84 (; reads Lao-tse, 71 tr; Alcxandria, 76, 79, 342 his,stay in Jef\lS31em, 87 tr; becomes Algeria, 107,315 , special esdt Frank/urter Zeitung, 96 tr; s book the N AIHasa, 17~ " 226, 245 AI-Hufuf,176 s! (Unromantis..ches Morgen/Qnd), Al-Idris, Sayyid Muhammad (1ater 97, 138, 142 tr, 185; visits ( C8iro, king of ), 318, 320,337 tr 105 tr, 185, ]87 tr; and Transjordan, 377

378

INDBX

109 6; travels to and in Syria, 113 fI'; slays in Damascus, 125 If; rcads the , 128 (,190 (, 214, 00, 309 ; and Elsa, 14. (, 144, 300, 347, 360; his marriage to ra child bride, 154 "; dreams ! future convcrsion ' Islam, 168 ff; his serond journey to Middle East, 185, 198 "; Islamic studies in Cairo, 187 ff, 198: malaria allack, 194, 196; first meeting with Z1yd, 200; joumey from Aleppo to Baghdad, 199 ff, 206; shooting incident in bazaar ! Baghdad, 208 ; travels in Iran and Afghanis , 210 ", 216, 255 If, 272 If, 296; secret joumey to Kuwayt, 229 If; writes articles eduin revolt, 245 f; with ALi Agha in Dasht-i-Lut desert, 255 fI'; t Riza , 270 If; retum to and marriage ' Elsa, 300 , 306 {; first meeting witb Sayyid Ahmad. 313; journey to , 344 If Atayba (tnbes), 225 If, 374 yna, 232 Az-Zughaybi, Shaykh, 252 (, 280 Az-Zuwayy, Sidi Muhammad, 312, 317,320 If, 324, 342 Baghdad, 38, 148 (, 205 fI', 210, 223, 234, 242; shooting incident in zar , 208 f ahr, 363 :;in, 234 h, 324, 330 f,34O Balfour Declaration (1917), 93, 99 ani Suef, 329, 331 aniyas, 117 f asra, 38, 149, 228 (, 233 (, 242, 246 eduin court ! justice, 150 If ed (/khwan) revolt against Ibn Saud. 39 (,47, 159,222, 224 If. 228 ff, 246
abylon,5O

Cyrenaica, 40, 314, 316 ff, 320 ff; author'smissionto, 322, 315 , 3341f
Dajjal, of the, 292 If Damascus,1I3f,1I9 1f,I29ff,198,20I, 205, 243 f, 245, 319; bazaar of, 115 (, 153 , 3~; autbor's i, 12S tf, 185 Dammerr, Dr., 63 (, 74 Dar'iyya, 160,232 Dasht-i-Lut c!esert, 254 If David, in (in Old Te;stameot), 90 (, 296 f . Dayr azZor, 199,1f
..

rades,

5 ,292

12, 23, 40, 79 f, 104, 107, 185, 314, 316, 320, 323 If, 328, 332, 337, Bnt;~h rUIe in, 105, 316 '

340 ff, 356, 360;

Farafra, 324, 340 Farhan ibo Mashbur, 243 f; 247 Faysal, Amir ($ ! g Ibo Saud), 17 FaysaJ, g ! Iraq, 247 Faysal ad-Dawish: see Ad-Dawish Frankfurt, 137, 299 FTa"k/uTte Zeilf!1f6, 96 If, 105 (, 113, 13'ff, 141, 18SL 198, 299, 306 f Freud, Sigmund.,8
G, 114 ,83

Ghatghat, 224 Ghazni, 298 GQrky, Madame, 64 If Graziani. neral, 321 Grasso , 59
, Jacob de, 98 (, 106, 112 Hafiz (Persian poet), 153, 213 Hagar aod Ishmael, in pre-Islamic traditioD, 354 ff Haifa, 113, 119, 228, 246 Hall, 148 (, 162, 165, 173 (, 183, 220; 223, , 231, 241, 247. 252; Ibn Saud's conquest , 159, 176; 209, 219,222,223 (pi1grimage to ), 252, 329, 369 Hamrnada Desert, 20_ Hanifa, VJadi, 232 Harb, ' (tribe), 22f1344, 374 Harun ar-Rashid, 201 Harut and Marut,legend of, 146 r, 161 Ha~n, (son ! Ali), 277 If HaHn d, 365 Hash.ish, 36

Gorky, Maxim, 64

74, 96, 141,308 BibIe, The, 43,,50, 55, 91 (, 129, 186, 288,353 f Birjand, 205 Bisayya, Fort , 222 If Bisha, \Vadi, 178 okhara, 299, 366 , 234, ~42 Buddhism, 4, 77
Cairo,1Cl5 ff, 113, 185, 187 If. 194, 198, 234,317 Christianity, , 75, 77 6, 290, 295, 303, 308
Chin,2
140,

ir,l98 erlin, 51, 60 fI',

147,192,

INDEX
ert, 29S , 298
ijaz, thc. 17,84, 110, 137, 176, 118,

379

222,224,228,328,342, 361, 372 Hinduism,4, 147 Hindg.KUsb. 47,214,296

ira, of, 14S,287 yn ($ , 274
l

If

Bujad, Sultan, 224 If Ibn Bulayhid,. Shaykh bduab, 182 C,18S ,292 , 311 I Hadhlayn, 226 I , Jablr ( sc:ientist), 348 Ibn Jiluwi, Abdul1ah, 171 Ibn Musaad. Amir, 149 If. 154. ISS. 162. 171 , 183.224,227,136 Ibn Rashid, uc , 19, 165:- 209. 231; warfare between Ibn Saud and, 148. 158. 170 If. 175 (,181 Ibn Rashid, uba'lad. 165. 170 If. 181. I Rimal. Ghadhban, , 154, 156 If 1 5aud, al-Aziz. ng, 1, 12, lS. 19. 148 (, 151, 169 1f,2OO, 231, 264. 320. 3S1; author's friendship "ith, 16 , 39; his geoerosity. , 20 r. 162: warfare between the I Rashid aod. 148. 158 (. 170 If. I7S (. 181; beduin revo1t under Ad Dawish against, lS9. 221. 214 227 23S. 245 , 326; his wife Jawhara, 163 ; his 10 for his fatber Abd Rahman, 164 ; conquest his kingdom. 165, 171 17S, 2.09. 219. 222; childhood reminiscenc:es, 16S (; as champion Isl, 166. 177, 181, 325; dreams victorY over Ibn Rashid, 171; and the lkh'Qll. 174 (, 223; his characteristit;s and railings, opposes Faysal ad-Dawish, 117 223 ff' (su l1 edu revo1t); sends author secret mission to Kuwayt. 229 ff Ibn Saud. uc or, 160.232 . Ibrahim (author's servant). 32 20S (, 210, 257, 259, 271, 296 Jkh'n. Ihe ('brethren'). 174 f, 223 (, 236. 243 (; revo1t against Ibn Saud. 224 If.227 If, 236, 239, 327 India. 2, 9, 23. 160,253 Indonesia, 2, 16. 313 lqbal, Muhammad, 2 lran. 32. 107, 130. 20, 210. 260, 263, 267 (, 272.1f, 360; author's tra\'eis in, 210 fi'. 216. 255 If, 300; polilical history of, 260, 264, 267 tr, (see a/so Riza ); melancholy mood , 274 fi', 278, 280; Sllia doctrine in, 277 If; Ar conquest Sasanian pire, 277 ff

Iraq, 12, , 130, 149 , 206, 209 8', 219, 222 8',228,231,233, 235., 247, .292 lsiac (in 0Id Tcstament), 43 lsaiah, the Pro!, 10,56 Isfahan, 206, 213, 360 Ishmael, su aaar and Isbmacl Islam, author's vei to, 1, . 16, 47, 89, 169 , 184, 188, 197 , 214 f, ?-95! 298, ~OS 8', 310 If; Wes\'s pre JudlCC inst, S , 190, 291; and hristianity, 7S, 147,290, 303. 308; doctri of oriPnal SiD in, 128, 147, 192; and Muslim c;ivili. zation, 1~3 (~ 190 If, 277, 282 (,297, 304 ; and legend arut and Marut, 146 ; and Wahbabism, 110, J60 [, 175 ; [ 8aud as champion , 166, 177, 18J, 315;an inteUectual, t emotional, proposition. 197, 300; absence of pricsthood iD, 215, 301 ; schism into Sunoi and . ShUtes. 276; its priociplo elcctive success.ion to the Caliphatc. 216; in lran (S1ria .doctri~ 271 8'; and womao" socia1 POS.i110i1" 2j3 8', 297 ; hostility to Muhammad's teadJing in :, 289 If; its ncep! nC the irue fULction liOciety, 30) 11'; preseot d fai1ure to irnlemet origina1 teaching of, 304 ; and the Sanusi Order, 314 (, 327 Islamic cu1ture: see Muslim civili2ation Islamic Law, 39, 186,302, 328; reaaI ing ia nd women. 284 { Istamic scholai'ship, 188 If, 282 . Ismail adh-Dhibl, 329 f Jsta.nbul, 113, J36

or

JabaJ. Akhdar, 40, 332 If, 336, 4 (in Old Testament),188 Jaghbub, 314, 332, 340 llu, 332, 340 Jamal d-Din l-Afgbai. 160, 188 Java,23 Jeremiah, the Prophet, 56 Jerusalem, 8J, 87 If, 109,113,199 Je\vish-Arab qllestion, 92 8', 10S, 199 Jidda, 17, 222, 245, 326, 358, 360 (,
J

Jihad, 160, 315, 314

363, 36S

Jinns, the. 14, 38.218 If, 360

Judaism, 55 , 7S, 353
the (in ), 17, 88, 313, 354, 356.367 If
Kabul, 214. 295 , 298, 360
Kandahar.298
Kantara,8O
Karbala, 206, 276

380
emaI tatk.

INDEX
110. 136, 268,
171. 173 . Muhammad, he Prophet, 7. 86. 88, 166, 178. 187. 191 C.197. 232, 286 . 301 . 353. 369.; hisfst n:ve1ation in cave ira, 145, 'f87 ; bis city cdioa. 248 , 251 ;.humanaess , 251. 301; s success9lS to the caJiphate. 2.76 ff; ~is tomb in edina. 286; his wife hadija. 288; hostility ( his teacbing in , 289 tr; bis prophetic: mission, 301; bis last pi!grimage to . 344, 368 Muhammad ($ ing Ibn Saud), 163 uhaunad ibn Ali as Sani. 314 -Mujo/ridill, the (fighters the SliDusi Order), 316 , 320 , 32.3 . 337 tr Mumau, . W. 61 f Musaylima (the 1"a1se prophet'), 232 MusIim civilization, 153 , 348 ; European encroachment , J04 ; dec . 190. 193,282 , 2.97. 304; Is1am and, 153 , 190 , 279. 282 , 297. 3lf Mus1im 'Catalism', 158 , 190 tann (ra poet), 152 Mutayr, the (tribe). 220 , 222. 224 , 240. 247 Naif au ilab, 247 Najd, 17. 19 . 23, 38,136,148 . IS9 , 173, 175, 179, 183, 222 tr, 228, 231.

Mubarak, Sbaykh of Kuwayt, 166"

balid ($ in Ibn Saoo), 163 han-i-Khet caravllDSel'8i. 32 IJ haDiqin. 210 irman (provinc:e Ira). 32, 216.
irmansbab. 274 KlilnischeZeilug. 307 n. the. 28.110.166.170.177.187.

khadUa (wife Muhammad). 288

297.319

2S4f.2S8

300 . 309 ; encouragesscieoceand lming, 191 . 297; openi SIII'Q . 214 ; reveJation to Muhammad . 287 ; cohesion between its mora1
teacbiqa1lA its practical guidaoc:e.
3'

195. 251. 285. 291. 295. 299 . 315. 369; author studics. 128 . 190. 214.

Kurra. 324. 335 ff Kucl1uk han. 266 Kuh, Antoa, 62 I(urdistalf: 211 tr. 272 Kuwayt, 40. 149'. 166 . 170 IJ. 226 . 233 tr. 246.: apthor's sec:m jourey 00,229 ff

Lao-tse. 71 IJ

. . bano.93

Lawrence.

155.243

Libya.47. 104.314 . 332; SliDusi figbt ! independeoc:e . 312, 317 Lw6w. 51. 54
ghri.

Mansur

21,248

al-ssa.

the (tribe), 323

183

197

214.

2.32 tr, 2SO

Marsa Matruh, 342 . , 9. 16 ff. 37, 41, 68, 87. 89, 93, 164, 178 , 225, 253, 287, 320, 344IJ, 370; author's pilgrimages , 16.23, 40, 47, 217, 356 ff, 361 ffj cave of Hira oear, 145.287; Ibn Saud's quest . 176, 224 , 233; Muham mad's tein in, 289 tr; Mosque the at. 313, 365 ff; Sanusi fraternity in, 314 ; Muhammad's last pilgrimage , 344. 368; and story ! Hagar and Ishmae1. 354 . Medina. 24, 41,89, 148, 154 (. 176.222, 224. 245. 249, 289. 312, 327.342, 344; 'City ! the Prophet. 248 (.25 1 ; the 1 Mosque !, 249. 286 . 310; bazaar . 250. 252; library ,
2~2~

Neue Ziircher Zeitunz, 253. 307 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 54, 59 Nubla, 107 Nufud, (" 10 . 38. 43. 183. 244, 2S2 Nuri asb-Shaa1Do, 243
Opium, 36, 255, 27~
Original Sin, 77, 128. 147, 192
Palestine. 50, ii), 109, 112 . 116. 123 , 185, 228; Arab-Jewish question in, 92 tr, 105 Psychoanalysis, 58 (, 74. 168

Qasr Athaymin, 10 f Qisma, 32

Rarnadan (month). 187 r Ranya. 38 Riyadh.15, 17,20,38 (. 159.164. 165 r. 170. 172 ff. 223 ff. 227. 230 ff, 245. 247 Riyal (!;ilve!' coin), 234, 239ff. 243.245 Riza h ( Miriister. later Shah ! 'r). 2S4, 264, 270 ff; ~ rise to f\Ower. :54, 2 ff

Meshhed. 205 Metulla, 116 (. 119 (, 123 f . 104. 107 Moses. 145, 186,369 " Mu'awiyya (fifth Caliph).276

INDBX
Riza Tawfiq 8, Dr.,HOC

381

Russia, 64, 266, 299

Tripoli, 198, TripolitaDia, 316

Salih, Muhammad, 349

SaUum, 339 Sausi Order, 160, 313 fi'; earlyhistory , 314 tf; waging war 1ndepen dence iD renai. 316, 318 tf, 326 ff, 334 11'; in World War 1,316 Saod, Amir (eldest $ ing Ibn Saud, now ina Saudi Abia), 167 ff 5au1, KiDg (iD Old Testamcnt), 91 Schulenburg, Count \'00 der, 270 cuta, dervisbes at, 195 ff Shakib ArsIan, Amir, 178 ShaqJ;8, 231 ff Shanr yn, in the Hijaz, 93, 110, 176 , 181, 224, 233; SbarifiaD CamiJy, 110,222, 228 Shia doctrine, 277 ff Sraz, 2, 206 Si, Dr. lleinrich, 137 , 306 Sinai Desert, 81 11', 135, 184 Siwa, 331 , 340 Spain, 95, 192 Speng1er, 00, 59 Steek.1, enann, 59 Sudan,107 Su\luba, the, 238 fI' Sykes-Picot Agrcement (1917), 93 Syria, 50, 93, 95, 107, 130 , 149, 185, 192, 211, 229; author's travels to and in, 113 tf, 198 ff
z, 205 Ta'iC, 224 , 371 Talmud, he, 55 Tashkent, 299 , 10 , 21, 41, 68 TehJ;8n,206, 253 tf, 260, 264, 267 , 270 , 280; bazaar , 260 fI' T~/eg'(JQI(PC Amsterdam), 307 Transjordan, 109, , 185, 198, 228, 242

Turkestan. 2. 299

Turkey, 136, 175 , 185, 195, 1.99,210, "243,316, 318 ff (son King 100 Saud), 164 Umar (sec:ond Caliph), 277, 219 af-Mukhtar, Sidi, 40, 318, 320 ff, 326 . 335 11' Umayyad Mosque (in Damascus), 121 United Telegraph, 63, 6s , 73 , 97

u.s.s.a..," Russia
USSYSIIkiD. , 92

uthman (daird Caliph), 276,279, 286

V: der euIe, Dr., 137 Vienna, 51, 56, 74, 136 , 168

Vitel6, SipoI, 194, 196

Wahbabism, 110, 159 , 232, 282; _ IIISO Abd aJ-Wabha, Muhammad Waraqa (kinsman wife). 288
Weizmar,

ibn

MuIJ;immad's

94 ,ff WorldWar 1, 56 f, 59, 70, 155, 175, 256,266, 3Ji6

Dr

Cbair,

Zmviya (Iodge , SanusiOrder), 314, 342 Zayd ibn Ghanim (author's ion), 10 t1IIil pDSs;m; his physiquc and characteristics, 11, 11, 67; joins author in :. 37 , 68, 208; first
author's liCe in bazaar aghdad, 208 ; and the Jinns, 219 , 237; secret journey 10 Kuwayt, 230 fI', 25 ff; mission to Cyrenaica, 327 ff zia ad-Din ( Minister lran), 267 Zionism, 74, 92 ff, 105, 111, 185 Zoroastrian cult, 277
meetg

with.author, 200

saws