He stopped suddenly and gave me a quizzical look, but I did not show any sign of wanting to respond or agree with him.
“At my circumcision ceremony,” he went on, “my late father sacrificed a sheep and named me Hassan. He was inspired to do so by Hassan ibn Thabit, who, as you know, was the Prophet Muhammad’s own poet (Peace be upon him!), someone who accepted the Prophet’s eternal message and became a Muslim, thus saving himself from the proverbial valleys in which poets would lose themselves.* That is why, from my childhood days up till now, you’ll find me every morning reciting as many of the beautiful names of God as I can remember. My entire aspirations are focused exclusively on what is good. I married a woman who had the feminine form of my own name, Hasna’. I always treated her kindly. When we did not have any children, she wanted to get divorced, and I let her go with all due charity. I still adhere to the same principles and beliefs. I particularly abhor all thought of the use of violence; in my attitude toward everything, I always make judgment calls and advocate what is the most acceptable. My constantly repeated slogan is: yes to the good and beautiful; no, and no again, to violence. If you believe someone, you’ll get the truth. I have never beaten a prisoner, even though he may be a hardened reprobate. I’ve never tortured anyone, or even spat in anyone’s face, be they male or female. That’s the way I was born and brought up. Never in my life have I sacrificed an animal, even a lowly chicken, so how on earth could I do it to a human being? When it comes to things like hangings and executions, whether in Islamic domains or in the history of every kind of political and religious system, my entire body recoils and my soul shudders in horror. I’ll admit that, once in a while, my imagination — but it is only that — leads me to feel like flaying the hides of certain nasty individuals, too big for their own boots; I have the urge to tear them limb from limb and throw them to the famished hyenas and lions. But now, tell me about your own violence.”
My jaw dropped in amazement when I heard his request.
“Yes, I’m talking about your violence! Quite apart from the charge that you killed your mother’s husband — something we’ll be looking into shortly, there’s the matter of the assault on a man whom you subjected to a severe beating, leaving him injured. You claimed that he had insulted your father by cursing him and spitting in his face. But your reaction clearly went way beyond the bounds of revenge and retaliation; not only that, but you also contravened God’s own words in the Qur’an: “If someone assaults you, reciprocate against him to the same degree” [Surat al-Baqara 2, The Cow, v. 194], and His command: “A soul for a soul, an eye for an eye, a nose for a nose, an ear for an ear, and a tooth for a tooth” [Surat al-Ma’ida 5, The Table, v. 45]. In your case then, you should have been applying the just dictates of Shari‘a law: a curse with a curse, one spitting with another — albeit with a bit more phlegm. But giving your adversary a nosebleed and kicking him in the face, which required that he go to the hospital, that’s wrong. No, and again no!”
Here was this judge pronouncing God’s own words in a tone of voice even more repulsive than that of a donkey — good grief, God protect us all!
“But Judge,” I said, trying to lessen the burden of guilt and put things in perspective, “all that happened a long time ago when I was an impetuous youth! In any case, it’s all been smoothed over.”
“Youth and impetuosity, you tell me! Whatever the case may be, it’s a page in your life that clearly shows a violent streak in your nature, a distinctly unsavory page that can’t be erased with the passage of time, even though you may claim that it does. Traces of violence, just like fire under straw, are liable to burst into flame at any moment. And, if there’s one thing they make clear, it’s that you weren’t praying at that time. Is that right?”
I maintained a stony silence.
“Fanaticism and violence are both repulsive,” he went on. “As it says in our Holy Book: “Prayer forbids abomination and dishonor” [Surat al-‘Ankabut 29, The Spider, v. 45], and in our true religion. . But no matter. While you are here and under guard, do you see yourself performing the five daily prayers?”
“That’s between me and my Creator,” I replied.
“No,” he interrupted, “it’s something that is significant to the investigation and interests me specifically. Otherwise how can I befriend you and trust you when I call on you to take the oath? I assume that you’ve either stopped praying as a subterfuge or to dispel certain misgivings you may have; either that, or you’re being extra-cautious and praying in secret, just like someone praying the fear prayer. Which of the two possibilities is correct?”
“In the past I’ve prayed intermittently,” I replied. “But now, while I’m your guest here, I’ve come back to it, ailing, scared, and sick. I can only perform virtual ablutions, turning towards Mecca in mind, not in actuality, reducing the number of prostrations and occasionally lying on my right side or else simply making gestures.”
I noticed him shudder and his neck muscles tighten.
“In the past,” he told me, “some prisoners managed to get hold of some pieces of stone to rub themselves clean, but then they started using them as weapons. I had to take them away and stop them using them in order to avoid chaos and preserve some semblance of order. As an exceptional gesture of sympathy I’ll do my best to get you some smooth materials to use to cleanse yourself. My only request is that you do not replicate the behavior of a former prisoner here whose file I had to deal with (I think he’s dead now). He confessed to me that he had spent his entire life right up to the time of his imprisonment only performing the prayer of fear, keeping the whole thing short and truncated and still wearing his shoes, with his finger poised over a trigger, whether real or illusory. He explained to me that the reason was that he was perpetually afraid of people and even of his own soul which was the advocate of evil. . But now let’s get back to more important matters.”
The judge now paused for a while, blowing pipe smoke either into the air or in my face. He addressed me once again in a gentle tone of voice.
“As I look at you from close up,” he continued, looking straight at me, “I can see strands of good in a fierce battle with the vicious claws of evil; God the Merciful’s armies are fighting the jinn of Satan himself. So choose which side you’re on, and God grant you victory. Place your bets on the horses and see who will turn out the winner! Up till now you’ve been following a policy involving wise silence and tacit wisdom. That’s been a good idea, in that in what follows your words will emerge decorated with pearls of truth and the clarity of accurate testimony. From the state of your cleanliness that I can smell and your general condition as I observe it, I can tell that your situation is not satisfactory. I’m going to issue instructions that you’re to be given a lengthy shower with genuine local soap and to be fed properly so that your body and soul will be suitably refreshed. Once you’ve recovered your proper state of health and are back on your feet, you’ll be spending an evening with some colored pencils. On some smooth paper you’re going to compose a brief account of the murder of your mother’s husband. There’ll be a second report as well, this one in much more detail — the central core of the whole business — about yourself, your cousin, and the group of friends you both had; this one will have to be crystal clear, fresh water for the thirsty soul. By my very life, this is obviously the right thing to do at this point; it’ll save valuable time and move things along. By relieving distress, we might say, we’ll help the nation progress. Let me also underline the advice I’m giving you: make sure that everything is expressed in the very clearest syntactic style, using only the most immaculate language in order to serve as a lamp that will illuminate the course of the thread and the excellence of what is said. All this will be a confirmation of the what the great polymath, Abu ‘Uthman Bahr al-Jahiz,* said many centuries ago, he being, as you are well aware, one of the great champions of Arabic rhetoric, of ornate discourse, and the heritage of Arabic learning. Remind me again of what it was that he said — and may God grant you a good testimonial when your final moments come!