Suddenly, one of the Zikr leaped into the middle of the ring and began to utter loud gasps in time with the words of the others. More and more of the Zikr joined in until they were all on their feet gasping in unison.
The gasping quickened. Someone else sprang into the centre of the ring and began to spin like a top, the skirt of his gown flying out around him like a huge umbrella. Other Zikr started to jump up and down and some of them rushed round the ring contorting their bodies and making little stabbing motions with their hands. All of them were screaming. The music rose to new heights. The uproar was terrific.
The man swirling in the centre stopped and stepped out of the ring. For a moment the music faltered. Then there was a piercing scream and another man sprang into the centre. He was very tall and black, a Nubian of some sort, and at once he began to leap up and down, holding his arms up so that his hands were locked above his head, all the time screaming “Allah! Allah! Allah!” He went on like this for several moments and then collapsed foaming on the ground. Two of the Zikr carried him aside.
The music faltered again and then began to pound even more insistently. Another Zikr sprang forward. This one kept bounding into the air, beating his breast and calling out, until suddenly he rushed to one side, picked up a short Sudanese stabbing spear and plunged it into his body. It seemed to have no effect. He did it again with another spear and then another. In a moment he seemed to be bristling with them.
Another Zikr began calling out for fire. Someone brought him a small copper chafing-dish full of red-hot charcoal. He seized a piece of charcoal and put it in his mouth. He did the same with another and another until his mouth was full, and then he deliberately chewed the live coals, opening his mouth wide every few moments to show its contents. When he inhaled, the coals glowed almost to white heat; and when he exhaled, sparks flew out of his mouth.
Someone brought a thorn bush into the ring and set it alight. One of the Zikr took it and thrust it up inside his robe, all the time continuing with his dancing. As he whirled round, his robe billowed out and the flames blazed up, so that his gown seemed full of fire. There was the great blaze in the darkness and above it the exalted, ecstatic face looking up to heaven.
Everywhere, now, was fire. And everywhere, too, men were rushing around with daggers and spears sticking in their throats, cheeks, mouths, faces, stomachs and chests. They danced and whirled and cried “Allah” continuously. The drums beat on, the flutes shrilled, and the music swirled to new heights of passion. All over the square now people were dancing and jumping.
Beside Owen, an elderly man sprang to his feet, tore off most of his clothes, and leaped into the circle. In a moment he was jumping skyward, his face contorted, his chest heaving with great gasps of “Allah.”
The Zikr danced on and on. They did not seem to tire, nor did they seem affected by the stabbing or the fire. After whirling for perhaps five or ten minutes they would stop and step out of the ring for a moment, apparently steady and completely free from giddiness. They would pause only for an instant and then rejoin the ring.
Towards midnight the music slackened. No new coals were brought, and as the flames died out, the Zikr quietened. Their dance became a steady rhythmic leaping. Their voices, hoarse now, could manage only a rapt murmur of “Allah.” One by one they fell out of the dance and collapsed to the ground, until there were only two or three whirling in the middle. Eventually, their spinning, too, came to an end.
The music stopped.
A great sigh rose from the onlookers like a collective release. It was as if a spell had been broken. They sat back and as it were rubbed their eyes.
For a moment or two there was silence. And then one or two people began to talk, quietly at first but then more animatedly, and soon normal babble was resumed.
A white-bearded Zikr attendant came round with coffee and then, noting Miss Postlethwaite, returned with almond cakes.
“We should eat them,” said Owen, uneasily aware of the hour and thinking about Mr. Postlethwaite back in the hotel. “It is wrong to refuse hospitality.”
“I would not dream of doing so,” said Jane Postlethwaite, and tucked in with relish. “It is not, of course, the kind of religious occasion that I am used to but it was most interesting.”
Owen was relieved. It was some time since he had been to a Zikr gathering and he had forgotten what strong meat it was.
A Zikr walked past him. Owen recognized him as the one who had put the blazing thorn bush inside his gown. He was dressed now only in a loin-cloth-the gown had burnt. Owen looked at him closely. There were no traces on his skin either of burns or of thorn scratch marks. He looked over to where some of the other Zikr were standing. These were ones who had stabbed themselves with spears and swords and one or two of them still had knives sticking in them. They looked very, very tired but not hurt. There was a thin trickle of blood coming from some of the wounds. It was nothing like the mutilations, however, which some of the sects practised. These were often combined with self-flagellation and then there was blood everywhere. In the case of the Zikr the intention was not to humiliate but to exalt, to demonstrate the imperviousness of the body when it is caught up in Allah’s holy rapture.
Gradually all the Zikr who had collapsed to the ground rose to their feet. Except one, who as the minutes went by remained still.
CHAPTER 3
Paul was cross.
“I said show her the sights,” he complained. “I didn’t mean that sort of sight.”
“How was I to know it would end like that?”
“Well, Christ, if they’re always sticking knives in themselves, one day it was bound to happen. Anyway, is that the sort of thing you take a girl to? People sticking knives in themselves? Jesus, Gareth, you’ve got funny ideas of entertainment. You were out on that goddamn Frontier a bit too long.”
“She wanted to go,” Owen protested.
“She didn’t know what the hell she wanted. You should have had more sense. Couldn’t you have taken her to a mosque or something? She’s religious, isn’t she?”
“She wanted to see a bit of Cairo life.”
“Cairo life, yes, but not Cairo death. Honestly, Gareth, I’m disappointed in you. Where the hell’s your judgement?”
Garvin was even crosser.
“The Consul-General has been on to me,” he said, “personally. He wants to know, and I want to know too, what the bloody hell you were doing. You’re not some wet-behind-the-ears young subaltern fresh out from England without a bloody idea in his head. You’re the Mamur Zapt and ought to have some bloody political savvy.”
“She wanted to see Cairo-”
“Then show her Cairo. Show her the bloody Pyramids or something. Take her down the Musky and let her buy something. Take her to the bazaars. Take her to the Market of the Afternoon. Take her to the bloody Citadel. But don’t bloody take her somewhere where she’s going to see somebody get his throat cut.”
“He didn’t actually-”
Garvin paused in his tirade. “Yes,” he said, in quite a different voice, “that was a bit odd, wasn’t it? They usually know what they’re doing. However”-his voice resumed its previous note-“the one thing you’re supposed to be doing is handling this pair with kid gloves. Taking this girl to a Zikr gathering is not that.”
He glared at Owen, defying him to defy him. Owen had enough political sense at least not to do that.
“And that’s another thing,” said Garvin. “You were supposed to be showing them both around. Both. Not just the girl. This is not a personal Sports Afternoon for you, Owen, it’s bloody work. This man is important. With the new Government in England, these damned MPs are breathing down our necks. They’re on our backs already. This visit was a chance to get them off our backs. The Consul-General wants to build bridges. Any bloody bridge he wanted to build,” said Garvin pitilessly, “is shattered and at the bottom of the ravine right now. Thanks to you. Postlethwaite is going crazy. He’s demanding apologies all round. The Consul-General’s apologized, I’ve apologized-”