Day Forty Seven
Tonight, I had a very strange dream. I
dreamed that I was living alone on some deserted island. I dreamed that I had always lived
alone on that island, and that I had always been a man, an adult male figure, for I
didn’t seem to have any memories of a childhood.
On the island, I used to spend most of my
time wandering around in the woods that covered most of it, and I used to say to myself,
each time I had found a clearing in the woods, that one day I would be building my house
there. But I had never stayed long enough in any clearing to develop the necessary sense
of belonging and undertake the task of building a house. And I kept on wandering and
wandering, moving from one clearing to another, from one lagoon to another, from one hill
to another, without ever tiring.
One day, however, and as I was lying on the
beach counting the waves, I noticed a figure that was beginning to emerge from the depth
of the sea, it was moving slowly towards me. When it finally came close enough to me to
see it clearly, I found myself facing Muzna.
Muzna and I lived together on the island for a long, long time, and I finally had the will and
the reason to build a house in one of the numerous clearings in the woods. And our house
sufficed us, and warmed us, and gave us hope.
Then one day, another figure came breaking
through the surface of the sea, then another, and another and another, all the women I had
ever known were emerging now from the sea and coming to live with me on the island. But I
did not complain, no I did not complain, rather I proceeded immediately to build houses
for all of them. And when I was done, I took the time to make love to all of them, and by
the time I was done with the last, they had all gotten pregnant, Muzna as well, Muzna, who
had never complained or was saddened through it all, and, from that moment on, I lived in
expectation of the day when my children will come forth and fill the world.
But I woke up long before my expectation had
been fulfilled. I woke up with a couple of questions resonating in my mind:
Where are
the rest of the men in this world? And would I ever have children of my own? Would I ever
be given the chance to?
Day Forty-Eight
Tonight, I had another dream. I dreamed that
mother and Muzna had gone to the top of the minaret of the local mosque, and denounced me
to the world. They claimed that I had been abusing my mother and father and that I had
raped my brother and sister, and proclaimed myself a new God of a religion that would make
all such matters legitimate. Then, mother and Muzna called upon the good God-fearing
people of the neighborhood to stop me before I had corrupted all of their children and
spread my evil across the world, across time itself.
When the people of the neighborhood heard
mother’s words and saw Muzna’s tears, they rioted and filled the air with the
cries of “Allahu Akbar.” Then they headed down the street to my house, climbed
the stairs, broke the door of the house, forced open the door to my room, and dragged me
out of my bed and into the street and started beaten on me with their fists, with their
feet, with their sandals, with their boots, they beat me with everything they could lay
their hands and feet upon.
Then, they let go of me, and formed a circle
all around me, and from their midst, there appeared a man, who had masked his face with a
white kufiyah and was carrying a sword in his hand, a sword with a forked edge, just like
that of the Holy Imam, ‘Ali. The man started dancing around me and playing with his
swords, passing it once over my head, and once too close to my wide-open eyes, trying
obviously to scare me. When he saw that I wasn’t scared, that his attempts
hadn’t been successful, the man proceeded immediately to do what he was supposed to
do, and with two quick moves, he severed my
right arm, and my left leg, and let my body be dragged about by the crowd, and eventually
I was crucified on a wooden crescent, especially made for the occasion. My last words
were: “so be it.”
And so it was. When I woke up, I started to bleed again, form every pore in my body this time. I rushed immediately to the bathroom, and lay my twitching and agonizing body in the tub, until the bleeding stopped. This time, the bleeding-bout had lasted for more than two hours, and I still had no idea what it could signify. Strangely enough, though, I felt refreshed at the end of it. I felt pure. I felt myself strong.
Day Forty-Nine
A major row took place today between mother
and father. For father had informed mother that he had proposed marriage to Najwa’s
mother and that she had accepted. The news did not exactly come as a shock to mother, but
she was, nonetheless, shaken, for while it wasn’t strange of my father to propose to
his brother’s soon to be ex-wife, the fact that she had agreed came as a major
surprise to mother.
Faced with such a decision, mother
couldn’t help but create an either-or type situation, she threatened father that
should he insist on marrying Najwa’s mother, she would have to ask for a divorce. She
said that she had tolerated his womanizing all her life, because she loves him, for better
or for worth, and that is her problem, but she would not tolerate being one of two
officially recognized women in his life, it was just too much of her to bear. So my father
had to think, and think very hard, before going ahead with his plans, for the price that
he would have to pay in case of his marrying to another woman would be the loss of his
family.
Muzna and I stood on mother’s side,
naturally. And I could see in my father’s eyes that he was beginning to calculate his
potential losses and gains already.
Ah, how I hate this man. Not as a father
mind you, he was a good father, not perfect, not excellent, but good, and, as such, I
loved him. But as a man, he made me sick. Now the problem is, his kind of men was not
exactly hard to find in our society. You know what I think, I think a twenty-seven year
old marriage will soon be coming to an end.
Day Fifty
Another major development took place in our
traditional family today. Muzna’s husband came for an unexpected and an undesired
visit to inform that the had already initiated the divorce procedure, and that he wanted
to take his son back.
“It is my son, you son of bitch, and you will
never be able to take him away from me.”
“It is my son too, and sooner or later,
the law will award him to me, so make it easier on yourself and on him, and give him to me
now, my new wife will treat him fairly, I promise you.”
These are the only quotable lines from the
not-so-brief conversation that had taken place, as for the rest of it…well, you know
how these things go.
The major development took place after the
bastard’s departure. Muzna would not contemplate, and rightly so, the idea of some
strange woman raising her son, especially a woman of the type that asshole will most
definitely end up marrying this time. But, what could we do? The fucked-up Islamic Law was
on his side?
After two hour of debate, a solution finally
imposed itself. We have an uncle who lives in America, we will send Muzna to live with
him, one way or another, he’ll help her legalize her situation, and she will stay
there with her son for as long as it would prove to be necessary, in other words, forever.
We will visit her every now and then of course. But we had to act fast, and before her
lousy husband should take the necessary steps to prevent her from traveling, if he
hadn’t done so already, in which case, bribery and calling out favors would have to
come to the fore.
And that was that. One moment, one single
moment in time, had deprived me of Hisham. Now, another similar moment in time was about
to deprive me of Muzna. Well, faced with this kind of ultimatum, Muzna and I decided to
resume our affair, mother would understand, we were sure. So tonight, and in spite of all
that had taken place, turned out to be beautiful, intoxicatingly beautiful.
Day Fifty-One
“My sister will be leaving soon.”
“Really? Where to?
“To America. To our uncle’s place
in Michigan.”
“Hmm. So the main competition is
finally leaving. Well, I can’t say I am very sorry.”
Everybody knew everything, it seems, except
me. I mean, how could Ange have known about me and Muzna? True, I had often spoken about
Muzna, but how could anyone deduce from my carefully chosen words the nature of our
affair? It is not even natural for people to deduce the existence of such affairs, such
affairs had to be exposed directly for anyone to know that they are really there, that
they are really taking place. That was, at least, what I had thought until I heard
Ange’s casually made statement.
“Does that mean I’ll be number one
in your life now? I mean, she was my only serious competitor, wasn’t she? Wasn’t
she?”
“I don’t know, Ange. I don’t
know. I really don’t know.”
Day Fifty-Two
I paid Najwa another visit today, and it was
just as I had predicted, she wasn’t able to say no to me. In fact, I had a hard time
convincing her to let go of me when it became time for me to go. She wanted to see more of
me soon of course, and I promised her that it will be so, soon.
Day Fifty-Three
An unexpected visitor cam to our house,
today. It was Lama, one of Abu Adnan’s seven daughters who, as I had said, were
completely unknown to us. She said she had heard about us plenty of times from her father,
and that this had encouraged her to come and make our acquaintance. In fact, she said, it
was a wish of her father for her in particular to do so one day. She was looking at me
when she said this. And I understood. Abu Adnan’s wish is my command. I’ll
see you soon.
Day Fifty-Four
A friend of my father had died two days ago,
so my father and I went to his place today to take part in the consoling of his family. He
was an assistant to the minister of trade, or something to this effect, but was far more
important than this title would suggest. And his daughter, by the way, had gone to the
same high school as I, but I hadn’t expected to see her today, women and men are
separated on such occasions, this being an old Islamic tradition and all. Still, within a
few moments of my arrival, I did see her.
Father and I were sitting with the rest of
the male consolers in the big garden of this man’s villa listening to Qur’anic
recitations, when I saw her figure in the balcony, she noticed me too and gestured that
she wanted to see me. I took leave from father saying I needed to go to the bathroom, and
went to the back entrance of the villa where she was waiting for me. She took me straight
by the hand, and dragged me behind her through the busy kitchen and up the stairs to the
second floor, and immediately into a nearby bedroom. It was only then that she began to
talk.
She said that this was the only place for us
where we could talk quietly, she said that she was missing me and our little group and the
school days, and she inquired as to my health and well-being, and Muzna’s of course.
Then she informed me that she had chosen not to continue her studies and had gotten
married a little less than two months ago, and…, and she was about to tell something
else, when I drew near to her all of the sudden and kissed her.
She was surprised at first, then she
relaxed, then she began to respond, then I pushed her up against the wall and let her legs
drop along my sides, and pushed my pelvis against hers, and made her feel my erection, in
response, she sent her tong deep into my throat, and then I, I knew I will be seeing much
more of her in the days to come.
Oh, the days to come. Oh, the days to come.
These are all premonitions, I know, these are all parts of a necessary phase. I was
emptying myself out now, and I will be emptying myself still in the days to come. I have
to give much more than my semen and my blood to this forever demanding world.
Day Fifty-Five
I passed by Su’ad’s clothes store
in my wanderings around the streets today, it was quite accidental really. But since I was
there, I thought it would nice to stop for a chat. Indeed Su’ad was very happy to see
me, luckily that had not been the shift of Najwa’s mother otherwise the situation
would have proven rather awkward. Su’ad, too, seemed relieved that this was the case.
Still, she dragged me to her little office in the back of the store and away from the
looks of her curious assistants and customers, and closed the door behind us. Then, she
kissed me on the cheeks, and after hesitating a bit she gave a quick kiss on the lips,
then she smiled, sat down, and we began chatting.
She said that she was sorry that Muzna had
to leave, but that it was the right think to do in the circumstances. She said she was
sorry, too, about the developments between mother and father. She said that I should
expect a divorce, and I agreed. She said that I should be strong, that I should always be
strong, and should never, never, be a stranger, for she wanted to see more of me, much
more of me, in the days to come. Then she told me to get the fuck out her shop, and go
spend some time with my sister.
But before I did so, I went to Ange’s
place, and made love to her for hours. Thus, I became too tired to do anything with Muzna
tonight.
Day Fifty-Six
Mother did finally do an inventory of
Hisham’s belonging today. She had decided to donate all of his things to the local
charities, but kept a few items to herself to remember him by, and asked if Muzna and I
could take a look around in his room, perhaps we too could find some things we would want
to keep. And there was that wooden box of his, she hadn’t looked in it yet, so she
told us to look there ourselves, it was filled with religious books, she was sure, and I
might want to keep some of them myself.
Why not? They could be useful.
After a few minutes, Muzna and I decided to
keep only some of Hisham’s CDs, there was nothing else of his that interested us.
Then, we opened the wooden box, and as mother
had told us, it was indeed filled with religious book. We took them out one by one, and I
deiced that I would keep them all, many of them were obviously not read, he had bought
them on a whim, it seems, perhaps thinking he could be able to compete with me in this
regard one day.
Damn it, he had always been jealous of my voracious appetite for books.
As Muzna and I were picking up the last few
books from the bottom of the box, I noticed a little hole in the side of it, I inserted my
finger in it, and I could feel something inside - it was a secret drawer, and there was
something in it. Muzna and I looked at each other, then looked back inside the box,
then I, somehow, managed to pull open the drawer, and out came pouring some magazines and
videotapes. They were all pornographic in nature, and all of them dealt
with…homosexuality.
Damn. I couldn’t help it. I had to
laugh. I just had to laugh. And soon Muzna, too, was laughing. We were both laughing,
wholeheartedly laughing. And why not? Why not?
“This traditional family of ours is
killing me. A homosexual brother, who managed to keep the fact of it a secret, as indeed
he should have considering the nature of the society he lived in, a brother and a sister
who are having an incestuous affair, a womanizing father who would fuck God Himself should
he turn out to be a beautiful woman, and an omniscient mother. Oh, yes, I am sure she
knows about this thing, I am sure. I am really sure.”
And I fell on my back laughing, and Muzna
fell on me. Suddenly we both began wrestling like we had used to do a long time ago, and
next thing we know, we started wiggling out of our clothes, and within a few delicious
minutes, Muzna began to slide up and down my penis. At this moment, we heard the door to
the room getting locked, it must have been mother practicing her favorite hobby of
protecting us from ourselves.
Day Fifty-Seven
A miracle happened in the airport today. I
said goodbye to Muzna, and she said goodbye to me, without making a scandalous scene of
it. For a long time, hell, for all of my life, the only sense of belonging I had, linked
me to Muzna, and now here it was, the only link I had to the life I once knew, there she
was on her way to America.
Still another miracle happened today. It
happened when I was lying with Ange in bed. We had made love, but I was still too worked
up, too agitated to settle down, I yearned for something more. I yearned. And I yearned.
And the yearning was killing me. I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t help it, so I
started to cry. Yes, I started to cry, I started to weep just like a baby, so Ange held me
in her arms just like she would hold a baby drawing my head to her chest. So I kissed her
chest.
Yes, I kissed her chest, and I licked her
chest, and I licked her nipple, then I sucked on it, I sucked on it so hard, Ange had to
issue a muffled cry. Was it a cry of pain? Was it a cry of joy? I didn’t know, I
didn’t stop to care or think. She didn’t let me. She didn’t let me. So I
kept on sucking and sucking, and all of the sudden milk began pouring into my mouth, like
the well of zamzam[1] it began
pouring. Like the well of zamzam.
Day Fifty-Eight
Today, I found myself standing in front of
Su’ad’s shop again. This time, however, I didn’t have to go in, it was she
who came out. She came out, she took me to her car, and a half an hour later, I was in her
apartment, in her bedroom, in her bed, wiggling on top of her, enjoying the nakedness of
her, that nakedness that I had long craved.
And when I started to push deeper and deeper
into her, and as the echoes of joy reverberated through the air around me, she pulled me
closer to her, flattening her breasts against me, and she whispered in my ears: “it
was me, you fool, me that you needed all this time, not Muzna, not Muzna.”
At this moment, and as I was about to
ejaculate into her, I pulled away, I pushed
my upper half as far as possible away from her, I lifted my head heavenwards and I cried
with all the venom and all the hate I had inside of me: “Muznaaaaa.” Then I
began to bombard Su’ad’s womb with life-full projectiles that were all destined
to die.
Day Fifty-Nine
By today, I had fulfilled all the promises I
had recently made. It’s probably for this reason that I feel whole. I have never felt
whole before. This is a new sensation for me. There was no one left in my life now but
Su’ad. Yet, nobody was angry with me, nobody was upset. They all understood that it
had to be done.
They had all been anticipating the coming of
such a moment, even long before I had the chance to prepare them for it. It doesn’t
matter though. It doesn’t matter. The past does not matter anymore. I am a free man
now. I have finally come to accept who I am. I have finally come to understand the nature
of my role in this world. All the veils that had been blocking my vision got dropped. All
the veils got lifted.
Yes. All the veils got lifted as I finally
came to understand and accept who I am. That is why today, and for the first time in my
life, I got transformed, no, no, that’s not it, I didn’t get transformed,
rather…I transformed myself, yes, transformed myself, I transformed myself into a
bird, a beautifully colored bird. And I went soaring through the air, soaring through the
various layers of the atmosphere, soaring through the empty space, circumambulating the
earth, circumambulating history itself, circumambulating the universal continuum that is
space-time. I was free, I was free. I am free.
I shall write no more after today, for birds
do not write. They just soar. And soar. And never stop soaring. Would you care to join me?
[1] The famous well dug in the ancient city of Makkah by none other than the Prophet’s own
grandfather, and in some respects, perhaps even mentor. In time, it managed to gain for
itself a certain religious significance as Muslim pilgrims fell into the habit of bringing
gourds and bottles filled with its precious
water back to their countries of origin, believing its water to possess a certain healing
potential. The practice is still quite common today.
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lust for salvation, Brother, as though it were a woman, and I - a man.
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