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B ACHIR MEFTI quired time while I suffered, was tried, and waited patiently till a luminous person was awakened inside me.The Sheikh blessed this new person, and I became his comrade in that violent gloom as well as his companion, friend, and brother in God. Actually, there was a group of us, and, each month, more young men and adults joined. In this way, we became a solid force against evil. The Sheikh didn’t ask us to change our circumstances right then and there. Instead, he urged us to strengthen our belief and our faith that everything rested in God’s hands, not our own, and that God was the true guide.When the hour of truth arrived and he ordered us to change and to sing the truth, we would be cleansed of the world’s dross and filth, in preparation for sacrifice. Believe me, I didn’t understand this statement at first. What mattered was Sheikh Osama’s protection. You know there are monstrous things in prison – killers, sick men, tyranny, devastating beatings and indescribable torture. I followed him to protect myself from the violent behaviour and ruthless treatment of the others. Later, his statement made a profound impact on me, and his rhetoric became an inexhaustible enchantment. “I thanked Almighty God on High that He sent him to me. Indeed, picture this: I thanked God for sending me to prison where I would meet him, be blessed by him and become his companion. Do you think I would have changed if this encounter had not occurred and if he had not chosen to defend me? He was beside me in that stinking cell that held ten men who were ready to pounce on me like some easy prey. “I won’t keep from you the fact that all the courage I vaunted in the quarter, all my phony virility, suddenly abandoned me the moment a man approached me, put a razor blade to my throat, and asked me to hand over all my poor savings. Sheikh Osama saved me then and saved my spirit from damnation.” He began to repeat the following words of thanks in a peculiar way: “I thank Almighty God on High for that. “I thank GodWho is capable of everything. “I thank God, the Luminous Guide. “I thank Almighty God . . .The Almighty . . .” While he offered thanks in this way, his head swayed back and forth, and I thought he was raving or insane and would eventually pass out. He stopped, however, gave me a piercing look, and said with a smile: “Prison put me through immense torture, but I thank Almighty God on High Who sent me that man to rescue me from that darkness into the light of truth and who opened my eyes to the way of guidance. I learned through his grace the wisdom of dhikr and feel that, despite all my suffering, I left prison a pure man – like a newborn emerging from his mother’s 130 BANIPAL 43 – CELEBRATING DENYS JOHNSON-DAVIES
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2012 INTERNATIONAL PRIZE FOR ARABIC FICTION belly. “After I left prison, my fear, anxiety and pain increased because the trials of life outside prison are harder for me to bear than that what I underwent inside.The world is a game and a jest, an auction, full of disbelief. I can’t live here the way I lived before – messing around, sinning, and submerged in life’s superficial attractions, which always make us forget the most important thing.” When he stopped talking, closed his eyes and began to repeat words from the Holy Qur’an under his breath, I realized that this Karim wasn’t the Karim whom I had once known and whom the Belouizdad Quarter had witnessed in previous years. But, happy as I was about his transformation from that wastrel into this new, sanctified person, I felt anxious about him for some reason I couldn’t explain and feared his new image. I wondered whether people really do change or whether they redirect the violence, channelling it outwards into a new violence, which even they are unaware of – a violence directed towards anyone whomsoever. I left him in that state of silent submission and left the coffeehouse without telling him about his sister Rania and her fiancé, who had taken her from me by force in broad daylight. Who was my father? I knew without doubt that I had not wanted this question to be answered. But, all the same, I had been motivated to learn anything about my father that would help me grasp the secrets he hadn’t told me and the hidden details of his life that – I felt – had exerted a covert influence on my life and that still reflected painfully on my present. I began to recall my memories of him – these were actually very few – and the image of him that my mind retained: his face, which was brown; his tall stature; his nose that could discern any scent; his sharp glare; his round eyes, which resembled black olives. I imagined that they concealed the murky secrets of ambivalent men who are created by certain circumstances and who always fall prey to their cursed destiny. I remembered, or tried to remember, so that the truth might shine on my face like the sun. I know nothing about my father. He buried his real stories in the depths of his heart and bade them farewell. Then they departed with him.They travelled beyond my powers, frustrating my desire to view them in the way I wanted to. I keep them alive inside me like an ancient curse that would pursue me eternally. I don’t know my father or why I link my life to his life or my existence to his existence. Or was he the one who did this? Even after his death, he has continued to pursue me, dogging my steps, clouding my future with BANIPAL 43 – SPRING 2012 131

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B ACHIR MEFTI

quired time while I suffered, was tried, and waited patiently till a luminous person was awakened inside me.The Sheikh blessed this new person, and I became his comrade in that violent gloom as well as his companion, friend, and brother in God. Actually, there was a group of us, and, each month, more young men and adults joined. In this way, we became a solid force against evil. The Sheikh didn’t ask us to change our circumstances right then and there. Instead, he urged us to strengthen our belief and our faith that everything rested in God’s hands, not our own, and that God was the true guide.When the hour of truth arrived and he ordered us to change and to sing the truth, we would be cleansed of the world’s dross and filth, in preparation for sacrifice. Believe me, I didn’t understand this statement at first. What mattered was Sheikh Osama’s protection. You know there are monstrous things in prison – killers, sick men, tyranny, devastating beatings and indescribable torture. I followed him to protect myself from the violent behaviour and ruthless treatment of the others. Later, his statement made a profound impact on me, and his rhetoric became an inexhaustible enchantment.

“I thanked Almighty God on High that He sent him to me. Indeed, picture this: I thanked God for sending me to prison where I would meet him, be blessed by him and become his companion. Do you think I would have changed if this encounter had not occurred and if he had not chosen to defend me? He was beside me in that stinking cell that held ten men who were ready to pounce on me like some easy prey.

“I won’t keep from you the fact that all the courage I vaunted in the quarter, all my phony virility, suddenly abandoned me the moment a man approached me, put a razor blade to my throat, and asked me to hand over all my poor savings. Sheikh Osama saved me then and saved my spirit from damnation.”

He began to repeat the following words of thanks in a peculiar way: “I thank Almighty God on High for that.

“I thank GodWho is capable of everything. “I thank God, the Luminous Guide. “I thank Almighty God . . .The Almighty . . .” While he offered thanks in this way, his head swayed back and forth, and I thought he was raving or insane and would eventually pass out.

He stopped, however, gave me a piercing look, and said with a smile: “Prison put me through immense torture, but I thank Almighty God on High Who sent me that man to rescue me from that darkness into the light of truth and who opened my eyes to the way of guidance. I learned through his grace the wisdom of dhikr and feel that, despite all my suffering, I left prison a pure man – like a newborn emerging from his mother’s

130 BANIPAL 43 – CELEBRATING DENYS JOHNSON-DAVIES

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