observant, and I wear short skirts and go about uncovered. We don’t look right together.”
Sheikh Shakir’s apartment is cramped and humble. The house consists of two stories built of red brick in a narrow alley in Dar el Salam. In the two bedrooms and a parlor live Sheikh Shakir, his two wives, and his seven sons and daughters, who are at different stages of their schooling. The sheikh and his student visitors have agreed on a signal by which he can recognize them — three knocks with spaces in between.
This was the knock that Taha el Shazli used, and he heard the voice of the sheikh saying from inside, “Coming!” Then he heard a sound which told him that the women had gone into the farther room and the slow, heavy footsteps of the sheikh and the sound of him clearing his throat were audible. After a short while the sheikh opened the door, saying “In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate” as he did so.
“Taha! Welcome, my boy.”
“Sorry to disturb you but I want to talk to you a little.”
“Come in, please. You didn’t go to the university today?”
Taha sat on the sofa next to the window and recounted what had happened with Busayna. He told everything and described his feelings to the sheikh, who listened carefully, playing with his prayer beads. The talk was interrupted for a few minutes when the sheikh got up to bring the tea tray, after which he continued to listen until Taha had finished talking. He thought for a while, and then said, “My boy, the True Religion does not forbid love so long as it is legitimate and does not lead to disobedience to God’s Law. Indeed, the noblest of God’s creations, the Chosen One — blessings and peace be upon him — loved the Lady Aisha and spoke of this in sound reports whose validity is generally accepted. The difficulty lies in choosing the woman deserving of your emotions. What should the specifications of this woman be? The Prophet — God bless him and give him peace — said, ‘A woman may be taken in marriage for her beauty, her wealth, or her religion. Take you the religious woman, and, God willing, wealth will follow’ (God’s Prophet has spoken truly). A proper Islamic upbringing would have prevented you from falling into a difficulty such as that from which you are now suffering. You and all the children of your generation did not receive an Islamic upbringing because you grew up in the secular state and received a secular education. Thus you grew accustomed to thinking in a way that excludes religion. Now you have returned to Islam with your hearts, but your minds will take a while before they rid themselves of secularism and are purified for Islam. Learn, as I have said to you so many times, how to love in God and hate in God, for otherwise your Islam will never be complete. The distress from which you are now suffering is a natural and inevitable result of your distance from God, even though this be in only one aspect of your life. If you had asked yourself at the beginning of your relationship with this friend of yours how observant she was, if you had made her adherence to Islam a condition for your having a relationship with her, you would not find yourself where you are now.”
The sheikh poured out two glasses of tea and offered one to Taha. Then he placed the pot on the metal tray, whose color had been transformed by age, and said, slowly sipping his tea, “God knows how much I love you, my boy, and I hate you to come to your sheikh in sorrow only for him to give you a lecture instead of consoling you. But, by God, my sincere advice to you is this: forget this young woman, Taha, because she’s gone astray. You are an observant young man, a believer, and a girl who is a Muslim like you would be better for you. Force yourself to forget and seek help in prayer and the recitation of the Qur’an. It will be difficult at the beginning but will get easier for you later, God willing. Then again, have you forgotten your religion, Taha? What’s become of gihad, Taha? What’s become of your duty to Islam and the Muslims? Yesterday the filthy war began, with our rulers allowing themselves to be forced into fighting Muslims and under the command of unbelievers. It is the duty of all young Muslims in Egypt to rise up against this unbelieving government. Are you willing, Taha, to hang back in aiding the Muslims, who are being killed in their thousands every day, and occupy yourself with an erring young woman who has deserted you in favor of abomination? God, Mighty and Glorious, will not ask you on the Day of Resurrection about Busayna, but He will hold you to account for what you did to support the Muslims. What will you say to God on the day of the Great Gathering?”
Taha hung his head and appeared moved. Then he said in grief and shame, “I have promised God more than once that I’d forget her, but unfortunately I start thinking of her again.”
“Satan will not give your soul up easily and you will not achieve true devotion in one go. The gihad of the soul, Taha, is the Greater Gihad, as the Messenger of God — God bless him and give him peace — called it.”
“What should I do, Master?”
“You must pray and recite the Qur’an. Apply yourself constantly to them, my boy, until God brings you relief and promise me, my boy, that you will not see this young woman again, whatever the circumstances.”
Taha looked at the sheikh and said nothing.
“This is an undertaking between you and me, Taha, and I’m confident that you’ll keep it, God willing.”
The sheikh then rose, opened the drawer of the old desk, took out some pictures from foreign newspapers and threw them in Taha’s lap, saying, “Look at these pictures. Examine them well. These are your Muslim brethren in Iraq whose bodies have been torn apart by the Coalition’s bombs. Look at how the bodies have been rent apart, including those of women and children. This is what they do to Muslims and their children, and our traitorous rulers participate with the unbelievers in their crimes.”
Then the sheikh picked out a photo and held it in front of Taha’s eyes and said, “Look at the face of this Iraqi child, ripped open by American bombs. Is not this innocent child as much your responsibility as your sister and your mother? What are you doing to aid her? Is there still a place in your heart for sorrow over your erring friend?”
The photo of the disfigured child was extremely upsetting and Taha said bitterly, “The children of Muslims are slaughtered in this hideous way, while Egyptian television is crawling with scholars from el Azhar affirming that the Egyptian government’s position is sound in Islamic Law and claiming that Islam supports the alliance with America to strike Iraq.”
For the first time the sheikh showed excitement and his voice rose. “Those scholars are hypocrites and evildoers. They are the pet jurists of the sultans and their sin in God’s eyes is great. Islam absolutely forbids us to participate with unbelievers in the killing of Muslims, whatever the reasons. Any schoolchild doing their first class in the Law knows the authorities for this.”
Taha nodded in agreement with the words of the sheikh, who suddenly said, as though he had just thought of something, “Listen. Tomorrow, God willing, our brothers are organizing a big demonstration at the university. I hope you won’t stay away.”
He was silent for a moment, then went on, “I shan’t be able to lead the demonstration myself, but your brother Tahir will be your commander tomorrow, God willing. The assembly point is in front of the auditorium after the noon prayer.”
Taha nodded, then stood up and asked permission to leave, but the sheikh asked him to wait and disappeared inside for a little. He returned smiling and said, handing him a small book, “This is the Islamic Action Charter. I’d like you to read it, then we can discuss it later. This book, Taha, will make you forget, God willing, all the bad thoughts that haunt you.”
The animals were slaughtered on the Friday morning — three huge bullocks that had spent the night next to the elevator in the lobby of the Yacoubian Building. At the call to the dawn prayer, five butchers fell on them, trussed them, and slit their throats; then they spent hours flaying them, cutting them up, and loading the meat into bags, ready for distribution. No sooner had the noon prayer come to an end than the crowds in Suleiman Basha swelled with troops of people making their way to the Azzam stores. They were extremely poor: beggars, privates in the police force, barefoot boys, and women garbed in black carrying or dragging behind them their small children. All came to take their share of the sacrificial meat that Hagg Azzam was giving away to mark the occasion of his victory in the elections. In front of the main entrance to the store stood Fawzi, Hagg Azzam’s eldest son, in a white gallabiya, taking the bags of meat and throwing them to the people, who had formed a surging crowd and were shoving one another to get at the meat. Fights broke out and injuries occurred, and the store’s employees were obliged to make a cordon and beat the surging people back with their shoes to keep them away from the glass display windows before they broke under the weight of their bodies. Inside, Hagg Azzam sat at the front wearing a smart blue suit with a white shirt and a crumpled red tie, his face beaming with joy.
