The Rule and the Proof

The lights blind my eyes; the expanse is too vast. This world is a sea and I am woozy. The smells crowd my nose and the sounds jumble together. I hear the squeaking wheels of carts and suitcases on the shiny tiles. I see mouths opening and closing, opening and closing, as if there were some sense to it. Where did all this world come from? Why is the air filled with noise, why do voices hover over the place like a hive of bees? Where is the honey? Where is the meaning?

He held onto my wrist, pulling me to the right, the left. Right, left. He held me back from this and pushed me away from that. His arms were wrapped around my body as if he were afraid I’d be crushed underfoot. Come this way. Watch out for the wet floor. Why didn’t you latch your suitcase properly? He grumbled, secured it, then kept walking, holding me by my wrist. Hey! Hey! Sir, pay attention. Don’t you see her passing by? We move. He looks at his watch. We’ll be right on time. A voice echoes and the air is filled with unintelligible sounds. He says, This is our flight. His eyes shine. Let’s hurry! I want to say to him, Slow down, slow down, but I can’t. I just got out of the coffin—the light hurts my eyes and the sounds frighten me. I need to get used to the expanse and to being in the world.

Are you excited? He asked me that while we stood in the passport line, while we made our way slowly through the departure hall, while we were about to get on the plane. Why did he ask me so many times? What did I answer? Or did I not answer at all and that was why the poor man kept asking? Does he see the fear of the unknown in my eyes and is waiting for a glimmer of happiness or delight? I nodded, swallowed, and held on to his arm, as if he were the only stable thing in a world rocking mercilessly.

How could I tell him it was too much for me? I didn’t. Because the moment I reached my seat on the plane I saw the small television screen affixed to the seat in front of me, and was unable to believe it had followed me here. I smiled at it and it smiled back, saying, It’s true, I won’t leave you. I felt reassured and my body relaxed into the seat. Faris laughed. Why did he laugh?

“You’re just like a child.”

“What do you mean?”

“You always have this expression on your face . . .”

He opened his eyes wide, raised his eyebrows, and pursed his lips. Do I really look like that? Apparently I gave him the same look because he shook his head, laughing, with a touch of disbelief. Then he reached behind my back, pulled out the seat belt, and secured it around my waist.

He behaved with a kind of superiority while fastening my seat belt and closing my handbag. As if I were a five-year-old girl. Was I, in fact, a five-year-old girl?

“I take it you haven’t traveled much.”

“Just when I was young.”

“Where?”

“To Egypt. London. Lebanon.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nothing happened.” After a pause, I added dully, “My parents died and things changed.”

“How?”

“Saqr became my guardian and he, well . . . He has a different point of view on these things.”

“Doesn’t Saqr ever travel?”

“Of course. For the hajj and umrah.” I swallowed and added, “Saqr says tourism is forbidden, citing the hadith that says there is no ‘siyaha’ in Islam.”

“I think he misunderstood.”

“On the contrary. He never misunderstands. It’s a mursal hadith, he checked. And Saqr knows that it’s mursal, that Sheikh al-Albani classified it as weak. He also knows that were it true it would have another meaning, a different meaning, and that the word ‘siyaha’ can’t logically mean ‘tourism,’ because this is a new meaning of an old word. ‘Siyaha’ used to mean to enter monastic life, to shun earthly work and live on charity. But that doesn’t matter; what matters is that he never misunderstands anything. He understood it very well, and memorized all of its various narrations and sources, but he interpreted it the way he likes, the way that keeps him from spending his money. That’s all.”

He seemed surprised by my words, hesitant, and commented, “It seems there are some misunderstandings between you two.”

“Saqr and I? On the contrary, we understand each other very well. We can read each other’s innermost thoughts. In fact, I don’t think there is anyone who knows Saqr like I do, not even his wife. He and I are something special.”

“I’m happy to know that.”

Faris smiled anxiously. I didn’t smile. Once the desert of silence had spread between us, vast and desolate, he asked me again: “Are you excited?”