by Ali al-Muqri
‘What do we gain from woman when we call on her to study at primary school, secondary school, or university? Isn’t it enough for her to study until she turns nine? This is the age at which it is permitted for a girl to marry, as in the example set by God’s Messenger, Muhammad, peace be upon him, who married Aisha when she was nine years old. To educate her after this age would have meant her leaving the house and coming into contact with other men. This is against God’s teachings, which instruct women to remain at home. The schoolgirl becomes a woman when she turns nine. Let Aisha, Mother of the faithful, may God be pleased with her, be an example for all God-fearing women. Her marriage to the Prophet at this age was an obligatory practice that we must follow. As the popular expression goes’ [he lowers his voice and chuckles] “Marry a girl of eight, and I’ll give you a guarantee.” So it is not acceptable, not acceptable’ [now raising his voice] ‘for us to remain silent while we watch girls mix with boys at the colleges, or female teachers teach boys at primary school with the excuse that they’re just children. What if a boy grows up and remembers his female teacher?’ [He pauses for a moment]. ‘Sadly, and I say sadly’ [lowering his voice] ‘yes, I say sadly’ [raising his voice again] ‘even those universities and colleges that call themselves Islamic have opened up departments for female students. In the name of Islam they go against Islam. Is it right that we should hear the voice of a woman, even if she is reading from the Quran? We know that a woman’s voice is private, so then how has it come to this? We’ve opened colleges to teach Quran so that women’s voices can be heard by men. The hurma’s voice is haram! It is the voice of temptation, the voice of the devil, tempting us away from God’s word. Instead of listening to God’s word and contemplating its meaning, we listen to their sweet voices and are bewitched by their feminine beauty. There is no God but God. May God put an end to such an abomination!’
Some of the male students were clearly moved by the sheikh’s impassioned delivery – they could be heard on the recording repeating ‘Amen, Amen’ after his prayer.
A Cultural Videocassette (Personal)
Lula insisted I come with her to the home of one of her workmates. When I realised they were going to watch a cultural film, or a sex film, I got up to leave. They clung to me, begging me to stay. I put my hands over my eyes and tried to move away from the television.
Everyone had started calling me ‘Sheikha,’ so how could I be party to such things, now that I’d taken this new path in life so at odds with the way Lula lived hers?
Lula tried to prise my hands away from my eyes. I was sure we were going to end up fighting, but she switched tactics. Soothingly, she said: ‘Listen. Please, just listen. I only want you to know what’s in the film. You don’t need to watch the whole thing. This is a different film. It’s different. True, it’s a film, but the people in it aren’t strangers. You know the people in it. It’s local sex.’
‘And what difference does it make to me if it’s local or foreign?’ I said as I tried to pull away towards the door.
‘Wait. What’s wrong with you? Just take a quick look then decide for yourself. The film’s not just local, the people in it look like people you know. Please, just take a look.’
‘There, I’m looking – see?’ I snapped, as I moved my hands away and opened my eyes. I’d only intended to humour Lula so she’d let me go, but nothing could have prepared me for the scene my eyes collided with. The face of the woman who moved up and down on the man was familiar. In fact, I knew it well, very well. The camera moved down from her face to her breasts and belly, focusing on her naked torso. For a moment, the sheer shock of it caused me to forget her name, or the place it occupied in my memory shrank in embarrassment. It was Nura. The woman didn’t just resemble her, it really was her. I opened my eyes wider, trying to discover who was beneath her. It looked like ‘Abd al-Raqeeb, but I couldn’t be certain. The cameraman was focussing more on Nura’s body than on the man. Lula explained that it was ‘Abd al-Raqeeb and Nura, and that they were on the roof of our house, outside their bedroom. She pointed out the evidence, such as the bed and the background – the door to their bedroom and the electric light, until I too became convinced it was them.
‘What are we going to do?’
I didn’t have an answer to Lula’s question. All we could do was agree not to tell anyone and talk to Nura.
When Nura was shown the videotape, a look of bewilderment and then terror came over her face. She was speechless. It was as though she were watching a life she had lived without knowing it. Her expression now was very different to how it was in the film, as she moaned and panted, ecstatically: ‘Ah, ah, ah . . .’
We spent the following two days in a state of utter confusion, as if under a spell. It was only broken by ‘Abd al-Raqeeb hammering on the front door, so unlike the gentle knocking we were used to hearing whenever he returned from the mosque, where he prayed each of the five daily prayers.
That whoever was at the door had hammered instead of knocking meant it could only be Raqeeb.
Lula got up to let him in. As she left the bedroom Nura and I locked the door behind her.
‘Where is she? Where is that daughter of a whore? Where is she? I knew that girl was nothing but a whore.’
Nura and I huddled behind the bedroom door trying to catch what he was saying. We pressed our hands against the lock as though to reinforce it.
‘Calm down, son. What’s wrong with you? What is it?’ said Mother.
‘Pray to the Prophet! What’s wrong with you? You’re a God-fearing man. Who filmed you like that?’
‘She doesn’t know. I swear to you on my life, she had nothing to do with it!’ said Lula, realising what was at the heart of his anger.
‘What do you mean, who filmed us? The whore was filmed with one of her lovers. She’s an adulteress. Everyone’s seen it.’
‘‘Abd al-Raqeeb, what are you saying? Calm down. I’m sure it’s you that’s with her. What’s important right now is for us to find out who filmed you.’
We could hear Father’s voice somewhere in the background as he tried to find out what on earth was going on. Mother, on the other hand, was being rudely brought up to speed on everything we’d managed to keep from her.
Earlier, the three of us had concluded that one of the neighbours must have filmed them. It had probably happened on one of those sweltering summer nights when, unable to bear the heat inside their room, ‘Abd al-Raqeeb and Lula slept on the roof. Our suspicions fell on the two houses that overlooked ours. Al-Jadha’s sons were the most likely culprits since they were notorious for harassing the neighbourhood girls. But ‘Abd al-Raqeeb refused to accept our theory, and only Father could convince him not to go through with his idea of killing Nura: ‘Divorce her, don’t kill her.’
‘Abd al-Raqeeb let her go back to her parent’s house, on the understanding that he would send her the divorce papers later.
‘As soon as he recognised Nura he was blinded,’ said Lula. ‘If only he’d watched more than the first few seconds of the film, he would have seen that the man with Nura was him.’ She could find no other reason to explain ‘Abd al-Raqeeb’s behaviour. She continued to elaborate on her theory, telling us she thought the video had been cunningly shot and edited, since it wasn’t easy to make out ‘Abd al-Raqeeb, while there was no mistaking Nura.
Nura’s lusty panting became the talk of the neighbourhood, perhaps even the whole city, whether people had seen the video or not. Most of the people we knew directed their questions at our relatives, trying to find out whether the naked woman in the film really was Nura. A few satisfied themselves by simply staring us in the face. I found them more disconcerting than those who asked their questions out loud. Their silent stares seemed to hold more judgements and foregone conclusions than questions.
After Father sent Nura home to her family, we spent the rest of the night trying to calm down ‘Abd al-Raqeeb.
The following morning we were awoken by a loud knocking on the front door. W
e looked out of the window to see armed men leading Nura out of her house and into a military vehicle. They sat ‘Abd al-Raqeeb next to her, having led him out in his pyjamas. We had no idea where they were taking them.
I’m going to listen to Om Kalthoum now.
Even if hearts were made of iron
Still none could bear what mine has suffered.
No one can tell you about life’s hardships
Like someone who has lost their loved ones.
Those who are dazzled by the riches of this world
Should know that I wore its finery until it fell to rags.
Three months and two days later ‘Abd al-Raqeeb was released from prison. Nura spent just ten days in the women’s prison and then she moved back to her parent’s house, where she lived alone. Her parents had gone to live in Michigan with their son who’d married there and was now an American citizen, and had left her the keys to the family home. She refused to set foot inside our house again unless it was to collect the divorce papers from ‘Abd al-Raqeeb. For a few weeks Lula slept over at Nura’s to keep her company.
None of us knew exactly why ‘Abd al-Raqeeb refused to divorce Nura after his release. The night he discovered the tape, he hadn’t wanted to divorce her, or get her out of his life – he’d wanted to separate her from her life.
‘You only admitted it was you in the film with Nura and not some other man when it was too late, and even then you didn’t seem all that convinced. How can you expect her to stay married to you?’ Lula said, trying everything she could to convince him to give Nura a divorce. She told ‘Abd al-Raqeeb what she and Nura had done to save him from the torture of the investigators at the Criminal Investigation and Political Security Departments, so that he’d be released quickly and without having to face trial. She believed he ought to follow her advice in exchange for everything she’d done for him: ‘They wanted to hand your case to the Deputy General, and charge you with the production and distribution of pornographic material. You just don’t know. I couldn’t have got you out of prison without Nura’s help, and she only did it on the condition you’d divorce her the moment you were released. You’d be better off if you just divorced her now.’
‘Abd al-Raqeeb became depressed and taciturn. He refused to go and ask about the job he’d been absent from the whole time he was in prison. He would emerge from his room on the roof when we called him to dinner, and then quickly disappear back inside again. Lula kept bursting into his room and demanding he give Nura what she wanted. One evening we had a surprise visit from Nura, accompanied by Lula. When we saw her go straight up to the roof, we thought the river had returned to its course and that husband and wife had made up. Mother and Father were overjoyed, and perhaps even I was too. But Lula didn’t let us get too carried away. In a whisper, she invited us to come and stand behind the door to ‘Abd al-Raqeeb’s room, so that we could hear what was being said.
‘Look, you’ve got two choices, either you divorce me, or I divorce you.’ Nura spoke in a clear voice and we were struck by how calmly she delivered her ultimatum. How could she divorce him? It was clear Lula didn’t share our astonishment, and her knowing smile also suggested she was in on some kind of trick.
‘I’m giving you twenty-four hours. I’ll be here the same time tomorrow and you’d better be ready with an answer.’
Father tried to placate Nura and get her to explain exactly what she’d meant, but she refused outright his invitation to stay and have dinner with us. When Mother suggested Lula go back home with her so she wouldn’t be alone, Nura just nodded and left without waiting for Lula.
From its gardens I gathered roses and thorns
And from its cup I tasted honey and resin.
We spent the following day on tenterhooks as we waited for Nura. Mother and Father both tried to make light of her threat. Father kept saying ‘A woman has never divorced her husband,’ as though to reconfirm his convictions, which Nura had clearly shaken. When she arrived at the house, exactly on time, Father was anxious to know what had been decided. He called up to ‘Abd al-Raqeeb after Nura said she wanted to end the matter in front of the family, but ‘Abd al-Raqeeb wouldn’t answer, and just stayed in his room.
‘Well, what have you decided? Come on. Come and divorce me,’ Nura said after knocking on his door while we stood next to her on the roof. ‘Come and divorce me,’ she said again, louder this time. ‘Abd al-Raqeeb seemed completely indifferent, his eyes fixed on the pages of a book. ‘Come and divorce me!’ She said so loudly I thought the neighbours must have heard. Nura didn’t wait long. ‘Abd al-Raqeeb’s apparent nonchalance, the way he acted as though he hadn’t even noticed her – or in fact any of us – had made her furious. She shook her head twice, like someone about to make a pledge or preparing to swear an oath on something.
From its gardens I gathered roses and thorns
And from its cup I tasted honey and resin.
But no wiser judgment than God’s have I witnessed
And no door other than His have I sought.
She reached into her handbag and pulled something out. ‘These are your divorce papers,’ she said loudly. Then she said ‘I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you,’ and threw the papers at him as she left the room.
*
After asking Lula a million questions Father was finally convinced there was no going back; his son was now divorced. She assured him that the court’s ruling – exceptional since it had been initiated by the wife – was legally sound, removing any last doubts. ‘She divorced him in exchange for waiving his final payment towards the dowery. He has the right to demand additional financial compensation and appeal on this basis, but there’s no going back on the divorce. That Nura, she’s discovered she has abilities like no other woman.’
‘Even you?’ Father asked her. She giggled, as though he hadn’t asked her a question but tickled her. When I was alone with Lula, I asked her about these abilities our brother’s ex-wife was blessed with. ‘What other abilities could there be?’ she said, pressing her hand between her thighs. I couldn’t believe Nura would have anything to do with this sort of thing, and so I kept questioning Lula until she told me the details of what happened to Nura while she was in prison, and how her abilities had influenced the outcome. She seemed irritated as she spoke, perhaps because the part these abilities had played had not been recognised: ‘If it wasn’t for Nura, if it wasn’t for these abilities, then your dear brother would still be languishing in prison, with or without a trial.’
__________
1
Hadith transmitted by Abu Dawud, trans. Sh. M. Ashraf.
2
Quran, Surah an-Nisa verse 34, trans. Abdullah Yusuf Ali.
Exact meanings and interpretations of this verse are highly contested, with debate centred on whether or not physical violence is being referred to.
3
Hadith transmitted by al-Bukhari, trans. Muhammad Muhsin Khan.
4
Hadith transmitted by al-Tabarani in al-Mu’ajam al-Kabir, vol. 9, p.38.
5
Quran, Surah al-Baqarah verse 223, trans. Abdullah Yusuf Ali.
6
Quran, Surah an-Nisa, verse 34, trans. Abdullah Yusuf Ali.
7
Quran, Surah al-Baqara, verse 228, trans. Abdullah Yusuf Ali.
8
Hadith transmitted by Abu Dawood, trans. Madelain Farah in Al-Ghazali: Marriage Sexuality in Islam
9
This is in fact not a hadith but a quote from Fiqh al-Sunna, a famous book on Islamic law by the Egyptian religious scholar Sheikh El-Sayyid Sabiq el-Tihami (1915-2000).
Side B of the song
I’m playing the song again, and this time I’m really focusing on the lyrics as I try to work out exactly why our neighbour gave me the tape.
From its gardens I gathered roses and thorns
And from its cup I tasted honey and resin.
But no wiser judgment than God’s have I witnessed
And no
door other than His have I sought.
‘Resin’ is a strange word. What could she mean? She gathered flowers and thorns . . . tasted honey, which is sweet. So I guess, by resin, she means bitter?
Nothing in life is worthier than kindness
Its blessings outlive the giver.
The Prophet of kindness showed the way
He led by example, guiding the people.
What is she saying? The kindness shown by the Prophet is the best and most enduring; it’s the path he guided people along. These are beautiful words, words in praise of the Prophet. They don’t conflict with Islam. Why haven’t I listened to this tape before? I thought it was a love song. All Om Kalthoum’s songs are about love, aren’t they? At least that’s what they say, and what I thought . . . Seems I was wrong.
Nothing in life is worthier than kindness
Its blessings outlive the giver.
The Prophet of kindness showed the way
He led by example, guiding the people.
His message was a path to the light
His horses rode forth in the cause of right.
He taught us how to gain glory
So that we took command of the land by force.
Demands are not met by wishing
The world can only be won through struggle.
So she’s singing about the Prophet, the one who showed us the True Path, in the cause of which he sent his horses off to jihad. It was Muhammad, peace be upon him, who taught us to gain glory, even if this meant the Muslims had to take the land by force. He taught us to take power by force. We seize it. We take it by force. We fight the idolatrous infidels. It’s no good just wishing. Our demands won’t be met simply by wishing, but through determination, force, and conquest. Oh, how beautiful this poetry is! The Prophet teaches us to be determined and steadfast.
His message was a path to the light
His horses rode forth in the cause of right.
