by Asen Djinah
‘Be a good son. Although you live in town, you still carry our honour,’ Leila reminded him.
‘Shaqiq – brother, we have never been to town. Next time you come, we would like to go with you for a visit,’ Aziza said.
‘Oh yes, we want to see what life in town looks like,’ Jamila added eagerly.
Both Asif and Hayder kept a brave face as they mounted their crouched camels. Jalal Al-Din was sad to see his son leaving and turned away to hide the mist in his eyes. Hisham the leader did not say much. Looking at his adopted brother, he felt his heart tightening. His father Mahafuz had rescued him as a young boy from certain death a long time ago and Asif had returned the kindness a thousand-fold. The food supplies he had provided over the years had kept the tribe from much hardship and malnutrition. Had Mahafuz still been alive, he would have been proud of his adopted son.
‘God Almighty, you are the best of all planners,’ he thought to himself, quoting the same exact words his late father had said when he rescued Asif all those years ago.
Chapter 9
Jalal Al-Din sighed as he dismounted his camel to set up camp for the night. He had been travelling for four days already and he estimated he had another two, at most three days before reaching Kuffrat.
‘Why? Why are women so calculating?’ he spoke loudly while unloading his camel, although he was all alone in the vast expanse of the desert.
Travelling alone in the desert did strange things to the mind. Any worrying thoughts would be distorted and amplified a thousand times without any travel companion to put them in perspective. For the past two days, Jalal Al-Din had been ruminating about how Leila had tricked him.
‘Why didn’t she come to me in the first place, instead of going to her brother Hisham? After all, am I not her husband?’ he asked aloud.
In ordinary circumstances, he would have understood that such a serious matter should be raised with the leader first since it involved everyone in the tribe. However, alone with his own thoughts for so long, he was no longer rational and was persuaded that Leila had been disloyal to him by going behind his back.
A few weeks ago, when Hisham had summoned him along with the elders, Jalal Al-Din had assumed it was a routine meeting.
‘As you are all aware, the feud between us and the Qufreid tribe has been going on for nearly sixty years now. So far we have been lucky that there has been no loss of life during all this time. There has been restraint from the leaderships of both parties. However, the new generation tends to act more on impulse, rather than thinking of the consequence of their actions. It can take just one confrontation for the situation to degenerate beyond containment. I think that it is time to put an end to the bad blood,’ Hisham started off.
‘How is this possible to end the feud, without us losing face?’ one of the elders intervened.
‘Our Prophet had united all the tribes of the land together and following his guidance, there should be no place for feuds among us,’ Hisham continued on, ignoring the interruption.
‘Aren’t you being untrue to the memory of your uncle Mustafa, who lost his life before his time?’ accused another of the elders.
‘We have to look beyond the past towards the future. Let us ask ourselves what our Prophet’s advice would have been?’ Hisham persisted.
It was true that the Prophet would advocate peace every single time under any circumstances. There was silence as everyone thought about what Hisham had said.
‘How can this be achieved without losing face? Mustafa lost his life while they only paid blood money,’ Jalal Al-Din spoke for the first time.
‘It should be them who should be making the first step and not us,’ he added.
‘Leila has informed me that Hayder has taken a liking to a Qufreid girl and has suggested that a marriage between the two tribes would bring about an alliance and put an end to the feud,’ Hisham explained.
Jalal Al-Din looked stunned. So complete was his surprise that his mind went blank and he sat throughout the rest of the meeting without uttering a word.
‘I propose that Jalal Al-Din go and see their leader and ask for the girl’s hand on behalf of Hayder. If they too wish to end the feud, they will consider our overture carefully. We know their leader Abdul-Basir is a wise man,’ Hisham told the council.
Jalal Al-Din still did not say one word when his name came up. He sat there straight-face as he thought of Leila not telling him about Hayder’s infatuation and going behind his back to her brother.
‘I am being made to look like a fool, not knowing what is happening in my own tent,’ he fumed in silence.
After much deliberation, the council of elders finally agreed to make an attempt to end the tribal dispute.
‘We owe it to our Prophet,’ had been the defining argument.
Two days later, a reluctant Jalal Al-Din was on his way to Kuffrat where the Qufreid tribe had set up camp since the start of the drought.
When Jalal Al-Din finally reached the Qufreid camp, he was not in the best of moods. As he arrived at the outermost tents, two boys rushed forward to take charge of his camel and direct him to the Abdul-Basir’s tent. Jalal Al-Din paused at the entrance and extending his hand, he deliberately grabbed the tent pole for everyone to see, indicating that he had come in peace and sought the hospitality of the tribe. Despite this, as he introduced himself he saw his host pull out his dagger. He also noticed how quickly the veiled girl standing in the background moved forward and whispered something in Abdul-Basir’s ear, while putting a restraining hand on his arm. His host’s demeanour changed instantly as he put his dagger away and addressed his guest.
‘Alaikum Salam. Welcome to my tent, Jalal Al-Din of the Juhayah tribe and accept our hospitality. Please have a seat,’ Abdul-Basir said in a polite yet cold voice.
As the visitor took a seat on the rug, Amel judged it was safe to leave the two men alone and went to fetch a bowl of water and a towel.
When Amel and Nabila had first seen the visitor arriving from afar, they had started preparations to receive him. One of the most important facets of a tribe’s honour rested upon its hospitality to visitors. Even during times of scarcity nomads would readily slaughter an animal to welcome a guest, even if they had been depriving themselves. They believed it was worth a thousand blessings to welcome a visitor, as he could be an angel sent in disguise to test them. There was a tale about an old nomad who, on noticing a traveller passing by his tent, invited him to stay and share his meal.
‘Come to my tent and I will offer you meat,’ he said.
The traveller thanked him for his offer, but regretted that unfortunately he was in a hurry to reach his destination.
‘If you don’t accept my hospitality, I shall divorce my wife!’ the old nomad replied, hurt by the refusal.
Despite his haste, the traveller had no option but to accept the invitation for he knew that the old man was bound by his pledge.
Jalal Al-Din washed his hands and face in the bowl and patted himself dry with the cloth. Only when he was finished did the two men look at each other and begin the customary conversation of asking about each other’s family. When Jalal Al-Din informed him that his family was well, Abdul-Basir replied, ‘Praise be to God’.
When in turn he shared the good news about his family, the visitor also replied with the customary ‘Praise be to God.’
‘May God grant them good health and long life,’ Jalal Al-Din added.
‘Amen,’ Abdul-Basir replied.
The tension in the tent eased a little as the two men talked and moved on to the formal sharing of the latest news. Amel and Nabila brought in tea and cakes. When Amel poured the tea into the cups, Jalal Al-Din could not help noticing how she imperceptibly guided Abdul-Basir’s hand towards the handle of the cup.
‘It seems that Abdul-Basir has trouble with his eyesight.’ Jalal Al-Din thought, ‘That could explain why he drew out his dagger despite my peaceful intentions.’
The two enemies sipped their tea and nibbled
at the cakes as they talked about the drought and the resulting hardship they had to endure.
‘Let us pray that the drought does not last very long,’ Abdul-Basir said as they discussed the hike in the price of supplies and how bleak the future looked.
To an outsider they looked like two old friends having a chat, but Amel could feel the underlying tension despite their polite and calm demeanours. After finishing his second cup of tea, Jalal Al-Din cleared his throat to indicate that he was ready to talk business. To drink only one cup of tea would be an insult to the host, for it would mean that the tea was not good. To drink more than two cups would show greediness.
‘In the old days, there was much lawlessness in the land. There were frequent attacks by raiders who would steal the livestock of the tribe. Many lives were lost during such attacks. Those were difficult times,’ Jalal Al-Din started off.
‘Indeed, those were hard times. Luckily, those days are behind us now,’ answered Abdul-Basir, wondering what the real purpose of the visit was.
‘We should be grateful that our Holy Prophet has united us in one ummah – community and put an end to the violence,’ Jalal Al-Din said.
‘Peace be upon him,’ Abdul-Basir replied.
‘Our Prophet has done much good for this world and taught us how to live honourably and in peace,’ he added.
Jalal Al-Din had left his tribe feeling angry at his wife’s betrayal and at Hisham for sending him on this pointless mission. However, since he had been talking with Abdul-Basir, his negative stance had gradually subsided. Despite the tension, he felt oddly at ease in the company of Abdul-Basir after the six long days of loneliness in the desert. He really liked his host and felt that under different circumstances they could have been friends. He could now clearly understand Leila’s and Hisham’s point of view. He finally accepted that it was not a bad idea after all to try and end the feud between the two tribes.
‘Our Holy Prophet had always proclaimed his preference for peace,’ he replied.
Amel came to clear the cups away and Jalal Al-Din followed her with his eyes as she retreated behind the partition. His attention had been drawn to her earlier, from the moment she had restrained her father. She looked slender under her clothes and moved gracefully. He liked the way she had subtly interfered to diffuse the situation upon his arrival and the gentle way she had placed the cup of tea in her father’s hand.
‘She must be the girl that Hayder fancies,’ Jalal Al-Din guessed, ‘If she has inherited her father’s fine features, she must be very pretty.’
‘I would not mind having her as my daughter-in-law,’ he concluded and was taken aback by his own thoughts.
‘I am becoming a romantic like Leila,’ he chuckled inwardly.
‘It must be said it is a pity that there has been a dispute between our tribes for so long,’ Jalal Al-Din said aloud, looking directly into his host’s eyes.
‘I think that it is time for us to forget the past and make peace,’ he added.
Finally, Abdul-Basir understood the purpose of his visit. He too was a peaceful man and deplored the state of affairs between the two tribes. It was fortunate that so far there had been no further loss of lives between the two tribes. He remained silent for a long time as he tried to work out a careful reply that would not cause offence to his guest.
‘The Holy Prophet would have never disrespected this bold step towards reconciliation,’ he told himself as he thought of an appropriate response.
When Abdul-Basir finally spoke, his words were measured, for he realised that it must not have been easy for the Juhayah tribe to send one of their men to seek peace at the risk of losing face.
‘My late father Hamza negotiated and paid blood money for the regrettable tragedy that happened and had hoped that it was enough to settle the grievance caused. Unfortunately, men from both tribes did not feel that way and animosity has only increased over the years, from one generation to the next.’
‘Your men blamed us for taking the life of one of their kin even though it was purely accidental. My men blamed yours for putting us through much hardship by losing a significant part of our livestock. They believed that we have lost not one, but many lives through malnutrition and related diseases. How can we remove the hurt and anger from the hearts of both our men?’ Abdul-Basir continued.
Jalal Al-Din was pleased that his host had asked the question, for it gave him an opening to put forward his proposal. He knew the girls were probably listening to the conversation on the other side of the partition.
‘I have a son Hayder, who has left the tribe and lives here in Kuffrat. Though he is only twenty-two years old, he is already a successful trader. He is a nice and upright young man and we are all very proud of him. I understand that you have a daughter who is of age and I would like to respectfully ask her hand in marriage on behalf of my son. It will be a great honour to my family and me,’ he blurted out.
Behind the partition, Amel gasped in surprise at the unexpected turn of the conversation. She did not know what to think. Nabila poked her in the ribs and giggled softly. Abdul-Basir was also surprised. It was the last thing he expected to hear. He knew that Amel would be listening behind the screen and wondered what she was thinking.
‘A marriage between our tribes, between the nephew of our leader and the daughter of the leader of the Qufreid tribe, would forge a long-lasting alliance and end the ill-feelings between our men. A tree begins with a seed,’ Jalal Al-Din elaborated hurriedly, feeling uneasy at his host’s long silence.
‘Indeed, a tree begins with a seed. But I am no longer the leader of the tribe. My younger brother, Basim, is the current leader. Any decision will eventually rest with him and the council of elders. As for my daughter, I am honoured that you are considering her as a potential wife for your son. However, I am not the type of father who will force his daughter into marriage. The decision to proceed will rest with her and her alone. But I completely share your view about ending the feud and forging an alliance. With that in mind I will speak favourably on behalf of your proposition at the council,’ Abdul-Basir said deliberately in a loud voice for Amel to hear.
Jalal Al-Din was utterly relieved. He had feared his proposal might be laughed at and rejected outright. His entire tribe would have lost face. He was satisfied with the reply. He had not realised that Abdul-Basir was no longer leader of the tribe. Despite this, Abdul-Basir’s support towards his overture would carry much weight in the council of elders.
‘I am glad that we both share the same point of view. May God Almighty guide the others towards the same disposition’ Jalal Al-Din replied.
‘My brother Basim will be back before nightfall and we will take your proposal to the council. I will speak to my daughter also. It will be my pleasure if you accept our hospitality and stay until we reach a decision. I will arrange for a guest tent to be set up next to mine,’ Abdul-Basir told his guest.
Chapter 10
Oblivious of the undertaking set in motion by his parents, Hayder had departed on a three-month voyage. He had been planning this trip for well over a year and had initially kept it quiet from Asif. Only after gathering all the information and making the necessary arrangements, did he finally disclose his plan to his uncle.
‘Not only will we be increasing our profit substantially, we will also gain an edge over our competitors,’ he said to convince Asif.
After listening to the details of the scheme and asking numerous questions, Asif had finally relented and given his blessing.
‘Yes, I agree that the benefits are quite significant,’ Asif agreed, ‘Despite my concerns about the risks of this long voyage, I realise that you have put a lot of effort and planning in this venture. If I were to say no, you would probably spend the rest of your life wondering about it. You are young and should follow your dream. I give you my blessing and hope that you succeed in your endeavour.’
The day finally came when Hayder set off on the trip of a lifetime. Had he delayed his departure by one
day, he would have met his father and learned of his visit to the Qufreid tribe, but fate had decided otherwise.
Traditionally, Asif and Hayder purchased their merchandise from Gerrha and then brought it to Kuffrat by caravan on a two-week journey from the eastern port. The goods were originally transported along the vast network of trade routes known as the Spice Route. They would be dropped at trading posts along the way, then sold and picked up by other convoys. At each trading post, the local tax imposed by the ruling warlord, the mark-up of the middleman plus the cost of warehousing would increase the price significantly. By the time the goods reached Gerrha, Asif and Hayder – as well as the other merchants – would pay an exorbitant rate. Furthermore some of the goods, which had been on the road for many months, sometimes almost a year if they were coming from China, would be in poor condition by the time they reached Gerrha.
‘Trading by sea routes will not only cut off many of the middlemen thereby reducing the cost, but will also bring the goods quicker and in better condition,’ Hayder had explained to Asif.
For over a year, Hayder had been planning and studying the maps he had acquired at great cost. Every time he travelled to the port of Gerrha, he took a room at the inn, facing the harbour. He struck up conversations with as many sailors as possible to gather information about the various ports along the coast, all the way up to the Port of Bengal, known as the gateway to China. Trading by sea was not uncommon and like the land routes, the goods would be dropped at a port by one ship and picked up by another vessel for the next port. However, Hayder’s plan was to sail all the way to the Port of Bengal and purchase his merchandise directly from the suppliers, avoiding the harbour taxes for landed goods as well as cutting out the middlemen at each port.
