Bilal

[NaSra]

<b>Bilal tells of the man who troubled Mecca</b>


That morning Umaya went as usual to sit with the other merchants beside the Kaa’ba.


I always looked forward to the mornings; squatting with my fellow slaves, whispering gossip, as we watched our masters, at their beck and call. But most we could enjoy the shade; and the shade in Mecca is as breath is to lungs.


For nothing grows in Mecca; no tree, no grass, no flower, and the rocky hills that surround the city hold the splitting heat of the midday sun long into the night. By the rigours of nature, Mecca is among the inclement places in the world. Yet, even in those days, people who knew Mecca could never get it out of their minds.


When away, they longed to return. No oasis or temperate country could satisfy them; it was always pack up and go back.


Even the camels in the desert lifted their heads and lengthened their stride when the word ‘Mecca’ was spoken; even I, a slave, auctioned in Mecca, prodded, pinched and put to run in circles to show my stamina, grew to love the place of my torment.


I can tell you that the water in this silver cup, this cool running water of Damascus, is not to be compared to the tangy sulphurous water of ZamZam trickling up in the courtyard of the Kaa’ba- though I drank it only from the cup of my hand.


Why? Why does that brown struck city, in a desolate valley, without a single tree, without bird or butterfly, without one merciful glance from nature, why does it compel the imagination and pursue the mind? You don’t have to look far.


The black brilliance of the Kaa’ba rises up like a jewel of Heaven worn by the earth; it has shade like the shade of a thousand palms; it is the ultimate oasis.


Even in pagan days it was a place of peace. No man might draw a sword or raise his hand to his enemy or bring any feud, was, disorder or brigandage to the neighbourhood of the Kaa’ba.


The first house of worship of the human race, the Kaa’ba, was built by Abraham, the farther of Ismael and Isaac, who prayed to the One God only. But such was the confusion of mankind, that this great house of reverance had become a warehouse for idols of carved wood and polished stone, the gods of Arabia; gods for day and night, gods for sure legs and lame legs, gods for luck and journeys. There were 360 different gods- and all of then for profit. Not the true profit of religion, which is gained in Heaven and is forever, but the profit of the caravan, which is found in the market-place and comes and goes like spit on a hot stone.


Every year, for an agreed month, the tribes of Arabia came to visit their gods in the Kaa’ba. A great market grew up around the occasion and to it came merchants from Syria, sea traders from Yemen, desert carriers from Persia, slavers from everywhere. The gods and gold were equal merchandise.


I tell you all this to put my story in place, literally where I sat in the shade of the Kaa’ba.


‘There goes the man who talks to God.’ It was Abu Jahl’s voice, and his slave squatting beside me was on his feet before the remark was lost in laughter. So he eased himself down again.


‘Why don’t you walk on water, prophet?’ This was Umaya, my master who know answers in Hell.


Then I saw him pass, Muhammad, the son of Abdullah, walking alone as usual, his face towards the mountains where, it was whispered, an angel had talked to him. He disappeared around the side of the Kaa’ba blown on by the gales at his back- or so it seemed to the laughter-makers, our masters.


But Abu Sufyan was not smiling- and in all Mecca the man to watch after your owner was Abu Sufyan. His story and ours are bound together as are the huntsmen and the hunted, the dog and the deer.


Perhaps the one needs the other; perhaps he helped make us who we are.


Suddenly he stood up and the talk stopped.


‘A man with one god is godless’ he said.


As usual, he had put his finger on the pulse, for pagans divide their superstitions among many gods and cannot, in their hearts, understand the pure certainty of One God. But you could see he was worried.


‘The gods will leave us and give their gifts to another city if we do not curb his blasphemy.’


He looked hard at Abu Lahab.


‘You are his uncle, it is the responsibility of his family to discipline him.’


Abu Lahab was flustered. He had been sitting apart from the discussion, hoping to be left out.


‘Discipline him? Muhammad is 40 years old! I know, I know, he is becoming a disgrace…to me, to his own family; to you, his own class. Yesterday he adopted his slave as his son. Madness! He gives away everything he has to whoever asks. Madness! He feeds the riff-raff, the debtors…everyday there are ten of them at his door. They are unlucky if they don’t get a sheep. What can we do? My nephew is mad.’


Abu Lahab turned from one side to the other as if they could help explain what was inexplicable- a prophet in his own country. In his worry he caught Abu Sufyan’s arm.


‘Tell me, Abu Sufyan: a man in his prime, strong, handsome, not a grey hair in his head, married to a rich wife, a man who can afford the best in Mecca…and what does he do? He sits shivering in a cave on the mountain…is that not mad? He has a warm bed at home! And all because of an angel he believes talks to him…that angel is a ringing in his own ears.’


Here Abu Lahab sat down wearily. His friends were now embarrassed. A madness in the family is every mans fear because nothing can be done and no advice is right. You can only hope sanity will come back by remembering it.


‘Yet a year ago, you all knew him and respected him. You would not have laughed at him then. He judged your disputes, and settled your quarrels. You went to him when you needed him, a man with a fair mind.’


Abu Lahab beckoned to his slave. What he had to say was said, for the time being. It is my grief that Abu Lahab at other times said more and turned towards the lime pits, when the rivers and trees of Paradise were within his reach. But only God knows the whereabouts of souls.


Abu Sufyan had made up his mind.


‘What he says of the gods is one thing- serious, I agree. But the gods will look after themselves. What he says to a man is another thing- and that might be dangerous. But we will find out soon. We will bring the slaves and unprotected men who listen to him.’