The Fall of the Imam (10 page)

I had witnessed a similar scene before when I finished my schooling in the children’s home. In the place occupied now by the wife of the Imam was a man. I can barely remember him. He had a big head which was completely bald, but his chest was covered in hair. At that time the new wife was taller, and her hair, cut very short, remained completely exposed for everyone to see. The women of the charitable associations all looked like one another. They had square fleshy bodies and small heads around which their hair was wound closely and attached by rows of hairpins. Their feet were small and plump and their legs short, so that seated on their chairs their feet did not reach the ground but remained dangling in the air, swinging slightly to and fro. When they walked their pointed high heels resounded with a metallic noise on the floor.

When my turn came to be awarded the certificate I walked up to the platform. A smooth hand moved out towards me, glittering with a galaxy of stars. The square bodies of the other women stood up on either side, balancing themselves on their high pointed heels, their plump white hands clasped together over their bosoms. With every certificate or prize awarded their hands would detach themselves slowly and the sound of applause would roll out like the halting hoarse breath of some mammoth creature choking to death. As I took the certificate in my hands I felt an electric current pass from the tips of her fingers up my arm and into my body. My heart leapt against my ribs, and I threw myself forwards with great enthusiasm, waving the flag in the air high over my head, shouting at the top of my voice, Allah is great! Long live my country and its Leader the Imam. My sister sacrificed her life for one man, but I shall live for the people of my land. Either complete independence for our country or death in the struggle for our land!’

During the day I moved from one wounded man to the other, carrying a pot for urine and another for stools. At night I kept wide awake, straining my ears to catch a moan. I could see his face as he turned it towards me in the dim light. It was thin and pale and wan. Over his chest there was a deep wound, and from his eyes looked out a tender yearning. In the dark of night I went to him and said, ‘Fadl Allah was at the warfront, did you see him there? Is he still alive?’

‘Who is Fadl Allah?’ he asked. ‘Is he your husband?’

‘He is my milk brother, and he was with me in the orphanage,’ I said. Then I fell silent.

‘Why are you silent?’ he said.

‘What shall I say?’

‘Tell me about yourself,’ he said.

‘But what can I tell you?’

‘Tell me everything,’ he said.

But I did not know what to say. My life seemed full of secrets, and yet when I started to talk it looked empty, as though there was nothing in it to talk about. He surrounded me with his arms like a mother and whispered to me, ‘Go to sleep,’ and as I slept all my fears slipped away from me.

I began to talk about myself, and each time I recounted something my tongue became freer and freer and my heart grew lighter and lighter. My body seemed to be flying like a body without weight. As I climbed higher and higher up the hill a gasp escaped my lips. I had always dreamt of going up to the top of the hill. For twenty long years, ever since I had been born, I had continued to see the hill between the river and the sea, there where my mother stood waiting for me. I could never forget the smell of the air, nor of the damp earth under my palms, nor could I forget the tree and the rock and the slope of the hill rising up. Here was my land, my country. Its smells were the smells of my life, strong and penetrating. I opened my arms, filled my lungs with a deep breath of air, like the first breath of life at the moment of birth, like the last breath of life at the moment of death. And for the first time since I was born I took in everything in one deep breath, the smell of the sea, of salt water, of iodine, of seaweed and molluscs and fresh fish. I abandoned myself to the sea air, let it seep into me, fill me up, drown me in its softness. Its white waves rose up in the night, reaching to the sky, enfolding me like the arms of God. And he was by my side, holding me in his arms and saying, ‘Do you like fish grilled on charcoal?’

‘I love it.’

‘Do you prefer the head of the fish or its tail?’

‘I like both of them.’

His laughter rang out, filling the universe like the laughter of children, like an oyster shell opening its lips to desire. The air of the sea filled me with a lust for life, with a deep hunger, hungry for everything. All my senses were suddenly awakened like waves in wonderful turmoil. The stars glittering over the sea were like lighted pearls. The rustle of leaves, the sound of the waves, the whisper of the wind, joined in a single call, going deep. My black eyes opened wide in abandonment to the ecstasy of love, to the moment when everything else is excluded. Then, when it was over, I closed my eyes and slept on his chest like a child being rocked slowly, and his voice, wafting to me from a distance, whispered, ‘I love you.’

I lived in the ecstasy of love with closed eyes, unable to see him. I felt my heart grow within me, big like the disc of the sun. My body was a mollusc opening its lips with desire, the sea air playing with my senses, his voice echoing like a soft whisper in my ears. It came to me from a distance, like the gentle voice of a mother calling to me. The stars were like diamonds in the night. But I still walked in line with the other nurses, bearing my title of Perfect Servant. When victory was celebrated I still shouted in unison with them, ‘Glory to God, to our country, and to our one and only Imam.’ Carried away by love and a burning enthusiasm I forgot that my sisters had been sacrificed on the altar of love and that my brother had gone to the front never to return. I said to myself, love is life, not death, and to defend my country is a part of love.

At the warfront I advanced in the front lines carrying my gun on my shoulder, aiming carefully at the enemy, ready to die at any moment. But at night my companions and I ran as fast as we could, and once we started to run we never stopped. I ran on and on and then jumped into a trench to hide. Then I started to run again until I reached a trench to hide. Then I started to run again until I reached a trench once more. Then, rising out of the depths of the earth, I continued to run on and on. In the dark I glimpsed the face of the enemy. There could be no mistake at all. I held my gun against my shoulder, took careful aim at a spot midway between his eyes, and pulled the trigger. His face fell off his body and landed on the ground, and after that I could hear them chasing me, for their shoes made a clinking sound. I thought they were the enemy so I continued to run. But there, where the hill slopes down between the river and the sea, I came to a halt. Here was a place where I felt I could be safe. I knew the ground, knew the odour of the trees, and the water flowing down. I walked slowly, and as I took deep breaths of the air I could hear their footsteps treading on the ground. I said to myself, they are my friends, they are the soldiers of my country led by the Chief of Security, and he brings with him the decoration of merit bestowed upon me for bravery by the Imam. When they struck me in the back with something, I turned around to face them, overcome with surprise. ‘Why do you aim your bullets at me? Did I not kill our country’s enemy?’

They said, ‘You killed our country’s friend.’

‘But until yesterday he was an enemy,’ I said.

‘That was yesterday. Today it’s not the same,’ they said.

Her eyes were big and black, big and black enough to capture all the wonder in the world. They looked around her in the night, watched a single star in the infinite sky hurtling down at the speed of light with a sound like thunder. It dropped to the surface of the earth and exploded like a huge ball of fire, spreading out into a sea of flames before her eyes. Now she could not tell day from night, for the fire had gone out and there were only clouds of black smoke with the sharp smell of dust creeping up her nose. Under the palm of her right hand was her gun, and with her left hand she clasped his fingers tight. She heard his voice say quietly, ‘You fired your gun at him and he has fallen to the ground. Look.’

She lifted her head over the top of the trench and looked around but could see nothing. The clouds of smoke were as dense as night, and there was not a single light anywhere. She could not even see his face. She said, ‘I cannot see,’ and he said, ‘Neither can I.’ So she stared into the darkness for some time until she glimpsed him in the trench standing by her side. He still held his finger on the trigger of his gun, and he still held its muzzle pointing to the sky.

He said, ‘One of them has fallen, but there are others still alive.’ In the darkness she saw his arm stretch out to her with a piece of folded paper in his hand. ‘If I die, take this letter to my mother.’

She whispered, ‘Who is your mother?’

And he said, ‘My mother lives close to the orphanage in the House of Joy.’

She realized at once that it was Fadl Allah speaking to her, that he was still alive, that he walked on the earth, his back straight as a spear, his head raised proudly to the sky. His skin was brown like river silt, his features pale and fine, and his eyes looked straight into other eyes, their gaze unwavering, not slipping to one side or dropping to the ground. They shone in wonder, like a child seeing the world for the first time, and yet their steadiness was that of a man not to be taken by surprise.

She said, ‘I am Bint Allah. Can you see me in the dark?’ And now it dawned on him that all the time he had known that it was her, her face, her eyes, the way she walked, the fragrance of her hair.

He said, ‘And Nemat Allah?’

‘Nemat Allah died of love.’

‘And you?’

‘Love for me is life. I do not want to die.’

She took him in her arms and held him tight. ‘What have you written in your letter?’

‘I have written to say that you should not be sad for me, my mother. I have not seen you since I was born, and I have not been to visit you in the House of Joy. But you should not be sad, my mother. Dying for my country means that I have lived for you. So forgive me for this absence which will last for ever.’

She closed her eyes and said, ‘I see you as though it was only yesterday when you left. I see you as you are, as you always have been. You have never been absent, you have always been with me.’

He closed his eyes and rested his head on her breast just as he used to do when still a child, then, suddenly awakening, opened his eyes and looked at her, seeing her as she was now, a woman. They were still in the trench and time had stopped moving. He put his arms around her, and the trench became too narrow for the two of them, too narrow for his arms stretching out to enfold her, too narrow for the vast universe, as vast as the burning disc of the sun up in the heavens. And she too wound her arms around him and the trench was now too narrow for her, for her to hold the universe in her embrace. And when the light revealed them in the trench holding each other, they did not unwind their arms or move apart, but held each other in a long embrace, their bodies slowly merging into one, and the whole world stood still to watch a scene of love, to see two beings changing into one, never to part again, never afraid of the light, never afraid of death, for each of them had known what dying was. Now he and she were gone, lost in one another, dissolved. Now no force in the world could make them part again, neither the noise of guns and rockets all around nor the loud abuse of enemies or the whispers of their friends, nor the orders of the Imam or the Devil or the Chief of Security himself.

I opened my eyes and found myself standing in the trench alone with the letter folded in my hand. Where was Fadl Allah? I wondered. Where had he disappeared to? Had he died in the war? Had he died in prison? In the distance I could hear their panting breath draw nearer, their feet treading on the ground with the sound of their iron-heeled shoes. So I started to run in the dark of night, trying to save my life. They kept coming after me, their dogs yapping and barking behind them, and I kept on running, now knowing why I was running like this all the time. I had got as far as the spot where the hill begins to rise. It was just before the break of day and I was on the verge of giving them the slip when one of them took aim at me and got me in the back. My body continued to run a few steps, then fell to the ground, but before the letters of the alphabet had disappeared from my mind I said, ‘He was my brother and he was with me in the children’s home.’

‘Your sins are without end and shall be counted against you, in this world and in the world to come,’ I heard them say. ‘You are a child of sin and so is he, and his name is not written either on the lists of Hizb Allah or on those of Hizb al-Shaitan.’

I was running, and the night was black as ever. I could hear them tread with their iron feet as they chased after me. I touched my belly with my hand, feeling for it in the night as I ran. It was round and smooth and loving, warm under my palm. His voice reached me, calling from a distance, sounding like the voice of my mother: ‘Bint Allah, come here.’ He moved nearer to me, until our bodies almost touched. I wound my arms around him and we locked in a tight embrace.

A shiver like a strange fever went right through me, deep inside. A voice whispered softly in the night, ‘Fear not, I am God and you shall give birth to Christ.’ It was dark and I was still running with the letter held tightly in my hand. I hid it in my bosom when I heard them panting close behind. I delivered his letter to her. I will risk my life to save it. It is more precious to me than the most precious thing I have. I will risk being stoned to death, like the Virgin Mary who risked her life to give birth to her son, like my mother who died to bring me to the world. When I reached the place where the hill starts to rise upwards, midway between the river and the sea, the smell of the earth came back to me. Suddenly I felt safe, and just at the moment when I could have escaped I stopped to thank God for saving me.