88

 Back in R'hamna at last, surrounded  by old mementoes, treasured photographs and familiar objects of her life, Hafida sighed uncertainly and gazed around the room; the tower room where she and Radouan had first made love. Outside the open windows the olive groves were an ocean of silver in the warm breeze. Yet now that she had finally returned, suddenly she felt an unaccustomed strangeness, yes, as if she were seeing it all for the first time, a certain meaninglessness too, and she knew it was Radouan - the absence of him.

Really the past week had seemed endless to her. That awful morning, when Adam and Othman returned with the people who took him away, her habibi Radouan - one of the worst moments of her life - the memory of it receding now but still painful. She hadn’t wanted to let go of him and it occurred to her that she must have made quite a fuss; remembered Delphine holding her tenderly while her world seemed to dissolve around her and everything she had been keeping back came rushing out. She remembered shrieking and sobbing – and cursing!  Then Adam had given her a shot of something. Which must have been quite powerful because the next thing she knew she was giving her press conference, and then she was on the plane and Delphine and Mokhtar were standing over her trying to get her to drink some chicken broth that Mokhtar had prepared.  And finally when she came to her senses the first thing she thought of, of course, was Radouan. Where was he? 

          Delphine looked terrible, her hair tangled like Medusa. Pointing to the back of the plane, she had taken her hand and guided her to a large silver box resting on silver lion's paws and said he was inside it. Adam and Othman were standing there and explained that long ago Toni had ordered it for Radouan; a beautiful work of art made in Italy by a gifted young Syrian. Only Radouan, Adam, and Othman had known of its existence.  Radouan had disapproved of it on religious grounds but Toni had insisted so he had placed it in storage and forgotten about it.  Othman said it was the best way of transporting Radouan back to Marrakech and explained that there were several coffins one inside the other. The outermost silver one was carved with the design of an ancient Arab ship under full sail and inscribed with a quotation in Arabic from a famous Maghrebi poet, Sidi al Shadhili, who had lived in Alexandria: 

          ‘Subject to us, every sea here on earth and in heaven above, in the world of our senses and the invisible world, the sea of this life and the sea of the life to come. Subject to us everything, O Thou in who rules over all - Kaf Ha Ya Ayn Sad.’ 

Inside, a second box was of pure gold, inscribed with more of the same poem. The third was electrum, the fourth teakwood from Malabar, the fifth cedar from Lebanon, the sixth wood of the neem tree, and the seventh, in which Radouan’s body rested was of sandalwood from Mysore, in India.

           Such an ostentatious object had disturbed Hafida and she remembered Radouan’s oft-repeated desire that he should be wrapped in a simple kafin and buried in the Zouiya cemetery in Marrakech to become part of the earth. ‘That’s where we will all come together again,’ he would laugh, ‘the rich, the poor, the brilliant and the stupid.’  But it was an idea that was hard for their children to accept and Taha had burst into tears. ‘Dump him in the ground somewhere just like that... you must be crazy!’

          Seeing the beautifully carved silver ship riding the great ocean waves, she had been deeply moved that Toni would have thought of such a thing, so she kept quiet.  But when Mokhtar had opened all the boxes one after another and finally got to Radouan, he looked so changed, so pale; suddenly he wasn’t the man she had known at all, not even a person, really, just an object, a masque, an empty shell. It was a horrifying moment and she had screamed.  A moment she wanted to erase from memory but could not. The moment when she suddenly realized the man to whom she had devoted her whole life had left her forever… gone traveling for the last time and would never return.

She had fainted in Taha’s arms and the next thing she remembered the plane had landed at Marrakech and Mokhtar was trying to get her to sit up. And there was Adam trying to give her another injection to get her though the next few hours, and Delphine trying to get her into a Haik.  Sometimes they were very useful, those haiks. She certainly hadn’t wanted anyone to see how she looked.

          Outside the plane, the scene was incredible: a huge crowd had gathered, every R’hamna who could get there had come and on the tarmac below, their immediate family had gathered while a glass enclosed lift was maneuvered into place. Then eight of their boys carried the coffin into it and when they reached the ground carried it on their shoulders to an open van. After that she and Delphine were helped into the lead car of a cavalcade which followed the van to the Baroness old ksar, Dar Chems, where Radouan’s body would rest in the mausoleum until his Testament was read out.  Along the way, people stood in small groups waving and throwing flowers.

Unless he left instructions in his Testament to the contrary, Adam had finally conceded, the easiest thing would be to inter Radouan at Dar Chems. But that afternoon as she sat having tea with Mokhtar and they observed how the neighborhood was fast becoming a Mahgrebi version of Los Angeles, they decided it might be better to bury Radouan in R’hamna where they would have more control over development around them. ‘Why can’t we take the Baroness there too?’ Mokhtar asked, ‘move the whole mausoleum and every one in it to R’hamna. It came here in pieces. Why can’t it be taken apart and moved.’  Hopefully Radouan’s Testament would clarify things and give them guidance.

          By eight that evening she and Delphine along with Fouzia, Mokhtar and all the children and grandchildren, had gathered in the grand salon of Dar Chems to hear Mr. Somers read the Testament.  Somers was a senior partner of the firm that handled Radouan’s affairs after Prospero died.  She remembered thinking how very strange it was after so many years, to be back in that beautiful room with its crimson silk walls hung with paintings framed in gold; everything exactly as it always had been.  And remembered how impressed she had been when Radouan first brought her there some weeks after their marriage, showed her photos of the Baroness and her friends and told her many stories about them.

Even though she had never known her, Hafida began to feel the Baroness’ presence: intelligent, intuitive, wildly carefree but never out of control. Was she there now watching and judging them?

          A large screen stood beside Mr. Somers’ desk. He welcomed them all and said he had a surprise for them; then nervously shuffled some papers and pressed a button.         

          ‘I, Radouan-Jannat ibn Ibrahim ibn Abbas ibn Hassan al Uld Billah, do declare the following to be my last Will and Testament.’

          Suddenly Radouan’s voice filled the room, and there he was before them on the screen speaking in English. She felt faint again. Delphine covered her face with her scarf and burst into tears. Mokhtar slowly drew in his breath and stared wide-eyed.  But there he was among us, Radouan, full of life, looking very smart in a pair of cream colored silk pajamas, sitting in the Baroness’ suite reading from a sheaf of papers.

          He grinned shyly and spoke carefully. She judged the recording must have been made recently.

          ‘This was my idea...  Somers here did not approve... I hope it doesn’t upset you... and that it will be a document for those who come after me.’

‘First, I want to thank you all for a life that has been happier than I ever could have expected. I would also like to thank the members of our extended family who were directly responsible for our successes and who left this world before me. I’m thinking about Toni, Pero, Nicholas, and Rupert... I hope they can hear me now and that I’ll see them all soon... Inch Allah.'

 'We’ve had some tender moments in this room and must always remember and thank God for the one who made it possible, our Baroness Minna... may The Lord of the Spirit World protect her.  As time goes by you may find that she is still here. Believe me, since she died I have spoken with her many times in this very room…yes, and for that reason, if for no other, we must keep this place exactly as it is... also Toni’s place down the road... preserve them for future generations... the houses, the gardens, the orchards and olive groves, so that they will know how we lived... once upon a time..’

          ‘As the owner of these properties it is my wish that they be given to As- Sabil for its international headquarters... never to be sold or divided.’ 

          ‘In the name of God the Compassionate, the Merciful, I ask that you work hard to sustain As-Sabil... bring it the means from whence we know not so that it may continue helping the people...’

          ‘Praise be to God, there is no power, no strength, save in the Almighty.  On whomever he wishes without reckoning, he bestows riches. Oh Lord, I ask your forgiveness of my sins and repent to you all my faults...’

          Then Radouan had shuffled the papers before him, put on his reading glasses and smiled out at them. Hafida found herself struggling to hold back tears.                 

          ‘Which brings me to the subject of where my bones will rest... a difficult decision for me... My father, Peace be upon him, made me promise to be buried beside him in R’hamna in an ordinary grave and I have asked Adam to be buried there beside me...  On the other hand, the Baroness, may God cherish her, made me promise I would be interred near her; and built the Mausoleum you have all seen here in the garden for that purpose, in which her true son Youssef as well as Pero, Toni, and Nicholas, already lie.’

          He looked up over his glasses and nodded.

          ‘I’m sure Hafida and Delphine have been puzzling over just what to do about this... Hafida, my keeper, my love... and Delphine my all consuming passion... Alors, this is my solution. Because the region here is being destroyed by greed and unsustainable development, and the tranquillity which we have enjoyed here for so many years is surely going to an end... Mach Allah… It is my wish that the entire mausoleum from its foundation stones to its cupola be moved to R’hamna along with its occupants so that we can all be together there, and that a mosque dedicated to Sidi Bou Othman be constructed beside it. However, it’s important for me that I be buried in the earth, wrapped in a simple cotton cloth and not interred in a niche in the wall of a mausoleum. So you will have to bury my body in the customary way near my father and then rebuild the mausoleum around us. Very generous it was for Toni to have that silver coffin made but she never understood that it is not our custom... we do not want to be mummies... we want our bodies to dissolve in the earth and bring forth more life.’ 

          ‘I worry also that the Baroness’ ghost may feel lonely here in this house without us... but as I do not believe ghosts respect space or time, if we remove her body to R’hamna, her ghost will surely follow.  As this place will become the headquarters of As-Sabil... God willing, her ghost would also be happy here where there would always be sympathetic people for her to speak with - Maybe my ghost will be wandering'  around here too.’

            A sly smile crossed his lips and he adjusted his glasses.                                       

          ‘As most of you know, my personal assets, land, shares, cash, etc., make up the capital of one large privately held Compagnie ELAL, in which you will all receive voting shares. It is my wish that all decisions and settlements of disputes, which may arise between you, will be settled by a three-quarters majority vote. So many fortunes have been destroyed by fighting among heirs; I hope you will be able to abide by this.’

          ‘The number of votes each of you will have is equal to the percentage you will inherit.  I hope you and your heirs will keep ELAL privately held for as long as you are able.’

          ‘Bequests are as follows: 8% each to Hafida and Delphine... 4% each to Fouzia and Mokhtar...  and 3% each to Aicha, Khadija, Adam and Othman, whom I appoint as our representatives on the board of ELAL, without salaries, for as long as they are able to handle the job... after which their positions should be given to other members of the family chosen by the surviving heirs, with appropriate remuneration.  Adam, I appoint as Chairman of ELAL, and Othman its CEO.’

          ‘To each of my remaining twenty-one children I leave 2.5% each, the remaining 11.5% to be divided equally between my living brothers and sisters, (except Fouzia who has  already been noted here) or their descendants. There are also various bequests in cash and three trusts for Toni's grandchildren which can be taken out before anything else is done.’

          ‘The shares of my female children will be held in separate irrevocable trusts so they cannot be looted by husbands or gigolos...’

           He had pointed at the camera and laughed.

          ‘Monies from these trusts can be given monthly to my female children for their comfort and support.  Upon their deaths these trusts are to be passed on to their children who, when they reach the age of thirty, will be given full control of the assets.

          ‘The shares for my male children will be given to them directly, except for those under thirty whose shares will be held in trusts like their sisters’, until they reach that age.’ 

          ‘Really, I’m just giving you a short summary... the details are more complicated... but be sure they are all in your favor... to protect and provide for you all... and for future generations.  During the last forty-eight years my private assets have doubled every five or six years, so you will be well provided for.’

 Putting down his glasses, he sipped some wine and cleared his throat.

          ‘Now listen to me... I want to give you advice from the grave and hope you will remember it.  

          ‘This world you are living in is a mischievous lover. What we think will happen usually does not... and what we don’t expect usually does... Yes, my beloveds as you’ve heard me say many times, Life is God’s Joke so watch out! He favors whom he chooses and we cannot understand his choices because we are part of them... part of the Joke. Time seems to rush by, but it’s our own invention and really nothing ever changes... jus’ takes different forms. That’s part of the Joke too.  We invent instruments to explain and explore this puzzle, but it is hopeless because all our mathematics and technologies reflect the structure of our brain which belongs to God alone. We appear to be caught in a process which has a beginning and end... birth and death... yet we must always remember that no living thing ever asked to be born... or to die.  

          ‘As we are all trapped inside this conundrum, what is left to guide our behavior? Compassion.  Yes, Compassion.  When all our systems have failed, when everything has been taken from us, what is left is something we call Compassion, which is more than just attraction and repulsion... nor is it possessive or practical. We call The All Mighty Compassionate because He has gifted us humans the emotion of Compassion. 

Imagine us as passengers adrift in a rudderless ship blown about on a sea where even the stars cannot guide us. Islam means surrendering to this universal truth while still going about the business of living one’s life.  By practicing Compassion we can soften the cruel blows of this struggle. Let compassion be your rudder, be kind and forgiving and you will be happy.' 

As the Merciful One is Compassionate he will also forgive you for straying from the straight path.  He knows that ignoring the djinns of desire cannot conquer Shaitan, and he will forgive you.  Believe me, I am an expert in what some people call Sin... but I know if you are Compassionate you cannot Sin no matter what you do or what religions say.  Maybe you will make mistakes but you won’t sin...

          Compassion is the instrument of choice. Compassion is Mansour, my darlings, the winner.’

            Then he leaned forward intently.

          ‘But going about the business of living one’s life means taking action and as a guide to that there is an old Sufi saying which goes, ‘ All our so- called plans are fantasies and adventures. Observe the accidental, the coincidental for they are Gods real plan.

 Man’s plans… sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t.  More often they are mistakes that cause more problems. The All Mighty’s plan makes itself known in the accidental encounter, the unforeseen disaster.’

          ‘So you must be watchful, my children and learn to read the omens because for every action there is always a reaction. Never take action in haste...  Act in haste repent for ever, so the saying goes... because finally the reaction will catch you up...  may be years coming... may be pleasant or may come suddenly like a thief in the night. The fruits of your actions will always overtake and haunt you.  So learn agility and the courage to change… to walk the tight rope of life but not to not linger upon it...'

           Then he sighed, nodded his head and looked out at them.

          ‘I have lingered too long.

          ‘I have written each one of you a personal letter that Mr. Somers will be giving you.  I want you to be happy now that old Radouan has been released from life’s burdens... really, I have always believed that death should be celebrated so don’t mourn me... Though I’ve gone on ahead, I am also with you. Get on with your lives and perhaps, as some say, we’ll meet and speak again in the World behind the World.’

           ‘Tomorrow or the day after, at Toni’s place, I want you to make a big feast, call all your friends and any old friends of mine who are still around... call musicians, wine bearers and dancers... Sing and let the wine flow and I’ll be dancing with you...’

          Smiling shyly, shuffling the papers in front of him, he began to chuckle then laugh and the recording ended with him blowing kisses at them with both hands. 

          Hafida remembered how Delphine had trembled, how many sobs there had been in that room and how finally Aicha had rescued them all by having tea and sweets served, while from the garden the consoling sounds of a flute had calmed their nerves.   

          Before she went to bed that night she had knelt down and spoken to him:

          ‘I go to bed happy, my husband, for the first time since you left me... because now I have this souvenir of you..  It makes me feel Okay... and I know now you will always be with me. Chokrun, my habibi!   Yah, may peace be upon you. Chokrun!’