Leo Africanus (42 page)

All night, the vision of the condemned man remained fixed before my eyes. But in the morning, emboldened by bitterness and insomnia and insensitive to danger, I took the road to the pyramids.

Without being aware of it, I had chosen the best moment to escape; the Ottomans, put at ease by the execution of their enemy, had relaxed their vigilance, while the associates of Tumanbay, stunned by their defeat, had taken flight. Of course, we had to stop five or six times to answer various suspicious questions. But we were neither molested nor robbed, and night found us lying peacefully once more at Khadra's house, in the cottage of our first loves.

There, several months of simple and unexpected happiness passed by. Too small and too poor to attract covetous eyes, the nurse's village existed cut off from wars and disturbances. But this quiet existence could only serve for me as a shady oasis between two long stages. Noises from afar were calling me, and it was written that I should not remain deaf to their temptations.

924 A.H.
13 January 1518 – 2 January 1519

I emerged with no certainties from my long rural retreat, studded with contemplations and silent walks. All cities were perishable; all empires devouring, Providence unfathomable. The only things which comforted me were the Nile flood, the movement of the stars, and the seasonal births of the buffaloes.

When the hour to leave arrived, it was towards Mecca that I turned my face. A pilgrimage was a necessity for my life. As Nur was apprehensive about the journey with two children, one aged one year and the other four, I asked Khadra to come with us, which gave her great joy, swearing that she awaited no other reward than the privilege of expiring in the Holy Places. A sailing ship took us from the African shore of the river, half a day from Giza, towards the south. It belonged to a rich manufacturer of sesame oil, who was taking his merchandise to Upper Egypt, stopping a day or two in every town of any importance. Thus we visited Bani Su waif, al-Minya, then Manfalut, where an old man joined us. That same night, taking advantage of the silence and the fact that the children were asleep, I was beginning to write, by the light of a candle, when this new passenger called out to me:

‘Hey, you! Go and wake one of the sailors! I can see a big piece of wood in the water which will be very useful for cooking tomorrow!'

I did not like his janissary tone, nor his hoarse voice, nor his suggestion in the middle of the night. However, out of consideration for his age I replied to him without any disrespect:

‘It's midnight, it would be better not wake anyone. But I can
probably help you myself.'

I put my pen down reluctantly, and went a few steps towards him. But he called out touchily:

‘I don't need anyone. I'll manage fine on my own!'

He was leaning overboard, holding a rope in his hand with which he was trying to catch the floating plank, when suddenly a long tail shot up from the water, coiled around him and threw him into the Nile. I began to shout, rousing passengers and crewmen savagely from their sleep. The sail was struck in order to stop the craft, which was moored for a whole hour on the bank, while the brave sailors threw themselves into the water. But to no avail. Everyone agreed that the unfortunate man had been eaten by a crocodile.

Throughout the rest of the voyage I heard the most extraordinary tales about these enormous lizards which terrorize Upper Egypt. It seems that at the time of the pharaohs, then of the Romans, and even at the beginning of the Muslim conquest, the crocodiles did relatively little damage. But in the third century of the
hijra
a most strange event occurred. In a cave near Manfalut a life-size statue cast in lead representing one of these animals was found, covered with pharaonic inscriptions. Thinking that it was some sort of ungodly idol, the governor of Egypt at the time, a certain Ibn Tulun, ordered that it should be destroyed. From one day to the next the crocodiles unleashed their fury, attacking men with hatred and sowing terror and death. It was then understood that the statue had been put up under certain astrological conjunctions in order to tame these animals. Most fortunately, the curse was confined to Upper Egypt; below Cairo, the crocodiles never eat human flesh, probably because the statue which inhibits them has never been found again.

After Manfalut we passed by Assyut, but did not stop there, because of a further epidemic of plague that had been reported there. Our next port of call was al-Munshiya, where I visited the Berber ruler who governed it. Next was al-Khiam, a little town whose population was entirely Christian, with the exception of the chief of police. Two days later we were at Qina, a large market town surrounded by a wall of mud brick from which the heads of three hundred crocodiles were hanging triumphantly. It was there that we took the land route to go to the port of al-Qusayr, on the Red Sea, equipped with full goatskins for the journey, because there is not a single watering place between the Nile and the Red Sea. We did not take more than a week to reach Yanbu‘, the port of Arabia Deserta,
where we berthed at the appearance of the crescent moon of Rabi‘ al-Thani, when the annual pilgrimage season was almost reaching its end. Six days later, we were in Jidda.

In this harbour, which prosperity has passed by, there are few things worth visiting. Most of the houses are wooden huts, apart from two old mosques and a few hostelries. A modest dome should also be mentioned, where it is claimed that Our Lady Eve, mother of mankind, had spent some nights. That year, the town was administered for the time being by an Ottoman admiral, who had got rid of the former governor, who had remained faithful to the Mamelukes, by throwing him out of a ship in an area infested with sharks. The population, who were mostly poor, were expecting the new government to deal ruthlessly with the unbelievers who were interfering with trade in the Red Sea.

We stayed only two days at Jidda, time to make contact with a caravan leaving for Mecca. Halfway between the two cities I took off my clothes to put on the
ihram
of the penitents, two long seamless strips of white material, one worn round the waist, the other round the shoulders. My lips repeated tirelessly the cry of the pilgrims: ‘
Labbaika, Allahuma! Labbaika, Allahuma!
, Here am I, Lord!' My eyes searched for Mecca on the horizon, but it was not until the end of another day's journey that I saw the holy city, and then only when I arrived before its walls. The town where the Prophet was born, peace and blessing be upon him! is situated at the bottom of a valley surrounded by mountains which protect it from prying eyes.

I entered the city through Bab al-‘Umrah, the busiest of its three gates. The streets seemed very narrow, and the houses clinging to one another, but better constructed and richer than those of Jidda. The suqs were full of fresh fruit, in spite of the aridity of the environment.

With every step I took I felt myself transported into a world of dreams; this city, built on this sterile soil, seemed never to have had any destiny other than contemplation; at the centre, the Noble Mosque, the House of Abraham; and at the heart of the mosque, the Ka‘ba, an imposing building which I longed to walk round until I became exhausted, each of whose corners bears a name: the Corner of Iraq, the Corner of Syria, the Corner of Yemen, the Black Corner, the most venerated, facing eastwards. It is there that the Black Stone is embedded. I had been told that in touching it I was touching the right hand of the Creator. Usually, so many people were pressing
themselves against it that it was impossible to contemplate it for any length of time. But as the great waves of pilgrims had passed I could approach the Stone at leisure, covering it with tears and kisses.

When it was time for me to let Nur, who was following me at a distance, take my place, I went off to drink the blessed water of Zamzam under a vault near the Ka‘ba. Then, noticing that the door of the Ka‘ba had just been opened for some distinguished visitor, I hastened to go inside, long enough for a prayer. It was paved in white marble streaked with red and blue, with black silk hangings covering the whole length of the walls.

The next day I went back to the same places, and repeated the same rituals with fervour, and then sat down for hours, leaning against the wall of the mosque, oblivious to what was going on around me. I was not trying to think about anything in particular. My spirit was simply open to the spirit of God as a flower to the morning dew, and I felt such well-being that all words, all gestures, all looks became futile. I rose to go with regret at the close of each day and returned with joy each morning.

Often, in the course of my meditation, verses of the Qur'an came back into my memory, particularly those of the
sura
of the Cow, which evoke the Ka‘ba at length: ‘We have established the Holy House to be a retreat and a place of security for mankind, and we have said: “Take the station of Abraham for a place of prayer.” ' My lips were murmuring the words of the Most High, as at the time of the Great Recitation, without stammering or distortion. ‘Say: We believe in God and in that which has been sent down to us from Heaven, to Abraham and Ismail, to Isaac, to Jacob, to the twelve tribes, to the Books which have been given to Moses and to Jesus, to the Books delivered to the prophets from their Lord; we make no distinction between them, and we are Muslims, resigned to the will of God.'

We left Mecca after a month, which passed by more quickly than a night of love. My eyes were still full of silence, and Nur kept the noise of the children from me. We were travelling towards the north, to visit the tomb of the Messenger of God at Medina, before reaching Tabuk, Aqaba and then Gaza, where a merchant from the Sous
offered to take us on board his ship, a caravel moored in a creek to the west of the town. I had met this man during the last part of the journey, and we often rode side by side. He was called ‘Abbad. He was my age and my height, shared my liking for business and travel, but where I had anxiety he had only frankness. It is true that he had read few books, so he maintained intact a certain ignorance which I had lost too early.

We were already at sea when Nur asked me for the first time:

‘Where are we going?'

The answer should have been obvious, as much for her as for me. Did I not have a house in Tunis, where my mother and my eldest daughter were waiting for me? Nevertheless, I remained silent, wearing an enigmatic smile. My Circassian insisted:

‘What have you said to your friend?'

‘His boat will go right across the Mediterranean before going on down the Atlantic coast after Tangier. We will get off where we please.'

Instead of showing her anxiety, Nur put on a singsong voice:

‘Neither in Egypt, nor in Syria, nor in Candia . . .'

I continued, amused by the game:

‘Nor in the Kingdom of Fez, nor in Sus . . .'

‘Nor at Bursa, nor at Constantinople . . .'

‘Nor at Algiers . . .'

‘Nor in Circassia . . .'

‘Nor in Andalus . . .'

Both of us let out long peals of affected laughter, watching closely out of the corner of our eyes to see which one would be the first to give in to the shameful nostalgia of the exiled. I had to wait ten days before seeing the tears, black with dust and lead ore, which betrayed Nur's deepest fears.

We had put in at Alexandria in order to provision ourselves, and just as we were getting ready to depart an officer of the Ottoman garrison came on board for a last inspection, something which was nothing out of the ordinary in itself. The man probably only nurtured the suspicions which his position required, but he had a way of examining faces which gave each one the sense that he had done wrong, of being on the run, and of having been recognized.

All of a sudden Nur's son struggled free of Khadra, who was holding him, and ran straight towards the soldier.

‘Bayazid!' called the nurse.

Hearing this name, the Ottoman leaned towards the child, brought him up to his own height at arm's length and began to turn him round, insistently examining his hair, his hands and his neck.