Chapter 21

PRISON

22nd of Rajab 1417

(December 4, 1996)

The iron cage had no seats or bunks, only a floor, bars, and a hole in the ground leading to the city sewers. They confiscated Khozem’s belongings, closed his apartment, and stripped him of clothes. They did not threaten him. The guards remained cordial, almost pleasant. They were not permitted to bring him food. They tolerated Khozem’s screaming. These screams were mostly curses. The guards reclined on swivel chairs, reading the newspapers or playing cards. These guards thought of putting the tin can over him but instead ignored his insults.

Khozem collapsed in the middle of the cell, plaintively calling Rashida’s name. He refused to believe she was dead. He suspected a conspiracy to imprison both of them in separate areas of the kingdom.

He threatened the guards with his father’s name for a few hours, but they continued reading. Khozem vowed revenge. Justice would come to the whole, corrupted lot, and he and Rashida would be together again.

The next morning, the guards shook Khozem awake. In his exhaustion he was escorted to another wing of the precinct. He was the only prisoner kept there. As he walked with the guards, he noticed rows and columns of steel doors installed in the walls. The chill of the hallway, powered by a large metal fan, numbed his toes.

One of the guards pulled open a drawer from the wall, which exposed Rashida’s bare shoulders and mutilated head. Khozem caressed what remained of her face. When his tears fell over the corpse, the guards stepped away.

“Oh my Rashida,” whispered Khozem. “My sweet, gentle Rashida. What have they done to us? We were to be married. Don’t leave me like this. I have changed...”

The guards gave him handkerchiefs and led him back to his cell. The more he lamented, the drowsier he grew.

The guards awoke him for a plate of rice under a cold stew. He threw it across the room. He muttered things and laughed to himself. He thought of the punishment he would receive for the crime of zina.

The punishment was public flogging and banishment from the kingdom for one year. To say Allah sanctioned this made him think Allah could not be perfect as the scriptures demanded. But this was one thought among thousands. His thoughts became as tortuous as the red ants biting his body and feeding on the food he threw away.

The guards ignored his requests to call his family. Khozem moved to the corner of the cell, away from the red ants. He slept by the sewage dump. He awoke as he heard footsteps and greetings exchanged. He stood and paced. The footsteps came closer. The guard let out tears as he opened the gate, releasing Khozem to his father. Khozem collapsed on his father’s shoulders.

“She’s dead. Rashida’s dead.”

“I know.”

“She’s gone. I loved her more than myself. Why has Allah cursed me? What did I ever do wrong?”

Khozem, smelling terribly from the prison, wet his father’s shoulders. Tariq led him from the Meccan precinct and into the Mercedes.

Night had fallen on the city, and within the blur of tears Khozem saw the minarets of the grand mosque, shaded with aquamarine colors. Tariq placed his hands upon his. At the touch Khozem regained some of his senses.

“Tomorrow morning, you and I shall go to the Kaa’bah, together, and pray for better times,” said Tariq.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“We shall ask Allah what he thinks, and only he may fill us with ideas. Don’t be afraid. Remember, Allah does things for reasons. He steers us in directions to satisfy the greater good. Don’t be afraid. We will talk more when you are clean and better rested.”

After a long bath and a penetrating look at the Kaa’bah through his bedroom window, Khozem slid into his cool bed. ‘Things happen for a reason,’ he repeated. ‘Events in a life are not isolated moments that cut a person down by the brutality of chance. There must be an ordering to these events, whether they take place in the abyss or high atop a Meccan hill.’

His father wakened him around noon. Khozem was reassured by the sunlight. He had neither seen the sun nor remembered his father ever sitting by his side. He told his father he wanted to attend Rashida’s funeral. Her mother in Cairo had been phoned from the precinct and was to perform the rites in a few days.

After performing an ablution, they both strolled into the Kaa’bah. They performed Tawaf and rested on the side for a bit of zum zum water. Khozem had never been by his father’s side for so long. He felt awkward and uneasy, like a kid confronting a familiar stranger.

“You know, besides camping, your grandfather and I used to visit the Kaa’bah on days like this. Truly we are blessed to be able to come here so much. I think of him. A very strict fellow skilled in the ways of the faith, and while I knew I would one day follow in his footsteps, I often questioned the level of my faith.”

“I question my faith every day,” added Khozem. “Obviously I’m not so faithful.”

“The intent is there, my son. If your intentions are true and good, then Allah will always lead you, whether you are conscious of it or not. We have all transgressed one way or another. It is Allah’s way of making us see the difference between good and evil. We pay the price and move on. Allah keeps his accounts, but He is oft forgiving and most merciful. You must not forget that.”

“And has the All Mighty filled your head with ideas of what is to become of me?”

“While you slept, I had a word with the commissioner. You are to carry out your punishment under my supervision. Who else is more qualified than I really? You must agree to my punishment and my terms.”

“Of course I agree. I’d much rather be with you than those dogs.”

“They were only doing their jobs, Khozem. Without my intervention your back would be burning, and you would have been kicked out of the kingdom. You must never forget the crime you committed. I will punish you in accordance with Qu’ranic law.”