Read Online The Theocrat: A Modern Arabic Novel (Modern Arabic Literature) by Bensalem Himmich - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bensalem Himmich
Tags: General Fiction
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of agony. All this haunted him in his dreams, as it played itself in front of his closed eyes like a never-ending strip the particular cases of people with narrow anal passages and hemorroids. In recent weeks he had taken to pushing these images out of his mind by trying to stay awake, drinking excessive amounts of coffee, and taking amphetamines. As a direct result he was feeling totally exhausted. The only thing that prevented his condition from becoming very obvious was that every day he swallowed huge amounts of fortifying drugs that al-Hakim bi-Amr Illah’s assistants provided for him. Al-Hakim had decided to send him to Alexandria to carry out exactly the same task on other folk who were duping and swindling customers, and yet he could not even stand the thought; and at the same time he had no other choice apart from the very worst of eventualities and certain death.
On that fateful day when Mas‘ud received al-Hakim’s command, a state of total exhaustion came over his entire body, accompanied by a general debility and chronic insomnia. He lay there dozing occasionally but otherwise awake, progressing from one dreadful nightmare to another that was even worse. Droves of merchants and professionals would appear, each one devising new ways of reviling and poking fun at him; what scared him most was the thought of butchers either castrating or sodomizing him. The only way Mas‘ud found of ridding himself of these appalling visions was to rush around and mouth insane threats that weremagnified yet further by shouts and roars. These would resonate so much that even al-Hakim got to hear them. When he asked what they told him that the slave Mas‘ud could see things that they could not; he was fighting legions of demons and other invisible creatures. He seemed to be like one possessed by the very devil. Al-Hakim commanded that he should be fed more almonds and harisa. If he did not recover his normal demeanor, he was to be beaten with sticks in the hope of dispelling his misery and recalcitrance.
But neither force feeding nor beating did anything to improve Mas‘ud’s condition, even a little. He actually began to lose weight. In a single week his body became even skinnier, and his bones started to jut out. People started talking about the way the slave was wasting away, while others were more scabrous in their descriptions of the way he was gradually disappearing from his grain to his sexual organ.
Mas‘ud was completely worn down and mentally deranged, but even so he was forcibly dragged to the markets in order to carry out the duties expected of him. It soon became completely obvious to the guards, the people due for punishment, and the entire merchant population that Mas‘ud had totally lost his potency. Aphrodisiacs no longer worked, nor did words of encouragement. Such was his condition that inevitably he became an object of general ridicule and malice.
Once Mas‘ud’s condition and the loss of his primary asset became obvious, he was confined to a cell close to the palace stables. There he was allowed to sleep in peace with nothing to wrack his nerves. Occasionally he would wake up, eat the scraps of food he was offered, and guffaw in bitter despair.
Running away or of even thinking about it was out of the question! For this slave, it wasn’t the idea of other people’s stares and swords that stirred the fires of hell. For him, hell had sunk its claws deep inside his very self. In fact, he had never experienced wars, revolutions, or natural disasters; if he had, the impact of his demise might have been easier to bear. As it was, the people around him were indolent and kept up a monotonous routine that did not give him the opportunity to reflect or toraise painful questions and suspicions. No indeed, this particular brand of hell forced him to recall terrifying incidents. Every day these memories would cause him yet more grief, and his attempts to shut them out would only make things worse. He would
On that fateful day when Mas‘ud received al-Hakim’s command, a state of total exhaustion came over his entire body, accompanied by a general debility and chronic insomnia. He lay there dozing occasionally but otherwise awake, progressing from one dreadful nightmare to another that was even worse. Droves of merchants and professionals would appear, each one devising new ways of reviling and poking fun at him; what scared him most was the thought of butchers either castrating or sodomizing him. The only way Mas‘ud found of ridding himself of these appalling visions was to rush around and mouth insane threats that weremagnified yet further by shouts and roars. These would resonate so much that even al-Hakim got to hear them. When he asked what they told him that the slave Mas‘ud could see things that they could not; he was fighting legions of demons and other invisible creatures. He seemed to be like one possessed by the very devil. Al-Hakim commanded that he should be fed more almonds and harisa. If he did not recover his normal demeanor, he was to be beaten with sticks in the hope of dispelling his misery and recalcitrance.
But neither force feeding nor beating did anything to improve Mas‘ud’s condition, even a little. He actually began to lose weight. In a single week his body became even skinnier, and his bones started to jut out. People started talking about the way the slave was wasting away, while others were more scabrous in their descriptions of the way he was gradually disappearing from his grain to his sexual organ.
Mas‘ud was completely worn down and mentally deranged, but even so he was forcibly dragged to the markets in order to carry out the duties expected of him. It soon became completely obvious to the guards, the people due for punishment, and the entire merchant population that Mas‘ud had totally lost his potency. Aphrodisiacs no longer worked, nor did words of encouragement. Such was his condition that inevitably he became an object of general ridicule and malice.
Once Mas‘ud’s condition and the loss of his primary asset became obvious, he was confined to a cell close to the palace stables. There he was allowed to sleep in peace with nothing to wrack his nerves. Occasionally he would wake up, eat the scraps of food he was offered, and guffaw in bitter despair.
Running away or of even thinking about it was out of the question! For this slave, it wasn’t the idea of other people’s stares and swords that stirred the fires of hell. For him, hell had sunk its claws deep inside his very self. In fact, he had never experienced wars, revolutions, or natural disasters; if he had, the impact of his demise might have been easier to bear. As it was, the people around him were indolent and kept up a monotonous routine that did not give him the opportunity to reflect or toraise painful questions and suspicions. No indeed, this particular brand of hell forced him to recall terrifying incidents. Every day these memories would cause him yet more grief, and his attempts to shut them out would only make things worse. He would
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