The Moorish Story

I am Moulay Said Ben Belakher. I was a rich merchant of Tiznit, by the western seas of Morrocco. In my time I was prosperous and all that knew me prospered also. I bought and sold goods, and I lent money. My friends drew upon my generous purse and they too knew a long time of plenty.

But times change, and sure as the heavens raise and lower the stars, all in our land met with hardship. My trade was poor and I feared that I would be broken so I called in the debts I could from friend and foe alike. But all were afraid and in difficulty. My closest friend Hassan Farouk El-Jamali most of all. Yet I persisted in my demands and to his hounour he repaid me. But his trade was poor being upon the seas and he could not carry on.

In the end I began to profit. I need not have called in so many debts perhaps. But my friend Hassan, sad to say, lost everything. In the end he drowned in the far seas, sunk with his last ship in a last effort to bring a cargo home. Some said it was misadventure, some that he had sunk the ship himself and thad taken his own life. Even as a rumour, this brought his family into disrepute and they were driven out to live as beasts in the deserts with the wild Berber tribes.

I was stricken with guilt. I who could have saved his business and his life, did nothing and let him struggle and die. So I gave it all away and set myself to walk east to Mecca and there to kneel before the tomb of the Prophet to ask forgiveness and offer atonement. Yes, I am walking across the desert to find salvation or to die in the journey. I do not much care. My fate is in the hands of Allah, whose will is just.

So I am walking now. It is seven weeks I have travelled, seldom seeing another souls for I travel by night and rest by day. I take what water I can at oases and I eat even less. At night I have the heavens to guide me. On my left hand I have the North Star that sits on the horizon unmoving, to the south for half the night I have the , the Scimitar that some call the Southern Cross.

Before me I have the rising stars, those I follow against landmarks on the horizon for a time, replacing them with another guide star as heaven turns.

As I go I watch the shapes of the heavens and remember the stories of the stars from my childhood and from the days I spent with my own children in their turn. But most of all I see the shapes of my guilt and remorse. There in the sky rising over me is the Scorpion. He reminds me of my wretched state. I am that poisonous creature. I am a venomous beast that scuttles across the desert sand shunned by all living things. See how it falls behind me.

I am waiting for a sign of hope, for as teh Scorpin sinks to erest, there will rise in the east sthe stars which remind me of the mountains of my home. These are the High Atlas and the stars that make this shape are those the northerners and Infidels call the Hunter. Here in the equator of the world he lies on one side. To me he is two peaks: to the North Jebel Erfoud and to the South Jebel Toubkal, between lies the valley of the Pass of Tizi n'Tichka through which runs three stars, the river of life. When I see that I feel that I am travelling to regain my life and that I do not travel without hope.

And I am reminded of the great Sultan who asked his Sufi master to provide him with a speacial gift. He desired a gift that would make him content when he faced despair, and humble when overflowing with joy. The master came to him and brought a simple silver ring. 'What is this?' the Sultan cried. 'How can a mere ring perform such a feat as I require?' The master replied, 'Sire, read the inscription engraved thereon. And remember it for it will bring contentment out of despair, and humility our of unrestrained rapture.' The Sultan read the words: 'This too must pass'. And I too am travelling with hope and humility. However my journey ends I know: This too must pass.