The Last of the Angels (18 page)

Khidir Musa, who was flabbergasted by this turn of events, replied, “Rebellion? I don't believe it. Fine; I'll proceed there at once.” One of the officers informed him politely, however, that orders had been issued to transport him inside a tank, for fear something untoward might happen. Khidir Musa smiled and said, “Fine; if you think that's necessary.” Then he asked Hameed Nylon to follow him and drive the delegation to the second brigade's headquarters. He climbed into the tank. Since it was cramped and stifling inside, he preferred to stand. The tank headed toward the city by way of Railroad Station Road, trailed by the convoy of vehicles returning from Baghdad.

Khidir Musa was received inside the second brigade's building, which resembled a walled fortress in the heart of the city, by a lieutenant colonel, an Arab who told him his name was Salim and who led him to an office on the right-hand side. It was near the military prison, which had windows overlooking two streets separated by a square. Summer cafés operated along the two streets and ran for a long way down them. The lieutenant colonel picked up the telephone receiver, dialed four numbers, and then spoke with someone at the other end, exchanging a few terse phrases. Afterwards he rose and said, “The group is waiting for you at the club.” He referred to the officers' club, which was located on the other side of the street. The two men set off by foot, and soldiers halted street traffic so they could cross.

Khidir Musa and the lieutenant colonel passed through the tree-shaded entrance to the club and proceeded to an elegant room where five men sat. They rose to shake hands with Khidir Musa, who looked tired. Governor Ahmad Sulayman noticed this and said, “We're sorry we didn't allow you time to rest. But we need your help.” Then after a brief pause he added, “I don't know if you've previously met His Excellency Sa‘id Khoshnaw the interior minister, and Mr. John Tissow the director general of the oil company.”

Khidir Musa replied suavely, “The honor has been culminated now.”

The two other men were the commander of the second brigade Adnan al-Dabbagh and the police chief Naji al-Rawi, whom Khidir Musa had previously met, if only in passing. The interior minister, who was a Kurd from Sulaymaniya, asked him in an Arabic that was not impeccable, “How was your meeting with His Majesty?”

Khidir Musa replied sociably in Kurdish, “It was an unforgettable encounter!” Then he added in Arabic, “If all Iraqis thought the way our king does, there would not have been any problem.”

Mr. Tissow, for whom the police chief was acting as interpreter, said, “But we have many problems, as you see, Mr. Musa.” He attached a flattering smile to his comment.

The minister of the interior interjected, “It's regrettable that public security should collapse in a city like Kirkuk the way it has. The danger should have been averted before it could occur. It is regrettable that entire neighborhoods in the city remain in rebellion despite the declaration of martial law. But we don't want a bloodbath that will carry away innocent victims.”

The chief of police said, “The problem is more the superstitious beliefs filling the city than the people. The whole city is speaking today about the dead man who rose from his grave and ascended to heaven on horseback and about the Ababil birds that supposedly attacked police headquarters.”

Khidir Musa asked with concern, “When did this happen?” The police chief replied, “Overnight, or so they say. I, for one, was asleep.”

The waiter entered with tumblers of tea and glasses of pomegranate juice. Addressing Khidir Musa, the minister of the interior said, “His Excellency Nuri Pasha has been informed of the discussion you have conducted. It will not be hard to find a solution to the problem of the road the firm needs. Mr. Tissow is in total agreement with us. The road can be routed around the cemetery. This is not a problem that will be much of a challenge for the engineers. Far more serious than that is the rebellion in the Chuqor community and other neighborhoods, where shots were fired at the police throughout the night. The instigators must be punished before we lose control of things. We can't allow this insurrection to continue.”

Khidir Musa responded, “It will be hard to set straight what has happened during the two days we spent in Baghdad. I warned of the danger before it occurred. That's why I went to see the king. But I do not believe that taking revenge on people will solve the problem.” Then he asked, “Were there any fatalities?”

The police chief replied, “An African black who worked as a barber was accidentally slain when rebels were pursuing one of our men.”

Khidir Musa frowned and observed, “I knew him; may God be merciful to him.”

Mr. Tissow, who had remained silent for most of the time, volunteered, “I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Musa. Appeasement works best with the masses. Otherwise, a bad situation will only grow worse. We actually have no wish to intrude into your internal affairs. We will, however, make every effort to improve our relations with the residents of the city. With this in mind, I announce in your presence, Mr. Musa, the cancellation of the road through the cemetery. Our engineers will devise an alternative route that will avoid any cemeteries. We will make compensatory payments to anyone whose house we are forced to demolish because it lies on the route. Moreover, the firm will undertake construction of a wall around the cemetery and restoration of the tombs of all of the Muslim saints buried there. We will also provide a monthly salary for two men to guard the cemetery.”

Khidir Musa thanked him for this fine gesture, which he said would restore people's confidence in the oil company, which was considered a vital part of the city's life. He suggested to Mr. Tissow that he should present an appropriate sum of money as compensation to the family of the man who had been killed. Mr. Tissow approved of this idea and said he had simply not thought of it.

At that point, the police chief said confrontationally, “Fine! We've yielded enough to the rebels. If they don't release my men and return the weapons they've seized, I'll make them see bloody hell.”

That was a clear threat, rife with hostility, but Khidir Musa chose to ignore it. He asserted, “Have no fear. Everything will be sorted out.” Then he added as though pressuring the police chief, “But at the same time, the killer policeman must be punished. I certainly hope he will not be rewarded for his deed.” Then he rose, excusing himself to rejoin the delegation's members who had been detained in the headquarters of the second brigade.

As he left the club, the commander of the second brigade joined him, trailed by his guards. He led him once more to the stone fortress where he indicated his intentions to Khidir Musa in a veiled manner, “You can count on me. The army will never disappoint the people.”

Khidir Musa had remarked that Adnan al-Dabbagh had remained silent throughout the meeting, and grasped that the man was made of a different metal. The commander shook hands with the notables of Kirkuk, one after the other, and apologized for inconveniencing them. When he bade farewell to Khidir Musa at the outer gate, pressing his hand firmly, he said, “Don't forget to visit me. I would like that.” Khidir Musa replied respectfully, “I certainly will.”

After eating some kebab in the restaurant of Uthman Kebabchi, which was not very far from the second brigade's headquarters, the notables headed in an awe-inspiring motorcade to al-Musalla's cemetery, which the insurgents still occupied, cutting through both the police's and the insurgents' barricades. Many of them shook their heads in sorrow over the chaos to which the city had reverted. They felt as if a portentous wave from some unknown time had slammed into it, filling its heart with tears.

“Not everything has been lost, so long as hope lingers here.” So thought Khidir Musa as he gazed through his prescription lenses at the collapsing houses on which dust and time lay heavy. Dada Hijri, who grasped nothing but his own dreams, was overcome by longing so bitter that it seemed to be the colocynth he sipped each time poetry transported him to the cavern of madness. This longing—as dark as a blot of China-ink and dotted with glowing, luminous spots of white and red—was for Dervish Bahlul, who had vanished in Baghdad. The man's face had reminded him of the ancient Torah prophets, whose portraits were sold on the other side of the city on dirt pathways for ten cents apiece along with pictures of the Imam Ali seated on his horse spearing the viper-like wild beast attacking him and of Shim'r holding al-Husayn's head, which is dripping blood as his eyes stare at death. Hameed Nylon had preceded them and joined the insurgents, who had been waiting for him perhaps more than for anyone else, for Hameed Nylon's presence among them made them feel they could thumb their noses at the entire world. Hameed Nylon sensed that he had missed something big. He wished he had been with his brothers from the community in their battle against the enemy but comforted himself with the thought, “Perhaps there will be more to come. Our struggle is greater than a fight to protect the dead.” He was so distracted by these hopes that he neglected to deliver the Roneo press entrusted to him in Baghdad, oblivious even to the danger of having the police discover it in his vehicle—an offense that could lead to his spending long years in prison. A man like Hameed Nylon, however, could not brood about such things, for it was danger itself that liberated him from fear. Surging deep within him, a dreamy intoxication, comparable to what he felt when he was with women, possessed him.

When Kirkuk's notables reached the cemetery, vast numbers of women swathed in black suddenly emerged from among the tombs, wailing and slapping their faces in grief, as if they were part of a theatrical performance. Khidir Musa shouted at them, “What are you doing?” Since none of them answered, he brushed past them and headed for the area where the men were congregated. He called out to Abbas Bahlawan and to the Chuqor community's young men, who were standing there with the others, “For the love of God, make those women be quiet. What's all this wailing about?” Then Khidir Musa climbed on the remnants of a ruined wall and delivered a speech he had been composing on the way. In it he said, “Noble sons of Kirkuk, God has annihilated the iniquity. The travesty has been destroyed.” He announced that the cemetery would not be touched, that a wall would be built around it, that the tombs of the saints would be restored, that two guards for the cemetery would be appointed, and that the family of the martyr Qara Qul Mansur would be compensated. He also communicated to them King Faisal II's personal greetings. Once Khidir Musa had reported all this heartwarming news to them, applause immediately resounded everywhere throughout the cemetery along with the women's trilling ululation. A voice from the crowd protested, however, “We want the killer policeman executed publicly here and his body displayed for people to see.” Another man declared that the police chief should himself be punished. A Communist student, whose face was covered to conceal his identity, demanded that the English imperialists be thrown out of Kirkuk and the oil company nationalized so that its profits could be distributed to the workers and the poor.

Khidir Musa listened to all this with calm self-confidence. “None of these requests seems out of reach, since the king himself stands beside us.” Then he added, “Now I think it is our duty to recite the opening prayer of the Holy Qur'an by the grave of our martyr Qara Qul.” Thus he left no room for further protest. The grave was still there, even though many of those who had witnessed the miraculous ascent to paradise of Qara Qul on Buraq's back believed they would find the grave empty. Some of these dismayed observers muttered, “We saw him with our own eyes ascend to heaven.” Mullah Zayn al-Abidin al-Qadiri, who stepped forward to lead the throng in a recitation of the Fatiha and then delivered a special prayer for the martyr, proclaimed in a thunderous voice, which was heard by all those standing behind him, that what Muslims had seen ascending to heaven had been Qara Qul Mansur's spirit on its way to paradise. His body, the spirit's temporary abode, would decay with time, like any other edifice. What need did a spirit that has been freed of its fetters have for them? He announced that the favor bestowed on Qara Qul Mansur by God's angels, who bore him to the sky up the shaft of light, was a rare one that would permit him to join the ranks of immortal saints. Actually, people who had known Qara Qul Mansur personally harbored many reservations in their hearts about the matter because the man had been a deceitful and malicious alcoholic. Since God had chosen him in the manner that people had witnessed, however, His choice must have been based on some wisdom that escaped people. Those who had quarreled with him during his lifetime regretted that they had not recognized his true worth, which had been displayed by his death.

Then emotion seized hold of people till they lost control of themselves, along with all their sense of right and wrong. They attacked the grave, men and women, and began groveling in its dirt. The blind washed out their eyes with its soil till they could see the light. Cripples crawled across it so strength would return to their legs and hands. Barren women, enveloped in their wraps, stuffed handfuls of dirt from the grave up their vaginas so they would bear children. Those afflicted with tuberculosis, syphilis, hemorrhoids, typhoid, and cancer swallowed some of the dirt to cure themselves of their maladies and pains. Young men seized this opportunity to throw themselves upon the women, squeezing against their soft buttocks or grasping their quivering breasts. This human offensive swelled ever greater as thousands of people from every direction shoved past each other toward the grave, struggling to reach it. Everyone who had heard the news pushed forward as stories and miracles were devised, detailing feats that not even the Messiah had ever performed. Country folk crowded in from nearby villages till it seemed that Judgment Day, which had been predicted by some leaflets distributed in Kirkuk a few days before, had dawned. The advancing swarms crushed underfoot those who fell, and thus some pregnant women suffered miscarriages and children were suffocated. The young athletes from the Chuqor community initially tried to take charge of the situation and fired into the air to frighten people back from the grave, but the crowds, whose consciences had been knocked out of kilter by Qara Qul Mansur's miracle, swept them away. So they yielded to the waves of people surging from everywhere. Only because Kirkuk's community leaders retreated in the nick of time did they escape death by asphyxiation. This was thanks to the courage of Chuqor's youth, who forcibly cleared a path for them to quit the cemetery, saving their lives from imminent danger.