Voices of Islam (104 page)

On another night, I once again had a vision while asleep, and when I awoke in the morning, I set off to look for my father to tell him of it. I found him that day standing with a group of visiting disciples outside the door to the great hall of the
zawiya.
I approached him and said, ‘‘O my lord! I saw in my sleep that I was standing before the gate of Paradise. The guard- ian angel opened the gate, and called to me, saying, ‘Enter.’ ‘I will not enter,’ I said. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘I will not enter until my father’s disciple Hajj Salim Baliq enters.’ ‘Then let him enter,’ the Summoning Angel said. Still I remained where I was and did not enter. I heard the Summoning Angel say a second time, ‘Enter.’ I replied, ‘I will not enter.’ ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘I will only enter when all of our brethren have entered,’ I said, and he replied, ‘Then let them enter.’ It was then that I awoke.’’ When my father heard this, his eyes were fi led with tears, and I heard him say to our brethren, ‘‘My daughter Fatima is a true disciple, for she loves all of the brethren on the Path. May my Lord grant her victory!’’

On the 16th night of Ramadan, in the year 1316 of the Hijra (January 28, 1899), my father said his obligatory prayers, then stayed awake and kept vigil for half the night in spite of being 108 years old at the time. He then retired to his bed, which was in the same room in which he worshiped. There, in per- fect repose and silence, he left this world to meet his Lord just before dawn. He was one who pleased God and whose soul was in peace, for he possessed confidence in God to the greatest possible degree and had spent his entire life in the service of the primordial (
hanif
) religion by guiding aspirants and spreading the teachings of Sufi far and wide. My relationship with my father was founded upon veneration, respect, and great spiritual love. Because of this love, which filled all my thoughts and my heart, I am helpless to describe here the extent of the grief and pain I felt upon his passing to the everlasting Paradise. From the moment the news of his death reached my ears, I felt as though I had fallen from heaven down to earth. I left our house and went to the
zawiya,
wandering without knowing where I was going. It is true, of course, that I was only eight years old when my father passed away, but whoever had lived as I had lived, in his shadow and among the most eminent leaders in thought and learning, and whoever had enjoyed guidance such as his would no doubt have experienced the events and changes that came to pass not as a small child, but as an adult possessed of a fully mature mind. I can remember that on the third day after my father passed away, I was affl cted with an illness that confi me to my bed as a result of my extreme grief and pain. While, in bed I picked up the Qur’an

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and began reading
Surat al-Kahf
(Qur’an 18, The Cave). I came to the verse that says, ‘‘And their father had been righteous, and thy Lord intended that they should come to their full strength and should bring forth their treasure as a mercy from their Lord’’ (Qur’an 18:82). Upon reading this verse, I felt a great peace entering my soul, bringing rest to my mind and calm to my wounded heart. I realized at that moment that God, Glorious and Most High, would not forsake me, and that my father’s care for me ever since I came into this world was clear proof that God had taken my hand and would guide my footsteps and illuminate my heart so that I would be shown what was best for me in my religious and worldly life.

I was afraid that after my father’s death I would lose the opportunity to attend meetings of scholars and doctors of the law and that I could no longer go to the study circles that were attended by scholars and Sufi who came from various parts of the city and from distant towns to hear my father’s discourses, explanations, and interpretations. Fortunately, however, my link with these learned men was not broken at all after his death; in fact, they became even kinder to my sister and me. The bonds between us were strengthened and the roots of our relationship deepened and remained strong throughout my life. Such friendship had a great impact upon me and was to infl nce the formation of my character. As the Shadhili master Taj al-Din Ibn ‘Ata’illah al-Iskandari (d. 1309
CE
) said in his
Kitab al- Hikam
(Book of Aphorisms): ‘‘Do not befriend one whose state does not inspire you, or whose words do not lead you to God.’’ This was the direction toward which my father had led me and which he wished me to follow. Without doubt, it was my mother who helped the most to nurture the growth of the Sufi spirit in my sister and me after my father’s departure from this earthly life. She always urged us to practice what our father had desired of us. Among the things that helped us realize this goal were a library at the
zawiya
that contained precious and valuable books and my father’s private library in our house. Although I was still very young, I decided to try to read many of the books in these libraries, so that through their instruction I might obtain of my father’s teaching what I otherwise would have missed.

I asked my mother for permission to veil myself in front of the great scholars and the male disciples of my father. She consulted with my brother Ibrahim and with the scholars and brethren that we knew, but they all agreed that I should not be permitted to use the veil when I was with them. She did permit me, however, to dress as I had done in the days of my father, and meet these men in our house wearing a wide, white prayer scarf on my head. In the street, I went veiled like the rest of the young ladies of the day, for in that time this practice was observed most strictly.

I cannot be certain at what point in my life I learned to write. Moreover, I do not remember sitting before a teacher and learning writing from him, and I cannot recall the first time I ever picked up a pen. All I can remember is that I wanted to learn to write ever since I began to understand the nature

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of things. After my father’s death I used to see Hajj Salim writing letters to his family. I would take one of these letters, put a thin piece of paper over it, and trace onto it what he had written in his letter. He would watch me doing this, and after some weeks he asked me, ‘‘What are you doing, mistress?’’ ‘‘I am drawing the word on the thin paper,’’ I replied. ‘‘I am just playing with it.’’ He said, ‘‘Are you able to understand the meaning of the words you are writing?’’ ‘‘Yes,’’ I said. ‘‘Have you forgotten that I have completed the Qur’an and know some of its verses by heart?’’ He said, ‘‘Then read what you have written.’’ So I read it, and he said, ‘‘Now I will write a line for you and you copy it out for me.’’ So I tried and succeeded in copying the line of words without using the thin paper. Hajj Salim went on teaching me to write in this way, and that is why my handwriting resembles Hajj Salim’s. I remember that after I wrote the first line, Hajj Salim went to tell the good news to my mother, saying, ‘‘My lady, little Fatima has learned to write by herself through the blessing of her father!’’ My mother was very happy at this, as was everyone else in the house at that time.

The home in which a child is raised has a great and lasting influence on her and determines to a large degree the formation of her personality. I remem- ber my sister ‘A’isha, the firstborn of my father, when she was about 90 years old. I never saw her without a book in her hand. In her free time, she used to see to her religious duties, reciting the litanies and invoking the name of God. After this, she spent most of her time reading books. She not only read religious works on theology and Sufism, but also books on history, literature, and ancient and modern poetry. She was very happy to see me at the age of nine or ten, with so much determination, working hard to read as much as possible to increase myself in wisdom and learning. My mother feared that I read too much, especially during my severe bouts of asthma, but my sister ‘A’isha used to say to her, ‘‘Let her read. She will attain greatness in society and in the Sufi Way, if God Most High wills. This strong motivation to acquire knowledge, even when she is just a young child, has to manifest itself somehow in the world. My sister will obtain what she desires, with God’s permission.’’ In my father’s
zawiya
there were a number of Qur’an reciters who knew the Holy Book by heart and who were well known for their beautiful voices. I grew up loving to listen to the recitation of verses of the Wise Book and to hear the songs and rhymed poems that were composed by the Sufis of our Yashrutiyya Tariqa. In this way, I memorized many verses of the Qur’an as well as Sufi songs and poems, and I began to acquire a taste for the arts, poetry, and music in an age in which there were no radios, televisions, or tape recorders.

As I entered my adolescence, God granted me recovery from my asthma, from which I had suffered constantly for 10 years. However, because of my prolonged illness, I never regained a strong constitution and was in need of care and supervision for the rest of my life with respect to food, rest, and social activities. The doctors had advised for my benefi that we spend time

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in coastal and inland areas, and in lowlands and mountains so as to have a periodic change of climate. Therefore, we would journey each year in the spring and summer to the mountains of Palestine, Lebanon, and Damascus. We continued in this way until war broke out in western Libya, waged by the Italians who had first brought their troops into Beirut but were defeated by the Ottoman Turkish army. During this time, it was dangerous to remain near the coast. Everyone living in such areas was anxious, especially in the city of Acre, which was still a fortified town of military importance. Many of the inhabitants of the city left to live in nearby villages and mountain areas, fearing an attack by the Italians. After passing a few weeks with our family in fear and apprehension, we decided that there was no alternative but to follow the course of the other citizens of Acre. We asked leave of my brother Ibrahim, and then went with my mother, my sister Maryam, and my cousins Anisa and ‘Abda to the
zawiya
in the mountain village of Tarshiha, 24 kilometers northeast of Acre. It was cold up in the mountains and the village sometimes even had snow in the winter. When we went there it was the beginning of March, and we traveled over a rough, unpaved road. We stayed in Tarshiha for three months and during this period my health became worse and I suffered a relapse because of the cold weather. Added to this was the fact that I did not like living in this village, for I had too many fond memories of spending the summer months there with my father, and receiving huge groups of visitors from various parts of Syria who came to seek his counsel. Were it not for the Italian war (that is, World War I), which forced me to stay there for three months, I would have preferred to go to the mountains of Lebanon.

Whenever we went on our seasonal trips, my father’s disciples would welcome us with joy and celebration and show great affection toward us. This was a reminder to us that they remained devoted and full of love for my father, adhering to his teachings and directions in spite of his passing away to the next world. Throughout our lives our mother never forbade us anything that gave us pleasure, provided it was in conformity with the Noble Path of the Sufi order and the accomplishment of God’s commands. We were, may God be praised, objects of trust, esteem, and respect for whomever we met, whether they were disciples of my father or acquaintances from outside the Yashrutiyya order.

Life in Acre was unsettled after the establishment of the ‘‘Nation of Unity and Progress’’ in Turkey.
8
I used to spend a few weeks at a time in Acre and then go to Haifa, alternating between the two. In the spring we often went to Sidon in Lebanon or Damascus, or took an excursion in Palestine. People in our country had joined forces four months before the declaration of war by the Ottoman government on the Allies in 1914. At that time, I was suffering from gastric fever, so my mother decided that we should stay in Damascus for the duration of the war. My mother and sisters waited for me to recover, and when I had partially overcome my sickness but was still feeling weak,

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we prepared to leave Acre. However, we could not fi any carriage or animals to take us to the train station, which lay outside of Acre, because the Ottoman army had taken possession of all means of transportation in the region. I was still too weak to go by foot from our house in the old city to the train station, so my cousin Sidi Hasan carried me there in his arms. We were very sad to leave the city that housed the remains of my father. However, at that time we did not think that we would be kept away for long, and hoped that we would surely be able to return to our beloved city one day. My mother, my sister Maryam, and my cousin Anisa traveled with me, while my brother Ibrahim remained in Acre with his family, along with my cousin Sidi Hasan.

The war caused poverty, hunger, destruction, disease, and the death of multitudes of people. Even though in World War I our country did not become very involved with the armies engaged in battle, our people suffered deeply from the hardships that resulted from it. The Arab regions of Syria were swept by a wave of typhoid fever at that time, and I remember during my stay in Damascus that there was severe hunger that grew worse every day, especially during the last two years of the war. It became a common sight to see men starve and die in the streets, and whenever we went out of the house we saw men, women, and children in distress crying, ‘‘We are hungry! We are hungry!’’

While I was in Damascus in my youth, I would receive scholars, doctors of the law, and learned men of that city, and during the war, others who had fled from Acre to Damascus. When I met with them I wore the complete veil according to the Shari‘a. My presence in Damascus during that period, and my freedom in the realm of the law and the arts, afforded me a precious opportunity. Because I had become acquainted with many of the learned men of that time, I was able to broaden my understanding and deepen my knowledge of diverse subjects. I developed a strong and independent person- ality that has endured throughout my life. It was my great good fortune to be able to take advantage of the opportunity to live in Damascus, for it was in those days an important center of Islamic scholarship.