Читать книгу Mustafa's Last Well - Tony Preedy - Страница 7

Chapter 1

It is 1207 Hijri: AD 1776

The year in which America declares independence from Britain

Within seconds of the drum beat that proclaimed the start of the race, the small boy had fallen amongst the trampling feet of the pursuing camels. The child now lay whimpering motionless on the ground, surrounded by a cloud of dust. The camels that had been behind him had now passed by.

Mustafa al-Wyly, the 17-year-old son of a widowed date farmer, had accompanied his friend Issa, the crippled son of the local Imam, to the camel race. Mustafa’s father supplemented their meagre income from the date farm by divining for water when a well was required. This was an activity that Mustafa had been encouraged to take over, as the old man was becoming infirm. He had proved to be particularly adept at finding water but was not so enthusiastic when it became necessary to follow this up by digging the wells.

Today, Mustafa and Issa had joined the men who came in from their desert camps, as the camel race was a good excuse to avoid such work. Minutes before, as the owners gave their final encouragement and instructions to the children who were strapped behind their camel’s humps, a man of the al-Jaboo had removed a knife from his robe. Unseen in the excitement, he deftly wielded his knife to weaken the harness of the favourite’s jockey, who now lay on the ground before Mustafa. Mustafa ran towards the child and, as he would with an injured animal, moved his hands over the boy’s limbs. He detected only bruises; the soft broad footpads of the camels, and their natural instinct to avoid stepping on a living creature, had spared the child from broken bones. Unknown to Mustafa, the child had, like Issa, been lame since birth.

Mustafa and Issa had been friends since infancy, when Mustafa had first protected Issa from the taunts of older boys. Issa, had since birth, suffered from a weakness of his left leg which caused a conspicuous limp.

The child’s stunted growth had attracted him to the camel’s owner, who realised he could put the child to good use as a jockey because he was unlikely to put on weight as quickly as other small boys of his age.

Before the drumbeat, Mustafa and Issa had been arguing over which camel would win. Issa supported the light-coated favourite, imported from Somalia, from which the child had fallen, whilst Mustafa was loyal to the locally bred entry of his tribal leader. As his hands passed over the child’s lame left leg, Mustafa experienced a feeling of weakness, as though energy was leaving his body. The child, however, felt himself gently relaxing into unconsciousness. Those men who had supported the favourite had now lost interest in the outcome of the race, and with childlike curiosity gathered around Mustafa and the boy. No women were present, as they were not permitted to attend public gatherings. In this year, just as in medieval times, men assured them that their place was in their tent, even as many women of their faith of later generations would, even two centuries hence, be confined to their homes.

This was the crucial instant when the boy was healed of his disability. Neither healer nor patient had any understanding of how it had transpired. Two centuries later there would be those who claimed that it was an unconscious application of torsion wave energy. They would explain how the child’s DNA spiral became synchronised to the torsion wave field emanating from Mustafa’s DNA. As Mustafa was weakened by the energy imparted to the torsion field, the defective gene responsible for the child’s disability had been altered to replicate the corresponding gene in Mustafa’s DNA.

After several minutes, during which Mustafa silently prayed for assurance from the Almighty that he had done the child no harm, the child regained consciousness and started to clamber first onto all fours, and then to his feet, where he stood as erect as an athlete. After a quick conspiratorial smile directed at his saviour, the boy ran, for the first time in his short life, towards his angry, disappointed master.

The spectators, some now muttering to each other their suspicions of sorcery, backed away in fear for their souls. Others, who did not know him, convinced themselves that Mustafa must be a Jinn in disguise, and in defiance of custom raised their dish-dashes above their knees and ran away from the scene. They left only Issa to support his exhausted friend. Issa, otherwise lost for words after witnessing the healing spectacle, told Mustafa that his choice had won the race by a head, just in front of the al-Jaboo animal.

When the crowd dispersed, Issa, who had with other spectators, been watching Mustafa’s performance, asked, “What did you do to produce that cure?”

“Only Allah knows, for something went from my body that has made me feel weak,” he replied.

Mustafa slowly regained his strength as the friends departed for the farm, where they expected to find Mustafa’s elderly father waiting for news. The old man and his son lived there with no woman, for Mustafa’s mother had died after giving a son to his father in her thirteenth year.

“If only you could do that to me,” Issa lamented.

“I do not know, but there have been other times when I have felt that strange loss of my strength,” replied Mustafa, as he was thinking; “I will try it.”

When they reached the farm, they found no one there. Mustafa said, “Come and lie down here, and I will pretend you are the camel rider.”

Issa obeyed; he had confidence in his friend. He lay on the wicker sleeping frame that sat beneath the palm covered veranda at the front of the house, grinning.

“He is not treating the occasion seriously,” thought Mustafa, as he placed his hand on the lame leg and started to move it over the part that was weak. Immediately he felt the healing sensation start to build. “Do you feel anything yet?” Mustafa asked. Issa was about to say no, but then he felt a strange but pleasant sensation starting to strengthen in his leg. Issa relaxed. Mustafa held his hand steady, even though he continued to feel weakened as the energy transfer intensified. Issa started to become apprehensive, and would have stopped his friend, had he not suddenly lost consciousness. As he felt the healing sensation diminish, Mustafa watched his friend for a reaction, but had to wait several minutes before Issa opened his eyes.

Issa did not know where he was except that the sun was above and shining in his eyes. Then, in the shade of the palms, he saw the familiar beam of palm wood over the doorway to the farmhouse and remembered where he was. “How are you now?” asked Mustafa, concern in his voice.

“Let me get up, and we will see.” Issa swung his legs to place his feet on the floor and started to raise himself from the bed, realising with the utmost pleasure that he had been cured.

Issa departed excitedly to show his father what had happened, and Mustafa entered the house to join his own father. Within the house there was no sign of the old man.

A search amongst the date palms revieled his father’s body. He had died of a heart attack.

***

When Issa arrived home and met his father, the Imam, he showed him what Mustafa had done and told him how the young camel rider had also been healed. The Imam, shocked by these events, muttered a prayer, and told Issa to take him to Mustafa, but before they could set out, Mustafa came into their house to tell the Imam of his father’s death.

After giving condolences to Mustafa and agreeing to arrange for the burial of his father, the Imam became serious. His reaction was ambivalent; gratitude on one hand, whilst on the other hand he was concerned that Mustafa had been blasphemous; had not Allah punished himself or his son for some evil in a past life? The Imam pressured Mustafa to refrain from future attempts to heal. He told of Jesus, the man whose followers claimed him to be the son of Allah, who came six centuries before Allah’s messenger, the prophet Mohamed. Jesus possessed similar powers, for which he was crucified by the Romans who occupied the land. Later, he was worshipped by the Christians in Europe, the same tribes who sent crusaders to recapture the lands conquered by the followers of Mohamed, and burned alive, as witches, all those who emulated Jesus.

The Imam warned, “By continuing to defy the will of Allah, by healing those He had caused to suffer, Mustafa, unless you are the Mahdi, sent by Allah, and that is most unlikely, you risk death for blasphemy at the hands of religious zealots.” Mustafa was visibly frightened by these words. “Promise me you will never attempt such healing again, or I will not be able to protect you from those who would have you killed.” Mustafa agreed.

***

From that time Mustafa confined his use of torsion wave energy (not that he knew anything of this “science”) to his other skill, locating underground sources of water. It was, he knew, only his ability to provide this vital service that had protected him from the Islamic extremists, who needed minimal justification to proclaim a fatwa for his death. To dispel any doubts, as soon as his father had been buried, he crudely engraved the beam above the entrance to his house with a sign declaring “water finding” to be his only business.