It Takes a Village

"Friday prayer starts soon, what on earth are you doing?"

"Give me a second! Just let me... There!"

My mother and two of her sisters gasped like this was the first time they'd ever seen me.

"You look so good! Alhamdulillah!"

The three of them crowded me, murmuring agreement.

I groaned, trying to hide the smile deep down.

The clothing I was wearing wasn't really that special.

It was just a plain white thobe, a white kufi hat, and some sandals. But the way they hyped me up made me feel like I could take on the world.

"Khadija! Where did you get this?" Auntie Maryam said, feeling the fabric.

My mother grinned. "Didn't I tell you to come with me and Muhammad to the caravan when it came by?"

Auntie Zainab, the youngest of the three, got close and said, "When they get like this, you know they're never going to stop! You might as well go."

As soon as the words left her mouth, I was off. I left my house and went down the street filled with similarly made mud and stone houses.

I joined the small crowd and weaved my way through.

"Abbas! Is that you?" I heard someone yell from behind me.

I turned around and spotted a grinning boy, the same age and size as me. His thobe was white, but faded by the sand and by time. However, his smile was just as bright as my thobe.

"Anas?"

"As-salamu alaykum!"

"Wa-ʿalaykumu salām, my brother! You look like one of the kings!"

"Hahaha! You're too kind, too kind!"

We walked together, all the way to the masjid, grinning and laughing like kids do, blissfully unaware of the world.

We got there just as the athan was about to be called out.

Sitting down on the palm-tree-laden ground, I got comfortable.

"There's a lot more soldiers than there were last week," Anas muttered in my ear.

"Yeah."

I scanned the crowd and took note of the mass of men, most of them in full military uniform. The women and girls sat in a separate section separated by a partition of palm leaves.

A man with a baby found his way to us. He had a beard large enough for the baby to grip with two hands, which it was doing.

"Dad!"

"You look great, son! I hope your mother didn't pamper you too much," he said, grinning.

"You knew she would, that's why you left early!"

"Did I? Ibrahim told me," he said, gesturing at the baby, "that he wanted to be a good Muslim and be early! Didn't you?"

He started tickling the baby, and Ibrahim started laughing.

"He can't even spea—"

The muezzin started the athan, calling all who weren't here to come.

Dad sat beside me, Ibrahim still in his arms.

Imam Ibn Battuta got on the pulpit and started the khutbah.

After doing the traditional introduction, he got to the point.

"In these times of war and stress, people usually feel the effects monetarily. Allah be good, we have been spared that fate, at least for now. However! For the last two years, I and some others have been gathering money from you people."

He paused.

"Why? This religion of ours is built on learning! People sell everything they own just for a chance to sit in one of the circles of Medina or Mecca! The first verse ever handed down to our Prophet was what? Read!"

"So..."

He suddenly snapped his head to face us.

"Anas! Abbas! Get up here!"

Anas turned to me with a stunned expression on his face.

"What did you do?" he whispered.

"What did I do? What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

We both slowly stood, like horses learning to walk for the first time, and made our way to the front.

"Relax, you're not in trouble, kids."

He positioned us to face the crowd and put his hands on each of our shoulders.

"When I was a child, I had the luck of traveling the world and learning things as I went. I wish to grant you two the same opportunity. We've gathered more than enough money for the two of you, so if you want to study in some far-away land and then travel some, do that. If you want to just travel, do that!

"But remember two things: Islam and this village. Come back, okay? You boys are seventeen years old. Don't be fools."

"Make us proud!" somebody yelled from the back.

The crowd erupted in cheers and roars, both from the men's and the women's sections.

Even the soldiers, who probably didn't even know who we were, were clapping.

Tears formed in my eyes, and I hugged the Imam.

"I'll get it for you later. It's hidden in my house," Imam Ibn Battuta said. "You could probably get it yourselves. You know where it's hidden. Now go sit down."

Anas was practically flying on the way back to our seats.

"Where are you going to go? I always wanted to go on Hajj..."

I sat down, still processing what I'd just been told.

My dad patted my shoulder.

"Did you know about this?"

He turned to me and nodded.

"They picked you, and I recommended Anas. Learn loads, okay?"

"Alright."

I turned back to the Imam, who had just started speaking.

"My people, even if you don't travel, learning is still a must. Why, even Muhammad—"

"Fire!"

Something crashed into the building, sending mud, clay, and stone down on us.

Pandemonium ensued as people scrambled, still stunned.

My dad dragged me underneath him as I tried to grab Anas. I almost slid to him as if I was covered in goo.

"Dad! Anas! I need to get—"

"Abbas."

"He's not safe, I need to—"

"Abbas! Abbas... look at him."

I raised my eyes for the first time and looked.

Where Anas was, a rock stood in his place. And underneath, blood came forth.

I looked at my hand, the hand that grabbed his. In fact, it was still there. Interlocked with mine. The rest of him... was under the rock.

I stared at him.

At the others screaming.

And I joined in.

The last thing I saw was the thobe my mother gave me, slowly turning red.

-- -- --

"Make sure everyone is dead!" an orderly voice yelled.

"Sir, do you want me to give the order to destroy the village?"

"No. No, I want you to tell them not to touch a thing. Leave it as a reminder not to mess with us."

"Sir."

They stood somewhere around me, casually talking about... something.

Feeling the nagging need to sleep, I let myself go.

Though I could've sworn I had something to do?

Uhh... it's okay. I'll worry about it later.

A long time later, a hand emerged.

Fighting my way out, I emerged with Ibrahim in my arms.

I desperately laid him down and checked him for life.

Even though he was covered in blood, there weren't any cuts on him.

"Come on, come on!"

Not knowing what to do, I slapped him.

"Wake up!"

His eyes blazed open, and he started crying.

"Alhamdulillah."

I picked him up and hugged him.

At least I wasn't alone.

-- -- --

A month later, I was ready to go.

I stood and stared at the rows and rows of graves that I had dug.

It was early morning, so early that it wasn't even time for morning prayer.

Each of which was labeled with a tombstone, and a name, age, or small tidbit if I knew them.

The baby stared at me from its sling.

"Lucky you. At least you get to relax while I do this."

I sighed and tossed the shovel I had used.

"Hah, hah."

I stared at the necropolis I had become the mayor of.

And I felt tears well up.

I gathered up everything of value and put it on the Imam's camel, Malik.

Going inside, I went to his living room rug and pulled it back.

It was a stupid hiding spot, and it had not taken me long to find it once I knew of its existence.

When I found it, he sheepishly shrugged and said, "If you didn't know I had one, you never would've found it."

"What are you talking about? Who is dumb enough to build such a—"

"Hey! Don't disrespect my little brother! He's so smart, he teaches in Cordoba!"

"Not smart enough to build a better hiding place though."

"Hahaha! I suppose!"

I took out the hole's only content: two pouches.

Opening one, I gasped.

Gold stared back at me, gleaming.

But also tainted with their blood.

I took them and tied them to my waistband next to my pouch of food.

I had taken all of the animals to the nearest village and sold them, after letting them know what had happened.

They thanked me for the warning and said they would be leaving, and invited me to come along.

I knew them somewhat, and was inclined to accept their invitation.

But with this landmine, I don't know...

It might be in my best interest to go solo until I reach Cairo.

Walking outside, I got on Malik and got cozy, surrounded by my supplies.

I tapped Ibrahim's head and said, "Let's be off."

Malik slowly went through the town, my town for the last time.

My school, my home, the little street we used to race down.

All of it was deserted.

Once I got a bit outside town, I turned and looked.

"Goodbye."