“Don’t be an ass, Hyacinth,” said Nasreen. Then, realizing the impropriety of the term, she added, with a polite swish of her tail, “I mean no disrespect to Ketifa, of course. But the thing is impossible; the names of God are unknown to us (except the One, of course), so how can she recite them?”
The mare, typically innocent, had also offended Hyacinth, whose father was a donkey. But Hyacinth, who like all good mules exercised temperance, and who was concerned most of all by the fear that Ketifa’s secret doowa constituted a blasphemy, ignored the insult.
“I tell you, it is true. She is in her stall now, reciting under her breath. She has not been the same since the master’s maghrib three days ago.”
[spoiler]Nasreen, who belonged to the merchant whose mansion sat on a cliff outside the village, was nonetheless often borrowed by the imam, and as she was customarily stabled in the village, this happened especially when the imam visited the merchant, which was often. But three days ago a different person had visited the merchant around the time of his evening prayer; this was a mystic and theoretician by the name of Attar. Ketifa, the donkey, had carried the traveler’s effects.
“Well,” said Nasreen, sighing, “there can be no harm in going to see her. But you know how she is once she has got an idea behind her eyes. And you know the master himself is to ride me to the conference at his mansion tomorrow. I had counted on getting my beauty rest.”
They found Ketifa lying on a bed of straw with her nose to the ground, her eyes closed, and her ears lying back with concentration. She pretended not to hear their approach, but continued reciting a litany under her breath: “Ar-Rahman. (The Exceedingly Beneficent.) Al-Latif. (The Gentle.) As-Sukkar. (Sugar.) Al-Hashiish. (Hay.)” These four names she invoked again and again, apparently having no greater store.
“Do you see?” said Hyacinth.
“What is this?” said Nasreen to Ketifa. “Why do you pronounce these names?”
The donkey opened her eyes. “Alhamdulillah,” she concluded. “The wise one said that his heart rejoices who remembers God. I am pronouncing the names of God.”
Nasreen gave a short whinny and tossed her head. “Wise one? Do you mean the Man from Nishapur? I thought he was a bit dotty, myself.”
“He’s not!” said Ketifa, earnestly. “He is the most learned master of our age, a darvesh, they say, and he practices the esoteric keramat of Tay al-Makan, whereby he travels from place to place without moving, making the earth move beneath his feet.”
“He had no such art, or why did he ride my back to the mansion three days ago?” Nasreen laughed. (You have probably heard a horse laugh, but you would not recognize it.)
Ketifa looked rather upset; she did not think her darvesh the least bit risible. Hyacinth tried to be kinder, thinking of the donkey’s gentle but perhaps gullible soul. “And is it from the wise one that you had these names of God?” she said. “Only I am not sure that sugar is one of them. It does not sound right to me. Nor hashish, which is grass, but which I know the Men say also of another kind of grass that I have never tasted. Ketifa, do you not think this is unwise?”
“I learned a great deal from him,” said Ketifa, “though I could only listen through an open window near the stable. He spoke of many things that it is hard to think about, so I believe he must be of great intellect. He also spoke many figures which I am sure were not meant to be literal, but which are doubtless instructive. Thirty birds became one bird, and that bird became God; but first they had to journey over seven valleys before they could arrive at that annihilation.
“Then he recited suras having to do with the keramats, miraculous gifts to God’s chosen. There were many that I have forgotten, but one was the Tay al-Makan, the bending of place by which journeys may be compressed, God willing. I was most interested in that because it seemed to me that if the mystic’s birds had possessed this keramat, they could have moved the valleys under them and arrived sooner. One of the valleys was called Bewilderment, and the last was Death, which I would be most eager to pass over.
“But, most importantly, Attar said that keramats are only given to those who practice proper dikhr, the remembering of God. That is why I am reciting the names. And that is why, if ever I forget a proper invocation, I also say May God guide me to do better next time. The wise one said this is very important.”
Nasreen turned to Hyacinth. “I told you, Hyacinth. There is nothing we can do here. Ketifa will persist until she has acquired this keramat, or else been blasted by God for her impudence. The whole thing will end in disaster either way.” And she turned and wandered back to her stall.
“You believe me, don’t you?” Ketifa said when Nasreen had gone.
“I believe what you have said about this wise man,” said Hyacinth. “But I do not think it is good for you to listen to him too much; his knowledge is made for Man creatures and not for mules and donkeys. At least do not keep yourself awake tonight remembering God. Remember that we are to carry the provisions up the hill tomorrow.”
“You’ll see,” said Ketifa. “I will be the first donkey to receive a keramat.” And she settled back on her straw and resumed her devotions.
The following morning, the three met again in the company which was to proceed to the merchant’s mansion. The merchant himself was overseeing the loading of provisions, so Nasreen was free to join Hyacinth and Ketifa by the carts.
Ketifa had already been harnessed to hers. The house of Ibrahim al-Rashid was very high among the cliffs; the road to it was long and hard, and consequently he wished to make only one journey, so the cart was loaded very heavily. But Ketifa did not complain. She was in a voluble mood, having just come from a hut in the stables over which a thin blue mist still lingered.
“I have made a discovery!” she said. “Some of the stable-Men were talking as they fixed my harness. They had a strong-smelling piece of hay that they passed between one another, and they used that word hashish several times. I am more convinced than ever that this is truly one of the names of God, for as they spoke it such a great spiritual feeling came over me. It was as though I stood atop the stables and could see everything.”
“Ah,” said Hyacinth. “But that was only part of your invocation. If only there were a sugar that produced similarly spiritual feelings.”
Nasreen looked uncomfortable. “These are not good things for a donkey to say. If you really stood atop the stables, you would fall.”
“I feel I have been blessed,” said Ketifa. “Perhaps, if I tried, God would permit me to use the Tay al-Makan.”
By midmorning all was ready. The mules and donkeys stood uncertainly with their carts on the hot sand, and the merchant and a few other men of consequence sat upon their horses. As the caravan began to move, from a nearby cypress, a hoopoe called.
Things did not go smoothly. Halfway up the hill, a donkey in the caravan stumbled and collapsed, and could not be persuaded to resume the road, not even after a vigorous beating. Its load, therefore, after an impressive stream of imprecations from its driver, was redistributed among the remaining carts. Ketifa seemed to get the worst of it, but she did not complain. “If necessary I will use the Tay al-Makan,” she said. “The earth will proceed under me and the journey will be accomplished.”
But as they moved on a strange thing began to happen. Hyacinth noticed it first and nudged Nasreen with her nose, who by good fortune was riding next to her cart. Every so often as her wagon bounced along uneven stones, all of Ketifa’s hooves would leave the ground, just for a moment. In parts where the road was nearly level, she would continue on in this fashion for a few feet before resuming the earth. As these episodes became more frequent, Ketifa began to anticipate them, and gave a small leap before, prolonging the duration of flight.
“I feel it!” said Ketifa, breathing fast with her ears straight back. “The earth moves, Hyacinth, it moves beneath me!”
Nasreen whinnied back, alarmed: “Ketifa, it is only your cart! The load has been unbalanced, and if you are not careful, you will tip up and fall off the side.”
Within the twinkling of an eye, Ketifa had given another little jump, and this one was at last too high. The rear of the cart descended slowly, inevitably, until it touched the ground, and Ketifa was lifted up by her harness. She continued to move her hoofs in the air, and her eyes were closed.
The merchant, seeing the donkey’s distress, leapt from Nasreen’s back with a curse and climbed onto Ketifa’s cart. As he shouted for his servants to again redistribute the packages, he leaned forward and struck Ketifa a sharp blow with a switch.
This proved to be a mistake. When he leaned the cart slowly righted itself; and when Katifa’s hooves touched earth she began pulling again as she’d been taught to do for so many years in response to pain. Now, the road ran often along the edge of a sheer cliff. In this particular place, it ran downhill some several hundred meters, leading into a sharp left-hand curve beyond which was a drop of two hundred feet; beyond this turn, the road to the left resumed climbing.
It was down this stretch that Ketifa now plunged, the heavy cart gaining speed every moment though the donkey was again spending a great deal of time with all four hooves in the air. Nasreen, riderless, charged after her. Hyacinth, with her own cart, was forced to stay behind.
“I shall become like a bird,” Ketifa called to Nasreen. “I think I see a valley approaching even now.”
“Stop, you foolish ass!” whinnied Nasreen. “Put your hooves on the land and stop, or you’ll be thirty birds when you reach the bottom!”
In the next instant two things happened. The first was that Nasreen made a last desperate gallop and heaved herself bodily into the path of the donkey. The second was that the right wheel of the cart, leaving the road, struck a large rock. Ketifa crashed into Nasreen and bore both of them down in a hoof-over-head tumble. The harness broke, and the cart – wheels, goods, merchant, and all – flipped, separated, briefly re-united with a crunch, and transported itself off the mountainside.
Ketifa and Nasreen presently stood up, shaken, bruised, and torn by the stones in a few places, but otherwise unhurt. The shock and pain restored the donkey’s senses to her, and with appropriate humiliation she looked over the edge of the cliff.
“I think I have made a theological mistake. The finer points of the Way eluded me. May God guide me to do better next time.”
[/spoiler]