Salaam

I'm in uni today deleting old files and backing up what's important and I've come across something I wrote a couple of months back.

Remember that story about a rich sheikh torturing some dude who crossed him in business? When I read about it I felt sick and so that day I started to write a story...it was an interesting story and one that didn't get finished. But the prose was smooth and for that reason I didn't want to delete it. So here it is, me getting annoyed with injustice and subsequently getting creative:

Chapter 1

Qadi Abu Sulaiman had heard the case and he felt disgusted. The merchant had been tortured to death because he had failed to make a large enough profit on the sheikh’s stock. The merchant of course was unable to provide evidence and any witnesses had either been bought or suitably threatened.

Everyone knew though, everyone had seen the photos on the internet, in which the sheikh’s face was clearly discernable, or heard about the stories which the sheikh had taken great pride in circulating. There wasn’t a man in the courtroom who didn’t know that Sheikh Zaid al Ghutti was guilty, and there wasn’t a man, Qadi Sulaiman mused, who would say as much to his face.

Qadi Abu Sulaiman knew what would happen. The gluttonous sheikh had been unable to keep his dirty laundry hidden and so as not to provoke too much of an outrage, especially at this critical time, a trial had been fixed, as had the verdict and the punishment. No-one had the gall to say as much, but the outcome of the trial was known right up to the number of halalas that would be paid to the merchant’s family.

Abu Sulaiman took off his glasses and held his head in his hands for a few moments and then looked at the sombre sheikh, noting with irritation the cup of kahwa held in his hands, no doubt provided with great courtesy by the court’s own officials. The sheikh looked back, a portrait of innocence carefully fashioned upon his features betraying, perhaps, the merest hint of a confident smile. He is thinking that this trial was a little longer than normal and that I asked more questions than were strictly necessary. He is thinking now that he will not give so large a gift as he first intended, and will reprimand me for not according him his due respect. He will not think though, to withhold the gift. Qadi Sulaiman smiled inwardly. The riyals were practically already in his hands. One did not break with tradition.

He looked around at the gathered court and closed his eyes reverently to begin his address. “In the name of God,” One did not break with tradition. “The Most Gracious,” Justice was interpreted according to the culture of the people! “The Most…” To do otherwise, would surely be an injustice! “Merciful.” The lights suddenly went out.

Qadi Abu Sulaiman gripped his chest in fear and whimpered. It was not a superstitious fear, nor was its primary motivation piety. It was a fear of the very real pain that was raging in his chest and flaring up and down his left arm. The venerable Qadi Abu Sulaiman was having a heart attack.

As the court officials rushed desperately to the light switches, tripping over each other in their haste. Abu Sulaiman lay slumped at his desk, writhing in silent agony as a very private judgement gripped his heart. The officials were oblivious to him, though one or two did think to locate the sheikh and whisper reassurances to him that power outages were still frequent in this district. Eventually after flicking the light switches on and off to no avail, the officials ran to the back door and opened it.

There was a moment of blinding light as, the sun’s rays entered from the private courtyard and flooded the courtroom. Though relatively small compared to the courtroom, the room shone with strong illumination, and the officials breathed collective sighs of relief. The front doors were grand and very large, however, so was the angry mob of working class protesters stationed outside them. As light returned to the room, order began to reassert itself and Qadi Abu Sulaiman found the pain in his chest was gone. His chest in fact felt opened and the pool of light that bathed his office was positively heavenly. “Praise is God’s!” He exclaimed exuberantly, the terror of the dark forgotten. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be declaring his judgement on the case and without stopping to consider his words, he heard himself say, “God himself has declared justice to be of his lofty attributes and in his holy name I pronounce the justice that you sought to hide! Sheikh Zaid Al Ghutti, you are guilty of torture, murder and gross misconduct in your affairs with your business partner. You shall be executed; this is the judgement of the matter!”

Chapter 2

The bailiffs gasped. What did I just say? The officials stared horrified. One must not break with tradition! The Sheikh raised an eyebrow, amused at the unexpected twist. This more than anything else held the Qadi’s attention. He thinks he is a spectator watching a play. It does not involve ‘me’, he thinks. He thinks he is above the law, this is merely an entertaining plot twist for him and he wonders how I, not him, how I am going to get him out of this!

It was with some surprise that the Abu Sulaiman realised he was angry. He knew the reason was the man in front of him, who was quite literally guilty as sin. However, he was surprised that he felt anger at all. He had been a barrister for five years and this was already the third year of his unremarkable tenure as district judge. He thought he had become cold to the miscarriages of justice, by now. He though the double-speak of the letter of the law and its execution were more than second nature to him by now. He thought that assent of the riyal had become fixed in its heavenly station in his interpretation of justice. And yet his heart was on fire.

He stared at the sheikh, whose well groomed face which had seemed handsome to him a moment ago now struck him as the most hateful object on the face of the earth, and dared him to argue. He watched with growing gratification as the raised eye-brow slowly descended to a more humble position. Qadi Abu Sulaiman turned to the bailiffs and ordered, “Take him away for execution.”

The men didn’t move.

“I said take him away, for execution!”

Still the bailiffs did not take action. Some lowered their heads whilst others sought his eye pleadingly and he realised they were begging him to rescind the decision. Their eyes are trying to tell me what will happen to them, to their families. They are terrified. Their eyes tell me that I can not ask them to do this.

The sheikh looked from the immobile bailiffs to the Qadi and laughed, “Well this has all been very entertaining. However there is business I must attend to. Qadi Abu Sulaiman, I don’t know what to say. Perhaps you are not feeling well today, maybe tomorrow your mental faculties will be restored.” He turned to the Abu Sulaiman’s officials. “Go see to your master.” He ordered them and then rose to leave.

Abu Sulaiman watched dispassionately as his officials harkened to the sheikh’s orders and ran to him. He stood, towering over them from the raised platform and ignored them as he strode towards the sheikh. The officials caught like birds between the whims of two terrifying falcons, parted to let him pass.

The sheikh had almost reached the door when he felt a hand land on the back of his neck! He stiffened and turned around eyes blazing only to find the look returned from the purposeful face of Qadi Abu Sulaiman! Sheikh Zaid Al Ghutti in keeping with the fashion of the times had only a very small beard, however it proved to be long enough as the Qadi grabbed hold of it with his fist and pulled powerfully, dragging the sheikh after him as he advanced back through the courtroom and out into the private courtyard. As he passed the bailiffs, he took the man’s pistol from his holster.

The Qadi dragged him into the middle of the small garden and threw to the ground, before pulling the weapon up to point directly at the sheikh’s forehead. For the first time since he was a child, the sheikh’s eyes widened in fear and then he heard the Qadi intone “This is the judgement of the case.” The last sound he heard was the bang of pistol. Then he heard no more.

The officials watched in fear and amazement as the dead sheikh collapsed to the floor and blood began to pool from the hole in his forehead. Abu Sulaiman had no time for them; he turned to the bailiffs and spoke, “Open the court’s doors! Long have the people prayed for justice! Open the doors and let them see.”

Chapter 3