Haji Jinn

An Arab Steps Story

Bashik stood on the boiling sand with a grin on his face. Excitement like a little ball bounced in his head. He wrapped a white shawl around him, exposing his right hand. Three humans—drenched in sweat—approached him. His smile faded as they told him they were the last survivors of the Hajj caravan he had waited for.

“But there’s another caravan,” said the old Shiekh Ghazali.

“But we can only catch it if we take the shortcut from this valley,” said the 20-year-old Haris. His sleek moustache reminded him of his late brother.

“This valley is not safe to travel,” said Bashik.

“But safe for a Jinn, yes?” said Ghazali.

His eyes widened. “How do you know?”

“I know many things.”

“Will you help us or not?” said the young Hinda with black as night hair and a look that stung like a cactus.

“This is my first Hajj. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

He waved them to follow him. The red sand kissed his feet, and his heart became heavy. He never dreamed of ever leaving his home. Its sand had become wet with the blood and sweat he sacrificed for it.

“We will need some food and water for the journey,” said Ghazali.

“Yes, of course.”

Bashik’s friend Musylima waved from the distance. “Hey, you came back pretty quick. How was the journey?”

Bashik chuckled.

“Who are these?”

“Umm, these are just some fellows Jinns…who, uh…”

“Who wishes to accompany him on his journey,” said Ghazali.

“Yes! That was exactly what I was going to say.”

Musylima laughed. “So, you collected more delusionals like you.” He patted Bashik on the back. “Good for you, Jinn.”

Musylima walked away, but Hari's eyes locked on him.

“He means well,” said Bashik.

“He looks familiar.”

“What was your name again?”

“Haris.”

“Bin?”

“Haris bin Zaid.”

“As in Zaid ul Haq.”

“How do you know?”

“No reason.”

The Spring of the Great Mumin gushed forth into four cascading lakes. Jinns of every kind gathered around. But Bashik’s eyes stuck on the Dragon drinking water from the top floor. Her white-as-snow feathers contrasted with his black skin. Her golden mane flew in the wind.

Hinda lowered her bottle, but a female Jinn caught her hand. Her golden battoulah vibrated as she said, “What are you doing, girl? Don’t you know giving water to Bashik is forbidden.”

“They are not with me!” said Bashik.

The woman jerked at him. “I meant no disrespect, but you know the Chief’s orders.” Every eye turned toward them.

“I know him as well as his orders. These are weary travellers. Here to collect some water for their journey.” Everyone frowned at the female Jinn and she jogged away to save the little respect she had left.

“For how many days have you not drunk?” said Ghazali.

“For a month. But it doesn’t matter.”

“How are you still alive?” said Haris.

“I suggest you hurry up. The sooner we are out of here, the better.” He glanced at the dragon and hoped she didn’t look down.

“Why are you punishing yourself, Bashik?” asked Ghazali.

“My people still have respect for me. I will give it back by honouring the Chief’s decision.”

“You think you have betrayed them, haven’t you?”

“My family has worshipped Mumin for generations. My parents and elder brother died in his name. I am the only one in my family to revert.”

“You have chosen the truth.”

“But how do I make understand that? What should I do? They are my family, and I betrayed them.”

“Nobody is saying that.”

“They are saying that. It’s all that matters.”

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“It is Allah that matters.”

“I have killed Muslims before.”

“That is all in the past.”

“Will they accept me, these Muslim brothers of mine?”

“You call them brothers, yet you talk about them like strangers.”

“I am not a good Muslim, Ghazali. I miss my prayers. I don’t even think I understand it all.”

“These are baseless doubts.” He grabbed his shoulder. “Give your family some time. They will understand.”

He nodded and they travelled to the inn.

“Why here?” said Haris.

“As you may have noticed, my people don’t exactly approve of my religion.”

“They stopped trade with you,” said Sheikh.

Bashik eyes lit up like when one meets his family. “Yes.”

Sheikh nodded. “I have been to many places. You are not alone in this, brother.”

He smiled, nodded and got up “This restaurant's owner is my friend. He buys food for me. I'm going to get some”. He leaned close. “Just don’t talk. They are listening”. A couple of eyes turned toward them. He went behind a counter, and Musaylima sat on their table. Haris made a fist but Hinda caught his hand.

Bashik went to the storage room and began searching for the stared bags among the hundreds stacked on each other.

“Brother,” his sister said from behind. He turned back, and the dragon’s golden eye looked inside from a window. The dragon shrank, flew in and turned into a Jinn. She covered her golden hair with a blue veil. Her snow-white eyes glimmered in the light.

“Aisha,” he said.

“Those weary travellers, they are humans, aren’t they?”

“One doesn’t have to be a Jinn to be a traveller.”

“But one has to be in this valley!”

“What kind of kindness is this? That only extends to those we like.”

“You know the amount of trouble you will get into if the Chief hears of this. He will have you beheaded.”

“Not if you tell him.”

“Tell him? He already knows. You have been coursing them around the town.”

“What do you want, Aisha?”

“Brother, renounce this faith.”

“What? No.”

“Not in your heart. Just publicly, and please, don’t go on this stupid journey.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“You're going to travel hundreds of kilometres to do what? Circle around a black box?”

“How dare you!”

“You can never be like them. They will never accept you.”

“That is not true.”

“That boy is an exact image of his father. I witnessed it myself as his Zaid butchered our parents. That’s the truth.”

“Then our brother killed him.”

“But then his uncle killed our brother.”

“Musylima killed his uncle. Tell me, Aisha. How much blood do you want? When will you be satisfied?”

“And are you?”

“I’m what?”

“Satisfied?”

He winced his eyes. “It is forbidden for one Muslim to kill another.”

“But it's completely okay to kill a Jinn, huh?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So, you won’t stop.”

“No.”

The door burst open, and three guards laden in red chainmail armour stormed in.

“You told them!” said Bashik.

“They will only keep you until you get your head straight. The Chief promised me.”

“You know, sister, the only reason you killed Zaid is because I cleared the path.”

He picked the bag with the black star.

“Brother, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

He charged at the guards and threw them away. Bashik ran from the counter. “Run!”

Haris punched Musylima so hard that he fell like a log. Hinda grabbed his hand, and they ran toward the exit. Bashik turned into a dragon and followed them in the air.

“Brother, stop!” said Aisha.

Bashik winced his eyes and opened his mouth. A storm of fire burst out and lit a wall of fire in front of the Jinns. His people looked with a look of disgust as if he was a murderer. They will understand in time, I hope. Before he finished his thought, a sting on his tail turned into pain that engulfed his whole body like an erupting volcano. He fell and shook the ground. The three of them ran faster and faster as he headed straight for them. But he turned back and fell before them like a wounded animal. They picked him up and dragged him along.

“No, wait, wait.” He gave them his bag. “Take this, and go. I will only slow you down.”

“But—”

“Go!”

They ran toward the exit, but the people surrounded them. Bashik didn’t bear to look up, for we feared to face them. Musylima picked him by the throat, and he stared into his weary eyes.

“Does he deserve death!”

Some cheered while others looked in horror.

“Musylima! Put him down.” A fifteen-foot Jinn walked out of the crowd. He wore a green turban with an emerald in its centre. Its long red thobe dragged against the ground. Musylime dropped Bashik, and he fell on his knees.

“Chief,” he whispered.

“Bashik, are you alright?”

“No.”

“You betrayed us.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“You have brought enemies into our valley.”

“We were just leaving.”

“We?”

Haris walked closer and picked me up. Bashik finally faced the Chief. His face curved into an eternal frown.

“I wish to leave with them. To make my pilgrimage.”

“You have rejected our god and become a slave to theirs.”

“I have rejected no one. I still worship the same god who created you and me.”

“Is this your final decision?”

“Yes.”

“Leave then.”

Bashik jerked Haris off. “What do you mean?”

“Leave. Isn’t that what you want?”

He sharpened his eyes but turned around. He took a few steps until Chief said, “But you won’t be able to come back.”

He slowly turned around and grabbed the Chief’s shirt. Everyone ran toward him, but the Chief waved them to stop.

“I have spilt blood for this soil,” said Bashik. “You cannot banish me!”

“And that’s why your head is not lying on the floor.”

His eyes became numb. “You can’t do this to me.”

His eyes snapped from one to another until they seattled his sister. “Aisha, look what he….” She turned her face away as if she didn’t even know him. “Aisha….” Everywhere he looked, people turned away from him like a traitor. “I am not a traitor!” he cried. “I’m not….” Tears flooded his face.

“Brother,” Aisha walked near him. “You can still stop. Renounce this faith. They will never accept you. You will never be them.”

“I don’t need their acceptance. I only need you, my little sister.”

“Then turn away.”

He stared into her numb eyes. Her tears muddled her golden suns. He took one last look to memorize all the details. The tiny black spot on the middle of her forehead. How her ears pointed up and delicate as silk. How she smiled, and most importantly, how she looked at him like one sees her brother.

“It was never about acceptance. It's about the truth.”

Aisha gasped and stepped back.

Ghazali embraced him, and they limped toward the exit. The sunlight blinded him as he left his valley forever.