With regard to certain aspects of Islam and Arabia, I am taking great liberties with names, religious conduct, and cultural
aspects. Much of this story is a work of fiction and it is being written from the point of view of the tale taking place during the
first foundations of Islam, when the Prophet Muhammad's teachings were liberal with regard to women. Conduct depicted in
this chapter would not necessarily take place within the structure of modern Islam. Only when I list verifiable facts on the
cover page, should any information in this story be taken literally. If anyone is interested in learning more about Islamic
religion, Morocco or the Middle East, I would highly encourage you to visit your local library!
Definitions:
* Abu Al-Nasr al-Farabi (870-950) = Born of Persian decent near Farabi in Turkistan in 870 C.E. Abu al-Farabi was a son
of a general. Abu al-Farabi is known in history not only as one of the first well known Islamic physicians, but also as a
philosopher, logician, sociologist, mathematician, scientist and musician and was fluent in several languages. He was best
known as the "Second Teacher," with Aristotle being the first. His twenty-eight books on medicine contained all of his
accumulative knowledge of Arabic medical knowledge pertaining to disease such as smallpox and chickenpox as well as the
psychological effects of illness on the patient. Additionally, surgical and hygienic research was included in his vast volumes of
books. His books were later translated into Latin during Charles I of Anjou reign and were repeatedly printed from 1488 to
the present. Owing to his vast knowledge and education, Abu al-Farabi traveled throughout Saudi Arabia, parts of Egypt
and Persia while under the employment of various sultans and educational institutions. His contribution is considered a great
influence in the development of science and medicine. Because of this, his portrait still hangs on the walls of the Faculty of
Medicine at the University of Paris, France. Al-Farabi died a bachelor in Damascus in 950 C.E.
* Hashish = the most potent grade of cannabis, is made from resin extracted from the flower clusters and top leaves of the
marijuana plant. Like marijuana, hashish is usually smoked or eaten. Hash oil is more potent than hashish and is an extract of
hashish. Hashish is intoxicating and can produce euphoria and other feelings similar to marijuana. Hashish was discovery by
Haider, a monk who lived between Nishabor and Ramah.
* Ramadan = A holiday observed in the Islamic religion which occurs during their lunar new year and lasts for 35 days. From
sunrise to sunset, believers fast and abstain from drinking, eating, luxuries, and partaking in sexual activities of any kind. The
day hours of fasting are used as a time for inner reflection, devotion to God, and self-control. It is believed that through
fasting and inner reflection, a measure of ascendancy is given one’s spiritual nature, which becomes a means of coming closer
to Allah. Ramadan is also a time of intensive worship, reading of the Qur’an, giving to charity, purifying one's behavior, and
doing good deeds.
* Shisha = a glass container that holds a mixture (tobacco or other substances) which is inhaled through tubes that extend
from the bottle.
* Sieve = A method of collecting the pollen from hashish. Once the pollem (not pollen) of the plant is dry, it is then run
through a metal mesh wire over and over again until all that remains is a very fine and pale yellow powder. The coarse plant
material that is left is called Kif. Although the pollen can be smoked, the taste and effects change once it is sieved. Sieving is
a common practice in the production of Moroccan hashish. The process of forming of the powder resin into bricks is a new
world invention.
Chapter Four
Gabrielle spent a better part of the morning tending to Zara. Once the head wound was sutured and bandaged and her
broken arm set, the healer gave a few instructions to Nadrah. Assured that the Moroccan woman was settled with the child
watching attentively over her, she left the cabin to offer her assistance in the aftermath of the battle.
The early morning sun beat down on the quiet carnage. As the heat from the sun increased, it caused a sickly sweet stench of
death to rise from the corpses of the slain. Not even the sea breeze could clean the smell lingering in the air. Worse, the buzz
and hum of thousands of flies covering the bodies were a constant reminder of the silence of death. By the time Gabrielle left
the captain’s cabin, the pirate ship had been pulled further out to sea, the bodies of the pirates left on their ship to be eaten by
the birds of prey. When she saw a black cloud of birds circling high above the now silent Pirate ship, she unconsciously
flinched as a shiver crossed her spine. Even after so many years in battle, the sight of such a bloodbath still upsets me,
the Greek woman thought as she turned her eyes away from the scene.
As Gabrielle climbed into the boat, she noticed the vivid colors of the tents on the shore. Once she was settled, Zuhair took
up the oars and began to row them toward the land. Gabrielle watched the ordered chaos ashore with amazement.
Unbeknownst to her, a triage had been set-up and the grim sorting of those who could be saved and those who could not
was proceeding. Anyone who was able to help was mobilized into groups. Some were sent to set-up camp, gather wood or
hunt in the dense forest, while others were dispatched to tend to the wounded until they could be taken into the healer’s tent.
Those of both Arab and Moroccan crews who had died were neatly tended to, their bodies tenderly cleaned and wrapped
tightly in individual cloths. With loving care, they were returned to the grounded Arabian ship to await their burial. Those
from both ships who were wounded were taken to a makeshift healer’s area. As she came to the shore, the healer noticed
grimly that somehow, none of the pirates had seemed to survive the fight. Part of her shuddered at this; another part accepted
it as no less than what the cutthroats deserved.
“Gabrielle,” a voice called to her as she stepped onto shore. “Please, Gabrielle,” Isa’s voice was soft and pleading, “It is
Rabeé, can you help him? P-Please? They want to… to let him die,” the young man’s words were filled with panic as he ran
to her.
The blonde healer took a moment to glance at him. She noticed that his young face, usually filled with life, was now weary
and full of misery. The creases around his brown eyes were more pronounced and his beard, usually neatly combed, was
now ragged since the morning battle. In an unconscious manner, he reached up and pushed back a light brown lock of his
sweat-drenched hair. Gabrielle noticed streaks of blood across his cheekbone and then saw much more blood that was not
his own smeared on his shirt.
“Who are they going to let die?” She asked, with disbelief.
Isa was sobbing now. His words were choked. “Rabeé, he is my…” he hesitated not knowing what to say, then went on in
a rush, “You know, he and I belong to each other… L-Like you and the captain do.”
Gabrielle felt herself blushing. “Yes, yes. Of course I’ll come,” she gulped and tried to smile reassuringly as her thoughts
spun. Like me and Zara? By the gods, does the whole crew think we’re a couple?
“Please, Gabrielle over here!” Isa begged, seeming not to notice her as he took her arm and pulled her to the beach.
The beach was once a beautiful spot with sun, white sand and blue water, but had now become a blood-soaked place of hell
on earth. As they moved, they were accompanied by the screams and moans of the mangled victims of battle. In almost
humorous contrast to the chaos and horror all around, the men were lined in neat rows with the wounded on one side and the
dying on the other. Within these bloody boundaries, men writhed and groaned in their pain, many begging for water or shade
from the sun. Others whispered prayers or silently lay there clutching their torn bodies. The coppery scent of blood and the
stench of the dead and dying filled the nose and mind.
As she followed the young man, Gabrielle noticed an older Arab man moving among the wounded. After inspecting each, he
would bark orders to his attendants and then move on to another injured man. When Isa and the blonde reached Rabeé, two
attendants were just beginning to pick him up to move to the side with the men who could not be saved. Isa shouted at them
in anger. The two men looked at him, then shrugged and moved down the line to pick up another man to take to the side of
the dying.
Afraid of what she would find, the Greek woman knelt beside Rabeé and began inspecting his wounds. The young man’s
breathing was shallow and his eyes were glazed with pain, but when he saw Isa, he attempted to smile. His friend knelt and
took his hand, holding it to his cheek. Meanwhile, Gabrielle found three wounds, but none seemed too serious. Then she
lifted his shirt and frowned as she saw a large blood-soaked bandage on his torso.
Meanwhile as if angered by her presence, the older Arab man turned and shouted something to her. Unable to understand his
dialect, she shrugged her shoulders as she continued to examine Rabeé. The older man bustled to her, stood over her in
silence, and his eyes seemed to scan her in an attempt to determine her origins. When he seemed to think of something, he
nodded, then spoke to her in flawless Greek, “My child, I have already seen that one, there is nothing that can be done for
him!”
