Saturday 11 April 2003
This story is dedicated to Fad who was griping about the state of the world recently. I think she is suffering from Iraqi-war-iosis: a state of being induced by excessive input concerning the American Coalition Invasion and Colonisation of Iraq.
I fashioned this story after some of the stories my teacher told, all those years ago. Some say he was a Sufi, I cannot say because I was only nine when I met him and I was only twelve when he died.
Once upon a time there were four childhood friends who were almost inseparable since childhood. They grew up to be fine and strong men. When they were adults their country came under attack from forces that sought to enslave them and rob them of their riches. So they decided to join the army to help defend their beloved homeland. Off they went to the capitol and they signed up. They were sent to basic training and was later assigned to their respective units. One of them showed talent as a cook and was make the camp cook. The rest became infantrymen. The three friends laughed when their friend told them that he was made a cook. “You will have a safe war,” one said. “Be happy my friend,” said another “you will live a long life. Tell your children how your friends became martyrs.”
“Truly! Martyrs go straight to heaven” said the third.
The fourth friend felt a little sad at his friends’ words but he was determined to do the best job he could.
So they went to war on the frontline. Everyday the fourth friend cooked and cared for his comrades. He sometimes saw his friends and they told him tales of their adventures and bravery. The fourth friend would listen with envy, each time wishing he had the chance to prove himself in battle as his friends have done.
Then the fateful day came. The enemy proved too strong and camp came under attack. The four friends died in the onslaught but they helped kill many invaders. The invaders went on to the capitol but their numbers had dwindled enough to leave them weakened, and so they were defeated and chased out of the country.
After the battle at the camp, the angels came to take souls of the martyrs to heaven but they took the fourth friend first. “Why do you take him before the rest of us?” Asked one of the martyrs.
“He is the reason you were all able to fight so well,” said the angel. “For verily, without his hands kneading the dough that fed you and made the bread that you took with you into battle, you would have starved and would have been useless as soldiers. Yea, he is more than a soldier, he is the one whose work is in every stroke of your sword. Do you not think it is proper now that he should lead you to meet your Maker?”
The other souls fell silent.
This story is dedicated to Fad who was griping about the state of the world recently. I think she is suffering from Iraqi-war-iosis: a state of being induced by excessive input concerning the American Coalition Invasion and Colonisation of Iraq.
I fashioned this story after some of the stories my teacher told, all those years ago. Some say he was a Sufi, I cannot say because I was only nine when I met him and I was only twelve when he died.
Once upon a time there were four childhood friends who were almost inseparable since childhood. They grew up to be fine and strong men. When they were adults their country came under attack from forces that sought to enslave them and rob them of their riches. So they decided to join the army to help defend their beloved homeland. Off they went to the capitol and they signed up. They were sent to basic training and was later assigned to their respective units. One of them showed talent as a cook and was make the camp cook. The rest became infantrymen. The three friends laughed when their friend told them that he was made a cook. “You will have a safe war,” one said. “Be happy my friend,” said another “you will live a long life. Tell your children how your friends became martyrs.”
“Truly! Martyrs go straight to heaven” said the third.
The fourth friend felt a little sad at his friends’ words but he was determined to do the best job he could.
So they went to war on the frontline. Everyday the fourth friend cooked and cared for his comrades. He sometimes saw his friends and they told him tales of their adventures and bravery. The fourth friend would listen with envy, each time wishing he had the chance to prove himself in battle as his friends have done.
Then the fateful day came. The enemy proved too strong and camp came under attack. The four friends died in the onslaught but they helped kill many invaders. The invaders went on to the capitol but their numbers had dwindled enough to leave them weakened, and so they were defeated and chased out of the country.
After the battle at the camp, the angels came to take souls of the martyrs to heaven but they took the fourth friend first. “Why do you take him before the rest of us?” Asked one of the martyrs.
“He is the reason you were all able to fight so well,” said the angel. “For verily, without his hands kneading the dough that fed you and made the bread that you took with you into battle, you would have starved and would have been useless as soldiers. Yea, he is more than a soldier, he is the one whose work is in every stroke of your sword. Do you not think it is proper now that he should lead you to meet your Maker?”
The other souls fell silent.
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