Alhassanain(p) Network for Heritage and Islamic Thought

The Mid-Day Traveler

The earth was hot and fire was pouring from the sky. The crickets were chirping in the thorny shrubs. Three men came down from a hill and a cloud of dust rose in the air. The first man stood at the bottom of the hill. He loosened the cover on his face and with great tiredness said, "we have been searching this desert for hours, but we haven't found a single drop of water."

The second man sadly looked around himself. Tired and sweaty, he filled his hand with dust, let them in the air, and quietly said, "The earth is dry, and I can't smell any water. Perhaps we are destined to die of thirst in this desert."

The third man crossed the hill and the two other men followed him. The hot earth was covered with soft sand and their legs sank in it up to their knees. Exhausted and thirsty, the three men searched around themselves but the hot desert lay ahead of them in every direction. Suddenly one of them shadowed his face with a hand, pointed in a direction, and cried, "Look!"

On the other side of the hill were a few palm trees. The palm trees had bent their long leaves towards a small pond. A sheep was lying in their shade. A distance further, a little hut was seen. An old woman was sitting next to the hut, weaving. The three men ran towards her in a hurry. Seeing them, the woman got on her legs terrified and swung her walking stick in the air.

One of the men said, "We don't mean you any harm, we are travelers who have suffered from hunger and thirst in the desert."

The woman looked at them with doubt and said, "Who are you?"

"We are pilgrims ofKa'ba . We will be grateful if you give us some water," said the man.

"Are you traveling to Mecca on feet?"

The man dropped his head and said, "I am ashamed of my God not to walk on feet to …we have a pledge with our God to travel the way to his house on feet."

The woman brought down her stick and said, "The door of my house is always open to the pilgrims of Mecca, go in the hut and rest."

The three men went into the hut. The woman milked the cow. Moments later she entered with a bowl full of milk and said, "drinking water in this hot desert will weaken the eye sight. I have brought some milk to remove the thirst and tiredness from your bodies."

They drank the milk with fervor. "I live with my husband in this hut. He always goes out to the desert in the morning and returns at dusk. I know that you are hungry, but I don't have anything in the house…," continued the woman.

The woman became silent and stared at the sheep lying in the shade. The win blew softly and moved the palm's long leaves. The woman thought with herself, "If I kill the sheep, I can provide these tired travelers some food."

The woman walked slowly towards the sheep. One of the men got up, went towards the pond, and performed ablution. The woman looked at him. His body was trembling and looked pale. "Is this shaking of your body from hunger and thirst?" the woman asked, concerned.

"No," answered the man. "I want to stand to prayer before the God of the world. This trembling is out of fear of Him."

There was something familiar in the man's face. "Where have I seen him?" the woman thought with herself.

The man was fair and his hair was twisted and thick. His eyes were as black as the nights of the desert. With seeing him, the old woman remembered one of her childhood memories. A day when her mother had climbed one of the palm trees and picked the white unripe date sprouts to drop them down for her. That day, the palm grove had a strange scent. It was as if the air was filled with the scent of all the green groves of the world. At that moment, his father had suddenly come running to the palm tree and cried, "I have wonderful news. A man called 'Mohammad' has invited everyone to worship of the One God. He rejects the worshipping of idols and criticizes the people for buying of girls. He is the messenger of God and he has brought the message of good fortune from the sky..."

The old woman took a deep breath. He looked at the man again and thought, "Who is this man? Why does he remind me of that day?"

The man lifted his head and said, "Mother, what are you thinking about?"

The woman came to herself and answered, "I… I want one you men to kill the sheep so I could make food for you."

"No, mother," the man replied, "if your husband returns home and asks about the sheep what will you answer him?"

The woman held her head up and said, "My husband will never leave anyone hungry in the desert."

Then, she asked one of them to kill the sheep. She quickly prepared a meal. After eating their food, the three men got up and left the hut. One of the men turned to the woman and said, "thank you for your hospitality and kindness. Now show us the way to Mecca."

The woman pointed to the east. The sun was gathering its last rays from the earth. The three men set off on their feet. The woman stared at them as they disappeared in the sunset.

Moments later the sound of her husband echoed through the desert: "where are you woman? Bring some milk for me to drink. Don't you know that I'm thirsty and tired when I come home?"

Troubled, the woman answered, "You know…our sheep… I mean I have…"

The man looked towards the palm trees and the empty spot of the sheep and asked with fury, "Where is the sheep?"

The woman looked towards the eastern horizon and quietly said, "They were three men; Three tired and thirsty men. Their food and water supply had finished. I quenched their thirst with the sheep's milk and then I asked them to kill the sheep and I…"

"What are you saying?" the man screamed. "Am I hearing right? You have killed our sheep for three strangers?"

"They were not strangers," replied the woman as she kept her eyes on the eastern horizon. "I recognized something familiar in the face of one of them; the light of prophets and the dignity of the great ones."

"What are you saying? Who was he?" the husband yelled.

The woman like one talking with herself, slowly said, "He looked so much like 'Mohammad' the Messenger of God."

The man hit himself in the head with both hands and cried, "Have you gone crazy woman? Don't you know that the Prophet has passed away many years ago? Don't you remember that you grieved on his death?"

"I swear to God that I have not forgotten that day," answered the women.

The man screamed, "Then are you pretending to be crazy to free yourself from my punishment? You have given away our only sheep and you want to get away from punishment? Say that you regret what you have done."

The woman brought her head up and said, "If I had a thousand sheep, I would have killed them all for them."

The man got hold of his walking stick and rushed towards the woman. The woman ran towards the hill, terrified. The man could not follow herany more and screamed, "I swear to God, if I see a shadow of you on this desert, I would dig a whole and burry you in it alive," and looked at the women disappearing on the other side of the hill.

* * *

The sound of the camels' bells could be heard from the alleys of Medina. The sun was shining on the long palm leaves. The wind lifted the soil from the ground and dispersed them on a grey-haired old woman. The woman had bent down and was busy picking the date seeds from the ground and put them in her basket. The people of Medina passed the alleys quickly. The woman lifted her head and looked at the sun, which had reached the middle of the sky. She thought with herself, "the sun has reached the middle of the sky but my basket is not half-full yet."

A grey-colored pigeon settled on the ground, next to the old woman and picked at the date seeds. The old woman gazed at the pigeon and said, "So you're after the seeds like me. Do you pass your days by selling date seeds too?"

The pigeon circled itself and picked at the ground again. The old woman said, "I know that you are hungry and you're forced to find your food from the date seeds. If I had a house, I would take you with me and give you wheat and barley. I would then sit next to you to make baskets from the palm leaves. Just like those days…"

The woman sighed and thought deeply. The pigeon took a little twig in its bill and flew. It put the twig on the edge of a mud-built wall. The soft wind blew the twig in the air. The old woman movedher self . She wiped the sweat of tired face with the back of her hand and again bent herself to the ground. She thought with herself, "whatever it was, it has passed, but I do not regret what I have done. The face of that man reminded me of the Prophet. He had an oath with his God to travel the way to Mecca on foot and when he stood to pray his body trembled out of fear of God. At that moment, I felt as if he is like a bright pond reflecting the sun. "

She brought her head up and looked at the sky and said, "O' God, who was he?"

Suddenly the woman felt a heavy look on herself. She averted her eyes from the sky and gazed around herself. Her heart trembled in her chest. A man had kneeled next to the old woman and was looking at her. The man had a reddish face, and his eyes were as black as desert night. The woman came to herself and said with terror, "My God! Save me from this dream. This is his vision, looking at me."

She got up, pulled her basket after herself, and tried to get away from the man. The man stood up and said, "Wait!"

The woman froze on her spot.

"Do you know me?" asked the man.

"No, who are you?" the woman replied with a shaky voice.

"I am the person who was your guest along with two other men in a mid-day," said the man.

"For God's sake tell me, are you that guest or his vision?" asked the woman.

The man said, "Today, when I was crossing this alley, I saw you bent down on the ground, picking date seeds. It is now the time for you to rest. I went to give you one thousand sheep, and one thousand gold Dinars. Will you accept this gift from me?"

"One thousand gold Dinars?! But who are you?" the stunned woman said.

"I am a servant from the servants of God who was your guest one day," answered the man.

The man wrote something on a piece of paper. He gave the paper to the woman and went away.

"But who are you?" the woman asked desperately.

A man walking the alley looked at the old woman surprised and said, "how can you not know him?! He is 'Hasan , the son of Ali', the second Imam of theShias ."

The woman trembled, looked at the Imam disappearing on the end of the alley with astonishment.

The wind blew softly and filled the air with the scent of ripe dates.

I amSakinah

I amSakinah , today isAshoora of the year 61 A.H., and here is Karbala! Perhaps an hour has passed noon. I do not know. From morning to now, for us, it has seemed like a lifetime; especially these moments that father has gone towards the battlefield. It is hard to gaze at the cloud of dust rising in the battlefield and to hear the shrieks of the enemy, while father is among them; it is very hard.

The sound of the drums beating and the shrill screams of the enemy make our hearts sink.

We are surrounded with dust and blood.

The sunshine above us is hot and the earth beneath, even hotter.

Thirst, thirst, our mouths are burning from thirst, our lips have dried up like parched clay, our tongues are hard and dry in our mouths and our faces have become pale from the extreme heat. My father had only seventy-two soldiers whileYazid has an army of tens of thousands.

Since morning, my father's followers have gone to the battlefield one by one. They stood bravely against the enemy's army, they fought with courage, they killed tens of the enemy soldiers, and then they were martyred.

Now, my father is all alone and surrounded by the soldiers of the enemy.

Oh, how I wish the distance between the tents and the battlefield was not this long. How I wish I could see father fighting. How I wish father had let me go with him.

A father fighting alone against a vast army and his daughter having no news about him?! The only thing visible from here is a haze of dust and dirt; and the only thing hearable is the uproar of the enemy.

Yesterday, the wrinkles of weariness were clearly visible in my father's expression. Thousands of people fromKufa and other cities had written him letters and promised to support him if he rose againstYazid's ruthless government…but only seventy-two people came to help him.

Those seventy-two people were very dear to my father. My father told them, "You are the best of people. I do not know any followers more loyal and faithful than you; no one has ever had followers as fine as mine."

We all cried when they were martyred but father did not show his sorrow.

When my older brother Ali-Akbar fell down from his horse we all lost heart but father did not.

When the enemies' arrow ripped Ali-Asghar's throat in my father's hands, we started wailing and weeping, but father stood firm.

When my uncleAbbas , who was father's flagman, the sentinel of the tents and the provider of water, fell from his horse and the enemy cut his body to pieces…my father kept his patience; but his stature was bent and he put his hands on his waist crying, "My back broke".

When all of my father's followers became martyred, my father prepared himself to go to the battlefield, but first he gathered all the women and children and told them with calmness, "Make you ready for affliction and hardship. Be sure that God is your protector. He will soon save you from the enemy and you shall have a fine destiny. And your enemies will experience all kinds of torture and suffering.

Instead of these sufferings, God will give you blessings and treat you with generosity.

So do not complain about anything and do not say thing that decrease your dignity."

After this, we were all sure that father would be martyred.

I said, "Father, have you surrendered yourself to death?"

Then I burst into tears and cried and cried.

I did not want to act impatiently, but I no longer had the power. I was not the only one that was restless. Even my aunt,Zainab who tried to comfort us, was wiping away her tears.

Father hugged me and said:

"Sweetheart, how can someone with no allies not surrender to death?!"

I started sobbing again and said:

"Under whose care will you put us?"

Father wiped my tears with his hands and lips and after kissing my wet eyelashes said,

"I put you under the care of God and His blessings; He who supports you in this world and the afterworld. Have patience, my daughter, about the things that God wants and don't complain, because this world will come to an end and but the afterworld remains."

I did not complain and I was not ungrateful, but I cried and cried.

How could I not cry, while my father, the best father in the world, was going to the battlefield all alone to stand against thousands of men?

Father said farewell to everybody and stroked the children's hair affectionately. Then he whispered things to my auntZainab that we could not understand. After that, he told her to bring him an old garment.

We were all surprised and asked,

"Why do you want an old garment?"

Father answered:

"The enemy is an unmanly one. After killing me, they will take my clothes as spoils. I want to wear an old garment under my clothes so my body will not be bare after I'm martyred."

It was as if father was going to a splendid ceremony. He put on his clothes, fastened his sword and armor, wiped the sweat of his forehead with his turban, then tidied his grey beard and prepared to go…to go towards a savage enemy that was awaiting him with barbaric shrieks.

None one could prevent him from going and even if he did not go, the enemy would come to the tents.

No one could prevent him from going, because he had foretold his death before this day and he had said that Islam would only survive if he were martyred.

No one could tell him,

"Father, don't go!"

"Uncle, don't go!"

"Brother, don't go!"

Because he was the Imam of all, and we all knew that the Imam only does what God wants. However, we only wanted him to stay with us one more moment, so we could see him, speak with him, and listen to his voice a little longer.

My auntZainab , trembling, cried out with tearful eyes,

"Not so fast dear brother, not so fast…"

Father stood and for one last time looked at the crowd of distressed women and children who were crying after him. If anyone other than father had seen this scene, he would have surely slowed his pace; but there was no change in father's faith and decision and he did not slow his pace. He just gave us an affectionate wave with his hand, put us under the care of God, and hurried towards his horse.

I could notbare it any more. This was too little for me; I, who in a few moments would lose such a good father and become an orphan. I stood up involuntarily and without father seeing me, ran towards his horse. Father was sitting firmly on his horse and was getting ready to go. However, the horse did not move because I had clasped my hands tightly around its legs.

The horse was staring into my eyes and was crying with my cries.

Father got off his horse and held me tight to his chest. He wiped my tears and said, "Oh my daughter, my dear daughter"

I said, "Oh father. When Moslem was martyred, you hugged his orphan girl and patted her head. If you go and I become an orphan who is going to pat my head?"

Father's eyes filled with tears. I could feel his heart breaking. While fighting back his tears, he slowly whispered to me, "Sakinah , my daughter, please do not cry, because after I go you will shed many tears. While I am here, while I am still alive, do not set my heart ablaze with your tears.

Oh, best daughter in the world, truly after I go you have the most right to cry."

I knew it was impossible, but I don't know why I said,

"Father, take us back to Medina beside the shrine of our grandfather, the Prophet (peace be upon him)."

Father turned his innocent look towards the enemy and said,

"You know it's not possible my daughter."

The shrieks and screams of the enemy were becoming louder and father had to go.

Father set off and I could still feel the warmth of his dried lips on my cheeks. Now I can hear the clanging of swords and the neighing of horses and the savage screams of the enemy.

We are standing beside the tents; we are holding our breaths and shivering with fright.

…Oh, I think this is my father's horse coming towards us without a rider; its head and mane covered in blood. Is this the sound of my cry or Fatima's orRoghayah's …?

A Gift from Sky

The call to evening prayer echoed through the alleys of Medina. This is the moment, when he comes to the mosque for praying. I can recognize him even if I see him from a distance. He walks slowly and he always has a few of his followers by his side. His face is pale and his brow is calloused from nightly bows and prostrations. The light of day is gradually fading and darkness is taking its place. I am hiding behind a palm tree. I see him nearing slowly.

He is my cousin. He is 'ImamSajjad '. I have seen him helping the needy many times. He pays the debts of the broke and gives food to the poor at his house. I like all other poor men need his help. Everyone in the town knows this. He knows better than anyone else, how broke I am. However, he has never helped me. Today, I have decided to cry out to him everything that is in my heart.

I approach him slowly and shout at him. I swear at him and tell him what is in my heart. How rudely I talk to him and what terrible things I accuse him of!

I am astonished. A signal from him is enough to make me an injured and wounded man by his followers. But, he patiently looks at me in silence. I understand nothing of his look. I finish my words. I have nothing else to say. He is standing calmly with the same look on his face. How I wish him to return my rude words. How I wish him to shout back at me and punch me in the face. I look around myself.Every one is looking at me with anger and hatred.

ImamSajjad takes a step towards me. His mysterious silence is terrifying me. My heart is pounding like a drum. Imam fixes his eyes on me for a moment and then softly says, "Brother, if what you are saying about me is true, may God forgive me, and if it is not true, may God forgive you."

I cover my face with my hands and run away. Idon not know what I'm running away from; for fear of my life, or from the shame that I feel growing inside me. I pass the narrow, dark alleys in terror.

When I come to myself, I find myself at home. My body is still trembling and I am burning from inside. I hold my head in my hands. How many times have I sworn at him? And each time he has given me an answer, so patiently and calmly, that has set me ablaze.

The chirping of crickets tells of the emergence of night. Suddenly my heart leaps. Night; this is the moment, when an angel appears in our neighborhood from the sky. Every night, when it is completely dark, an angel comes down from the sky and divides the contents of his sack among the poor people of our neighborhood. Everyone has forgotten me. But God hasn't. If he had, he wouldn't have sent this angel to me every night.

When it is night, that angel comes down quietly, and one by one knocks on the doors of the houses. He has aleathern bag full of food and firewood and he gives them to the poor people. This is why he is known as "the sack holder" in our neighborhood.

Oh… my God! Darkness has drawn its cover over everything. It is getting closer to the time when "the sack holder" comes to my house and I am waiting for him. I open the door slowly and look at the alley. I hear the children of my neighbor crying from behind the mud-built walls. It is night, but the food is not yet served at the neighbor's house. I hear the quiet voice of my neighbor 'Samia ', who is trying to calm his hungry child. The children are hungry and mothers are desperately searching for a piece of bread in their homes. A black shadow emerges from one end of the alley. It's him. He takes his steps quietly and slowly. His back is bent under the burden that he is carrying. He knocks on the door of the first house he gets to. A woman opens the door and says, "Hello to you, O holder of the sack, hello to you O angel of God," and the angel takes out two bags from his sack and gives them to her.

I go inside and close the door. A moment later, a knock on the door is heard. My heart leaps. How I wish I could see his face, but he covers his face with a cloth. I open the door with trembling hands. The alley is quiet and empty and only the chirping of crickets breaks the silence of the night. I can no longer hear the children of the neighbor cry. The angel puts down his leather sack. Tonight, instead of food, he puts a pouch full of coins in my hand. My hands tremble even more.

When I come to myself, he has gone and disappeared. Nobody knows who he is. But I do. He is an angel that God sends every night to help the poor. I wish I could see him going up towards the sky. Pity, for he disappears so softly and lightly that I have never seen his departure.

"Samia ! Have you seen his departure?"

"No, I haven't. They say he disappears before going to the sky. Then he opens his wings softly and flies towards the sky."

Once, when he was handing me the bag of bread, I gripped his hands and held them against my eyes. His hands smelled like roses. They had the scent of green bushes. He softly took his hands out of mine and stroked my head. His stroke was warm and wonderful, like that of a mother towards her child in a cradle.

* * *

Our neighborhood is under the dark cover of night. This is the moment, which 'the sack holder' arrives. I know that the neighbors are waiting for him behind their doors. And am I not waiting?! Everyone has deserted me. I'm ill and tired. 'The sack holder' is the only one who understands my condition. If it weren't for him, how hard and tiring my life would have been.

The minutes are passing slowly. The air is heavy and a sad odor reaches my nostrils from the damp cracks of the wall. The sound of the cries of children has reached the sky. Tonight, their cries are shriller and louder than usual. When is the angel going to come?

I look at the sky. It is dark and black and there is still five days left to a new moon. The cry of children reaches its peak. I put my hands over my ears so that I don't hear anything. But, no; this is not just the sound of the children crying. Tonight I can hear the adults crying too. The men are crying; the women are crying, O my God...What am I hearing? I had never heard the people cry out of hunger! Their voices get louder every second.

I feel everything crying, the walls of the house, the floor of the alley, and even the colorless wooden doors of the house. Am I hearing right? Is thisSamia crying? How painful he cries! Is he crying out of hunger? No, I KnowSamia . He has been my neighbor for years. He didn't cry like this even on the sudden death of his wife.

I open the door in a hurry. The entire town is crying. The tall palms have drawn their heads closer to the ground and the sky has pulled a veil of cloud over its face to hide its tears. The alley is full of people.Every one is crying and hitting themselves on the head. Nobody answers me and I run from one side of the alley to the other.Samia is sitting alone next to a palm and he is shrieking. He fills his hands with dust and pours them over his head.

The palms hit their branches on their trunks andSamia hits his head. I sit beside him and desperately ask,

"Samia , why are you crying? Is your daughter ill?

His shriek echoes louder than any other sound in the alley. Again, I ask "Samia , answer me. You are piecing my heart."

"The angel went to the sky; Forever. I saw his departure with my own eyes. "Samia cries.

I helplessly ask, "What are you saying? The angel hasn't come to our houses yet; how could you see his departure?"

Samia hits his head on the palm trunk and cries," That angel was ImamSajjad and today he was martyred. When they were washing his body,every one knew from the black callus on his shoulders that every night he had carried a sack on his back and given food to the needy."

And I no longer hear the rest of his words. I feel the whole alley swirling around my head. I close and open my eyes several times. I put all my energy in my legs and head towardsBaghi ' cemetery.

Next to the grave of ImamHasan , I see a grave that is covered with fresh earth. I madly throw myself on it. The soil smells like the hands of the 'sack holder', the scent that filled me with the love of God.

Coins of Victory

'AbdulMalek ' was the caliph. He was leaning on his throne and listening to his vizier. The vizier was standing at attention, and was reading out the report of what he had done. When he finished the report, AbdulMalek thought for a while, and then took the paper from the vizier so he could read it more accurately. When he looked at the paper, his eyes fell upon a sign at the top of it. AbdulMalek stared at the sign. He brought the paper closer but he couldn't understand anything from the sign. He had forgotten the vizier’s report and he tried to find the secret to the sign. When he realized that he could get nothing from the sign on the paper, he told his vizier, "What is the meaning of the sign at the top of your report paper?"

The vizier who seemed to be seeing the sign for the first time answered, "I don't know, my lord!"

AbdulMalek said with surprise, "Are you saying that you don't know the sign at the top of your own paper?"

The vizier took another look at the paper and answered, "No, my lord! I don't know"

AbdulMalek called another one of his viziers. The second vizier came forward and bowed. AbdulMalek gave him the paper and said, "Let's see, can you understand anything from this sign?"

The vizier bowed again and took the paper. He stared at the sign at the top of the paper. After a while he took a step forward and said, "May the caliph be in good health; the sign on the page is not Arabic. It seems to be in the Roman language. Allow me to bring someone acquainted with this language so he could inform you of the meaning of this sign."

With the caliph's order, a number of agents went after a man who was acquainted with the Roman language. The agents brought him very quickly to the presence of AbdulMalek . AbdulMalek gave the paper of his vizier to the man and said, "Tell me what you understand from the sign on the paper."

The man stared at the sign and after some moments said, "May the caliph be in good health! This sign is the symbol of the Christians. In addition, there is a sentence in the sign written in Roman, which is the motto and belief of the Christians."

AbdulMalek became very angry from what the man said. He called his agents and ordered them to imprison his vizier.

The vizier, who did not expect such an attitude, kneeled on his knees and said,

"Oh great caliph, what has been my crime that you order my imprisonment?"

The caliph answered with great fury, "what greater crime than the fact that you are my vizier and yet at the top of your report paper is a writing which is the motto and belief of the Christians?!"

The wretched vizier asked for permission and said, "My lord! This is not my crime. My people have bought this paper from the bazaar. All the papers sold in Damascus bazaar have this sign on them. I am a Muslim. I haven't committed a crime."

* * *

In reality what the vizier said was true. At that time, only the Egyptian Christians produced paper and the Egyptian Christians followed the Roman Christians and stamped a special sign at the top of the papers. These papers were sent to all the Islamic cities. Therefore, all the papers, which were in the hands of the Muslim people, bore the Christian sign on them.

When AbdulMalek found out about it, he became thoughtful.

He did not favor the circulation of a paper in his country, which had the sign of a foreign country stamped on it. Therefore, he wrote a letter to the governor of Egypt and asked him to stop the paper manufacturers from stamping the Christian sign on the papers. In addition, he ordered them to stamp 'There is no God but Allah' on top of the papers. With his order all papers with Christian signs were collected and they were replaced with papers which bore the sentence, 'There is no God but Allah'.

The Muslims were very happy with this replacement. On the other hand, AbdulMalek who knew that the people do not like him and are in distress from hisoppressions, introduced himself as a great caliph.

Little by little, the new papers were seen everywhere. These papers had even found their way to the Roman court. The Roman emperor was a Christian who had great power. He always sent money for the Christians in Egypt who had paper factories.

The Roman emperor became very miserable when he realized that they had replaced the Christian sign on the papers.

He sent a letter to AbdulMalek . As follows:

The caliphs before you all used the papers that had the Christian sign on them. This sign has been at the top of the papers for tens of years. You better proceed like your fathers and order the removal of 'there is no God but Allah' from the papers and stamp back the previous sign at the top of all papers.

The emperor sent many gifts with the letter to AbdulMalek .

* * *

The emperor's messenger reached AbdulMalek's palace with the letter and priceless gifts. AbdulMalek read the letter. Then he told the emperor's messenger, "The letter which you have brought has no answer. Take the gifts and go back. I will not accept these gifts."

The emperor's messenger took the gifts and returned to Rome. He explained everything to the emperor. The emperor wrote another letter for AbdulMalek . He again asked him to put back the Christian sign on the papers and omit 'there is only one God'. The emperor sent the letter with another messenger to AbdulMalek and doubled the gifts.

Again, AbdulMalek returned the gifts and left the letter without an answer.

The emperor's messenger took the gifts and went back to Rome.

AbdulMalek knew that the Roman emperor was powerful. For this reason, he did not want to annoy him. But he couldn't change his decision.

The people of Damascus had all found out about the subject. If he had given in to what the Roman emperor had said, he would have disgraced himself.

For the third time, the Roman emperor sent even more gifts for AbdulMalek , but this time he included a threatening letter for the caliph. He had written in his letter as follows:

"I sent you gifts and friendly letters twice; but you refused to answer me and returned my gifts. This time I have sent you more valuable gifts. You better accept them and order the removal of 'there is no god but Allah' and stamp the Christian sign like before on the papers. In this way our friendly relationship will stay as firm as before. If you do not do this, I will order the stamping of insulting sentences towards your prophet on gold and silver coins. You know that the people of your country trade with Roman coins. Then, you shall see that the Muslim people of your land will be forced to trade with coins that insult their prophet."

The third letter of the Roman emperor frustrated AbdulMalek . He had never thought of the Roman coins. The Roman coins were the currency of that time. All the people traded with them. A few of those coins could be found in the pockets, pouches, houses and shops of everyone. If the Roman emperor stuck to his words and ordered the stamping of insulting words towards the prophet, the Muslims would revolt. Every one needed coins to buy and sell. Moreover, there was no one who knew how to make coins with gold and silver to free the people from trading with Roman coins.

AbdulMalek was really helpless and didn't know what to do. If he allowed the stamping of the Christian signs on the papers, he would lose his influence and position. And if he didn't allow it, coins would circle in the market that was an even greater danger for his power and ruling.

This time he didn't sent back the emperor messenger straight away. He decided to gather his counselors and nobles, so that they could come to a decent conclusion and answer the emperor.

The noblemen of Damascus and the counselors of the palace circled around the Caliph.

AbdulMalek set forth his problem but no one could come to a reasonable solution. Their meetings were held for a few days, but it was all useless. On the next day one of the nobles stepped forward fearfully. He politely turned to AbdulMalek and said, "I know someone who is sure to have a solution to your problem. You alreadynow him but I'm not sure if you would like to consult him or not?"

"Who is he?" AbdulMalek asked.

"He is Imam MohammadBaqir " the man replied.

A heavy silent shadowed the meeting. Everyone knew that AbdulMalek was an enemy of Imam MohammadBaqir (p.b.u.h .).

Everyone knew Imam MohammadBaqir . They all knew that Imam MohammadBaqir was an intellectual and that's why he was called 'Baqir ', meaning the splitter of knowledge. They were sure that the Imam knew very well the solution to their problem.

AbdulMalek started to think deeply. He, too, was sure that Imam MohammadBaqir knew what to do. But seeking help from him was very hard for the caliph. He had frequently asked the governor of Medina to keep an eye on Imam MohammadBaqir and his followers.

After some moments, AbdulMalek wrote a letter to the governor of Medina and asked him to send Imam MohammadBaqir to Damascus with honor and respect.

A few days later, Imam MohammadBaqir entered Damascus while facing the welcome of the people. Imam knew about the problem.

AbdulMalek went to meet the Imam at a suitable time and informed him of the situation. After hearing about it, Imam MohammadBaqir replied, "the emperor's threat will not be carried out! Be sure that God will not give him the chance to make coins that are insulting towards the prophet and distribute them among the people. The real solution to this problem is easy too. Gather the artisans of Damascus so I could teach them how to make coins."

Soon after, all of the artisans of Damascus circled around Imam MohammadBaqir . Imam taught them making of coin which they needed. Also he determined the weight, size, and value of the coins and organized a plan to make three kinds of coins. Imam MohammadBaqir told them to write theSurah At-Towhid on one side; and the name of the prophet of Islam on the other side.

The order of Imam was quickly sent to other towns either. The people gave their Roman coins to the governors and received Islamic coins instead. On the coins was the place and date of the town they were made in. Trading with Roman coins was prohibited. From then on the Islamic coins became the validate coins of trade in the vast Muslim territory.