The old man and the sea

He was struck by how few possessions Jiddo left behind.  How could a man live so long, and then one day suddenly be gone, represented by so little?

And yet, there it was, everything near and dear to his grandpa, contained succinctly in two-by-two-meter bins of plastic, pushed up towards the corner of a small bedroom. Atop one of the bins was a large, framed photograph of Grandpa, standing along the Mediterranean coast with his hands held over his head. He looked full of life. Abd could see the picture's place on the wall, where its absence left an unblemished square. He thought it strange how that empty square could represent an emptiness of life, the gap where his grandpa used to be.

"Okay, Asfoori," said his mother. "I need to clean the rest of the house now." She scratched his head gently but paused as she looked across at the pile of her father's belongings. When she spoke again, Abd could hear the sobs being just barely held beneath composure.

"Go now and look for Papa's oud. And also, a box, with a bee on the clasp. Grandpa left those to you."

As his mother was leaving, Abd turned, and said, "Mama?" She stopped in the archway and turned to look at him. Her eyes were watering.

"Yes, ibni?"

"Do you think Jiddo went to Jannah?"

"Ya, Asfoori!”. Oh, my little Bird.

 “Inshallah."

She turned and left. For a few minutes after, Abd surveyed the collection, opening lids and lifting things here and there as he searched for the oud and the box.

Grandpa left something for me? Abd was excited, despite everything. His mother, his uncles, they were all mourning the loss of their father. But Abd knew his Jiddo well, knew the love which he expressed through life. Grandpa wasn't afraid to leave this world. And he wouldn't want Abd to be sad, either.

After some rooting around, Abd found his grandpa’s oud. It was delicately crafted, with generous curves and a shining tan veneer. In its age, it possessed character. After some rooting around, Abd found the oud. It was wrapped within a thick cloth, and Abd handled it carefully as he removed it. It was finely crafted in every detail, from the frets on the fingerboard, to the tuning pegs at the head. It was clear that Grandpa had maintained it well, for even in its age, its metal overlays and tan veneer retained their shine.

Grandpa had enjoyed playing and often gave Abd lessons. "If I had your talent, I might've been a musician!" he had once said with a smile and a laugh. Abd reminisced as he ran his fingers across the oud’s frame and strings. On one evening, they'd sat among the sugarcane and played in the cool desert air. Music has power, Habibi. Such that it can make a man shed his tears or feel pride in his heritage.

"Aoodhu billah..." I am seeking refuge in Allah. Abd muttered this as he settled the oud into the nook of his arm. Toward of the Shaitan's, Grandpa used to say. And ask for mercy: astaghfirullah. Sometimes, music can be a gateway to the Dunya.

When Grandpa first said that Abd was afraid of the instrument. But when Grandpa began plucking and strumming through his notes, Abd's apprehension would melt into delight. How could anything sounding so magical carry any kind of iniquity?

Still, Abd did as he was taught. Then, he began tuning each string. He laid his hands in place and let his shoulders relax. He flicked away, playing a wailing string of notes that was heavy with yearning. It was a melody Abd didn't even recognize, pouring out from within him. Don't control the music, Abd. Let it come to you, Grandpa would say. Abd would do just that, and when he finished, Grandpa would just stare, grinning, and say, "Al-hamdu lillah."

That's how it felt now. But as he played, Abd's eyes were drawn to a dull glint from one of the bins.

Abd stopped playing and walked over to the bin. He moved some of the clutter aside and peered within. Just visible, was a chest. Its clasp was polished bronze; it's shine long faded. Molded there, was an image of a bee.

Abd held the oud in one hand and prised the chest free with the other and set it atop one of the bins. He gave it an appraising look. It was excellently crafted, but heavily worn - in fact, it looked ancient.

There was Arabic etched into the dark wood, not all of it legible, and other parts formed confusing phrases that Abd did not recognize.

Abd ran his thumb along the clasp. He noticed something below it. A line of script. He wasn't entirely certain, but he thought it read:

I open at the close.

Abd sat and considered this for a moment. The day, maybe? He wasn't inclined to riddles, though, and quickly gave up. He flicked open the clasp and lifted the lid. The hinges creaked as it swung up. From within came a hollow sound like wind through a narrow passage.

the chest shot away, propelled by unseen force. Abd fell back in shock. In the fall, the oud swung in his hand and rapped against his head; shooting stars swarmed through his vision. The chest ricocheted off a wall and landed upon its side in the center of the room.

Abd sat up and rubbed at the knot rapidly forming along his temple.

"Aoodhu billah!" he said, repeating it thrice more as he glanced warily at the chest. It lay ajar, and from his position, Abd could only see an edge of darkness from within.

He continued reciting the ward and crept over to the chest. As he approached it, he held the oud at his side. He leaned over and peered into the box. The inside was an impossibly deep pit of darkness; staring into it made Abd's vision swim.

Out of the darkness came a peal of laughter. Abd scrambled away, but as he did, a streak of red cleaved the shadows, quick as a dart, and asserted itself around his ankle. It was a hand, all calluses and spiny knuckles! It was a hand, all calluses and spiny knuckles. It pulled Abd, and he tried to dig his fingers into the ground but found no purchase. The darkness rushed forth, enveloping him, as laughter spun into his skull, drowning out his screams...

"The grandson... My, my, what a sad sight. I must say, I expected more. " The voice that spoke was oily and throaty, the kind that infiltrates a man like poison.

I am dreaming, I hit my head too hard, Abd thought. "Look at me, child!"

Abd opened his eyes, despite every instinct screaming at him to keep them shut. And behold! Out of a infinite darkness, there was a creature with blood-red skin that pulsed as if fire burned beneath the surface. Wickedly sharp nails protruded from bony fingers, and gnarled horns curled from its head.

"Efreet!" Abd shrieked and turned to run. Everywhere was darkness. When Abd turned, the Efreet appeared in front of him.

A massive hand that grew as it extended clutched at Abd's waist and lifted him up. The Efreet stared at Abd with eyes like molten steel.

"Your grandfather is dead, little one. Shall I teach you his legacy?" The Efreet spoke mockingly:

" Decades ago, your Jiddo stumbled upon my chest, and woke me from a peaceful sleep. I would've killed him then, but he lured me - clever old rogue - into a gambit: a game of chess." Abd struggled uselessly against the Efreets grip. It continued:

"So, we struck a deal. If he won, I would release him and preserve his life for another year. If I won, he would forfeit his life, and that of his firstborn male heir.

Alas! He won that day, and was spared, for every exchange has rules, and I am one of my words. And I slept for a drop of time. But, in his old age, he returned. 'I am sick, Efreet, and wish to stay with my family awhile longer. Renew our deal and play a game of chess with me.' I accepted. And he came again the next year. And so on.

"How infuriating, to lose so many times! Am I not smokeless fire, while you are, but clay? But do you wish to know the truth, Habibi?"

Not sure where he found his strength, Abd shouted, "I am not your Habibi!" Abd gasped as the Efreet squeezed hard around him. Pa in blossomed in his ribs.

"No matter. I preserved you Jiddo al-ghayli for many years. Until our most recent meeting. Poor Jiddo... He lost his touch, and then I knew I would win. The Efreet sneered. But Abd was listening suspiciously now, for he had never seen his grandpa lose even a single game of chess, except when he allowed Abd to win. "But he had entertained me so, all those years," the Efreet said.

"Yes, your grandfather lost. And so, I killed him. But as for his male heir..." It smiled perniciously at Abd.

"If you kill me, then do it now, shayatin!" Abd shouted. The Efreet cackled. "Kill you? No, Habibi. It is our turn for deals."

"I will not deal with you!"

The Efreet bared yellow teeth. "Careful, boy. Don't treat grace with scorn."

Abd was going to deny it once more, would've; but the he pictured his mother, her sore heart, how she might dies of pain if she lost her ibni, too. And he thought of his Jiddo.

No! Grandpa wouldn't really lose to this fiend, would he? But then, how...?

Music has power, Habibi. And suddenly, Abd had an idea.

"By Allah, Efreeti, my Jiddo left me this old oud which he taught me to play. And my mother calls me 'Asfoori', and this little bird does sing!

"So, hear my song, and I will make you a deal, if you are no liar before Allah. If I play this tune and you enjoy it, you release me. But if you do not..." Abd stared directly into the Efreet's burning eyes. "Do as you please."

The Efreet looked contemplative for some time, weighing Abd's proposal.

It grinned wickedly and set him down before shrinking to the size of a common man. The darkness behind it swirled, became a bed of pillows, upon which the Efreet reclined; and at its elbow appeared a bowl of dates, which it began to eat from.

"Go on then, Asfoori."

Abd closed his eyes and plucked a few notes. Then, he drifted into a haunting melody, one that mirrored the mourning in his heart. As he played, he sang a song, one that he'd never learned but that sprung from his heart as if it had always been there.

It was the story of a man who set out to sea in a boat. Abd's fingers jumped to and fro as he played, and the ballad continued, telling how the Sea made to sink the man. But the man shouted to the Sea.

"Call up a grandmother storm! And if I sail through its reach, then you must share your treasures."

And it did. But the man sailed through.

Abd continued into a finale, his whole body alive with the music. The man went to the Sea many times and navigated its storms. He grew old, and wealthy, and provided for all of his family. Until his health failed him, and he could count his remaining days. His sons were all sailors, and he knew they would never sail in peace after their father had angered the Sea so.

And so it went, that the man, now old, contended with the Sea once more. He prayed to his Creator and cast off into the tempest.

Abd lowered his voice, and cried the final verses, feeling the sad strength of the old man of the sea. He remembers something his Jiddo once told him. A man who knows he will lose can still choose how he loses.

The old man never returned from the Sea, and the Sea relished its victory. And the man's sons sailed in calm waters for all their days, always remembering their father.

The closing chord vibrated through the darkness, hanging in the air.

"Goodbye, Jiddo," Abd whispered.

For a moment he thought the Efreet was asleep, how it reposed there with its eyes shut. But then its dark lids slid back, revealing eyes that glowed like embers.

"Asfoori," it croaked, stretching every syllable. "Why didn't you say that you had such talent! We will enjoy each other's company for quite so many years!." It laughed in delight.

However, Abd had a peculiar smile. He said, "But Efreeti don't you love deals? I offer you another one."

The Efreet looked at him curiously and gestured for him to continue.

"If you can tell me the truth of my song, I will agree to stay here with you forever, entertaining you with my music. But if you cannot..." Abd paused, then, said quietly, "then you will remain here, and sleep, no longer to disturb my family."

The Efreet smiled broadly, sharp teeth glinting in the dark.

"It is simple, little bird. The Sea was far too arrogant, letting a mere man be at him even once. The man was clever, true. But in the end, the fool chose to challenge the Sea one time too many!

Now, it was Abd's turn to smile.

"Incorrect, Habibi. And now the deal is struck. By Allah, you must release me."

The Efreet's smirk became a frown, and it whirled into a rage, morphing to a fearsome size, eyes ablaze.

"Do you mock me, child!? You will not win your life through lies!"

"I do not lie! And now, shall I tell you your legacy?

"You see, the old man was my Jiddo al-ghayli, as you called him - and indeed, he was dear to me. And the Sea, that is you. He challenged you, and won, and reaped the reward, just like the old man. Here's the secret: in the end, he chose to let you win, foreseeing his own mortality. Little did you know that he entrusted our fates to me. He tricked you!" And now, you've been poisoned by two apples from the same tree!

For I have fooled you as well. You are indeed smokeless fi re, and I clay. But fi re burns fuel endlessly. Clay, however, needs but to be molded. Now, in the Name of Allah, free me!"

The Efreet roared, gnashed its teeth. "I will crush you, Asfoori!" It raised its massive arms overhead, swung down. But then, it was sucked away into the darkness, spiraling, disappearing, and its roars were reduced to mere echoes.

And at that moment, the air rushed around Abd, a gale that threatened to burst his ear drums and tear him apart. There was an influx of light, and -

He was on his hind quarters, lying along the floor of his grandfather's old room, the oud at his side.

He looked around for the chest, but it was nowhere in sight.

I open at the close.

Abd looked at those bins of old possessions once more, thought again about those days spent with his grandpa, and it struck him: it wasn't old belongings, or a home, or an oud or chest that Grandpa had left behind. It was a matter of the heart, something that couldn't be stored away.

Abd smiled.

His mother entered the room and saw him sitting there. Worry creased her forehead.

"Habibi, are you alright? I thought I heard something."

"Yes, Mama. I found the oud." Abd gestured to it.

"And the chest?"

Abd just shrugged.

She began rooting through the storage bins, and after a time, stood back with her hands on her hips.

"That's strange... I just put it in here yesterday..."

Abd hugged his mother from behind. She started, then looked down at him curiously.

"Mama, I think Jiddo is in a good place now. And I know he loved us."

"Yes, Asfoori. I believe you are right."