A silent cry

28 Sihr

i take Jabil to the shiekh although he refused the idea immediately. "you think I'm crazy?" he said standing up in the middle of the conversation. he rubbed the sides of his forehead in distress "are you serious right now?" he repeats in disbelief.  And i was serious. if I have to drag him there i will. i stare at him hard with a stern expression. "do i look like I'm kidding?" he exhales shaking his head in disbelief

on the way to the Shiekh not a single word was spoken. I never said he was possessed, so i don't understand his reaction and resistance to this idea.

The Shiekh was kind and welcomed us in, i explained to him the situation, and Jabil rolled his eyes as if what i was doing was completely dumb. The Shiekh tells him to place both his palms in front of himself and keep his fingers as far apart as he could. Then he begins to recite Quran telling Jabil not to move, after reciting for fifteen minutes Jabil's pinky was completely separated from the rest of his fingers. i assumed Jabil had moved them but it was the Quran being recited on him. He trembled and tears fell down his face during the recitation. One by one they fell from his face even though he kept a stoic expression I knew he was in pain.

 the shiekh explains to me that this was a sign of sihr, he jots down a list of dua best for this type of sihr and advises us to read surah al baqarah every day. i look over at Jabil who conceals all his emotions. The Shiekh tells us how the more he recites the adkhar and surahs listed the more he will be able to dream or reminisce who did the sihr to him or at least have an idea where it's hidden.

on the way home i clench his hand and firmly look him in the eyes, it's going to be alright, I whisper. that we'll get through this together like everything else we've gotten through, I add. he doesn't reply and turns his back to me 

At night i tell him to lay down and place his head on my lap while I recite over him, he would fall asleep or lose focus, if i wasn't so worried about him i might have fallen asleep as well. it seemed impossible to finish the whole thing. we wake up and realize neither of us fully completed it. the next night i was stern about finishing it with him while walking around the room. we got further than we did the night before.

we repeat this process in an ongoing cycle until we both were able to finish the whole surah. his nightmares had stopped but he would lay down sometimes and look in so much pain. 

one night he had a dream of his aunt and when he woke up he explained to me that, in the dream, he saw her burying something but couldn't see further than that. the realization hits both of us. i shouldn't be shocked and yet i am. it's one thing to be evil and Muslim but to use black magic and be Muslim was a different type of evil. How can one stoop so low? It was clear, envy.

Envy,  the cause of mankind's first crime. How can a brother kill another brother? envy. such a rotten seed that many seem to water. envy digs its roots so deep into a human when watered that one is no longer in control but his envy is.

"It's not fair," Jabil says scornfully. "why are we stuck here? why did this happen to me!"

i try to pat his head like i always do but he moves his head away from my palm.

"and what kind of father leaves his son and never comes back? if only he had just come back with all the other dads then none of this would have happened. you hardly talk about him and i never knew him, mama. all i know is a man who left his wife and son and never showed up again. I hate him."

I slap him. i am so shocked by my own actions. it came out of me so suudenly. what is wrong with me? My eyes began to water. I began to feel spikes in my throat. i felt my palm stung as though it was punishing me for what I had done. he places his hand over the area on his cheek that turned red. i immediately regret what i did, i want to talk to him but he clenches his jaw and barges out the room. three hours pass and I'm left with my sickening thoughts thinking about how terrible I must've hurt him. the time he finally shared his feelings with me i slapped him. I hate myself but mostly I'm mad at myself because i know he couldn't have meant what he said. I don't think he hates his father, he's just angry at everything happening. He's still young to handle such a weight on his shoulders. sihr is never something to take lighlty. just because someones pain is invisble to others does not mean it doesn't exist. 

 i walked outside to check up on him, i looked around the house but couldn't find him anywhere. Had he left?

i put on my burka and head for the door, my uncle comes downstairs. "where are you heading this early in the morning?"

i look at the windows and realize the sun was already out. Jabil might have left for school early.

"i was just looking for Jabil"

"don't baby that boy too much he's a grown man already. He can handle himself"

i nod but if baby means to protect and fear danger for him then how can i not baby the one i love? He was my little qamar. i make breakfast for my uncle quickly then wait until he is out of sight to leave and look for Jabil. i take the buckets of water with me to pretend i went to fill them up. i go to his school they should be standing outside reciting the Yemeni anthem. i listen

Repeat. o world, my nasheed, Echo it over and over again

and remember through my joy each martyr and clothe him with the shining mantles of our festival

i remember singing these lines when i was young and would pass by the school on purpose only to listen to the anthem, how easily the word martyr used to slide from my tongue. It wasn't easy anymore, not when it's someone so dear to me.

i don't find Jabil amongst them and hurry to the souk. i find two young boys stealing from one of the merchant's carts. it was Jabil. ya Allah I wish I had died before seeing a day when my son is harami.