May 5th, 2020
Old Great Hammamate, Al-Anbia, Prophetsbay, Sultanate of Gharab
17:35hrs, local time
Old Great Hammamate, Al-Anbia, Prophetsbay, Sultanate of Gharab
17:35hrs, local time
It was the twelfth day of Ramadan, with over fourteen-hundred years since the Prophet(PBUH) departed Mecca for Medina. Roughly seven-hundred years ago the verdant shores of Gharab were discovered due to the efforts of Abu Bakr II of Mali, and roughly two hundred years ago had independence been won. Time was importance for a culture that blended the ancient rythmic prayers of Islam, and the blazing pace modernity of this day and age. It meant that every moment needed to be maximized for efficiency, either in the creation of works, the toiling of labour, or the enjoyment of revelry.
There was also, of course, the matter of appointments, and the man was about ten minutes late. Of course, it was understandable-Alanbia was a city that rarely rested, and with iftar having started half an hour earlier, traffic in the Emerald Flower in the New World was even more packed than before. Commuters would usually make their way to the various Mosques and the Old Great Hammamate, where the great fast would be broken communally, and the charitable season of Ramadan attracted many families with their young and elderly to perpetuate the tradition of altruism and connectedness. However, some just simply opted to continue the stringencies of the times and traffic, and returned home to their families for evening prayers, meals, and a more cozy setting than the throngs that entered downtown.
He was ten minutes late, then fifteen, then twenty, but he arrived quickly with suited men who removed their shoes before entering the great mosque. Already the heat of well over a thousand persons filled the room with sound as well, and iftar was well under way. The prayers were already done, and the great communal meal was had, as well as the hammams being under way. Rich or poor, young or old, male or female, Muslims who could volunteer did. Though the spotlight was upon the younger members of society-the precocious prepubescents who were exempt from the fast and the Third Prophetsbay Boy Scout Troop, and the Eighth Fatima’s Young Ladies. They were the ones who volunteered to ensure the vast complex was spick and span, as well as aiding the Imam and his company with the cooking of such a vast feast, who were awarded with genuine thanks, the pride of their handiwork, and tasty sherberts mimicking the dates that the Prophet(PBUH) broke his fast with all those years ago.
Right of the mushallá, where the fresh smell of chicken and rice wafted in was her, the woman the man arranged to meet. As with most couples, the conversation was short and nonverbal, with the young man sliding to allow a few younger children to return home to their parents. The two had been together for a few years, so this mild inconvenience was understood and put on hold until the conclusion of the great confluence of people.
20:43hrs...
As night fully fell in earnest, and tarawih was concluded, the couple made their way out of the great mosque and may be seen in earnest. She was a tomboyish lass of Tupi descent, studying animation and rhetoric at the local university to provide technical expertise to her consummate talent in the arts. He was an atypical dark-skinned dezinen of Mande stock with shining green eyes and a coy understanding of psychology. The first shared a class, then extracurricular activities, then phone numbers, and currently some well earned stillness in his car.
She asked when he could call him “Amir”, he responded that he was “Yusuf, first and always”-for the young Prince of Gharab was still a man in his early twenties. He asked how her own family was, and plans over the course of the month. The two talked or just enjoyed the platonic company of one another...until the question was asked. How long did Yusuf’s father have left? The silence, no longer a comforting respite from the bustle of charity-work was one of uncertainty-or perhaps too much certainty. “I don’t know, Zayna…” Yusuf would finally confer. “The doctors say a few months, or a few weeks. He’s in hospice and…”
And he didn’t know what he would do as King.
He didn’t know if the remaining tenure he had in university would equip him for the politics and legacy of his father-assuming they didn’t just pull him out immediately.
He knew that she loved him, supported him-he couldn’t have been better equipped if he tried...but the future was something unknowable. What about the family he would have with her, his own future, his career…
Silence and softness were all that remained. As the car drove Zanya to her home, as it carried the young Prince back to his own abode, and the starlight still danced beyond the glow of the city.