Adlai - 8. Chapter 8

Cephas picked up the stylus again but surrendering to frustration threw the instrument down on the table. He’d been given a boring and onerous commission to translate the Hebrew Torah into Greek. Translating Hebrew texts and letters into Greek was now his livelihood. Rewarding financially, but very dreary.

I need fresh air. This claustrophobic room is starting to irritate me. I need excitement. No – I crave excitement.

And so he left the Serapeum ⁷⁰ embracing Pompey’s Pillar and, strolling past the small residence that he shared with Amenko, headed towards the harbor. It was a glorious Aegyptian day with a mild temperature and lengthy sunshine. A day for being outside, not inside. Alexandria was a wonderful city with its mixed population of Hebrews, Greeks, and Aegyptians. What insight had Alexander when he decreed that the small fishing village of Rhacotis be the site of a vibrant new trading complex. How the city had grown from such humble origins.

His walk took him past the Museum ⁷¹ where Amenko toiled as a scribe and eventually to the public gardens facing the harbor. He crossed the broad avenue that ran from the Moon gate through to the Canopian gate. As he passed the Forum, he was assaulted by the aromas coming from the varied and spicy food provided by the food stalls occupying the Forum’s surrounds. He would buy something to eat on the way back. But right now, he was just enjoying the view of the harbor and what used to be the royal palace. Now it was the residence of the Roman Prefect, Gaius Valerius.

In the eight years since leaving Palestine he had matured, so at age twenty-four summers he’d grown into manhood. He’d been home to Sepphoris twice and his father had visited him once. Now looking out at the great harbor, he could see a diversity of vessels from Phoenician traders, Arab dhows, naval Trimarines, and smaller trading vessels of many nations. It seemed the whole Mediterranean trade converged on Alexandria. And cosseting all of this was the famed lighthouse on the Isle of Pharos.

What colors, sounds, sights, and aromas made up this wonderful city. But then his musing was interrupted by,

“Shouldn’t you be working and not daydreaming? Or are you so rich that you don’t have to slave like the rest of us peasants?”

Cephas turned slightly and with an embarrassed grin said,

“Hello Amenko. I could ask what you’re doing out of work. It’s not your lunchtime is it? Or are you shirking like me?”

Eventually Amenko broke the silence with,

“I meant to ask this morning whether you had any news about Adlai.”

“No, not yet. But I know he’s sailing back from Hindustan, probably as we speak. I suppose I’ll just have to wait till he contacts me. I know he’s going to land in Berenike but I refuse to travel to that awful place just to wait out. No – I’ll let him contact me.”

“Do you think your father wants you to go live in Berenike and look after his business? I know you assume its Adlai’s task, but what if he refuses? I wouldn’t blame him; after all, I grew up there.”

With a small laugh Cephas turned towards Amenko and replied,

“There you go spoiling my day. Why did you have to bring that up? I’ll worry about it when Adlai gets here. Anyway, I’ve got my own life to lead. I don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps . . . Not now Amenko – Ok.”

“Don’t be a child Cephas. You can’t go on avoiding the issue. Why do you keep hiding your head in the sand? What’s going to happen if both you and Adlai decide to walk away from your father’s business? You’re his son. At least you have to have an alternative.”

And before Cephas could respond, Amenko said forcefully,

“And it best be now!”

Sullenly, Cephas turned back to look at the harbor. Then,

“How high is the lighthouse did you say?”

“About 80 times the height of an average man. And I didn’t say! . . . And you changed the subject.”

“Well, I don’t appreciate being nagged. I don’t want to discuss it right now.”

Just then, their attention was drawn to a group of sailors on a nearby ship. Completely naked they were jumping happily overboard into the water and their laughter and frolicking carried to where Cephas and Amenko were sitting. For a while, they just sat and watched the merriment.Then Amenko stood up and said, in parting,

“Balls! You’ve got to face the problem sooner or later.” And left.

He’s right. I’ve got to make a decision. No, I’ve made a decision. I’m not going to rot away in my father’s business. I can’t. I’m just not that way inclined.

I’ve heard there’s a creature somewhere in Africa that sticks his head in the ground when danger threatens. I wish I could! I wonder where Adlai is now, and what’s he doing.

* * * *

It took several days to make repairs and restore the dhow to ship-shape condition. The experience had left all the crew in a very somber state. The usual frivolity and name-calling was subdued as each man contemplated how close they had been to death. All that remained was awful memories of those moments when it looked like they would all perish. It was an event that many could never forget.

Even Makul admitted that he’d never experienced a storm of such intensity.

During the next day, and the days to follow, the sea moderated to the familiar gentle rising and falling with a steady breeze coming from the south-west. An anxious search of the horizon each evening, showed no sign of bad weather - it was as if the tempest had never happened.

They reached Eudaemon Arabia (Aden) but stopped only long enough to re-provision before setting out on the final leg to Berenike. It was as if the entire crew wanted the voyage to end.

Normal routines returned including bathing. On one such calm day, Makul let the dhow drift while the crew attended to their necessary ablutions. Adlai and Makul, having finished their cleansing, were relaxing and letting the sun dry their bodies. The second watch, including Farhan, was overboard bathing.

It was a merry and relaxing time. Adlai was stretched out on the deck with his hands behind his back enjoying the sun’s rays while Makul sat with his back against the railing.

Here I am stretched out naked in front of another person and not even thinking about my nakedness. I surely have changed – for the best.

“Madhul, I don’t mean to intrude but I’m surprised that you’re a Buddhist. I mean, you come from Hindustan where the main religion is Hindi – but here you are a Buddhist. How come?”

With a grunt Makul replied,

“Lad, I don’t like to talk about religion. It has a habit of souring a good friendship. I leave religious matters to those lazy, cock-sucking priests.”

Grinning, Adlai raised himself on an elbow and replied, “You have a colorful way of putting things Makul. I tend to agree with you, but I’m still curious, if you don’t mind discussing religion. You see, I met with a Buddhist monk in Minnagara and he explained to me the basic teaching of Buddha. I must confess interest.”

“Why? A young man such as you should be only interested in chasing pussy.”

Although this was delivered with a scowl, Makul had laughter in his eyes.

“True enough,” Adlai sighed. “But I like to exercise my mind as well as satisfying my physical needs. Seeing you’re reluctant, let me tell you what I know.”

To make himself more comfortable, Adlai changed his position so that now he sat with his back leaning against the railing – the same as Makul.

“Well, what I know is that about 500 years ago, a prince named Siddhartha Gautama began to question his sheltered, luxurious life in the palace. He left the palace and saw four sights - a sick man, an old man, a dead man, and a monk. These sights are said to have shown him that even a prince cannot escape illness, suffering, and death. The sight of the monk . . .”

“Wooa . . .” interrupted Makul. “You don’t need to swamp me with all that nonsense. Just keep it simp . . .”

“Just let me finish will you. I’m trying to sum up all I know. Don’t interrupt.” And then Adlai continued,

“The sight of the monk told Siddhartha to leave his life as a prince and become a wandering holy man, seeking the answers to questions like ‘Why must people suffer?’

‘What is the cause of suffering?’ He spent many years undertaking many religious practices such as praying, meditating, and fasting until he finally understood the basic truths of life. This realization occurred after many days, in deep meditation. . . .”

Adlai was interrupted by Makul discharging a long and satisfying fart – and smiling evilly.

Ignoring Makul’s coarseness and taking a swig of his wine Adlai continued,

“There are three noble truths, four universal truths, and . . .”

“Stop!” pleaded Makul. “Stop there. For one thing, you’ve got things backward. There are three universal truths and four noble truths, but I leave all that mumbo jumbo to priests. Buddhism to the person means just this. There are five simple guidelines to follow. Firstly, don’t harm or kill any living things. Secondly, don’t take anything unless it is freely given to you. Thirdly, try to lead a decent life. Fourthly, don’t tell lies or place judgment on other people. And finally, don’t abuse drugs, including alcohol.”

Makul paused to wet his thirst. He glanced at Adlai and was pleased to see the lad showing interest. He let the moment of silence grow, and letting his words be absorbed before continuing,

“Do you have any questions?”

Adlai paused before asking,

“Look, the main difference between Buddhism and other religions is that there is no god looking down and being an arsehole. Telling you what you can or can’t do. No! Buddha teaches that we’re all subject to suffering in our lives but it’s how we respond to that suffering makes us better - or worse - persons. We all know right from wrong. Just follow what you believe to be right. Don’t inflict your suffering or prejudices on other people. Questions?”

“No . . . well, yes! I mean it’s too beautifully simple. It’s just common sense. Our ten commandments are very similar. Except we have a god looking down on us and judging our very lives. I think I like Buddhism better. I’d certainly like to know more. Who can I talk to?”

“I’ll give you that name of a holy man in Alexandria. He’s a good communicator, and won’t burden you with any unnecessary crap. But aren’t you afraid your own people will be enraged to find you delving into another belief?”

“Well, let them try and judge me. As Buddhism says . . .”

Adlai was interrupted by a cry of “Devilfish! Devilfish! Quickly, quickly. Get out of the water. Hurry.”

The same panicked cry was taken up by the crew on deck, so that the cry of ‘devil fish’ resounded all along the deck.

Adlai and Makul rushed to the side and there, just beyond the last swimmer was the unmistakable and menacing fin of a large shark slicing through the water towards the swimming group. Adding their voices to the cries of alarm all they could do was watch in horror as events unfolded.

Absolute panic and fear had grabbed the swimmers and there was a mad scramble to get back on board. As was wont in these situations the strong pushed aside the weaker swimmers leaving the smaller members to frantically strive to get out of the water.

One of the smaller swimmers had been furthest from the boat, and was the last of the group trying to get out of danger. As the crew on board watched, one moment he was swimming frantically for safety and the next – brought to a sudden stop. The shark had struck and grasped his small body in those dreadful jaws. The creature could be seen as the animal turned on its side, exposing its white underbelly.

Horror gripped the crew as they watched as the victim was suddenly propelled to his right. His eyes stared with horror and disbelief - his mouth open in a silent scream. It was young Hamal.

And then he disappeared beneath the waves leaving only a spreading pool of pink-stained ocean.

Then from the horrified silence came the most frightening scream that anyone had ever heard. It was Farhan. It was a cry so primitive – a cry of pain, despair, horror, and anguish. There were no words – just a gut- wrenching, unintelligible blur of sound. Of inconsolable grief. Soon, mercifully he fell silent and collapsed.

And nobody could either move or speak. It was a tabloid frozen in horror.

A dark mood descended upon all the crew, and in the days to come, they went about their duties quietly. Makul assigned as many menial tasks as he could to keep the men focused on daily shipboard routine. But no one could forget.

Farhan had regressed into a place of darkness and could no longer assume his duties as first mate. Adlai stepped into the breach on the insistence of Makul. Everyone wanted this voyage to end. It was as if completing the journey would erase all the bad memories of the crossing. Several days out from Berenike, Farhan made an appearance but he was only a shadow of his former ebullient self.

Adlai, remembering his travail at the start of the journey, had some empathy with Farhan but he could not insult Farhan by saying he understood how Farhan felt. Hamal’s death was too horrible – and too personal. But the night before they were to enter the harbor at Berenike he managed to take Farhan aside – just one on one.

“Brother, I wish I could give comfort to lessen the pain you are experiencing. One thing I do know – you need to talk. Bottling up our emotions only serves to make our pain more unbearable. Please tell me to go if I’m intruding on your grief.”

“No, no Adlai, please stay and talk with me. I’m a lot better now. Although when I . . .”

Here Farhan choked up and couldn’t say anything for a few moments. Finally,

“Sorry. I can’t help remembering. He was so young. Brave and young. Now I’ve got to tell his parents about his death. I’ll not say how he died. No - I can’t tell them that.

“I agree. Make up something that is comforting. Perhaps being swept overboard during the storm and being brave by going up the mast. As is always, sometimes the truth is too hard to bear. Sometimes it’s better to lie.”

. . . h’mm. I must put that scenario to Makul. As a practicing Buddhist, would he tell Hamal’s parents the truth?

“I’ve told Makul that I’ll be leaving the ship at Berenike. He understands. Perhaps I could travel with you to Alexandria. I can then take ship back home. Would that be Ok? Please tell me if I’m intruding on our friendship.”

Wordlessly, Adlai clasped Farhan to him before saying,

“Nothing would give me so much pleasure. You were friend to me when I was in a very dark place so it would give me happiness to help you now. It’s done! Say no more.”

And then Farhan fell silent. Adlai let the silence continue – not wanting to intrude on Farhan’s very painful thoughts. But eventually . . .

“I’ve made up my mind to become a healer and teacher. Not so much as to the physical side of our existence but more towards our emotional health. There is much suffering in this world that is not just of the physical.”

Farhan just nodded but continued his silence.

* * * 

It was an anticlimax when they rounded the mole and entered the harbor of Berenike. Whilst there was relief for the journey’s end there was also much sadness. Hamal had been a very popular crew member and to many old hands he became the closest thing to having a son. Even Makul was subdued.

To most males, saying goodbye is a painful process. And so the farewells were somewhat gruff with emotions being held under control. Makul’s farewell was terse and had the appearance of being unemotional. But inside he was deeply disturbed. Both Farhan and Adlai had become very close to a man who had foresworn emotions long ago.

Clasping both lads on their shoulders, he struggled to keep his feelings under control. All he could say was,

“I’m proud of both of you. You are the sons that I’ll miss for the rest of my days. Enjoy your youth. Get married and have lots of children. And, if you can, spare a little thought for old Makul. Just be careful you don’t catch crabs! – like old Makul.”

Into the ensuing laughter, he pressed a small papyrus into Adlai’s palm explaining this was a good man to learn more about Buddhism. “He lives in Alexandria and you can find him at the address now given. Best of luck to you both.”

And walked away – before the lads could see the tears forming in his eyes.

While watching Makul depart, Adlai heard another voice addressing no one in particular. “I’m looking for Adlai ben Yusuf. Does anyone know of his whereabouts? I’m told he may be a passenger on this ship. Can anyone help me?”

One of the nearest crew pointed in Adlai’s direction and Adlai watched as the young man, obviously an Aegyptian approached. He was of slight, almost effeminate stature, with the brown skin of his race and dominant brown eyes. Approaching Adlai, he asked,

“You are known as Adlai ben Yusuf?”

“I am.”