A Bromance Gone Wrong
12th- and 13th-Century Arabic Letters
When I first presented, in English translation, some examples of private letters written by male writers from 12th- and 13th-century Maghreb (Morocco) and Andalusia (also known as “Muslim Spain”), some modern readers were quite surprised by their emotionality. When I first got in contact with these letters right before embarking on my PhD-studies, I — as a modern reader located in the West—was also touched by the heightened emotions that these pre-modern letter writers managed to create in their correspondence.
In the Arabic art of writing letters, we find a distinct genre called “brotherly letters” (Ar. al-ikhwāniyyāt). Without going into the clearly gendered nature of the term, which in Arabic actually is feminine, these letters may present us with images of masculinity and male friendship that challenge common stereotypes—especially racial and cultural ones. While my PhD-dissertation ended up being about Arabic private letters from the modern period, the expressivity of the male writers and the intimate nature of their friendships still prevailed in the modern letters.
Since most people love a bit of drama, I thought that I would translate for you some passages from the 12th- and 13th-century letters that illustrates their emotional potency, but in more dire circumstances. In these examples, friendships are being put to the test, and sometimes, almost put to rest. Common reasons for resorting to such behavior are delayed responses, or no response at all, and what appears to be faults found in the other. In the original Arabic text, these letters are written in rhymed prose (Ar. saj‘), which I’ve not dared to emulate in my English translation of them.
Now, without further ado, let’s jump into some 12th and 13th-century drama and hope that the writers of these letters don’t mind us prying into their business.
#1 When a friend doubts you (12th century)
Even if doubt has carried you away,
I have for you, Abu Bakr, nothing but love and languish
Every time a wind from south blows,
hands and eyes are reaching out to you through tears
Ask the wind, if it comes to greet you,
about the heart (for all matters can be verified)
It will tell you the truth about me — and forgive me for its blaze;
for in it you will find the burn of a longing soul
I am disclosing to you nights that I have witnessed and what could well be sincere affection. Yet why do I need to call upon a wind as my witness and establish proof to someone in whom I confide? One who already knows everything that is to know about me. Who hurts when I hurt, and is well when I am well. Yes, my eyes rejoice at the vision of you and all debts will be paid by your encounter. [So] return affection with affection, and requite love with love; as you are true to yourself and requited for your own coldness and warmth. If you languish as I languish, then, we are both doing well. [But] if you — God forbid — stumble upon any doubt, just go ahead and do not explain yourself.
Tell me, is this the character of someone who conceals a pretext or tries to please [you] with false praise?*
Being doubted by a beloved friend hurts, right? Above is a passage from a letter addressed to an unidentified person by the name of Abu Bakr (Abū Bakr). The author of this melancholic letter is no other than the writer and court secretary Ibn Abi al-Khisal (Ibn Abī al-Khiṣāl) (d. 1146), who came from the Jaén province in south-central Andalusia. He lived in Córdoba and Granada and held a high military and governmental post during the rule of the Almoravid dynasty.
#2 I’m gonna show you crazy (13th century)
My dear friend, whose love has nourished me and due to whom — and his father — I have duly suffered. I have realized that you requite good with evil […] As I now write your sentence, you sure drain me. I sharpen your arrow as you aim for my side. I showed you good will, but you mislead me. I asked of you relief, but all along you were backbiting me. So, be careful, you tyrant. I had enough of your meanness and blame.
To which point am I going to endure your unfairness? Even live embers are scorching from your internal wrath. Until when will I make sacrifices for you and bear my annoyance patiently? You scatter as I piece together. You rage as I suppress. You make trouble, while I keep the peace. You lash out, while I abstain.
The time has now come for me to show my onset and raise my arrow. […] You will come to know which coaxer you gained, and which friend you lost—and what you have brought upon yourself. You will wail and turn to your good fortune, but, alas, you will find that is has fallen. You will turn to your sword, but find that it is broken and defeated.**
This angry letter was written to an anonymous addressee by the poet of Maghrebian origin, Ibn Umayra al-Makhzumi (‘Umayrah al-Makhzūmī) (d. 1248), who worked as a secretary for the Almohad caliph in Valencia and Seville. Ibn Umayra also held the position of a judge in various towns, last of which was Ceuta. Of course, the war-like imagery used in this letter is not to be taken literally. One has to keep in mind that, in this style of writing, it was common to speak in metaphors and highly (and I mean highly) hyperbolic language.
To a modern reader, Western or otherwise, the language of these letter writers might seem intense. As for the first example, by Ibn Abi al-Khisal, I’ve had some questioning whether or not it’s a love letter. In fact, such openly expressed affection between men in friendships was very common, and still is to certain degrees in other parts of the world (the Arab world being one such example). Though they might not profess their feelings in rhymed prose and dispatch them in letters anymore.
I’m curious to know what you think of these letter-excerpts. Did anything stand out to you? Did they remind you of something?
[*] Muḥammad R. al-Dāyah (Ed.), Rasāʾil Ibn Abī al-Khiṣāl. Damascus; Beirut: Dār al-Fikr al-Muʿāṣir. 1987: 289–290.
[**] Muḥammad ibn Hānīʾ al-Lakhmī al-Sabtī, Muḥammad ibn Muʿammar (ed.), Rasāʾil Ibn ʿUmayrah al-dīwāniyyah wa-al-ikhwāniyyah. Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-ʿIlmiyyah. 2013: 196–197.
