The cat was out last night. I think it was Ali's. He was probably at one
of those Muslim things they have during Ramadan even though he's a white guy
from somewhere in London. He used Islam to turn his life around. Now he stays
at home and prays, sometimes hanging around with Pakistani folks. He was nice
to me when I broke my hand and he cooked for me several times. I went round to
his house and we had some good chats, but like all believers, he wanted me to
believe what he believes, and I can't do that because I believe what I believe.
After a bit he stopped inviting me round. I think I was a threat to him and his
lifestyle because I am irreverent, although I will praise Allah out loud
because that's just another name for the Creator.
Or maybe I'm just dull, or smell funny. I might do, because I am anosmic, but I do wash regularly. Mind you, I have not been too regular in changing my shirt since I fell off my bike. I'm currently on a record stint with my highest quality shirt, bought for me in a gesture of benevolence by my estranged wife in Italy. This fine piece of quality linen, complete with designer label, has been keeping out the draughts for nigh-on six days as I write, but don't worry, I will see no one else except through a glass window and tomorrow morning, as you know, is my bath time (with complete change of uniform).
Ali's an illiterate man by his own description. He's learned quite a few
prayers in Arabic simply by rote and he knows what they mean even though he
doesn't understand the language. That's impressive. I think it's a bit random -
I mean the way he became a Muslim. He could just as easily have come to
Christianity if he had met a believer in Jesus at that critical time in his
life. Apart from the fact that this would have removed the language barrier,
allowing him to enjoy the rich English expressions of long ago, and enabled him
to get a good night's sleep instead of getting up at all hours to pray, it is,
to me, a richer tradition simply because the Bible is so much longer than the
Qur'an, which is little more than a pamphlet in comparison. Perhaps it should
be included somewhere in the New Testament under the Book of Muhammad because I
think it's pretty good and, like the Bible, mainly true.
But I think the Bible is the Word of God, because I'm a believer. I can't claim, even with my better literacy and general bookishness, to be an understander. Anyway, I'm probably in good company because precisely who can encompass The Creator in his or her mind?*
It might not have been Ali's cat of course, because it was meowing
outside the door to the opposite block. In that case, had I known, I probably
wouldn't have described Ali at all because he wouldn't have figured in the
story.
It was spitting with rain
and I half-heartedly made those sucking noises that are supposed to attract
cats (which animals I do not greatly care for) but the fellow just glared at me
and seemed ready to streak off across the lawn if I took a step too many.
*For medical reasons, anyone who said 'Steven Hawking' should probably go for a long walk immediately and
have a really good think about things, even if it's raining.
