Allah is not obliged

 

“Allah is not obliged to be fair about all the things he does here on earth” says Birahima, before and after narrating a story that sees him end up a child soldier in multiple warring factions, brush with death repeatedly, and on at least one occasion, become a victim of sexual assault. It is his refrain throughout the book titled “Allah is not obliged”. The narrative is not particularly religiously inclined. The disinterested ‘Allah’ could just as well be another. What does it matter when referring to their lack of obligation anyway. The reason for this rationalization about Allah is self-evident in the novel. A benevolent god might look out for you, a cruel one might punish you in particular. But it is an indifferent, ‘un-obliged’ god that just lets life happen to you, and lets people hack each other to death without consequence.

The narrative is peppered with a number of refrains that Birahima keeps saying, evocative, almost, of ‘Brutus is an honourable man’. One is also reminded of Holden Caulfield at times during the novel, but Birahima’s sardonic resignation is graver and more total. He has witnessed (and presumable partaken in) incredible cruelty. He refers to himself as both blameless and beyond redemption. Almost everything he deals with is not something a child his age should be encumbered with. But Allah is not obliged to be fair about these things.  

I remember a quote from The Stranger about man being able to get used to anything. It might be something Mersault remembers his mother saying in prison. I have also seen a similar sentiment attributed to Dostoyevsky, maybe from the House of the Dead. They are right. Man can come to terms with anything. Like that meme of a guy visiting a girl’s apartment for the first time and remarking “damn b****, you live like this?”

During Christmas 2023, I was part of a small group of students ‘stuck’ in Leiden while everyone went away on holiday. We were shown around frat houses in the city by someone from the University’s well-being team; she happened to be a frat-house veteran herself. One of the party halls we entered was nearly impossible to breathe in owing to stench of beer on old wood. By her account, the odour had had over a century to take shape. While everyone on the tour turned into temporary mouth-breathers, our guide continued her narration unfazed. “I don’t smell anything out of the ordinary, to be honest”, she said. She was used to it. You can get used to anything.

In this city that is polluted like no other place in human history, people have the habit of sitting around log fires in the evening. The smell of incomplete combustion spreads in every direction, worsening conditions in a city already choking from the smoke. My solution is to shut every orifice and sit next to the air purifier, but people spend all evening sitting by that fire. You get used to anything.

Birahima mourns specific events in his ordeal. There are deaths that make him cry, other cruelties that make him feel pain. Finding out about the passing of his aunt – one he never met – brings him to tears. But he does not lament his general fate. Perhaps he does not know to; he has not acquired the vocabulary to express discontent at the fact that life is unavailable to him. He does not know to mind how unfairly life treats him. But is he unaware of the unfairness? If Allah is described as not obliged to be fair, it is because Birahima perceives unfairness. It is because he cannot explain to himself why blameless fearless Birahima falls from misfortune to misfortune. This is, nevertheless, a quickness in accepting his fate that cannot be expected of adults harbouring hopes and dreams.

I spent most of reading time at the back end of last year on Dostyevsky. It was motivated for the most part by that Baldwin quote about how Dostoyevsky makes you realise the things you are going through today are not that different from what people were suffering a hundred years ago. “This is a very great liberation for the suffering, struggling person, who always thinks that he is alone. This is why art is important,” says Baldwin. As someone who lives through life expecting and treating most unwelcome experiences (and they are mostly unwelcome experiences) as penance, I found myself relating deeply with Dostoyevsky’s characters. As one of the last great conservative intellectuals, it is very clear from his protagonists that his idea of how one might live is inextricable from suffering. This suffering often appears to be in service of a calling greater than oneself, but I think one could be forgiven for thinking Prince Myshkin believes meaning inheres in suffering. He certainly thought himself obliged to suffer. I would argue he thought it increased his virtue. And he (not unlike myself), would be unable to articulate why so much penance was due. What made him start from a diminished sense of self-worth? I think I can answer for myself; I can theorize, at least. I am a collection of ‘lesser than’ identities. Whenever I am Indian, I am punished for it. Whenever I am Muslim, I am punished for it. Whenever I am Muslim in India, I am punished beyond measure for it. A name and papers that will follow me without my ever having asked for them. But Allah is not obliged to be fair about everything, and to quote poor Birahima “The same goes for me. I’m not obliged to tell my dog’s-life-story. So I’m going to stop for today.”