The Discovery of America by the Turks Read Free Page B

notice—to have some fun, relax (nobody’s made of iron) in the cabaret, bars, a whorehouse. It was his feast day. Jamil and Raduan, the philosopher, never separated, gabbing endlessly, lots of laughs, drinks, polkas, and mazurkas. On nights of greatmerriment, on the streets of Itabuna, arm in arm with Cockeye Paula or some other woman, Raduan would get the urge to declaim in Arabic love poems in which the wine flowed and sultanas danced. Holding hands with Glorinha Goldass as he listened, Jamil was moved to tears.

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    Sitting and resting at the end of the day’s hustle and bustle—oh, so tired!—on the sidewalk by the Itaguassu Emporium, in front of the establishment, his living quarters in the rear, several years after the engagement ceremony, Jamil Bichara laughed loud and hard as he remembered the problems of the deal concerning the small dry-goods store and the danger he had subjected himself to when, advised by Raduan Murad, Ibrahim Jafet had offered him a partnership in the Bargain Shop as compensation for the hand in marriage of Adma, his oldest daughter. The three younger girls were married, for better or worse, but she, cherry intact, sour, crabby, undamaged, more than merely a virgin: an old maid.
    Because of her (and because of the store, a good deal!) Jamil had been in danger of abandoning Itaguassu and his newly established Emporium—prestigious in name only—where he sold flour and beans, cachaça, and sandals. Later on he got to selling both wholesale and retail, supplying the plantations in the region and the inhabitants of the village with a varied stock that went from jerked beef to denim pants, from raw-leather sandals to ladies’ hats and boots, bolts of cloth, spools of linen, needles, hair oil, pictures of Catholic saints and miracle workers. Although a good Muslim of the Shiite sect, Jamil had no religious prejudices when it came to making money. Allah is great, his wisdom is infinite, he can read men’s hearts, he understands and esteems everything.
    The Bicharas, numerous and enterprising, were scattered all through the ports of the Mediterranean and itsadjacencies. They were established in Spain, as has already been noted, in Crete, in Egypt, and in Morocco, going from Libya to Italy, reaching Senegal. A certain Michel Bichara had headed a band of footpads in the French city of Marseilles, ending up on the guillotine. The first to discover America, heading for Brazil, was Jamil. In the annals of the family his name appears next to that of Michel, the brigand of the port city.
    On the day of his departure, before sailing, he went to kneel in front of Mullah Tahar Bichara, his great-uncle, a wise and holy man, a favored disciple of the Prophet, who spoke with Allah during moments of prayer. It was predicted he would soon attain the honors and emoluments of an ayatollah. From him Jamil got a letter of recommendation addressed to their countryman Anuar, sheikh of the tribe of the Marons, who was well established with cacao plantations in the state of Bahia. A letter to the moneybags and prayers to Allah, who would not abandon his son lost in the vastness of America. The mullah would see to it that the name of Jamil would remain in the mouth and ears of Allah and of his prophet Mohammed.
    The letter was indeed valuable, determining for Jamil the choice of the region of southern Bahia. There he had someone to lean on as he began life. Surely the requests of the venerable Tahar would make it possible for the new Brazilian not to feel lost, abandoned in his adopted country, which he must conquer foot by foot and day by day. It is incumbent upon Allah to assist his children at decisive moments, defend them against the temptations of Shaitan, the insidious Satan, point out the right path to them, stop them from committing a great error capable of making them suffer on earth the horrors of hell.
    Allah accompanied Jamil’s steps as his wandering son for a long time when, for the Turk Anuar Maron, he