Written by: Ibn Al Wadi Al Qadeem

Zubaydah, a woman rumored to be a witch, is now pregnant and close to giving birth. No one knows whether the child in her womb is fathered by a human or not. On the day of her birth, the villagers attacked her house and burned it down, killing Zubaydah, the “witch,” and even the woman who delivered her. Only the infant remained crying amidst the flames, which neither touched nor harmed him. To everyone’s astonishment, they fled, leaving the infant to his fate. However, one woman did everything in her power to save the child and bring him out of the fire.

my name YasserI am 30 years old, and my profession is gravedigging. My mother, who raised me, passed away a few days ago, but before she gave up her soul to her Creator, she shocked me with a truth she had been hiding from me for the past thirty years. On her deathbed, she told me that she was not my mother, that she did not give birth to me, but rather raised me since I was young. I asked her, my earth spinning with the shock of her words: “So who is my mother?” She replied heavily: “Your mother is Zubaydah, whom people used to say was a witch, and who was burned to death inside her house.”

It was a huge shock. I wish I hadn't known, and I wish she hadn't told me before she died. I was living a normal life before I heard these words, even though I'm a gravedigger, a profession that requires a strong heart that fears nothing. May God have mercy on my mother, Fatima. I never felt that I wasn't her son. She always sought to provide me with a decent life despite her extreme poverty.

The entire village was suffering from poverty and financial hardship. Even agriculture was scarce, so we had to buy all the produce we needed from the land from neighboring villages. According to what people say, ever since the "witch" and her house were burned, the village has been suffering from famine and drought.

Some say that a curse has befallen the villagers, leaving them living in poverty and hardship. Others say that the witch is still alive and that she sends her servants to rule the village. That's what some people say. But my mother Fatima She assured me that they had seen the witch's charred body, and that she had not escaped the blazing fire. She believed that the drought and poverty that had enveloped the village were the fault of the villagers themselves.

Perhaps she was referring to the shrine in the middle of the village, which people come to visit from all over, with the accompanying polytheistic rituals, prayers, and sacrifices to other than God Almighty. Unfortunately, the shrine is teeming with charlatans and corrupt people. As she used to say, may God have mercy on her soul: “Whoever dies, their deeds come to an end. They will no longer be able to benefit themselves, so how can they benefit others? Whoever asks, let them ask God. Anything less is polytheism and misguidance.”

An annual festival was held at this shrine, coinciding with the winter season. However, whenever the polytheistic season arrived, the sky withheld rain. Glory be to God. Yet, no one took heed of this admonition, nor did anyone forbid this evil, except the imam of the village mosque. But whenever he wanted to speak, the people would stop him, vehemently oppose him, and even threaten him.

The beneficiary of the shrine and its propaganda is the village sheikh and chief. His house was opposite the shrine, and all the money, sacrifices, and gifts brought by the ignorant returned to him. He claims that the person buried in the shrine is his grandfather, a righteous saint, according to his account.

The tribal sheikh was the richest man in the village, along with his corrupt entourage, while the rest of the villagers were drowning in poverty and disease.

Let's go back to how I became a gravedigger: The ground in our village is very rocky and hard, and the axe struggles a lot, so no one wants to dig our graves. This is what happened when we wanted to bury my mother. FatimaWe couldn't find anyone to dig her grave. I was holding back a great deal of anger at the time. I grabbed the axe and started to strike the ground. Surprisingly, it became soft and pliable, as if it were dirt and not rock. Everyone was amazed and decided to assign me this task, the task of digging graves and burying the dead, in exchange for a known fee.

Glory be to God, some are blessed with the living, and others with the dead. In the days that followed, I was digging three to four graves a day. Deaths increased, famine and disease were rampant, and the tribal sheikh was indifferent, even though he could have done much to save lives, at least allowing water to pass through.

There was a running river in the village that divided it into two halves: one half contained the shrine, the house of the tribal sheikh, and his vast land, and the other half where the common people of the village, including the poor, lived. The tribal sheikh dug ditches to collect water to irrigate his land and crops, leaving the villagers to share the meager water that remained, which was not even enough for them or their livestock to drink.

People used to talk to him about water, but he wouldn't pay them any attention and would even reprimand anyone who argued with him too much. One day, the sheikh sent for me, so I went to him. He told me that he wanted me to dig a hole in his land so he could plant a large tree in it. Perhaps he had uprooted it somewhere, I don't know. He asked me to dig near his house, then he went in and left me hammering the axe on the ground.

Suddenly, I heard him arguing with his wife, her voice reaching me. I didn't care about their quarrel, but I stopped digging when I heard his wife say to him, "If you marry another woman, I will disgrace you in the village and tell everyone that the person buried in the shrine is not your grandfather as you claim. Rather, you buried the gold chest there, and you know and I know where you took it from: from the house of the woman whose house was burned down. You killed her and her son on the day he was born. You spread the rumor among the people that she was a witch who affected the men and women of the village with her magic, while she was innocent of this charge. She was honorable and chaste, and you only did that because she refused to marry you and married your brother in secret. When you found out, you killed your brother and waited until the day she gave birth. Then you incited the villagers against her and set fire to her house."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this real? The axe fell from my hand and I lost myself in deep thought. The village sheikh's wife was talking about the same woman my mother, Fatima, had told me about?! What did that mean? It meant that the village sheikh was the one who killed my mother and father as well, and deprived me of them unjustly and aggressively, without justification.

I felt intense anger and a desire for revenge. I picked up the axe and quickly finished digging, then called him and told him the hole was ready. He then ordered his servants to plant the large tree there. Then he handed me some money. I looked at him, thinking I should hit him on the head with the axe and avenge my mother and father, and rid the country and its people of him.

But I controlled myself. I would find another way to take revenge. I thought of entering the tomb and digging for the gold, but that would be difficult. The sheikh had placed a guard at the tomb who remained there day and night, watching all who came in and out. I thought about killing the guard and then entering the tomb, but what was the guard's fault? No, I wouldn't kill him, lest I bear his sin, and perhaps they would catch me and kill me as retribution.

I was confused, so I went to the village imam and told him everything I knew. He was amazed by what he heard and started to chant, “There is no god but God,” then he said to me, “Leave him, my son. This oppressor will receive his punishment sooner rather than later.”

I left the Imam and went to a friend of mine named Hamid Al-Attar, who had been my friend since childhood. He might be able to

Help me with what I intend to do, and as soon as he saw me, he smiled welcomingly, then said to me:

“Hello grave digger, how many graves did you dig today? I think you always pray to God to increase our dead, because they are your livelihood!”

I said to him in disapproval:

“What is this heavy joke? Aren't you sensible? Sit down, I have something to tell you.”

Hamid's expression changed, and he realized that this was serious. I told him what I had heard at the village chief's house. Of course, I didn't tell him who I was or that it concerned me. Hamid continued cursing the tribal sheikh, then said:

“He's been fooling us all these years.”

I told Hamid about my intention to take the gold, and my concern about the shrine guard, and he said to me:

“Don’t worry about the guard, I have medicine for him.”

We agreed to meet at night and go there together. After night fell, I went to Hamid's shop and found that he had prepared a small bottle. I asked him what was inside it, and he said:

“This is a sleeping pill, I will put it in the guard’s food, and he will not wake up until tomorrow.”

Then Hamid let out his mocking laugh. I said to him warningly:

“We have to be careful, if we get caught, it will be the end of us.”

We headed toward the shrine. Hamid was carrying a plate of food laced with the sleeping pill. He handed it to the guard after greeting him. The guard knew Hamid and didn't suspect him. He began to devour the food greedily. After a few moments, he began to sway, then leaned back in his chair, his snoring getting louder.

I turned to Hamid and said to him:

“I swear, if it weren’t for that snoring, I would have thought you had poisoned him and killed him!”

The sedative took effect quickly. I left Hamid by the door and went inside the shrine to dig. I kept digging for about an hour without finding anything. I almost gave up, but I didn't give up. Suddenly, I felt the axe touch something, like a box. I removed the dirt and found it was a large wooden box. I couldn't carry it alone, so I called Hamid to help me.

We looked at each other, perhaps overwhelmed by the shock. We didn't know whether to be happy or afraid of the village sheikh's brutality. I couldn't stop myself from opening the chest, and I was shocked by what was inside: gold coins, precious bracelets, precious stones, and statues of gold inlaid with rubies.

I had brought two bags, filling them to the brim. I carried one, and Hamid carried the other. We went and hid the treasure in a safe place, then we all went home.

The next day, we heard a commotion in the village. I asked what was going on, and a neighbor said to me:

“It is said that someone wanted to dig up the grave of the shrine, where the righteous saint was buried, and it is said that he is a magician!”

I smiled then, knowing that the tribal sheikh was still spreading rumors and superstitions among the common people. All day long, the sheikh and his men toured the village, entering each house and searching them. No one knew what they were searching for... except for me and Hamid.

But they found nothing. I had buried the gold in the cemetery and created a fake grave for it, with an unnamed headstone, like most of the village graves. I was very relieved, completely certain that no one would ever know where the gold was.

A few days later, one of the sheikh's servants came to me asking me to dig in his land. I was in the cemetery at the time, so I picked up my axe and left. I was surprised to find the sheikh's house full of people, including the village chief. Everyone was staring at me, and the sheikh was sitting in the middle.

Suddenly, the presenter spoke and said:

“Where is the gold you stole, Yasser?”

I remained silent, thinking. I had been exposed, and all because of that fool Hamid. As soon as I gave him some gold, he sold it and went to a tavern in the neighboring village. There, drunk and out of his mind, he told some of his companions, who passed the news on to the chief of the tribe. The latter had no choice but to bring him in, and he confessed and admitted that I had taken the gold. Then he gave them the remaining money and gold.

Nevertheless, they tied him up and threw him into the pen, and they did the same to me. They tied my hands and threw me next to him. I swore at him, for his carelessness had led to our downfall.

Moments later, the tribal sheikh entered, anger evident on his face, and said:

“I want to know one thing… How did you know the gold was buried under the shrine? And where did you get the nerve to steal it and then act as if nothing had happened?”

I said to him:

“I didn’t steal, I got my money back…my mom and dad’s money that you stole.”

Hamid Al-Attar was surprised when he heard me, and said:

“What are you saying, you madman? He will bury us in this barn and show us no mercy!”

The sheikh remained silent and didn't comment on my words. He closed the door of the barn and left. I expected him to kill me right then and there, but he didn't. I stayed there with Hamid for five days, and on the sixth day, I woke up to find Hamid hanging, dead.

I screamed:

“Why did you do this to him, you oppressor? Was it for the gold?! If you had asked me, I would have told you where he is, and you would have no need to kill him!”

Then the sheikh said to me:

“Listen, Yasser… Since you are Zubaydah’s son, then you are my nephew… my flesh and blood. And everything that happened was because of your mother and your father. I was the one who wanted to marry your mother, but my brother got ahead of me and married her secretly without anyone knowing. I told my father, so he tied your father up just as you are tied now, then I poisoned him and he died. As for your mother, she insinuated that she was a witch, and spread the word that she was the one who killed your father with her witchcraft. So she incited the people of the village against her, and ordered the house to be burned with everyone in it, even the midwife who helped her give birth.”

Then he looked at me and said, “But how did you survive? I don’t understand. Are you telling the truth? Or are you a fraud?… But it doesn’t matter. Your fate will be the same as your friend’s.” Then he left and slammed the door shut.

“But how did you survive? I don’t understand. Are you telling the truth? Or are you an impostor?… But it doesn’t matter. Your fate will be the same as your friend’s.”

Then he went out and slammed the door.

He left me confused and afraid, not knowing when he would order me to be killed. I could no longer sleep. I imagined my last hour, and I had a panic attack. I heard footsteps approaching. My heartbeat increased. The door opened, and a masked woman entered, her features completely invisible. She walked towards me and silently undid my chains. After I was free, I stood up. I didn't think much about it. It was the hour to escape.

I ran out of the barn and out of the sheikh's house and headed to the imam's house. I told him everything. He remained silent, looking at me, knowing the sheikh's injustice and brutality. Then he said:

“Listen, Yasser… I will gather the people of the village and tell them what you said. Perhaps one of them will awaken from his slumber and stand up to the tyrant once and for all.”

After the Isha prayer on the same night, the Imam stood before the worshippers and said:

“How long will you continue in this state?! Have you grown accustomed to a life of humiliation and subservience?! How long will the village sheikh continue to degrade your dignity? He has taken everything from you…the land, the money, and even the water! He is the one who brought upon you the sin of a woman, and you participated in her murder after a vile rumor was spread in which he claimed that she was a witch, even though she was innocent of witchcraft.”

Then the people became angry and revolted, and they agreed that they would no longer remain silent about injustice.

They got excited and took their sticks and headed for the sheikh's house, but the guards were waiting for them and beat them up severely. Then the people retreated and fled to their homes, while I remained hidden in the imam's house, watching the situation from afar. When I saw the people running in every direction, I knew that the sheikh had sent his dogs after them, and it wouldn't be long before he caught me again, and this time he wouldn't hesitate to kill me. I couldn't sleep that night. I sneaked out and went to the cemetery. There I felt more comfortable than anywhere else, but it was a pitch-black night. There I saw that woman again... the masked woman. She came out to me from among the graves. I stood looking at her in astonishment, then I asked her, "Who are you?" She didn't answer my question, but said, "Just as we protected you from the fire on the first day of your life, we will protect you from the sheikh today, and he will not be able to harm you." Then she turned and walked until she disappeared among the graves in the darkness. I said to myself: “Perhaps she is a crazy woman…”
I leaned down near one of the graves. I was extremely exhausted, and drowsiness overcame me, so I slept until the next morning.
I got up from my seat, left the cemetery, and crept into the village. I heard people talking, saying that the house of the tribal chief had burned down the previous night, and that he had burned to death inside.
I couldn’t believe this, so I walked until I arrived in front of the house of the tribal chief, and found it truly charred. Glory be to God, he died the same way my mother was killed.
I wonder who did this to him? It doesn't matter, what matters is that the grief has been lifted from people's hearts, and there is no longer anyone dominating them with injustice and aggression. I returned to the cemetery to take out the gold, but I didn't find anything... the hole was empty. I found a paper there that said: "If you found this paper, then most likely the sheikh is dead, and the one who took the gold is the leader. I know that this may anger you, but just as the sheikh was oppressive to people, he was even more oppressive to me. I also tasted his evil and harm, so consider that what I took from you is the price... the price of ending the sheikh's life in revenge for your parents and many of the oppressed." I laughed at the time, because I had not expected this ending. I was warning the sheikh, but I forgot about the commander. The important thing is... the era of the tyrant is over, and the time of humiliation and degradation is over. After what happened, the crowds in the village went on a rampage, and attacked the shrine with axes and pickaxes, demolishing it and razing it to the ground. Visitors no longer came to it. The following year was a year of goodness and blessings. The sky rained as it had never rained before in those parts. The river and valleys were filled, and agriculture and farming returned to prosperity. Diseases decreased, poverty decreased, and joy returned to faces, and hope to adults and children. But I still have not yet revealed the secret of that masked woman. I find her and see her everywhere, as if she is following me. And when I tell people that I see a woman and point to her, everyone makes fun of me and says that they do not see anything, that they do not see anyone next to me. Some of them accused me of madness, but I am fully aware that the masked woman accompanies me and watches me, and I am also aware that she is a jinn and lives in cemeteries... among the dead.

Do you think the story is true? Or is it a figment of my imagination, as some of my friends have described? Answer me in the comments.