The Testimony. James Smythe
my books. There was always more to learn. I led a prayer a couple of hours afterwards, and then I got myself ready to go home, locked the office. When I got outside I saw him for the first time, young boy, only eighteen, nineteen, maybe even younger. He had that fur around his face, not like anything you could call a beard or a moustache, but he was growing it. Perseverance in the face of adversity; always made me happy. Assalamu alaikum, I said. Can I help? He said, I don’t know; maybe, I don’t know. You want to have a talk? I asked. He nodded, so I unlocked everything again – this is what we do – and we went back to the library.
He sat in the chair I usually sit in, which was strange, to begin with; but he wasn’t to know. I didn’t recognize him, which wasn’t such a surprise, because he was younger, and it was getting harder and harder to persuade young people to actually come and be a part of their community. Actually, no, persuade is the wrong word, because it’s not like that. Not enough families were actually involving their young. There shouldn’t have had to be persuading. He sat in the chair I usually used – I am hesitant to call it my chair, because it wasn’t mine, but that’s how I thought of it, because it fitted me, because I sat in it every single day – and rubbed his hands together. Who’s your father? I asked him. My father? Why do you want to know? It’s important, I said; maybe I know him, because I can’t place your face. That’s right, he said, I’m not from here. I’m staying here for the week, he said, with a friend. (I forget what it was like, having religion when I was his age. Did I have it? I’m sure I must have, because it was everything to my father. He was an imam in Algeria, if you can believe that, and he came to England when I was only a few weeks old. That changed him, because in Algeria it was just his life; here, it was an uphill struggle, he used to say. God wants you to prove your love, and there is no better place, he said. He fought for this, and then he died. He – I have to be careful about how I say this, because it’s so easily taken the wrong way – he seemed to get a second wind for the fight after September 11th, even though he was so old, his breath failing him. Some days he could barely speak through his breathing, and he still attended every prayer, still staunchly defended our rights. He was in his element. He hated what was done, hated everything about it – I have never seen him so angry as I did in those days after it happened – but he wanted to challenge misconceptions. Is that wrong? He wanted to show that not everybody is capable of what those people did. I was already on my path, but his belief – which was stronger than any love he had, for better or for worse – was inspiring. I read to him from the Qur’an as he died, and I will never have any regrets for that.) Listen, he said, this is not my mosque, right? I’ve come to you because I can’t go there. Why can’t you talk to your friends and family, your own imam? I asked him, and he shook his head. He won’t understand, none of them will. Won’t understand what? I hadn’t sat down the whole time, waiting for my own chair; I sat opposite, because it felt important. This was my fault, he said. This voice, the static. He was crying, shaking; I put my hand out to him, took his hand in mine. Don’t be a fool, I said, we don’t even know what it is. I committed zina, he said, right at the time of the first static. You had intercourse? I said, and he nodded. That’s who I came to see, he said, still crying, a girl. And you think that you made this happen? I would have smiled if zina wasn’t important, if this wasn’t something that seemed to matter so much to him. (And I was pleased that it did mean so much, even if it took something as strange as The Broadcast to make it so.)
You haven’t seen what they’re saying? he asked. On the news and everything, they’re all saying it’s God, actually God. They don’t know, I said, but he shook his head. No, no, you don’t understand, they sound like they do know. It’s God, and He’s here because we sinned too much, and I was the last sin, the last straw. And I said, God inspires those who love Him to sound convinced, because it’s what they believe. But if it is God, a sin like zina won’t be reason for you to be punished. He dried his eyes. But that’s what we’ve always been told, he said, my father told me. People tell others a lot of things for their benefits, I said. But this? We’ll wait and see how this works out, okay?
Peter Johns, biologist, Auckland
Those mentals you see living on the streets, with their thinking that they had a direct line to God, or saying that they were hearing voices? Suddenly, we were all in that same damn boat.
Dafni Haza, political speechwriter, Tel Aviv
Lev called again as soon as it finished, when we were left reeling in the office, attempting to work out what on earth the noise was, the voice was. Somebody told us that it was worldwide, because it was on the news, and I told one of the assistants – who had been working for the government for longer than I had, and knew his way around the ropes a little bit more – to get somebody in the Prime Minister’s office on the telephone, to tell us what was happening. Lev’s call, I ignored. I cancelled it. He could wait. (He left a message, crying, telling me to call, saying that he was worried, but I didn’t think he was worried about The Broadcast, more about what I might have been getting up to.) We had a constant stream of information leaving the office, all coming from the government itself, and we vetted it for language. That was most of our job. But it completely stopped, no messages, no nothing, which meant that one of the other assistants had the press on the telephone, begging him for information. We have to tell the people something, the woman from the news station was shouting – we could all hear her voice carried through the telephone line, echoing out of the handset – so you have to tell me something. I could see the assistant getting upset, so I went over to him, stood next to him to let him know I would take the call. You have to tell the people, or there will be problems, the woman on the other end of the phone shouted, and the assistant, as I reached for the handset, said, We’ll tell you as soon as we know anything ourselves, okay? That was the news story for the next half an hour, how the government, sat there in Tel Aviv, were ignorant, or unwilling to help, or unwilling to provide answers. It wasn’t the assistant’s fault; this wasn’t exactly a situation we were knowledgeable about.
Audrey Clave, linguistics postgraduate student, Marseilles
We got so drunk by the end of it all, even though I was saying we should work. I don’t think I have ever been that drunk in all my life, honestly. People kept coming in from the concourse outside, other grad students, members of the faculty, random strangers, all saying that we should go outside. We’re having a party, they kept saying, and I kept saying, I have to work on this, because it’s important, blah blah blah – they didn’t listen.
Jacques Pasceau, linguistics expert, Marseilles
I told Audrey that she was being boring. She said, Jacques, this is important, and I said, So is making the most of today! Enjoy it!
Audrey Clave, linguistics postgraduate student, Marseilles
I was trying to get on with the work at hand, trying to make sure we had everything covered. I – Look, I believe in God. I believed in God then, so much, because I was sure that it was Him speaking to us. So I wanted to work out what the static was, because if it was important, a message, another language, maybe, that would be crucial. So we kept working, but Jacques kept filling up my glass, and I thought, what harm would a little wine do? We started saying the stuff, the phonetics, out loud, seeing if they resembled anything, and then we recorded us saying the noises, sped it up, slowed it down, tried to see if the software matched anything to any languages, that sort of thing, but nothing was happening. People kept coming in, as I say, and asking us to party, and then other people were coming in and asking us to go and pray with them, but we stayed inside, doing the work (apart from Jacques, who was drinking really heavily). Then somebody ran in, told us to come outside, and we said, No, no, we’re busy, and they said, There’s somebody on the roof.