The Enemies of the Prophet
The Enemies of the Prophet Muhammad, Sheikh Hassan Dyck
She’s calling me, wanting me to come and play with her. I follow and she shows me all around.
People are dressed in the barest of outfits and I can tell they are “natives” of somewhere I’ve
never seen. She tells me her name and asks mine. She smiles a lot. Her hair is a deep brown, as
is her skin. She is barfoot.
She tells me that our spirit moves about while we dream and that is how she is able to visit me.
This is how we can play. She has a happiness and an innocence I can’t quite comprehend and I
can tell she is very loved.
Some nights, the grownups are dancing. They have a chant, and I hear it so many times it is
permanently inscribed into my brain. In English, it sounds like, “Os banjee, o cosemblante.”
They sing it over and over as they dance around a fire and I get the feeling it is some kind of