Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Confessions of an Idolater
The old Somali man from down the street doesn't speak much Arabic; neither do I. But it's our only language in common.
'Eid mubarak, I wish him, going past: Happy holiday. In the Islamic calendar, today is 'Eid-al-Adha, the Feast of the Sacrifice.
He looks as surprised as I would be if he were to wish me a good Samhain.
He quirks his head.
“Are you Muslim?” he asks, dubiously. Funny, you don't look Muslim.
I laugh. I don't know the Arabic word for “pagan.”
(Looking into it later, I find that, as among Anglophone pagans, there's no agreement among Arabic-speaking pagans—of course there are Arabic-speaking pagans; there are pagans everywhere—on what to call themselves. If it were me, I'd say hanîf, the Arabic cognate of the name by which the Aramaic-speaking pagans of the Mesopotamian city Harran, where the Old Ways survived well into the 11th century, called themselves. But, of course, I don't really get a vote here.)
“No, I'm an idolater,” I tell him.
Shirk—polytheism—is one of the worst sins in the Islamic book. It literally means “partnership”: one who claims that “God” has a partner, or partners. Mashrikûn is one who commits shirk. Hey, I'll wear that shoe; it fits, well enough.
He laughs.
As-salâmu aleikum, ya mashrikûn, he says, climbing into the car: Peace be upon you, O idolater.
Wa-aleikum as-salâmu, I reply.
Above: Bronze, Sabaean culture
Temple of Awwam, Yemen
ca. 500 bce
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