I watched out the window with complicated feelings, ideas, and the world-circling my head. My turn is coming soon. In a few days, I would be announced as Khalifa (Caliph) of the Islamic world. Everyone loved me and elected me. But the troubles circling my head gave me another theory. I had good manners. I was one of the best fighters in our army. I had memorized the whole Qur’an (Muslim’s holy book) and could understand it word for word. I prayed five times a day. I paid my alms tax once a year. I fasted in the month of Ramadan. And even though I had been a young man, I had been sincere in my faith and went on to perform Hajj (pilgrimage to Makkah) a few years ago.

A few days would just be the beginning of my journey. I had so many great characteristics. But it came to me, that I wasn’t acquainted with the people outside the wealthy. I had been among the Khalifa family for years. I had been among the wealthy; Had never seen a blink of poverty in my life. But I wasn’t unaware of it. Meetings and discussions with the Khalifa and his advisors informed me of this obstacle. My uncle who was the Khalifa had recently died. It was my turn to do what was right.

This was what was troubling me. I needed to meet the others. Those who would really know what needed to be improved. I needed some sort of disguise, or else I would be unable to have an eloquence with them. I walked toward my father. “My dearest father, I need to talk about something.”

“Go ahead son, what’s troubling you? You’ve been staring at the world for quite a while now.”

“I…I realized that I know no one outside the wealthy. I need to know people of the middle class and those who are in poverty. So I can make their lives better for them. They’re the ones who know what needs to be improved the most.”

“You’re right son; How do you plan on doing this?”

“I pondered that I could disguise myself as a middle-class man to meet those of the middle class, and disguise myself as a poor man to those of poverty.”

My father stayed silent for a moment, “Son, I think you should disguise one at a time. If you do both in one day…it’ll look suspicious. Perhaps you could meet the middle-class tomorrow, then take a few days off and meet the poor the next day.”

“You’re right, father. I’ll go get my disguise ready…”

“Wait a minute; We’re not done here. How do you know no one will recognize you?” I stood in deep thought. I had no idea what I would do if someone did, “You’re going to really need to look like someone else. Not only that, bring your great character and money with you. Your kindness will help people open up to you. But just like in every group of people, not everyone is good. You’ll need to carry a weapon just in case. You need to bring your sister as well.”

My fifteen-year-old sister? Who acted like one of the most righteous people at one time and irritated me for her pleasure another? “For what reason father?” I asked.

“Son, I know she annoys you. But you laugh when she does. It’s as if you personally like it. Besides, she might learn something from your trip. Anyhow, that's not the real reason.”

“What is it then father?”

“You’re a young man. Twenty-five now. There will be women you will see on your way. Don’t tell me you won’t fall in love with them. Almost every man looks for love in his life. And if not, that doesn’t stop one from flirting or communicating with women for unnecessary reasons. Your sister will need to be in disguise as well. She will be your chaperone around women, and you will be her chaperone around men.”

My father was right. I needed a chaperone. My mother died when I was fifteen. She wouldn't be my chaperone. Not that I’d want her to be anyway. Besides, it'd be nice to have Inaya as a company, “Alright father.”

“Inaya! Could you come here for a few minutes?” My father asked my sister.

“Yes, my dearest father. What is it?” Inaya said. She was dressed in a nightgown with red roses and pink fabric made from fine silk. She wore gold hoop earrings and a gold necklace. Her gorgeous black hair fell down her back and matched her coal-black eyes and glossy lips. I started to worry if it would be a good idea to bring her. One it would be difficult to disguise her, and two a lot of men would lust for her. But I knew my sister, she knew how to deal with them. We’d be fine God-willing.

“Ahmed is going on a trip tomorrow to check on the lives of the middle class. He needs you to go to be his chaperone plus it will be a learning experience for you,” my father said.

“I’d be more than happy, father. Who knows? Akhi might meet someone interesting on the way. I don’t want to miss it!” I stared at her in shock and shook my head. Why did she always have to bring my love life up? There was no one I loved. Couldn’t I just stay single? And she had used the word akhi, meaning ‘my brother’ in Arabic. A rare thing she’d do. Usually, she called me Akh. The Arabic word for ‘brother’.

“Honey look, you aren’t going on a matchmaking trip. This is something serious,” my father explained.

“I know, I know.”

“Well, why don’t you get your disguises ready then we’ll have dinner.” And that’s what we did.

The next day I got up in a flash. I had disguised myself to look like a young man from among the middle class. I checked myself out in the mirror. I wore a gray thobe and a white turban on my head. My black bangs wouldn’t hide. It matched my coal eyes and black beard. On my wrist, I wore a steel wristwatch. I didn’t look very different; I hoped no one would recognize me.

My sister on the other hand wore a black abaya, a black hijab, and a black niqab. I wonder why I thought it’d be hard to disguise her. Well, it was very easy for her to disguise herself. No one would recognize her. Hundreds of women dressed like that everywhere. “Do I look the same?” I asked.

“No, not really. It’s probably because I live with you every day,” Inaya said.

“Alright, let’s go.” We gave our farewell to our father, and our father prayed for our safety. 

We walked toward Al-Fallujah, not too far from here. But at our rate, it would take half the day to reach there without stopping. We stopped at the Abu Hanifa mosque in Baghdad and prayed both Dhuhr and Asr prayers, just fifty-nine minutes from Al-Fallujah. We were almost there.

About an hour later we reached Al-Fallujah. We walked straight into the village. Inaya and I were tired. Panting for breath. Walking in this heat wasn’t the best idea. We should’ve ridden on a camel or a horse. Inaya and I sat under a tree. I shook our water bottle. It was empty, and we had eaten everything we had brought on our way. At least I had some money. But I had brought it to help others not to feed ourselves. I sighed and asked Allah (God) to help us.

A few minutes later a middle-aged man came up to us. “Ya waladi, what are you doing here?” He had asked me: Oh son, what are you doing here?

“We have traveled a great distance on foot and have run out of supplies.”

“Come over to my house I will feed you and your family.”

Inaya and I stood up, and followed him, “May Allah reward you, uncle, for your offer of hospitality.” 

“And may Allah reward you as well ya waladi.” Once we reached his house a woman (I assumed his wife) reached in and took Inaya to a different room. I had forgotten to tell Inaya to not remove her disguise. But it was too late now. I walked into a room where some men were sitting. 

“Assalamualaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh,” I said. I had given them the Islamic greeting which meant may peace and Allah’s mercy and blessings be upon you.

“Wa alaykumusalam wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh,” they replied. The man who had offered hospitality introduced himself as Ishaaq ibn Hussain and gave me a seat to sit down. The other men who were sitting introduced themselves as well. They told me they’d been talking about the new caliph to come. They hoped it would be better than the first.

“What was wrong with the first one? I’m just curious,” I asked.

“Well you see, he was a good man and all; a good Muslim. But…I feel like he never really came to check on us you know. I mean it’s not as if we’re in a bad condition. But there are some of us who are unemployed. Just trying to get on with life with the amount of money we have left. And there are some of us who are employed but don’t have enough money to pay for our children’s education. And there are the rest of us who are employed and have enough money.”

“What do others think about him?”

“Some think like us. Some don’t realize what needs to be improved. Others think this is a test for us and we just need to be patient. Some think that there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“And what do you think about the new caliph?”

“We actually don’t know much about him except the facts that he’s related to the previous caliph, a very good Muslim, and that he’s very young. Honestly, I’m glad that he’s related to him and that he’s a good Muslim because that means that he has good characteristics. I only fear that he might not have enough maturity to rule. But if so many people elected him then it must be for all the best.” I hoped that they hadn’t found it suspicious of me to ask or realize that their new caliph sat right in front of them. It was a good thing they hadn’t asked me my name yet, “Well, what do you think of the previous and new caliph?”

“Well, I never realized until now that the caliph didn’t check on you guys. As for the current caliph. There’s not much I can say. We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

“You know, there’s a village nearby in this city that’s filled with unemployed people. Some find little jobs to do here and there but it’s not enough to have three meals a day. Others can’t find a job at all and can’t feed themselves or their families at all.”

“How far is it from here?”

“Not too far, just a few minutes.” I sat in silence. I’d have to find a different route so they wouldn’t recognize me. After some time dinner came and we ate together. 

Uncle Ishaaq let us stay for the night and the next morning sent us with enough food and water for our trip back. “Ya waladi, you never told me your name,” Uncle Ishaaq said.

I hesitated. Did he know what the caliph’s name was? I decided to tell him, “My name is Ahmed.”

“Ahmed, may Allah keep you safe on your journey.”

“And may Allah reward you for all that you’ve done uncle.” From there Inaya and I walked on our way back to Baghdad.

“They were a really nice family,” Inaya said.

“They were. Did you uncover yourself?”

“Well I had to take my niqab off to eat but I don’t think they recognized me. Did you get any information?”

“Yes. They really love the fact that the caliph is a good Muslim and has good characteristics. But, they feel like the caliph doesn’t check on them. They say that some of them are unemployed. There’s even a village nearby that’s filled with people who can’t eat three meals a day.”

“Did they recognize you?”

“If they did, they definitely didn’t show it.” About sometime in the evening, we reached Baghdad. I spotted a little girl at a pastry stand. She had brown hair that sat on her shoulders and wore a yellow dress. She was pointing to Zlabia. Something like a fried funnel cake dipped in syrup. But the man at the stand was asking for money. The little girl's face was streaked with tears. I looked at the money I still had. I hadn’t used it. I could brighten this girl’s day by buying it for her. I walked toward the little girl and paid for the sweets. I then placed the sweet in her hands and smiled. She looked at me with her mouth open. She hugged me and said shukrun. Which meant ‘thank you’ in Arabic. 

When I turned around Inaya wasn’t behind me. I panicked and looked around me. I finally spotted her and found her speaking to a young woman. Oh, Inaya; Did she realize that Father was probably worrying about us? I tried to get Inaya’s attention and pointed to my watch. Apparently, she’d got the message and walked toward me. “New friend?” I asked.

“Mhmm. I found out she moved here a few days ago. Her father got a new job here in Baghdad so she’s trying to fit in the crowd. That little girl that you made her day was her sister.”

“Didn’t she know that her sister wanted a pastry?”

“She didn’t. She was actually looking for her when she spotted you giving her a Zlabia. Akhi?”

“Yes?”

“I…I think we need to do a better job of disguising ourselves. Your character is known so well around here that…”

“That what?”

“She thought you looked familiar. ”

“Inshallah (If God wills it) she didn’t recognize us.” We reached home and my father embraced us. He wanted to know all about our trip and I gave him the whole story.

About two days before the day of my official day of becoming Khalifa, Inaya and I disguised ourselves as poor people. We wore discolored clothes. Put dust on our clothes and faces and head out. We walked on an isolated path so we didn’t have to worry about anyone coming our way.

Sometime in the evening, we reached the little village. They hadn’t been wrong, these people looked like they hadn’t eaten in days. Well, at least some of them did. Inaya and I sat under a tree. We only had some food and water left. Maybe I could give them something to eat.

I walked over to where the kids were running around. I gave them the food and watched them eat. They seemed so cheerful afterwards with the smile on their faces. I played with them for a while and then followed them home. But the children weren't all siblings. They parted ways. I followed one of them. When I reached their house the mother shut the door in my face. I knocked on the door. “Look, we have nothing to eat ourselves. We have no job. We just pray to Allah to help us and to help the Khalifa realize what’s happening. We can’t give you anything,” and with that, the mother shut the door. 

A young man around my age walked over to me and said, “Don’t worry she has so much hardship it’s hard for her to be happy. But you can come over to my house.” I stared with my mouth open. This man who had no food was still inviting me to his house.

“May Allah reward you for your hospitality,” I said.

“You as well.” Inaya and I followed him into his home. A woman (I assumed his mother) took Inaya inside to a different room and the young man brought me to another. 

“Please have a seat,” the young man said, “I would give you something to eat but I don’t have any food at home either.”

“That’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Hamza, you?”

“Ahmed. Are there a lot of people like that around here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this poor. I passed by a village that didn’t look so poor.”

“Everyone in this village is for all I know. We all pray to Allah to help us and he does help us get by every day with the little food we have.”

“What was she saying about the Khalifa?”

“Uh…Don’t worry about it. She’s just like that.”

“No seriously, I want to know.”

Hamza hesitated, “Well… It’s not just her…We all think that the Khalifa doesn’t take a good job of taking care of us. All of us are unemployed. Mostly because we didn’t get a good enough education to get a good job. Very few of us have lost our jobs. And because of no job. We have no money. And with no money, we can’t pay for necessary items. We just try to live with it.” I stayed silent. I needed to enhance the care of my people. And the first thing I would do was get a job for these people one way or another. “Ya Ahmed, is something wrong?”

“Oh, I’m good Alhamdulillah (thank God), I’m just in deep thought.” We stayed for the night at Hamza’s dwelling and then left the next morning. 

Grrr. My stomach grumbled. I was hungry but I knew there were others who were starving. I should be grateful I got to eat yesterday. “What did you find?” Inaya asked.

“Well, a lot of them are jobless mostly because they didn’t get a good education. Some of them lost their jobs.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I want them to get some sort of job that can support them. And if not that, then somehow give them enough money to support them.”

“I’m pretty sure we didn’t fool them.”

“How come?”

“Hamza’s mother thought I was your slave or something. And when you started to talk about politics she thought you were some spy in disguise and I was your slave or accomplice.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“I told her that we weren’t spies. I was your sister and we were on a journey to Al-Fallujah.”

“Did she ask why we came to Al-Fallujah?”

“No; She still looked suspicious of me though. But it didn’t stop her kindness.” Sometime in the evening, we reached Baghdad. My body ached from all the walking, and my stomach grumbled for food. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday and my body needed something nutritious. I looked at a fruit stand but as soon as I put my hand in my pocket I realized I had no money. I hadn’t brought money with me because it wouldn’t fit my disguise. I sighed and prayed for God to help me.

I heard Inaya gasp beside me. I was about to ask what happened when I heard a scream: “Saeadani! Saeadani!” Help me! Help me the voice cried. I ran toward the voice, forgetting my disguise of a poor man, forgetting that people might recognize my character, forgetting my aches and hunger. 

I broke my way through the crowd and saw the little girl I had helped yesterday coming my way. Not realizing the fact she recognized me and only saw the tears on her face I wiped them and scooped her up: Only hearing her wails “Rajulun sai’un, rajulun sai’un!” Bad man! Bad man!

 I finally caught the mysterious event. There was a man not much older than me who held a firm grip on a woman’s arm. The woman was crying and yelling, “Daeni adhab! Ana la Uridu!” Let me go! I don’t want to. 

The man sweetly said to her, “Marry me, live with me; You’ll live a great life.” The woman tried to break his grip but it was too strong. I jumped a sliced his grip with my hand. At my action, the two of them were surprised and were jumped by my presence. “How dare you do this, you poor man!”

“If I was wealthier would you say how dare you do this, you wealthy man? I don’t think so. But that’s not the point here. I was only doing the right thing.”

“What would you know, she’s my wife.”

The woman’s expression told me otherwise, “Really? I wonder why you asked her to marry you if you were already married to her in the first place.”

The man was speechless but he turned to an irrelevant subject, “Why are you carrying her sister?”

I’d forgotten that she was still in my arms. I slowly put her on her feet. Inaya came to my side and nodded to me. I nodded back at her. It was time we ran out of here. I’d already given enough to take off my disguise. At that moment it all came to me that the woman was the ‘new friend’ Inaya had made yesterday. If she recognized me she didn’t say anything but her expression looked as if she’d matched gears in her head. “Go home and leave the two of them alone,” I said to the man.

“Yes sir,” he replied. I froze, was he making a joke out of me? But his face looked serious. I couldn’t tell if he found respect for me or if he realized who I really was. I didn’t stop to hear what else would happen. Inaya and I ran as fast as we could before anyone could follow our tracks.

Little did I know, the little girl had been sly in her mission to follow us. Once Inaya and I stopped and panted for breath I caught her little steps behind me. When I looked around I caught her following our tracks. She smiled shyly and walked slowly toward me. Once she reached me she said, “My name is Bushra Ali. My father would like to meet you.”

I gawked at her. Did she somehow realize I was going to be announced Khalifa of the Islamic World tomorrow? I sneaked a look at Inaya. She had one of those crazy smiles on her face like the ones she had when she talked about my love life. 

It suddenly came to me what was happening. Oh dear, had they told their father how I had helped them? And now did their father want me to wed his daughter? And what if they knew I was the next Khalifa? Would that count as a factor of what a great man I was? “I…I need to meet my father then you’ll take me to your father.”

“I’ll wait with her, you go,” Inaya said. I ran like lightning to my house. My father smiled and opened the door, but when he didn’t see Inaya he frowned.

“Where’s Inaya?”

“She’s waiting with someone…Father?”

“Yes? Is another problem troubling you?”

“Yes. The day I got back from the middle class, I helped a little girl and that’s who Inaya is waiting with. Inaya also became friends with her older sister at the same time. Inaya also told me that her sister thought I looked familiar. Today when I got back, I helped her sister get away from this man. It seems as so that they’ve recognized who I am. Her little sister was following us home. When I caught her she introduced herself and said her father wanted to meet me. And then, Inaya was wearing one of her oddly flirtatious smiles. And it looked to me as if she understood that the little girl’s father wanted to wed his older daughter to me.”

My father looked incredibly worried but his expression changed so fast to the end of his sentence that he was smiling. Not faking. Those real smiles you see with even their eyes lighting up. Those smiles. I looked at my father stunned. He wasn’t about to agree with my sister now, was he? “Look son, whatever you did was great. May Allah reward you for those actions. But, I really hope that her father doesn’t want to meet you because you’ll become the next Khalifa rather because you’re a good Muslim because you have good character because you love Allah, because you care about so many people. You have love in your heart son. But you don’t show it. Allah knows best why you don’t but I think you're afraid of romance. You will love yourself and other people but that type of love is different than what love for a spouse is. Remember my relationship with your mother?” My father chuckled, “You always looked at us as if we were some newlywed couple incredibly in love. You always looked away as if it was something obscene. While your sister on the other hand enjoyed it and always wished her life to be the same when she grew up. But I think your mother’s death plays a role in your fear as well. After you no longer saw that type of romance, it was like you forgot it. You had closed the door because you didn’t want to worry about it. But I think it’s time you open that heart of yours, son. Let’s go meet her father.”

I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say. Me? Be afraid of romance? It might be true or it might be the fact that I’d never gotten the opportunity. And if I’d never gotten the opportunity then it was probably because my heart had been sealed shut to that sort of love. I sighed and walked with my father toward Bushra and Inaya. She wore that same shy smile and greeted my father with an Islamic greeting. My father returned her with the same.

We followed her to her house. It wasn’t very big it was a normal-sized house. Once I got inside I was shocked by its infrastructure. It was very modernized with its European style. Bushra brought Inaya toward another room, and I turned face to face with her father. He wore a black thobe with a black turban on his head to go with it. He had fair skin and gray eyes. His hair was curly and white. And his beard was like a blueberry bush except it was white. His eyes were narrowed and his bushy eyebrows turned down. His mouth was a firm line and his arms were crossed. 

At the look of him, I jumped back. He’d given me such a bad fright that I thought I was in huge trouble even though I knew I did nothing wrong. At my response, he gave a wholehearted laugh and welcomed my father and me into his home. We sat down on the couch which had many intricate designs. He sat across from us, and introduced himself, “My name is Majid Ali.”

My father smiled in delight, “My name is Amjad Hussain. Our names have the same meaning!” 

Majid's eyes also lit up but he turned back to me, “And son, what’s your name?”

I worried about giving him an answer. If he hadn’t already realized from my father that we were related to the previous Khalifa he would now. And he’d also realize that I was to be the next Khalifa as well. “My name is Ahmed Hussain.”

His eyes bulged out of their sockets and sat up straighter as his mouth opened unintentionally. But his expression changed so immediately that it looked as if it never happened. Instead, he smiled. “Son, I know you’re wondering why I called you. I would like to thank you for making my daughter happy two days ago and helping my daughter free of that man today. May Allah reward you.”

“May Allah reward you as well,” I said.

“You have proved well to me that you’re a good man. Your character is well known in this society. When I moved here, the first conversation I had with my peers was about you. At the time I had no idea what your name was. There was one separate conversation about Ahmed Hussain becoming our next Khalifa and another about a young man who has an incredible personality. Although, even though no one told me. I had a feeling these people were the same person. I talked about you a lot in the house. So much that even my daughters could recognize you because of your character without even seeing you. When my daughter Farah Ali told me what you did and that she thought it was you, my heart jumped for joy. She also told me that you were such a handsome young man and that she’d like to spend the rest of her life with you.”

It came as a shock to me that everyone had talked about me like I was a celebrity even though all I had done was be myself. What worried me was his last sentence. Never had I ever known anyone would have feelings for me that way. In a way, I was afraid of it. I didn’t know why. My father squeezed my hand. I breathed in and out. I had to open my heart, and let that fear go. Majid continued, “She told me that the day you’d helped Bushra. So I told Bushra to invite you over to our house. The next day when she went to find you she couldn’t. But she went out again today with Farah but then that whole thing happened but you came to the rescue and she found you. So she invited you over to our house.”

I wouldn’t have called her sneaking up behind us an invitation but I guessed she was too shy. “You’ve been so quiet. We already know so much about you. Is there anything you’d like me to tell you about Farah?”

“What is she like? Does she have a good character?”

“Farah is a good Muslim and is firm in her faith. She has memorized the whole Qur’an and can understand it word for word. She prays five times a day. Pays her alms tax, fasts in the month of Ramadan and has performed Hajj. She has a very sweet and loving nature. She seems very shy but she has a very social nature once you get her talking. She also visits a tiny village in Al-Fallujah with many poor people in it. She feeds them and gives them company for a whole week every month.”

I smiled, she was a good woman. Someone I’d prefer. But the fact that Farah thought I looked familiar, did she see me at Al-Fallujah? “When was her last visit?”

“At the beginning of the month.” 

Alright, then Farah hadn’t recognized my physical appearance then. There was nothing more to ask. But I didn’t feel any romantic love going on in my heart. Maybe we were the wrong match? I met eyes with Majid. He looked like he was expecting me to ask another question. But I didn’t have any more. But my father asked me one instead, “Son, don’t you want to know anything else?”

“No.”

“You don’t want to see her physical appearance?” So that was what Majid had expected me to ask. I didn’t really know how to answer that question.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

Majid took it as a yes and called for Farah, “Farah? Could you come here?”

I immediately cast my eyes down. Even though I knew it was okay to see her since we might get married I felt like I shouldn’t. I slowly looked upward to realize she was there still covered except she wasn’t wearing her niqab like she usually did. I studied her face. She had thin brown eyebrows and gray eyes. She too like her father had fair skin. On her nose she wore a gold nose ring and following that she had pink glossy lips a thin upper lip and a full lower lip. My facial expressions must’ve been changing because everyone including Farah smiled at me. And that’s when I saw her smile. She had those white perfect teeth. Her smile made my heart thump rapidly and her smile was so contagious that I could feel a smile on my face and had no control over it. I turned away in embarrassment and I tried to cover up my tomato face, but they all saw how red it was. I then spoke, “I ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.” Farah scurried back to where the women were seated and everyone cheered. 

That very night we had our Nikah. It was when we exchanged vows and then officially became husband and wife.

The next day I was announced as Khalifa of the Islamic World. I did what I first wanted to do. I found people who needed jobs and gave it to them. For those who needed an education, I provided them with money and let them study. I improved better living conditions for them as well and made it easily accessible to live in the city instead of the outskirts of it.

I thanked Allah for all he’d given me. I don’t think I’d ever been happier in my life.