He respected his superior. He was under
obligations to him. His ire had disappeared as soon as it had
been expressed. He submissively entreated forgiveness; but in vain.
Sherif felt that some sort of discipline must be maintained among
his flock. He had connived at disobedience to the divine law.
All the more must he uphold his own authority. Rising in anger,
he drove the presumptuous disciple from his presence with bitter words,
and expunged his name from the order of the elect.
Mohammed went home. He was greatly distressed. Yet his fortunes were
not ruined. His sanctity was still a valuable and, unless he chose
otherwise, an inalienable asset. The renowned Sheikh had a rival - nearly
as holy and more enterprising than himself. From him the young priest
might expect a warm welcome. Nevertheless he did not yet abandon his
former superior. Placing a heavy wooden collar on his neck, clad in
sackcloth and sprinkled with ashes, he again returned to his
spiritual leader, and in this penitential guise implored pardon. He was
ignominiously ejected. Nor did he venture to revisit the unforgiving
Sheikh. But it happened that in a few weeks Sherif had occasion to
journey to the island of Abba. His former disciple appeared suddenly
before him, still clad in sackcloth and defiled by ashes. Careless of
his plain misery, and unmoved by his loyalty, which was the more
remarkable since it was disinterested, the implacable Sheikh poured forth
a stream of invective. Among many insults, one went home: 'Be off,
you wretched Dongolawi.'
Although the natives of the Dongola province were despised and disliked
in the Southern Soudan, it is not at first apparent why Mohammed should
have resented so bitterly the allusion to his birthplace. But abuse by
class is a dangerous though effective practice. A man will perhaps
tolerate an offensive word applied to himself, but will be infuriated if
his nation, his rank, or his profession is insulted.
Mohammed Ahmed rose. All that man could do to make amends he had done.
Now he had been publicly called 'a wretched Dongolawi.' Henceforth he
would afflict Sherif with his repentance no longer. Reaching his house,
he informed his disciples - for they had not abandoned him in all his
trouble - that the Sheikh had finally cast him off, and that he would now
take his discarded allegiance elsewhere. The rival, the Sheikh
el Koreishi, lived near Mesalamia. He was jealous of Sherif and envied
him his sanctimonious disciples. He was therefore delighted to receive
a letter from Mohammed Ahmed announcing his breach with his former
superior and offering his most devoted services. He returned a cordial
invitation, and the priest of Abba island made all preparation
for the journey.
This new development seems to have startled the unforgiving Sherif.
It was no part of his policy to alienate his followers, still less to
add to those of his rival. After all, the quality of mercy was high
and noble. He would at last graciously forgive the impulsive but
repentant disciple. He wrote him a letter to this effect. But it was now
too late. Mohammed replied with grave dignity that he had committed no
crime, that he sought no forgiveness, and that 'a wretched Dongolawi'
would not offend by his presence the renowned Sheikh el Sherif.
After this indulgence he departed to Mesalamia.
But the fame of his doings spread far and wide throughout the land.
'Even in distant Darfur it was the principal topic of conversation'
[Slatin, FIRE AND SWORD]. Rarely had a Fiki been known to offend
his superior; never to refuse his forgiveness. Mohammed did not
hesitate to declare that he had done what he had done as a protest
against the decay of religious fervour and the torpor of the times.
Since his conduct had actually caused his dismissal, it appears that he
was quite justified in making a virtue of necessity. At any rate he was
believed, and the people groaning under oppression looked from all
the regions to the figure that began to grow on the political horizon.
His fame grew. Rumour, loud-tongued, carried it about the land that a
great Reformer was come to purify the faith and break the stony apathy
which paralysed the hearts of Islam. Whisperings added that a man
was found who should break from off the necks of the tribes the hateful
yoke of Egypt. Mohammed now deliberately entered upon the
path of ambition.
Throughout Nubia the Shukri belief prevails: some day, in a time
of shame and trouble, a second great Prophet will arise - a Mahdi who
shall lead the faithful nearer God and sustain the religion. The people
of the Soudan always look inquiringly to any ascetic who rises to fame,
and the question is often repeated, 'Art thou he that should come,
or do we look for another?' Of this powerful element of disturbance
Mohammed Ahmed resolved to avail himself. He requested and obtained
the permission of the Sheikh Koreishi to return to Abba, where he was
well known, and with which island village his name was connected,
and so came back in triumph to the scene of his disgrace. Thither many
pilgrims began to resort. He received valuable presents, which he
distributed to the poor, who acclaimed him as 'Zahed' - a renouncer of
earthly pleasures. He journeyed preaching through Kordofan, and received
the respect of the priesthood and the homage of the people. And while
he spoke of the purification of the religion, they thought that the
burning words might be applied to the freedom of the soil. He supported
his sermons by writings, which were widely read. When a few months later
the Sheikh Koreishi died, the priest of Abba proceeded forthwith to erect
a tomb to his memory, directing and controlling the voluntary labours
of the reverent Arabs who carried the stones.
