The Caliphate by André Gallo (books to read for 13 year olds .TXT) 📕

glasses. The table was set for two with baccarat wine glasses, a formal setting of silverware and dishes in rich gold and red design. She sat down puzzled by the absence of food smells. Steve went to the kitchen and soon Kella heard the noise of a dumbwaiter. Steve came in carrying two plates, each with six oysters on the half shell set on shaved ice. He put them down and plates and took a paper from his pocket, which he folded in half and placed in front of Kella. It was the menu: Belons Mignonettes, Duck a la Bigarade with potatoes Parisiennes, Salade Frisee, Plateau de Fromage, and Mousse au Chocolat.

     Kella looked at Steve, dumbfounded.

     “Okay, okay,” he said. “I have a confession to make. No, I’m not a world-class chef. A student at the Cordon Bleu school works here in return for a place to stay. I’m doing my best to give him some practice.”

     He smiled at his own humor. He poured the Vouvray to accompany the belons, and later there would be a six-year-old Gevrey-Chambertin for the duck course, and a twelve-year-old Chateau Potensac with the cheese. He knew he would have to dig deep into his pocket to replace the wines he was borrowing from his host’s wine cellar.

     Steve had a sip of his wine and said, “You don’t have to talk about yesterday if you don’t want to, okay? You look worried. We’re surrounded by Paris’s finest. You met them at the door. Let’s just enjoy the dinner. This is the best wine I’ve ever tasted.”

     “Okay, but I just want to tell you one thing.”

     She got up from the table to get her purse on the sofa and came back, digging around in her purse.

     “This afternoon I found my notes from a seminar I attended a couple of months ago on Sharia Law in the twenty-first century. I read them over because I want to make sense of Faridah’s murder, I guess. I know I’ll never really understand, or accept it, but maybe I can get some insight into the thinking that provoked it. The speaker was a Salafist born and raised in Belgium.”

     Steve was surprised.

     “Belgium? I bet I know him, Tariq al Khalil, right?”

     “You’re right! Wow, that’s an amazing coincidence.”

    She fiddled around in her purse, as though distracted.

     “But go ahead. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Later, I also have an al Khalil story.”

     At last she retrieved a notebook.

     “Let’s see. Al Khalil, al Azar University in Cairo and the Université Libre de Bruxelles, where you must have known him. He was, in my memory, supremely self-confident to the point of arrogance—not a hint of uncertainty about him.”

     She looked up.

     “I remember the way he looked at his audience; it was almost mesmerizing―like a snake hypnotizing its prey.”

     “Well then, it’s definitely the same man I knew!”

     “He stressed a couple of key points.”

     She tapped her page where words were dramatically underlined.

First, regardless of time and place, Islam is Islam, given to the Prophet by Allah and immutable. Any changes are treasonous and constitute apostasy, or takfir.

“So, I guess that all interpretations over the last thirteen centuries are out the window. And the last thing they want is a discussion over the reliability of this particular version of the Quran as the word of God.”

     “Exactly! Then, if being a good French citizen leads to being a bad Muslim, being a good French citizen is unacceptable. Here is a quote: ‘We are under constant pressure to reform, to modernize, and I can understand this impulse. But the answer is not the modernization of Islam, but rather the Islamization of modern life. Islam is the answer.’”

     Steve was actually paying little attention to the duck with orange trimmings Benjamin had spent hours preparing.

     “Since Islam can’t change, it’s up to us to change? So we should all accept Islam, just like that? Not a lot of flexibility. By the way, ‘Islam is the answer;’ that’s a Muslim Brotherhood slogan.”

     Kella nodded and shifted in her seat.

     “Someone asked about the oppression of women in Islam. His answer was that Islam has actually been in the vanguard of equality for women, that the Quran has raised them to full status. He quoted from a Sura, 33:35. I meant to look it up. Then, and this is why I had to find my notes today, someone else asked ‘If women and men are equal under Islam, would it be all right for women to kill their husbands or fathers if they commit adultery the way that men can commit honor killings upon women suspected of having been unchaste?’”

     “That must have hit home.”

     She had an oyster before continuing.

     “He almost lost it. He was trying to see who had asked the question. He said, ‘you should look at your own society, which debases women by using their bodies to sell cars, to sell anything.’ Frankly, he was scary. Finally, he said that what Westerners call democracy is insulting to Allah and to all Muslims. And then he turned and left the room.”

     “I don’t think I understand why. Do you?”

     “Well, since our laws are man-made and not straight from God, our laws aren’t worth the paper they’re written on. Any law other than God’s is an insult to God. Right? I’m glad that I don’t have to live in his world.”

     Steve took their dinner plates to the kitchen and returned with their desserts.

     “So, how do you like my going away dinner so far?” he asked. “How was the duck?”

     “Memorable. I’ll tell my grandchildren.”

     Between bites of mousse au chocolat, Kella said, “Okay, your turn. What’s your al Khalil story?”

     “Somehow, fine food and