Nothing Have I to Bind Me

*A retelling based on **The Chosen Highway** by Lady Blomfield. Words in quotation marks are as recorded in that account.*

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Early in 1917, during the war, alarming rumours about conditions in Palestine reached the Bahá'ís in London. Lady Blomfield comforted herself by repeating words of 'Abdu'l-Bahá: "Have you not realized that never in my life have I been for one day out of danger? ... Be not troubled, these enemies have no power over my life, but that which is given to them from on high."

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In Haifa, the Master wished to send a Tablet to the friends in Tihrán, to be copied there and sent on to the Bahá'ís in different parts of the world, who were anxious for news of Him. But none of the friends available had any real chance of getting through. Carrying a letter from Him in wartime, with His enemies watching for any opening, would almost certainly cost the messenger his liberty, and perhaps his life.

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Then an Arab Bahá'í named Haji Ramadan came forward.

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"I implore Thee, O my Master, to accept this service from me. Insignificant am I, and nearly blind, who would suspect me? A humble old man, seventy-five years old. No family have I, my wife is dead, my boys are dead; my property and my shop I have given to my sons-in-law. What money I have left I wish to be used for the poor.

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Nothing have I to bind me to this world, so in perfect freedom I offer this my service. I only, it seemeth to me, have any chance of succeeding as Thy messenger. I pray Thee, accept me!"

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"Thou only are at this time available," said the Master, "and I entrust thee with this Tablet."

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Haji Ramadan hid the Tablet with great care and set out, his heart filled with joy. For forty-five days he walked. At last he reached Tihrán with the news that the Master and His family were safe.

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After resting a while he set off on the return journey, which was even harder. He travelled by way of Kirmánsháh and Baghdád disguised as a pedlar, with gold at the bottom of his bags and letters sewn into the lining of his 'abá. For one stage of the journey he went as an eye-doctor, treating people along the way with a simple lotion of boracic acid. He dared take very little rest for fear of discovery, and kept on, Lady Blomfield writes, "defying fatigue, danger, and the burden of his seventy-five years."

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At the end of the journey he laid the gold and the letters, intact, at the feet of the Master.

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"Behold by what poor and humble children of God are great events served," said 'Abdu'l-Bahá, embracing him.

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After some rest Haji Ramadan set out again on another mission, but he never arrived. No word of what became of him ever reached the friends. From time to time others were sent to look for him, but in vain.

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Lady Blomfield gives the Tablet he carried, dated November 1917.

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It begins: "What though the doors be closed, the roads and the ways barred, and the usual means of communication be no longer existing, yet the streams of union and nearness of heart flow on without ceasing in the ecstasy of spiritual communion." The Master tells the friends that His days are passing in the best of health on Mount Carmel, at the house of Áqá 'Abbás-Qulí, and near the end He writes that Haji Ramadan has been sent with it, "since he only is, at this time, able to undertake the journeyings."

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*This is a retelling. For the fuller account, see **The Chosen Highway** by Lady Blomfield, Part III, chapter IV, "Haji Ramadan."*

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