Monsieur Ibrahim and the Flowers of the Koran

“For it was the general opinion that Monsieur Ibrahim was a sage. Probably because for at least forty years he had been the only Arab in a Jewish street. Probably because he smiled a lot and said little. Probably because he seemed untouched by the usual commotion of ordinary mortals, particularly Parisian mortals, never moving, like a branch grafted onto his stool, never clearing his stall for anyone to see, and vanishing between midnight and eight in the morning to nobody knew where.”

The Muslim Monsieur Ibrahim has garnered a high degree of respect as the sole grocer on the Jewish block where Moses and his father reside. Calm, quiet, and ever-reliable, Monsieur Ibrahim is a stereotypical “wise Oriental,” who always bears a pleasant countenance as he steadfastly serves the neighborhood, unfazed by his clientele’s constant flurry of activity. Perhaps his status as sage also derives from the aura of mystery surrounding his personal life.

“‘I’m not an Arab, Momo. I’m a Muslim.’

‘So then why do they say you’re this street’s only Arab if you’re not an Arab?’

‘In the grocery business, Momo, Arab means “open from eight in the morning until midnight and even on Sundays.’”

This short dialogue between Moses and Monsieur Ibrahim underscores the prevalent misconception that all Muslims are Arabs, and reveals the common Parisian derogatory slang “Arab”—a small neighborhood grocery store. Having slid into usage because many corner grocers in Paris are often North Africans from France’s former colonies, the reductionist term “Arab” creates confusion in Momo, especially when he learns that while Monsieur Ibrahim is indeed a Muslim who owns a neighborhood grocery, he’s not an Arab.

“Thanks to Monsieur Ibrahim’s intercession, the adult world cracked, it no longer presented the same rock-solid wall I was always running into; a hand was held out to me through the crack.”

Moses deems his newfound friendship with Monsieur Ibrahim solidified after the iconic French actress Brigitte Bardot enters the grocery one day to purchase a bottle of water, for which Monsieur Ibrahim vastly overcharges her. To Moses’s astonished questioning of this dishonest act, Monsieur Ibrahim calmly replies that he needs to somehow be reimbursed for the many cans of food that Moses has been pilfering from the store. Once the grocer reveals that he’s on to the boy’s secret, he helps Moses steal from his father by replacing his father’s wine of choice with a cheaper variety and by substituting pâté with dog food.

“‘Monsieur Ibrahim, when I tell you that smiling is something rich folks do, I mean that it’s for happy people.’ ‘Well now, that’s where you’re all wrong. It’s smiling that makes you happy.’”

Moses equates a smile with financial wealth, which only reminds him of his lacking circumstances. Here the grocer delivers one of his philosophical gems—that true happiness emanates from one’s inner state—a simple message that revolutionizes Moses’s daily existence, as he begins to flash a beaming grin wherever he goes. Bit by bit, Moses understands that not only must he shape his own outlook, but also that displaying mirth begets positive treatment from others.

“Me, I know nothing. I only know what it says in my Koran.”

Having just disclosed that he knows another of Moses’s secrets—namely that the boy consorts with sex workers—Monsieur Ibrahim deflects revealing the source of this knowledge, instead citing his Koran as his authority on all matters of life. Here the titular “flowers of the Koran” emerge as the grocer’s ostensible source of wisdom, though, as the narrative unfolds, it grows increasingly clear that Monsieur Ibrahim takes creative license with the scripture.

“It’s crazy, Monsieur Ibrahim, how the shop windows of the rich are so poor. There’s nothing in them.”

On a stroll led by Monsieur Ibrahim to the scenic, touristy part of Paris, Moses notes the immense, minimalist designer storefronts in the city’s chic areas, comparing them to the grocer’s tiny establishment, whose every millimeter of space is packed with wares. Monsieur Ibrahim notes that ultimately luxury comes down to paying high prices for very little.

“In any event, Sufism was not a disease, which reassured me somewhat. It was a way of thinking—even if there are ways of thinking that are also diseases, as Monsieur Ibrahim often said.”

When Moses discovers that Monsieur Ibrahim drinks alcohol (since Muslims are prohibited from doing so), the latter explains that he’s a Sufi, which Moses at first assumes is a rare disease. Once he learns that Sufism is a mystical strand of Islam that places emphasis on an individual’s inner convictions, the boy decides that, even if, according to Monsieur Ibrahim, ways of thinking can be maladies in themselves, at least the grocer isn’t plagued with an incurable illness.

“‘And being Jewish has nothing to do with God?’ ‘For me it no longer does. Being Jewish is merely having memories. Bad memories.’”

The novella is unclear on the difference between Judaism, the original Abrahamic religion, and Jewishness, an ethnic and cultural identity. In trying to construct Moses’s father’s relationship with his roots, the novella conflates religion and culture. Here, Moses asks his father if being Jewish equates to believing in God and receives a grim response that seems to point to Schmitt’s unfamiliarity with the realities of Nazi war crimes, despite many of them having occurred in France. Though Moses’s father declares that because much of his family perished during the Holocaust, belief in God is just an unhappy memory, the idea makes little sense. Nazis killed Jews not for their faith but for their ethno-cultural identity—most of those who died in the camps were secular Jews.

“My decision was irrevocable—I would disguise my father’s absence. I would make people believe he was there, he ate there, and that he still shared his long and boring evenings with me.”

With his father having lost his job and left, Moses represses his abandonment by hiding his solitude. He creates physical props to corroborate to any onlookers that his father is still there.

“‘It doesn’t matter,’ Monsieur Ibrahim said. ‘Your love for her belongs to you. It’s yours. Even if she refuses it, she cannot change it. She isn’t benefiting from it, that’s all. What you give, Momo, is yours forever. What you keep is lost for all time!’”

To prove his worth—and to distract himself from his father’s abandonment—Moses decides that he must fall in love. He chooses Myriam, the concierge’s daughter, the heartthrob of many neighborhood boys. She doesn’t return his advances. Listening to Moses relate his love woes, Monsieur Ibrahim offers another simple gem of wisdom, reassuring the boy that beauty and value reside in his gift of love regardless of whether the feeling is reciprocated.

“Muslims are just like Jews, Momo. It’s about the sacrifice of Abraham: he holds his child out to God, telling him he may take him. That bit of skin that we don’t have is the mark of Abraham.”

Monsieur Ibrahim takes Moses on a trip to Normandy, where, in their shared hotel bathroom, the latter discovers with surprise that the grocer is also circumcised. Through Monsieur Ibrahim’s explanation, Moses learns that Jews and Muslims share the Abrahamic covenant. Given Moses’s recent paternal abandonment, the grocer’s gradual sliding into the paternal role becomes solidified at Moses’s realization that, not only do he and the grocer enjoy an emotional bond, but also, they have undergone the same traditional religious ritual, clearly symbolized by the grocer’s name, the Islamic version of “Abraham.” Just as God promises protection to Abraham and his descendants through the covenant, so does Monsieur Ibrahim serve as Moses’s protector.

“When you want to know whether you’re in a rich or poor area, you should look at the garbage cans.”

As they drive across Europe to Monsieur Ibrahim’s homeland in the Middle East, Monsieur Ibrahim explains to Moses that one can determine the economic status of an area by its garbage cans, which range from empty—indicating a wealthy region—to partially full, to overflowing, to nonexistent. When there are no bins, one is in an impoverished area. Once again, Monsieur Ibrahim lightheartedly opens Moses’s eyes to simple yet meaningful realities. 

“Stop the car. You smell this? It smells of happiness, this is Greece. People don’t move, they take the time to watch us pass by, they breathe. You see, Momo, all my life I worked hard, but I worked slowly, taking my time. I didn’t just want to ring up numbers or watch the customers parade in and out, no. Slowness, that’s the secret of happiness.”

In Greece, the grocer offers a sensorial approach to understanding general atmosphere. Instructing Moses to take in Greece’s aroma of happiness, Monsieur Ibrahim teaches him another aspect of well-being: slowness. Being mindful is a way to tune into life. It’s noteworthy that Monsieur Ibrahim shares these basic elements of yogic philosophy as he and Moses travel east, towards the place where yoga and mindfulness have been in practice for many centuries. This vague association of the Near East, Middle East, and Southeast Asia as mystical places full of mysterious wisdom that Westerners no longer know is a form of benign prejudice—a kind of racism the novella frequently exhibits in its simplistic, one-dimensional depictions of Monsieur Ibrahim.