Children of the Alley by Naguib Mahfouz
“Good evening, Grandfather.”
He was taken aback by the strong voice that replied—in which the music of mercy could be heard. “You are welcome, my son. Sit down.”
The boy went to a chair to the right of the cushioned seat and perched on the edge.
“Make yourself comfortable,” said Gabalawi.
Humam shifted back into the chair, his heart overflowing with happiness; his lips moved in whispered thanks, then silence fell. He studied the designs in the carpet beneath his feet, feeling the impact of the gaze trained on him, just as we feel the sun upon us without looking at it. His attention was suddenly drawn to the little room located to his right; he looked at its door with a twinge of fright and melancholy.
“What do you know about that door?” the man asked.
His limbs trembled and he marveled at how the man saw everything. “I know that all our troubles came out of it,” he said humbly.
“What did you think of your grandfather when you heard the story?”
Humam opened his mouth to answer, but Gabalawi spoke first. “Tell the truth.”
Humam was so affected by his tone of voice that he did speak frankly. “My father’s conduct seemed to me a terrible mistake, and it seemed to me that the punishment was extremely harsh.”
Gabalawi smiled. “That is approximately what you think. I abominate lying and deception, and that is why I evict from my house anyone who shames himself.”
Humam’s eyes filled with tears.
“You seemed to me a good boy. That is why I sent for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Humam in a voice wet with tears.
“I have decided to give you a chance no one from outside here has ever had: to live in this house, to marry into it and to begin a new life in it.”
Humam’s heart beat in a rapture of joy as he awaited new words to complete this marvelous melody, as a music lover listens for song after an overture, but the man’s silence was unbroken. He hesitated, then spoke. “Thank you for your kindness.”
“You deserve it.”
The boy’s gaze alternated between his grandfather and the carpet before he asked anxiously, “My family?”
“I have clearly told you what I want,” Gabalawi reproached him.
“They deserve your forgiveness and your affection,” Humam pleaded.
Gabalawi’s question was distinctly cool: “Did you not hear what I said?”
“Of course, but these are my mother and father and brothers and sisters, and my father is a man—”
“Did you not hear what I said?”
The voice was annoyed. Silence fell. To indicate that the conversation was at an end, the man said, “Go tell them goodbye, then come back here.”
Humam rose, kissed his grandfather’s hand and left. He found old Karim waiting for him; the man got up and followed the boy in silence. When they reached the terrace, Humam saw a girl standing in the light at the beginning of the garden; she hurried away and vanished, though not before he noticed her profile, neck and slim figure. His grandfather’s voice echoed in his ears: “To live in this house, to marry into it.” To marry a girl like this one; to live the life my father knew. How had this gamble ruined him? How, and with what heart, had he borne a life spent pushing a handcart? This fortunate chance is like a dream, my father’s dream for the past twenty years. But I have a terrible headache.
18
Humam went back to the hut to find his family waiting up for him. They surrounded him and plied him with questions.
“What was it about, my boy?” asked Adham impatiently.
Humam noticed that Qadri had a bandage over one eye, and went closer to examine his brother’s face.
“There was quite a battle between your brother and that man,” said Adham despondently, indicating Idris’ hut with a gesture. The place was shrouded in darkness and silence.
“All because of the nasty, false accusation he made against her at the mansion,” said Qadri angrily.
Humam pointed to Idris’ hut. “What’s going on there?”
“The man and his wife have gone looking for their daughter,” said Adham sadly.
“And whose fault is it but that damned bastard’s?” shouted Qadri.
“Lower your voice,” Umaima implored.
“What are you worried about?” shouted Qadri. “Nothing but a fixation on a return that will never happen—believe me, you will never leave this hut for as long as you live.”
“That’s enough of that,” snapped Adham. “You’re out of your mind, by our God Almighty. Didn’t you want to marry that fugitive girl?”
“I will too.”
“Shut up. I’m tired of your silliness.”
“Living next door to Idris will be worse than ever now,” said Umaima anxiously.
Adham turned to Humam. “I asked you what it was about.”
“My grandfather invited me to move to the mansion,” replied Humam in a voice that betrayed no pleasure.
Adham waited for the rest of the story; when Humam had nothing to add he sounded despairing. “What about us—what did he say about us?”
Humam shook his head sadly and whispered, “Nothing.”
A laugh like a scorpion’s sting escaped Qadri, who then asked sarcastically, “So what are you doing back here?”
What am I doing back here? I don’t know except that happiness was not made to bless people like me.
“I didn’t forget to remind him about all of you,” Humam answered sadly.
“Thanks,” said Qadri contemptuously, “but why did he choose you over us?”
“You know I had nothing to do with that.”
“Well, Humam, of course you are better than any of us,” Adham sighed.
“And you, Father, never so much as mention him without some blessing he doesn’t deserve!” said Qadri bitterly.
“You don’t understand anything,” said Adham.
“That man is worse than his son Idris.”
“You are tearing my heart, and depriving me of all hope,” said Umaima piteously.
“There’s no hope anywhere but in this desert,” said Qadri scornfully. “Get used to that and forget everything else. This stinking house is no good—I’m not afraid of the desert, I’m not even afraid of Idris himself. I can repay him double for every time he hit me. Spit on this house and forget it.”
Can life go on like this forever? Adham wondered. Why, Father, did you revive our hopes in you before it pleased you to forgive us? What will soften your heart, if not all the time that has passed? What good is there in hoping when all this torment has not purified us enough to earn the forgiveness of the one we love?
To Humam he spoke in a voice as dim as twilight: “Tell me what you think, my boy.”
“He told me to come and say goodbye, then go back there.”
Umaima vainly tried to hide her sobs in the darkness.
“What’s keeping you?” Qadri asked maliciously.
“Go, Humam,” said Adham resolutely. “Go with our blessing, and God be with you.”
“Go, you gallant creature, and don’t think about anyone else,” Qadri said mock seriously.
“Don’t make fun of your nice brother!” shouted Adham.
Qadri laughed. “He’s worse than all of us.”
“If I decide to stay, it won’t be thanks to you!” yelled Humam.
“Go,” pleaded Adham. “Don’t hesitate.”
“Yes—go in peace,” said Umaima through her tears.
“No, Mother,” said Humam. “I’m not going.”
“Are you crazy?” exclaimed Adham.
“No, Father, I need to think about it. We need to talk about it.”
“No, we don’t. Don’t make me sin again.”
Humam pointed to Idris’ hut and said decisively, “I think some things will be happening.”
“You’re too weak to keep trouble away from yourself, let alone from others,” Qadri sneered.
“I think I’ll just ignore whate
“Go, Humam,” Adham urged him again.
“I will stay by your side,” Humam said, and went into the hut.
19
Nothing was left of the sun but its aurora, and all passersby were home by now, so Qadri, Humam and the sheep had the desert to themselves. The whole day had passed, but they had exchanged only the few words demanded by their working together. And Qadri had gone away for much of the day—seeking out news of Hind, guessed Humam, who stayed alone in the shade of the boulder, not far from the flock.
“Tell me,” Qadri suddenly asked Humam, with a hint of menace, “what are you going to do about the visit to your grandfather? Have you changed your mind?”
“None of your business,” said Humam crossly.
Rage rose up in Qadri’s heart and showed in his face like dusk falling over Muqattam.
“Why did you stay? When will you go? When will you get the nerve to admit what you’re going to do?”
“I stayed to bear my share of the hardship created by your trouble-making.”
Qadri laughed savagely. “That’s what you say to hide your jealousy.”
Humam shook his head as if in utter wonderment, and said, “You deserve pity, not jealousy.”
Qadri moved closer, his limbs trembling with anger, and spoke in a voice choked with rage. “There’s nothing more disgusting than you pretending to be wise.”
Humam stared at him wordlessly but said nothing.
“The human race should be ashamed of having you as a member,” Qadri continued.
Humam gazed unblinkingly into the burning eyes that faced him, and spoke firmly. “You should know that I’m not afraid of you.”
“Has the big bully promised to protect you?”
“Hatred makes you stink—it turns you into a loathsome thing.”
Qadri punched him in the face. The blow did not surprise Humam, who hit him back even harder.
“Don’t be crazy,” said Humam.
Qadri stooped briefly and snatched up a rock, which he then hurled at his brother with all the strength in his body. Humam started to dodge the rock, but it struck him in the forehead. A gasp escaped him and he froze where he stood, fury flashing in his eyes. Abruptly the fury disappeared from them, like a fire put out by heavy soil. A dark vacancy took its place as his eyes seemed to be gazing within him. He staggered, then fell on his face. Qadri’s mood changed. His anger vanished, leaving him like melted iron turned cold, and fear seized him. He waited impatiently for the fallen man to get up or even budge, but in vain. He bent over him and reached out to shake him gently, but Humam did not move. He turned him on his back to clear his nose and mouth of the sand; the other lay still, his eyes staring. Qadri knelt beside him and shook him again, rubbed his chest and hands, staring in terror at the stream of blood gushing from the wound. He called him pleadingly but he did not respond. His silence was intense and profound, as if it were a part of his very being—like his motionlessness, so different from that of a living person or an inanimate object. There was no feeling, no activity, no concern with anything at all; as if he had fallen to the earth from some unknown height for some unknown reason. Qadri recognized death instinctively, and began to pull the hair of his head despairingly. He looked all around, frightened, but there was no living thing except for insects and the sheep, all of whom moved indifferently away from him. Night will come and darkness will reign. He got up decisively and found his staff, and went to a spot between the big boulder and the hill; there he dug a hole with his hands, working doggedly, bathed in sweat and shaking all over. He hurried over to his brother and called him one last time, not expecting a reply. He seized him by the feet, dragged him to the hole and placed him in it. He looked at him, sighed and after a moment’s hesitation began to pile dirt on him. Then he stood and wiped the sweat from his face with the edge of his galabiya. When he saw a stain of blood soaking through the sand, he covered it with dirt; then he flung himself on the ground, exhausted. His strength deserting him, he felt an urge to cry, but the tears would not come. “Death defeated me,” said Qadri. He had not invited it; he had not wanted it; it had come on its own. If only he could turn himself into a young goat—he would get lost among the sheep; or a grain of sand—he would vanish into the earth. Since I cannot bring him back to life, I will never be strong again. That sight will never, ever leave my head from now on! What I buried was neither a living thing nor a lifeless object, but something I made with my own hands.
20
Qadri went home, driving the flock before him. Adham’s cart was not in its place. His mother’s voice called to him from inside. “Why are you two so late?”
He answered as he drove the sheep along the path to the enclosure. “I fell asleep. Hasn’t Humam came back yet?”
Umaima raised her voice above the racket of her two younger boys. “No—isn’t he with you?”
Qadri swallowed hard and said, “He left me at noon without telling me where he was going. I thought he’d be back here.”
Adham had come in after pushing his cart into the yard. “Did you two quarrel?”
“No!”
“I think you must have been the reason he went away—but where is he?”
Umaima went out into the yard as Qadri closed the gate of the enclosure and went to wash his face and hands in the basin by the clay jug. He had to face facts. The world had changed, but despair was powerful. He joined his parents in the dark, drying his face with the edge of his galabiya.
“Where has Humam gone?” wondered Umaima. “He’s never been gone like this before.”
Adham agreed with her and said, “Yes. Tell us why and how he left.”
Qadri’s heart flip-flopped at the picture he saw in his mind. “I was sitting in the shade of the rock, and turned around, and saw him going away, coming this way. I was going to call to him, but I didn’t.”
“If only you had called to him,” said Umaima uneasily, “instead of giving in to your anger.”
Adham looked helplessly into the surrounding darkness, and saw a dim light through a little window in Idris’ hut, indicating that once again life was on the move there, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the mansion.
“Maybe he went to his grandfather’s,” he wondered.
“He wouldn’t do that without telling us,” Umaima disagreed.
“Maybe he was too ashamed to,” Qadri suggested weakly.
Adham gave him a dubious look, worried by the absence of sarcasm and hostility from Qadri’s voice.
“We urged him to go but he refused.”
“He was ashamed to agree in front of us,” said Qadri wearily.
“That’s not like him. What’s wrong with you? You look sick!”
“I had to do all the work myself.”
Adham cried out as if calling for help, “I mean it—I am really afraid now!”
“I’ll go to the mansion and ask about him,” said Umaima hoarsely.
Adham shrugged despairingly. “No one will answer you, but I swear he hasn’t gone there.”
Umaima puffed anxiously and said, “God! I’ve never been this worried. Do something, man!”
Adham sighed loudly in the dark. “We’ll go look for him everywhere.”
“Maybe he’s on his way home,” said Qadri.
“We have no time to waste,” cried Umaima. She paused uneasily and looked out at Idris’ hut. “Could he have run into Idris on the road?”
“Idris’ enemy is Qadri, not Humam,” said Adham irritably.
“He wouldn’t think anything of killing any one of us. I’m going to him!”
Adham held her back, saying, “Don’t complicate things even more. I promise, if we don’t find him I will go to Idris, and to the mansion too.” He pierced Qadri with a fearful glance. What was on his mind to keep him so quiet? Did he have nothing more to say? Where are you, Humam?
Umaima began to rush out of the yard, but Adham moved quickly and clasped her shoulder. Suddenly th
“Welcome, Karim!”
Karim greeted him and announced, “My master is asking what has delayed Humam.”
“We don’t know where he is,” wept Umaima. “We thought he might be up there with you.”
“My master is asking what has delayed him.”
“God help me from my heart’s forebodings!” cried Umaima.
Old Karim left. Umaima began to wag her head in a way that warned of an outburst. Adham guided her before him into the inner room where the toddlers were crying, and shouted at her ferociously. “Don’t leave this room! I will come back with him! Just don’t leave this room!”