Midaq Alley by Naguib Mahfouz
The widow’s furniture and clothing were not the only expenses; her house needed renovation and even the bride herself required a great deal of care, preparation, and repair. One day Mrs. Afify said to Umm Hamida, laughing hysterically in her state of apprehension, “Oh, Umm Hamida, can’t you see how my worries are turning my hair gray?”
Umm Hamida, aware that whatever had whitened her hair it was certainly not worry, replied, “Oh, those worries will easily disappear with dye. You know, there’s hardly a single woman who doesn’t dye her hair these days.”
The widow now laughed and sighed. “Heaven bless you, you wonderful woman. Whatever would I have done with my life if it weren’t for you.” Then she waited a little, stroked her breast and went on: “My goodness, will that young bridegroom you’ve found me be pleased with this dry body of mine? I have neither breasts nor a behind to attract men with.”
“Don’t belittle yourself; don’t you know that being slender is fashionable and a very nice fashion too! Anyway, if you like, I’ll give you some marvelous dishes to fatten you up in no time…” She shook her pockmarked head proudly and continued: “Have no fears as long as Umm Hamida is with you. Umm Hamida is the magic key to unlock all secret doors for you. Tomorrow you’ll see how good I am in the baths; we’ll go there together.”
So the days of preparation passed, full of endless activities, pleasures, and hopes, dyeing of hair and collecting perfumes, extracting teeth and making a gold plate; and all of this was costing money. The widow, struggling to overcome her stinginess, tossed her savings in the path of that long-awaited day. She even gave money to the mosque of Hussain and dispersed it liberally to the poor surrounding it. In addition, she donated forty candles to St. Shaarany.
Umm Hamida was overcome with amazement at the widow’s sudden generosity. She clasped her hands together and said to herself, “Are men worth all this trouble? Long may your wisdom reign, O Lord, for it is You who have decreed that women worship men…”
Uncle Kamil woke from his usual permanent daydream to the sound of a bell ringing. He opened his eyes and listened. Then he craned his neck until his head appeared outside the shop. He saw a familiar carriage standing at the entrance of the alley and rose slowly, saying to himself in pleased surprise, “My goodness, has Mr. Salim Alwan really come back?” The driver now hurried from his seat to the carriage door to help his master climb down. Salim Alwan leaned heavily on his arm and carefully rose from his seat. First the tassel of his fez appeared, followed by his bent body, and finally he stood on the ground straightening his clothes. His illness had struck him in the middle of the winter and it had taken until early spring to cure him. The biting-cold winter was now replaced by a gentle wave of warmth which seemed to make the whole world dance with joy. But then what cure had he really had? Mr. Alwan had come back a different man. His paunch which used to stretch his clothes had quite disappeared, and his florid, well-filled face was now sunken. His cheekbones were quite visible, his cheeks hollow, his skin pallid. His eyes had lost their sparkle, and he now seemed sullen and faded beneath his scowling eyebrows.
Because of his weak eyes Uncle Kamil did not notice how much Alwan had changed. However, when he came closer to him and saw how old and worn the man looked, Kamil was really shocked. He bent low over Alwan’s had in greeting to hide his emotion, and shouted in his shrill voice, “Praise be to God for your safe return, Mr. Alwan. This is a happy day indeed. By God and Hussain, without you the alley isn’t worth an onion skin!”
Withdrawing his hand, Mr. Alwan replied, “That’s very kind of you, Uncle Kamil.”
He went off, walking slowly and leaning heavily on his stick, his driver following behind with Kamil waddling in the rear like an elephant. It was obvious that the ringing of the bell had announced Alwan’s arrival, for soon the entrance to the business premises was filled with workers. Kirsha and Dr. Booshy came out of the café and everyone surrounded Alwan, muttering prayers and praises to God for his safe return. The driver of the carriage raised his voice, shouting, “Make way please for Mr. Alwan. Let him sit down first and then you can greet him.”
The crowd cleared a path for him and he entered frowning, his heart boiling over with resentment. He would have been perfectly happy never to see their faces again. He had scarcely settled into his seat at the desk when his employees started streaming in. He had no choice but to give them his hand to kiss, one after the other, repelled by each touch of their lips, and saying to himself all the time, “What wicked liars you are! You’re the real cause of this whole calamity!”
The employees left and Kirsha now came in to shake his hand, saying, “Welcome indeed to the master of the quarter. A thousand thanks to God for your safe return.”
Alwan thanked him.
Dr. Booshy kissed Alwan’s hand and recited in oratorical tones, “Today our joy is fulfilled and today our hearts are put at rest. Today our prayers are granted and…”
Hiding his disgust, Alwan thanked him. The fact was that he really despised the dentist’s little round face.
When he was at last left in peace, he heaved a sigh from his weak lungs and said in a scarcely audible voice, “Dogs…dogs, the lot of them. They have bitten me with their envy-filled eyes!” He did his best to shake off the rage and scorn welling up in him. He was not left alone long, for Kamil Effendi Ibrahim, his manager, appeared, and at once Alwan forgot everything except checking the company’s books. Tersely, he commanded, “The books.”
As his manager was about to go off, Alwan stopped him suddenly, as though remembering something important. Imperiously, Alwan ordered him, “Tell everyone that from now on I never want to smell tobacco smoke” (the doctor had forbidden him to use it), “and tell Ismail that if I ask him for water he is to bring a cup half filled with cold and half with hot water. Smoking is absolutely forbidden. Now bring the books quickly!”
The manager went off to announce the new orders, grumbling to himself, for he was a smoker. Soon he returned with the books, worried by the obvious changes the illness had wrought in Alwan. He realized he was in for a difficult time.
The manager sat opposite Mr. Alwan and opened the first ledger, spreading it out on the desk before him, and they began working. Salim Alwan was most meticulous in his handling of business matters, no matter how delicate. He now settled down to the auditing of the books, going through them one by one, sparing no details. Next he summoned some employees, to question them about their punctuality, comparing what they said with what was recorded in the ledgers.
All the time Kamil Effendi sat patiently, frowning; not for a moment did he think of complaining. The audit was not the only thing his thoughts were following. He was silently pondering the ban on smoking which had descended so unexpectedly. This would not merely prevent his smoking in the office; he would also lose those fine Turkish cigarettes Alwan used to give him. He sat looking inquisitively at the other man bent over the ledgers and thought to himself sadly and angrily, “My God. How the man has changed! This is a complete stranger.” He particularly marveled at Alwan’s mustache, still large and splendid even though his face had lost its previous lines and features, quite obliterated by his dangerous illness. His mustache was like a lofty palm tree towering in a desert. His irritation caused him to observe, “Who knows? Maybe he deserves what has happened to him. God never treats anyone unjustly.”
After three hours of work, Alwan finished the audit and returned the books to his manager, looking at him strangely as he did so. His look implied that although his suspicions were not confirmed by the audit, they still remained as strong as ever. Alwan told himself, “I’ll do the audit again and again until I find out what they are hiding. They are dogs, the lot of them. While they have all the dirty tricks of dogs, they have none of their faithfulness! Then he addressed his manager aloud, “Don’t forget, Kamil Effendi, what I told you. About the smoking and the warm water.”
Soon his business friends and acquaintances arrived to wish him well, some staying to tra
As soon as he was left alone Alwan’s vindictive thoughts returned and, as was usually the case with him these days, his anger enveloped everyone. For a long time he had told himself that everyone envied him, that they envied his health, his business, his carriage and his bowl of green wheat, and he now cursed them all from the bottom of his heart. During his illness these thoughts had frequently recurred to him and even his wife was an object of his spite. One day as she sat by the side of his bed, he said, his voice quavering with weakness and anger, “And you too, madam, you have had your share of that. For years you’ve been trying to subdue me by saying that my wheat-bowl days are over. Why, it’s as if you also resent my good health. Well, now everything is over and you can be satisfied.”
She was quite shocked by this and stood there not knowing what to say. He broke in again angrily, his ill temper in no way subsided, “They envied me…envied me. Even my wife, the mother of my children, envied me!”
Although the reins of wisdom had now clearly slipped from his hands, death had already appeared before him sometime previously. He would never again forget that terrifying hour when the crisis had struck. He was just dropping off to sleep when a painful chest constriction attacked him. He felt the need to take a deep breath but he was unable to either inhale or exhale. Whenever he tried, the pain racked his entire body. The doctor arrived and he had taken the prescribed medicine, only to lie hovering between life and death for some days. When he opened his eyes he had been able to vaguely see his wife, sons, and daughters sitting about him, their eyes red from weeping. He had drifted in and out of that strange state in which a man loses all desire to use either his intellect or his body. The world appeared a dark dream of obscure and disconnected memories, unclear and seeming to have no connection one with the other.
In those few brief moments when he regained a degree of consciousness, he had asked himself in a cold shudder, “Am I going to die?” Was he to die surrounded like this, by his whole family? But then a man usually departs from this life surrounded by the hands of his loved ones, though what good did it do to have them around when one must die anyway? At that thought he started to pray and to make a declaration of faith, but he was too weak. This attempt to pray merely caused a bit of internal movement that allowed moisture into his dry mouth.
His deeply embedded faith had not made him forget the horrors of this hour and he had submitted his body to it in spite of himself. As for his spirit, it clung in terror and fear to the fringes of life, his tear-filled eyes calling out for help and relief. This period eventually ended, the danger receded, and he recovered. Slowly he came back to life, and he hoped his health would completely return so that he could lead his old life again. However, the warnings and advice of his doctor completely destroyed his high hopes, for clearly he had only a little life left. Yes, he had escaped from death. But now he was another person whose body was delicate and whose mind was sick. As time went on, his sickness of mind became worse and he became more and more testy and filled with hate. He was really astonished at this reversal in health and fortune and he asked himself what sin could Almighty God be punishing him for. His had been one of those hearts only too ready to find excuses for others’ faults, always thinking the best of them and refusing to see their shortcomings. He had a really fierce love of life, had enjoyed his personal wealth and provided well for his family. He had also, as far as he could see, kept within the bounds of God’s laws and had felt a deep contentment in his life. Then this dreadful blow had struck that almost destroyed his health and very nearly his sanity. What sin had he committed? He had committed no sin; it was his enemies who had brought him down. It was their envy which had caused this eternal injury! So it was that everything that had been sweet in his life had now become sour, and a permanent scowl etched itself into his brow. The truth was that his bodily damage was trivial in comparison to that done to his nervous system.
Sitting there at his desk in the office, he asked himself whether all he had left in life was to sit there auditing his books. Life seemed to frown on him more darkly than he on it, as he sat there frozen like a statue. He had no idea how long he had been sitting there lost in his thoughts when he heard a noise at the entrance. He looked up and saw Umm Hamida’s pockmarked face making its way toward him. A strange look came into his eyes as he greeted her, listening with only a quarter of his attention to her greetings and blessings. He was occupied with old memories that did not concern her.
Was it not strange how he had forgotten Hamida, as though she had never existed? During his convalescence she had occasionally crossed his mind, but only briefly and without effect. His disappointment at not being able to have her was not nearly so strong as his desire for her and recently he had really quite forgotten her. It was as though she had been a small drop of the healthy blood that flowed in his veins, and when his health had gone, she had vanished with it.
The strange look now left his eyes and their usual sullenness returned. He thanked the woman for coming to see him and asked her to sit down. In fact, her coming had amazed him, and he felt something approaching hatred for Umm Hamida. He wondered what had brought her, whether she really wanted to pass on her good wishes or to satisfy herself about that other matter. However, the woman felt no ill will toward him, for she had long ago despaired of him.
Rather like an apology, Alwan addressed her: “We wanted…but God wanted otherwise…”
She understood and said quickly, “It’s not your fault, Mr. Alwan, and we only pray to God for your health and well-being.”
She then said goodbye and left. Alwan was now in a worse state and even more upset than when she had arrived. He noticed a package of mascara slip from the hands of one of his workers and his anger boiled over. He shouted at the man, “This business is going to close soon, so are you looking for a new job?”
He stood there trembling with rage. He was reminded again of what his sons recently suggested, that he should liquidate the business and rest. His rage increased as he told himself that it was his money they were really after and not their concern about his health. Had they not made the same suggestion before, when he was in perfect health? It was his money they were after all right. He seemed to forget that he had rejected the idea of restricting his life to working in the office and amassing money he would never be able to spend. However, his stubbornness got the better of him, coupled with an ill will toward everyone he knew, including his children and his wife.
Before he recovered from his rage, he heard a voice calling out in sincere sympathy, “Praise be to God for your safe return. Peace be upon you, my brother.”
Alwan turned and saw Radwan Hussainy’s tall, broad form approaching, his face beaming with joy. Alwan’s face too seemed happier than before and he made as if to get up, but Radwan placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “By our Lord Hussain, please stay rested.”
They embraced affectionately. Radwan had several times visited Alwan’s villa during his illness, and when he had not been able to see the merchant, had always left his greetings and blessings. Radwan sat near Alwan and they began talking together in a polite and friendly fashion.
Salim Alwan cried emotionally, “It was a miracle that I recovered!”
In his quiet, deep voice, Radwan replied, “All praise be to God. It was a miracle that you recovered, and it is a miracle that you still live. It’s a miracle, as you may know, that any of us are alive. For man to live a single second needs a great miracle from the Divine Power. The life of any man is a succession of divine miracles, and just think of the lives of everyone put together and the number of lives of all living creatures! Let us therefore thank God day and night. How insignificant our thanks are in the face of these divine blessings.”
Alwan sat silently listening and then muttered sullenly, “Illness is a really evil, dread
“No doubt it seems so, but from another angle it can be considered a divine test and so in this respect it is good.”
This philosophy did not please Alwan at all, and suddenly he felt hostility for the man who expressed it. The good effect of his coming was now quite dissipated. He managed to prevent giving way to his emotion, however, and asked, still obviously discontented, “What have I done to deserve this punishment? Can’t you see that I have lost my health forever?”
Radwan Hussainy stroked his beard and answered critically, “What can we, with our shallow intelligence, expect to understand of His mighty wisdom? It is true that you are a good man, worthy and generous, and keep strictly to God’s ordinances. However, don’t forget that God put Job to the test and he was a prophet. Do not despair and do not be sad. Remain faithful and good will come of it…”
Alwan’s emotional state only got worse and he asked angrily, “Have you noticed how Kirsha still retains the strength and health of a mule?”
“You with your sickness are far better off than he is with his health.”
Fury overcame Alwan at this, and he shot Radwan a fiery glance, shouting, “You can talk in your peace and contentment and sermonize in your pious godliness, but you haven’t suffered as I have and have lost nothing like I’ve lost.”
Radwan remained looking down until the man finished his speech. Then he raised his head, a sweet smile playing on his lips, and looked at Alwan, deep and straight from his clear eyes. Immediately, Alwan’s anger and emotional state subsided. It was as though he was remembering for the first time that he was talking to the most afflicted of God’s worshippers. The merchant blinked his eyes and his pallid face flushed slightly. Then he said weakly, “Please forgive me, my brother! I am tired and on edge.”