The Beginning and the End by Naguib Mahfouz
“Mother, you’ve lived for half a century under occupation,” Hassanein said. “Let’s pray to God”—he laughed—“that you’ll live for another half century under independence!”
“Occupation! Independence!” the mother replied, in disapproval. “I don’t see the difference between them. It’s better for us to pray to God to relieve our distress and make life easier for us.”
Hassanein spoke with enthusiasm and faith. “But for the occupation, our family would never have been left in the lurch after Father’s death. Isn’t it so?” he asked, turning to Hussein.
“I believe so,” Hussein said hopefully.
Very skeptical, the mother looked from one to the other. She did not care for general conversations such as these which occasionally cropped up, whence God only knew. For only one purpose was she ready to forget the external world, and it weighed heavily upon her mind. This was to steer these two young men, whom she loved more than her own life, out of troubled waters to secure harbors, and to see them become two happy, successful men, immune from the evils of life, providing the family serenity and peace.
FORTY-FOUR
At the end of the scholastic year, Hussein obtained the baccalaureate. During the interval of waiting for the results of the examination to appear, the family suffered bitter doubts and fears. Nobody dared to predict how things might develop if Hussein should fail to pass or lose his exemption from fees. After her prolonged patience, it was impossible for Samira to conceive of such an outcome, or to see all her hopes in ruin.
Surrounded by his brother, his sister, and his mother, their quivering hearts palpitating with hope and fear, Hussein took the newspaper from the newsboy, cast dazed looks at it, searching its pages for his successful number. It was a dreadful moment, indelibly imprinted on their memories. But now it was a happy day, the first happy day after two gloomy years. Their souls filled with joy, they offered their thanks to God. Their happy mood sometimes manifested itself in their gentle conversations, and occasionally in the prevalence of a glowing silence of reassurance. This gave them hope for tomorrow. But as they thought about the future, both near and distant, their happiness evaporated almost without their realizing it. Once more they imagined the difficulties confronting their lives. Thus these transient moments of serene happiness gave way to worry and deep pensiveness.
For the first time in his life, Hassanein discovered the truth that happiness is short-lived and that sorrow and pain outlive it. Hussein used to think of his future. Of course, he had his ambitions and dreams. Yet he was aware of the unpleasant facts of life. As if probing their reaction to his success, he inquired, “What do you think my next step should be?”
The mother’s greatest desire was that their miserable condition of life be terminated at any cost. All the worthwhile pieces of furniture in the flat having been sold, she knew that it was impossible for her family to continue this sort of life much longer. But she was reluctant to impose her opinions on him and control his career the way she controlled his life. He was no longer an infant. If on his own accord he agreed with her views, all well and good. But if he did not, let him choose whatever course of action he judged best for himself. In that event, the family was bound to continue as before in stoicism, fortitude, and even hunger, until God would ordain plenty and abundance for them.
“Let’s think it over carefully,” she said curtly.
Moved as usual by his passions, Hassanein was thinking fast, disguising his egocentricity behind what he believed to be the common good. “Life has become intolerable,” he said. “We’re ill-nourished and almost always hungry, our clothes torn, darned, or threadbare, and our house is empty. We shouldn’t prolong our suffering. We’ve no choice but to become practical about our lives,” he said.
Understanding his brother well, Hussein realized at once what he was driving at. Convinced though he was of the substance of his brother’s argument, he was irritated at his cunning. “Why do you say ‘we’ when I’m the only person involved in this matter?” Hussein asked.
Realizing that his brother usually divined his ulterior motives, Hassanein became disturbed. “I’m laying down a general principle that applies to you right now and to me in the future,” he said.
“You mean to say that I should find a job?”
Hassanein avoided an answer. “What do you think?” he asked.
Hussein turned to his mother. “What do you think, Mother?” he asked with a smile.
His smile affected her profoundly. She realized that he was placing his career in her hands, and that he was transferring responsibility for his future to her shoulders alone. But she would never persuade him to do anything against his will. Never, even if that meant that they must endure further humiliation for another four years. Of her three sons he was the only one who obeyed her without resentment or hesitation. So how could she permit him to become the family’s sacrificial goat?
“Hussein, your opinion will be mine, too,” she said unequivocally.
Hussein smiled mysteriously. Impelled by an irresponsible desire to annoy Hassanein, he said, “I’m thinking of continuing my higher education.”
“You’ve chosen the right thing.” Nefisa was pleased.
“This means four more lean years,” Hassanein said hesitantly.
“No, just one more year, and at the end of it, by God’s will, you’ll become an employee,” Hussein said with a grin.
Defeated, Hassanein laughed. “Perhaps,” he said apologetically, “you think that I want you to find a job to give me a chance to continue my higher education in peace and security. But, in fact, I want to relieve our suffering family. Besides, granting that to be employed on the baccalaureate is a sacrifice, you should be the one to make this sacrifice, not because I wish to deny you something which I want to get for myself, but because our family can make use of your sacrifice right now, while it has to wait another year to make use of mine.”
“This is false logic. I’m sure that you won’t agree to make any sacrifices, neither this year nor the next,” Hussein said, laughing.
The mother intervened to decide the matter once and for all. “Do what you like, Hussein. We’ve no objection,” she said.
Smiling at her serenely, he remarked, “I didn’t mean a word of what I said. I just wanted to make it clear to him that I understand him well enough. I don’t even blame him for the way he thinks; he has his reasons. Now, one of us two has to make sacrifices and accept a job. As the elder brother and having obtained the baccalaureate, it’s my duty to do so. I know how bad our circumstances are, and how wicked and cruel it would be of me to think of continuing my education. I must be content with my lot. Let’s all pray to God to help us get what we want.”
Despite their expressions of regret, Hussein could see relief in all their eyes. Sorry though he was, he experienced feelings of peace and pleasure. Our family, he thought, has almost forgotten all sense of relief and security. I should be glad to restore some such feelings to them. Why should I regret my sacrifice? To be a teacher or a clerk is all the same to me. Had our dreams been down-to-earth, we wouldn’t have subjected ourselves to sorrow and frustration.
FORTY-FIVE
“There is Ahmad Bey Yousri, your late father’s friend,” Samira said to her son. “He can find a job for you overnight.”
She remained for a while absorbed in her thoughts. “My overcoat is too shabby for me to put in an appearance before respectable people,” she continued. “I can’t go in person to him. So you go to him and take your brother along to give you courage. Only mention to the porter that you’re the late Kamel Effendi’s sons.”
In the afternoon the two brothers went to Taher Street. Arriving at the villa, as instructed by their mother they told the porter they wished to see the Bey. After a few minutes, the porter returned to lead them to the sitting room. Walking along a path through the center of the garden, they cast astonished glances at the variety of flowers, their delightful colors enlivening the place. They climbed a
Pointing to the chandelier, Hassanein said, “It’s like the chandelier in the mosque of Saidna al-Hussein.”
Hussein was preoccupied with other matters. “Yes,” he said. “But forget about the chandelier. What should we say to him? You must use your tongue to help me!”
“Do you think that you’ll be addressing the devil?” Hassanein said sarcastically. “Speak boldly, and I’ll speak too. Damn him!”
His curse, free from resentment, was intended to encourage his brother as well as himself. He was stunned by the luxurious surroundings.
“Do you think Ahmad Bey’s heirs will be sorry when he dies?” he asked in a low voice.
“Wouldn’t we be sorry for our father’s death if he were rich?” Hussein said.
Pondering, Hassanein knit his eyebrows. “I think we would,” he said. “But perhaps sorrow has different shades and gradations. Oh! Why wasn’t our father a rich man?”
“This is another question.”
“But it’s an all-important one. Tell me, how did this Bey get rich?”
“Perhaps he was born wealthy.”
Hassanein’s hazel eyes glistened. “We must all be rich,” he said.
“And if this is impossible?”
“Then we must all be poor.”
“And if this is impossible, too?”
“In that case we must revolt, murder, and steal,” he replied angrily.
“This is exactly what mankind has been doing for thousands of years,” Hussein remarked with a smile.
“It pains me to think of spending our lives in toil and squalor until we die.”
“God forbid.” Hussein smiled.
Before Hassanein could open his mouth again, they heard footsteps approaching from the veranda. Then the Bey entered, his tall, broad body garbed in a white silk suit. As he shook their hands in welcome, his laughing eyes scrutinized their faces. He said to them as he sat down, “Welcome to the sons of the dear departed. How is your mother?”
The two young men thanked him simultaneously. The man’s warm welcome thawed Hassanein’s resentment, but Hussein’s confusion returned. Ahmad Bey was afraid this meeting might involve demands for his assistance. He took it for granted that, if a request was made, he would have to comply with it. Though he was not a miser, his generosity was not voluntary. He would be upset and annoyed to be asked for help but would act generously, unable to turn down any such request.
Overcoming his confusion, Hussein spoke in a soft, courteous voice, so full of supplication and entreaty that his words seemed superfluous. “Sir, I have obtained the baccalaureate. Our family circumstances force me to look for a job. My mother has sent me to Your Excellency, and we all have great hope that you would kindly extend a helping hand to us.”
The Bey ran his fingers through his thick dyed mustache.
“A job?!” he said. “Chances of government employment are very slim nowadays. But I shall do my best, my son. I don’t think I’ll be able to find a job for you at the Ministry of Interior, but the Under Secretary of State for Education is my friend, and so is that of the Ministry of War. Fill out an application form, and I’ll write a strong letter of recommendation for you.”
Thanking him for his kind generosity, they made their farewells and departed. As they moved away, Hassanein gave the villa a last glance. Turning his eyes to his brother’s face, he found him absorbed in a contented reverie. Hassanein wondered if today his brother was rejoicing over what he had considered sacrifice the day before.
“After breathing the fragrant breeze of the full life which blows from this villa, I’m sure we can hardly count ourselves among the living,” he said.
Hussein was too preoccupied with thoughts of his employment application and the letter of recommendation to pay attention to his brother, who resentfully said, “I wonder at your calm contentment! But the pretense doesn’t deceive me.”
“What use is discontent?! It won’t change the world,” Hussein replied with a smile.
“But the world must change. There can be no doubt that we have a right to live in a clean house, eat healthy food, and enjoy a proper social status. As I look back over our life, I see that it has been no good at all.”
Hussein gazed curiously at his brother, who failed to comprehend the significance of his glance.
“Yet you enjoy love and will continue your education. Isn’t this good enough for you?” Hussein asked.
Hassanein cast a glance at his brother. He wondered what Hussein had meant by these words. He felt ill at ease and his annoyance redoubled. He gave vent to his pent-up feelings. “Hasn’t our misery driven you to sacrifice yourself?” he inquired. “We’ve elementary rights, none of which should be put aside. But where are we? How do we live? Through what sufferings our mother goes! What is Hassan’s status? And how is it possible that our sister has become a dressmaker?”
His peace of mind disturbed, Hussein frowned. Ignoring the essential point of his brother’s argument, he cried reproachfully in his brother’s face, “A dressmaker!”
Filled with excitement and agitation, Hassanein replied, “Yes. A dressmaker! Do you sincerely hate this? Do you really wish she was married like other girls?! That’s a lie. If she had married, or even if she hadn’t worked as a dressmaker, both of us would have stopped going to school and been forced to take any menial jobs we could find. This is the truth.”
Hussein’s anger increased, not because his brother’s words had failed to convince him, but because, in his heart, he believed them to be true. He knew that he wouldn’t have welcomed his sister’s marriage and consequent happiness. We devour one another, he thought. We should be pleased with Hassan’s buffoonery and frivolity as long as he visits us every month and brings along a leg of mutton. We should also be pleased with our sister the dressmaker as long as she provides us with our dry morsels of bread. And this rebellious young man should be pleased that I am discontinuing my education so that he can continue his own. We devour one another. What a brutal life this is! Perhaps my only consolation is that a superior power grinds and devours us all. But we struggle and fight back. This last thought brought him calm and peace.
No. We do not devour one another, he told his brother silently. Say no such thing (he was unaware that his brother had not, in fact, said any such thing). Never say such a thing. We’re a miserable family and countless other families are in the same boat. It’s the duty of each one of us to make every sacrifice.
Then, as they reached the doorstep, in a firm voice he asked his brother to stop arguing.
FORTY-SIX
Hussein realized that his job, for which he was willing to sacrifice so much, was not easily obtainable. He had already spent three whole months in anguish and despair, paying frequent visits to Ahmad Bey Yousri’s villa and to the Ministries of War and Education. At length the Bey informed him that he had managed to appoint him as a clerk at the secondary school in Tanta, and persuaded him to appear before the Medical Commission and prepare himself to leave for Tanta to start work on the first of October.
The young man was pleased, as was his family, but their pleasure was tinged with bitterness. Samira had been looking forward impatiently to this appointment, hoping that it would rescue the family from its misery. But his appointment in a distant town frustrated these hopes. As she wavered between joy and regret, Samira realized in her perplexity that the job would offer the family very little relief. Her son’s travel and living expenses in Cairo and Tanta were bound to exhaust his income from the job. Besides, on the horizon there appeared the dreadful shadow of a new separation, for which the family wa
This, perhaps, was the reason why he went once more to Ahmad Bey Yousri, begging him to use his influence to keep him in Cairo. But now the Bey was fed up with him; he told him that his wish was too difficult to fulfill at present. With no money to live on in Tanta until he cashed his first salary check at the beginning of the month, Hussein was confronted by a new problem. How could he obtain these initial funds? He turned to his sister, Nefisa, but she always gave her mother the bulk of her limited earnings, keeping almost nothing for herself except some money for essential clothes. Even if the rest of the furniture was sold, the proceeds would be too meager to meet his requirements.
Thus he thought of Hassan as the only possible source. He confided his thoughts to his mother, who agreed. She had no doubt that her eldest son would come to their rescue if it was at all possible for him to do so. She gave Hussein his brother’s address. He set out at once for Clot Bey Street, and there started to search for Gandab alley. At the beginning of his journey, his heart was filled with great hopes. Gradually hope gave way to anxiety, until he finally wondered whether Hassan would really give him what he needed, and whether he might lose the job just because of his inability to obtain a few pounds.