The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
She heard his stick tapping on the floor of the sitting room as he made his exit. She lost her train of thought and listened intently to the succession of taps, until he had departed. At that moment she felt the enormous pain of her situation and was furious at the iron will that had made no allowance for her weakness.
She rose feebly and left the room to go down to the first floor. At the head of the stairs she could make out the voices of the boys as they descended one after the other. She stretched her head out over the railing and caught sight of Fahmy and Kamal. They were trailing after Yasin on their way to the door that led to the courtyard. Affection rushed through her heart and overwhelmed it. She was amazed at herself. How could she let them go without saying goodbye? She would not be able to see them again for days or even weeks. Perhaps for the remainder of her life, she would see them only infrequently, as though they were strangers. She stood where she was on the stairs, without budging, while affection surged through her heart. Although her heart was filled with emotion, she could not accept the painful thought that this gloomy fate was her destiny. She had a limitless belief in God, who had protected her in the past when she was alone with the jinn. Her trust in her husband also continued undimmed. No evil had yet afflicted her that was serious enough to deprive her quiet life of its confident trust. For all these reasons, she was inclined to consider her ordeal a harsh trial through which she would pass unscathed.
She found Khadija and Aisha embroiled in a quarrel as usual, but they abandoned it when they noticed her sorrow and the dead look of her eyes. They feared, perhaps, that she had left her bed before fully recovering her health. Khadija asked anxiously, “What's the matter, Mother?”
“By God, I don't know what to say. I'm going.”
Although the last phrase emerged in a terse and impromptu fashion, it acquired a gloomy meaning from her despairing look and plaintive tone. Both girls were frightened by it and cried out together, “Where?”
She had been apprehensive beforehand about the effect her words would have on them and even on herself. Now she said brokenly, “To my mother.”
They rushed to her in alarm and said at the same time, “What are you saying? … Don't say that again___What happened?”
She found some consolation in her daughters' dismay, but - as often happens in such circumstances that only caused her sorrows to burst forth even more. Struggling with her tears, she said in a trembling voice, “He hasn't forgotten anything and hasn't forgiven anything”. She said this with an anguish that revealed the depth of her sorrow. She continued: “He was angry with me and postponed doing something about it till I recovered. Then he told me, ‘Leave my house immediately.’ He also said, don't want to find you here when I come back this noon.'” Then she remarked in a voice that betrayed both disappointment and melancholy censure. “Hear and obey… hear and obey.”
Khadija, in a state of nervous agitation, yelled at her, “I don't believe it. I don't believe it. Say something else…. What's happened to the world?”
Aisha shouted in a broken voice, “This will never do! Does our happiness mean so little to him?”
Khadija asked again, angrily and sharply, “What'she got in mind? … What doeshe plan to do, Mother?”
“I don't know. That's exactly what he said, with no additions or deletions.”
At first this was all she would say, perhaps because she wished to increase their sympathy and gather some consolation from their dismay. Then her pity for them and her desire to reassure herself got the better of her and she went on: “I suspect that all he plans to do is separate me from you for a few days to punish me for my misadventure.”
“Wasn't what happened to you enough for him?”
The mother sighed sadly and murmured, “The matter's in God's hands…. Now I must go.”
Khadija blocked her way. She said in a voice choked by sobs, “We won't let you go. Don't leave your home. I don't think he'll persist in his anger if he returns and finds you with us.”
Aisha implored her, “Wait till Fahmy and Yasin get back. Father will think twice about tearing you away from all of us.”
In rebuttal, their mother admonished them: “It's never wise to challenge his anger. A man like him becomes softer when people obey him and fiercer if people rebel.”
They tried to protest once more, but she silenced them with a motion of her hand and observed, “There's no point in talking. I've got to go. I'll gather my clothes and set off. Don't be alarmed.
We won't be separated long. We'll be reunited again, God willing.”
The woman went to her room on the second floor with the two girls at her heels. They were crying like babies. She started to remove her clothes from the armoire, but Khadija seized her hand and asked her passionately, “What are you doing?”
The mother felt that her tears were about to get the best of her. She refrained from speaking for fear her voice would give her away or she would start weeping. She was determined not to cry when her daughters could see her. She gestured with her hand as if to say, “Circumstances require me to get my clothes together.”
Khadija said sharply, “You're only going to take one change of clothing with you … just one.”
A sigh escaped from her. At that moment she wished the whole affair was a frightening dream. Then she said, “I'm afraid he'll be furious if he sees my clothing in the usual place.”
“We'll keep it in our room.”
Aisha collected her mother's clothes, except for a single outfit, as her sister had suggested. Their mother yielded to them with deep relief. It seemed to her that so long as her clothes remained in the house she retained her right to return there. She got out a bag and stuffed in it the clothing she was permitted to take. She sat down on the sofa to put on her stockings and shoes. Her daughters stood facing her. They looked at her with sad, bewildered eyes. Her heart melted at the sight and, pretending to be calm, she said, “Everything will return to normal. Be brave, so you don't make him angry at you. I entrust the house and family to you with full confidence in your abilities. Khadija, I'm certain you'll find Aisha helpful to you in every way. Do what we used to do together just as though I were with you. Each of you is a young woman fully prepared to found and nurture a home.”
She rose to get a cloth to wrap around herself. Then she lowered a white veil over her face with deliberate slowness to delay the painful, frightening final moment as long as she could. They all stood facing each other, not knowing what would come next. Her voice refused to say goodbye. Neither of the girls had the courage to fling herself into her mother's arms as she wished. Seconds ticked by, made heavy by suffering and anxiety. Finally, the woman, who had steeled herself, feared her resolve would desert her. She moved a step closer and bent toward them to kiss them,one after the other. She whispered, “Never lose heart. Our Lord is with all of us.”
At that they clung to her. They were sobbing too hard to speak.
The mother left the house, her eyes filled with tears, and the street seemed to dissolve as she looked at it through them.
33
AS SHE KNOCKED on the door of the old house she was thinking with painful embarrassment about the alarm and distress her arrival as a chastised wife would cause. The door was located on a deadend alley that branched off from al-Khurunfush Street. At the end of the alley there was a little mosque of a Sufi religious order where prayers had been said for a long period before the building was finally abandoned because of its age. The crumbling ruins were left to remind her, each time she visited her mother, of her childhood, when she would wait by the door for her father to finish his prayers and come to her. She would poke her head inside while people were praying. She found it diverting to watch the men bow and prostrate themselves on the floor. At times she would observe members of various mystical Sufi orders who met in the alley next to the mosque. They would light some lamps, spread mats on the ground, and attempt to establish contact with God by chanting His name while swaying back and forth.
“Didn't al-Sayyid Ahmad come with you?”
She shook her head and pretended to ignore the servant's astonishment. She crossed the courtyard, with the oven room in the center and a well in the left corner, and went to the narrow stairway to climb to the first and final floor. Then she passed through the vestibule into her mother's room. When she entered, she saw her mother seated cross-legged on a sofa at the front of the small chamber. She was grasping with both hands a long string of prayer beads that dangled down to her lap, and her eyes were directed inquisitively at the door. She had no doubt heard someone knock and footsteps approach. When Amina drew near, her mother asked, “Who is it?”
As she spoke, her lips parted in a gentle smile of happiness and welcome as though she had guessed the identity of the visitor. Amina answered her, in a voice made soft by her depression and sorrow, “It's me, Mother.”
The elderly woman stretched her legs out. Her feet searched the Qoor for her slippers. When they were located, she shoved her feet in. She stood up and spread out her arms eagerly. Amina threw her bag on the edge of the sofa and wrapped herself in her mother's arms. She kissed her mother on the forehead and both cheeks, while the other woman planted a kiss wherever her lips landed, on her daughter'shead, cheek, and neck. When they finished embracing, the old lady patted her on the back affectionately and stayed where she was, facing the door. The smile on her lips announced a welcome for someone else as she made the assumption Saciiqa had before. Once again, Amina understood what was implied by her posture. With vexed resignation she said, “I came by myself, Mother
Her mother turned her head toward her curiously and muttered, “By yourself?” Then, affecting a smile to ward off the anxiety that afflicted her, she added, “Glory to God, who never changes.”
She retreated to the sofa and sat down. With a voice that revealed her anxiety this time, she asked, “How are you? … Why didu't he come with you as usual?”
Amina sat down beside her. Like a pupil confessing how atrocious his answers were on an examination, she said, “He's angry at me, Mother….”
The mother blinked glumly. Then she muttered in a sad voice, “I take refuge in God from Satan, who deserves to be pelted with stones. My heart never deceives me. I was upset when you told me, came by myself, Mother.' What do you suppose made him angry at a gracious angel like yourself whom no man before him was lucky enough to possess?… Tell me, daughter.”
With a sigh, Amina said, “I went to visit the shrine of our master al-Husayn during his trip to Port Said”.Her mother reflected sadly and dejectedly. Then she asked, “How did he learn about the visit?”
From the very beginning, Amina, out of compassion for the old lady and to make her own responsibility seem lighter, had been careful not to refer to the automobile accident. Thus she gave her an answer she had worked up in advance: “Perhaps someone saw me and told on me….”
The elderly woman said sharply, “There's not a human being who would know you except the people in the house with you. Isn't there someone you suspect? … That woman Umm Hanafi? Or his son by the other woman?”
Amina quickly intervened to say confidently, “Possibly a neighbor woman saw me and told her husband, without meaning any harm, and the man brought it to al-Sayyid Ahmad's attention, without understanding the dangerous consequences. Suspect anyone you like, but not a member of my household.”
The old lady shook her head skeptically and observed, “Your whole life you've been too trusting. God alone can decipher and overcome the schemes of crafty people. But your husband? … An intelligent man going on fifty… can he find no other way to express his anger than by throwing out the companion of a lifetime and separating her from the children?… O Lord, glory to You. Most people get wiser as they get older, while we grow older and become foolhardy. Is it a sin for a virtuous woman to visit our master al-Husayn? Don't his friends, who are just as jealous and manly as he is, allow their wives to leave the house for various errands? … Your father himself, who was a religious scholar and knew the Book of God by heart, permitted me to go to neighbors' homes and watch the procession of pilgrims setting out for Mecca.”
There was a long period of despondent silence until the old woman turned toward her daughter with a perplexed, critical smile. She asked, “What tempted you to disobey him after that long life of blind obedience?… This is what puzzles me the most…. No matter how fiery his temper, he's your husband. The safest thing to do is to be careful to obey him, for your own peace of mind and for the happiness of your children. Isn't that so, daughter?… I'm amazed because I've never found you needed anybody's advice before ….”
A smile appeared at the corners of Amina's mouth, suggesting a slight relaxation of her anxiety and embarrassment. She mumbled, “The devil made me do it.”
”God's curse on him. Did the cursed one cause your feet to slip after twenty-five years of peace and harmony?… Well, he was the one who got our father Adam and our mother Eve expelled from paradise…. It makes me very sad, daughter, but it's just a summer cloud that will disperse. Everything will return to normal”. She continued as though addressing herself: “What harm would it have done him to be more forbearing? But he's a man, and men will always have enough defects to blot out the sun”. Then, pretending to be happy and welcoming, she told her daughter, “Take off your things and make yourself comfortable. Don't be alarmed. What harm will it do you to spend a short holiday with your mother in the room where you were born?”
Amira's eyes glanced inattentively at the old bed with its tarnished posts and at the shabby carpet, threadbare and frayed at the edges, even though the design of roses had retained its reds and greens. Her breast was too affected by separation from her loved ones to be receptive to a flood of distant memories. Her mother's invitation did not arouse the kind of nostalgia in her heart that memories of this room, of which she was so fond, ordinarily did. AH she could do was sigh and confess, “The only thing bothering me is that I'm anxious about my children, Mother.”
They're in God's care. You won't be away from them long, if God the Compassionate and Merciful permits”.
Arnim rose to remove her wrap while Sadiqa, sad and mournful because of what she had heard, retreated from her post by the entrance to the room, where she had remained as they talked. Amina sat down again next to her mother. They discussed the matter inside and out, backward and forward.
The juxtaposition of the two women appeared to illustrate the interplay of the amazing laws of heredity and the inflexible law of time. Ttie two women might have been a single person with her image reflected forward to the future or back into the past. In either case, the difference between the original and its reflection revealed the terrible struggle raging between the laws of heredity, attempting to keep things the same, and the law of time, pushing for change and a finale. The struggle usually results in a string of defeats for heredity, which plays at best a modest role within the framework of time. It was the law of time that had transformed Amina's elderly mother into a gaunt body with a withered face and blind eyes. There had also been internal changes hidden from the senses. All of the splendor of life that she retained was what is known as “the charm of old age” that is, a calm manner, a somber new dignity, and a head adorned with white. Although she was descended from generations of people who had lived to a ripe old age and not given up without a fight, her protest against time, once she reached seventy-five, was limited to rising in the morning in exactly the same way she had for the past fifty years and groping her way to the bathroom without any assistance from the maid. There she would perform her ablutions before returning to her room to pray
The lady's enthusiasm for work and zest for life had definitely not abandoned her. For example, she supervised every detail of the household budget, the cleaning and arranging. She took the servant to task if she spent too long on a job or was late returning from an errand. Not infrequently she made her swear on a copy of the Qur'an to assure herself of the veracity of the maid's accounts of scrubbing the bathroom, washing the pots and pans, and dusting the windows. Her meticulousness verged on paranoia. Her insistence on this may have been a continuation of a custom that became embedded in her when she was young or a flaw introduced by old age.
Her perseverance in staying on in her house in almost total isolation after the death of her spouse and her insistence on remaining there even after she lost her sight could also be attributed to this extremism of her character. She had turned a deaf ear to the repeated invitations of al-Sayyid Ahmad to move to his house, where she could be cared for by her daughter and grandchildren. In this way, she exposed herself to the accusation of being senile. Al-Sayyid Ahmad finally stopped inviting her. The truth was that she did not want to leave her house, because she was so attached to it and because she wished to avoid the unintentional neglect she might find in the new one. Her presence there might also impose new burdens on the shoulders of her daughter, who already had many weighty responsibilities. Nor was she eager to squeeze herself into a home headed by a man known to his family for his ferocity and anger. She might inadvertently fall victim to his comments and thus threaten her daughter's happiness. Finally, the sense of honor and pride she harbored deep inside herself caused her to prefer living in the house she owned, dependent only upon God and the pension left her by her late husband.