The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
Yasin and Fahmy exchanged a glance that revealed they felt they were choking. That sensation was rapidly overwhelming them. Yet neither of them dared to open his mouth for fear his words would lead to his selection as the sacrificial lamb. Like a mouse succumbing to a cat, each waited for the outcome of the discussion. Khadija left the general plane to get specific and turned toward Yasin. She said, “You're our oldest brother. In addition to that, you're an employee - in other words, you're really a man. You're the one best suited for this mission.”
Yasin breathed in deeply and then exhaled. He was playing with his fingers in obvious anxiety. He stammered, 'Our father has a fiery temper and does not accept corrections for his opinions. I, for my part, am no longer a boy. I have become a man and an employee, as you pointed out. What I fear most is that he'll get angry and I'll lose control of myself and become angry too.”
Despite their shattered nerves and sad spirits, they had to smile. Aisha almost laughed and hid her face in her hands. It was possibly their tension itself that helped them smile so they could get some temporary relief from it and their pain. At times people who are extremely sad become lighthearted for the most trivial reasons, merely to obtain the relief furnished by the exactly opposite condition. In other words, the family considered what Yasin had said a joke deserving sarcastic laughter. He himself realized better than anyone else how totally incapable he was of even thinking about getting angry or contending with his father. He was the first to recognize that he had only said that to keep from having to confront his father and out of fear of his wrath. When he saw they were making fun of him, all he could do was smile along with them and shrug his shoulders as though to say, “Leave me alone.”
Fahmy was the only one careful not to smile too much. He was afraid he might get tapped even before his smile had faded. His fears were confirmed when Khadija turned away from Yasin with scornful despair and told Fahmy with affectionate entreaty, “Fahmy… you're our man!”
He raised his eyebrows in confusion and gave her a look that seemed to say, “You know very well what the consequences will be”. He did in fact possess qualities none of the rest of the family had. He was a law student and the most intellectual and influential of the children. He could control himself well in awkward situations and had demonstrated his courage and manliness. To appear before his father, however, was enough to cause all his strengths of character to vanish, leaving blind obedience his only recourse. He seemed not to know what to say. Khadija nodded her head to tell him to speak. In dismay he observed, “Do you think he's going to accept my request? No. He'll rebuff me and say, ‘Don't interfere in what doesn't concern you.’ That's if he doesn't get angry and say even worse things to me.”
Yasin was comforted by this wise statement, which he found could also serve as a defense for himself. As though completing his brother's thought, he commented, 'Our meddling might lead to our bein g examined again about our position on the day she went out… We'll be exposing ourselves to charges we won't know how to rebut.”
The arl turned on him, enraged and furious. She said bitterly and sarcastically, “We won't expect any help from you. You've done enough harm already.”
Fahmy had derived some new energy from the instinct of self-preservation. He said, “Let's think about this matter in the broadest possible terms. I think he won't accept a request from me or Yasin, since he considers us accomplices against him in this error. The case will be lost if one of us tries to defend her. But if either of you girls spoke to him, perhaps you would succeed in appealing to his sympathies. Even in the worst case you would only meet with a calm rejection free of any violence. Why doesn't one of you speak to him? … You, for example, Khadija?”
The girl had fallen into the trap. Her heart sank and she glared at Yasin, not Fahmy. She said, “I thought this was a job more suitable for men.”
Fahmy continued his nonviolent offensive, saying, “The reverse is true, if we focus on the success of the endeavor. Let's not forget that all your lives you two have been exposed to his anger only on rare occasions that don't count. He's as used to being gentle with you as he is to being brutal to us.”
Khadija bowed her head thoughtfully. She did not try to hide her anxiety. She seemed to fear that if she was silent too long the attack against her would intensify and she would be drafted into the dangerous mission. She raised her head to say, “If you're right, then it would be better for Aisha to talk to him than me.”
“Me!… Why?” Aisha spoke with the alarm of a person who findsherself on the firing line after calmly assuming for a long time the position of a spectator with no special involvement in the case. Since she was young and still something of a pampered child, she was not entrusted with anything important, let alone the most perilous assignment any of them could have. Even Khadija could think of no clear justification for her suggestion, but she insisted on it with an obstinacy overflowing with bitter irony. She replied to her sister, “We need your golden hair and blue eyes for our project to succeed.”
“What do my hair and eyes have to do with a confrontation with Father?”
At that moment Khadija was not so interested in being convincing as she was desperate to find a way to escape, even if she had to distract their minds with matters that were almost humorous to prepare for her retreat and escape by the safest possible route. A person in trouble who lacks an adequate line of defense will resort to humor in order to allow himself to escape in happy clamor rather than let himself be subjected to scorn and condescending laughter. Khadija said, “I know they have a magical effect on everyone who comes in contact with you … Yasin, Fahmy… even Kamal. Why shouldn't they have the same effect on Father?”
Aisha blushed and said in panic, “How could I speak to him about something like this when my mind becomes a complete blank the moment his eyes light on me?”
Then, after everyone in succession had evaded this dangerous task and no one felt directly threatened, they all found that their salvation had not spared them from feeling guilty. In fact, it was possibly the main reason they felt that way. In a crisis a person will concentrate his thoughts on saving himself. Once he is safe, his conscience will start to give him trouble. Similarly, when a member of the body is ill, the body drains vital energies from other areas to try to heal it. When the diseased member recovers, these energies must be redistributed equally to other, neglected parts of the body. Khadija seemed to be trying to assuage her feeling of guilt when she said, “Since none of us is able to speak to Papa, let's ask Maryam's mother to help us.”
The moment she mentioned the name Maryam she noticed Fahmy's involuntary reaction. Their eyes met for an instant. The young man was uncomfortable with her suggestion. He turned his face away, pretending to be uninterested. No one had mentioned this narre in his presence since his idea of getting engaged to her had been renounced. Everyone had either respected his feelings or felt that IVlaryam had acquired a new significance after Fahmy had admitted his love for her. She had entered the corps of sacrosanct topics that house rules did not permit to be discussed openly in the presence of the person involved. Even so, Mary am herself had continued to visit the family, pretending she did not know what had taken place in secret.
Yasin did not miss the awkward exchange between Fahmy and Khadija. He wanted to blunt the probable outcome by shifting their attention in a new direction. Putting his hand on Kamal's shoulder, he said in a half-sarcastic and half-provocative way, “Here's the right man for us. He's the only one who can beg his father tc give him back his mother.”
No one took his words seriously, particularly not Kamal. All the same, the next day when the boy was walking across Bayt al-Qadi Square on his way home from school, after spending most of the day thinking about his banished mother, he suddenly remembered what Yasin had said. He stopped going toward Qirrniz Alley and headed back to al-Nahhasin Street. His sad heart was pounding with distress and pain. He proceeded to al-Nahhasin with slow steps. Hs had not made up his mind about what
When al-Sayyid Ahmad turned to go back into the store, his eyes fell on the boy who was looking at him in bewilderment. The father was astonished to see him standing there like that. Al-Sayyid Ahmad's features quickly regained their serious and sedate expression. Scrutinizing his son's face, he asked him, “What brings you?
At once, despite the boy's bewilderment, his soul was permeated by the instinct of self-defense. He went up to his father and stretched out his small hand. He leaned over and kissed his father's hand politely and deferentially, without uttering a word. Al-Sayyid Ahmad asked, “Do you want something?”
Kamal swallowed but did not find anything to say. Choosing to remain on the safe side, he remarked that he wanted nothing and was simply on his way home.
His father was impatient and noticed the boy's anxious expression. He told him roughly, “Don't stand there like a statue. Tell me what you want.”
The roughness of his father's voice penetrated Kamal'sheart and he trembled. He was tongue-tied. His words were stuck to the roof of his mouth. Al-Sayyid Ahmad became even more impatient and shouted at him sharply, “Speak___Have you forgotten how?”
The boy summoned all his strength for one purpose and that was to end his silence at any cost and save himself from his father's anger. He opened his mouth to say anything that would come out: “I was on my way home from school….”
“What made you stand here like an idiot?”
“I saw… I saw your honor, so I wanted to kiss your hand.”
A skeptical look appeared in the gentleman's eyes. Dryly and sarcastically he remarked, “Is that all there is to it?… Did you miss me so much? Couldn't you have waited till tomorrow morning to kiss my hand, if that's what you wanted? … Listen… you better not have done something wrong at school…. I'll find out all about it.”
Kamal replied quickly and uneasily, “I haven't done anything. I swear by our Lord.”
His patience exhausted, the man said, “Then go…. You've wasted my time for nothing…. Get lost!”
Kamal started off. He was so shaken he was barely able to see where he was putting his feet. Al-Sayyid Ahmad moved to go back into his store. The moment his father's eyes turned away, the boy revi ved. Afraid the man would leave and the opportunity be lost, without pausing to consider what he was doing Kamal shouted, “Bring back Mama, God help you”. Then he sped away as fast as the wind.
35
AL-SAYYID AHMAD was having his afternoon coffee in his room when Khadija entered and said in a voice that was so deferential it was barely audible, “Our neighbour Umm Maryam wishes to see you, sir.”
Her father asked in amazement, “The wife of Mr. Muhammad Ridwan? What does she want?”
“I don't know, Papa.”
Attempting to curb his amazement, he ordered her to show the woman in. Although it did not happen often, this would not be the first time one of the respectable ladies from the neighborhood came to call on him, either for some matter relating to his business or because he was trying to reconcile her and a husband who was one of his friends. All the same, he thought it unlikely that this lady was coming to see him for one of these reasons. While he was wondering about this, he happened to think of Maryam and his discussion with his spouse concerning a possible engagement; but how could there be any connection between that secret, which would not have gone beyond the limits of his family circle, and this visit? Then he thought of Mr. Muhammad Ridwan and the possibility that the visit had some link to him. Yet he had never been anything more than a neighbor. Their relationship had never been elevated to the rank of friendship. In former times they had visited each other only when it was necessary. Once the other man became paralyzed, he had called on him a few times, but after that he had knocked on his door only during the religious festivals.
In any case, Maryarn's mother, Umm Maryam, was no stranger to him. He remembered she had been in his store once to buy some items. On that occasion she had introduced herself to him to assure herself favorable treatment. He had been as generous with her as her thought appropriate for a good neighbor. Another time he had met her at the door of his house when his departure coincided with her arrival. Although accompanied by her daughter, she had astonished him then with her daring, for she had greeted him openly, saying, “Good afternoon, your honor, sir.”
His dealings with his friends had taught him that some of them were lenient where he was strict. He was extreme in his insistence on retaitiing traditional standards for his family. These other men saw nothing wrong with their wives going out to visit or shop. They were not disturbed by an innocent greeting like Umm Maryam's. Despite his ultraconservative, Hanbali bias in religion, he was not one to attack his friends over what they found appropriate for them and their women. Indeed, he saw nothing wrong with the fact that some of the more distinguished ones took their wives and daughters along when they went in a carriage for outings in the countryside or to frequent wholesome places of entertainment. All he would do was repeat the saying “You've got your religion and I've got mine”. In other words, he was not inclined to impose his views blindly on other people. Although he could distinguish what really was good from what was bad, he was not willing to embrace every “good” thing. In that respect he was influenced by his sternly traditional nature, so much so that he considered his wife's visit to the shrine of al-Husayn a crime deserving the gravest punishment he had meted out during his second marriage. For these reasons, he had felt an astonishment mixed with panic when Umm Maryam had greeted him, but he had not thought any the worse of her.
Tie heard someone clearing her throat outside his door. He perceived that the visitor was warning him she was about to enter. When she did come in, she was swathed in her wrap and her face was concealed behind a black veil. Large black eyes enhanced by kohl could be seen on either side of the golden cylinder connecting her veil to her scarf. She brought her ample and corpulent body with its swaying hips close to him. He rose to greet her. Putting out his hand, he said, “Welcome. You honor our house and family.”
She b eld her hand out to him after wrapping it in a corner of her cloth, so she would not nullify his state of ritual cleanliness. She replied, “Sir, your honor, may our Lord hold you in high esteem.”
He invited her to have a seat. Then he sat down and asked her for the sake of politeness, “How is al-Sayyid Muhammad?”
As though the question had reminded her of her sorrows, she sighed audibly and responded, “Praise to God who is the only one we praise for adversity. May our Lord be gracious to all of us.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad shook hishead as though he were grieved and murmured, “May our Lord
The exchange of pleasantries was followed by a short silence while the lady began to prepare for the serious conversation that had brought her. She resembled a musician preparing to sing after the instrumental prelude has ended. Al-Sayyid Ahmad lowered his eyes decorously while retaining a smile on his lips to announce his welcome for the expected conversation. She said, “Al-Sayyid Ahmad, you're such a chivalrous person that you're proverbial throughout the whole district. A person who comes to you and appeals to your chivalry is not disappointed.”
Although he was wondering to himself, “What's behind all this,” he murmured modestly, “I ask God's forgiveness.”
“The fact is that I came just now to visit my sister Umm Fahmy. How appalled I was to learn that she's not here in her house and that you're angry with her.”
The woman fell silent to gauge the effect of her words and to hear what he might think of them. For his part, al-Sayyid Ahmad took refuge in silence, as though he could not think of anything to say. Although he felt uncomfortable that this topic had been raised, the smile of welcome remained plastered on his lips.
“Is there a lady finer than Umm Fahmy? She is a wise and modest lady, a neighbor for twenty years or more. During that time we have never heard anything but the nicest things about her. What could she possibly have done that would merit the anger of a just man like you?”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad persisted in his silence and ignored her question. Some ideas occurred to him that increased his discomfort. Had the woman merely come to the house by accident or had she been invited to carry out some schemer's plan?… Khadija? Aisha? Amina herself? The children would never tire of defending their mother. Could he forget how Kamal had dared to scream in his face and ask him to bring back his mother? That incident had led to a beating so fiery that smoke had poured from the boy's ears.