The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street by Naguib Mahfouz
If the mother's desire to keep the peace had not been so strong, Khadija would have exploded angrily with unfortunate results. She revealed her resentment in more covert ways that were not a threat to the peace. For example, since she could not openly state her opinion about the carriage rides, she exaggerated the way she showed her astonishment. Gazing at the face of the speaker, she would cry out, “Oh, my goodness!” She might strike her breast and exclaim, “The men passing by saw you walking in the park?” Again, she might say, “My Lord, I would never have thought that possible,” or other similar things. Her words did not express any disapproval, but her dramatic or melodramatic tone implied more than one: meaning, like the scolding tone assumed by a father who is reciting from the Qur'an and saying his prayers when he notices that his son nearby has acted improperly or impolitely, for that is easier than breaking off his prayers and scolding his child openly.
To relieve her rage, as soon as Khadija was alone with Yasin she told him, “Goodness gracious, what a promenader your wife is.”
He laughingly answered, “That is the Turkish fashion. It's hard for you to understand.”
The word “Turkish” reminded her of Zaynab's boasts of her ancestry, which Khadija found hard to bear. She commented, “By the way, the lady of the house brags a lot about her Turkish ancestry. Why? Because the grandfather of the grandfather of the grandfather of the grandfather of her grandfather was Turkish? Watch out, brother. Turkish women end up going crazy.”
Countring her sarcasm, he replied, “I prefer insanity to a preson who has anose the whould drive any one good taste crazy”.
The battle brewing between Khadija and Zaynab was evident to members of the family with any ability to predict the future. Fahmy warned Khadija to watch her tongue lest the other girl learn of her rude remarks. He also secretly cautioned Kamal, who kept flitting back and forth between them and the bride like a butterfly carrying pollen from flower to flower. But Fahmy could not have foreseen, no more than anyone else in the family, that fate was at work to separate the two girls.
Widow Shawkat and Aisha paid the house a visit crowned with an ending none of them could have imagined. In the presence of Khadija, the old lady addressed the mother: “Mrs. Amina, I have come to visit you today in order to ask for Khadija's hand for my son Ibrahim.”
It was a joy that came with no warning, although they had awaited it for an unbearably long time. The woman's words were beautiful poetry to the mother's ears. Amina could not remember any previous statement ever bringing such a balm of comfort and peace to her breast. She was almost giddy with happiness when she replied in a trembling voice, “Khadija's no more mine than yours. She's your daughter. She will certainly find twice as much happiness in your custody as she has in her father's home.”
This happy conversation went on for some time, but Khadija's attention drifted away. She was in a kind of daze. She lowered her eyes from modesty and confusion. The mocking spirit that so often gleamed in her eyes abandoned her. She became uncommonly meek and yielded to the current of her thoughts. The proposal had come as a surprise, and what a surprise. Troublesome when absent, it was incredible now that it had taken place. But her happiness was almost submerged by a wave of consternation. “To ask for Khadija's hand for my son Ibrahim…”. What had come over him? Despite his languor, which had aroused her ridicule, he had a handsome face. He was a prince among men. So what had come over him?
“It's fortunate that the two sisters will be united in one home.”
The voice of Widow Shawkat confirmed the reality and vouched for it. There was no doubt about it, then. Ibrahim had as much money and status as Khalil. The fates had reserved a fine destiny for her. How unhappy she had been when Aisha married first. She had not known that Aisha's marriage was destined to open the doors of good fortune for her.
“How lovely it is that the sister-in-law will also be a sister. This will remove one of the basic causes for headaches in a family”. She laughed and continued: “That leaves only her mother-in-law and think she'll be easy to deal with.”
“Since her sister-in-law is her sister, then her mother-in law will be a mother for her.”
The two mothers continued to compliment each other. Khadija loved the old lady who brought her these glad tidings as much as she had tiated her when she came to ask for Aisha's hand. Maryam must be told the news today. She could not bear to put it off She did not know the reason for this insistent desire. Perhaps it was Maryam's comment about Aisha's engagement: “How would it have hurt them to wait until you got engaged?” At the time Khadija had been suspicious of the question's apparent innocence.
When the Shawkat family had left, Yasin wanted to tease and provoke Khadija. He remarked, “As soon as I saw Ibrahim Shawkat I told myself, ‘This ox of a man, who looks incapable of distinguishing between black and white, will probably choose a wife like,’ Khadija someday.'”
Khadija smiled briefly but said nothing. Yasin cried out in astonishtnent, “Have you finally learned manners and modesty?” Even as he teased her, his face revealed his pleasure and delight for her.
Nothing spoiled their good cheer until Kamal asked anxiously, “Is Khadija going to leave us too?”
To console him and herself, his mother replied, “Sugar Street's not far away.”
Kamal could not express what he felt with complete freedom until he was alone with his mother that night. He sat on the sofa facing her and asked in a voice of protest and reproach, “What's happened to your mind, Mother? … Are you going to give up Khadija the way you abandoned Aisha?”
She explained to him that she was not abandoning either of the girls but was pleased by what would make them happy. As though pointing out something she had overlooked before and was about to overlook again, he warned, “She'll leave us too. Perhaps you think she'll return, the way you did with Aisha. But she won't return. If she visits you, it'll be as a guest. The moment she's drunk her coffee, she'll tell you goodbye. I say quite frankly that she'll never return.”
Then, cautioning and preaching at the same time, he continued: “You'll find yourself alone with no companion. Who will help you sweep and dust?… Who will assist you in the oven room? Who will keep us company in the evening? … Who will make us laugh? You won't find anyone except Umm Hanafi, who will see the way clear to steal all our food.”
She explained to him that happiness has a price. He protested, “Who told you marriage brings happiness? I can tell you that there's absolutely no happiness in marriage. How can anyone be happy when separated from his mother?”
He added fervently, “And she doesn't want to get married any more than Aisha did before her. She told me that one night in her bed.”
His mother argued that a girl needs to get married. Then he could not keep himself from saying, “Who says a girl's got to go to the home of strangers? What will she do if that other man makes her sit in a chaise longue and takes her chin in his hand too and…?”
She scolded him and ordered him not to talk about things that did not concern him. Then he struck his hands together and warned her, “You can do what you want… but you'll see.”
That evening Amina was kept awake by her happiness as though by brilliant moonlight. She stayed awake until after midnight when her husband returned and she told him the good news. Despite his strange ideas about the marriage of a daughter, he received the news with such delight that it cleared the hangover from hishead. But he frowned suddenly and asked, “Has Ibrahim been allowed to see her?”
The woman asked herself why his delight, which was so rare, could not have lasted longer than half a minute. She mumbled anxiously, “His mother…”
He interrupted her angrily, “Has Ibrahim been allowed to see her?”
For the first time that evening her happiness deserted her, and she said, “Once when we were in Aisha's apartment he entered the room as a member of the family. I did not see anything wrong with that.”
He observed furiously, “But I didn't know about it.
Everything pointed to an evil outcome. Would he deal the girl's future a fatal blow? She could not keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. Ignoring his sullen anger, she said, before she knew what she was doing, “Master, Khadija's life is in your custody. It's hardly likely that fortune will smile at her a second time.”
He th rew her a harsh look and began to snarl, growl, mutter, and grumble as though his anger had reduced him to communicating with the sounds his first ancestors had used. But he said nothing more. He had perhaps intended from the start to agree but had refused to yield until he had expressed his anger, like a politic] an who attacks an opponent, even though supporting the same goal, in order to defend his principles.
46
DURING HIS honeymoon Yasin devoted all his energy to his new life as a married man. Since his wedding coincided with his summer holiday, he did not have to depart for work during the day. At night he did not go out in search of entertainment and left the house only for a pressing necessity like buying a bottle of cognac. Otherwise, he found no employment, meaning, or identity outside the conjugal framework. He poured himself into marriage with all the energy, enthusiasm, and optimism of a man who imagined he was carrying out the initial steps of a huge program for carnal enjoyment that would last day after day, month after month, and year after year.
During the final ten days of the month, he realized he had been a little too optimistic in at least one respect. A flaw he did not completely understand had appeared in his life. He was extremely perplexed and for the first time ever suffered from that illness native to the human soul known as boredom. He had not experienced it before when he was with Zanuba or even with the woman who sold doum palm fruit, because they had not been his property the way Zaynab was. She was securely settled in his own home. This secure, peaceful form of ownership inspired a kind of apathy. Marriage's external appearance was beguiling, tempting enough to die for, but inside it was so staid and sedate that a person might become indifferent or disgusted. It was like a trick chocolate presented on April Fools' Day with garlic stuffed inside the sweet coating. What a calamity it was that the intoxication of body and soul should be lost in a self-conscious, mechanical, planned, repetitive, and cold habit that destroyed the emotion and novelty of married love. In the same manner a tranquil, spiritual vision may be transformed into a verbal prayer inattentively repeated by rote.
The young man began to wonder what had happened to his rebellious nature and what had calmed his demons. Why washe satiated? How had that happened? Where had the temptation gone? Where was the old Yasin and where was Zaynab? Where were the dreams? Was marriage itself at fault or washe? What if months went by followed by more months? Yasin had not lost all desire for his wife, but it was no longer the desire of a fasting person for a tasty delicacy. He was appalled to find his desire becalmed when he had expected it to flourish. His perplexity was increased by the fact that the girl showed no comparable reaction. As a matter of fact, her vivacity and desire had increased. When he would think that sleep had become a necessity after such a long period of activity, before he knew it her leg would be flung over his as if of its own accord. So he told himself, “How amazing … she's the one who's realizing my dreams for our marriage.”
In addition to all this, although he had enjoyed it at first, now when he embraced her he was embarrassed, because it ultimately made him lose himself in memories to which he thought he had said farewell forever. Zanuba and his other women rose from the depths to dominate his mind the way objects thrown into the sea float to the surface when a storm is over. He had entered the nest of matrimony with no leftover desires and a heart full of good intentions, but after comparing, contrasting, and pondering his alternatives, he became convinced that a bride was not the magic key to the world of women. He did not know how he could really be faithful to the good wishes with which he had strewn the path of matrimony. It seemed that at least one aspect of his naive dreams would be difficult to achieve - namely, his assumption that in the arms of his wife he would have no need for anything else in the world and would be able to remain in her shelter his whole life. That had merely been a dream inspired by his innocent lust. He would find it increasingly difficult to cut himself off from his former world and habits, and what need was there for that? He had to search for some method or other to escape frequently from himself, his thoughts, and his failure. Similarly, when even an excellent singer spends too much time on the instrumental preludes to his vocal improvisations, the listener feels a desire for the main part of the piece to begin.
Liberation from his prison would also give him a chance to meet with some of his married friends. Perhaps they had reassuring answers to the perplexing questions that troubled him, even if not a panacea for every malady. From this moment on, how could he believe a panacea existed? The best thing would be for him to stop trying to make long-range plans that would soon come to naught and mock his vision. He should satisfy himself with proceeding in life a step at a time so that he could see where he was ending up. He would begin by acting on a suggestion that she, his wife, had made for them to go out together.
To the family's amazement, Yasin and his wife left the house without informing anyone of their destination, even though they had both been chatting with them that evening. Because of the lateness of the hour and because they were residents of the home of al-Sayyid Ahmad, their excursion seemed a strange event and aroused various suspicions. Khadija did not hesitate to summon Nur, the bride's servant, to ask her what she knew about her mistress's outing. With great simplicity, the maid answered in her ringing voice, “Lady, they went to Kishkish Bey.”
Khadija and her mother both exclaimed at the same time, “Kishkish Bey!”
They were not unfamiliar with that name, which had taken the world by storm. Everyone and his brother were singing the songs about this vaudeville character created by al-Rihani, but all the same he seemed as distant as a legendary hero or the zeppelin, that Satan of the skies. For Yasin to take his wife to see him was an extremely different matter. They might as well have been hauled into court. The mother cast her eyes back and forth between Khadija and Fahmy and asked with apparent fear, “When will they return?”
With an inane smile decorating his lips, Fahmy replied, “After midnight, perhaps a little before dawn.”
Their mother excused the servant and waited until her footsteps could no longer be heard. Then she blurted out emotionally, “What's come over Yasin? He sat here with us in full control of his senses___Hashe stopped worrying about what his father will think?”
Khadija said resentfully, “Yasin's too smart to plan a trip like this. It's not sense that he lacks, but he's too meek. That doesn't suit a man. I'll cut off my arm if she isn't the one who goaded him into it.”
Motivated by a desire to lighten the tense atmosphere, although he instinctively shunned his brother's recklessness, Fahmy said, “Yasin's always liked the theater.”
His defense of Yasin increased Khadija's anger. She burst out: “It's not Yasin and his likes or dislikes that concern us. He can love places of amusement all he wants or continue to stay out until dawn whenever he wants, but to take his cloistered wife with him is an idea that could not have originated with him. Perhaps it came up because it was obvioushe wouldn't be able to resist, especialy now that he's so docile, like a house cat in her arms. So far as I can tell, she would not think twice about this. Haven't you heard her describe her excursions with her father? If she had not inspired him to do it, he wouldn't have taken her with him to Kishkish Bey. What a scandal!… In these dark days when grown men hide at home like mice in their holes for fear of the Australians.”
The incident had stirred everyone so deeply that, whether they supported it, opposed it, or were neutral, they kept commenting on it. Only Kamal followed the heated discussion with alert silence. He could not grasp the secret that had turned Kishkish Bey into a reprehensible crime meriting all this discussion and distress. Was not Kishkish the model for the lit
His question broke into their conversation like a Western theme incorporated into a purely Eastern piece of music. Khadija commented, “From now on we'll know to excuse you for your lack of sense.”
PALACE WALK
333
A laugh escaped from Fahmy. He observed, “The son of the goose is a good swimmer.”
The proverb did not sound right to him once he said it, and the surprised stares from his mother and Khadija confirmed that it had not been well received. He realized his unintentional slip and, feeling upset and embarrassed, corrected himself: “The brother of the goose is a good swimmer…. That's what I meant to say.”