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. Khadiia 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
Nagui8 Matefou
my house immediately.' He also said, 'I 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's he got in
mind?... What does he 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."
Khadiia 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."
]n 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 Khadiia 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
PALACE WALK
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
bet 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 [ were with
you. Each of you is a young woman fully prepared to found and llrture 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.
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 dead-end 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.
When the door was opened, the head of a black servant in her
fifties peeked out. The moment she saw who it was, her face
shone and she called out to welcome the visitor. She stepped aside
to make room for her, and Amina entered. The servant waited
there as though expecting a second person. Amina understood
what her stance implied. She whispered in a vexed tone, "Close
the door, Sadiqa.".
"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?"
PALACE WALK
,201
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
floor 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's
head, 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 Sadiqa 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 didn'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,
'I 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
Naguib iVfafifou
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 u.nderstanding
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
PALACE WALK
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?"
Amina'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. All 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."
Amina 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.
The 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 rest of the day she passed with
her prayer beads, praising God and meditating in total privacy. The
Naguib Mahfou
servant was usually busy with the housework, hut when she was free
to sit with her mistress, the old lady enjoyed conversing with her.
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 Abroad
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
There were other reasons for her insistence on remaining in her
house that could not be attributed to her sensitivity or common sense,
like her fear that if she moved out of the house she would find herself
forced to choose between two options. She would either have to
allow strangers to live there, even though the house was what she
treasured most dearly, after her daughter and grandchildren, or leave
it deserted and let the iinn appropriate it as their playground, after it
had been the home of a religious scholar who knew the Qur'an by
heart--her husband. For her to move into al-Sayyid Ahmad's house
would also create awkward problems that in her opinion had no easy
VALACE WALK 20
solution. At that time she had brooded about it. Should she accept
his hospitality and give nothing in return--and she certainly would
not be comfortable with that--or surrender her pension to him in
return for staying in his house? Giving him her pension would upset
her instinctive need to own things, which, along with old age, became
one of the primary elements of her general paranoia.
At times when he urged her to move to his house she even imagined
that he had greedy designs on her pension and the house she
would vacate. She chose to refuse him with blind obstinacy. When
al-Sayyid Abroad bowed to her will, she told him with relief, "Don't
be offended by my stubbornness, son. May our Lord honor you for
the affection you have shown me. You see, don't you, that I'm just
not able to move out of my house? It's good of you to humor an old
woman with her many shortcomings. All the same, I ask you to
swear o God that you'll allow Amina and the children to visit me
from time to time, now that it's difficult for me to leave the house."
Thus she had remained in her house as she wished, enjoying her
mastery and freedom as well as many of the customs of her cherished
past. Some of these, like her excessive concern with her house and
her money, were hardly compatible with the serenity and tolerance
of wise maturity. Therefore, they appeared to be accidental infirmities
of old age. There was another practice she had retained that could
adorn youth and lend majesty to maturity. It was worship, which
continued to be the central interest of" her life and the source of her
hopes and happiness. She had absorbed religion as a young girl from
her father, who was a religious scholar. It had become deeply ingrained
in her through her marriage to another religious scholar, who
was no less pious and God-fearing than her father. She had continued
to worship with love and sincerity, although in her earnestness she
did not discriminate between true religion and pure superstition. She
was known to the women of the neighborhood as "the blessed
shaykha."
Sadiqa, the maid, was the only person who knew both her good
and bad sides. After a tiff had flared up between them, Sadiqa might
say, "My lady, wouldn't worship be a better use of your time than
quarreling and squabbling over trivial things?"
Her mistress would answer sharply, "Vile woman, you're not advising
me to pray out of love for it. All you want is to be left free to
mess around, neglect your duties, roll in filth, and loot and plunder.
God commands us to be clean and honest. Keeping close track of you
is both a form of worship and a reward."
Naguib Mahfou
Since religion played such an important role in her life, she had
held her father and then her husband in even higher esteem than that
required by their relationship. She had often envied them the honor
they had of housing the words of God and His prophet in their
breasts. She may have remembered this as she consoled and encouraged
Amina, "By expelling you from your house, al-Sayyid Ahmad
merely intended to show his anger at your failure to obey his command.
He will not do more than discipline you. Yes, evil cannot befall
a woman who had a father and grandfather like yours."
Amina was cheered by the reference to her father and grandfather.
She was like a person lost in the dark who hears the voice of the
watchman calling out. Her heart believed what her mother had said,
not only because she was eager to be reassured but because she believed
in the sanctity of those two departed scholars. She was a replica
of her mother in body, faith, and most traits of character. At that
moment, memories of her father swarmed into her mind. When she
was a girl, he had filled her heart with love and faith. She prayed to
God to rescue her from her predicament out of respect for his holiness.
The old lady returned to her consoling remarks. With a tender
smile on her dry lips she said, "God in His compassion is always
looking out for you. Remember the epidemic, may God never repeat
it. God spared you and took your sisters. You weren't harmed at all."
A smile triumphed over Amina's gloom and appeared on her lips.
She searched back through a twilight region of the past almost obliterated
by forgetfulness. Out of a jumble of memories she could discern
clearly an image that awakened echoes within her from that
terrible era. She was a little girl skipping outside closed doors behind
which her sisters were stretched out on beds of sickness and death.
She was by the window watching the endless stream of coffins go by
as people fled from them. Another time she was listening to the
masses of people who, in their terror and despair, sought out a religious
leader like her father. They were lamenting and praying fervently
to the Lord of the heavens. Despite the serious threat to her
and the loss of all her sisters, she had escaped safe and unharmed
from the clutches of the epidemic. The only thing disturbing her serenity
had been the lemon juice and onion she had been forced to
consume once or twice a day.
Her mother started speaking again, in a tender and affectionate
voice that revealed she was abandoning herself to her dreams. Memory
seemed to have taken her back to a bygone age. She was recalling
the life and memories of that time, which were dear and precious
PALACE WALK 207
because of their association with her youth. With the pains forgotten,
they were cleansed of any blemish. She remarked, "It was your good
fortune that not only were you saved from the epidemic but you were
treasured as the only child left in the family. You were all the family
possessed in this world, its hope, consolation, and happiness. You
flourished in a nursery formed by our hearts."
After these words, Amina no longer saw the room the way she
had before. Now everything had the freshness of youth breathed back
into it: the walls, carpet, bed, her mother, and Amina herself. Her
father had returned to life and taken his customary place. Once again
she listened to his whispered expressions of love and affection. She
was dreaming of the stories of the prophets and their miracles, recalling
the extraordinary exploits of good people against the infidels,
from the Prophet's companions down to the struggle of the nineteenth-century
Egyptian patriot Urabi Pasha against the English. Her
past life was resurrected along with its magical dreams and promising
hopes for happiness.
Then the old lady said, as though drawing a conclusion from the
premises she had previously laid out, "Hasn't God preserved and
protected you?"
Although the comment was meant to console her, it made her remember
Дата добавления: 2015-09-29; просмотров: 25 | Нарушение авторских прав
| <== предыдущая лекция | | | следующая лекция ==> |