be answered and that his pure emotion would suffer a crisis that
s,oil it. In the same tone of entreaty he said, "Forget these
°e' oth the good and the bad ones. Your health is more imporneOl
..
ant now than anymmg else.
She patted his hand, as if asking for his affection and tenderness.
She whispered, "There are things I should have done. I haven't done
all that I should have for God. I wish I could live longer to make up
for some of the things I've neglected. But my hea has always been
full of hith, with God as my witness."
As though defending both her and himself, he remarked, "The
heaa's everything. It's more important to God than fasting and
pyer."
She pressed his hand gratefully. Then she changed the direion of
the conversation. She told him welcomingly, "You've finally returned
to me. I didn't dare ask you to come till the illness brought me to the
state you see. I felt I was saying goodbye to life, and I couldn't bear
to leave it without seeing you. When I sent for you I was more afraid
of your refusal than of death itself. But you've had mercy on your
mother and come to bid her farewell. So accept my thanks and my
prayers, which I hope God will heed."
He was deeply touched but did not know how to express his
feelings. Either because of his shyness or lack of practice, loving
words felt awkward and clumsy in his mouth whenever he tried
to address them to this woman, whom he had grown accustomed
to spurning and treating roughly. He discovered he could most ef
feaively
and sensitively express himself with his hand. He gently
pressed hers and mumbled, "May our Lord make your destiny a safe
0e."
Sh kept referring back to the idea expressed in her previous state
ment,
repeating the same words or finding other ways to put it. She
paced her conversation by swallowing with noticeable difficulty or
by falling silent for sho periods while she caught her breath. or
this reason, he repeatedly implored her to refrain from talking, but
she would smile to cut him off and then continue her conversation.
She Stopped as her face showed she had ust thought of something
siificant. She asked, "Have you gotten married"
He raised his eyebrows in embarrassment and blushed but she
isinterpreted his reaction and hastened to apologize: "I'm not
set Of ourse, [ would have liked to see your wife and children,
hat it's enough for me to know you're happy."
Naguib Ma/fou
He could not keep himself from responding tersely, "I'm not mar.
tied anymore. I got divorced about a month ago."
For the first time he noticed an interested look in her eyes. Ifthe
had still been able to sparkle they would have, but a dreamy
emanated from them as though coming through a thick curtain, one
murmured, "You're divorced, son.... How sorry I am."
He quickly replied, "Don't be sorry. I'm not sorry or sad." He
smiled and continued: "She left. Good riddance."
But she asked sadly, "Who chose her for you... him or her?."
In a manner that suggested he wished to close the door on
subject, he answered, "God chose her. Everything's fated and destined."
"I
know that, but who chose her for you? Was it your
mother?"
"Oh no. My father chose her. There was nothing wrong with his
choice. She was from a good family. It was just a question of fate
and destiny, as I said."
"Fate, destiny, and your father's choice," she observed coldly.
"That's what it was["
After a short pause she asked, "Pregnant?"
"Yes.... "
She sighed and commented: "May God make your father's life
difficult."
He deliberately allowed her remark to go unchallenged, as though
it were a sore that might not itch anymore if he did not scratch it.
They were both silent. The woman closed her eyes from fatigue but
soon opened them and smiled at him. She asked him in a tender
voice, with no edge of emotion to it, "Do you think you can forget
the past?"
He lowered his eyes and shuddered, feeling an almost irresistil
urge to flee. He implored her, "Don't go back over the past. Let tt
depart, never to return."
Perhaps his heart did not mean it, but his tongue had found t
right thing to say. The statement may even have accurately expressed
his feeling at the moment, when he was totally absorbed by the current
situation. His phrase, "Let it depart, never to return," may have
sounded odd to his ears and heart, leaving anxiety in its wake, but
he refused to ponder it. He fled from ath.at.su..b!ect and clung to his
sincere emotion, which he had beenuetctn,,,,,ed not to relinquish
from the beginning.
PALACE WALK
His mother asked again, "Do you love your mother the way you
did in the happy days?"
patting her hand, he replied, "I love her and pray for her safety."
lie soon found himself richly repaid for his a.nxiety and inner
struggle by the look of peace and deep contentment that spread over
her withered face. He felt her hand squeeze his, as though to tell him
of the gratitude she felt. They exchanged a long, dreamy, calm, smiling
look that radiated an ambiance of reassurance, affection, and sorrow
throughout the room. She no longer seemed to want to talk or
perhaps it was too much effort for her. Her eyelids slowly drooped
until they closed. He looked at her questioningly but did not move.
Then her lips opened a little and a delicate, recurrent snoring could
be heard.
He sat up straight and scrutinized her face. Then he closed his eyes
for a bit while he conjured up the image of her other face with which
she had looked at him the year before. He felt depressed, and the fear
that had dogged him on his way over returned. Would he ever be
permitted to see this face again? With what emotions would he encounter
her if he returned? He did not know. He did not want to try
to picture what lay in the world of the unknown, the future. He
wanted his mind to stop and to follow events, not to try to anticipate
them. He was afflicted by fear and anxiety. It was strange... he had
wanted to flee when he was listening to her talk, so much that he
had thought he would be relieved if she fell asleep, but now that he
was alone he felt afraid. He did not know why. He wished she would
wake up from her nap and start talking again. How long should he
wait?... Suppose she stayed sound asleep until morning? He could
not spend that much time at the mercy of fear and anxiety. He had
to set a limit to his pains The next day or the day after that
congratulations or condolences would be in order. Congratulations
or condolences?... Which would he prefer? The uncertainty had to
end. "Whether it's congratulations," he thought, "or condolences, I
mustn't anticipate events. The most that can be said is that if we are
fated to part now, we've parted friends. It will be a good ending to
a bad life. But if God prolongs her life..."
While his mind wandered, his glance roamed about, until his eyes
fell on the mirror of the wardrobe that stood opposite him. He could
th.tsee reflected in it the bed with his mother's body stretched out under
if°anket and he saw himself, almost blocking from view the upper
f his mother except for her hand, which she had removed from
Naguib Mahu{
the covers when she welcomed him. He gazed at it affectionately and
placed it under the covers, which he arranged carefully around hq
neck. Then he looked back at the mirror. It occurred to him that this
mirror might reflect the image of an empty bed by the next day.
life, in fact anyone's life, was no more permanent than these visiot
in the mirror. He felt even more afraid and whispered to himself,
"I've got to limit my pains I've got to go." Leaving the mirror,
his eyes moved around until they fell upon a table with a water pipe
on it. The flexible tube was wound around the neck of the pipe like
a snake, lie looked at it with astonishment and disbelief, at once
replaced by a raging feeling of disgust and anger. That man!... No
doubt he was the owner of this pipe. He imagined the man sitting
cross-legged on the-sofa between the bed and the table, slumped over
the pipe, inhaling and exhaling with pleasure as Yasin's mother
fanned its coals for him. Oh... where was he? Somewhere in the
house or outside?... Had the man seen him from some concealed
spot? He could not bear to stay any longer with the water pipe. He
cast a final look at his mother and found her fast asleep. He gently
got up and went to the door. Seeing the servant in the outer hall, he
told her, "Your mistress has fallen asleep. I'll return tomorrow morning."
At the door of the apartment he turned to say once more, "Tomorrow
morning." He seemed to want to warn the man about the
time so he could keep out of sight.
He headed straight for Costaki's bar. He drank as usual, but it did
not cheer him up. He was unable to dispel the fear and anxiety from
his heart. Although dreams of his mother's fortune and the comfort
it would provide him did not leave his mind, he was unable m erase
from his memory the image of sickness and ideas of annihilation.
When he got home at midnight he found his stepmother waiting
for him on the first floor. He looked at her in surprise. Then with his
heart pounding he asked, "My mother?"
Amina hid her face and said in a soft voice, "A messenger from
Palace of Desire Alley came an hour before you returned. Have long life, son."
Kamal's association with the British developed into a mutual friendship.
Citing Yasin's misadventure in the mosque of al-Husayn, the
family attempted to persuade the boy to sever his relations with these
friends, but he protested that he was young, too young to be accused
of spying. To keep them from stopping him, he went directly to the
encampment when he got back from school, leaving his book bag
with Umm Hanafi. There was no way to prevent him except by force,
which they did not think appropriate, especially since he was having
such a good time in the camp, directly under their eyes, and was
welcomed and treated generously wherever he went. Even Fahmy
showed forbearance and amused himself by watching Kamal move
among the soldiers like a "monkey playing in the jungle."
"Tell al-Sayyid Ahmad," Umm Hanafi suggested once when complaining
that the soldiers were fresh with her because of the accursed
friendship and that some of them had mimicked the way she walked.
For that reason, they deserved "to have their heads cut off." No one
took her suggestion seriously, not merely out of consideration for the
boy but to spare themselves too, fearing an investigation would reveal
that they had concealed this friendship for a long time. They let
the boy and his concerns alone. They may also have hoped that the
reciprocal good feelings between the boy and the soldiers would protect
the rest of them from interference or injury they might otherwise
expect from the soldiers when members of the family came and went.
The happiest times of Kamal's day were those inside the encampment.
Not all the soldiers were his friends in the ordinary sense of
the Word, but they all knew him. He would shake hands with his
special friends, pressing their hands warmly, but limit himself to a
salute for the others. When his arrival coincided with the sentry duty
of One of his friends, the boy ran up to him cheerfully and happily,
putting out his hand, only to be shocked to find that the soldier
remained curiously and disturbingly rigid, as though snubbing Kamal
or as though he had turned into a statue. The boy only realized this
Was not the case when the others burst out lughing.
It Was not unusual for the alarm siren to sound suddenly when he
Naguib Mahfouz
was with his friends. They would rush to their tents, returni
shortly in their uniforms and helmets and carrying their rifles. A tru
would be brought out from behind the cistern building. The solders
would quickly jump into it, until it was packed full. He would realize
from the scene in front of him that a demonstration had broken
somewhere and that the soldiers were going to break it up. Fightir o
would certainly flare up between them and the demonstrators. The
only thing that concerned him at these times was to keep sight
friends until he saw them packed into the truck. He would gaze at
them, as though bidding them farewell. When they headed off for alNahhasin,
he would spread out his hands to pray for their safety and
to recite the opening sura of the Qur'an.
He only spent half an hour each afternoon at the camp. That was
the longest he could absent himself from home when he got back
from school. During that half hour, all his senses were on the alert
every minute. He prowled around the tents and trucks, which he
inspected piece by piece. Standing in front of the pyramids of rifles,
he examined them in detail, especially the barrel muzzles where death
lurked. He was not permitted to get too close to them and suffered
terribly because he wanted to play with them or at least touch them.
If his visit coincided with teatime, he went with his friends to the
field kitchen set up at the entrance to Qirmiz Alley and took his place
at the end of the "tea queue," as they called it. Then he would return
behind them with a cup of tea and milk and a piece of chocolate.
They would sit on the wall of the fountain to drink their tea. Th
soldiers all sang while he listened with interest, waiting for his tun
to perform.
The life of the camp made a deep impression on him, giving at
all-encompassing vividness to his flights of imagination and dreams
that were engraved in his heart alongside Amina's legends and
counts of the world of mysteries and Yasin's stories and their magica
universe, to which Kamal added the phantoms and visions of hi,
daydreams about the lives of ants, sparrows, and chickens, whic
occupied his mind when he was on the roof surrounded by sprigs
jasmine, hyacinth beans, and pots of flowers. From this inspiratior
he created a military encampment, completely equipped and staffed
to the wall separating their roof from Maryam's. He erected tents
wooden clogs, and the soldiers date pits. Near the army camp laeJ
demonstrators, represented by pebbles. He usually began the pertor
#37
nce by distributing the pits in groups, some in the tents or by the
eotraces, others around the rifles. To one side there were four pits
su-rounding a pebble that stood for himself.
First he imitated the English style of singing. Then it was time for
the pebble to sing "Visit me once each year" or "O Darling." He
¢ou1¢t move over to the pebbles and arrange them in rows as he
shouted, "Long live the Nation Down with the Protectorate....
Long live Sa'd." Returning to the camp and giving a warning whistle,
he organized the pits in columns, putting a date at the head of each
one. He moved a clog as he huffed to imitate the truck's drone. After
putting pits on the dog he shoved it toward the pebbles. The battle
ould break out, and many victims would fall on both sides. He did
not allow his personal feelings to influence the course of the battle,
at least not at the beginning or even midway through it. His single
dominant desire was to make the battle authentic and thrilling. Both
sides sould struggle, pushing and pulling to try to maintain an equal
number of casualties. The outcome would remain in doubt as the
advantage passed back and forth, but eventually the battle would
have to end. Then Kamal would find himself in an awkward position.
Which side should win? His four friends, headed by Julian, were on
one side, but on the other side were the Egyptian demonstrators with
whom Fahmy was deeply involved emotionally. In the final moment
the victory would be accorded to the demonstrators. The truck would
withdraw with the few remaining soldiers, including his four friends.
One time the battle ended with an honorable armistice, which warriors
from both sides celebrated in song at a table set with teacups
and different types of sweets.
Julian was his favorite, distinguished from the others by his good
looks, gentle temperament, and greater skill in speaking Arabic. He
was the one who had issued Kamal a standing invitation to tea. He
was also the soldier most touched by Kamal's singing. Almost every
day he would ask to hear "O Darling." He would follow the words
with interest. Then he would murmur with heartfelt homesickness,
"I' g°ing home to my country I'm going home."
vaal appreciated the man's sensitivity and it made him like the
soldier all the more. He felt comfortable enough to tell him once quite
usly that the way to escape from his distress was to "return Sa'd
l,.a. and go back to your country."
haul*an..d,d not receive this suggestion with the good humor Kamal
' ante,pated. To the contrary, he asked the bey, as he had before
|
|
43 8
NaKuib Mahfou:(
in comparable circumstances, not to mention Sa'd Pasha. In Engl
he said, "Sa'd Pasha... no[" Thus failed the "first Egyptian negoti.
ator," as Yasin dubbed Kamal.
The boy was surprised one day to have one of his friends pres
him with a caricature he had drawn of him. Kamal loked at it
astonishment and alarm, observing to himself, "My picture?...
isn't my picture." Deep inside, he felt it did look like him and no one
else. He looked up at the men standing around him and found th
were laughing. He realized it was a joke and that he should accept
with pleasure. He laughed along with them to hide his embarrass.
ment.
When Fahmy looked at it, he studied the portrait of Kamal wi
amazement. Then he said, "O Lord, this picture omits none of your defects and exaggerates them... the small, skinny body, the long,
scrawny neck, the large nose, the huge head, and the tiny eyes."
Laughing, he continued: "The only thing your 'friend' seems to admire
is your neat, elegant suit, and that's no fault of yours. All the
credit belongs to Mother, who takes such superb care of everything
in the house."
With a gloating look, Fahmy told his little brother, "It's clear what
the secret of their fondness for you is.... They like to laugh at your
appearance and foppishness. To put it plainly, you're nothing but a
comic puppet to them. What have you gained from your treachery?"
Fahmy's rebuke had no impact on the boy, because he understood
how hostile Fahmy was to the English. He thought his brother was
plotting to separate him from them.
One day he arrived at the encampment as usual and saw Julian at
the far wall of the cistern building looking with interest at the alley
where the residence of the late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan was situated.
Kamal went toward him and noticed that Julian was waving his hand
with a gesture the boy did not understand. Kamal stopped, obeying
an instinctive feeling he could not exolain His curiosity tempted,hina
to detour around the tents erected in front of the cistern. He
behind Julian and looked in the same direction. There he saw a small
window in a wing of the Ridwan family residence which blocked
the short alley. Maryam's smiling and responsive face could
plainly seen there. Stunned, Kamal stood looking back and forth between
the soldier and the girl, almost refusing to believe his eyeS.
How could Maryam have dared to appear at the window? lq
could she show herself to Julian in this shameless way? He was
ing and she was smiling.... Yes, the smile was still evident on her
PALACE WALK
lips
.... Her eyes were so busy looking at the soldier that she was
oot
aware of Kamal's presence. He accidentally moved and attracted
Julian'S attention. The soldier burst into laughter when he saw the
-din- behind him and made some remarks that sounded like
boy sta,
stoberish to Kamal. Maryam, clearly terrified, retreated at breakneck
Kamal stared in a daze at the soldier. The way Maryam had
'hi increased his suspicions, although the whole affair seemed
fled Y
extremely mysterious to him.
Julian asked him affectionately, "Do you know her?"
Karnal nodded his head in the affirmative and. said nothing. Julian
went off for a few minutes, returning with a large parcel, which he
presented to Kamal, telling him as he pointed toward Maryam's
house, "Take it to her."
Kamal jumped back with alarm. He shook his head from side to
side stubbornly. That incident lingered in his mind, and although he
sensed from the beginning that it was serious, he did not realize just
how serious it was until he told the story at the evening coffee hour.
Amina sat up straight, drawing away from him, with the coffee cup
still in her hand, not bringing it to her lips or putting it back on the
tray. Fahmy and Yasin raced over from their sofa to the one shared
by the mother and Kamal and began to stare at him with unexpected
interest, astonishment, and alarm.
Swallowing, Amina said, "Did you really see that?... Didn't your
eyes deceive you?"
Fahmy grumbled, "Maryam?... Maryam[... Do you know for
certain who it was?"
Yasin asked, "Was he gesturing to her and was she smiling back
at him?... Did you really see her smile?"
Replacing her cup on the tray and leaning her head on her hand,
Amina said in a threatening voice, "Kamal! Lying about a matter like
this is a crime God will not forgive. Think carefully, son Didn't
you exaggerate something?"
Kamal swore his weightiest oaths. Fahmy commented with bitter
des ai ",
,. p r, He s not lying. No sensible person would accuse him of
--.-,ur*g-ab'°ut th,s. Don't yo, see that a person his age wouldn't be
nvent such a story?
The mother asked in a sad voice, "But how is it possible for me
to believe him?"
be tho.ugh to himself, Fahmy observed, "Yes, how is it possible to
eve him?...,, Then in a serious voice he added, "But it happened
"' happened... happened."
44o
Nagut' Mahfou:(.
The word sank into him like a dagger. When he repeated it, he
seemed to be deliberately stabbing himself. It was true that events
had distracted him from Maryam and that her memory appeared only
at the edges of his daydreams, but this blow to her reputation struck
deep into his heart. He was dazed, dazed, dazed, not knowin
whether he had forgotten her or not, whether he loved or hated h
was angry out of a sense of honor or iealousy He was a dry
caught up in a howling storm.
"How can I believe him?... My trust in Maryam has been like
mine for Khadiia or Aisha for such a long time. Her mother is a
virtuous woman. Her father, may God let him rest in peace, was a
fine man... neighbors for a lifetime, excellent neighbors.... "
Yasin, who had seemed lost in thought all the while, replied in a
tone not innocent of sarcasm, "Why are you surprised?... Since
ancient times, God has created evil people from the loins of pious
ones."
Amina, as though refusing to believe that she had been taken
for such a long time, protested, "With God as my witness, I've never
observed anything discreditable about her."
Yasin agreed cautiously: "Nor has any of us, not even Khadiia, the
supreme faultfinder. People far more clever than either of us have
been deceived about her."
Fahmy cried out in anguish, "How can I penetrate the world of
mysteries? It's a matter that defies the imagination." He was boiling
with anger at Yasin. Then it seemed to him that everyone was hateful:
the English and the Egyptians in equal measure.., men and
women, but especially women. He was choking. He longed to disappear
and be alone to inhale a breath of relief, but he stayed where
he was, as though tied down with heavy ropes.
Yasin directed a question to Kamal: "When did she see you?"
"When Julian turned toward me."
"And then she fled from the window?"
"Yes."
"Did she notice that you saw her?"
"Our eyes met for a moment."
Yasin said sarcastically, "The poor dear!... No doubt she's imag"
ining our gathering now and our distressing conversation."
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