Kamal. They set about eating without forgetting their manners or
reserve.
Their father devoured his food quickly and in great quantities as
though his saws were a mechanical shredding device working nonstop
at full speed. He lumped together into one giant mouthful a wide
selection of the available dishes--beans, eggs, cheese, pepper and
lemon pickles--which he proceeded to pulverize with dispatch while
his fingers prepared the next helping. His sons ate with deliberation
and care, no matter what it cost them and how incompatible it was
with their fiery temperaments. They were painfully aware of the severe
remark or harsh look they would receive should one of them be
remiss or weak and forget himself and thus neglect the obligatory
patience and manners.
Kamal was the most uneasy, because he feared his father the most.
The worst punishment either of his two brothers would receive was
a rebuke or a scolding. The least he could expect was a kick or a
PALACE WALK
slap. For this reason, he consumed his food cautiously and nervously,
stealing a glance from time to time at what was left. The food's quick
disappearance added to his anxiety. He waited apprehensively for a
sign that his father was finished eating. Then he would have a chance
to fill his belly. Kamal knew that although his father devoured his
food quickly, taking huge helpings selected from many different
dishes, the ultimate threat to the food, and therefore to him, came
from his two brothers. His father ate quickly and got full quickly.
His two brothers only began the battle in earnest once their father
left the table. They did not give up until the plates were empty of
anything edible.
Therefore, no sooner had his father risen and departed than Kamal
rolled up his sleeves and attacked the food like a madman. He employed
both his hands, one for the large dish and the other for the
small ones. All the same, his endeavor seemed futile, given his brothers'
energetic efforts. So Kamal fell back on a trick he resorted to
when his welfare was threatened in circumstances like these. He deliberately
sneezed on the food. His two brothers recoiled, looking at
him furiously, but left the table, convulsed with laughter. Kamal's
dream for the morning was realized. He found himself alone at the
table.
The father returned to his room after washing his hands. Amina
followed him there, bringing a cup containing three raw eggs mixed
with a little milk, which she handed to him. After swallowing the
concoction, he sat down to sip his morning coffee. The rich egg drink
was the finale of his breakfast. It was one of a number of tonics he
used regularly after meals or between them--like cod-liver oil and
sugared walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts--to safeguard the health of
his huge body. They helped compensate for the wear and tear occasioned
by his passions. He also limited his diet to meat and varieties
of foods known for their richness. Indeed, he scorned light and even
normal meals as a waste of time not befitting a man of his stature.
Hashish had been prescribed for him to stimulate his appetite, in
addition to its other benefits. Although he had tried it, he had never
been comfortable with it and had abandoned it without regret. He
disliked it because it induced in him a stupor, both somber and still,
and a predisposition toward silence as well as a feeling of isolation
even when he was with his best friends. He disliked these symptoms
that were in rude contrast to his normal disposition aflame with
youthful outbursts of mirth, elated excitement, intimate delights, and
bouts of jesting and laughter. For fear of losing the qualities required
Naguib Mahfou{
of an exceptionally virile lover, he dosed himself with an expensive
narcotic for which Muhammad Aiami, the couscous vendor by the
faqade of the seminary of al-Salih Ayyub in the vicinity of the Goldsmiths
Bazaar, was renowned. The vendor prepared it as a special
favor for his most honored clients among the merchants and
notables. AI-Sayyid Ahmad was not addicted to the drug, but
would take some from time to time whenever he encountered a new
love, particularly if the object of his passion was a woman experienced
with men and their ways.
He finished sipping his coffee. He got up to look in the mirror and
began putting on the garments Amina handed to him one at a time.
He cast a searching look at his attire. He combed his hair, which
hung down on both sides of his head. Then he smoothed and twisted
his mustache. He scrutinized the appearance of his face and turned
slowly to the right to inspect the left side and then to the left to study
the right. When at last he was satisfied with what he saw, he
stretched out his hand to his wife for the bottle of cologne Uncle
Hasanayn, the barber, prepared for him. He cleansed his hands and
face and moistened the chest of his caftan and his handkerchief with
it. Then he put on his fez, took his walking stick, and left the room,
spreading a pleasant fragrance before and after him. The whole family
knew the scent distilled from assorted flowers. Whenever they
inhaled it, the image of the head of the house with his resolute, solemn
face would come to mind. It would inspire in the heart, along
with love, both awe and fear. At this hour of the morning, however,
the fragrance was an announcement of their father's departure.
Everyone greeted it with a relief that was innocent rather than reprehensible,
like a prisoner's satisfaction on hearing the clatter of chains
being unfastened from his hands and feet. Each knew he would
shortly regain his liberty to talk, laugh, sing, and do many other
things free from danger.
Yasin and Fahmy had finished putting on their clothes. Kamal
rushed to the father's room, immediately after he left, to satisfy a
desire to imitate his father's gestures that he had stealthily observed
from the edge of the door, which was aiar. He stood in front of the
mirror looking at himself with care and pleasure. Then he barked in
a commanding tone of voice to his mother, "The cologne, Amina."
He knew she would not honor this demand but proceeded to wipe
his hands on his face, jacket, and short pants, as if moistening them
with cologne. Although his mother was struggling not to laugh, he
zealously kept up the pretense of being in deadly earnest. He pro
PALACE WALK
ceeded to review his face in the mirror from the right side to the left.
He went on to smooth his imaginary mustache and twist its ends.
After that he turned away from the mirror and belched. He looked at
his mother and, when he got no response from her except laughter,
remonstrated with her: "You're supposed to wish me health and
strength."
The woman laughingly mumbled, "Health and strength, sir." Then
he left the room mimicking his father's gait and holding his hand as
though leaning on a stick.
The mother and her two girls went at once to the balcony. They
stood at the window overlooking al-Nahhasin Street to observe
through the holes of its wooden grille the men of the family on the
street. The father could be seen moving in a slow and dignified fashion.
He projected an aura of grandeur and good looks, raising his
hands in greeting from time to time. Uncle Hasanayn, the barber,
Hajj Darwish, who sold beans, al-Fuli, the milkman, and al-Bayumi,
the drinks vendor, all rose to greet him. The women watched him
with eyes filled with love and pride. Fahmy followed behind him with
hasty steps and then Yasin with the body of a bull and the elegance
of a peacock. Finally Kamal made his appearance. He had scarcely
taken two steps when he turned around and looked up at the window
where he knew his mother and sisters were concealed. He smiled and
then went on his way, clutching his book bag under his arm and
searching the ground for a pebble to kick.
This moment was one of the happiest of the mother's day. All the
same, her anxiety that her men might be harmed by the evil eye knew
no limits. She continued reciting the Qur'anic verse "And from the
mischief of the envious person in his envy" (l 13:5) until they were
out of sight.
The mother left the balcony followed by Khadija, but Aisha tarried
there till she was alone. Then she went to the side of the balcony
overlooking Palace Walk. She peered out through the holes of the
grille with interest and longing. The gleam in her eyes and the way
she bit her lip showed she was expecting something to happen. She
did not have long to wait, for a young police officer appeared from
the corner of al-Khurunfush Street. He came closer, slowly making
his way toward the Gamaliya police station. At that, the girl quickly
left the balcony for the sitting room and headed for the side window.
She turned the knob and opened the two panels a crack. She stood
there, her heart pounding with a violence provoked by both fear and
affection. When the officer neared the house, he raised his eyes cautiously
but not his head, for in Egypt in those days it was not considered
proper to raise your head in such circumstances. His face
shone with the light of a hidden smile that was reflected on the girl's
face as a shy radiance.
She sighed and closed the window, fastening it nervously as
though hiding evidence of a bloody crime. She retreated, her eyes
closed from the intensity of the emotion. She let herself sink into a
chair and leaned her head on her hand. She roamed through the space
of her infinite sensations, experiencing neither sheer happiness or total
fear. Her heart was divided between the two emotions, each mercilessly
trying to attract it. If she succumbed to the intoxication and
enchantment of happiness, fear's hammer struck her heart, warning
and threatening her. She did not know whether it would be better for
her to abandon her adventure or to continue obeying her heart. Her
love and fear were both intense. She lingered in her drowsy conflict
for some time. Then the voices of fear and censure subsided, and
during this truce she enjoyed an intoxicating dream.
She recalled with her usual delight how she had been shaking dust
from the window curtain one day when she chanced to look at the
street through the window, which was halfway open to let the dust
fly out. Her glance had fallen on him as he looked up at her face with
astonished admiration. She had drawn back in apparent alarm, but
PALACE WALK
before he disappeared from sight he had made an unforgettable
impression on her imagination with his gold star and red stripe. A
vision to enchant the mind and ravish the imagination, it hovered
before her eyes for a long time.
At the same hour the next day and for days after, she had gone to
stand by the slit, where he could not see her. She would observe with
triumphant happiness how he looked up at the closed window with
concern and longing and then how his features were illumined by the
light of joy as he began to discern her figure at the crack. Her heart,
on fire and reaching out, awake for the first time, looked forward
impatiently to this moment, savoring it happily and then dreamily
bidding it adieu as it ended.
A month had passed and once more it had been time to dust the
curtains. She had set about shaking them, deliberately leaving the
window halfway open so she could be seen. [n this manner, days and
months had passed until her thirst for even more romance conquered
her oppressive fear and she had taken an insane step. She had opened
the two panels of the window and stood there, her heart beating
violently from affection and fear. She might as well have proclaimed
her love to him. She seemed to be a person throwing herse[f down
from a vast height to escape a searing fire all around her.
The sentiments of fear and censure having subsided enough for a
truce to be proclaimed, she enjoyed the intoxication of her dream.
She awoke determined to shut out the fear troubling her serenity. In
order to soothe her consicence she started to tell herself, "The earth
didn't shake. Everything went off peacefully. No one saw me, and no
one will. Moreover, I didn't do anything wrong!" She stood up and,
to make herself think she had a clear conscience, sang in a sweet
voice, "You there with the red stripe, you who have taken me prisoner,
have pity on my humiliation." She sang it repeatedly, until her
sister Khadija's voice reached her from the dining room.
Khadija shouted sarcastically, "Diva Munira aI-Mahdiya, you renowned
prima donna, please do us the favor of eating. Your servant
has set the table for you."
This voice brought her back to her senses as though Khadija had
shaken her. She fell from the Platonic world of ideal forms to reality,
feeling somewhat frightened for no dear reason, since everything
had passed peacefully, as she told herself. All the same, her sister's
voice, objecting to her singing and to her images in particular,
alarmed her, possibly because Khadija was so critical toward her.
Nevertheless, she set aside this momentary anxiety and responded
with a brief laugh. She ran to the dining room and found that the
cloth had indeed been spread and that her mother was bringing in
the tray of food.
Khadija said to her sharply the moment she entered, "You loll
about, off by yourself, while I prepare everything. We've had enough
singing."
Although Aisha usually spoke tenderly to Khadija to protect herself
from Khadija's sharp tongue, the latter's insistence on reprimanding
her whenever an opportunity arose occasionally made Aisha wish to
rile her. Pretending to be in earnest, she said, "Didn't we agree to
divide the work in the house between us? So you do the chores and
I'll do the singing."
Khadija looked at her mother and said mockingly of her sister,
"Perhaps she intends to become a professional."
Aisha did not get angry. To the contrary, she said, again with
affected seriousness, "Why not! My voice is like a bird's, like a curlew's."
Although Aisha's previous words had not stirred Khadiia's rage,
since they were in iest, this last statement did, both because it was obviously true and because Khadiia envied her the beauty of her
voice along with her other attractions. So she attacked her: "Listen,
madam, this is the home of an honorable man. There would be nothing
wrong with his daughters having voices like donkeys, but it's a
disgrace for them to be nothing but pretty pictures of no use or
value."
"If your voice were beautiful like mine you wouldn't say that."
"Of course! We'd sing duets together. You'd say, 'You there with
the red stripe, you who'--and I'd continue--'have taken me prisoner,
have pity on my humiliation.' We'll let the lady'--pointing
toward her mother--"do the sweeping, scrubbing, and cooking."
The mother, who was accustomed to this bickering, had taken her
place and implored them, "Trust in God. Sit down. Let's eat our
breakfast in peace."
They came over and sat down. Khadija observed, "Mother, you're
not fit to raise anyone."
Her mother muttered calmly, "God forgive you. I'll leave the child
rearing to you, so long as you don't forget your own manners." She
stretched her hand out to the tray of food, reciting, "In the name of
God the Merciful, the Compassionate."
Khadija was twenty and the eldest, except for Yasin, her half
brother, who was about twenty-one. She was strong and plump,
PALACE WALK
thanks to Umm Hanafi, although a trifle short. Her face had acquired
its features from her parents but in a combination lacking in harmony
or charm. She had inherited her mother's small, beautiful eyes and
her father's huge nose, or a smaller version of it, although not small
enough to be excused. While this nose on her father's face, where it
fit, lent his face a noticeable majesty, it added nothing to the girl's
looks.
Aisha was in her prime at sixteen. She was the very picture of
beauty. She was of slender build and figure, but in her family circle
this was considered a defect to be remedied by the ministrations of
Umm Hanafi. Her face was as beautiful as the moon. She had a white
complexion suffused with rosy highlights and her father's blue eyes,
which went well with her mother's small nose. Unlike all the others,
she had golden hair, inherited from her paternal grandmother, thanks
to the laws of genetics.
It was natural that Khadija should grasp the differences between
her and her sister. Neither her extraordinary proficiency in running
the house and doing embroidery or her indefatigable vigor, which
never dimmed or dulled, gained her anything. On the whole, Khadija
felt a jealousy toward Aisha she did not bother to hide, thereby causing
the beautiful girl to be upset with her frequently. Fortunately,
this natural jealousy did not leave any negative residue deep in her
soul. She was content to vent it through the sarcastic sauciness of her
tongue. Moreover, she was a girl who, despite the handicaps nature
had given her, had a heart full of affection for her family, even though
she did not spare them her bitter mockery. Regardless of how long
her jealousy lasted, it did not warp her disposition or become hatred
or loathing.
Although her sarcasm was humorous when aimed at a member
of her family, she was a scold of the first degree with regard to their
neighbors and acquaintances. Her eyes, like the needle of a compass
always attracted to the magnetic pole, lit first on people's imperfections.
If their shortcomings were cloaked, she contrived to uncover
and enlarge them. Then she applied epithets to her victims
to match their defects. They were usually known by these in the
family circle.
She called the widow of the late Mr. Shawkat, the oldest friend of
her parents, "the machine gun," because of the way her spittle flew
when she talked. Umm Maryam, their next-door neighbor, she named
"Could you spare?" because she borrowed household utensils from
them now and then. The teacher at the Qur'an school of Palace Walk
Naguib Mahfou
was the "evilest of creation" because when he taught he frequentl
recited this verse from the Qur'an (113:2) along with the rest of the
sura and because of his ugly face. The cooked-beans vendor was "baldy" because he had no hair, the milkman "one-eye" because hi
vision was impaired. The nicknames she gave the members of he
family were less virulent. Her mother was "the muezzin" because she
rose so early, Fahmy "the bedpost" because he was slender, and
Aisha "the reed" for the same reason. Yasin she called "Bamba Kashar"
after a notorious chanteuse of the day, since he was both pluml
and fastidious.
Her outspokenness was not merely satirical. There was truly rm
limit to her harshness if someone got in her family's way. Then he:
criticism of people was violent and devoid of tolerance and forgiveness.
She showed a pronounced lack of interest in the sorrows that
trouble people from day to day. This harshness was displayed domestically
in her unparalleled treatment of Umm Hanafi and even in
her handling of the domestic animals, such as the cats, which were
pampered by Aisha in ways beyond description. Her rudeness to
Umm Hanafi was a subject of controversy between her and her mother. The mother treated her servants exactly like part of her family.
She thought everyone was an angel and did not know how to
think ill of anyone. Khadija, on the other hand, was disposed to suspect
the woman, since it was her nature to be suspicious of everyone.
She did not hide her fear that the servant slept too close to the storeroom.
She asked her mother, "How did she get so fat? From the
remedies she concocts? We all consume those and we haven't gotten
fat like her. It's the butter and honey she skims off without measure
when we're asleep."
The mother defended Umm Hanafi as best she could. When her
daughter's insistence got on her nerves, she said, "Let her eat what
she wants. We have lots, and her belly has limits that cannot be
exceeded. We'll not go hungry in any case."
Khadiia was not pleased by this remark. She began to examine the
tins of butter and jars of honey every morning. Umm Hanafi observed
this behavior with a smile. She loved the whole family for the
sake of her excellent mistress.
Khadija did not behave like this with members of her family. If
one of them was indisposed, she was filled with tenderness and knew
no rest. When Kamal came down with measles, she insisted on sharing
his bed. She could not stand for even Aisha to be afflicted by the
PALACE WALK
slightest misfortune. Her heart had no equal both in coldness and in
compassion.
When she sat down to eat she abandoned her quarrel with Aisha.
She attacked the beans and eggs with an appetite that was proverbial
in the family. For all of them, f`ood, in addition to its nutritional value,
ultimately served an aesthetic goal, because it was the natural foundation
for becoming well rounded. They ate deliberately and painstakingly.
They did their very best to chew their food thoroughly.
They did not even slow down when they were full. They kept on
eating until they were stuffed, each according to her capacity. The
mother was the first to finish, followed by Aisha. Khadija was left
alone with the remaining food. She did not quit until all the dishes
were wiped clean.
Aisha's slenderness did not correspond to the diligence with which
she ate. The magic of the f`attening potions failed on her. Khadija was
moved to make f`un of her, suggesting that evil machinations had
caused her to be soil unfit f`or the good seed sowed in her. She also
liked to ascribe Aisha's slenderness to the weakness of her faith. She
would tell her, "We all fast during Pamadan except you. You pretend
to fast and then slip into the storeroom like a mouse to fill your
tummy with walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts. Then you break your
fast with us so ravenously that those who have been fasting envy
your appetite. But God won't bless you."
The breakfast hour was one of the rare times when the three
women were alone. Thus it was the most appropriate occasion for
them to disclose and air secrets, especially about matters they
would be embarrassed to discuss when the men of the family were
present. Khadija had something she wanted to say, even though
she was busy eating. She remarked in a calm voice, totally different
from the yell she had recently employed, "Mother, I had a strange
dream."
In deference to her intimidating daughter, the mother replied, even
before she swallowed the morsel in her mouth, "A good dream,
daughter, God willing."
Khadija said with increased concern, "I seemed to be walking on
the wall of" a roof" terrace. Perhaps it was the roof of our house, or
another. Then an unknown person pushed me off and | fell screaming."
.
Aisha's interest was serious enough to cause her to stop eating,
but her sister was silent for a short time to create the greatest
3o
Naguib Mafou
possible impression. Their mother murmured, "God grant it's
the best."
Trying not to smile, Aisha asked, "Wasn't I the unknown pern
who pushed you? Isn't that so?"
Khadiia was afraid the mood would be ruined by this joke. She
shouted at her, "It's a dream, not a game. Stop your foolishness."
Then, addressing her mother, she said, "I fell screaming, but I didn't
hit the ground as I expected. Instead I landed on a horse that carried
me off and flew away."
Amina sighed with relief as though she had grasped the meaning
of the dream and was reassured by it. She smiled and resumed eating.
Then she said, "Who knows, Khadija?... Perhaps it's your bridegroom!"
Talk about bridegrooms was permitted only on an occasion like
this and then only in the form of a terse allusion. The girl's heart
throbbed. She was apprehensive about marriage in a way she was
about nothing else. She believed in her dream and the interpretation.
Therefore she was overjoyed by her mother's words. All the
she wanted to disguise her embarrassment with irony as usual, even
if it was at her own expense, and said, "You think the horseo
bridegroom? My bridegroom will have to be an ass."
Aisha laughed till bits of food flew from her mouth. Fearing Khad
iia would misinterpret her laughter, she said, "You put yourself down
too much, Khadiia. You're just fine."
Khadiia cast her a glance full of suspicion and doubt. Then their
mother started to speak: "You're an extraordinary girl. Who can match your skill or energy? Or your quick wit and pretty face? What
more can you ask for?"
The girl touched the tip of her nose with her finger and asked.
with a laugh, "Doesn't this stand in the way of marriage?"
Smiling, her mother replied, "Nonsense... you're still young,
daughter."
Khadiia was distressed to have youth mentioned, since she did not
consider herself young compared with the age most girls were when
they married. She said to her mother, "You married, Mother, before
you turned fourteen."
The mother, who was actually no less apprehensive than her
daughter, replied, "Nothing comes early or late except as God
grants."
Aisha sincerely wished: "May our Lord soon allow us to celebrate
your wedding."
PALACE WALK 3I
Khadiia looked at her skeptically, remembering how one of the
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