moment, sighing as though seeking some relief from the arduous
descent. Then, like the ceremonial camel litter that each year was a
traditional highlight of the procession of pilgrims setting off for
Mecca, she made her way into the store, swaying and trembling.
Meanwhile the maid's voice rang out almost oratorically to announce
her mistress: "Make way, fellows, you and the other one, for
Madam Zubayda, queen of the singers."
A muffled laugh escaped from Madam Zubayda. Addressing the
maid in a counterfeit tone of reprimand, she said, "May God forgive
you, Jaljal... Queen of the singers! That's enough. Haven't you
learned the virtue of humility?"
Jamil al-Hamzawi rushed toward her, his mouth hanging open in
a wide smile. He said, "Welcome! We should have spread the earth
with sand for you."
A1-Sayyid Ahmad rose. He was examining her with a look both
astonished and thoughtful. Then, to complete his employee's greeting,
he said, "No, with henna and roses, but what can we do when
good fortune arrives unannounced?"
The proprietor saw his assistant going to get a chair. He beat him
to it with a broad step almost like a jump. The other man moved
aside, concealing his smile. The proprietor presented the chair to the
visitor himself. He gestured with his hand to invite her to have a seat,
but as he did so his hand stretched out to its full extent, perhaps
without his being conscious of it. The openings between his fingers
spread apart till the hand resembled a fan. This manual expansion
was influenced possibly by the effect on his imagination of her prodigious
bottom, which would shortly fill the seat of the chair and
certainly spill over the sides.
The woman thanked him with a smile. The beauty of her face
shone, with no veil to conceal it. She sat down, gleaming in her finery
and jewels. Then she turned toward her maid and addressed her,
although what she said was not intended solely for her: "Didn't I tell
you, Jaljal, there's no reason for us to wander hither and yon to do
our shopping when we have this fine store?"
g8
Naguib Mahfou
The maid agreed: "You were right as usual, Sultana. Why should
we go far away when here we have the noble Mr. Ahmad Abd al
Jawad?"
The lady drew back her head as though shocked by what Jalial had
said. She cast her a disapproving look and then glanced back and
forth between the proprietor and the maid so he could see her disapproval.
Concealing a smile, she said, "How embarrassing! I was
talking to you about the shop, Jaljal, not about al-Sayyid Ahmad."
The proprietor's experienced heart felt the affectionate atmosphere
created by the woman's remarks. Guided by his quick instincts, he
got into the spirit and murmured with a smile, "The shop and al
Sayyid Ahmad are one and the same, Sultana."
She raised her eyebrows coquettishly and replied with gentle obstinacy,
"But we are interested in the store, not al-Sayyid Ahmad."
It seemed that al-Sayyid Ahmad was not the only person to feel
the fine atmosphere created by the sultana, for here was Jamil al
Hamzawi, who alternated between haggling with the customers and
stealing looks at any part of the singer's body he could get his eyes i
on, and there were the customers letting their eyes wander from the
merchandise to pass over the lady. Indeed it seemed that this propitious
visit had even caught the attention of passersby in the street.
The proprietor decided to move closer to the sultana and turn his
broad back on the door and the people to protect her from the disturbance
of intruders. All the same, this did not make him forget
where he was in the conversation. He continued with his little joke:
"God, may His wisdom be exalted, decreed that inanimate things
have better luck at times than man."
She answered suggestively, "I think you're exaggerating. Inani.]
mate goods are no luckier than a man, but frequently they are more
useful."
i'i
A1-Sayyid Ahmad gave her a piercing look with his blue eyes.
Pretending to be astonished, he exclaimed, "More useful!" and then,
pointing at the floor, "This store!"
She granted him a short, sweet laugh but said in a tone not withou
a deliberate harshness, "I want sugar, coffee, rice; the man needs his
store for these things." Then she continued with an inflection free of
any flirtatiousness: "Moreover, men are much harder on the heart."
The doors of desire had opened for the proprietor. He sensed he
was faced with something far more significant than a simple purchase.
He objected, "Not all men are the same, Sultana. Who told you that
il
PALACE WALK
a man's no substitute for rice, sugar, and coffee? It's with a man that
you truly find nourishment, sweetness, and satisfaction."
She laughed and asked him, "Are you talking about a man or a
kitchen?"
He answered victoriously, "If you look closely, you'll discover an
amazing similarity between a man and a kitchen. Each of them fills
the belly with life."
The woman lowered her eyes for a time. The proprietor expected
her to look up at him with a bright smile, but the glance she directed
at him was serious. He sensed at once that she had changed strategy
or perhaps was not really comfortable about slipping into a relationship
so quickly. She turned away and then he heard her say quietly,
"May God help you... but all we need today are rice, coffee, and
sugar."
The proprietor stepped away from her and tried to look serious.
He summoned his assistant and in a loud voice entrusted the lady's
orders to him. He gave the impression that he too had decided to
refrain from being too affectionate and to get back to business, but it
was just a maneuver. Immediately afterward he went on the attack
again with his smile and murmured to the sultana, "The store and its
proprietor are yours to command."
The maneuver had its effect, for the woman said jokingly, "I want
the store, and you insist on giving yourself."
"I'm no doubt better than my store, or the best thing in it."
She beamed with a mischievous smile and said, "This contradicts
what we've heard about the excellence of your merchandise."
The proprietor laughed boisterously and said, "Why do you need
sugar when there's all this Sweetness on your tongue?"
This verbal battle was followed by a period of silence during which
each of them appeared content with himself. Then the performer
opened her purse and took out a small mirror with a silver handle.
She began to look at herself. The proprietor went back to his desk.
He stood, leaning on the edge of it, while he studied her face with
interest.
The truth was that when his eyes had first noticed her, his heart
had told him that she had not made her visit merely to buy something.
Then her warm and responsive conversation had confirmed his
suspicions. Now all that remained was for him to decide whether to
respond or to bid her a final adieu. It was not the first time he had
seen her, for he had frequently run into her at weddings hosted by
9°
Naguib Mahfou
his friends. He knew from secondhand reports that al-Sayyid Khalil
al-Banan had been her lover for a long time but that they had recentl
separated. Perhaps it was for this reason that she was looking for
goods at a new store. She was very beautiful, even though her status
as a singer was only second-rate. All the same, he was more interested
in her as a woman than as a singer. She certainly was desirable.
Her folds of flesh and fat would warm a chilly man during the bitter
cold of winter, which was at hand.
His reflections were cut short by al-Hamzawi, who brought the
three parcels. The maid took them, and the lady thrust her hand into
her purse, apphrently to take out some money. AI-Sayyid Ahmad
gestured to her not to try to pay: "That would be quite wrong."
The woman pretended to be astonished. "Wrong, Mr. al-Sayyid?
How can doing what's right be wrong?"
"This is an auspicious visit. It's our duty to greet it with the honor
it deserves. It would be impossible for me to do justice to it."
While he was talking, she stood up. She did not offer any seriom
resistance to his generosity but warned, "Your generosity will make
me hesitate more than once before I come back to you again."
The proprietor laughed boisterously and replied, "Have no fead
I'm generous to a customer the first time, but I make up for my loss
later, even if I have to cheat. This is the way merchants operate.":
The lady smiled and held out her hand to him. She commented
"When a generous man like you cheats, it isn't really cheating. Thank
you, Sayyid Ahmad."
He responded from the depths of his heart, "Don't mention i
Sultana."
He stood watching her strut toward the door and then climb into
the carriage. She took her place, and Jaljal sat on the small seat opposite
her. The carriage rolled off with its precious cargo and disappeared
from sight.
Then here was al-Hamzawi, asking as he turned a page of the
ledger, "How can this sum be accounted for?"
The proprietor looked at his assistant with a smile and replied, "Write
beside it: 'Goods destroyed by an act of God.' "He murmured to himself
as he returned to his desk, "God is beautiful and loves beauty."
That evening al-Sayyid Ahmad closed his store and set off surrounded
by respectful glances and diffusing a pleasant fragrance. He
proceeded to the Goldsmiths Bazaar and from there to al-Ghuriya till
he reached al-Sayyid Ali's coffee shop. As he passed it, he looked at
the singer's house and the adjoining buildings. He observed that the
string of shops on both sides of it were still open and that the flow
of pedestrian traffic was at its height. He continued on to a friend's
house, where he passed an hour. Then he excused himself and returned
to al-Ghuriya, which was engulfed in darkness and almost
deserted.
Confident and relaxed, he approached the house. He knocked on
the door and waited, looking carefully at everything around him. The
only light came from the window of al-Sayyid Ali's coffee shop and
from a kerosene lamp on a handcart at the corner of New Street. The
door opened and the form of a young servant girl could be seen.
Without any hesitation, in order to inspire in the girl trust and confidence,
he asked her in a forceful voice, "Is Madam Zubayda at
home?"
The girl looked up at him and asked with the reserve her job
required, "Who are you, sir?"
He responded determinedly, "A person who wishes to reach an
agreement with her for an evening's entertainment."
The girl was gone for some minutes before returning to invite him
in. She stepped aside to allow him to enter. He followed her up the
narrow steps of the staircase to a hallway. She opened the door facing
him, and he passed through it into a darkened room. He stood there
near the entrance, listening to her footsteps as she ran to fetch a lamp.
He watched her place it on a table. She moved a chair to the center
of the room to stand on while she lit the large lamp hanging from
the ceiling. Then she put the chair back where it belonged. She took
the small lamp and left the room, saying politely, "Please have a seat,
sir."
He went over to a sofa at the front of the room and sat there
Na'uib Mahfou
confidently and calmly, demonstrating that he was accustomed to situations
like this and certain abe restdts would be to his liking.
removed his fez and placed it on a cushion at the center of the sofa.
He stretched his legs out anI made himself comfortable. He saw a
room of medium size with sofS and chairs arranged around the sides.
The floor was covered with. Persian carpet. In front of each of the
three large sofas stood a serving table inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
The windows and door were hung with curtains that prevented the
aroma of incense he enjoyed from escaping. He amused himself by
watching a moth flutter nerVOusly and eagerly around the lamp.
While he waited, the servant brought him coffee. It was some time
before he heard the rhythmic thump of slippers striking the floor.
He became fully alert and tared at the opening of the door, which
was immediately filled by the prodigious body, its pronounced curves
sensuously draped in a blue dress. The moment the woman's eyes
fell on him she stopped in a,tonishment and shouted, "In the name
of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful[... You!"
His eyes ran over her body" as quickly and greedily as a mouse on
a sack of rice looking for a 1lace to get in. He said admiringly, "In
the name of God. God's will be done."
After her pause, she contirued to advance, smiling. She said with
pretended fear, "Your eye! God protect me from it."
AI-Sayyid Abroad rose to rake her outstretched hand. Sniffing the
fragrant incense with his enormous nose, he asked, "Are you afraid
of an envious eye even when protected by this incense?"
She freed her hand from his and stepped back to sit on one of the
side couches. She replied, "My incense is a boon and a blessing. It's
a mixture of various kinds, some Arab and some Indian that I blend
myself. It's capable of ridding the body of a thousand and one iinn."
He sat down again and said, waving his hands in despair, "But not
my body. My body has a iinoi of a different sort. Incense doesn't do
any good with him. The matter is more severe and dangerous."
The woman struck her chest like a heaving water skin and shouted,
"But I perform at weddings, not exorcisms."
He said hopefully, "We'll see if you have a remedy for what aiis
me."
They were silent for a tioae. The sultana started to ook at him
somewhat reflectively, as though tring to discern the secret of his
visit and whether he really hd come to ask her to perform at a party,
as he had told the servant. Her curiosity got the better of her and she
asked, "A wedding or a circtmcision?"
PALACE WALK 93
Smiling he replied, "Whichever you wish."
"Do you have an uncircumcised boy or a bridegroom?"
"I've got everything."
She gave him a warning look as if to say, "How tiresome you
are!" Then she muttered sarcastically, "We'll be happy to serve you,
whatever it happens to be."
AI-Sayyid Ahmad raised his hands to the top of his head in a
gesture of thanks. He said with a gravity that belied his intentions,
"God bless you! All the same, I'm still determined to leave the choice tO you."
She sighed with a rage that was half humorous and replied, "I
prefer weddings, of course."
"But I'm a married man. I don't need any more wedding processiorts."
She yelled at him, "What a joker you are... Then let it be a
circumcision."
"So be it."
She asked cautiously, "Your son?"
Twisting his mustache, he answered simply, "Me."
The sultana let out a flowing laugh. She decided to stop thinking
about the question of an evening performance. She guessed
what kind of performance it would be. She shouted at him, "What a
crafty man you are. If my arm were long enough I'd break your
back."
He rose and approached, saying, "I won't deprive you of anything
you want." He sat down beside her. She started to hit him but hesitated
and then stopped. He asked her anxiously, "Why don't you
honor me with a beating?"
She shook her head and replied scornfully, "I'm afraid I would
have to repeat my ritual ablutions."
He asked longingly, "May I hope we can pray together?" He privately
asked God's forgiveness as soon as he had made this joke.
Although there were no limits to his impudence when he was intoxicated
by his sense of humor, his heart was always troubled and
uneasy until he secretly and sincerely asked God's forgiveness for the
humorous excesses of his tongue.
The woman asked with ironic coquetry, "Do you mean, reverend
sir, the kind of prayer the muezzin says is better than sleep?"
"No, prayer which is a form of sleep."
She could not keep herself from saying with a laugh, "What a man
you are! On the outside you are dignified and pious, but inside you're
Naguib Mahfou
licentious and debauched. Now I really believe what I was told about
you."
Al-Sayyid Ahmad sat up with interest and asked, "What were you
told?... May God spare us the evil of what people say."
"They told me you're a womanizer and a heavy drinker."
He sighed audibly in relief and commented, "I thought it would be
criticism of some fault, thank God."
"Didn't I tell you you're a crafty sinner?"
"Here's the evidence, then, that I've won your acceptance, God
willing."
The woman raised her head haughtily and replied, "Keep your
distance.... I'm not like the women you've had. Zubayda is known,
if I do say so myself, for her self-respect and good taste."
The man raised his hands to his chest and looked at her in a way
both challenging and gentle. He remarked calmly, "It's when a man
is tested that he's honored or despised."
"How come you're so cocky when, according to you, you haven't
even been circumcised yet?"
AI-Sayyid Ahmad laughed loudly for a long time. Then he said,
"You don't believe me, you circumciser. Well, if you're in doubt.."
She punched him in the shoulder before he could finish his sentence.
He stopped talking, and then they burst out laughing together.
He was happy she laughed along with him. He surmised that, given
both the veiled and open remarks that had passed between them, her
laughter constituted an announcement of her consent. The flirtatious
smile, visible in her eyes with their shadow of kohl, served to confirm
this idea in his mind. He thought he would greet this flirtation in
kind, but she cautioned him, "Don't make me think even worse of
you."
Her statement reminded him of her reference to things she had
heard. He asked her with interest, "Who's been talking to you about
me?"
She replied tersely, giving him an accusing look, "Jalila."
This name took him by surprise. It was like a critic interrupting
their tte-h-t&e. He smiled in a way that showed he was uncomfortable.
Jalila was the famous performer he had loved for such a long
time, until they separated after the fire had died in their romance.
They continued to like each other but had gone their separate ways.
Relying on his experience with women, he thought he had better say,
as though he really meant it, "God curse her face and voice!" Then,
PALACE WALK 9Y
trying to avoid this topic, he continued: "Let's skip all this and talk
seriously."
She asked sarcastically, "Doesn't Jalila deserve a gentler and more
gracious comment? Or are you always like this when you talk about
a woman you've dumped?"
AI-Sayyid Ahmad felt a little uneasy, but he was awash with the
sexual conceit aroused in him when a new lover discussed one of his
former girlfriends: He enjoyed the sweet intoxication of triumph for
some time. Then he remarked with his customary suavity, "In the
presence of beauty like yours, I'm unable to put it aside for memories
that are buried and forgotten."
Although the sultana retained her ironic 1oo!.:, she responded to the
praise by raising her eyebrows and concealing a faint smile that had
stolen across her lips. All the same, she addressed him scornfully: "A
merchant is generous with his sweet talk until he gets what he
wants."
"We merchants deserve to go to paradise because people are so
unfair to us."
She shrugged her shoulders with disdain and then asked him with
unconcealed interest, "When were you seeing each other?"
He waved his arm as if to say, "What a long time ago!" Then he
muttered, "Ages and ages ago."
She laughed mockingly and said in a tone of revenge, "In the days
of your youth, which have passed."
He looked at her reproachfully and said, "I wish I could suck the
venom from your tongue."
She continued with what she was saying in the same tone: "She
took you in when your flesh was firm and left you nothing but
bones."
He gestured with his forefinger to caution her, saying, "I'm one of
those hardy men who get married in their sixties."
"Motivated by passion or senility?"
He roared with laughter and said, "Lady, fear God. Let's have a
serious talk."
"Serious?... You mean about the evening's entertainment you
came to arrange?"
"I seek entertainment for a whole lifetime."
"A whole lifetime or just half?."
"May our Lord grant us what is good for us "
"May our Lord grant us what is pleasant."
Naguib Mahfoug
He secretly requested God's forgiveness in advance before he
asked, "Shall we recite the opening prayer of the Qur'an?"
She jumped up suddenly, ignoring his invitation, and cried out in
alarm, "My Lord... it's later than I thought. I have an important
engagement tonight."
Al-Sayyid Ahmad rose too. He stretched out his hand to take hers.
He spread open her palm tinted with henna and looked at it with
desire and fascination. He kept on holding it even after she tried
repeatedly to withdraw it. Finally she pinched his finger and raised
her hand to his mustache. She shouted menacingly to him, "Let go
of me or you'll leave my house with only half a mustache."
He saw that her forearm was near his mouth. He abandoned the
dispute and slowly brought his lips to her arm until they sank into
its soft flesh. A delicious fragrance of carnations wafted from her. He
sighed and murmured, "Till tomorrow?"
She escaped from his hand without any resistance this time. She
gave him a lengthy look. Then she smiled and recited softly:
My sparrow, Mother, my little bird,
I'll play and show him what I have learned.
She repeated these lines several times as she saw him out. AISayyid
Ahmad left the room singing the opening of this song in a
low voice both dignified and sedate. He seemed to be examining the
words for their hidden meaning.
In the home of the singer Zubayda there was a room like a hall in
the middle of her residence that was dubbed the recital chamber.
Actually it was a hall for which new uses had been found. Perhaps
the most important of these for her and her troupe was rehearsing
their songs and learning new material. It had been chosen because it
was far from the public street and separated from it by bedrooms and
reception chambers. Its size also made it a suitable location for her
private parties, which usually were either exorcisms or recitals to
which she would invite her special friends and close acquaintances.
The motive for hosting these parties was not simply generosity, for
any generosity manifested was almost always that of the guests themselves.
The aim was to increase the number of fine friends able to
invite her to perform at their parties or to help promote her by praising
her in the circles where they were received. It was also from
these men that she selected lover after lover.
Now it was al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad's turn to honor the
festive hall, accompanied by some of his most distinguished acquaintances.
He had displayed boundless energy following the daring
meeting that had taken place between them at her house. His messengers
had immediately taken her a generous gift of candied nuts
and dried fruit, sweets and other presents, in addition to a stove he
commissioned which was decorated with silver plate. These gifts
were all a token of the affection to follow. Leaving the guest list
entirely up to him, the sultana had invited him to a get-acquainted
party in honor of their newfound love.
The chamber was remarkable for its attractive, Egyptian look. A
row of comfortable sofas with brocade upholstery, suggesting both
luxury and dissipation, stretched out on either side of the sultana's
divan, which was flanked by mattresses and cushions for her troupe.
The long expanse of floor was covered with carpets of many different
colors and types. On a table suspended from the right wall, halfway
along it, candles were arranged in candelabra where they looked as
lovely and intense as a beauty mark on a cheek. There was a huge
lamp hanging from the peak of a skylight in the center of the ceiling.
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