It was asking a lot to expect that luck would provide another one as
good. But what would Khadija's position be and what kind of luck
and future would she have if the agreement was concluded? Mrs.
Amina could not make up her mind. It was especially difficult since
all the prospects seemed so bleak, leaving her unable to find any
solution. She was ready to cast the whole burden on the shoulders
of her husband and felt relieved, despite the apprehension that swept
through her every time she was about to bring up a topic she feared
might upset him.
She waited until he finished his coffee. Then she said in her soft
voice clearly intended to be polite and submissive, "Sir... Fahmy
told me one of his friends asked him to present his request to become
engaged to Aisha."
From his place on the sofa he looked down at her on her pallet
not far from his feet. His blue eyes were filled with interest and
astonishment. He seemed to be asking her, "How can you be talking
to me about Aisha when I've been waiting for news about Khadija
PALACE WALK I
since hearing about the three women visitors?" He asked, to make
sure he had heard correctly, "Aisha?"
"Yes, sir."
Al-Sayyid Ahmad looked straight ahead of him with annoyance.
Then, as though addressing himself, he said, "I decided a long time
ago which order to follow."
The woman quickly said, so he would not think she was opposing
his opinion, "I know how you feel about it, sir, but I have to inform
you of everything that goes on here."
He scrutinized her keenly, as though probing to discover how
much of her statement was true and sincere, but his scrutiny was
interrupted by a new thought that shone in his eyes. He asked her
with concern and anxiety, "Do you suppose there's a connection between
this and the ladies who visited you?"
Once they were alone, Fahmy had told her, that there was a connection.
The young man had suggested keeping it from his father
when she broke the news to him. She had promised to think about it
carefully and had hesitated between accepting and rejecting the idea.
Finally she had been inclined to keep it a secret, as Fahmy had suggested,
but when her husband's question put her on the spot and she
felt his eyes looking at her like blazing sunlight, her resolve crumbled
and her conviction melted. She replied without hesitation, "Yes, sir.
Fahmy learned they were relatives of his friend."
AI-Sayyid Abroad frowned in anger. As usual when he was angry,
his white complexion became flushed and sparks flew from his eyes.
It seemed that anyone who belittled Khadija was belittling him.
Whoever questioned her honor attacked his, head-on. Yet the only way
he knew to show his anger was through his voice, which grew loud
and coarse. He asked angrily and scornfully, "WHO is this friend?"
She did not know why, but she was uneasy about mentioning the
name. "Hasan Ibrahim, an officer at the Gamaliya police station," she
said.
He asked her excitedly, "Didn't you tell me you showed only
Khadija to the ladies?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did they visit you again?"
"Certainly not, sir. Otherwise I would have told you."
He scolded her as though she were responsible for this peculiar
behavior: "He sent his relatives. They saw Khadija. Then he asks for
Aisha!... What's the meaning of this?"
t 6
Naguib Mahfou
The mother swallowed and cleared her throat, which was dry from
the give-and-take of their conversation. She murmured, "In a case
like this, the matchmakers don't go to the house in question until
they have visited many of the neighboring households to make inquiries
about matters of concern to them. In fact, they did hint in
their conversation with me that they had heard you had two daughters.
Perhaps presenting only one instead of both..."
She had meant to say, "Perhaps presenting only one instead of
both served to confirm for them the rumor they had heard about the
beauty of the younger girl." She stopped herself partly from fear of
increasing his anger and partly from apprehension at openly stating
this fact that was linked in her mind to gloomy anxieties and worries.
She caught herself and concluded her statement with a mere gesture
of her hand, as if to say, "And so on and so forth."
AI-Sayyid Ahmad glared at her until she lowered her eyes submissively.
He became resentful and sad, compressing the anger within
his heart. He began to pound his chest, trying to get some relief or
company for his sorrow. Then he shouted in a stormy voice, "Now
we know everything. Here's a suitor asking for your daughter's hand.
So let me hear your opinion."
She felt that his question was dragging her into a bottomless pit.
Holding her hands out subserviently, she replied without any hesitation,
"My opinion is the same as yours, sir. I have no opinion of
my own."
He roared back, "If that was so, you wouldn't have mentioned the
matter to me at all."
She said apprehensively and devotedly, "Sir, I mentioned it to you
only to keep you informed about the new development, since it's my
duty to let you know everything that affects your home, coming from near or far."
He shook his head peevishly and said, "Who knows... yes, by
God, who knows? You're just a woman, and no woman has a fully
developed mind. And the topic of marriage in particular is enough to
make you women lose your senses. So perhaps you..."
She interrupted him in a trembling voice: "Sir, I seek refuge with
God from what you suspect. Khadiia is my daughter and my flesh
and blood just as much as yours.... What's happening to her is
breaking my heart. Aisha's still in the first bloom of youth. It won't
hurt her to wait till God brings help for her sister."
Her husband was nervously smoothing his thick mustache with the
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palm of his hand. Then he stopped suddenly as though he had remembered
something. He asked, "Does Khadija know?"
"Yes, sir."
He waved his hand angrily and shouted, "How can this officer ask
for the hand of Aisha despite the fact that no one has seen her?"
Although her heart was throbbing, she replied heatedly, "I told
you, sir, perhaps they heard something about her."
"But he works in the Gamaliya police station--in other words, in
our area. It's as though he lived here."
His wife replied very emotionally, "No man has ever seen either
of my daughters since they stopped going to school when they were
little girls."
He struck his hands together and shouted at her, "Not so fast....
Slow down. Do you think I have any doubts about that, woman? If
I did, not even murder would satisfy me. I'm just talking about what
will go through the minds of some people who don't know us. 'No
man has ever seen either of my daughters...' God's will be done.
Would you have wanted a manto see them? What a crazy prattler
you are. I'm repeating what might be rumored by fools. Yes... he's
an officer in the area. He walks along" our streets morning and evening.
So it's not out of the question that people, if they learned he
was marrying one of the girls, would suspect that he might have seen
one of them. I would despise giving my daughter to someone if that
meant stirring up doubts about my honor. No daughter of mine will
marry a man until I am satisfied that his primary motive for marrying
her is a sincere desire to be related to me... me... me... me. 'No
man has ever seen either of my daughters... ' Congratulations, Mrs.
Amina, congratulations."
The mother listened with her head bowed, not uttering a word.
The room was still. Then the man rose, signaling that he was going
to put on his street clothes and return to his shop. She quickly got
up. Her husband took his arms out of the sleeves of his house shirt
and raised it to take it off but stopped before the neck of the shirt
had gone past his chin. With the garment folded around his shoulders
like the mane of a lion, he asked, "Didn't Mr. Fahmy understand the
seriousness of the request his friend was making?" Nodding his head
sadly, he Continued: "People envy me my three sons. The truth is
that all I've got are daughters... five daughters."
Once al-Sayyid Ahmad left the house, they soon learned what he
thought about Aisha's engagement. Although his opinion was accepted
without opposition by people obliged to agree with him, it
reverberated inside each of them in different ways. Fahmy was sorry
to bear the news. He was unhappy Aisha was going to lose a fine
husband like his friend Hasan Ibrahim. Before his father's decision,
Fahmy had wavered between enthusiasm for the prospective bridegroom
and sympathy for Khadija's delicate position. When the matter
was settled, the part of him pitying Khadija found relief, while the
other part wishing for Aisha's happiness was sad. This sorrow gave
him the courage to state his opinion openly: "Without any doubt,
Khadija's future is of concern to all of us, but I don't agree with the
insistence on forbidding Aisha to take advantage of her opportunities.
A person's fortune is part of the invisible world known only to God.
Perhaps God has stored up an even better fortune for the person
forced to wait."
Khadija was possibly the one who felt most uncomfortable, since
this was the second time she had stcod in the way of her sister's
getting married. She brooded about her anguish, not while her future
was on the line, but after her father's categorical decision, when the
danger threatening her had retreated. Then her anger and pain faded
away, to be replaced by a distressing feeling of embarrassment and
anguish. Fahmy's words did not please her, because deep inside she
wanted everyone to support her father's decision and leave her the
only one opposing it. All the same, she commented, "Fahmy was
right in what he said. That's what I've thought all along."
Yasin reaffirmed his idea: "Marriage is the destiny of every living
creature.... Have no fear.... Don't panic."
He contented himself with this general observation, even though
he was very fond of Aisha and indignant over the injustice that had
befallen her. He was afraid that if he stated his opinion frankly, Khadija
might misunderstand and suspect some link between this and
the innocent squabbles that frequently broke out between them. His
PALACE WALK
I"9
sensitivity about being a half brother also prevented him from volunteering
an opinion that might offend a family member whenever
they confronted a serious matter of delicate family business.
Aisha had not uttered a word but finally forced herself to speak,
so her silence would not betray her pain, which she was determined
to conceal. She would pretend to have no feelings about the engagement,
no matter how much that distressed her, and announce her
relief about the outcome, to conform with the atmosphere of the
household that did not allow human emotions their rightful place and
where the affections of the heart were hidden behind veils of selfdenial
and hypocrisy. So she said, "It wouldn't be right for me to
marry before Khadiia. The best thing by far is what my father has
decided." She continued with a smile: "Why should you all be in
such a hurry to get married? How do you know that we'll enjoy as
happy a life in our spouse's home as we do here in our father's
house?"
When, as usual, they picked up their conversation around the stove
that evening, Aisha did not hesitate to participate in it as much as
she was able, given her wandering thoughts and the disintegration of
her ego. In truth, she resembled nothing so much as a chicken with
its head cut off, darting about with outspread wings, bursting with
vitality and energy at the very moment blood flowed from its neck,
draining away the last drops of life.
Aisha had anticipated what would happen even before the matter
was presented to her father. All the same, she had nourished a glimmer
of hope in her dreams, like one of us tempted by the hope of
winning first prize in a major lottery. At first, influenced by the generosity
that comes with victory or happiness and by affection for her
unlucky sister, she had been willing to object to getting married. Now
her generosity had faded away and her affection had dwindled. Nothing
remained but resentment, anger, and despair. There was not a
thing she could do about it. This was her father's will and she could
not criticize it. All she could do was submit and obey. In fact, she
had to be happy and content. To be despondent would be an unforgivable
offense. To protest would be a sin her conscience and sense
of etiquette could not allow. From the intoxication of bounteous happiness
that had elated her night and day she awoke to despair. How
gloomy the darkness seemed coming immediately after dazzling light.
Thus the pain was not limited to the current darkness but was doubled
many times over by regret for the light that had vanished. She
Naguib Mahfou
asked herself why, since light had been able to shine for a while, it
could not keep on shining. Why should it die out? Why had it died
out? It was a new regret to add to the others--drawn from memories,
the present, and dreams of the future--that sorrow was weaving
around her heart. Although she was sunk in thought about this and
it dominated her feelings, she wondered again, as though for the first
time, whether the light had really gone out. The bitter truth seemed
to be bombarding her emotions for the very first time.
Had the ties been severed between her and the young man who
had filled her heart and imagination? Here was a new question, no
matter how often it was repeated, and a new shock even though it
had already penetrated her very bones. Her searing regret kept getting
buffeted by the despair consuming her and the hopes fluttering
in the air. Whenever a hope took flight, regret returned and settled
deep inside her, to float back to the surface time and again, until it
was firmly established. When her soul had bade farewell to the last
of her hopes, regret became an inseparable part of her.
It was over, as though he had never existed. There was no way to
get him now. How easy it was for them. They treated it like an
everyday affair, as though remarking, "What are we going to eat
tomorrow?" or "I had a strange dream last night" or even "You can
smell the jasmine all over the roof terrace." A word here and a word
there.., a suggestion to announce and an opinion to explain. They
were strangely calm and reserved, offering her smiling condolences
and jesting encouragement. Then the topic of conversation would
change and branch out.
Everything had ended. It would be incorporated into the family
history and forgotten. How did her heart fit in with all this? She did
not have a heart. No one imagined she had one. So in reality it did
not exist. How alienated she felt. She was lost and abandoned. They
were not part of her. She was not part of them. She was alone,
banished, disowned. How could she forget that a single word bestowed
by her father's tongue would suffice to change the face of the
world and turn her into a new person? Just one word, the expression
"yes," would be enough to produce a miracle. It would not have cost
him a tenth of the effort that went into the long discussion leading
to his refusal. Yet he had willed otherwise and had been pleased to
let her suffer all this torment.
Although she was hurt, angry, and resentful, these emotions could
not touch her father. They fell back impotently like a wild animal
PALACE WALK
stopped by its trainer, whom it loves and fears. Aisha was not able
to attack her father, not even in the depths of her heart. She continued
in her love and devotion for him. She felt sincerely dutiful to him, as
though he were a god whose decree could only be received with
submission, love, and loyalty.
That evening the young girl tightened the rope of despair around
her delicate neck. Her sensitive heart believed it had dried up and
become barren forever. The role of happy indifference she had resolved
to assume with her family doubled her nervous tension, as did
participation in their conversation, which she imposed on herself. Finally
her golden head bowed under the strain and their voices became
a dull clamor in her ears. As soon as it was time to withdraw to the
bedroom she collapsed there in exhaustion like an invalid. In the
security provided by the darkness of the room, her face frowned for
the first time, presenting an accurate reflection of the state of her
heart.
Someone was still watching her, Khadija, but Aisha had been sure
from the start that dissimulation would be useless with her. When
they were at the coffee hour, she had avoided her eyes. Now that she
was sitting beside her, there was no escape and no place to flee. Aisha
expected her sister to pounce on the subject with her customary resolve.
She waited from one moment to the next for the sound of her
voice. Her heart welcomed the conversation, but not because it would
give birth to any new hope. She wished to find some consolation in
the excuses and anguish her sister would certainly express truthfully.
She did not have long to wait before Khadija's voice did make its
way to her through the darkness: "Aisha, I'm really sorry, but God
knows there's nothing I can do. I wish I had enough courage to ask
Father to change his mind."
Aisha wondered whether these words were sincere or hypocritical.
She reacted immediately to her sister's sad tones with a feeling of
annoyance. Even so, she was forced to resume the false voice of
happy indifference she had used throughout the coffee bout with her
mother. She replied, "What's there to be sad or despondent about?
My father wasn't in error. He wasn't unjust. There's no need to be
in a hurry."
"This is the second time your marriage has been delayed because
of me."
"I'm not sorry at all."
Khadiia observed pointedly, "But this time's not like the first."
Naguib Mahfou
As quick as lightning Aisha realized what her sister meant. Her
heart pounded painfully with love and regret, weeping from passion
and love. It was a hidden love, Which could be awakened by any hint
reaching it from outside, whether intentional or accidental, like a sore
or a boil that hurts when touched or pierced. She started to talk, but
was forced to stop because she Was out of breath. She was afraid her
voice would give her away.
Then Khadija sighed and remarked, "That's why you find me so
sad and melancholy. But our Lord is generous. There's no distress
that's not followed by relief. Perhaps he'll wait and be patient, so he
becomes your destiny no matter how unlikely that seems now."
Every part of Aisha's body cried out, "If only that were so!" But
her tongue said, "It's all the same to me. The matter's simpler than
you think."
"I hope that's the case. I'm very sad and upset, Aisha."
The door opened suddenly, and the form of Kamal could be made
out in the faint light slipping in f'om the crack of the door. Khadija
shouted at him crossly, "Why have you come? What do you want?"
The boy answered in a tone that revealed his indignation at her
rude reception, "Don't drive me aay.... Make room for me."
He jumped onto the bed and lnelt between them. He put out a
hand to each of them and began to tickle them. He wished to create
a better atmosphere for his discussion than that suggested by Khadija's
rebuff. They grabbed his hands, however, and said one after
the other, "It's time for you to go to bed. Go and sleep."
He shouted angrily, "I won't go until I learn what I've come to
ask you about."
"What do you want to ask abotat at this hour of the night?"
Changing his tone in hopes they would pay attention to him, he
asked, "I want to know whether you'll both leave the house when
you get married."
Khadiia yelled at him, "Wait till the marriage takes place!"
He asked obstinately, "But what is marriage?"
"How can I answer you when [ haven't been married?... Go and
sleep. May God protect you from evil."
"I won't go until I find out."
"My dear, trust in God and lea.,e us."
In a sad voice he said, "I wahl: to know if you'll both leave the
house when you get married."
She replied angrily, "Yes, sir.... What else do you want?"
He said anxiously, "Then don't get married. That's what [ want."
PALACE WALK
I63
"We hear and obey."
Then he went on, protesting excitedly, "I can't bear for you to go
far away from us. I'll pray to God that you never get married."
Khadija shouted, "Straight from your mouth to the portals of
heaven.... Great... wonderful. May our Lord be generous to you.
Be kind enough to leave us in peace."
A feeling spread through the household that they would have a day's
reprieve from their oppressively prim life. Safe from their guardian's
eye, they would be able, if they so desired, to get an innocent breath
of fresh air. Kamal was of the opinion that he could do as he wished
and spend the whole day playing, inside the house and out. Khadija
and Aisha wondered if they might slip over to Maryam's house in
the evening to spend an hour there having fun and amusing themselves.
This
break did not come as a result of the passing of the gloomy
winter months and the arrival of the first signs of spring with intimations
of warmth and good cheer. It was not occasioned by spring
granting this family liberty they had been deprived of by winter. This
respite came as a natural consequence of a business trip, lasting a day
or more, that al-Sayyid Ahmad made to Port Said every few years.
It so happened that he set out on a Friday morning when the weekly
holiday brought the family together. They all responded eagerly to
the freedom and the peaceful, relaxed atmosphere the father's departure
from Cairo had unexpectedly created.
The mother hesitantly dashed the girls' hopes and the young boy's
high spirits. She wanted to make sure the family persisted with its
customary schedule and adhered, even when the father was absent,
to the same rules it observed when he was present. She was more
concerned to keep from vexing him than she was convinced that he
was right to be so severe and stern.
Before she knew what was happening, though, here was Yasin
saying, "Don't oppose God's plan Nobody else lives like us. In
fact, I want to say something novel Why don't you have some
fun too? What do you all think about this suggestion?"
Their eyes looked at him in astonishment, but no one said a word.
Perhaps, like their mother, who gave him a critical look, they did not
take what he was saying seriously. All the same, he continued: "Why
are you looking at me like this? I haven't contravened any of the
directives of the Prophet recorded in the revered collection of alBukhari.
Praise God, no crime has been committed. All it would
PALACE WALK /'dy
amount to is a brief excursion to have a look at a little of the district
you've lived in for forty years but never seen."
The woman sighed and murmured, "May God be merciful to you."
The young man laughed out loud. He said, "Why should you ask
God to be merciful to me? Have I committed some unforgivable sin?
By God, if I were you, I'd go as far as the mosque of our master al
Husayn.... Our master al-Husayn, don't you hear?... Your beloved
saint whom you adore from afar when he's so near. Go to him. Hc's
calling you."
Her heart pounded and the effect could be seen in her blush. She
lowered her head to hide how deeply she was affected. Her heart
responded to the call with a force that exploded suddenly in her soul.
She was taken by surprise. No one around her could have anticipated
this, not even Yasin himself. It was as though an earthquake had
shaken a land that had never experienced one before. She did not
understand how her heart could answer this appeal, how her eyes
could look beyond the limits of what was allowed, or how she could
consider the adventure possible and even tempting, no--irresistible.
Of course, since it was such a sacred pilgrimage, a visit to the shrine
of al-Husayn appeared a powerful excuse for the radical leap her will
was making, but that was not the only factor influencing her soul.
Deep inside her, imprisoned currents yearning for release responded
to this call in the same way that eager, aggressive instincts answer
the call for a war proclaimed to be in defense of freedom and peace.
She did not know how to announce her fateful surrender. She
looked at Yasin and said in a trembling voice, "A visit to the shrine
of al-Husayn is something my heart has wished for all my life...
but... your father?"
Yasin laughed and answered, "My father's on his way to Port Said.
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