He turned toward his brother to continue their interrupted conversation:
"They both have a point, although they might have expressed
it more clearly. Tell me, brother, what can Sa'd do against a nation
that now considers itself the unrivaled mistress of the world?"
The mother nodded her head in agreement, as though he had been
addressing her. She stated: "The revolutionary leader Urabi Pasha
was one of the greatest men and one of the most courageous. Sa'd
and the others are nothing compared with him. He was in the cavalry,
a fighting man. What did he get from the English, boys? They imprisoned
him and then exiled him to a land on the other side of the
world."
Fahmy could not keep himself from entreating her crossly,
"Mother!... Won't you let us talk?"
She smiled in embarrassment, for she was anxious not to anger
him. She changed her zealous tone, as though announcing by this
change of tone a total shift of her opinion, and said gently and apologetically,
"Sir, everyone who tries hard deserves some reward. So
let them go there in God's safekeeping. Perhaps they'll win the sym.
pathy of the great queen.... "
Without thinking about what he was doing, the young man asked
her, "Which queen do you mean?"
"Queen Victoria, my son. Isn't that her name?... I often heard
my father talk about her. She's the one who ordered Urabi banished,
although according to what was said she admired his courage."
Yasin commented sarcastically, "If she banished the cavalry knight
Urabi, she's even more liable to banish that old man Sa'd."
The mother said, "All the same, she's a woman and no doubt still
bears in her chest a sensitive heart. If they speak to her the right way
and know how to win her affection, she'll be sympathetic to their
views."
Yasin was delighted by their mother's logic and the way she spoke
about the historic queen as though she were talking about Maryam's
mother or some other neighbor. He no longer felt like conversing
with Fahmy. To encourage her to say more he asked, "Tell us what
they should say to her?"
The woman, who was delighted by this request recognizing her
political acumen, sat up straight. As was appropriate for a "conference,"
she began to think with an intensity apparent in the way her
eyebrows were bunched together, but Fahmy did not give her time
Naguib Mahfou
to think through the subject to the end. Tersely and indignantly he
told her, "Queen Victoria died a long time ago. Don't wear yourself
out pointlessly."
Yasin noticed then from the cracks between the shutters that it was
starting to get dark outside. He realized it was time to excuse himself
from the coffee hour to go off in search of entertainment. Since he
was certain that Fahmy's thirst for conversation had not yet been
quenched, he sought to apologize for his departure by putting his
weight behind the news that had captured Fahmy's interest. Rising,
he said, "They are men who doubtless know the danger of their
undertaking. Perhaps they've worked out a winning strategy. Let's
pray they succeed." He left the group after gesturing to Zaynab to
follow and get his clothes ready.
Fahmy watched him depart with a look that was slightly hostile.
lie was angry that he had not found a partner to share the excitement
of his ardent soul. Talk of national liberation excited great dreams in
him. In that magical universe he could visualize a new world, a new
nation, a new home, a new people. Everyone would be astir with
vitality and enthusiasm. The moment his mind returned to this stifling
atmosphere of lassitude, ignorance, and indifference, he felt a blazing
fire of distress and pain that desired release from its confinement in
order to shoot up to the sky. At that moment he wished with all his
heart that the night would pass in the twinkling of an eye so he could
be surrounded once more by a group of his fellow students. Then he
would be able to quench his thirst for enthusiasm and freedom and
ascend with their blazing zeal to that great world of dreams and glory.
Yasin had asked what Sa'd could do face to face with a country
that now was justly considered the mistress of the world. Fahmy did
not know exactly what Sa'd would do or what he could do himself,
but he felt with all the power of his being that there was work to be
done. Possibly there was no example in the real world, but he sensed
it existed in his heart and blood. It had to manifest itself in the light
of life and reality. Otherwise, life and reality would be in vain. Life
would be a meaningless game and a bad joke.
The street in front of al-Sayyid Ahmad's store did not look any different,
for it was crowded with pedestrians, vehicles, and customers
of the shops crammed along either side. Overhead there was a decorative,
misty quality to the light. It was a pleasant November day
and the sun was obscured by thin clouds. There were pure white
billows resembling pools of light over the Qala'un and Barquq minarets.
Nothing in the sky or on the ground seemed to differ from
what al-Sayyid Ahmad saw every day, but the man's soul, those of
the people connected to him, and perhaps those of everyone else too,
had been exposed to a powerful wave of excitement almost making
them lose control of themselves. A1-Sayyid Ahmad went so far as to
say he had never experienced times like these when people were so
united by a single piece of news, their hearts all beating with the
same emotion.
Fahmy, usually silent in his father's presence, had initiated a conversation
to tell him in great detail what he had learned about Sa'd's
meeting with the High Commissioner. That same evening at al
Sayyid Ahmad's musical soiree, some of his friends had confirmed
the truth of the information.
In his shop, customers who did not know each other had, on more
than one occasion, plunged into a discussion of this meeting. That
very morning, to his surprise, Shaykh Mutawalli Abd al-Samad had
burst into the store after a long absence. He had not been satisfied to
recite some verses from the Qur'an and receive the customary gift of
sugar and soap but had insisted on recounting news of the visit as
though making the first announcement.
When al-Sayyid Ahmad had asked him playfully what he thought
the outcome of the visit would be, the shaykh had replied, "It's impossible!
... It's impossible that the English will leave Egypt. Do
you think they're crazy enough to leave the country without a
fight?... There certainly would be fighting, and we would lose. So
there's no way to expel them. Perhaps our men could succeed in
getting the Australians sent away. Then order could be restored.
Things would fever to the way they used to be. There'd be peace."
3z8
Naguib Makfou[
In these" days of news and overflowing feelings al-Sayyid Abroad
was intensely receptive to infectious nationalist political aspirations.
He was in such an expectant and attentive mood that he read with
passionate enthusiasm the newspapers, which for the most part
seemed as if they had been published in some other country where
there was no passion or awakening. He greeted his friends with an
inquisitive look that yearned to discover anything new they had
learned.
It was in this fashion that he greeted Mr. Muhammad Iffat when
he hurried into the store. The penetrating look and energetic motions
of the man indicated that he was not just a casual visitor stopping by
the store to drink some coffee or tell an amusing anecdote. The proprietor
found that his friend's appearance matched his own anxious
feelings, which were full of nationalist aspirations. While his friend
was still making his way through the customers being served by Jamil
al-Hamzawi, al-Say2cid Ahmad welcomed him: *'It's a damp morning.
What do you know, you lion?"
Mr. Muhammad Iffat sat down next to the desk. He smiled proudly,
as though the proprietor's question, "What do you know?"bthe
same question he repeated whenever he met one of his friends--was
a recognition of Mr. Iffat's importance during these especially significant
days, because of his ties of kinship to some influential Egyptian
personalities. Mr. Iffat was also a link between the original group of merchants and those distinguished civil servants and attorneys who
had joined them later. Of all these men, al-Sayyid Abroad held the
most cherished spot in his friend's affection because of his personality
and disposition. A.lthough the value of Mr. Iffat's connections had
never been lost on his old friends who looked up to the civil servants
and people with tides, it had increased now that fresh information
was more important than water or food.
Mr. Iffat spread out a sheet of paper he had been holding in his
right hand. Then he said, "Here's a new step. Im no longer simply
reporting news. I've become a messenger to bring you and other
noble people this joyous authorization petition " Murmuring,
"Read it," he offered the paper to himwith a smile.
AI-Sayyid Abroad took it and read aloud: "We, the signatories of
this document, authorize Messrs. Sa'd Zaghlul Pasha, A.li Sha'rawi
Pasha, Abd al-Aziz Fahmy Bey, Muhammad All Alluba Bey, Abd al
Latif al-Makabbati, Muhammad Mahmud Pasha, and Abroad Lutfi al
Sayyid Bey, and those persons they choose to include in their hum
PALACE WALK
3.z9
her, to strive by all legal and peaceful means available to them to
achieve the total independence of Egypt."
The proprietor's face was radiant when he read the names of the
Egyptian delegation, for he had heard them mentioned when nationalism
was discussed. He asked, "What does this paper mean?"
The man replied enthusiastically, "Don't you see these signatures?
Put yours below them and get Jamil al-Hamzawi to sign too. This is
one of the authorization petitions the delegation has had printed up
for citizens to sign. They'll use them to show that they represent the
Egyptian nation."
AI-Sayyid Ahmad took a pen and signed with a delighted gleam in
his blue eyes. He smiled in a sensitive way that revealed his happiness
and pride at having Sa'd and his colleagues represent him. Although
those men had.not been famous long, they had been
welcomed into everyone's heart, arousing deep, suppressed desires.
Their encouraging impact was like that of a new cure on a patient
with an old malady that has resisted treatment, even though he is
trying the medicine for the first time. The proprietor summoned al
Hamzawi, who also signed. Then he turned to his friend and remarked
with intense interest, "It seems the matter is serious."
The man pounded on the edge of the desk with his fist and said,
"Extremely serious. It's all progressing with forceful determination,
Do you know what motivated the printing of these petitions? It's said
that 'the man,' the British High Commissioner, asked in what capacity
Sa'd and his colleagues had spoken with him on the morning of
November the thirteenth. So the delegation has had to rely on these
petitions to prove that they speak in the name of the nation."
The proprietor commented emotionally, "If only Muhammad Farid
were here with us too."
"Some of the men of the National Party have joined the delegation:
Muhammad All Alluba Bey and Abd al-Latif al-Makkabati.... " He
shrugged his shoulders as though to shake away the past and then
said, "We all remember Sa'd from the enormous row he stirred up
when he was appointed Minister of Education and then Minister of
Justice. I still remember that the nationalist newspaper al-Liwa' welcomed
him when he was nominated to the cabinet, although I can't
forget its attacks on him afterward. I won't deny that I was influenced
by his critics because of my devotion to the late Mustafa Kamil, but
Sa'd has always shown that he merits admiration. His most recent
move entitles him to the highest regard."
33o
Naguib Mahfou
"You're right. It's a blessed undertaking. Let's pray to God it meets
with success." Then he asked with concern, "Do you think they'll be
allowed to make the trip?... What do you think they'll do if they
go there?"
Mr. Muhammad Iffat rolled up the petition. Then as he rose he
said, "Tomorrow's not far off...."
On their way to the door, the proprietor's playful spirit got the
better of him and he whispered into his friend's ear, "I'm so happy
about this petition that I could be a drunkard lifting his eighth glass
between Zubayda's thighs."
Muhammad Iffat waggled his head enthusiastically, as though intoxicated
by the picture his imagination had coniured up at the mention
of a glass of wine and Zubayda. He murmured, "Oh what we'll
soon be hearing.... "
Then he left the store and his smiling friend called after him, "And
what we'll see after that.... "
Al-Sayyid Abroad returned to his desk. His face showed the happy
impact of the jest, even though his patriotic enthusiasm had not subsided
in his heart. He was like this in all concerns of life, so long
as they had no connection to his home. He could be totally serious
when that was called for but would not hesitate to lighten the atmosphere
with humor and mirth whenever he felt like it, motivated
by an irresistible urge. He had an unusual ability to reconcile seriousness
and mirth, without either one suppressing or spoiling the
other. His jesting was not a luxury of marginal importance to his
life but was as much a necessity as seriousness. He had never been
able to achieve total seriousness or to concentrate his energies on
it. Consequently, he had been content to limit his patriotism to an
emotional and psychic participation, not taking any action that might
have altered the life he enjoyed so much that he would not have
exchanged it for any other. For this reason he had never thought
of joining one of the committees of the National Party, even though
he was deeply attached to its principles. He had never even taken
the trouble to go to one of their rallies. Would that not have been
a waste of his precious time? The nation did not need his time, and
he was eager to have every minute of it to spend on his family, on
his business, and especially on his amusements with his friends and
chums. Thus his time was reserved for his own life, and the nation
was welcome to a share of his heart and emotions. It was easier to
part with money than time. He was not stingy about contributing
to the cause. He did not feel he was neglecting his duty in any way.
PALACE WALK 35I
On the contrary, he was known among his comrades for his patriotism,
both because none had a heart as liberal with its emotions
as his and because even those with liberal hearts were not as generous
with their financial contributions. His patriotism set him apart
so that he was known for it. It was added to the rest of the fine
qualities on which he secretly prided himself. He could not imagine
that the nationalist cause could ask any more of him after he had
given so generously. Although his heart was filled with romance,
music, and humor, he still found room for patriotism. Even if his
nationalist fervor was confined to his heart, it was strong and deep,
preoccupying and engrossing his soul.
His patriotism had not come to him accidentally. It had matured
with him since childhood, when he had heard the previous generation
recount tales of the heroism of the Egyptian revolutionary Urabi.
It had been enflamed by articles and speeches printed in the nationalist
newspaper al-Liwa'. And what a unique sight it had been,
arousing both laughter and concern, the day he was seen crying like
a baby over the death of Mustafa Kamil. His companions were
touched because none of them had been indisposed at all by their
sorrow. At their party that evening they had roared with laughter
when they recalled the improbable sight of the "Lord of Laughter"
sobbing with tears.
Today, after years of the war, now waning, after the death of the
youthful leader of the National Party and the banishment of his successor,
after all hope for the return of "Our Effendi" Khedive Abbas
II had been lost, after the defeat of Turkey and the victory of the
English, after all of this or in spite of all of this, there came amazing
news, the facts of which seemed like legends: presenting to the Englishman,
the High Commissioner, demands for independence, signing
nationalist petitions, and wondering about the next step. Hearts
were shaking off the dust to separate out what was vital to them.
Souls were radiant with their hopes. What was behind all of this?
His pacific soul, accustomed to passivity, wondered about this turn
of events to no avail. He could hardly wait for nightfall so he could
rush to his musical gathering, where political talk had become the
appetizer before the drinks and music. It fit in with the other attractions
that made him long for his evening's entertainment, like
Zubayda, his love for his comrades, the drinking and the music. In
that enticing atmosphere, it appeared pleasantly refreshing and induced
emotions like enthusiasm and love without asking more of
the heart than it could bear.
33z
Nag'uib Mahfou
AI-Sayyid Abroad was thinking about all of this when Jamii alHamzawi
came over to him and asked, "Have you heard about the
new name that's being given to the home of Sa'd Pasha?... They're
calling it 'the House of the Nation.'" He leaned toward his employer
to tell him how this news had reached him.
While the nation was preoccupied by its demand for freedom, Yasin
was likewise resolutely and determinedly striving to take charge of
his own destiny. He was struggling for the right to go on his nightly
outings, which he had virtuously given up for several weeks following
his marriage. An excuse he frequently repeated to himself was
that he could not have imagined while intoxicated by the dream of
marriage that he would ever return to the life of idling his time away
at the coffee shop and Costaki's bar. He had sincerely believed he
had set that aside for good, since he harbored only the best of intentions
for his married life. When the hopeless and total disappointment
of marriage overwhelmed him, his nerves were agitated by enduring
the boredom or "the emptiness of life," as he put it. With all the
strength of his pampered and sensitive soul, he sought escape
through relaxation, entertainment, and distraction at the coffee shop
and the bar. This was no longer the temporary life of amusement he
had thought it to be when he treasured the hope of getting married.
It was all that life had left for him to enjoy after marriage had become
a bitter disappointment. He was like a person whose hopes forced
him away from his native land but whose failure brought him back
repentant.
Zaynab had once experienced his warm affection and greedy flattery.
She had even been so cherished by him that he had taken her
to the theater to see Kishkish Bey in defiance of the bulwark of stern
conventions his father had constructed around the family. Now this
same Zaynab had to endure his staying out until midnight evening
after evening and coming home staggering drunk. It was a blow she
found painful to bear.
She could not keep herself from expressing her sorrows to him.
He had known instinctively that a sudden transformation in his married
life could not be accomplished peacefully. From the beginning
he had expected some form of resistance, whether criticism or a quarrel.
He had taken precautions to secure his position with the same
forcefulness his father had employed on intercepting him the night
he returned from Kishkish Bey, when he had told Yasin, "Only men
Naguib Mahfou
can ruin women, and not every man is capable of being a guardian
for them."
As soon as she voiced her complaints, he told her, "There's no
reason to be sad, darling. Since antiquity, houses have been for
women and the outside world for men. Men are all like this. A sincere
husband is as faithful to his wife when he's away from her as when
he's with her. Moreover, the refreshment and delight I derive from
my outings will make our life together thoroughly enjoyable."
When she mentioned his drinking and protested that she was afraid
for his health, he laughed and observed in a tone that blended tenderness
with resolve, "All men drink. Getting drunk is good for my
health." Then he laughed some more and suggested, "Ask my father
or yours."
Even so, she tried to drag out the discussion, guided by false
hopes. He was resolute, drawing courage from his boredom, which
made it easier than before to feel indifferent about angering her. He
proceeded to emphasize that men have an absolute right to do anything
they want and women a duty to obey and abide by the rules.
"Look at my father's wife. Have you ever seen her object to his
conduct?... In spite of that, they are a happy couple and a stable
family. There will be no need to talk about this subject again."
Perhaps if he had left it up to his feelings, he would not have
spoken to her so diplomatically, for his disappointment with marriage
made him feel something like a desire for revenge. At other times,
he felt a kind of intermittent loathing for her, although neither of
these sentiments kept him from wanting her. He was considerate of
her feelings out of fear or respect for his father, who was very fond
of Mr. Muhammad Iffat. Nothing disturbed him so much as his fear
that she might complain about him to her father, who would then
complain to al-Sayyid Ahmad. He had even decided that if something
like that happened he would take a separate house, no matter what
the consequences.
His fears were not realized. Despite her grief, the girl proved that
she was "reasonable," as though she were the same type of woman
as his father's wife. She evaluated her position carefully and resigned
herself to the situation. She had to fall back on her husband's oft
repeated assertions of his fidelity and of the innocence of his nightly
excursions. She was content to air her pain and sorrow within the
narrow family circle at the coffee hour, where she received no real
support. How could she in a household that viewed submission to
men as a religion and a creed? Mrs. Amina disapproved of her com
PALACE WALK
33Y
plaints and was annoyed at her strange craving to monopolize her
husband. The mother was unable to imagine women being any different
from her or men from her husband. She saw nothing strange
in the enjoyment Yasin derived from his freedom. What seemed
strange to her was his wife's complaint.
Only Fahmy appreciated her sorrows. He took it on himself to
repeat them to Yasin, although he was certain from the start that he
was defending a lost cause. He may have been encouraged to bring
up the topic because they met frequently at the coffee shop of Ahmad
Abduh in Khan al-Khalili. That coffee shop was situated belowground
like a cave hewn from a mountain. Residences of this
ancient district formed its roof. Its narrow rooms faced each other
around a courtyard with an abandoned fountain, cut off from the
outside world. Its lamps were lit both day and night, and it had a
calm, dreamy, cool atmosphere.
Yasin had chosen this coffee shop because it was close to Costaki's
bar and because he had been forced to abandon al-Sayyid Ali's coffee
shop in al-Ghuriya after breaking up with Zanuba. The antique look
of this new haunt also appealed to his poetic inclinations. Fahmy had
not learned the route to coffeehouses as the result of any setback to
his career as a diligent student. He came in response to the troubled
times, which called on the students and everyone else to meet and
consult. He and some comrades had chosen Abduh's coffeehouse for
the antique characteristics that made it a refuge from prying eyes.
They sat there evening after evening to talk, scheme, predict, and
await forthcoming events.
The two brothers met frequently in one of the small rooms, if only
for a short time before Fahmy's colleagues arrived or Yasin moved
on to Costaki's bar. On one of these occasions, Fahmy alluded to
Zaynab's distress. He expressed his astonishment at his brother's conduct,
which was not compatible with the married life of a young
couple. Yasin laughed as though he felt be had every right to mock
his brother's na'ivet in offering advice about something of which he
was totally ignorant. He did not wish to justify his conduct directly,
preferring to say whatever came to mind. He told the young man,
"You wanted to marry Maryam. No doubt you were deeply saddened
when Father prevented that desire from being fulfilled. I tell you, and
I really know what I'm talking about, that if you had known then
what marriage conceals beneath the surface you would have praised
God for your failure."
Fahmy was astonished and even alarmed. He had not expected to
Nguii Mfou
be assaulted so abruptly by phrases combining the woMs "Maryam,"
"marriage," and "desire," which had played unforgettable roles on
the stage of his heart. He may have exaggerated his astonishment to
conceal the emotional impact of these memories. Perhaps that was
the reason he was unable to say a word.
Gesturing to express his weariness and boredom, Yasin continued:
"I never imagined that marriage would be so dreary. In fact, it's
nothing more than a false dream. It's a cruel and evil swindler."
These words seemed difficult for Fahmy to stomach and aroused
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