Only Kamal remained seated. He looked at the door of the sitting
room mournfully, his heart pounding.
AI-Sayyid Ahmad sat at his desk bent over his ledgers, immersing
himself in his daily tasks, which helped him forget, if only temporar.
ily, his personal worries as well as the bloody public ones that were
in the news all the time. He had grown to love the store as much as
his evenings of fellowship and music, because in both situations he
successfully freed himself from the hell of thinking. Although the
store's atmosphere was full of haggling, selling, buying, making
money, and similar concerns of ordinary, daily life, it restored his
confidence that everything could return to normal, to the original
condition of peace and stability. Peace? Where had it gone and when
would it be ready to return? Even in his store there were distressing,
whispered conversations about bloody events. Customers were no
longer content just to bargain and buy. Their tongues kept belaboring
the news and bewailing events. Over the bags of rice and coffee
beans he had heard about the battle of Bulaq, the massacres at Asyut,
the funeral processions with tens of coffins, and the young man who
had wrested a machine gun away from the enemy, intending to bring
it back into al-Azhar Mosque, only to be killed before he could get
there as swarms of bullets sank into his body. News like this, tinged
crimson with blood, assaulted his ears from time to time in the very
place where he had taken refuge, seeking to forget.
How miserable it was to live constantly in the shadow of death.
Why did not the revolution achieve its objectives quickly before he
or any of his family was harmed?... He was not stingy with money
and did not begrudge it his emotional involvement, but sacrificing a
life was another matter. What kind of punishment was God inflicting
on His flock? Life had become cheap and blood was flowing The
revolution was no longer a thrilling spectacle. It threatened his security
whenever he came or went and menaced the life of his rebellious
son. His enthusiasm for it, but not for its goal, had dwindled.
He still dreamt of independence and the return of Sa'd, but without
a revolution, bloodshed, or terror. He chanted slogans with the demonstrators
and was zealous with the zealots, but his mind was at
PALACE WALK 463
• J,, life and struRRled to resist this current, like a tree trunk in
tcffecllVis branches ")rn off by storms. Nothing, no matter how
n'W'great, would weaken his love for life. Let him keep his love for life
to the end of his days. If only Fahmy felt that way too, so that he
0uld not sacrifice his life; Fahmy, the disobedient son who had
thrown himself into the stream without a life preserver.
"Is aI-Sayyid Ahmad here?"
He heard the voice and sensed that someone was hurtling into the
shop like a human projectile. He looked up from his desk and saw
Shavkh Mutawalli Abd al-Samad in the middle of the room blinking
hs 'n flamed eyes, futilely trying to peer toward the desk. Al-Sayyid
Ahmad's spirits rose. With a smile he shouted at the visitor, "Make
y0u,elf at home, Shaykh Mutawalli. We are blessed by your pres
The
shaykh appeared reassured. He advanced, his torso swaying
backward and forward as though he were riding on a camel. AISayyid
Abroad leaned over his desk, putting out his hand to take his
visitor's and press it firmly, saying gently, "The chair's to your right.
Please sit down." Shaykh Mutawalli leaned his stick against the desk
and took his seat. Putting some of the weight of his shoulders on his
hands, which were placed on his knees, he said, "May God preserve
you and sustain you."
The proprietor responded wholeheartedly, "How fine your prayer
is and how much I've needed it." Turning toward Jamil al-Hamzawi,
who was weighing rice for a customer, he advised him; "Don't forget
to prepare the parcel for our master the shaykh."
Jamil al-Hamzawi responded, "Who could fo'tget our master the
shaykh?"
The shaykh spread out his hands and raised his head, moving his
lips in a quiet prayer of which only an intermittent whisper could be
heard. Then he returned to his former pose and was silent for a
moment. By way of invocation he said, "I begin with a prayer for
the Prophet, our guiding light."
A-l-Sayyid Ahmad said fervently, "The finest of all blessings and
Peace on him."
"I ask a double portion of mercy for your father of blessed mem
him."
hen
I ask God to delight your eyes with your family and offSpring
for generations to come."
Naguib Ma¥ou
"Amen."
Sighing he continued: "I ask Him to return to u '
s Our Effendi' the
Khedive Abbas II, Muhammad Farid, and Sa'd Zaghlul."
"May God hear your prayer."
"And devastate the English for their past and present sins."
"Glory to the Omnipotent Avenger."
At that point, the shaykh cleared his throat and wiped his face with
his palm before saying, "I saw you in a dream waving your hands.
As soon as I opened my eyes I resolved to visit you."
The proprietor smiled somewhat sadly and replied, "That's not
surprising, because I'm in desperate need of your blessings, may God
multiply them."
TheShaykh leaned his face toward al-Sayyid Ahmad affectionately
and asked, "Is what I heard about the incident at Bah al-Futuh correct?"
A1-Sayyid Ahmad smiled and answered him: "Yes... I wonder
who told you."
"I was passing by the oil-pressing establishment of Ghunaym
Hamidu when he stopped me and said, 'Haven't you heard what the
English did to me and your dear friend al-Sayyid Ahmad?' In alarm
I asked him to explain. So he told me, wonder of wonders."
AI-Sayyid Abroad recounted the whole stoW with every detail. He
never tired of repeating it, even though he had told it tens of times
over the past few days.
As the shaykh listened, he recited the Throne Verse about God
under his breath (Qur'an, 2:255). "Were you frightened, my son?" he asked. "Describe your fear to me. Tell me about it. There is no
power or might save from God. Were you convinced you would be
saved? Have you forgotten that fright doesn't just go away? You
prayed for a long time and asked God for salvation. That's excellent,
but you'll need an amulet."
"Why not!... It will bring us added blessings, Shaykh Mutawalli.
And the children and their mother--weren't they frightened too?"
"Of course... their hearts are weak, inexperienced with brutality
or terror.... An amulet.... An amulet's the remedy."
"You are goodness and blessing, Shaykh Mutawaili. God rescued
me from a grave evil, but there's another evil still threatening me that
keeps me awake nights."
Once again the shaykh's face leaned toward al-Sayyid Ahnaad affectionately.
He asked, "May God forgive you. What's troubling you,
SOn?"
PALACE WALK 46y
The proprietor looked at him despondently and muttered angrily,
"Idy son. Fa,h,my.".,
The shayiln rasea his white eyebrows inquisitively or in alarm
and commented hopefully, "He's safe, with the permission of God
the Merciful "
AI-Sayyid Ahmad shook his head sorrowfully and said, "He diso
beyed
me for the first time. The matter's in God's hands."
The shaykh spread his arms out in front of him as though to ward
off affliction and shouted, "I take refuge in God. Fahmy's my boy.
I'm certain he's dutiful by nature."
AI-Sayyid Ahmad said with annoyance, "His honor insists on
doing just what the other boys are doing at this bloody time."
The shaykh was astonished and incredulous. He protested, "You're
a resolute father. There's no doubt about that. I would never have
imagined that one of your sons would dare oppose you in anything."
These words cut him to the quick and drew blood. He felt upset
and inclined to downplay his son's rebellion in order to defend him
self,
both to the shaykh and to himself, against the accusation of
weakness. He said, "Of course he did not dare do so directly, but I
asked him to swear on a copy of the Qur'an that he would not par
ticipate
in any revolutionary activity. He wept instead of having the
courage to say no. What can I do? I can't lock him up in the house.
I can't keep him under surveillance at school. I'm afraid that the
current of events at this time will be too strong for a boy like him to
resist. What should I do? Threaten to beat him? Beat him? But what
good is a threat when he doesn't mind risking death?"
The shaykh stroked his face and asked anxiously, "Has he thrown
himself into the demonstrations?"
Shaking his broad shoulders, the proprietor answered, "Of course
not. But he distributes handbills. When I pressured him, he claimed
he only distributed them to his best friends."
"Why is he interested in such activities?... He's the mild-man
nered
son of a mild-mannered father. These activities are for a dif
ferent
type of man. Doesn't he know that the English are brutes with
,.
ugh hearts unaffected by mercy who feed on the blood of the poor
ptians from dawn to dusk? Talk to him amicably. Preach to him.
how him the difference between light and darkness. Tell him that
YoU're his father, that you love him and are afraid for him. For my
Part, I'll make several amulets of a special type and remember him in
rY prayers, especially the Dawn Prayer. It's God who is our help
on first to last."
Naguib Mahfou
The proprietor said mournfully, "Every hour there's more news of
fatalities. That should be warning enough for anyone with half a
mind. What's happened to his intellect? The son of al-Fuli, the milkman,
was lost in an instant. Fahmy attended the funeral with me and
offered his condolences to the boy's poor father. The lad was distrib.
uting bowls of curdled milk when he ran into a demonstration. He
was tempted by fate to join it, without giving the matter any thought.
Then in not much more than an hour he was slain in front of alAzhar
Mosque. There's no might or power save with God. We are
from God and return to God. When he was late getting hack, his
father became anxious and went to his customers to ask after him.
Some of them said he had brought the milk and departed and others
said he had not passed by them as usual. When he reached Hamrush,
who sells sweet shredded pasta bars, he found the boy's tray and the
remaining bowls that hadn't been distributed. Hamrush told the father
that the boy had left them with him while he participated in a demonstration
that afternoon. The poor man went crazy and proceeded
at once to the Gamaliya police station. They sent him to the Qasr alAyni
Hospital, where he found his son in the autopsy room. Fahmy
heard the story with all the details, just the way al-Fuli related it to
us when we were at his house to offer him our condolences. Fahmy
learned how the boy had been lost and might just as well have never
existed. He witnessed the father's excruciating grief and heard the
wails of the family. The poor lad perished, but Sa'd didn't remm and
the English didn't leave. If Fahmy were a stone, he would have uw
derstood something. Still, he's the best of my children, for which I
praise and thank God."
In a sad voice, Shaykh Mutawalli said, "I knew that poor boy. He
was the oldest of al-Fuli's children, isn't that so? His grandfather was
a donkey driver, and 1 used to hire his donkey,to go to Sidi Abu alSa'ud.
AI-Fuli has four children, but he was fondest of the one who
died."
For the first time lamil al-Hamzawi entered into their conveation:
"In these crazy times, people can't think straight, not even the young"
sters. Yesterday my son Fuad told his mother he wanted to take pan
in a demonstration."
AI-Sayyid Ahmad said anxiously, "The young ones participate in
demonstrations and the big ones are struck down in them. your son
Fuad's a friend of my son Kamai, and they both go.to the same
school. Hasn't he, haven't they both been tempted to join in a dem"
onstration?... Huh? Nothing seems amazing anymore."
PALACE WALK
Al.I-lamzawi regretted having let that slip out and observed, "It
hasn't gone this far, al-Sayyid Ahmad, sir. I disciplined him mercilessly
for his innocent wish. Mr. Kamal never goes out unless he's
accompanied by Umm Hanafi, may God preserve and watch over
hi."
They were silent. The only thing that could be heard in the store
was the rustling of the paper in which al-Hamzawi was wrapping the
present for Shayk,h, Mutaw, alli Abd al-$amad. Then the shaykh sighed
and commented, Fahmy s a bright boy. He mustn't let the English
threaten his dear soul. The English!... May God make it up to me.
Haven't you heard what they did in the villages of al-Aziziya and
Badrashin? • •."
The proprietor was so perturbed he did not really wish to inquire
what had happened. He expected it would be the same sort of thing
he kept hearing about. He merely raised his eyebrows to seem interested.
The
shaykh commenced: "The day before yesterday I was visiting
the esteemed and noble Shaddad Bey Abd al-Hamid in his mansion
in al-Abbasiya. He invited me to have lunch and supper, so I presented
him with some amulets for him and the members of his household.
There I learned what happened at al-Aziziya and Badrashin."
The shaykh was silent for a bit. AI-Sayyid Ahmad asked, "The
well-known cotton merchant?"
"Shaddad Bey Abd al-Hamid is the greatest of all the cotton merchants.
Perhaps you knew his son Abd al-Hamid Bey Shaddad? He
was closely linked with Mr. Muhammad Iffat once."
AI-Sayyid Ahmad spoke slowly to give himself time to think: "I
remember I saw him at one of Mr. Muhammad Iffat's parties before
the outbreak of the war. Then I heard he had been exiled following
the fall of 'Our Effendi' Abbas II. What news is there of him?"
Shaykh Mutawalli replied quickly in passing, as though putting his
Words in parentheses so he could return directly to his original topic,
"He's still in exile. He lives in France with his wife and children.
$haddad Bey is intensely worried he will die before he sees his son
again in this world." He fell silent. Then he began to shake his head
right and left, reciting in a musical voice as though chanting the
°ning of a poem in praise of the Prophet, "Two or three hours
atter midnight when the oeoole were sleeoin, a few hundred British
sol,,
ders armed to the teeth surrounded the two towns.
AI-Sayyid Ahmad's attention was rudely awakened. "They surrounded
the villages when the people were sleeping? Weren't the
besiegers similar to the soldiers camped in front of the house. They
began by attacking me. What's the next step they plan?"
The shaykh slapped his knee as though trying to set the rhythm
for his recitation as he continued: "In each village they burst into the
home of the magistrate, ordering him to surrender his weapons. Then
they penetrated the women's quarters, where they plundered the jew
dry and insulted the women. They dragged them outside by their
hair, while the women wailed and called for help, but there was no
one to help them. Have sympathy, God, for Your weak servants.',
"The homes of the two magistrates! Isn't the magistrate a government
official? I'm no magistrate, nor is my house the home of one.
I'm just a man like any other. What might they do to people like us?
Imagine Amina being dragged by her hair. Is it fated that someday I'll wish I were insane?... Insane!"
Shaking his head, the shaykh continued with his account: "They
forced the magistrates to show them where the village elders and the
leading citizens lived. Then they stormed those houses, breaking
down the doors and plundering everything of value. They attacked
the women in a most criminal fashion, after killing those who tried
to defend themselves. They beat the men violently. Then they moved
out of the towns, leaving nothing precious untouched and no honor
undefiled."
"Let them take anything precious with them straight to hell," al
Sayyid Ahmad brooded. "But 'no honor undefiled'... where was
God's mercy? Where was His vengeance?... The flood and Noah
... the nationalist leader Mustafa Kamil.... Imagine! How could a
woman remain under one roof with her husband after that? And what
fault had she committed? How could he countenance it?"
The shaykh struck his knee three times before resuming his account.
His voice had begun to tremble and he lamented, "They set
fire to the villages, pouring gasoline over the poles and thatch foaning
the roofs of the houses. The towns awoke in dreadful terror.
Residents fled from their homes, screaming and wailing as though
they had gone mad. The tongues of flame reached everywhere until
both villages were engulfed."
AI-Sayyid Abroad cried out involuntarily, "O Lord of heaven and
earth!"
The shaykh proceeded: "The soldiers formed a ring arouna.t
burning villages to wait for the wretched inhabitants, who rushed o
in every direction followed by their livestock and dogs and cats, looking
for some way to escape. When they reached the.soldiers, the
',LACS W,L:
*69
or fell upon the men, beating and kicking them. Then they de
latt
.
.
.
tajred the women to strip them of their jewelry and divest them of
their honor. Any woman who resisted was killed. Any husband, father,
or brother who lifted a hand to protect them was gunned down."
Shaykh Mutawalli turned to look at the stunned proprietor. He
stock his hands together and shouted, "And they led the survivors
to a nearby camp, where they forced them to sign a document conmining
their confessions to crimes they had not committed and their
admission that what the English had done to them was an appropriate
punishment. A1-Sayyid Ahmad, this is what happened to ai-Aziziya
and Badrashin. This is an example of the kind of punishment imposed
on us, mercilessly and heartlessly. O God, hear witness, bear wit
A
despondent, oppressive silence reigned while each of the men
wrestled with his own thoughts and images. Then Jamil al-Hamzawi
moaned, "Our Lord exists."
"Yes!" shouted al-Sayyid Ahmad, applauding his statement. Gesturing
in all four directions, he said, "Everywhere!"
Shaykh Mutawalli advised the proprietor, "Tell Fahmy that Shaykh
Mutawalli counsels him to stay away from danger. Tell him, 'Surrender
to God your Lord. He alone is capable of devastating the English
as He has devastated those who disobeyed Him in the past.'"
The shaykh leaned over to grasp his stick. AI-Sayyid Ahmad gestured
to Jamil al-Hamzawi, who brought the present. He put it in the
shaykh's hand and helped him rise. The shaykh shook hands with
both men and recited as he left, "'The [God-fearing] Byzantines have
been defeated in a nearby land, but after their defeat, they will be
victorious' [Qur'an, 30:2-3], and not the friends of the pagans. The
words of God Almighty are true."
t dawn, when darkness was slowly giving birth to light, a servant
from Sugar Street knocked on the door of al-Sayyid Ahmad's house
and informed Amina that Aisha's labor had begun. Amina, who had
been in the oven room, turned her work over to Umm Hanafi and
rushed to the stairway.
For perhaps the first time in the long history of her employment
in the house, Umm Hanafi appeared to be indignant Was it not
obligatory for her to be present when Aisha gave birth? She had
every right to be there, just the same as Amina. Aisha had first
opened her eyes in Umm Hanafi's lap. Every child in the family had
two mothers: Amina and Umm Hanafi. How could she be separated
from her daughter at such a terrifying time?
"Do you remember what it was like when you had your child?"
she asked herself. "The apartment in al-Tambakshiya.... "The master
had been out as usual. She had been alone, although it was after
midnight. Umm Hasaniya had been both a friend and a midwife.
"Where is Umm Hasaniya now? Is she alive today?" Then her son
Hanafi had arrived amid moans of pain. He had departed amid moans
of pain too, when he was still in the cradle. If he had lived, he would
be twenty. "My little mistress will be suffering, while I'm stuck here
preparing food."
Amina's heart was filled with the same apprehensive joy she had
felt when she first prepared to give birth. Here was Aisha getting
ready to deliver her first child and commence life as a mother, as e
herself had begun with Khadija. Thus the life that had sprung from
her would continue on endlessly. She went to her husband t announce
the good news to him in a quiet, courteous way. Sh tried
her best to appear shy and polite, so her ardent desire to rush off to
her daughter would not show. AI-Sayyid Abroad received the news calmly and then ordered her to go without delay. She got dressed
quickly, appreciative of the wonders motherhood could work at times
for a weak woman like herself.
The brothers learned the news when they woke up, shortly after
A
PALACE WALK 47
te tnother's departure. They smiled and exchanged questioning
glances.
,,Aisha's a mother!"
"Isn't that strange?"
,,What's strange about it? Mother was younger than Aisha when
adija was born."
"Has Mother gone to deliver the baby with her own hands?" Ka
al's
question was answered by two smiles..
"This is a warning for me," Yasin observed. "The bitch will have
her baby soon "
"Who do you mean?"
"Zaynab."
"Oh, if Papa ever heard you..."
"Aisha's a mother and I'm a father."
"And I'm an uncle twice over," Fahmy remarked. "You will be
too, Mr. Kamal."
"i'm going to have to stay out of school today to go to Aisha's."
"That's great. Just ask Papa's permission at breakfast, if you're
able."
"Oh! We need more births to keep up with the dent the English
are making in our population."
"If I stay home from school, that won't be a problem. Three
fourths of the students have been on strike for more than a month."
"Tell Papa that. He'll surely be convinced by your argument. Then
hel hit you in the face with a plate of beans."
"Oh! A new baby.... In an hour or two Papa will become a
grandfather and Mama a grandmother. We'll all be uncles. This is a
significant event. How many children are being born at this moment,
do you suppose? And how many people are dying right now? We
need to let Grandmother know."
"I can go to al-Khurunfush and tell her, if I stay home from
school....,,
"We've explained that your school is none of our business. Tell
Papa. He'll welcome your idea."
"Oh! Perhaps Aisha's suffering now. The poor darling Golden
hair and blue eyes won't make the labor pains any lighter."
"May our Lord bring her through it safely. Then we'll drink the
traditional broth and light some candles."
"A boy or a girl?"
"Which do you prefer?"
Naguib Makfou
"A boy, of course."
"Perhaps she'll begin with a girl, like her mother."
"Why not start with a boy, like her father?"
"Ah... by the time school lets out, the baby will already have
arrived. Then I won't get a chance to watch him come out."
"You want to see him being born?"
"Of course.",
"You'd better postpone this desire until it's your own child."
Kamal was the most deeply affected by the nevcs. It preoccupied
his mind, heart, and imagination. Had he not felt that the school
disciplinarian was keeping track of him and watching his every move
to report in detail to his father, he would have been unable to resist
the temptation to go to Sugar Street. He remained in school, but only
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