Children of Gebelaawi (65 page)

come i n to his consulti ng room. He forgot the dignified air h e

p u t on for h i s clients and jumped up to welcome her. He

seated her on a cushion in front of him and h imself sat down

cross-legged, and the world was not wide enough for his joy. He

looked her up and down, but his attention came to rest on her

left eye, almost closed by its swollen and inflamed eyelids. He

said:

- You 've neglected i t, my girl; it was already red the first day

I saw you.

- I thought i t was enough to bathe it i n warm water. Busy

people like me forget.

- It's not right for you to neglect your health, especially if

it's for something as precious as your lovely eyes.

She smiled, touched by the compliment, while he reached

back to a shelf for a mug. From it he took a small package.

- Tie the contents i n a handkerchief, steam i t over boiling

water, then bind i t over your eye, every night till it's as beautiful

as its fellow.

She took the package and brought out her purse, glanci ng

at him inquiringly with her right eye. He laughed.

- Forget it! We're neighbors - and friends.

- But you pay for the tea you drink.

- In fact I'm payi ng your father. What a grand old man !

How I ' d love to know him ! I'm so sorry he's forced to go on

working at his age.

She said proudly:

- But his health is good and he refuses to stay at home. His

age is one of the things that make him sad about life, for he was

one of those who saw the events of Qaasim's time.

Arafa's face lit up with interest.

- Real ly! Was he one of his helpers?

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A raJa

- Oh no; but he tasted the happiness of those days and still

sighs for them.

- I'd like to get to know him and hear him talk.

- Don't get him on to that subject. I 'd rather he forgot

about it, for his own good. He was once in a bar, drin king with

some of his friends, and when he was drunk he stood up and

shouted at the top of his voice that things should go back to

what they were in Qaasim's day. As soon as he got back to the

Alley, he found Harpstrings in front of him and was punched

and hit till he passed out.

Arafa reflected angrily, then looked craftily at Awaatif and

said:

- There's no safety for anybody with these strongmen.

She stole a glance at him, wondering what was behind his

words. She said:

- That's true, there's no safety for anybody.

He hesitated, biting his lips, then said:

- I saw Harpstrings giving you such a look.

She looked down to hide a smile and said:

- Damn him !

- Doesn't it give a girl some pleasure to be admired by a

strongman like him?

- He has four wives.

His heart sank.

- And supposing he made room for another?

- I've hated him ever since he attacked my father, and the

same goes for all those heartless strongmen. They take their

protection money so haughtily you'd think they were doi ng

you a favor.

- Well said, Awaati£1 And well done Qaasim when he

destroyed them ! But they come back like a mysterious disease.

- That's why my father sighs for the days of Qaasi m.

He shook his head i n sudden disillusion.

-And others sigh for the days of Gebel or Rifaa; but the past

won't come back.

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She said with charming i ndignation:

- You say that because you didn 't see Qaasim like my father

did.

- Did you see him?

- My father told me.

- My mother told me. But what's the good of that? It won't

deliver us from strongmen. My mother herself was one of their

victims, and see how they talk about her now she's dead.

- Really?

His expression darkened as when clear water is muddied.

- That's why I'm afraid for you, Awaatif. They threaten

livelihood, honor, love and peace. I tell you, si nce I saw that

brute leering at you I've been convi nced of the need to destroy

them.

She spoke with enthusiasm:

- They say that's the will of our Ancestor.

- And where's our Ancestor?

- In his Great House.

He said solemnly:

- Oh yes, your father talks about Qaasim, and Qaasim

talked about our Ancestor; that's what we hear; but all we see

is Qadri and Saadallah and Fisticuff and Harpstrings and

Yoosuf. We need strength to deliver us from the torment; what

use are memories?

He became aware that the drift of the conversation had

almost spoilt the meeting for him, so he changed his tone:

- The Alley needs strength just as I need you.

She stared at him disapprovingly, and he smiled with a

boldness that seemed natural in his piercing eyes. He said

seriously, to ward off the anger visible in her frown:

- A beau tiful girl, who works so hard she forgets about her

eye till it's swollen, comes to me thinking she needs me and

finds that in fact I'm the one who needs her.

She made to get up.

- It's time I went.

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A raJa

-Don't be annoyed, please. Remember, I haven't said

anything new; you must have noticed my admiration these past

days, for my eyes are always on your cafe. A bachelor like me

can't live alone for ever. His untidy house needs looking after,

and he earns more than he needs; somebody must share with

him.

She went out of the room, and he stood at the end of the hall

to see her off. She seemed unwilling to leave without any

salutation, and said goodbye.

He stayed where he was and sang quietly to himself:

Lovely creature hear my tune:

You're as radiant as the moon.

Fill my cup of joy up soon!

He almost bounced his way to the workshop and found

Hanash engrossed in his work. l-Ie asked:

-What are you doing?

1-Ianash showed him a bottle.

-Full, and firmly sealed. But it must be tested in the desert.

Arafa took it and examined the cork.

-Yes, in the desert; otherwise we'll give ourselves away.

Hanash said anxiously:

-We're beginning to earn a living, and life's smiling on us.

Don't throw away the happiness God has given you.

Hanash was beginning to value life now that it tasted sweeter

to him. Arafa smiled at this thought and looked at him for a

while, then said:

-She was your mother as well as mine.

-Yes, but she begged you not to think of revenge.

-You used to think differently.

- We'd be killed before we could get revenge.

Arafa laughed.

- I won't hide it from you that I stopped thinking of

revenge long ago.

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Hanash's face shone.

- Give me the bottle and we'll empty it, my brother.

But Arafa held it tight, saying:

- No! We'll test it till it's perfect.

Hanash frowned at this teasing. Arafa went on:

- I mean what I say, Hanash, you old snake; believe me, I've

given up the idea of revenge, not because of our mother's

p leading bu t because I'm convinced that the strongmen must

be destroyed irrespective of any revenge.

- Because you love this girl.

Arafa laughed heartily.

- Love for the girl, love for life; call it what you like. Qaasim

was right.

-What has Qaasim to do with you? Qaasi m was carrying out

our Ancestor's wishes.

He pulled a face.

- Who knows? Our Alley tells these stories, but we in this

room are doing something decisive and certain. What security

is there in our life? Fisticuff will come tomorrow to steal our

earnings. If I lift a hand to marry Awaatif, Harpstrings' cudgel

wil l be in my way. I t's the same for everybody, even the beggars.

What spoils my happiness is what spoils the Alley's, and what

wil l make me safe is what will make it safe. I am not a strongman

nor one of Gebelaawi 's men, but I possess wonderful things i n

this room, and they give m e ten times as much power as Gebel,

Rifaa and Qaasi m put together.

He lifted the bottle as if to throw it, then gave it back to

Hanash.

- We'll test it tonight on the jebel. Cheer up and try to get

your enthusiasm back.

He left the workshop, went to the window and squatted on

the sofa, looking across at the makeshift cafe. Night was falling

slowly, and she was crying her wares. She avoided looking at his

window, which showed how much he was on her mind. A smile

p layed faintly on her lips. Arafa smiled, his whole world smiled.

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A raja

He was so pleased that he swore he would comb his hair every

morning. From Gemalia came the noise of people chasi ng a

thief. The drone of the rebec started in the cafe, and the bard

began his evening by chanting:

What is my one-oh?

Trustee Qadri , bravo !

What is my two-oh?

Strongman Saadallah , bravo!

What is my three-oh?

Mighty Fisticuff, bravo!

Arafa was torn merci lessly out of his dream. He said to

himself wearily: 'The stories are beginning again; when wi ll

they end? What's the use of listening to them all night? The

bard si ngs, and the hashish dens wake up. Miserable Alley! '

9 7 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A strange confusion came into Shakroon's life. Sometimes

he would speak in a very loud voice, as if he were making a

speech. People used to say sympathetically: 'Age ! It's just age ! ' .

H e would get very angry for the slightest reason or for no

reason at all; 'Age ! ' they said. He would lapse into silence for

long periods, till circumstances forced him to speak; 'Age ! '

they said again. He would say things that were coun ted as

heresy in the Alley, and people said anxiously: 'It's age ! May we

be spared ! ' . From behind his bars, Arafa often watched him

with tender concern. One day as he was studying him he said

to himself: 'An impressive old man, in spite of his tattered

clothes and his dirtiness ! His face is ravaged; on it is written the

decli ne that the Alley has suffered since Qaasi m's day. It's his

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misfortune to have been a contemporary of Qaasim's and to

h ave enjoyed justice and peace, received his share of the

Trust's revenue and watched the new buildings go up, and

then to have seen all this stop by order of Qadri. He's altogether an u nlucky man whose life has lasted longer than i t should have done.'

Arafa saw Awaatif coming, her face without blemish now

that her eye was cured. He turned his attention to her and

called out:

- Tea please, young lady!

She brought him a cup and he spoke before he took it, to

make sure she stayed:

- Congratulations on your recovery, flower of the Alley!

She smiled.

- Thanks be to God - and to you !

He took the cup, and their fingertips touched. S h e went

away, and her springy step showed her pleasure and acceptance. He should really take the decisive step now, and he did not lack courage, but Harpstrings would make him pay a

thousand times over. It was Shakroon's fault for having placed

his daughter in Harpstrings's path, bu t he was a poor man,

worn out by pushi ngaround his barrow till he had been forced

to stop and open this unlucky cafe.

There was a great commotion in the distance. People

craned their necks i n the direction ofGemalia. Soon a carriage

appeared, full of women singing and clapping. In the midst of

them was a bride returning from the baths. Urchins ran

towards the carriage cheeri ng and hung on to its sides as it

made its way towards Gebel's sector. For a while the air

throbbed with whoops of joy and shouts of congratulation and

whispered obscenities. Shakroon stood up furiously and thundered:

- Hill Hit!

Awaatif hurried over to him and sat him down, rubbing his

back gently. Arafa wondered whether the man was dreaming

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A raja

or hallucinating. What a curse old age was! And if it was like

this, how could Gebelaawi now be living? He watched the old

man and, when he had calmed down, asked him:

- Dear old Shakroon, have you ever seen Gebelaawi?

He answered without looking at him:

- Fool! Don't you know Gebelaawi's been shut up i n his

house since before Gebel's time?

Awaatif smiled, and Arafa laughed and said:

- May God grant you a long life, Shakroon!

- A prayer that meant something when life meant some-

thing.

Awaatif came to take the cup. She whispered:

- Let him be! He hasn't been sleeping at all at night.

- My heart is with you, Awaatif. (Then , quickly before she

could go: ) I 'd like to tal k to him about us.

She raised a warni ng finger and went. He watched some

urchins playing leapfrog. Suddenly Harpstrings appeared,

coming from Qaasim's sector. Arafa drew his head back