Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley (Chapter 19) lyrics

Chapter 19 One morning the alley awoke to clamor and commotion. Its inhabitants found men erecting a large tent on a piece of waste ground off Boxmakers Street opposite. Alarmed, Uncle Kamel, who thought it must be a funeral tent, exclaimed in his high voice, "Verily we are from God and to Him we return! 0 Lord, 0 Sustainer, 0 Knower of All Things!" and he called to a boy who was walking down the street and asked him who had pa**ed away. The boy, though, laughed and told him, "It's not for a funeral, it's for an election rally!" Uncle Kamel shook his head and muttered, "Saad and Adly again!" The man knew nothing whatsoever about the world of politics, which consisted for him entirely of a couple of names he'd learned by heart without understanding what they stood for. True, he'd hung a large picture of Moustafa Nahhas in a prominent position in his shop but that was because Abbas el-Helw had bought two pictures of the Leader one day and put one of them up in the salon and given the other to his friend; he could see nothing wrong with putting it up, especially as he knew that the same picture and others like it were a tradition in shops, and that in the taamiya shop on Boxmakers Street there were pictures of Saad Zaghloul and Moustafa ei-Nahhas and that Boss Kersha's cafe had a picture of Khedive Abbas. He stared with distaste at the laborers as they went about their work and looked forward to an exhausting and noisy day. Piece by piece, the tent came into being a,s the poles were put up, the ropes tied, the cloth hung, sand strewn on the ground, and chairs set out in rows on either side of a narrow aisle leading to a stage that had been erected high up inside. Loudspeakers were installed on the corners of the streets between the Mosque of ei-Hussein and Ghouriya Street. Better still was the fact that the entrance to the tent was left without barrier or awning, signaling to the people of the alley the good news that they would be able to participate in the celebration from their houses. A large picture of the prime minister was hung over the stage with, attached to it at the bottom, a picture of the candidate, Ibrahim Farhat, who was known to most of the inhabitants of the quarter as a merchant with premises in the copper market. Young men went about with posters that they stuck on the walls and on which the following lines were written in bright colors: Vote for Ibrahim Farhat, your noble member, Whose principals are those rif Saad himself! The days if tyranny and poverty are done for. Come are the days if justice and wealth! They tried to stick a poster on the wall of Uncle Kamel's shop but the man, on whom the absence of Abbas el-Helw had had a very bad effect, confronted them angrily, saying, "Not here, friends. It'll bring bad luck and put off the customers." "On the contrary," one of the young men told him laughingly. "It'll bring you customers, and if the candidate sees it today, he'll buy your whole stock of basbousa and give you twice the price, with a kiss on top!" By midday the work was done and the place had reverted to its usual quiet and so it remained until the late afternoon, when Master Ibrahim Farhat arrived in a ring of hangers-on to inspect things for himself. The man wasn't stingy in his spending, but he was still a mer­ chant and as such given to watching the details of his expenditures so that no one could put anything over on him. Fat and short, he strutted I at the forefront in his mande and caftan, looking around with his round brown face and naive eyes. His gait expressed pride and confidence, his eyes good heartedness and naivete, and overall he gave the impression of a man whose belly was of far greater significance than his head. r His appearance attracted great interest in the alley and surrounding areas because the people there thought of him as "the groom" of the upcoming party and hoped that his "wedding procession" would bring them many good things--especially as they hadn't yet recovered from the shock that had befallen them in the last elections, when the candidate for the constituency had won by default. He was followed by groups of boys walking behind a man dressed in European clothes who shouted loud slogans and cried out in a voice like thunder, "Who is our member?" to which the boys would reply with a single voice, "Ibrahim Farhat!" Then the man would shout again, "Who's the local boy?" and they would exclaim, "Ibrahim Farhat!" and so it continued, until the whole street had filled with them, many of them slipping unnoticed into the tent. The candidate now started repeating the slogans himself, saluting the crowds by raising his hands to his head, and then made his way toward the alley followed by his claque, most of whom were weightlifters from the Darrasa Sporting Club. Approaching the elderly barber Who had replaced el-Helw, he stuck out his hand at him and said, "Peace be upon you, neighbor." The man bent over it in embarra**ed welcome. Then he turned from him to Uncle Kamel, saying, "Don't trouble yourself to get up. By el-Hussein, please stay where you are! How are you? God is great! God is great! This is exceptional basbousa and tonight everyone shall know how good it is" and then moved forward saluting everyone he met until he reached Boss Kersha's cafe, where he greeted the Boss and sat down, inviting his companions to do the same. Many had preceded him to the cafe even Giada the Baker and Zeita the Cripple-maker. The candidate ran his eyes over the company with pleasure and then said, addressing Boss Kersha, "Tea for everyone!" With a smile of acknowledgment for the words of thanks sprin­ kled upon him from all sides, he turned to the cafe owner and said, "I'd be grateful if the cafe could provide the tent with whatever orders may be requested," to which Boss Kersha replied, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, '?\t your service, master." The lack of enthusiasm did not escape the candidate, who said to him gendy, ' e're all sons of the same quarter, and all of us are brothers." The fact was that Master Ibrahim Farhat had come to the cafe expressly to conciliate Boss Kersha. He had invited him over a few days previously in order to bring him into his camp and thns guarantee his vote and that of the other cafe owners and their workers, who took their lead from him, and he'd offered him fifteen pounds as a down payment against future services, but Boss Kersha had refused to touch the money, protesting that he was no less important than el-Fawwal, owner of the Darrasa cafe, who was rumored to have gotten twenty. Farhat had kept on at him until he'd persuaded him to accept the sum, promising him more later, and the two had parted, Master Ibrahim worrying that Boss Kersha might have turned against him. In fact, Boss Kersha was still angry at what he called this 'Johnny-come-lately of a politician" and harbored the worst intentions toward him, should he not take the initiative to correct his error. Despite his normal lethargy, Boss Kersha came alive during election season. As a youth, he had gained a notoriety in the world of politics equal to his notoriety in other fields. He had taken an active, violent part in the 1919 Revolution, the great fire that destroyed the Jewish cigarette company on el-Hussein Square being attributed to him, and he was a hero of the violent battles that took place between the revolutionaries on the one side and the Armenians and j**s on the other. When that bloody uprising died down, he discovered in the new electoral battles a new, albeit restricted, outlet for his energy and enthusiasm. He exerted well-appreciated efforts in the 1924 elections and resisted heroically the enticements of the 1925 elections, even though it was said of him at the time that he'd accepted a bribe from the govern­ ment's candidate and then given his vote to the Wafd's. In the Sidqi elections, he'd tried to pull the same trick, taking the money and stay­ ing away from the elections, but on the day of battle the eyes of the government were upon him and he was loaded along with others onto a trnck that took them to the voting center, causing him to break faith, against his will and for the first time, with the Wafd. The last year of his career in politics was 1936. Mter that, he divorced them to marry commerce, looking at subsequent elections as he would any other profitable market and supporting whoever paid best. The excuse that he cited for his desertion was the corruption that was starting_ to effect political life, for, as he said, "If the goal of the opposing parties in politics is money, what's wrong with the poor voters making it theirs too?" In addition, he had himself fallen victim to corruption and stupe­ faction and become the plaything of his lusts, nothing remaining of his sometime revolutionary spirit but vague memories to which his imagi­ nation occasionally returned and which he would then make much of, boasting of them as he sat with his companions around the brazier. In his heart, though, he had rejected all values of decent living and no longer gave a hoot for anything but "getting high" and "getting laid"; everything else could, as he put it, "get lost." He no longer hated any one, not the Jews, nor the Armenians, nor even the British themselves, and he no longer loved anyone either. It was indeed, then, a wonder­ ful thing that his enthusiasm had suddeuly revived during the current war, when he had become a pa**ionate supporter of the Germans, for­ ever asking, especially at this period, about the situation of Hitler: was it true that he was now threatened, and would it not be the proper thing for the Russians to hurry up and show some gratitude for the separate peace they'd been offered? His admiration for Hitler consisted, how­ ever, in no more than an attraction to the latter's reputation for strength and brutality, Boss Kersha regarding him as the world's top bully, for whom he wished victory, just as he long had for Antara and Abu Zeid. Nevertheless, he maintained a significant role in the area of elections as leader of the cafe owners who made up his nightly fireside circle, as well as of the workers, waiters, and followers who belonged to them-hence Master Ibrahim Farhat's concern to placate him and his sacrifice of a whole hour of his precious time to sit in his cafe in the hope of gaining his favor and making up. Master Ibrahim was stealing glances at Boss Kersha. Then he bent over his ear and asked him in a quiet voice, ''Happy now, Boss Kersha?" and the other's lip drooped in a smile and he replied, with the same distinct reserve, "Praise God. What would we do without you, Master?'' "I'll compensate you well for what you didn't get," the other then whispered in his ear. As his gaze pa**ed over the faces of those present, Master Ibrahim felt rea**ured and he said, gently and winningly, "God willing, you won't let us down,'' the voices responding as one, "God forbid, Master Farhat. You're our local boy." The man smiled contentedly and started spouting: ':As you well know, I am an Independent but I remain faith­ ful to the true principles of Saad Zaghloul. What use have the parties been to us? Haven't you heard them bickering? They're as bad as ..." (he was about to say "the people who live in the back streets" but remembered that he was addressing some of those same people so caught himself and said) "... never mind examples. I chose to be an Independent so that nothing could stop me from telling the truth and I'd never be slave to a minister or a party leader. If God grants us suc­ cess, I shall state in parliament that I speak in the name of the people of Midaq Alley, Ghouriya Street, and Boxmakers Street. The time for chatter and hypocrisy is over. You face an age in which nothing will be able to distract from the urgent issues that concern you, such as the rise in the price of popular fabrics, sugar, kerosene, and oil, the demand for unadulterated bread, and a reduction in the price of meat.'' With intense concern, someone asked, "Will these basics really be widely available soon?" With confidence and certainty, the man declared, "Absolutely. This is what makes the present upheaval so different. Only yesterday, I was visiting the prime minister ..." (then he remembered he'd said he was an Independent, so he changed tack and resumed) "... who was receiving candidates of all stripes, and he told us that his era would be one of clothes and food for all." He swallowed and continued, "You will witness wonders, and don't forget that I shall show my appreciation if I win." Doctor Bushi asked him, "Would that appreciation be after the election results are announced?'' Somewhat anxiously, Master Ibrahim turned toward him and said, "And before they're announced too." Sheikh Darwish now emerged from his silent stupor and said, "Like a wedding settlement, there's the advance payment and then there's the dissolution payment-for all but you, Mistress of Mistresses, for your love is of the spirit, divine." Master Ibrahim turned to the sheikh in alarm, but the moment his eyes took in his garb (gallabiya, necktie, and gold eyegla**es) he real­ ized that he was in the presence of a Righteous Friend of God and a smile traced itself on his round face as he responded courteously, "Wel­ come, Master Sheikh!" Sheikh Darwish, however, uttered not a word in reply and sank back into his lethargy. One of the candidate's followers now called out loudly, "All you want is yours. So we swear on God's Book and we will divorce our wives if it is not so!" to which more than one voice respondtd, "Yours to commandP' Master Ibrahim then set about asking those present if they had vot­ ers' cards. When he came to Uncle Kamel, the latter replied, "I don't have a card and I've never taken part in an election." "Where were you born?" the candidate asked him. Unconcerned, Uncle Kamel said, "I don't know." Everyone exploded in laughter, in which Master Ibrahim joined, murmuring at the same time, however, and without despairing, "It's a simple matter. I'll fix it with the precinct sheikh." A boy wearing a gallabiya and carrying a batch of flyers now arrived and, seizing the opportunity of a full cafe, proceeded to dis­ tribute these to the patrons. Many a**umed that they were election posters and accepted them happily as a compliment to the esteemed candidate. Master Ibrahim took one and read it out: Does your marital lift lack a certain something? Use Santouri's Amber! Santouri's Amber Formulated scientifically without harmfol ingredients under Ministry of Health License 128. Revitalizing and invigorating! Restores youth to the aged in 50 minutes! Directions fir Use One grain in a cup of well sweetened tea and you will find yourself energized. One quarter of the box taken at one go is sl%onger than any intoxicant and produces an dfoct on the tendons equivalent to an ei£ctric shock. Order a sample packet from the distributor of this flyer. Price 30 milliemes (a snip!). Your happiness fir 30 milliemes! Our store stands ready to listen to the comments of the public. The place erupted in laughter once more and the candidate was some­ what disconcerted, but one of his claque took it upon himself to divert attention by crying, "It's a good omep.l" and then bent over his ear and whispered, "Let's move on. We've lots of other quarters to cover." The man rose, saying, "We bid you farewell and shall meet with you again soon, God willing. May God realize our hopes!" As he prepared to leave the cafe, he fixed Sheikh Darwish with a courteous look and said, "Master, your blessing!" to which Sheikh Darwish responded, opening his arms wide, "God ruin your house!" By the time the sun had set, the tent was filled to overflowing. Word went round that a major politician was about to make an important speech and that poets and balladeers were going to com­ pete on stage, and before long a Qur'an reciter mounted the latter and recited a few pa**ages from the Wise Narration. He was followed by a band of broken down old musicians in shabby clothes who played the national anthem, the broadcasting of their music over the loudspeakers having noticeable impact in terms of attracting boys and youths from the alleys and lanes, who crammed into the tent until it was filled to bursting. The slogans and clamor grew louder and the national anthem came to a close without the band leaving their places, giving the impression that the speechmakers were about to deliver their speeches to music. Pleasurable anticipation followed when someone banged on the floor of the stage and silence fell over the jam-packed throng. A well-known performer of comic songs, wearing traditional dress, began to sing, the eager crowd, as soon as it set eyes on him, going into transports of pleasure and starting to cheer and clap. The performer gave a tip-top performance, and then a half-naked woman, who kept calling out "Master Ibrahim Farhat, a thousand times over! Master Ibrahim Farhat, a thousand times over!" danced and the man in charge of the loudspeakers shouted into the microphone, "Master Ibrahim Farhat is the best MP! Bahloul's loudspeakers are the best loudspeakers!" Songs combined with dancing, which combined with slogans, and the whole quarter turned into a fairground. Returning from her usual outing, Hamida found the party in full swing. Like the rest of the people of the alley, she had a**umed that it would be all slogans and speeches in "posh language," as she put it, but as soon as she saw the joyful scene, she was overcome with pleasure and looked right and left for a place from which she could observe the orgy of singing and dancing, the like of which she had rarely seen. Pushing her way with difficulty through the boys and girls, she reached the entry to the alley and approached the wall of the barbershop, where she took up a position on top of a stone set in the dirt close to the wall and looked out, with interest and pleasure, into the tent. Boys and girls hemmed her in on all sides and there were many women, either holding on to their children's hands or carrying them on their shoulders. Songs mixed with slogans, speeches with shouting, laughter with lament, and the riveting scene grabbed her and pulled her into it, her bewitching eyes gleaming with pleasure and her mouth opening to reveal a pearly smile. She was wrapped in her milaya, so that all that could be seen of her was her bronze complexion, her lower legs, and the front part of her raven-black hair, revealed where her milaya had slipped back. Her heart danced with pleasure, all her senses came alive, and her blood ran hot and hard. The comic-song performer filled her with an elation she had never before experienced and which even the bitter, gnawing emotion that she felt toward the dancer could not spoil. Absorbed in what she was watching and giving no thought to the coming of night, she eventually became aware of something, like a call to her senses or the sensation we feel when we're being watched, tugging her eyes to the left. In spite of herself, she obeyed the call and turned away from the performer, moving her head in that direction, and her eyes met two others, which exam,ined her with insolent voracity. Her eyes rested on these for a second, then returned to their original object. Now, however, she was no longer capable of immersing herself in the scene as she had before. Her senses still alert to those implacable eyes, her own started shifting left again, as doubt and anxiety took hold of her. She turned again and encountered the eyes, which continued to scrutinize her-with the same impudence and which now, in addition, betrayed a strange smile. Unable to maintain her poise and filled with annoyance, she turned her head back again. The strange smile annoyed her because it spoke of an infinite confidence and provocativeness and in so doing touched a raw and explosive nerve in her fierce and mettlesome soul, stirring up within her an overweening desire to bury her fingernails in some­ thing-preferably the man's neck. She decided to ignore him, despite her aversion to such pa**ive forms of combat, but retained a strong awareness of his eyes. He had ruined her pleasure and that mischie­ vous spirit to which she could submit with such insane speed took hold of her. The owner of the eyes, as though feeling that he had not yet done enough or indifferent to the fire that he had ignited, made his way to a point in the line of sight between her and the tent on which she was focusing, placing himself deliberately (there could be no doubt about it) in her way, and stood there, his back toward her. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders, bare-headed, had thick hair, and was wearing a suit of a greenish shade. With his elegant appear­ ance and clothes, he looked out of place in such an environment, and her annoyance and savagery were soon replaced by astonishment. He was a real effendi, and how often did one of those turn up in the alley? She wondered whether he would give her a second look in the midst of such a crowd. Nothing could stop him, though, and he made no bones about turning round and fixing her with an imperious gaze. His face was thin and oval, the eyes almond-color d, the brows thick, and the look in his eyes bespoke both intelligence and insolence. Still not sated by his public scrutiny, he looked directly at her and allowed his gaze to climb from her workaday slippers to her hair, so that she was driven without realizing to look into his eyes, as though to gauge the effect that the inspection had had on him. Their eyes met and in his there appeared that insolent, provocative look so indicative of the self-confidence, defiance, and triumphalism in which he reveled. She forgot her astonishment, and her annoyance, anger, and desire for combat returned. Her blood boiled and she readied herself to curse him out publicly-readied herself more than once, but in the end did not, and found herself overcome with anxiety and confusion. Fed up with standing there, she got down off the stone and pushed her way quickly into the alley, walking the length of it in seconds. As she crossed the doorstep of her house, she felt a desire to turn around, but had a vision of him standing as he had before, staring insolently and confidently, his smile yet more compromising than before, so she denied her urge and went up the stairs in a hurry, reproaching herself for having been too easy on him and pa**ing up the opportunity to teach him a lesson. She went to the bedroom and took off her milaya, then moved over to the closed window and looked out onto the street through the shutters. Her eyes searched for him persistently till they caught sight of him at the entrance to the alley. He was watching with interest the windows that gave onto it, the confident and defiant look now vanished from his eyes, to be replaced by one of attentiveness and curiosity. His new look pleased her and her annoyance dissipated and she remained where she was, enjoying his confusion and taking revenge onhim for the anger and indignation he'd made her feel. A real effendi, there could be no doubt of that, and he must have found her attractive, or why else would he show such interest? The look in his eyes, though, God damn them, called for a violent response. What did he have to make him so sure of himself? Did he think he was some kind of hero, or prince? Her gratification thus combined with exasperation and she found herself feeling an obscure desire to do something violent and challenging. He, though, had started to despair of the windows and grown tired of searching for her, and she feared that he might lose his curiosity and disappear into the crowd. She hesitated a moment, then turned the knob on the shutter and opened the two leaves so as to make a gap, and stood at the open space as though looking out over the celebration. He had his back to the alley but she was certain he would start searching, studying, and peering once more, and he did, turning his head again and looking from one window to another until they noticed the gap and his face lit up. He stood there for a few minutes as though unsure, then ... then his inso­ lent smile traced itself once more on his lips and his look of pride and braggadocio came back in its ugliest form and she realized that she had unknowingly committed an unforgivable error by allowing herself to be seen. She flew into a rage, his smile a challenge summoning to battle. She found in those eyes something that she had found nowhere before, reading them clearly by the light of her own furious soul and its thirst for combat. The man gave the impression that nothing could put him in his place, and he proceeded up the alley with such firm steps that she imagined he must be making for her house. However, he turned into Kersha's cafe, still reconnoitering her shadow behind the shutters, and selected the place between Boss Kersha and Sheikh Darwish's settle where Abbas el-Helw had used to sit in bygone days. By choosing to sit where he did, he was taking a bold step, but she did not retreat; she held her ground, her eyes trained on the stage (even though she scarcely knew what was taking place there), and aware of his gaze being directed toward her every now and then, in intermittent bursts, like an electric flashlight. The man never left his place until the party came to an end and she had closed the window. And, during all the nights and years that followed, Hamida never forgot that night.