Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley (Chapter 24) lyrics

Chapter 24 Why are you late?" her mother asked her, and she answered in an ofihand manner, "Zeinab invited me to her house, so Iwent with her." The woman gave her the good news that they would soon witness the marriage of Mistress Saniya Afifi and that Mistress Saniya would be giving her a new dress in which to attend the wedding celebration. Hamida was delighted and sat listening to her mother's chatter for a long time. Then they had their dinner and repaired to the bedroom. Hamida slept on an old sofa while her mother would put a light cot­ ton mattress down on the floor and lie on that. In a few minutes, the mother had fallen into a deep sleep, the room filling with her snores. Hamida stared long at the closed window, its shutters dappled with light from the cafe. She summoned up her memories of the events of that amazing day, overlooking no act that had been done or left undone, no single word. She relived all of them in her imagination, remember­ ing each adventure so daring she could scarcely believe it had taken place. Despite her present anxiety, she felt a pleasure unalloyed with fear-the pleasure of pride, of boastfulness, of the madness intrinsic to her instincts. At the same time, she didn't forget that she'd said to herself of the man, on her return to the alley, "I wish I'd never met him!" though these words uttered by the tongue found no echo in her heart. The fact was that that day she'd discovered things about herself she'd never before been aware of. It was as though the man had crossed her path in order to expose to view what lay hidden within her and to lay it out before her eyes as though before a polished mirror; despite which, she'd said, "No way!" as she left him, and perhaps she'd had no other choice. But what did that "no" really mean? Didn't it mean staying cooped up in her house waiting for Abbas el-Helw to return? Dear God, there was no room left in her heart for ei-Helw! His footprints had been wiped away; every echo of him had faded. EI-Helw was precisely that awful husband he'd referred to, with all the rest of the ugly, hateful picture of pregnancy, childbirth, s**ling on the sidewalk, and flies that came with him. Truly, unlike other girls of her age, there was within her no wellspring of maternal emotion, and the women of the alley were not to be blamed for accusing her of cruelty and lack of natural feeling; but what did she want? Her heart fluttered and she bit her lips so hard they almost bled. She knew what she wanted and what her soul yearned for. Until that day she had moved precariously in her feelings between light and darkness but today he had rent the veil and made everything clear and unambigu­ ous. The strange thing was that she suffered no significant hesitation, as she lay there unable to sleep, over which path to choose, and the tug-of-war between past and present, or between whatever good there had been in her life and whatever evil might have come her way, lay lightly upon her. The truth is that she had in fact chosen her path without knowing it, and had chosen it in the presence of that man, in his house. Her tongue had thundered with rage but her heart had danced with joy. Her face had turned dark and scowled but her dreams had sighed with relief and exulted. More importantly still, slie had never for a moment hated him. She'd never ever hated him and he was, and remained, her life, her glory, her strength, and her hap­ piness. Nothing about him displeased her, except for the display of confidence when he'd said, "You will return to me." Indeed, she would return, but he would have to pay dearly for that impudent confidence. Her love wasn't worship and submission, it was a battle that burned hot and threw off sparks. She had been stifled too long in this house and this alley, and nothing after today would prevent her from setting forth toward the light, toward status and power. Was there any way to slip out of the noose that the past had placed around her neck other than at the hands of this man who had set her imagination ablaze? She would never rush to him in sub­ mission and obedience, exclaiming, "I am your slave! Do with me as you will!" because she did not know that kind of love. Likewise, she would never launch herself at him like a bullet, crying, "I am your mistress! Bow down before meP' for she had no need of soft love or a spineless lover. She would go to him her heart freighted with hopes and desires, as though to tell him, "I bring you my strength, so match it with yours and let us do battle forever in a felicity beyond description. Then pleasure me with the status and happiness you have dangled before my eyes." It was thanks to him that the path had become clear and no way was she was going to let go of it, even at the cost of her life. At the same time, the night did not pa** without certain thoughts that gave her resolution pause. "What will they say about me tomorrow?" she wondered. The answer came to her in a single word: "VVhorel" Her heart shrank, her mouth went dry, and she remembered how once, in the course of a shouting-match with one of her girl­ friends from the workshop, she'd said to her, accusing her of wander­ ing the streets like a man, "You streetwalker, you who*e!" What then might they say about her? Sorrow and grief overcame her and she twisted and turned where she lay; apprehensive and ill at ease. Nothing in the universe, though, could deflect her from her decision or the path that she'd chosen. She had decided with all the strength that lay deep Within her and she had chosen with everything in her heart, and she would descend to her appointed doom as little impeded by conscience as one who falls into an abyss is impeded by small stones. The current of her thoughts then carried her toward her mother, and she turned toward her, the woman's snoring suddenly filling her ears after she'd long been unconscious of it. She imagined how she'd be tomorrow, after she'd waited for her until she was on the verge of despair. She thought of how the woman had loved her with a true love that had left her heart with no (or only a slight) sense of having been deprived of a mother's love, and how she had loved her too, despite their frequent conflicts and discord. As though fearing the emotions that had now started to course through her, she heaved a loud, vexed sigh and said to herself, "I have no father and no mother. He's all I have in this world." She turned her back on the past and stopped thinking about anything but the morrow and what new reve­ lations it might bring. Now insomnia tormented her. She felt its heat searing her eyelids and brain and yearned for sleep to rescue her from its agony; that she might close her eyes and not open them until the morning light had come. By force of will, she tried to drive from her head the thoughts that swarmed there and for a time she succeeded, but then became aware of the voices rising from Kersha's cafe, which disturbed her greatly, so she took to abusing them and accusing them of driving the sleep from her eyes. Despite herself, she started to listen to them, cursing the speakers. "Sunqur, change the water in the pipe!"-that was the voice of the hashish-smoking lecher Kersha. ***** A little before dawn, she fell into a deep sleep, from which she woke late in the morning. The moment she woke, her thoughts set upon her wholesale, as though they had woken long before her. She felt no hesitation, however, and asked herself in dismay, "When will sunset come?" She told herself that she was henceforth just a pa**ing visitor to the alley, of which, as her beloved had claimed, she was now no more a part than it was of her. She rose as usual, opened the win­ dow, folded her mother's mattress, and placed it in a heap in a corner of the room. Then she swept the apartment, mopped the landing, and ate breakfast on her own, for her mother had left the house to attend to her never-ending business affairs. She went to the kitchen and found lentils in a bowl that her mother had left for her to cook for their day's food and busied herself picking through and washing them. She lit the stove, saying to herself out loud, "This is the last thing I'll cook in this house, and maybe the last thing I'll ever cook! I wonder when I'll next eat lentils." She didn't hate lentils but she knew it was the food of the poor and the distinguishing badge of their cui­ sine. By the same token, all she knew about the food of the rich was that it consisted of meat, meat, and more meat. Her imagination set about savoring thoughts of the food, clothes, and finery she would enjoy in the future and eventually her features relaxed and her face softened into a dreamy expression. At noon, she left the kitchen and went into the bathroom to bathe. Then, slowly and carefully, she combed her hair and made it into a long thick braid that she let down her back, its tail brushing the lower part of her thighs. She put on the best clothes she had, but was upset by the state of her worn-out underclothes, and her bronze-complexioned face flushed as she won­ dered how she could go to him as a bride wearing such things. Face darkening and breast heaving, she made up her mind that she would not yield to him until she had exchanged these threadbare clothes for others that were new and splendid. The idea pleased her and it struck a chord of love and sensuality-she, who could never accept love other than in the fray of combat and obduracy. Finally, she stood at the window casting a last look over her neighborhood, her eyes flitting ceaselessly over its landmarks-the bakery, Kersha's cafe, Uncle Kamel's shop, the barbershop, the warehouse, Master el-Husseini's house-each glance resurrecting memories like a struck match send­ ing off flares. Strangely, she confronted it all toughly and coldly and not one drop of emotion or affection for either the alley or its inhabitants soft­ ened her heart. Any ties of neighborliness or friendship between her and most of the women of the neighborhood, such as Umm Hussein (who had s**led her) and the baker's wife, had been broken. Even Master Radwan el-Husseini's wife had not been spared her tongue when she'd heard one day that the woman had described her as foul­ mouthed; Hamida had bided her time until she saw her one day on her roof hanging out the wash, bounded up to hers (the two roofs being adjacent), gone over to the parapet, and started saying insinuatingly, "Poor old foul-mouthed Hamida, not good enough to a**ociate with the great ladies of the alley, those daughters of pashas!" The woman, however, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, had kept silent. Hamida's eyes lingered on the warehouse and she thought of how Master Salim•Eiwan had asked for her hand and how, for a day and a bit, she'd been drunk on dreams of wealth. How she'd burned with grief when the man was snatched from her hands! On the other hand, what a difference there could be between one man and anoth­ er! If Master Salim Elwan had stirred, by virtue of his wealth, one part of her heart, the other had moved the whole of it so much he'd been able to pluck it out by the roots. Her eyes returned to the bar­ bershop and she thought of Abbas ei-Helw, and wondered what might happen if he were to come back one day and find no trace of her. With a heart of stone, she recalled his final farewell on the stair­ way and wondered how she could have given him her lips to kiss. Then she turned her back on the window and went over to the couch, full of resolve and determination. ****** Rea**ured, he said, "So let's go to Azhar Street. No one will see us there." Walking apart, they set off down Azhar Street in lugubrious silence, Hamida aware that she had proclaimed her final surrender with those words. They reached Queen Farida Square without break­ ing their silence. No longer knowing where they were headed, she halted. A moment later she heard him calling a taxi. The vehicle stopped, he opened the door for her, and, with the lifting of her foot to enter, she crossed the line between two lives. As soon as the taxi set off with them, he said in a quavering voice and with exquisite sk**, "God alone knows the tortures I've been through, Hamida. I didn't get a single hour of sleep. You don't know, my dearest, what love is. Today, though, I'm happy. In fact, I'm nearly crazy with joy. Dear God, can I really believe my eyes? Thank you, my darling, thank you. I swear I will make such rivers of happiness flow beneath your feet that you'll think you're in Paradise. How lovely diamonds will look around that neck" (and he touched her neck gently). "How wonderful gold will look on this arm" (and he kissed her arm). "How enchanting the lipstick will look on these lips" (and he bent his head to kiss her lips but she avoided him and he bussed her cheek instead, exclaiming, "Wbat a bewitching tease you are!"). He rested a moment and then continued, a smile on his lips, "Bid farewell now to the days of hardship. From now on, life will never again look on. you with a frown. Even your breasts will be carried for you by a silken support!" She was content to listen to his words without any display of rebellion or exasperation, though her cheeks did flush, and her body surrendered to the careering vehicle that took her fleeing from every­ thing in her past. The taxi stopped in front of the building that had now become her home and they got out and went quickly to the apartment, which rang, as she had noticed the day before, with voices rising from behind doors. They entered the wonderful room and he said, laugh­ ing, "Take your milaya off so we can burn it together." Blushing, she murmured, "I didn't bring my clothes," and he cried in delight, "You did well! We want nothing from the past." He sat her down on a seat and started pacing back and forth about the room. Then he made for an elegant doorway to the right of the tall mirror and pushed it open to reveal a luxuriously appointed bedchamber. ''Our room!'' he said, as he did so. She, however, exclaimed rapidly and angrily, "Never. I shall sleep here." He fixed her with a piercing look, then said in tones indicative of surrender, "No. You sleep inside and I'll sleep here." She had made up her mind that she wasn't going to be taken like an animal and wouldn't give in before her urge to be stubborn and disdainful had been satisfied-and it appeared that he was too cun­ ning not to be aware of this, for he hid a mocking smile and made a show of compliance and surrender. Then he told her, with delight and pride, "Yesterday, my dearest, you called me a pimp. Let me now introduce myself to you for what I really am: your lover is the princi­ pal of a school, where, with time, you will learn everything."