Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley (Chapter 29) lyrics

Chapter 29 The moment Master Salim Elwan signed the contract spread out before him on the table, the khawaga sitting opposite him shook his hand and told him, "Congratulations, Salim Bey. You've made a fortune." Master Salim's eyes fastened on the khawaga as he signed and then moved on and lost themselves in the distances beyond the door of the warehouse. A profitable deal. Just by getting rid of the stock of tea that the khawaga had bought at wholesale prices he had made a large profit and saved himself worry. which was particularly impor­ tant as his health could no longer take the terrifying ups and downs of the black market. At the same time, however, he told himself in dudg­ eon, "The deal's profitable but cursed. Everything in my life is cursed." Truly, an emaciated ghost was all that was left of the old Master Salim, and it was his nerves that were having the most debilitating effect on him. They seemed to have decided to do away with him, forcing him to think about d**h so constantly that it had become his sole preoccupa­ tion. He wasn't, at base, weak in his faith, or a quaking coward, but his nervous collapse had made him forget its principles and had curbed his courage. He could not stop thinking about the moments just before d**h, a sip from whose bitter cup he had indeed tasted during his sickness, and recalling how these had affected those of his relatives whose d**hs he had attended-the painful, defeated recumbency, the rising and falling of the chest, the intermittent rattling in the throat, the fading of the eyes' light, and, in the midst of all that, life's retreat from the depths and the extremities and the spirit's departure from the body. Could all that take place without discomfort? People went insane if their nails were pulled out, so how would it be when their spirits and lives were extracted? Only the dying man himself could know what that pain really felt like, for all we could perceive were the outward effects of the d**h process. Its resonance within the soul and its echoes in the body remained the dead man's secret that he held pent up in his chest and that were buried with his corpse, forming his last, most appalling, and ugliest memory of the sufferings of this world. Could the dead speak of how they had died, no one would enjoy a moment of unclouded serenity as long as he lived and people would die of terror before their appointed hour could claim them. Often he wished that God would enter his name among that happy band who were to die of a heart attack. How fortunate were those, among all the living and the dead! They died while talking or eating, or as they stood up or sat down, as though playing a trick on d**h by waiting for a moment when it was­ n't watching and then slipping quietly through the door to eternity. He, though, had pretty much abandoned any hope of such an end, given that his father, and before him his grandfather, had provided examples of exactly the sort of d**h that his enfeebled heart was terrified would fall to his lot-a long dying, lasting half a day, and a final struggle fero­ cious enough to turn a young man's hair white. Who would have thought that Master Salim Elwan that strong and fortunate man-would fall prey to such thoughts and fears? So, however, it was, and the moment of d**h wasn't even his only fear. His fevered thoughts were also tugged toward the slumber that followed d**h, and he pondered long upon it, philosophizing in his own way. Imagination, and the culture that he had inherited from preceding gen­ erations, made him believe that some degree of consciousness would remain with him after d**h. Didn't the living say that the dead man's eyes behold the members of his family that gaze upon him? Thus he convinced himself that he would behold d**h openly and be aware of the eternal end as it subsumed him, and that his senses would be aware of the darkness of the grave, its loneliness and strangeness, its skeletons and bones and shrouds; nay, more-they would b!= aware of its narrow­ ness and constriction and of whatever yearnings, tenderness, and love for the world and its people might still linger within the soul. All of this he imagined with dread-filled heart and sweating brow, not unmindful either of all that lay beyond by way of resurrection, judgment, and tor­ ment. Ah, how wide the chasm between d**h and Paradise! He clung, therefore, with the strength of fear and despair, to the hem of life's skirts, although it was a life devoid of anything that might make it bearable in that he no longer had a role left to play on its stage other than that of checking accounts and making deals. From the moment of his recovery, he had been a**iduous in consulting his doctor, who had confirmed that he had indeed been cured of the stroke and its effects but urged him to caution, care, and moderation. On several occasions, he complained to him of his insomnia and his anxieties and the doctor advised him to consult a specialist, following which he started frequenting nerve specialists, heart specialists, chest specialists, and head specialists, the door of sickness opening to reveal to him a world of germs and hidden symptoms no more limited in extent or less crowded with inhabitants than our own. Amazingly, though he had formerly had no faith in medicine or physicians, in his agitated state he came to do so, this being itself perhaps a symptom of the very disease that a**ailed his nerves. His life hardly extended beyond the hell of these anxieties and his hours of work, and those brief intervals of peace when his soul was untroubled and free of the promptings of his fears he seemed to devote to ruining his relations with those around him, so that when he was not at war with himself he was at war with other people. The workers at the warehouse realized from the start that their master had been transformed into a weird and abominable person. The agent had left, after a quarter of a century of service, and the workers who remained did so unwillingly, apprehensively, and with distaste. The inhabitants of the alley characterized him as being "half sane and half mad," Husniya the Baker's Wife saying with a relish she made no attempt to conceal, "It was that pan of cracked wheat, God protect us all!" On one occasion, Uncle Kamel had said to him, with the best of intentions, 'Won't you let me make you, Master Salim, a special tray of basbousa to get you back your strength, God willing?" but Master Salim had lost his temper and screamed at him, "Out of my way, you crow! Have you gone crazy or are you totally blind? Only animals like you have stomachs that keep working right up to the gra ... ," after which Uncle Kamel stopped having anything to do with him, for good or evil. His wife, however, remained an easy target for his fury and vexa­ tion and he never stopped blaming her supposed envy of him for all that had befallen his body and mind. He would rebuke her, saying, "You've taken your spleen out on my health and strength so much that I've broken down before your eyes, so congratulations-you must be feeling great, you viper!" So poor was his opinion of her that one day he conceived the suspicion that someone must have told her of his decision to marry Hamida, since affairs of that sort become, unbe­ knownst to the party involved, the object of many eyes, and many tongues take it upon themselves to bruit them abroad and ensure that they reach the other party. That being the case, it might well, he thought, have led the woman to take revenge by casting on him a spell, which could have put paid to his physical and mental health. Being in no state to weigh rationally any thoughts that might occur to him or to fathom them with the plumb line of wisdom, suspicions quickly turned to certainty and he would erupt in fury; inflate with exasperation, and leap to take revenge. He treated her abominably, making it his habit to curse at her and abuse her. She, however, accepted his cruelty with submission, patience, and politeness. His excesses thus did him no good and he continued to burn with a desire to make her angry, to force her to abandon her silence and patience and give herself over to complaint, reproach, and the shedding of tears. Once he told her, harshly and contemptuously, "I'm sick of your com­ pany and I won't pretend to you that I'm not taking steps to marry again and try my luck a second time." The woman believed him, the solid structure of her equanimity developed a crack, and she fled to her sons, to whom she revealed all the verbal and physical abuse that she had met with at his hands. The situation horrified them, they were taken brutally aback, and they decided that their father was sliding toward an abyss that could only have terrible consequences; so they visited him one day and proposed to him that, as a way of preserving his health, he dis­ solve his business and devote himself to rest and looking after his health. The man could see through their proposal to their fears, which were nothing new to him, and he exploded in anger, berating them with a coarseness that they had never before witnessed and telling them furi­ ously, "My life is my property to do with as I will, and I shall go on work­ ing for as long as I want to, so spare me your tendentious counsel." Laughing scornfully and turning on them his worn-out eyes, he continued, "Didn't your mother tell you I've decided to marry again? It's the truth. Your mother's been trying to k** me, so I shall take refuge with some woman who has an ounce of mercy, and if your number increases as a result of this marriage, my fortune's still big enough to take care of the whole greedy pack of you." He also warned them that he would henceforth give them little and that each would have to depend on his own resources to make his way in life. ':As you can see," he said angrily, "I can barely taste any­ thing but the bitterness of my medications, so it's not right that others should get pleasure out of my money." "How," responded the eldest, "can you talk to us so harshly, when we are your loving sons?" to which Master Salim replied mockingly, ''You aren't. You're your mother's sons." And he made good on his threat and stopped contributing to the expenses of his sons' households. He also banned from the kitchen of his villa the sumptuous dishes for which it was once famous and that had been forbidden to him since he had fallen ill, so that everyone, and above all his wife, should share in what was imposed upon him. Similarly, once he'd discovered that it was the arrow that could pierce the patience and equanimity behind which his wife had taken refuge, he took to playing the card of his supposed marriage. His sons there­ fore consulted one another. These dire straits found them in one mind as to the pain they felt on their father's behalf and their honest feelings for him in his time of trial. The eldest said, "Let us leave him be until the inevitable occurs." The lawyer, however, said, correcting him firmly, "Unless he really has taken steps to get married, in which case any pre­ cautions we may take, no matter how extreme, will be less painful than leaving him exposed to the machinations of the avaricious." Hamida's disappearance had been an appalling event in Master Salim's life, and even though he no longer thought about her after his illness and the current of his feelings had left her behind, the news stirred his concern and alarm and he followed anxiously the search that was made for her. When he caught wind of the rumor that she'd fled with an unknown man, he was greatly upset and spent the rest of the day in a vile temper, no one daring to go near him. He returned to his house at sunset, his nerves in tatters, and was afllicted by a vio­ lent headache that kept him awake until just before dawn. He felt enormous resentment toward the runaway girl and his heart was con­ sumed with malice and anger. He would have liked to see her hang­ ing one day from the gallows with protruding tongue and bulging eyes, but when he heard of the return of Abbas el-Helw from Tell el-Kebir, his dismay abated somewhat, for no clear reason, and he was seized by an irresistible urge to invite the young man to come and see him. When he did so, he treated him as a friend, talked to him win­ ningly, and asked him what sort of a living he was making, avoiding any mention of the girl. The young man, pleased at the man's kindly interest, thanked him for his solicitude and talked with trusting open­ ness, while Master Salim stole looks at him from his sunken eyes. In the first days after Hamida's flight, an event occurred which, while perhaps insignificant in and of itself, became one of those by which Midaq Alley marks the progress of its history Master Salim Elwan was on his way to the warehouse one forenoon when he ran into Sheikh Darwish, who was going about some errand. In his early days, Master Salim had been one of those who loved Sheikh Darwish and had often taken it upon himself to provide him with charity and gifts. During his illness, however, he had neglected him as though he no longer existed for him. When they met, close to the door of the warehouse, Sheikh Darwish exclaimed, as though talking to himself, "Hamida)s disappeared." Master Salim blanched, thinking the man was implicating him, and was unable to prevent himself from yelling, "What have I got to do with her?" Sheikh Darwish, however, went on to say, ':And she didn't just disappear, she fled, and she didn't just flee, she fled with a man, which is what in English they call elopement, spelled e- ..." Before the man could finish, however, Master Salim screamed at him, "It's an ill-omened day when the first thing I see is your face, you madman! Get out of my sight, God damn you!" Sheikh Darwish stopped moving, as though he'd been nailed to the ground, and a look like that of a terrified child threatened with a stick appeared in his eyes. Then he burst into tears. Master Salim continued on his way, leaving Sheikh Darwish where he was, weeping. As his voice grew louder, it turned into more of a scream and his wailing finally brought Boss Kersha, Uncle Kamel, and the elderly barber rushing to him to find out what was wrong. They led him to the cafe, where they sat him down on his bench, consoling and com­ forting him. Boss Kersha ordered him a gla** of water and Uncle Kamel patted him on the shoulder, saying sorrowfully, "Say, 'God is One,' Sheikh Darwish! God save us ... the tears of the sheikh bode no good. Your favor, 0 God!" The sheikh's weeping and crying, however, grew yet louder. His breathing became labored, his limbs trembled, he closed his lips in a tight grimace, and he started tugging violently at his necktie and striking the ground with his wooden pattens. Windows opened and heads looked out in astonishment and alarm. Husniya the Baker's Wife came and the sound of his sobbing made its way to the ears of Master Salim in the warehouse, who listened to it in anger and exas­ peration, growing ever angrier as it went on and asking himself if the man would ever stop wailing. He tried in vain to distract himself from the noise, which, however, seemed bent on pursuing and hara**ing him till the whole world seemed to be weeping and wailing. He silenced his anger and forced himself to be calm, but the weeping, resonating with distress and pain, continued to jangle his heartstrings. Would that he had suppressed his anger and never chided the saintly sheikh! Would that.he'd never run into him! What harm would it have done if he'd ignored him and pa**ed him politely by? Moaning with regret and telling himself that anyone in his state of health would do better currying favor with God than angering one of His saintly Friends, he swallowed his pride, stood up, and left the ware­ house, making for Kersha's cafe, where he went up to the weeping sheikh, indifferent to the looks of astonishment directed toward him, and, placing his hand gently on his shoulder, said in sorrowful and apologetic tones, "Sheikh Darwish ... forgive me."