Fahmy watched her appear and disappear until no clothes were left to separate them. She faced him, her small hands rising and falling, her fingers slowly and deliberately grasping and releasing what she held, as though she was dragging out her work on purpose. Hisheart guessed it was on purpose, although he was torn between doubt and hope. He did not fight his feeling of being liberated to the farthest horizons by his happiness. He was conscious of nothing but dancing melodies. Although she did not glance up at him, her demeanor, the blush on her cheeks, and her avoidance of looking at him all betrayed how intensely conscious she was of his presence, or the impact he had made on her feelings.
Composed and still, she appeared to be very reserved, as though she was not the same girl who spread joy and delight throughout his house when she visited his sister and her voice carried through the house accompanied by her sonorous laughter. He would crouch behind the door of his room with a book in his hand, ready to pretend he was memorizing his lesson if anyone knocked on the door. He would intercept the melodious sounds of her words and laughter by concentrating on separating them from the other voices that blended with hers. His mind was like a magnet attracting to itself only the bits of steel from a mixture of various materials. He might catch a glimpse of her as he crossed the sitting room. Their eyes might meet in a glance which, though fleeting, would be enough to intoxicate him and stun him as though he had received a message with it so momentous it made hishead spin.
He nourished his eyes and spirit with glimpses of her face. Even though die looks were furtive and fleeting, they took control of his spirit and senses. They were strong and penetrating. A single one conveyed more than a lengthy gaze or a deep investigation. They were like a burst of lightning glowing for a brief moment, its flash illuminating vast expanses and dazzling the eyes. Hisheart was drunk with a mysterious and intoxicating joy, even though it was never free of a sorrow which trailed it, like the troublesome Khamsin winds from the sandy desert trailing the advent of spring. He could not stop thinking about the four years it would take to complete his education. During that time, countless hands might stretch out to pluck this ripe fruit. If the atmosphere of the house had not been so suffocating, with his father's iron grip tight around his neck, he would have been able to seek a more direct route to reassure hisheart. He was afraid to breathe a word about his hopes and expose them to the harsh rebuke of his father, which would scatter them and send them flying off.
He asked himself what she was thinking as he looked out over his brother'shead. Was it really nothing more than taking in the laundry? Had she not yet felt what motivated him to stand here evening after evening? What was her heart's response to these daring steps of his? He imagined himself hopping over the wall that separated the roofs to join her where she stood in the dusk. He imagined her reaction in different ways. She would be waiting for him by appointment or would be surprised at his advance and start to flee. Then he thought about what would come next the confession, complaint, and censure. In either case, hugging and kissing might follow, but these were mere speculations and flights of the itnagination. Fahmy was well grounded in religion and manners and knew how unrealistic and absurd they were.
It was a silent scene, but the silence was electric and could almost s:)eak without a tongue. Even Kamal had an anxious look in his small eyes, as though asking about the meaning of this strange seriousness that excited his curiosity pointlessly. Then, his patience exhausted, he raised his voice to say, “I've memorized the words. Aren't you going to listen to me?”
Fahmy was roused by his voice and took the notebook from him. He proceeded to ask him the meanings of the words while Kamal answered, until Fahmy's eyes fell on a beloved one. He discovered an extraordinary link between it and his present situation. He raised his voice intentionally when he asked what it meant: “Heart?”
The boy answered him and spelled the word, while Fahmy tried to discern her reaction. He raised his voice once more and asked, “Love?”
Kamal was a little disconcerted. Then he said in a voice that showed he was objecting, “This word isn't in the notebook.”
Smiling, Fahmy said, “But I've mentioned it to you repeatedly. You ought to know it by heart.”
The boy frowned, as though by contracting the arch of his eyebrowshe could fish out the fugitive word. His brother, though, did not wait for the results of this attempt. He continued his examination in the same loud voice, saying, “Marriage …”
He thought he noticed the semblance of a smile on her lips at that. Hisheart beat rapidly and feverishly. He was filled with a sense of victory, because he had at last been able to transmit to her a charge of the electricity blazing in hisheart. He wondered why it was this word which elicited a reaction from her. Was it because she disapproved of what preceded, or was it the first she heard?
Before he knew it, he heard Kamal protesting, after being unable to remember the answer, “These words are very hard.”
Hisheart affirmed his brother's innocent statement. He reflected on his situation in light of it. His joy at once subsided, or almost. He wanted to speak, but he saw she had bent over the basket. She picked it up and approached the wall adjoining the roof of his house. She placed the basket on top of the wall and began to press the laundry down with the palms of her hands. She was close to him, separated by little more than a meter. Had she wanted to, she could have chosen another place on the wall, but she had deliberately confronted him. She had acted so aggressively that she seemed daring to a degree that frightened and perplexed him. Hisheartbeats were fast and feverish once more. He felt life was disclosing to him a new variety of treasure he had never experienced before. It was charming, delightful, vital, and enjoyable. She did not stand close to him long, for at once she lifted the basket and turned to go to the door leading down from the roof. She darted away from him and disappeared from sight. He stared at the door for some time, oblivious to his brother, who repeated his complaint about the difficulty of the word.
Fahmy felt a desire to be alone to enjoy this new experience of love. He looked out into space and pretended to be astonished, as though be had just noticed for the first time the darkness marching across the horizon. He muttered, “It's time for us to go in….”
11
KAMAL WAS memorizing his lessons in the sitting room. He had left Fahmy alone in the study in order to be closer to his mother and sisters, who were enjoying a continuation of the coffee party limited to women. Their talk, however trifling, provided them with incomparable delight, and as usual they sat so close to each other they seemed a single body with three heads.
Kamal sat cross-legged on the sofa facing them. He had his book open in his lap. He would read for a while and then close his eyes to try to learn some by heart. At intervalshe would amuse himself by looking at them and listening to their conversation. Fahmy only grudgingly agreed to let him study his lessons away from his supervision, but the boy's excellent performance in school provided him with an excuse to choose any place he wanted for studying. In fact, his diligence was his only virtue worth praising and, had it not been for his naughtiness, it would have won encouragement even from his father.
Despite his diligence and superior performance, he got bored at times and felt so disgusted with work and discipline that he envied his mother and sisters their ignorance and the rest and peace they enjoyed. Privately he even wished the destiny of men in this world was like that of women, but these were fleeting moments. He never forgot the advantageshe possessed, which inspired him frequently to lord it over them and brag, even for no reason at all. It was not unusual for him to ask them, his voice resounding with challenge, “Who knows the capital of the Cape?” or “How do you say ‘boy’ in French?”
He would encounter a polite silence from Aisha. Khadija would acknowledge her ignorance, but retort, “Only a person with a head like yours can handle such riddles.”
Her mother would comment with innocent self-confidence: “If you'd teach me these things the way you d
o religious studies, I'd know them as well as you”. In spite of her gentleness and humility, she was intensely proud of her general knowledge, which had come down to her from antiquity through successive generations. She did not feel in need of further education or suspect i:here was any new knowledge worth adding to the religious, historical, and medical information she already possessed. Her faith in her learning was doubled by the fact that she had gotten k straight from her father, or by growing up in his house, and that her father was a shaykh and one of the religious scholars God favored over all creation, because they knew the Qur'an by heart. It was inconceivable that any knowledge could equal his, although, in the interest of keeping the peace, she did not mention this to the others.
She frequently disapproved of things the boys were told in school. She was upset either because of the explanations provided or because young minds were allowed to learn such things. Fortunately, she did not detect a difference worth mentioning between what the boy was told in school about religion and her own knowledge of it. Since the school lesson consisted of little more than recitation of Qur'an suras along with commentaries on them and the first principles of religion, she had found it allowed her scope to narrate the legends she knew and believed to be an inseparable part of the reality and essence of religion. She may even have seen in them an eternal element of religion. Most recounted miracles of the Prophet and prodigies of the Prophet's comparions and the saints, along with various spells for defense against the jinn, reptiles, and diseases.
The boy did not doubt these tales and believed in them, because they came from his mother and they did not conflict with what he learned about religion at school. Moreover, the mentality of his religion teacher, as revealed by his casual remarks, did not differ at all from the mother's. Kamal was enthralled by the legends in a way that none of his dry lessons could match. Filled with enjoyment and flights of the imagination, his mother's lesson was one of the happiest hours of his day.
On subjects outside religion, their disputes were not infrequent. For example, they differed once about whether the earth rotates on its own axis in space or stands on the head of an ox. When she found the boy insistent, she backed down and pretended to give in. All the same, she slipped off to Fahmy's room to ask him about the truth of the ox supporting the earth, and whether it still did. The young man thought he should be gentle with her and answer in language she would like. He told her that the earth isheld up by the power and wisdom of God. His mother left content with this answer, which pleased her, and the large ox was not erased from her imagination.
Kamal, however, did not choose this gathering for his studies to boast about his learning or because he liked intellectual disputes. The truth was that he loved the women's company with all hisheart and did not want to be separated from them even when he was working. Seeing them gave him a pleasure nothing else could equal. He loved his mother more than anything in the world. He could not imagine existing without her even for a moment. Khadija played the role of a second mother in his life, despite the impudence of her tongue and the bite of her temper. Aisha, although she never went out of her way to help anyone, loved him deeply, and he reciprocated her love totally. He would not take a drink of water from the jug without asking her to drink first. Then he would put his lips on the place she had drunk from.
As it did every evening, this gathering lasted until about eight, when the two girls rose, said good night to their mother, and went to their bedroom. At that, the boy hurried to finish reading his lesson. Then he took his religion textbook and moved next to his mother on her sofa. He told her temptingly, “Today we heard a commentary on a fantastic sura you'll really like.”
The woman sat up and replied reverently and devoutly, “All the words of our Lord are fantastic.”
He was pleased by her interest. A feeling of bliss and power he experienced only during this final lesson of the day coursed through him. Indeed he found in this religion lesson more than one reason to be happy. For at least half of it he had the role of teacher. So far as he was able, he would attempt to recall whatever he could about his teacher's bearing and gestures and the feeling of power and superiority he projected. In the other half of the lesson he would find enjoyment in the memories and legends she related to him. Throughout it all he would have his mother completely to himself.
Kamal looked in the book almost conceitedly. Then he recited, “In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful. Say: It has been revealed to me that a group of the jinn listened in. They said, 'We have heard a wondrous Qur'an. It provides guidance to correct decisions. We declare our belief in it and shall worship our Lord exclusively.' “ (72:12.) He recited “The Jinn” through the twenty-eighth verse.
His mother's eyes had an apprehensive and anxious look. She had warned him against uttering the words “jinn” and “afreet” as a precaution against dangers, some of which she mentioned in order to frighten him and others she withheld out of concern and circumspection. She did not know what to do when he recited one of these dangerous names in a holy sura. Indeed, she did not even know what to do to prevent him from memorizing this sura or what she would do if, as usual, he invited her to memorize it with him. The boy detected this anxiety in her face. He was overcome by a crafty pleasure. He recited the passage several times, emphatically pronouncing the dangerous word while he observed her anxiety. He expected she would ultimately express her concern apologetically, but her anxiety was so intense that she took refuge in silence.
He began to repeat the commentary to her the way he had heard it until he suggested, “So you see that some of the jinn listened to the Qur'an and believed in it; perhaps the ones living in our house are some of these Muslim jinn. Otherwise, why have they spared us all this time?”
The woman replied rather uneasily, “Perhaps they are, but it's possible some others are mixed in with them. So it would be best for us not to repeat their names.”
“There's nothing to fear in repeating the word. That's what our teacher said.”
His mother stared at him critically and said, “The teacher doesn't know everything.”
Even if the name is in a sacred verse?”
Confronted by his question she felt upset but found herself forced 1 o respond, “The word of our Lord is a blessing in its entirety.”
Kamal was satisfied and continued with his account of the commentary: “Our shaykh also says their bodies are made of fire!”
Her anxiety became extreme. She implored God's protection and invoked His name a number of times.
Kamal continued talking: “I asked the shaykh if the Muslims among them would enter paradise. He said, ‘Yes.’ I also asked him how they could, if their bodies are made of fire. He replied sharply that God can do anything”. “May His might be exalted.”
He gazed at her with concern and then asked, “If we meet them in paradise, won't their fire burn us?”
The woman smiled and said confidently and devoutly, “There is no harm or fear there.”
The boy's eyes wandered dreamily. Then he changed the course of the conversation suddenly by asking, “Will we see God in the next world with our eyes?”
His mother answered with the same confidence and devotion, “This is true. There can be no doubt of it.”
Yearnings showed in his dreamy glance like rays of light shining through the darkness. He asked himself when he would see God. In what form would He appear? Abruptly shifting topics once more, he asked his mother, “Is my father afraid of God?”
She was astonished and said incredulously, “What a strange question! Son, your father is a pious man, a believer who fears his Lord.”
Perplexed, he shook hishead and said in a subdued voice, “I can't imagine my father being afraid of anything.”
His mother shouted in censure: “May God forgive you. … God forgive you.”
He apologized for what he had said with a tender smile. Then he invited her to memorize the new sura. They proceeded to recite it together, verse by verse, an
d repeat it. When they thought they had accomplished as much as they could, the boy rose to go to his bedroom.
She stayed with him until he had slipped under the covers of his little bed. Placing her hand on his forehead, she recited the Throne Verse from the Qur'an about God's all-encompassing, watchful care (2:255). She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He put his arms around her neck and gave her a long kiss that came from the depths of his small heart.
She always had trouble getting away from him when she said good night. He would use every trick he knew to keep her beside him for the longest time possible, even if he did not get her to stay till he fell asleep in her arms. He had found that the best way to attain his goal was to ask her to recite, when she finished the Throne Verse, a second and a third verse with her hand on hishead. If he perceived she was excusing herself with a smile, he would implore her to continue, citing his fear of being alone in the room or the bad dreamshe would have unless there was a lengthy recitation of sacred verses. He might go so far in trying to retain her as to pretend to be sick. He found nothing wrong in these stratagems. He was certain that they did not even compensate for a sacred right which had been violated in the most atrocious way the day he was unjustly and forcibly separated from his mother and brought to this solitary bed in his brother's room.
How often he remembered with sorrow the time not so far distant when he and his mother shared a bed. He would fall asleep, hishead resting on her arm, while she filled his ear with the sound of her gentle voice recounting stories of the prophets and saints. He would be asleep before his father returned from his night out and wake only after the man had risen to bathe. He would not see anyone else with his mother. The world belonged to him and he had no rival. Then a blind decree that made no sense had separated them. He had looked to her to see what impact his banishment had made on her.
How startled he had been by her encouragement, which implied that she agreed with the decision. She had congratulated him, saying, “Now you've become a man. You have a right to a bed of your own”. Who said it would make him happy to become a man or that he craved a bed of his own? Although he had soaked his first private pillow with his tears and warned his mother he would never forgive her so long as he lived, he had never dared slip back into his former bed. He knew that behind that treacherous, tyrannical action crouched his father's unalterable will. How sad he had been. The dregs of sorrow embittered his dreams. How furioushe had been with his mother, not just because it was impossible for him to be furious at his father but because she was the last person he thought would disappoint his hopes. She knew, though, bow to appease him and gradually cheer him up.
The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street Page 10