The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street

by Naguib Mahfouz

  Amina had fallen silent, as though accepting his arguments. Although she had acquired from her time of suffering some measure of courage about voicing her opinion in front of her husband, she did not have enough nerve to oppose him. Thus when Khadija visited her to say that Yasin had invited her to his wedding and that she was thinking of using ill health as an excuse for declining, Amina had disagreed and advised her to accept her brother's invitation.

  Thursday arrived, and al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad went to the home of the late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan, where he found Yasin and Kamal waiting to greet him. They were soon joined by Ibrahim and Khalil Shawkat, who were accompanied by Khadija and Aisha. Maryam's family was represented by only a few women, and al-Sayyid Ahmad felt reassured that the day would indeed pass tranquilly.

  On his way to the parlor, he encountered familiar landmarks, oneshe had seen previously in radically different circumstances. He was besieged by memories, which provoked various forms of disgust and vexation within him, because of the silent mockery of the new role he had come to perform - that of the dignified father of the bridegroom. He was secretly cursing his son, who had landed him and himself - if he would only realize it - in a fix. The fact that the marriage was actually taking place tempted him to reconsider the situation and to hope that God had created the daughter from another pattern than her mother's and that Yasin would find Maryam an excellent wife, in every sense of the word, and be spared reckless behavior like her mother's. Then he asked God to conceal things best forgotten.

  Yasin was handsome in his finery and obviously happy, despite the simplicity of the reception honoring his wedding. The secret of his good spirits was the presence of his brother and sisters. He had been apprehensive that their mother might influence one of them to stay home. Would it have been possible to dispense with Mar-yam for their sakes? Certainly not… He loved her. Since she had offered him no route to her save marriage, this wedding was inevitable. The objections of his father and stepmother were misplaced. Yasin was unimpressed by the threat of dire consequences. Furthermore, Mary am was the first woman he had desired to marry on the basis of a prior knowledge of her character and appearance. For this, reason he was optimistic about the prospects for the marriage, hoping that it would establish a lasting conjugal life for him. Th at much was true. He felt he would be a good husband and that she would make a good wife for him. In time he was sure Rddwan would have a happy home in which to grow up and mature. Yasin had drifted around a lot, and it was time for him to settle down. Had the circumstances attending his wedding been difFerent, he would not have hesitated to celebrate it with a party offering many delights and pleasures. He was not so old, poor, or ill at ease with parties that he would ordinarily be content with this dreary reunion, more like a funeral than a wxdding. But one should no t judge the situation too hastily, for necessity has its own laws. He would cedicate this abstinence to Fahmy's memory.

  Maryam's reunion with Khadija and Aisha, after a separation of several years, was an emotional one, no matter how reserved or awkward. They exchanged kisses and compliments. Their lengthy conversation ranged far and wide but sidestepped the past, as far as possible. The first moments were the most strained. Each of the women expected old memories relating to the rupture and the development of bad feelings between them to be dredged up in a negative or critical fashion. These first delicate moments passed safely, and Maryam adroitly steered the conversation toward Kha-dija's clothes and Aisha's slender figure, which she had retained even after bearing three children. Maryam and her mother asked about “the mother”. They were told that she was well, and nothing more was said about her.

  Aisha looked at her longtime friend with an eye filled with tender affection, for her heart was always ready to love. If she had not felt apprehensive about the consequences, she would have turned the conversation to memories of the past, in order to laugh over them to her heart's content.

  Khadija stealthily scrutinized Maryam. Although she had not thought of her former friend for years, news of her marriage to Yasin had inspired a flood of bitter comments. She had reminded Aisha about the incident with the Englishman, wondering aloud what could have blinded and deafened Yasin. Yet Khadija's emotional commitment to her family was so intense that it took precedence over everything else and prevented her from criticizing Maryam within earshot of members of the Shawkat family. Not even Khadija's husband was exempted. She cautioned her mother: “Whether we like it or not, Maryam is going to become part of our family”. There was nothing strange in this attitude, for Khadija, even after giving birth to Abd al-Muni'm Shawkat and Ahmad Shawkat, still considered the Shawkats strangers, to a certain degree.

  The marriage clerk arrived early in the evening, and the wedding contract was drawn up. Cool drinks flavored with fruit syrup were passed around and a single whooping trill of joy resounded. Yasin received their congratulations and good wishes. The bride was summoned to meet her “senior master,” al-Sayyid Ahmad, and the family of her new husband. Escorted by her mother, Khadija, and Aisha, she kissed her father-in-law's hand and shook those of the others. Then al-Sayyid Ahmad presented her with the wedding gift, a set of gold bracelets studded with small diamonds and emeralds. The family gathering lasted a long time, with the guests starting to leave, one after the other, at about nine. Then the carriage arrived to take the couple to Yasin's house in Palace of Desire Alley, where he had prepared the third floor to receive his bride. Everyone thought that, for better or for worse, the curtain had fallen on Yasin's second marriage.

  But two weeks after this wedding the home of the late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan witnessed another nuptial party, one considered truly bizarre by the residents of al-Sayyid Ahmad's home, of Sugar Street, of Palace of Desire Alley, and of the whole Palace Walk neighborhood. Without any prior warning, people learned to their total amazement that Bahija was marrying Bayumi, who sold fruit drinks. Everyone was stunned by this. It seemed they were realizing for the first time that Bayumi's shop stood at the head of the alley where the Ridwan residence was located and that it lay directly beneath one of the venerable latticed balconies of the house. Confronted by this fact, they could only wonder. And people had every reason to be amazed, for the bride was the widow of a man known during his lifetime for his goodness and piety an d she was considered one of the respectable ladies of the district, even though she was fond of personal adornment. And she was fifty. The bridegroom was a common fellow who wore unpretentious ankle-length shirts and sold carob- and tamarind-flavored drinks in a small shop. He was only forty. He had also been married for twenty years and had fathered nine children. All these factors provoked gossip. Without any reserve whatsoever people waded into the subject of the events that must have preceded the wedding but which had passed undetected by anyone. When and how did these things happen? How did they develop to the point of culminating in matrimony? Which of the two parties had initiated the relationship and which had accepted the invitation?

  Uncle Hasanayn, the barber, whose establishment was on the other side of the street, next to the ancient building housing the public cistern, reported that he had frequently seen Mrs. Bahija standing in front of Bayumi's stall, consuming a carob drink. Perhaps they had exchanged a few words then, but, being a kindly man, the barber had never suspected anything. Asking God's forgiveness, Abu Sari', who sold roasted snacks from a shop that closed later than other ones, said he had occasionally noticed men slipping into her house by night but had not known Bayumi was one of them. Darwish, who sold cooked beans, had some things to say, as did al-Fuli, the milkman. Although they pretended to pity the man with all those children and to criticize him bitterly for being so stupid as to marry a woman old enough to be his mother, they were secretly envious of his luck and resented his ascent from their class by means of this unorthodox ploy. Following those comments there was a great deal of talk about the extent of his expected inheritance from the house and a possible treasure trove ofjewelry.

  The households of al-Sayyid Ahmad, of Sugar S
treet, and of Palace of Desire Alley were severely shaken. “What a scandal!” everyone exclaimed. Al-Sayyid Ahmad was so angry that members of his immediate family were too terrified to speak to him for several days running. From that time on, Bayumi the drinks vendor would surely have a right to consider al-Sayyid Ahmad his relative. “Curses on Yasin and his lusts!” Bayumi the drinks vendor had become his “uncle,” and everyone's nose had been rubbed in the dirt.

  When the information reached Khadija, she shouted, “What awful news!” Then she asked Aisha, “Who could ever fault Mother after this? Her heart is never wrong.”

  Yasin swore to his father that the event had taken place without his knowledge or his wife's. It had made his wife sadder than anyone could possibly imagine. But what could she do?

  The scandal did not stop there, for the moment Bayumi's first wife heard the news, she went berserk and stormed out of her home like a lunatic, pushing her children in front of her. She swooped down on Bayumi in his store, and a fierce battle broke out between them as words, hands, feet, shrieks, and screams were employed within the sight and hearing of their children, who began to howl and implore people at hand and passersby to help. Soon a crowd had collected in front of the store - pedestrians, shop owners, women, and children. When they separated the couple and forced the woman back into the street, she came to rest under Bahija's balcony. Her dress was ripped, her wrap in shreds, her hair disheveled, and her nose bloody. She reared her head back to look up at the shuttered windows before unleashing a tongue like a whip with poisoned, weighted ends.

  Worse still, when she left her post there, she headed for al-Sayyid Ahmad's store, because he was the father-in-law of her husband's new stepdaughter. She begged him tearfully and ora-torically to use his influence to convince her husband to mend his sinful ways. Although seething with rage and chagrin at his plight, al-Sayyid Ahmad heard her out. Then he delicately tried to make her understand, so far as he was able, that this whole affair was beyond the scope of his influence, contrary to her expectations. He kept at it until he persuaded her to leave his store. He was furious but, even so, thought long and hard about Bahija's motives for this strange marriage, especially since he was certain it would not have been hard for her to find a way to gratify any desire she might have felt for Bayumi the drinks vendor without exposing herself and her family to the disturbing consequences of marriage. Why had she committed this folly, paying no attention to the man's wife and children and wantonly disregarding the feelings of her daughter and her daughter's new family, as if she had gone insane? Was it not a gloomy feeling of growing old that had made her seek refuge in marriage? Indeed she was sacrificing many of her possessions in her pursuit of the happiness that fleeting youth had once secured for her. He brooded over this idea sorrowfully and despondently. He remembered his own humiliation at the hands of Zanuba the lute player. She had refused him so much as an affectionate glance until he had set her up in the houseboat. That humiliation had shattered his self-confidence and had made him, despite his apparent serenity, frown back at time, since it had begun to frown at him.

  In any event, Bahija did not have long to enjoy her marriage. By the end of the third week she was complaining of a sore on her leg. When she had a medical examination she was diagnosed as being diabetic and taken to Qasr al-Ayni Hospital. Reports of the gravity of her condition were heard for several days. Then the appointed hour overtook her.

  88

  HOLDING A small bag under his arm, Kamal stood in front of the Shaddad family mansion. He was wearing an elegant gray suit, and his black shoes were gleaming. With his fez perched securely on his large head, he looked tall and thin. Protruding from his shirt, his neck seemed nonchalant about supporting this large head and huge nose. The weather was pleasant, although occasionally a chilly breeze announced that December was on its way. The scattered, sparkling white clouds moved across the sky languidly, veiling the morning sun from time to time. Kamal stood there expectantly, his eyes directed toward the garage. Then the Fiat emerged, driven by Husayn Shaddad, who turned it around on Palaces Street and came to a halt beside Kamal. He stuck hishead out the window and asked his friend, “Haven't they come yet?”

  He blew the horn three times. Opening the door, he said, “Come sit next to me.”

  Kamal was content to put the bag inside. He muttered, “Be patient”. Then Budur's voice reached him from the garden. Turning in that direction, he saw her advance at a gallop with A'ida trailing behind. Yes, his beloved was approaching, her exquisite figure clad in a stylish short gray dress. A blue silk smock hid the top part of her dress but revealed the girl's pure, bronze forearms. The black halo of her hair encircled the back of her neck and her cheeks and swung with a flowing motion as she walked. The strands of her bangs were plastered to her forehead. In the middle of the black oval there was a face of moonlike beauty, lovely in a way both chic and angelic. It seemed the serene ambassador of the kingdom of happy dreams.

  Kamal felt held in place by an overpowering magnetic force. He was in a state between dreaming and waking, conscious only of a sense of gratitude and a pulsing ecstasy. With light prancing steps she approached, like a beautiful melody in bodily form, until she was near enough for him to inhale her Parisian perfume. When their eyes met, a cheerful smile that was temperedy by aristocratic reserve could be detected in her eyes and on her pursed lips. Kamal responded with an anxious grin and a bow of hishead.

  Husayn told her, “You and Budur sit in the back seat.”

  Kamal moved to open the rear door of the automobile and stood there at attention like one of the household helps. He was rewarded with a smile and a word of thanks in French. He waited for Budur and his beloved to climb in. Then he closed the door and slipped onto the front seat beside Husayn, who blew the horn once more as he looked toward the mansion. The doorman immediately arrived with a small basket, which he placed next to KamaFs bag in the space between the two young men. Laughingly tapping the basket and the bag, Husayn asked, “What good is an excursion without food?”

  As the engine started it emitted a groan of protest. Then the car dashed off along al-Abbasiya Street. Husayn Shaddad was telling Kamal, “I know a lot about you, and today will permit me to add fresh information concerning your stomach. I suspect that despite your slenderness, you're a glutton. Do you think I'm mistaken?”

  Smiling and more delighted than one would think humanly possible, Kamal answered, “Wait and see for yourself.”

  A single automobile was carrying all of them on a shared adventure almost impossible to imagine except in dreams. Kamal could hear his wishes whisper, “If only you were sitting in the back seat and she was in front, your eyes could have watched her all they wanted during the whole trip, free of supervision.”

  “Don't be greedy and ungrateful,” he cautioned himself. “Bow down in praise and thanksgiving. Liberate your head from thought, free yourself from the stream of desires, and devote all your attention to experiencing the present moment. Isn't an hour worth a whole lifetime or even more?”

  “I wasn't able to invite Hasan and Isma'il to join us on this excursion.”

  Kamal did not speak but gave his friend a questioning look. Hisheart was throbbing with joy and embarrassment at being singled out for this distinction.

  Then Husayn continued apologetically: “The car, as you can see., isn't big enough for everyone.”

  In a faint voice Kamal replied, “That's clear.”

  Smiling, his friend observed, “When it's necessary to choose, you should pick the person who most resembles you. And there's no doubt that our interests in life are close. Isn't that so?”

  Kamal's face reflected the happiness overflowing hisheart, and he said, “Of course”. Then, laughing, he added, “Except that I'm content with spiritual journeys, whereas it appears that you won't be satisfied until your spiritual trip takes you all around the physical world.”

  “Don't you long to see the world?”

  Kamal thought a little before saying,
“It seems to me that I have a natural love of staying put. I flinch at the thought of travel. I mean because of the commotion and upheaval, not because of the sights and the chance to explore. If it were feasible, I would like to have the world parade past while I stand here.”

  Husayn Shaddad laughed in an endearing way that came straight from hisheart. He said, “Stay aloft in a balloon, if you can, and watch the world revolve beneath you.”

  Kamal savored Husayn's charming laugh for some time. The image of Hasan Salim came to mind, and he compared these two different versions of the aristocracy: one remarkable for charm and cheerfulness, the other characterized by reserve and arrogance. Regardless of these differences, both were distinguished.

  Kamal observed, “Fortunately, mental journeys don't require any movement at all.”

  Husayn Shaddad raised his eyes with apparent skepticism but abandoned the topic. He said joyfully, “What's important for us now is to take a short trip together, united by our tastes, which are so similar.”

  Before Kamal knew what was happening, a sweet voice behind him said, “In short, Husayn's as fond of you as Budur is.”

  Perfumed with love and set to music by her angelic voice, this sentence penetrated Kamal'sheart and sent him into an inebriated ecstasy. It was like a magical melody emerging suddenly in the middle of a song, rising above customary expectations in an un-imagined way to leave the listener perched between rationality and delirium.

  “The beloved is recklessly playing with the vocabulary of love. She sprinkles you with it, little realizing that she is pouring flammable magnesium on a blazing heart”. He recalled the sound of her words in order to re-create their resonant love within him. Affection is an ancient melody but seems marvelously fresh in each new rendition. “My God, I'm perishing from an excess of happiness,” he thought.