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

by Naguib Mahfouz

  He asked dejectedly, “When will we meet again? I haven't forgotten your keen desire to be a perpetual tourist. Who will guarantee your departure won't be permanent?”

  Isma'il agreed. “My heart tells me the sparrow won't fly back into the cage.”

  Husayn laughed briefly but in a way that revealed his delight. He answered, “I wasn't able to win my father's consent to travel until I promised to continue my legal studies. But I don't know how long I'll be able to keep that promise. There's no great affection between me and the law. Besides, I imagine I won't have much patience with systematic instruction. I only want things I love. My heart's torn between various different forms of knowledge. No one college deals with all of them, as I've told you time and again. I wish to attend lectures on philosophy of art as well as others on poetry and fiction. I want to tour the museums and recital halls, fall in love, and have a good time. What college or faculty offers all these opportunities? Then there's another fact you both know. It's that I'd rather hear than read. I want someone else to do the explaining while I listen. Then I'll dash off my senses at their most perceptive and my mind alert - to mountainsides, seashores, bars, cafes, and dance halls. You'll be receiving a series of reports from me on all these unique experiences.”

  Husayn seemed to be describing the paradise Kamal had ceased believing in. But Husayn's was a negative paradise, full of taking without any giving. Kamal had aspired to a more positive one. Once this rosy life embraced Husayn to her comely bosom, it was absurd to think he would ever long for his old home.

  Isma'il expressed some of Kamal's concerns when he told Husayn, “You won't return. Farewell, Husayn! We have approximately the same dream. Leaving aside the philosophy of art, museums, poetry, mountain slopes, and so forth, we could be a single person. I remind you one final time that you'll never return to us.”

  Kamal cast Husayn a questioning glance, as if to see what he thought about Isma'il's words.

  Their friend said, “No, I'll return frequently. Egypt will be on my extensive itinerary so I can see my family and friends”. Then he told Kamal, “I'll be waiting for you to visit Europe with such anxious anticipation that I can almost feel it already.”

  Who could say? Perhaps Kamal's lie would turn out to be the truth. Alaybe he would traverse those distant realms. No matter what happened, hisheart told him that Husayn would return one day and that this profound friendship would not end. Hisheart sincerely believed this, just as it had believed love could not be plucked from the heart, roots and all… alas.

  He entreated his friend, “Travel and do whatever you want, but come back to Egypt to reside here. Then you can leave for trips when you feel like it.”

  Isma'il added his support to this idea: “If you're really a decent fellow, you'll accept this obvious solution, which reconciles your wishes with ours.”

  Bowing hishead as if convinced, Husayn said, “My travels will eventually lead me to this solution, I believe.”

  As Kamal listened to Husayn, he gazed at his friend, especially at the black eyes that resembled Aida's and the gestures, which were both grand and gracious. Husayn's diaphanous spirit was almost a visible and tangible presence for Karnal. If this dear friend disappeared, what would remain of the blessing of friendship and the memory of love… that friendship through which Kamal had learned Platonic affection and relaxed happiness… and the love that had inspired in him feelings of heavenly joy and hellish torment?

  Referring to each of them in turn, Husayn continued: “When I return to Egypt you'll be an accountant in the Ministry of Finance and you'll be a teacher. It's quite possible I'll find you're fathers. What an amazing idea!”

  Isma'il asked laughingly, “Can you imagine us as government employees? Try to picture Kamal as a teacher!” Then he told Kamal, “You'll have to put on a lot of weight before you stand in front of your pupils. You'll find the next generation's a bunch of demons. Compared with them we were angels. Although a dedicated supporter of the Wafd Party, you'll find yourself forced by the government to punish students who strike in support of the Wafd.”

  Isma'il's observation forced Kamal away from the train of thought absorbing him. He found himself wondering how he could face pupils with his notorioushead and nose. He felt resentful and bitter, imagining on the basis of the behavior of odd-looking teachershe had known - that he would treat his pupils harshly in order to protect himself from their mischief. But he also wondered whether he would be able to be as strict with others as he was with himself.

  He ventured, “I don't think I'll always be a teacher.”

  There was a dreamy look in Husayn's eyes as he said, “You'll go from teaching into journalism, I suspect. Isn't that so?”

  Kamal found himself thinking about the future. He thought again of the all-inclusive book he had often dreamt of writing. But what was left of the original subject matter? He no longer considered the prophets to have been prophets. Heaven and hell did not exis:. The study of man was merely a branch of animal science. He would have to search for a new topic. Speaking impulsively again, he said, “If I could, I'd start a magazine someday to promote modern thought.”

  Isma'il admonished him, “No, politics is what sells publications, [f you want, you can devote a column on the back page to thought. There's room in this country for a new Wafdist satirical writer.”

  Husayn laughed out loud and said, “Our friend doesn't seem to be very positive about politics. His family's already made a big enough sacrifice for the nation. But thought's a wide-open field for him”. Then he told Kamal, “What you mentioned is certainly possible for you___Your rebellion against religion was a sudden leap I didn't expect.”

  This observation cheered Kamal, for it sanctioned his rebellion and his pride. Blushing, he said, “How beautiful it would be if man could devote his life to truth, goodness, and beauty.”

  Isma'il whistled three times, once for each of these qualities. Then he said sarcastically, “Listen and take note!”

  But Husayn said seriously, “I'm like you, but I'm satisfied with knowledge and enjoyment.”

  Enthusiastically and sincerely Kamal replied, “The matter's more exalted than that. It's a struggle toward truth aiming at the good of mankind as a whole. In my opinion, life would be meaningless without that.”

  Isma'il struck his hands together in a way that reminded Kamal of his father and said, “Then life necessarily has no meaning. How you've worn yourself out and suffered to free yourself from religion…. I haven't tired myself like that, because religion never interested me. Do you suppose I'm a born philosopher? [t's enough for me to live a life that doesn't need to be explained, ['m instinctively drawn to what you achieve only after a bitter struggle. God forgive me, you haven't achieved it yet, for you still even after renouncing religion - believe in truth, goodness, and beauty. You wish to dedicate your life to them. Isn't this what religion requests? How can you claim to reject a principle when you believe in everything derived from it?”

  “Pay no attention to this gentle mockery,” Kamal advised himself. But why should the valueshe believed in always seem to be the object of ridicule? “Suppose you had to choose between Ai'da and a righteous life. Which would you choose? … But when I think of her, A'ida's always identified with what's most exemplary.”

  Feeling the silence had lasted too long, Husayn answered for Kamal: “The Believer derives his love for these values from religion, while the free man loves them for themselves.”

  “O Lord, when will I see you again?” Kamal asked himself.

  Isma'il laughed in a manner that revealed his thoughts were shifting to a new direction. He asked Kamal, “Tell me: Don't you still pray? Do you intend to fast as usual during Ramadan?”

  “My invocations for her were the most enjoyable parts of my prayers,” Kamal mused. “My evenings in this mansion were the happiest moments of Ramadan for me.”

  “I no longer pray. I won't fast.”

  “Will you tell people you're not?”

 
; Laughing, Kamal said, “No.”

  “You prefer to be a hypocrite?”

  He answered resentfully, “There's no need to hurt people I love.”

  Isma'il asked sarcastically, “If you're this softhearted, how do you think you'll ever be able to confront society with unpopular views?”

  “What about a satiric fable like the classic 'Kalila and Dimna'?” Kamal asked himself. This splendid thought drove away his resentment. “Lord, have I stumbled on an idea for a book I never thought of before?”

  “Addressing readers is one thing; telling parents you're not fasting is something else.”

  Gesturing toward Kamal, Isma'il told Husayn, “Here's a philosopher who comes from a family deeply rooted in ignorance.”

  “You'll never be at a loss for companions to play and joke around with, but you'll never gain another friend for your spirit capable of conversing directly with it,” Kamal told himself. “So be content with silence or with talking to yourself like a lunatic.”

  They were all quiet for a time. The garden was silent too, for there was no breeze. Only the roses, carnations, and violets seemed to be enjoying the heat. The sun had withdrawn its luminous gown from the garden, leaving only a hem trailing over the east wall.

  Isma'il ended the silence by turning to Husayn Shaddad and asking, “Do you suppose you'll get a chance to visit Hasan Salim and Mrs. Ai'da?”

  “My God!” Kamal exclaimed to himself “Is it just my heart pounding or has the end of the world begun in my breast?”

  “After I'm settled in Paris, I'll definitely think of visiting Brussels”. Stniling, he added, “We received a letter from Ai'da last week. It seems she's having morning sickness….”

  “So pain and life are twins,” Kamal thought. “I'm nothing but unadulterated pain in a man's clothes. Ai'da has a swelling belly awash with fluids…. Is this one of life's tragedies or comedies? The most blessed event of our lives will be our extinction. I wish I knew the essence of this pain.”

  Isma'il Latif exclaimed, “Their children will be foreigners!”

  “It's agreed that they'll be sent to Egypt when they're old enough.”

  “Will you find them one day in a class of your students?” Kamal asked himself. “You'll wonder where you've seen those eyes. Your pounding heart will reply that they've been living inside you for a long time. If her little boy makes fun of your head and nose, will you have the heart to punish him? Forgetfulness, are you a legend too?”

  Husayn went on: “She wrote at great length of her new life and didn't conceal her delight with it. In fact, she only said she missed her family to be polite.”

  “She was created for a life like this in one of those dream countries,” Kamal reflected. “That she should partake of human nature was one more example of irreverent toying by the fates with things you hold sacred. Do you suppose it didn't occur to her to refer to her former friends in her chatty letter, not even with one word?… But how do you know she still remembers them?”

  They were silent again. The sunset colors gradually began to turn a calm brown. A predatory kite could be seen circling in the distant sky. The barking of a dog reached them. Isma'il got a drink from the pitcher. Husayn started to whistle, while Kamal stealthily watched him with a placid face and a broken heart.

  “The heat this year's dreadful”. Isma'il said that and dried his lips with an embroidered silk handkerchief. Then he burped and put the handkerchief back in his pocket.

  “Separation from loved ones is even more dreadful,” Kamal reflected.

  “When are you leaving for the beach?”

  “At the end of June,” Isma'il said with evident relief.

  Husayn said, “We're going to Ra's al-Barr tomorrow. I'll stay there a week with my family. Then I'll go with my father to Alexandria, where I'll board the ship the thirtieth of June.”

  The history of an era would end, and perhaps a heart would die. Husayn gazed at Kamal for some time. Then he laughed and said, “We leave you with the country happily united in a coalition of political parties. Perhaps news of Egyptian independence will precede me to Paris.”

  Addressing Husayn but pointing at Kamal, Isma'il exclaimed, “Your friend's not too happy about the coalition. It rubs him the wrong way for Sa'd Zaghlul to hold hands with traitors. It's even harder on him that Sa'd's agreed to avoid conflict with the British by leaving the post of Prime Minister to his longtime foe Adli. So you'll find that his views are even more immoderate than those of his revered leader.”

  “The truce with former enemies and traitors is one more disappointment you have to swallow,” Kamal told himself. “Is there anything in this world that has lived up to your hopes?”

  But he laughed out loud and said, “This coalition wants to impose a deputy from the Liberal Party on our district.”

  The three of them roared with laughter. A frog hopped into sight and then quickly disappeared in the grass. A breeze stirred, announcing the approach of evening. The clamor and commotion of the world encircling them began to diminish. The gathering would soon break up. That fact alarmed Kamal and made him look around to fill his eyes with the sights. Here for the first time he had experienced love. Here the angelic voice had sung out, “Kamal”. Here the devastating conversation about hishead and nose had taken place. Here the beloved had leveled her accusations against him. Beneath this sky lay memories of emotions, feelings, and reactions. These could not be disturbed by any power weaker than one capable of bringing the desert to life and making it bloom. He soaked up all of this and took pains to remember the date, for events frequently seem not to have happened if the day, month, and year are not fixed.

  “We appeal to the sun and moon for help in escaping from time's straight line when we wish to circle back and regain our lost memories, but nothing ever returns,” brooded Kamal. “So break down and cry or dispel your worries with a smile.”

  Ismail Latif stood up and said, “The time's come for us to leave.”

  Kamal allowed Isma'il to embrace their friend first. Then his turn came, and they hugged each other at length. Kamal planted a kiss on Husayn's cheek and received one in return. The fragrance of the Shaddad family filled his nostrils. It had a gentle, zesty bouquet rare for a human being, like a puff of air from a dream that had circled in a sky replete with delights and pains. Kamal inhaled this scent until he grew tipsy. He was silent while he attempted to gain control of his emotions. All the same, his voice trembled when he said, “Till we meet again, even if it's not for a while.”

  106

  “THERE'S NO one here but the staff!”

  “That's because the day's hardly over. The patrons usually arrive with the night. Does the emptiness of the place upset you?”

  “Not at all. It encourages me to stay, especially since it's the first time.”

  “Barshere have the priceless advantage of being situated on a street frequented only by people in search of forbidden pleasures. No scolding critic will trouble your peace of mind. If someone you respect like your father or guardian stumbles upon you, he's more at fault than you are and more apt to pretend he doesn't know you, or even to flee if he can.”

  “The name of the street itself is scandalous.”

  “But that makes it safer than any other. If we go to a bar on Alfi, Imad al-Din, or even Muhammad Ali streets, we could be seen by a father, brother, uncle, or some other important person. But they don't come here to Wajh al-Birka, hopefully.”

  “That makes sense, but I'm still uncomfortable.”

  “Be patient. The first step's always difficult, but alcohol's the key to joy. I promise you'll find the world a sweeter and more charming place by the time we depart.”

  “Tell me about the different kinds of drinks. What should I start with?”

  “Cognac's strong. If it's mixed with beer, a person drinking it's as good as gone. Whiskey has an acceptable taste and produces excellent effects. Raisin liqueur…”

  “That should be the most enjoyable! Haven't you heard Salih
sing 'He poured me raisin liqueur'?”

  “For a long time I've told you the only thing wrong with you is that you live in a fantasy world. Raisin liqueur's the worst drink of all, no matter what Salih says. It tastes like anise and upsets my digestion. Don't interrupt.”

  “Sorry!”

  “Then there's beer, but that's a hot-weather drink, and, praise God, it's September. There's wine too, but its effect is like a slap from a Ditch.”

  “So … so … it's whiskey.”

  “Braao! For a long time I've had great hopes for you. Perhaps you'll soon agree you have an even greater aptitude for fun than for truth, goodness, beauty, nationalism, humanitarianism, and all the other fancy items over which you've pointlessly exhausted your heart”. He called the waiter and ordered two whiskeys.

  “The wisest thing would be for me to stop after one glass.”

  “That might be wise, but we didn't come here in search of wisdom. You'll learn for yourself that delirium's more pleasant than wisdom and that there's more to life than books and thought. Remember this day and don't forget who's to thank for it.”

  “I don't want to pass out. I'm afraid ofthat.”

  “Be your own physician.”

  “For me the important thing is to find the courage to walk down that alley with no hesitation and to enter one of those houses when I need to ….”

  “Drink till you feel unconcerned about going in one.”

  “Fine. I hope I won't live to regret what I've done.”

  “Regret? I asked you repeatedly, but you excused yourself on religious grounds. Then you proclaimed you'd stopped believing in religion. So I renewed my invitation but was amazed to find you refusing in the name of morality. I must admit you finally bowed to logic.”

  Yes, at last he had… after a long period of anxiety and apprehension, when he was torn between the ascetic skepticism of Abu al-Ala al-Ma'arri and the more hedonistic version of Umar al-Khayyam. He was naturally inclined toward the former doctrine, although it preached a stern and sober life, because of its compatibility with the traditions in which he had been raised. But before he had known what was happening, he had found his soul longing for annihilation. A mysterious voice had whispered in his ear, “There's no religion, no Aida, and no hope. So let death come”. At that juncture, al-Khayyam had appealed to him, using this friend as an intermediary, and Kamal had accepted their invitation. All the same, he had retained his lofty principles by broadening the range of meaning for “goodness” to include all the joys of life. He had told himself, “Belief in truth, beauty, and humanity is merely the highest form of goodness. For this reason, the great philosopher Ibn Sina concluded each day of deep thought with drinks and beautiful women. In any case, only a life like this offers an alternative to death.”