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

by Naguib Mahfouz

  When Abd al-Muni'm asked his father to join him there, Khadija raised her head to inquire, “Good news?”

  “I want to talk to Father first. Then it will be your turn.”

  Ibrahim Shawkat trailed after his son silently. The man had recently gotten a new set of dentures. His languid complacency had returned, after he had been forced to confront life in a toothless condition for six whole months. They sat down beside each other, and the father asked, “Good news, God willing?”

  Without any hesitation or introduction, Abd al-Muni'm said, “Father, I want to marry.”

  The man stared at his son's face and then knit his brows jovially as though he had not understood. After shaking hishead in a bafiled way, he remarked, “Marriage? There's a right time for everything. Why are you speaking about this now?”

  “I want to get married now.”

  “Now? You're only eighteen. Won't you wait until you get your degree?

  “ 1 ca/i t.

  Then the door opened, and Khadija entered. “What's happening behind this door?” she asked. “Are there secrets you can tell your father but not me?”

  Abd al-Muni'm frowned nervously. Ibrahim, who scarcely understood the meaning of his own words, answered, “Abd al-Muni'm wants to get married.”

  Khacija scrutinized her husband as though fearing he had gone insane. She cried out, “Get married! What do I hear? Have you decided to leave the University?”

  In an angry, forceful voice, Abd al-Muni'm responded, “I said I want to marry, not that I'm dropping out of school. I'll continue my studies as a married man. That's all there is to it.”

  Looking back and forth from one to the other, Khadija asked, “Abd al-Muni'm, are you really serious?”

  He shouted, “Absolutely!”

  The woman struck her hands together and riposted, “The evil eye has struck you. What's happened to your brain, son?”

  Abd al-Muni'm stood up angrily. He asked, “What brings you here? I wanted to speak privately with my father first, but you don't know what patience is. Listen! I want to get married. I have two more years before I finish my studies. Father, you can support me for these two years. If I weren't sure ofthat, I would not have made this request.”

  Khadija said, “God's grace! They've destroyed his mind.”

  “Who has?”

  “God knows best who they are. I'll let Him take care of them. You shouldn't have any doubts as to their identity, and we'll soon learn.”

  The young man told his father, “Don't listen to her. Even now I have no idea what girl will be mine. Choose her yourselves. I want a suitable bride, any bride.”

  Flabbergasted, she asked him, “Do you mean there's not some special girl who is the cause of this whole calamity?”

  “Absolutely not. Believe me. Choose for me yourself.”

  “Why are you in such a hurry then? I'll select someone for you. Give me a little time. Say a year or two?”

  Raising his voice, he said, “I'm not joking. Leave me alone. He understands me better than you do.”

  His father asked him calmly, “Why the rush?”

  Lowering his gaze, Abd al-Muni'm answered, “I can't wait any longer.”

  Khadija inquired, “How come thousands of other young men like you can?”

  The boy told his father, “I'm not willing to do what they do.”

  Ibrahim thought a little. To put an end to this scene he said, “That's enough for now. We'll continue this discussion another time.”

  Khadija started to say something, but her husband stopped her and took her by the hand. The couple left the study to resume their places in the sitting room, where they went over the topic, considering it from every angle. After a lot of give-and-take, Ibrahim felt inclined to support his son's request. He took it upon himself to convince his wife. Once she had accepted the notion in principle, Ibrahim said, “We have Na'ima, my niece. We won't need to tire ourselves out searching for a bride.”

  Capitulating, Khadija said, “I'm the one who persuaded you to renounce your share of your late brother's estate for Aisha's sake. So I have no objection to the choice of Na'ima as a bride for my son. I'm very concerned about Aisha's happiness, as you know. But I'm afraid of her melancholy brooding and am very apprehensive about her eccentric behavior. Haven't you hinted to her repeatedly that we would like Na'ima to marry Abd al-Muni'm? All the same I think she was ready to accept Jamil al-Hamzawi's son when al-Hamzawi proposed it.”

  “That's ancient history. A year or more has passed since then, and praise God nothing has come of it. No matter how good a position he has, it would have done me no honor to have a young man like that marry my niece. As far as I'm concerned, a man's family origin is everything, and Na'ima is very dear to us.”

  Sighing, Khadija agreed, “Very, very dear. What do you suppose my father will say about this foolishness when he learns of it?”

  Ibrahim replied, “I'm sure he'll welcome it. Everything about it seems like a dream, but I won't regret it. I'm positive that it would be an unforgivable error to ignore Abd al-Muni'm's request, so long as it's within our power to grant it.”

  133

  NO CHANGES worth mentioning had taken place at the old house on Palace Walk, but the neighbors Hasanayn the barber, Darwish the bean seller, al-Fuli the milkman, Abu Sari', who ran the snack shop, and Bayumi, who sold fruit drinks - had all learned in one way or another that al-Sayyid Ahmad's granddaughter was to marry her double first cousin Abd al-Muni'm today. Al-Sayyid Ahmad did not break with his time-honored traditions, and the day passed like any other one. Only members of the family were invited, and the day's major activity was preparation of the dinner banquet.

  It was at the beginning of summer, and they were all assembled in the parlor: al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad, Amina, Khadija, Ibrahim Shawkat, Abd al-Muni'm, Ahmad, Yasin, Zanuba, Rid-wan, and Karima. The only two family members missing were Na'ima, who was adorning herself on the top floor, and Aisha, who washelping her. Sensing that his presence might dampen their spirits at this festive family reunion, al-Sayyid Ahmad went off to his room shortly after welcoming everyone and waited there for the religious official to arrive.

  He had liquidated his business and sold the store, choosing to retire, not merely because he was sixty-five but also because Jamil al-Hamzawi's resignation had forced him to assume much of the work at a time when he was no longer up to it. Thushe had decided to retire, contenting himself with his savings and what he had gotten from closing out his store. He calculated that this amount would suffice for the rest of his days. His retirement had been an important milestone in the life of the family. Kamal had begun to wonder whether they had not underestimated the role Jamil al-Hamzawi had played in all their lives and especially in their father's.

  Alone in his room, al-Sayyid Ahmad silently pondered the events of the day, as if he could not believe that the bridegroom was his grandson Abd al-Muni'm. He had been amazed and incredulous the day Ibrahim Shawkat had raised the matter with him.

  “How could you allow your son to speak to you so bluntly and to impose his will on you?” he had wanted to know. “Fathers like you are spoiling the next generation.”

  He would have said no, had it not been for the delicacy of the circumstances. Out of consideration for Aisha's misery, he had renounced his customary stubbornness, since he could not bear to disappoint her, especially after all the little comments provoked by Fuad al-Hamzawi's silence. If Na'ima's marriage would lessen the anguish of Aisha'sheart, then welcome to it. His distress had prompted him to grant his consent, and he had allowed children to force their wishes on adults and to marry before finishing their education. He had summoned Abd al-Muni'm and had made him promise to complete his studies. Citing passages from the Qur'an and from reports of the Prophet's life, Abd al-Muni'm had offered an eloquent defense, setting his grandfather's mind at ease, while arousing in the patriarch feelings of both admiration and contempt. So today the schoolboy was getting married, while Kamal had not yet thought o
f it - although al-Sayyid Ahmad had once refused even to announce the engagement of his late son Fahmy, who had died before enjoying the prime of his youth. The cosmos seemed to have turned upside down. Another extraordinary world had sprung up in its place.

  “We're strangers even among our own kinsfolk,” he thought. “Today, schoolboys marry. Who knows what they'll do tomorrow?”

  In the parlor, Khadija was concluding a lengthy monologue: “And that's why we moved everyone out of the second floor. Tonight it will look its best when it receives the newlyweds.”

  Yasin told her impishly, “You have everything it takes to be an outstanding mother-in-law. But you'll be unable to exploit your extraordinary talents with this bride.”

  Although she fully understood his allusion, she ignored it and said, “The bride is my daughter and my sister's daughter.”

  To soften the impact of Yasin's jest, Zanuba commented, “Mrs. Khadija is a perfect lady”. Khadija thanked her. Despite a secret dislike for this sister-in-law, Khadija responded thankfully and respectfully to her ingratiating remarks, for Yasin's sake.

  Karima at ten was already pretty enough for Yasin to make proud forecasts about her future feminine charms. Abd al-Muni'm was cotiversing with his grandmother, Amina, who was always impressed by his piety. She would occasionally interrupt his comments to invoke God's blessings on him.

  Kamal teased Ahmad: “Are you getting married next year?”

  “Unless I follow your example, Uncle.”

  Zanuba, who was listening, said, “If Mr. Kamal will give me permission, I promise to have him married off in a matter of days.”

  Pointing to himself, Yasin said, “I'm ready to let you find a bride for me.”

  Shaking her head scornfully, she replied, “You've been married more than enough. You've had your share of brides and your brother's share too.”

  Attracted by the topic of this conversation, Amina told Zanuba, “If you get Kamal married, I'll trill with joy for the first time in my life.”

  When he tried to picture his mother trilling joyfully, Kamal laughed. Then he imagined himself in the place of Abd al-Muni'm, waiting for the Islamic notary, and fell silent. The thought of marriage stirred up a whirlpool of emotions deep inside him as surely as winter's humidity troubles the breathing of an asthmatic. Although he categorically rejected the idea of marriage, he could not ignore it. Hisheart was free, but he found this emptiness as nerve-racking as being in love. If he did decide to marry now, his only recourse would be the traditional process beginning with a matchmaker and ending with a household, children, and immersion in the mechanics of daily life. After that, no matter how much a person wanted to, he would scarcely be able to find time for reflection. Kamal would always view marriage with a strange mixture of longing and aversion.

  “The end of your life will be nothing but loneliness and despair,” he warned himself.

  The truly happy person that day was Aisha. For the first time in nine years she had put on a pretty dress and had braided her hair. Now with dreamy eyes she was looking at her daughter, who was as beautiful as a moonbeam. As her tears began to flow, Aisha hid her own pale withered face from her daughter. At that moment, finding her weeping, Amina gave Aisha a critical look and said, “It's not right for Na'ima to leave the house with a sad heart.”

  Aisha sobbed, “Don't you see that she's alone today, without a father or a brother?”

  Amina replied, “That makes her mother all the more important. May our Lord grant the mother a long life, for the girl's sake… and she's going to her aunt and uncle. Besides, she has God, the creator of the whole universe, to watch over her.”

  Drying her eyes, Aisha said, “From daybreak on, I'm inundated with memories of my departed loved ones. I can see their faces. Once she's gone I'll be all alone.”

  Amina scolded her, “You're not alone!”

  Na'ima patted her mother's cheek and asked, “How can I leave you, Mama?”

  Aisha smiled and answered sympathetically, “Your new household will show you how.”

  Na'ima said anxiously, “You'll visit every day. You've avoided going anywhere near Sugar Street, but from now on you'll have to change that.”

  “Of course. Do you doubt it?”

  Then Kamal came to tell them, “Get ready. The marriage clerk has arrived.”

  His eyes fastened on Na'ima admiringly. “How beautiful, delicate, and ethereal,” he thought. “What role can animal desires and needs play in this exquisite creature?”

  On learning that the marriage contract had been executed, they all exchanged congratulations. Then a shrieking trill of joy shattered the somber decorum of the household and reverberated through its still reaches. Their astonished faces discovered Umm Hanafi standing at the end of the sitting room.

  When it was time for the dinner banquet and the guests started making their way to the table, Aisha found that she had no appetite and felt depressed, for she could think of nothing but the imminent separation.

  Umm Hanafi announced that Shaykh Mutawalli Abd al-Samad was sitting on the ground in the courtyard and that he had asked for some supper, especially for a good selection from the different meat dishes. Al-Sayyid Ahmad laughed and ordered her to prepare a tray and carry it to him. Immediately thereafter, they heard the shaykh's voice calling up from the courtyard, praying that his beloved Ahmad ibn Abd al-Jawad would have a long life. He could also be heard asking the names of al-Sayyid Ahmad's children and grandchildren so he could offer prayers on their behalf too.

  Smiling, al-Sayyid Ahmad commented, “What a pity! Shaykh Mutawalli has forgotten your names. May God be indulgent with the infirmities of old age.”

  Ibrahim Shawkat said, “He's a hundred, isn't he?”

  Ahmad Abd al-Jawad agreed. Then the shaykh's voice cried out, “In the name of the martyr al-Husayn, be generous with the meat.”

  Al-Sayyid laughed and said, “His holy powers are concentrated on meat today.”

  When it was time to say farewell, Kamal went down to the courtyard before the others to avoid the spectacle. Although Na'ima was only moving to Sugar Street, that deeply troubled her heart and her mother's. Kamal himself felt skeptical about this wedding, for he doubted that Na'ima was strong enough for married life. In the courtyard he saw Shaykh Mutawalli Abd al-Samad sitting on the ground under the electric light attached to the wall of the house to illuminate the area. The old man's legs were stretched out, and he had removed his sandals. Wearing a discolored white shirt that went down to his ankles and a white skullcap, he leaned against the wall as if sleeping off his meal. Kamal noticed water flowing down the man's legs and realized that he was incontinent. Resounding like a whistle, the man's breathing was clearly audible. Kamal stared at him with a mixture of disdain and disgust. Then a thought made him smile in spite of himself. He reflected, “Perhaps in 1830 he was a pampered child.”

  134

  THE VERY next day Aisha went to call at Sugar Street. During the nine previous years, except for a few visits to Palace of Desire Alley when Yasin had lost a child, she had left the old house only to visit the cemetery. She stopped for a moment at the entrance to look around, and her eyes filled with tears. Uthman's and Muhammad's feet had frequently run and skipped there by the doorway. The courtyard had once been decorated for her glorious wedding. That was the reception room where Khalil had smoked his water pipe and played backgammon or dominoes. Here the sweet fragrance of the past was redolent of lost love and tenderness. She had been so joyful that her happiness had been proverbial. Called the merry soprano, she had been accused of flirting with her mirror and of consorting with her dressing table. Her husband had uttered sweet nothings and the children had scampered about … in those bygone days. She dried her eyes so she would not meet the bride that way. These eyes were still blue, even though the eyelashes had fallen out and the eyelids seemed withered. She found the apartment newly outfitted and painted, resplendent with the bride's furnishings, on which a considerable amount had been spent. Wearing
a diaphanous white frock, her golden hair hanging down to her knees, Na'ima greeted her mother. The bride was serene, charming, and immaculate, and her perfume had a haunting fragrance.

  Their long affectionate embrace lasted until Abd al-Muni'm, calmly waiting his turn in a blue-green robe that enveloped his silk house shirt, protested, “That's enough! Just say hello to each other. A nominal separation like this merits nothing more.”

  Then he embraced his aunt and escorted her to a cozy chair. As she sat down, he remarked, “We were just thinking of you, Aunt. We have decided to invite you to come live with us.”

  Aisha smiled as she answered, “Anything but that. I'll visit you every day. This will give me an excuse for a walk. I really need more exercise.”

  With his customary candor, Abd al-Muni'm said, “Sweet Na'ima has told me that you can't bear to stay here for fear of being overcome by memories. But a Believer need not fall prey to sad thoughts. What happened was God's will, and it was a long time ago. God has sent us as a consolation for you.”

  “Though this young man,” Aisha reflected, “is frank and good-hearted, he is cavalier about the impact of his words on wounded hearts.”

  “Of course, Abd al-Muni'm,” she said. “But I'm comfortable at home. It's better this way.”

  Then Khadija, Ibrahim, and Ahmad entered and shook hands with Aisha. Khadija told her sister, “If I had realized this would make you start visiting us again I would have had them married even before they were old enough.”

  Aisha laughed. Reminding Khadija of distant times, she asked, “A single kitchen? Or does the bride demand to be independent of her mother-in-law?”

  Khadija and Ibrahim both laughed. In a tone that was not free of insinuation, Khadija answered, “Like her mother, she isn't concerned about such silly things.”

  For his sons' sake, Ibrahim explained Aisha's obscure reference: “The battles between your mother and mine began with the kitchen, which my mother monopolized. Your mother demanded one of her own.”