Palace Walk tct-1

by Naguib Mahfouz

  Avoiding al-Sayyid Ahmad’s eyes by looking at the desk, Muhammad Iffat replied, "I have not come to blame you or to criticize you. You are a model father who can be imitated but never equaled. But that does not alter the distressing fact that Yasin has not turned out the way you wished. In his current condition he is not fit for married life".

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad protested, "Not so fast, Mr. Muhammad".

  The other man corrected himself while remaining resolute: "In any case, he is not a fit husband for my daughter. He will find some woman who accepts him with his faults, but not her. My daughter was not made for this. You know better than anyone how I feel about her".

  The proprietor moved his head close to his friend’s and said in a low voice and with a hint of a smile, "Yasin’s not unusual as husbands go. Lots of them get drunk and boisterous and do things they shouldn't".

  Muhammad Iffat frowned to make it clear he would not allow the situation to be turned into a joke. He answered sternly, "If you're referring to our group or to me in particular, it is true that I get drunk, become rowdy, and take lovers, but I refrain from wallowing in the mud. We all do. A black maid… Is my daughter destined to share a husband with her in a polygamous marriage? By the Lord of Heaven, no. She will not be Yasin’s wife and he will not be Zaynab’s husband".

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad perceived that Muhammad Iffat, perhaps like his daughter, might be ready to forgive many things, but not Yasin’s attempt to have both the girl and her black maid. He knew Muhammad Iffat was of Turkish descent and stubborn as a mule. He happened to recall the words of his friend Ibrahim al-Far the day he told him he was asking for Zaynab’s hand for his son Yasin. The man had observed, "She’s a fine girl from a good family. Muhammad is our brother and friend. His daughter is our daughter. But have you thought carefully about the girl’s status with her father? Have you considered the fact that Muhammad Iffat does not allow the tiniest speck of dust to settle on her?" Although that was true, al-Sayyid Ahmad had found it difficult to judge matters by any standards but his own and had always boasted that Muhammad Iffat, despite his atrocious temper, had never gotten angry with him even once throughout their long friendship.

  He said, "Take it easy. Don't you see we're all made of the same stuff, even if the details differ? A black maid and a female vocalist-aren't they both women?"

  Muhammad Iffat flew into a rage. He pounded on the edge of the desk with his fist. He burst out: "You don't mean what you're saying. A servant’s a servant and a lady’s a lady. Why don't you take servants for mistresses then? Yasin’s not like you. I'm sorry my daughter’s pregnant by him. I hate for my grandchild to have such filth in his veins".

  The last sentence stung al-Sayyid Ahmad and he was enraged, but he was able to suppress his anger by using the forbearance he lavished on his acquaintances and friends, the strength of which was matched only by that of his irascibility with his family. He replied calmly, "I would like to suggest that we postpone this conversation to some other time".

  Muhammad Iffat said angrily, "I want my request carried out immediately".

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad was extremely vexed. There was nothing unsavory about divorce as a solution, but he was apprehensive about his lifelong friendship, and it was hard for him to admit defeat. Was he not the man whose mediation people requested to settle disputes and mend quarrels between friends and spouses? How could he accept defeat and divorce when he was defending his own son? What good were his forbearance, diplomacy, and finesse?

  "I attempted to strengthen our friendship through this marriage tie between our families. How can I accept a weakening?"

  His visitor answered disapprovingly, "Our friendship is not in doubt… We're not children, but my honor is not going to be sullied".

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad asked gently, "What will people say about a marriage that doesn't even last a year?"

  Muhammad Iffat replied haughtily, "No intelligent person will blame my daughter".

  Oh… once again, a new insult, but he met it with the same forbearance. His annoyance at failing to achieve a reconciliation seemed to have eclipsed that aroused by the angry man’s words. He was not nearly so concerned about the blast directed against him as about justifying his own lack of success. He began to console himself with the thought that the divorce was in his hands alone. If he wanted to, he could grant it. If he did not, he could prevent it. Muhammad Iffat knew that perfectly well. It was for this reason he had come to ask for it in the name of their friendship, which was the only mediator he had to fall back on. If al-Sayyid Ahmad said no, that would settle the matter. The girl would return to his son, voluntarily or involuntarily. Their lengthy friendship would be in the past tense. If he said yes, the divorce would take place, but the friendship would be preserved and he would have the credit for doing his friend a favor. In the future, it would not be difficult to bring all these considerations into play to reunite what had been severed. Although the divorce was a defeat, it was a temporary one, which clearly demonstrated his goodwill and nobility. In time it might turn into a victory. Once he was even partially reassured about his position, he felt a desire to criticize his friend for taking him for granted. He warned him, "The divorce will not take place without my consent… Do you disagree?… I will not reject your request, if you are still determined to proceed with it, out of respect for you and the friendship you slighted when you spoke to me…"

  Muhammad Iffat sighed, either from relief at achieving the desired result or in protest against his friend’s criticism, or both. Then with a voice free of the sharp edge of anger for the first time, he said resolutely, "I told you a thousand times that our friendship was not in jeopardy. You haven't wronged me in any way. To the contrary, you have honored me by granting my request, although you didn't want to".

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad echoed his words sadly, "Yes… I didn't want to".

  The moment his visitor passed from sight, al-Sayyid Ahmad’s resentment flared up. His suppressed rage exploded, encompassing himself, Muhammad Iffat, and Yasin, especially Yasin. He asked himself whether the friendship would really remain secure and not be muddied by events to come. Oh… he would have spared no expense to protect himself from a rude jolt like this… But it was all because of Turkish obstinacy. No… the devil, no… Yasin… Yasin, not anyone else.

  He told his son angrily and scornfully, "You have spoiled the purity of a friendship no number of days would have been able to harm, even if they had conspired to that goal".

  After repeating to Yasin what Muhammad Iffat had said, he concluded: "You have disappointed my hopes in you so much that only God and His blessings can ever repay me. I raised and disciplined you. I watched over you… Then all my efforts lead to what?… An alcoholic wretch who talks himself into raping the most humble servant in his family’s home. There is no power or might save with God. I never imagined that my discipline would produce a son like you. Everything is in God’s hands, the past and the future. What can I do with you? If you were a juvenile, I'd smash your head in, but time will certainly take care of that. You'll receive your just deserts. Decent families will wash their hands of you and let you go for a song".

  He may have been sorry for his son, but his anger got the upper hand. Then all he could feel was contempt. Although Yasin was virile, handsome, and large, he no longer brought delight to his father’s eyes. He wallowed in the mud, as Muhammad Iffat (may God destroy him) had observed. Yasin had been too weak to tame an unruly woman. How callow he was. His recklessness had soon been rewarded by a degrading disaster from which he had been unable to save himself. How contemptible he was! Let him get drunk, carouse, and take lovers, on condition that he remain the unchallenged master of his family. But his shameful defeat made him seem totally contemptible to his father. As Muhammad Iffat (may God destroy him) had also observed: Yasin was not like him.

  "I do what I want and still I'm al-Sayyid Ahmad. That’s all there is to it. What a fine idea it was for me to try to rear my sons to be outstanding examples of rectitude and purity, si
nce it would be difficult for them to balance my lifestyle with my honor and rectitude. But, alas, my effort was in vain with this son by Haniya".

  "Did you agree, Father?" Yasin’s voice reverberated like a death rattle.

  "Yes," he answered gruffly, "to preserve a long-lasting friendship and because it was the best solution, at least for now".

  Yasin’s hand began to contract into a fist and then unfold, in a mechanical, nervous gesture. The blood drained from his face until he looked extremely pale. He felt more humiliated by this than by anything else in his life except his mother’s conduct. His father-in-law was asking for a divorce! In other words, Zaynab was requesting one or at least consenting to one… Which of them was the man and which the woman? There was nothing strange about a man casting out a pair of shoes, but shoes were not supposed to throw away their owner. How could his father agree to this unprecedented humiliation for him? He glared at his father harshly but also in a way that reflected the cries for help surging in his breast. In a voice he desperately strove to keep free of any hint of protest or objection, as though trying to remind his father there might be a more appropriate solution, he remarked, "A husband has legal means of forcing a wife to return and obey him if she’s rebellious…"

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad sensed what his son was going through and was touched. Therefore he shared some of his own thoughts with him. He told him, "I know that, but I've decided we should be generous. Muhammad Iffat has an inflexible, Turkish mentality but a heart of gold. This is not the last word. It’s not the end. I'm not forgetting your welfare, even though you don't deserve it. Let me proceed as I wish".

  "As you wish," Yasin thought. "Who has ever gone against your wishes? You marry me and divorce me. You give me life and take it away. I don't really exist. Khadija, Aisha, Fahmy, Yasin… all the same thing. We're nothing. You're everything. No… There’s a limit. I'm no longer a child. I'm just as much a man as you are. I'm the one who is going to decide my destiny. I'm the man who will grant the divorce or have her legally confined to my house until she’s ready to obey me. Muhammad Iffat, Zaynab, and your friendship with her father can all lick the dust from my shoes".

  "What’s the matter? Don't you have anything to say?"

  Without hesitation, Yasin answered, "Whatever you want, Father".

  "What a life! What a household! What a father!" Yasin reflected. "Scoldings, discipline, and advice… Scold yourself. Discipline yourself. Give yourself some advice. Have you forgotten Zubayda? Jalila? The music and the wine? After all that, you appear before us wearing the turban of the most authoritative Muslim legal scholar, the Shaykh al-Islam, and carrying the sword of the Caliph, the Commander of all Muslims… I'm not a child anymore. Look after yourself and leave me and my affairs alone. 'Marry.' Whatever you say, sir. 'Divorce.' Whatever you say, sir… Curses on your father".

  61

  The intensity of the demonstrations decreased in the Husayn district after the British soldiers occupied it, and al-Sayyid Ahmad was able to resume a favorite custom he had temporarily been forced to curtail, that of attending the Friday prayer service at al-Husayn Mosque, accompanied by his sons. It was a practice he had scrupulously observed for a long period. He had invited his sons to join him, when they were old enough, in order to direct their hearts toward religion early in life. He hoped it would be a blessing to him, his sons, and the entire family. Amina was the only one with reservations about this caravan that set out at the end of each week, consisting of her three men, as big as camels, resplendent and virile. She watched them through the balcony peephole and imagined that everyone was staring enviously at them. In her alarm, she prayed to God to spare them the dangers of the evil eye. One day she felt compelled to confide her fears to her husband, who seemed swayed by her warning momentarily but did not yield. He told her, "The blessing of the religious duty we fulfill by attending the Friday prayer service is sufficient protection against any evil".

  Since childhood, Fahmy had cheerfully obeyed the summons to attend the Friday service with a heart eager to perform his religious duties. He was motivated not only by his father but by sincere religious sentiment, enlightened by views drawn from the teachings of the influential Egyptian theologian Muhammad Abduh and his disciples. He was the only one in the family to adopt a skeptical attitude toward incantations, charms, amulets, and the amazing deeds performed by saints. His mild temperament kept him from making his doubts public or announcing his disdain for such things. He accepted without protest the amulets from Shaykh Mutawalli Abd al-Samad that his father brought him from time to time.

  Yasin complied with his father’s request to attend prayers with him because he had no alternative. Left to his own devices he might never have thought of squeezing his huge body in among the masses of worshippers, not from any religious doubt but from laziness and a lack of interest. On Fridays, Yasin suffered from a special distress all morning. When it was time to go to the mosque he grumpily put on his suit. He followed behind his father like a prisoner, but gradually as he approached the mosque his grouchiness decreased. By the time he entered the sanctuary he felt at peace with the world and performed the prayer, asking God to forgive him and pardon his sins. He would not ask for repentance, since he secretly feared his prayer might be granted and he would be turned into an ascetic with no taste for the pleasures of life he loved and without which he thought life would be meaningless. He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that repentance was a necessity and that he could not be pardoned without it. He just hoped it would come at an appropriate time so he could have full enjoyment of both this world and the next. Therefore, despite his laziness and grumbling, in the end he praised the circumstances that forced him to perform a religious duty as important as the Friday prayer. In the final reckoning, it might erase some of his bad deeds and lighten the burden of his sins, especially since it was virtually the only religious duty he did perform.

  Kamal had just recently been invited to join them, when he became ten. He obeyed the summons proudly, cockily, and happily. He sensed that the invitation implied recognition of him as a person and almost put him on a par with Fahmy, Yasin, and even his father. He was particularly pleased to follow in his father’s footsteps without having to dread some punishment from him. He stood beside him as an equal in the mosque, where everyone copied the motions of the same imam or prayer leader. At home when he prayed, he was totally absorbed in the experience to a degree he could not attain at the Friday prayer service. There he was nervous about performing his prayers surrounded by so many people and apprehensive that he might slip up in some manner his father would detect. When he was in the mosque, the intensity of his devotion to al-Husayn, whom he loved more than himself, also interfered with giving the kind of total attention to God that a person should when praying.

  Thus they appeared on al-Nahhasin Street walking briskly toward Bayt al-Qadi, al-Sayyid Ahmad in front with Yasin, Fahmy, and Kamal following in a line behind him. They found places in the mosque and sat listening to the sermon in total silence, their heads craned to see the pulpit. Although the father listened attentively, he was also praying silently. His heart reached out to Yasin in particular, since he thought the young man deserved compassion after his false steps. He prayed to God at length to reform Yasin, straighten him out, and compensate him for everything he had lost. The sermon directed his attention to his own sins, sweeping aside all other considerations. He found himself directly confronted by them. They were given such terrifying vividness by the penetrating and resonant voice of the preacher that al-Sayyid Ahmad imagined he was singling him out and screaming into his ears at the top of his voice. He would not have been surprised to hear the preacher address him by name: "Ahmad, restrain yourself from evil. Cleanse yourself of fornication and wine. Repent and return to God your Lord".

  He was troubled by anxiety and doubt just as he had been the day Shaykh Mutawalli Abd al-Samad had argued with him. He usually was not affected this way by the sermon, for he would become distracted, praying f
or pardon, forgiveness, and mercy. Like his son Yasin, he did not pray for repentance, or if he did it was only with his tongue and not his heart. If his tongue said, "O God, repentance," his heart limited its request to pardon, forgiveness, and mercy. They seemed to be a pair of musical instruments playing together in a single orchestra but rendering different tunes. He could not imagine viewing life in any other fashion than the way it actually appeared to him. Whenever anxiety and doubt threatened to gain control of him, he would rise to defend himself against them, putting his defense in the form of a prayer or a plea for forgiveness. He would say, "O God, You know my heart, my faith, and my love. God, increase my dedication to the performance of my religious duties and my ability to do good deeds. O God, a good deed outweighs ten others. God, You are forgiving and merciful". With such a prayer he would gradually recover his peace of mind.

  Yasin did not have this ability to reconcile his piety and his practice or did not feel in need of it. He never thought about it. He wandered through life just as he wanted, believing in God in exactly the same way he believed in his own existence. He would surrender himself to the flow of life, not opposing or resisting it. When the preacher’s words reached his ears, he prayed mechanically for mercy and forgiveness with complete peace of mind, for he felt no real danger. God was too merciful to cause a Muslim like himself to burn in hell for transitory lapses that harmed no one. And there was always repentance… It would come one day and erase everything that had preceded it.