Sugar Street tct-3

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Sugar Street tct-3 Page 8

by Naguib Mahfouz


  With an interest Ridwan did not attempt to conceal he said, "Yes. But who ishe?"

  "Abd al-Rahim Pasha Isa!"

  Ridwan thought a little before murmuring, "I saw him once from a distance."

  "Well, this was the first time he noticed you."

  There was an inquisitive look on Ridwan's face. Hilmi went on: "After you left, he asked me about you, requesting that I introduce you to him as soon as possible."

  Ridwan smiled and then said, "Tell me everything you know."

  Patting his friend's shoulder, Hilmi said, "He called me over and with his normal effervescence by the way, he is very entertaining asked, 'Who was that beauty conversing with you?' I told him you were a fellow student in the Law School, a longtime friend, and named so-and-so. With evident interest he asked, 'When will you introduce him to me?' Pretending not to understand the reason for his interest, I asked in turn, 'Why, Pasha?' He burst out with feigned anger his lively wit occasionally carries him to such extremes — and said, 'To give him a lesson in religion, you son of a bitch.' I laughed till he put a hand over my mouth'

  During the pause that followed they could hear the wind howling outside. A shutter banged against the wall. Then Ridwan spoke up: "I've heard a lot about him. Doeshe live up to his billing?"

  "And more."

  "But he's an old man!"

  With inaudible laughter sparkling on his face, Hilmi Izzat said, "That's hardly significant, for he's an important man who is debonair and influential. It may well be that his age makes him more useful than if he were young."

  Ridwan smiled again and asked, "Where doeshe live?"

  "In a quiet villa in Helwan."

  "It must be swarming with petitioners from all classes of society…."

  "We'll be his disciples. Why not? He's a senior statesman and we're novices."

  Ridwan asked rather cautiously, "How about his wife and children?"

  "What an ignoramus you are! He's single. He's never been married and has no taste for that kind of life. He was an only child and lives alone with his servants, like a branch torn from a tree. Once you've met him, you'll never be able to forget him."

  They exchanged a long, smiling, conspiratorial look. Finally Hilmi said a bit anxiously, "Please ask me, 'When are we going to visit him?'"

  Looking at the tea leaves in his glass, Ridwan repeated, "When are we going to visit him?"

  124

  Located at the corner of al-Najat Street in Helwan, the home of Abd al-Rahim Pasha Isa was of exemplary simplicity and elegance. A one-story brown villa three meters high, it was entered through a gentlemen's parlor and was surrounded by a flower garden. The house, the street, and the neighborhood were refreshingly quiet. Seated on a bench by the gate were the doorman — a Nubian with a handsome face and a slender figure — and the chauffeur, an attractive youth with rosy cheeks.

  Looking toward the parlor, Hilmi Izzat whispered to Ridwan, "The pasha has kept his promise. We're the only visitors today!"

  Hilmi Izzat was known to the doorman and the chauffeur, who stood up to greet him politely. When he joked with them, they showed no embarrassment about bursting into laughter.

  Although dry, the weather was bitterly cold. They went into a magnificent reception hall with a large picture of Sa'd Zaghlul in ceremonial attire on the center wall. Hilmi Izzat turned toward a mirror extending all the way to the ceiling on the right-hand wall to cast a long and searching look at his appearance. Ridwan was quick to join him, examining his own reflection with equal care. At last Hilmi Izzat said, "Two splendid moons in suits and fezzes. All those who love the Prophet's handsome appearance should pray for him."

  They sat down beside each other on a gilded sofa with a stunning blue cover. After a few minutes they heard something behind the curtain hanging in the large doorway beneath the portrait of Sa'd Zaghlul. His heart beating with excitement, Ridwan turned to look that way. A man wearing a pleasant cologne and an elegant black suit appeared at once. Clean-shaven, slender, and rather tall, he had fine features marked by age, a dark brown complexion, and small languid eyes. His fez was slanted so far forward that it almost touched his eyebrows. Calm and dignified, he came toward them with slow steady steps. He had a reassuring but awe-inspiring impact on the young man'sheart. Silent until he stopped before the two boys, who stood up to greet him, he examined them with a penetrating look that rested on Ridwan long enough to make the young man's eyelids twitch. Then the pasha smiled suddenly. The attractive affability shining from his face lessened the distance between them until it was indiscernible. Hilmi held out his hand, which the man took and held. The pasha puckered up his lips and waited. Noticing what he had in mind, Hilmi quickly presented his cheek, which the man kissed.

  The pasha looked in Ridwan's direction and said in a delicate tone, "Don't take offense, my son. This is my way of greeting people."

  Ridwan held out his hand shyly. The man took it and laughingly asked, "And your cheek?"

  Ridwan blushed. Pointing to himself, Hilmi cried out, "Your Excellency, you need to negotiate that with his guardian."

  Abd al-Rahim Pasha laughed and contented himself with a handshake. After inviting them to have a seat, he sat down in a large armchair nearby. With a smile he said, "You have a damn fool for a guardian, Ridwan isn't that your name? Welcome! I noticed you fraternizing with this naughty boy. I wanted to meet you, because I was enchanted by your manners. And you've been good enough not to begrudge me this pleasure."

  "I'm happy to have the honor of meeting you, Your Excellency."

  Turning a large gold ring around the finger of his left hand, the man said, "Asking God's forgiveness, my son… don't use any titles or honorific expressions. I don't like that at all. An endearing spirit and a soul that's sincere and pure are what really interest me. This business of 'Pasha' and 'Your Excellency,' well… we're all descended from Adam and Eve. The fact is that your manners pleased me, and I wanted to invite you to my home. So you're most welcome. You're Hilmi's classmate in Law School. Isn't that so?"

  "Yes, sir. We've been classmates since Khalil Agha Elementary School."

  The man raised his white eyebrows in admiration and said, "Childhood friends!" Then, nodding his head, he continued: "Excellent, excellent! Perhaps like him you're from al-Husayn district?"

  "Yes, sir. I was born in the home of my grandfather, Mr. Muhammad Iffat, in al-Gamaliya. I live now with my father in Palace of Desire Alley."

  The man said with a joy that was almost delirious, "Cairo's ancient districts… grand places! Would you believe that I lived there for a long time with my late father in Birguwan. I was my parents' only child and a rascal. I frequently got the boys together in a procession, and we'd go from neighborhood to neighborhood, leaving a trail of devastation behind us. Woe to any poor soul whom fate sent our way. My father would get extremely angry and chase after me with a stick…. Son, you said that your grandfather is Muhammad Iffat?"

  Ridwan replied proudly, "Yes, sir."

  The pasha thought for a moment before saying, "I remember seeing him once at the home of the deputy for al-Gamaliya. He's an outstanding person and a sincere nationalist. He was almost nominated to run in the forthcoming elections, but his friend the former deputy beat him out at the last minute. The recent coalition necessitates a certain amount of goodwill so that our brothers in the Liberal Constitutionalists can win a few seats. You're with Hilmi in Law School…. Beautiful! Law is the master of all the other disciplines. Its study requires true brilliance. To have a fine future, just strive to do your best."

  When he made these last remarks, his tone was encouraging and even promising. Ridwan'sheart pulsed with lofty and fervent aspirations as he responded, "We've never failed an exam during our academic careers."

  "Braao! That's the foundation. Then comes a position as a government attorney, to be folio wed by a judgeship. There will always be someone to open closed doors for industrious young men. A judge's life is an excellent one. Its mainstays are a lively intellige
nce and a wakeful conscience. By the grace of God I was an honest judge. I left the bench to enter politics. Patriotism occasionally forces us to give up work we love. Yet even today you will find people who swear by my fairness and integrity. Set your sights on being industrious and fair. Then you'll be free to do what you want in your private life. Do your duty and act as you please. If you fail to do your duty, people will see only your faults. Haven't you observed the pleasure some busybodies take in saying that such and such a minister has this defect and that the poet so-and-so has the following disease? Fine … but not all the victims of these slanders are cabinet ministers or poets. So be a minister or a poet first, and then do what you want. Don't overlook this lesson, Professor Ridwan."

  Quoting the medieval poet al-Mutanabbi, Hilmi said mischievously, "The noble man is the one whose faults can be counted.' Isn't that so, Your Excellency?"

  Leaning his head toward his right shoulder, the man said, "Of course. Glory to the One who alone is perfect. Man is very weak, Ridwan. But he must be strong in the other parts of his life. Do you understand? If you want, I'll tell you about the great men of our nation. You won't find any without some failing. We'll discuss this at length and study the lessons we can derive from it, in order to have a life amply endowed with achievement and happiness."

  Hilmi looked at Ridwan, saying, "Didn't I tell you that the pasha's friendship is a limitless treasure?"

  Abd al-Rahim Isa told Ridwan, who could hardly keep his eyes off the man, "I love learning. I love life. I love people. My practice is to offer a young man a hand until he grows up. What is there in the world that's better than love? If we run into a legal problem, we must solve it together. When we think about the future, we shall do that together. If we feel like resting, we should rest together. I've never known a man as wise as Hasan Bey Imad. Today he's one of a select group of prominent diplomats. Never mind that he's one of my political enemies. When he concentrates on a subject, he masters it. Yet when music makes him ecstatic, he dances nude. The world can be a delightful place, if you're wise and broad-minded. Aren't you broad-minded, Ridwan?"

  Hilmi Izzat immediately answered for him, "If he's not, we're prepared to broaden it for him."

  The pasha's face beamed with a childlike smile that revealed his insatiable appetite for pleasure. He said, "This boy's a rapscallion, Ridwan! But what can I do? He's your childhood friend, the lucky fellow. I'm not the one who invented the saying 'Birds of a feather flock together.' You must be a rapscallion too. Tell me about yourself, Ridwan. Oh! You've let me say more than I intended while remaining silent like an astute politician. Yes? Tell me, Ridwan. What do you love and what do you hate?"

  Then the servant entered, carrying a tray. He was a cleanshaven youth like the doorman and the chauffeur. As they drank the water flavored with orange blossoms, the pasha asked, "Water like this is what the people of al-Husayn district drink, isn't it?"

  Ridwan smilingly murmured. "Yes, sir."

  Nodding his head ecstatically, the pasha said, "People of al-Husayri, help us!"

  They all laughed. Even the servant smiled as he left the chamber. Then the pasha resumed his questioning: "What do you love? What do you hate? Speak frankly, Ridwan. Let me make it easier for you to answer. Are you interested in politics?"

  Hilmi Izzat said, "We're both members of the student committee'

  "This is the first reason for us to be close. Do you like literature?"

  Hilmi Izzat replied, "He's fond of Shawqi, Hafiz, and al-Manfaluti."

  The pasha chided him, "You be still. Brother, I want to hear his voice."

  They laughed. Smiling, Ridwan said, "I could die for Shawqi, Hafiz, and al-Manfaluti."

  " could die for'… What an expression! You only hear it in al-Gamaliya. Is the name of your district derived from gamal, or beauty, Ridwan? You must be a fan of verses like 'Silver gold,'

  'In the still of the night,'

  'Who is it?' and 'Removing one branch, he lays down another….' My God, my God! This is another reason for us to be close friends, beautiful Gamaliya. Do you like singinga"

  "He adores…"

  "You be still."

  They all laughed once more. Ridwan said, "Umm Kalthoum."

  "Excellent. I may prefer the older style of singing, but all singing's beautiful. I love both 'the profound and the witty' as that medieval skeptic al-Ma'arri put it. Or, I could die for it, as you would say, sir. Very fine. What a delightful evening!"

  The telephone rang, and the pasha went to answer it. Putting the receiver to his ear, he said, "Hello…. Greetings, Your Excellency the pasha…. What's so amazing about that? Didn't Isma'il Sidqy himself sit on a negotiating team once as one of the nation's leaders? … I told the leader my candid opinion. It's also that of other Wafdists like Mahir and al-Nuqrashi…. I'm sorry, Pasha. I can't. I haven't forgotten that King Fuad once opposed my promotion. He's the last person to talk about ethics. In any case I'll see you at the club tomorrow. Goodbye, Pasha."

  The man returned with a frown but on seeing Ridwan's face almost immediately cheered up and continued their conversation: "Yes, Mr. Ridwan. We've gotten acquainted, and it's been beautiful. I advise you to be industrious. I advise you not to lose sight of your duty or your ideals. Now let's talk about music and having a good time."

  Ridwan looked at his watch. The pasha appeared alarmed and said, "Anything but that! The clock is an enemy of friendly reunions."

  Ridwan stammered rather uneasily, "But we're late, Your Honor the pasha."

  "Late! Do you mean late for me, at my age? You're mistaken, son. I still love to enjoy talk, beauty, and singing until one in the morning. We haven't begun the soiree yet. We've only recited the preliminary blessing: In the name of God the compassionate, the merciful. Don't object. The automobile is at your command until morning. I've heard that you stay out all night when you're studying for an examination. So let's study together. Why not? I'd find it delightful to review an introduction to general law or some Islamic law. By the way, who teaches you Islamic Shari'a law? Shaykh Ibrahim Nadim may God grant him a good evening was a very sporting fellow. Don't be astonished! One day we'll write the history of all the important men of the age. You must understand everything. Our night will be a loving, friendly one. Tell me, Hilmi, what's the most appropriate drink for a night like this?"

  Hilmi replied confidently, "Whiskey and soda with grilled meat."

  The pasha laughed and asked, "Scoundrel, how can you drink grilled meat?"

  125

  Every Thursday after lunch Khadij a's entire family gathered in a fashion that scarcely ever changed. Assembled in the sitting room were the father, Ibrahim Shawkat, and the two sons, Abd al-Muni'ra and Ahmad. It was rare for Khadij a to be without some project, and she embroidered on a tablecloth while she sat with them. After a prolonged and heroic struggle against time, Ibrahim Shawkat had finally begun to show his age. His hair was turning white, and he looked a little bloated. Except for this, hishealth was still enviably good.

  Smoking a cigarette, he took his place between his sons with calm assurance. His protruding eyes had their customary look of languid indifference. The two boys kept up a stream of conversation with each other, their father, or their mother, who participated without looking up from her work. She seemed a massive chunk of flesh. There was nothing in the domestic atmosphere to ruffle Khadij a's peace of mind. Since the death of her mother-in-law, there had been no one to challenge her control over her home. She performed her chores with unflagging zeal. As plumpness was the key to her beauty, she took extraordinary care to maintain her weight. She attempted to impose her guidance on everyone, especially her husband and their two sons. The man had given in, but Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad each went his own way, appealing to her love to free themselves from her domination. Some years before she had succeeded in convincing her husband to respect the precepts of Islam. The man had begun praying and fasting and had become accustomed to this. Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad had grown up with these observances
, but for the past two years Alimad had ceased to perform his religious duties. He would dodge Ids mother's attempts to interrogate him or excuse himself on some pretext or other.

  Ibrahim Shawkat loved and admired his sons greatly. He seized every opportunity to praise the string of successes that had brought Abd al- Muni'm to Law School and Ahmad to the final stage of his secondary education. Khadija also boasted about these achievements, saying, "This is all the fruit of my concern. If I had left the matter up to you, neither of them would have amounted to anything."

  It had recently been established that, from want of practice, Khadija had forgotten how to read and write, and this discovery had made her the target of Ibrahim's jests. Finally her sons had suggested that they should teach her what she had forgotten in order to repay her for the helping hand she boasted of giving their education. Their proposal had made her a little angry but had also made her laugh a lot. She summed up her feelings about the situation in one sentence: "A woman does not need to read or write unless she's exchanging letters with a lover."

  She appeared to be happy and content with her family, although she did not think that Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad ate enough. Their thinness enraged her, and she said disapprovingly, "I've told you a thousand times to use chamomile to improve your appetites. You must eat properly. Don't you see how well your father eats?"

  Looking at their father, the two young men smiled. Ibrahim said, "Why don't you use yourself as the example? You eat like a food grinder."

  Smiling, she replied, "I'll let them decide which of us to imitate."

  Ibrahim protested, "Lady, your envious eye has injured me. That's why the dentist suggested I have my teeth extracted."

  With a tender look in her eyes, she said, "Don't be upset. Once they're out, you won't have any more problems or pain, God willing."

 

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