Sugar Street tct-3

by Naguib Mahfouz

  "Then you're happy with the treaty?"

  Nodding his head as though personally responsible for the decision, Fuad replied, "On the whole, yes. Some oppose it for legitimate reasons and others do so in bad faith. When we consider the circumstances in which we find ourselves and remember that despite the bitterness of the Sidqy era our people endured it without rebelling against him, we must consider the treaty a positive step. It abolishes the 'reserved points' Hmiting Egyptian independence, prepares the way for an end to the capitulations granting special privileges to foreigners, limits the future presence of foreign troops, and restricts them to a certain region. Without any doubt, it's a great step forward."

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad was more enthusiastic and less knowledgeable about the treaty than Fuad. He would have liked the young man to agree more decisively with him, and when that did not happen, he insisted, "In any case, we must remember that the Wafd have restored the constitution to the nation and brought us independence, even if this has taken some time."

  Kamal reflected that Fuad had always been lukewarm about politics. Perhapshe still was. But he did seem to favor the Wafd.

  "For a long time I was politically engaged in a most emotional way," Kamal reflected. "But now I don't believe in anything. Not even politics is exempt from my insatiable doubt. Yet no matter what my intellect does, my heart pounds with nationalist fervor."

  Fuad laughingly remarked, "In periods of unrest, the judicial system quails, and the police take precedence. Thus times of unrest are also times of police power. If the Wafd returns to rule, the judicial system will regain its rightful place and activities of the police will be limited. The natural state of affairs is for the law to have the final say."

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad commented, "Can we forget the Sidqy era? Soldiers used truncheons to assemble citizens on election days. Many of our distinguished friends were ruined and went bankrupt as a result of their loyalty to the Wafd. And then we see this 'devil' become a member of the negotiating team, posing as a nationalist liberal."

  Fuad replied, "Circumstances required a united front, one that would have been incomplete had it not included this 'devil' and his supporters. It's the end result that counts."

  Fuad lingered there for some time, sipping coffee, while Kamal examined his friend, noticing the elegant white silk suit, which had a red rose decorating its lapel, and the forceful personality that he had acquired to match his position. Deep inside, Kamal felt that, in spite of everything, he would be happy to have this young man ask for Na'ima's hand, but Fuad did not touch on this subject. He seeined ready to depart and soon told al-Sayyid Ahmad, "It must be time for you to leave for the store. I'll stay and chat with Kamal, but I'll visit you before going to Alexandria. I've decided to spend the rest of August and part of September at the beach". Then he rose, said goodbye to his host with a handshake, and left the room, preceded by Kamal.

  They climbed the stairs to the top floor and settled themselves in the study. Fuad smiled as he looked around at the books on the shelves. He asked, "May I borrow a book from you?"

  Hiding his lack of enthusiasm, Kamal answered, "I'd be delighted. What do you normally read during your free time?"

  "I have the poetry collections of Shawqi, Hafiz Ibrahim, and Mutran as well as some books by al-Jahiz and al-JVla'arri. I'm especially fond of al-Mawardi's Culture for This World and the Next, not to mention works of contemporary authors. This, along with a few books by Dickens and Conan Doyle … but my commitment to the law consumes most of my time."

  Fuad rose to walk around and inspect the books, reading their titles. Completing his circle, he snorted, "A purely philosophical library! There's nothing to interest me here. I read al-Fikr magazine and have followed your essays in it over the years. But I don't claim to have read all of them or to remember anything from them. A philosophical discussion isheavy reading, and a public prosecutor is burdened with work. Why don't you write on popular topics?"

  Kamal had heard his works belittled so often that he had almost grown accustomed to it and felt little distress about it. For him, doubt devoured everything, including any sorrow over such criticism. What was fame? What was popularity? Kamal was actually pleased to hear that Fuad found the articles useless for diversion in his spare time.

  Kamal asked, "What do you mean by 'popular topics'?"

  "Literature, for example."

  "I've read many charming works since we were together, but I'm not a novelist or a poet."

  Fuad laughed and said, "Then stay in philosophy, all by yourself. Aren't you a philosopher?"

  "Aren't you a philosopher?" This expression had been etched into his mind ever since A'ida's lips had tossed it at him on Palaces Street. He shuddered from the terrifying impact it still made on his heart but concealed his emotional turmoil by laughing loudly. He remembered the days when Fuad had been devoted to him, following him around like a shadow. Now Kamal was looking at an important man, who deserved his affection and loyalty.

  "What have you done with your life?" he asked himself.

  Fuad was examining his friend's mustache. Suddenly he laughed and said, "If only…" When Kamal's eyes inquired what this meant, Fuad continued: "We're both almost thirty, and neither of us has married. Our generation is rife with bachelors. It's a crisis generation. Are you still resolutely opposed to marriage?"

  "I haven't budged."

  "I don't know why, but I believe that you will never marry."

  "You've always been very perceptive."

  Smiling warmly as though to apologize in advance for what he was going to say, Fuad commented, "You're an egotistical man. You insist on maintaining total control over your life. Brother, the Prophet married, and that did not prevent him from having a sublime spiritual life". Then, laughing, he emended his statement: "Excuse me for using the Prophet as an example. I almost forgot that you … But not so fast. You're no longer the same old atheist. Now you even doubt atheism. This represents a gain for belief."

  Kamal replied calmly, "Let's skip the philosophizing. You don't enjoy it. Tell me why you haven't married yet, since this is what you think of the single life."

  He immediately sensed that he should not have brought up this topic, for fear his friend would consider it a hint to ask for Na'ima's hand. But Fuad gave no sign of having understood his words in this manner. Instead, he laughed aloud although without abandoning his dignified demeanor and answered, "You know, I've only recently started to enjoy the seamy side of life.

  Unlike you, I wasn't corrupted early in life. I haven't had enough fun yet."

  "Will you marry when you have?"

  As if to brush aside the temptation to prevaricate, Fuad waved his hand backwards through the air and confessed, "Since I've waited this long, I need to be patient a little longer, until I become a judge, for example. Then I'll be able to marry the daughter of a cabinet minister if I want."

  "You son of Jamil al-Hamzawi!" Kamal exclaimed to himself. "The bridegroom of a cabinet official's daughter… her mother-in-law would be from the working-class district of al-Mubayyada. Even though he justified the presence of evil in the world, I defy Leibniz to justify this."

  Kamal said, "You consider marriage a…"

  Before he could complete this statement, Fuad laughingly interrupted: "At least that's better than not considering it at all."

  "But happiness…"

  "Don't philosophize! Happiness is a subjective art. You may find bliss with the daughter of a cabinet minister and nothing but misery with a girl from your own background. Marriage is a treaty like the one al-Nahhas signed yesterday. It involves haggling, realistic appraisals, shrewdness, perspicacity, gains and losses. In our country this is the only door to advancement. Last week a man not yet forty was appointed a senior judge for the appeals court, while I could devote a lifetime of diligent and tireless service to the judicial system without ever attaining such an exalted position."

  What was the primary-school teacher to say? He would spend his entire life at the sixth le
vel of the civil service, even if philosophy did fill his head to overflowing.

  "Your position should save you from having to resort to such stratagems."

  "If it weren't for strategic alliances of this kind, no prime minister would ever be able to assemble a cabinet."

  Kamal laughed lifelessly and observed, "You're in need of some philosophy. You would benefit from a spoonful of Spinoza."

  "Sip as much of it as you want, but spare us. Tell me where a man can have a good time and find something to drink. In Qena I had to take my pleasures cautiously, on the sly. A position like mine forces a man to be discreet and private. The constant struggle between us and the police means that we must be extra careful. A public prosecutor has a tedious and sensitive job."

  "We're returning to talk that threatens to make me explode with bitterness," Kamal noted to himself. "Compared to yours, my life seems disciplined and refined, but it's also the greatest possible test in life for my skeptical philosophy."

  "My circumstances," Fuad continued, "bring me together with many important people, and they invite me to their mansions. I feel obliged to refuse their invitations in order to avoid any possible conflict of interest in the performance of my duties. But their mentality is such that they don't understand this. All the leading citizens of the region accuse me of being a snob, although I am entirely innocent of the charge."

  Although saying "Yes" agreeably to his friend, Kamal thought, "You're a conceited snob who is solicitous about his position."

  "For similar reasons I lost favor with the police force. Dissatisfied with their crooked procedures, I attempted to entrap them. I had the law on my side, while they had the brutality of the Middle Ages on theirs. Everyone hates me, but I'm right."

  "You're right," Kamal reflected. "That's what I've always known about you. You're shrewd and honest. But you don't and can't love anyone. You don't cling to what's right simply because it is right but out of conceit, pride, and a feeling of inferiority. This is what men are like. I run into people like you even in lowly callings. A man who is both pleasant and forceful is a myth. But what value does love have? Or idealism? Or anything?"

  They talked for a long time. When preparing to leave, Fuad leaned toward Kamal and whispered, "I'm new in Cairo. You naturally know of an establishment — or probably several… one that's very private, naturally…."

  Smiling, Kamal replied, "A teacher, like a public prosecutor, must always take care to be discreet."

  "Excellent. We'll get together soon. I'm busy arranging the new apartment now, but we'll have to spend some evenings together."

  "Agreed."

  They left the room together, and Kamal accompanied his friend all the way to the street. Passing by the first floor on his return, he met his mother, who stood waiting for him at the door. She inquired anxiously, "Didn't he say anything to you?"

  He understood what she meant, and that tormented him terribly. But he pretended not to understand and asked in turn, "About what?"

  "Na'ima?"

  He answered resentfully, "Absolutely not."

  "Amazing!"

  They exchanged a long look. Then Amina continued: "But al-Hamzawi spoke to your father about it."

  Concealing his fury as best he could, Kamal said, "Perhapshe spoke without having consulted his son."

  Amina retorted angrily, "What a silly idea. Doesn't he know how lucky he would be to get her? Your father should have reminded him who he is."

  "Fuad's not to blame. Perhaps his father, with all the best intentions, spoke rashly, without thinking it over."

  "But he must have told his son. Did Fuad refuse… that boy who was transformed into a distinguished civil servant by our money?"

  "There's no need to talk about that."

  "Son, this is unimaginable. Doesn't he know that accepting him into our family does us no honor?"

  "Then don't be upset if it doesn't happen."

  "I'm not upset about it. But I'm angered by the insult."

  "There has been no insult. It's just a misunderstanding."

  He returned to his room, sad and embarrassed, telling himself, "Na'ima's a beautiful rose. Yet, since I'm a man whose only remaining merit is love of truth, I must ask whether she is really a good match for a public prosecutor. Although he comes from a modest background, he will be able to find a spouse who is better educated, from a more distinguished family, wealthier, and prettier too. His good-natured father was too hasty. But he's not to blame. Still, Fuad's remarks to me were impudent. He certainly is impertinent. He's bright, honest, competent, insolent, and conceited, although it's not his fault. It's the result of the factors dividing, men from each other. They infect us with all these maladies."

  130

  Al-Fikr magazine occupied the ground floor of number 21 Abd al-Aziz Street. The barred window in the office of its proprietor, Mr. Abd al-Aziz al-Asyuti, overlooked the tenebrous Barakat Alley, and therefore the light inside was left on both night and day. Whenever Kamal approached the magazine's headquarters, the gloomy premises and shabby furniture reminded him of the status of thought in his land and of his own position in his society. Mr. Abd al-Aziz greeted him with an affectionate smile of welcome. This was hardly surprising, for they had known each other since 1930, when Kamal had begun sending the magazine his essays on philosophy. During the past six years his collaboration with the editor had been mutually supportive, if unremunerated. In fact, the magazine paid none of its writers for their efforts, which were undertaken solely for the advancement of philosophy and culture.

  Abd al-Aziz welcomed all volunteer contributors, even specialists in Islamic philosophy, which was his own field. After receiving an Islamic education at al-Azhar university, he had traveled to France, where he spent four years doing research and auditing lectures without obtaining a degree. His real estate holdings, which provided him with a monthly income of fifty pounds, spared him from having to earn a living. He had founded al-Fikr magazine in 1923 and had kept publishing it, even though the profits were not commensurate with the labor he poured into it.

  Kamal had scarcely taken a seat when a man his own age entered. Wearing a gray linen suit, he was tall and thin, although less so than Kamal, and had a long profile, taut cheeks, and wide lips. His delicate nose and pointed chin lent a special character to his full face. Smiling, he came forward with light steps and stretched out his hand to Mr. Abd al-Aziz, who shook it and presented the visitor to Kamal: "Mr. Riyad Qaldas, a translator in the Ministry of Education. He has recently joined the group writing for al-Fikr, infusing fresh blood into our scholarly journal with his monthly summaries of plays from world literature and his short stories."

  Then he introduced Kamal: "Mr. Kamal Ahmad Abd al-Jawad. Perhaps you've read his essays?"

  The two men shook hands, and Riyad said admiringly, "I've read them for years. They are essays of value, in every sense of the word."

  Kamal thanked him cautiously for this praise. Then they sat down on neighboring chairs in front of the desk of Mr. Abd al-Aziz, who remarked, "Mr. Riyad, don't wait for him to return your compliment and say that he has read your valuable stories. He never reads stories."

  Riyad laughed engagingly and revealed gleaming regular teeth with a gap between the middle incisors. "Don't you like literature?" he asked. "Every philosopher has a special theory of beauty arrived at only after an exhaustive examination of various arts literature included, naturally."

  Rather uneasily, Kamal ventured, "I don't hate literature. For a long time, I've used it for relaxation, enjoying both poetry and prose. But I have little free time."

  "That must mean you've read what short stories you could, since modern literature consists almost entirely of short stories and plays."

  Kamal replied, "Over the years I've read a great number, although I…"

  Smiling in a knowing way, Abd al-Aziz al-Asyuti interrupted: "It's up to you, Mr. Riyad, to convince him of the truth of your new ideas. For the moment it will suffice if you realize that he's a philo
sopher whose energies are concentrated on thought". Then, turning toward Kamal, he asked, "Do you have your essay for this month?"

  Kamal brought out an envelope of medium size and silently placed tt in front of the editor, who took it. After extracting the article and examining it he said, "On Bergson? … Fine!"

  Kamal explained, "The idea is to give an overview of the role his philosophy has played in the history of modern thought. Perhaps later I'll follow up on it with some detailed studies."

  Riyad Qaldas was listening to the discussion with interest. Gazing at Kamal in an endearing way, he asked, "I've read your articles for years, starting with the ones you did on the Greek philosophers. They have been varied and occasionally contradictory, since they have presented rival schools of philosophy. I realize that you're a historian of ideas. Yet all the same I've tried in vain to discover your own intellectual position and the school of philosophy with which you're affiliated."

  Abd al-Aziz al-Asyuti observed, "We're relative newcomers to the field of philosophical studies. So we must commence with general presentations. Perhaps in time Professor Kamal will develop a new philosophy. Possibly, Mr. Riyad, you'll become one of the adherents of Kamalism."

  They all laughed. Kamal removed his spectacles and began to clean the lenses. He was capable of losing himself rapidly in a conversation, especially if he liked the person and if the atmosphere was relaxed and pleasant.

  Kamal said, "I'm a tourist in a museum where nothing belongs to me. I'm merely a historian. I don't know where I stand."

  With increasing interest Riyad Qaldas replied, "In other words, you're at a crossroads. I stood there for a long time before finding my way. But I wager there's a story behind your current posture. Usually it's the end of one stage and the beginning of another. Haven't you believed strongly in various different causes before reaching this point?"