“When will you realize your exiled father’s dream?” his uncle Radwan asked him.
“I’m taking it step by step,” he said cautiously, “otherwise I’ll lose control of the clan.”
“That’s the behavior of a politician, not a hero, nephew.”
“May God be merciful to a man who knows his limits,” he remarked obscurely.
Still Radwan did not lose hope, while Wahid continued to bide his time. As the days passed and he experienced the glory of being chief, the ease and comfort of wealth, the fawning of the notables, he began to abandon himself to the lure of seduction, and his selfish impulses grew stronger as heroic dreams of restoring the Nagis’ golden age faded. He was soon building a house of his, own, enjoying all the good things of life, becoming increasingly addicted to drink and drugs and so steeped in depravity that his perversions became public knowledge.
“It would have been better if he hadn’t been one of us,” commented Radwan bitterly to his wife, Unsiyya.
The harafish recalled Sulayman’s decline and observed that only the faults were handed down in the Nagi family. Qurra was as distressed by Wahid’s behavior as his uncle Radwan, but Rummana said, “At least we’ve got back some of our standing.”
Rummana was like his brother Wahid in his avid desire for pleasure and the scant regard he had for the family’s past glory. Wahid gave himself the title of “The Visionary,” but he was known privately to the harafish as “The One-Eyed.” His perversions were well known: he had never married, and he surrounded himself with young men like the Mamelukes.
This was established as the pattern of Wahid the One-Eyed’s reign.
8.
Radwan grew tired at heart. Although he was not yet forty, work began to exhaust him: at the slightest effort he was bathed in a cold sweat and the world would turn black before his eyes. He was weighed down by sorrow, because of the tragedy which had befallen his brother Samaha and his nephew’s dismal conduct, and so he withdrew from active life, preferring solitude and meditation. He left the running of the grain merchant’s business to Rummana and Qurra.
9.
The brothers occupied the director’s office together, two completely different characters sharing the same job. Qurra was handsome; his eyes radiated charm, and he had his mother Mahasin’s delicate features and graceful physique which, along with his good manners and integrity, made him seem like Shams al-Din, without his strength. Rummana, on the other hand, was short and stout as a barrel, with dark skin and coarse features and a crude recklessness about him. Qurra was the better manager and businessman, and more straightforward in his dealings with the workers, who liked him for his tolerance and generosity. Rummana used to socialize with his brother Wahid in the hashish den, only too pleased to be involved in his escapades and, when he was drunk, to criticize his brother Qurra with envious sarcasm.
One day he said to Qurra, “You squander your money to buy the men’s affections. What’s the sense in that?”
“Affection isn’t a business deal,” said Qurra.
“What is it, then?”
“Try it, Rummana!”
Rummana laughed scathingly. “You’re just a manipulator.”
Although Qurra was a year younger than Rummana, he felt responsible for him, and even for Wahid. The two brothers were irritated by his perfectionism.
“You’re lords of the alley now. Before you were the riffraff. Don’t you give me credit for that?” Wahid challenged him one day.
“We only lost our reputation because of you,” retorted Qurra angrily.
“Don’t believe these fairy tales!” said Wahid with uncontrolled rage.
“Aren’t you ‘The Visionary’?” asked Qurra sarcastically.
Wahid turned on his heel and strode off in a fury.
Rummana’s amorous adventures also pained Qurra. “Why don’t you get married?” he implored. “Out of respect for us!”
“You’re a year younger than me,” said Rummana angrily. “You can’t give me orders.”
Radwan was upset by the differences he noticed between the brothers and said to Qurra, “It’s important to me that you preserve good relations with each other.”
“We’ve got enough trouble as it is,” added his aunt Safiyya, “and you’re never going to change the world.”
Through it all, Diya continued to sway down the alley with her incense burner early each evening, communing with the other world, her eyes full of tears.
10.
Qurra was going home one night when an old woman accosted him in the gloom. “Good evening, Master Qurra.”
He returned the greeting in surprise and she said, “There’s someone waiting to see you in the monastery square.”
“Who?” he asked, his curiosity mounting.
“Aziza, the daughter of Ismail Bannan.”
11.
He followed the old woman through the darkness of the archway and out into the dim starlight of the square. It was summer. A pleasant, languid breeze blew and the air was filled with the sweet sound of dervishes chanting. The old woman led him over to a dim figure standing in the shadow of the ancient wall. He could not make out her features and had never heard of her before.
She said nothing and after some time he whispered encouragingly, “Can I help you in some way?”
“Thank you,” came her soft, tremulous voice. Then, as if remembering her reasons for being there, she went on in a pleading tone, “Don’t think badly of me.”
“Of course not.”
The barrier of silence descended once more. He sensed her courage had deserted her, and his suspicions took a hold of him. Involuntarily, he urged her to speak. “I’m listening.”
“You’re known as an honorable man,” she said with mounting agitation. “I only want a brief word with you. I pray God I can put this in the right way.”
“You have my full attention.”
“Your brother, Rummana…”
She broke off as if the word choked her, and his heart gave a sickening lurch. His suspicions disappeared and darkness descended in their place.
“My brother Rummana?” he whispered, barely audible.
She seemed unable to continue the conversation and the truth emerged dimly, like an insect crawling toward him through the darkness.
Then the old woman whispered suddenly, “He promised to marry her.”
“So that’s it!”
“If he doesn’t honor his promise immediately, we’re finished.”
The two shadowy figures moved away and the sound of stifled sobbing set like a plaster cast around his eardrums.
12.
He ate his evening meal with his uncle and aunt. Diya stayed in her own quarters, and Rummana was always out at night.
“You’re not your usual self,” remarked his uncle.
“I’m fine,” he murmured.
“Your uncle’s right,” Unsiyya persisted.
How could he begin to tell them? They should be the first to know, or so he had thought on his way home from the square, but now he found himself drawing back. Something was stopping him, cautioning him against it. The girl had entrusted him with her secret and he felt obliged to keep it safe. He would have to bring the subject up with Rummana first, however unappealing the idea.
13.
The whole household was asleep except Qurra. Rummana returned an hour before dawn, his eyes reddened and heavy with drink. Qurra realized at once that he had a difficult task ahead of him, and wondered how best to set about it when he knew that at first light he had to get up and open the shop, and that the manager’s office was no place for such a conversation.
“What woke you?”
Qurra led him into his room. Rummana threw himself down on the divan and went on with a wary attempt at jocularity, “The dawn prayer?”
Ignoring this sarcasm, Qurra said gently, “I’ve got something important to tell you, Rummana. I want you to give me your full attention.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“On condition that it has nothing to do with morals,” said Rummana apprehensively.
“Everything has to do with morals.”
“Then I refuse to listen,” said Rummana obstinately.
“Be patient. It’s not what you imagine. It’s something that concerns you more than it concerns me, and you can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“You’re making me curious.”
Resting his hand lightly on his brother’s shoulder, Qurra said in a low voice, “It’s about Aziza.”
Rummana’s head went back as if a stone had hit him. “Aziza,” he muttered.
“Ismail Bannan’s daughter.”
“I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”
Calmly and yet firmly Qurra said, “You must marry her. Without delay.”
Rummana pushed back his headcloth, freed himself from his brother’s hand with an abrupt movement, and exclaimed in anger, “Where’s her shame? How did she get in touch with you?”
“That doesn’t matter. The main thing is to avoid a disaster.”
“The only disaster is in your mind,” retorted Rummana scathingly.
“I think it’s all too real.”
“I won’t do it. I’ve got no desire to marry her,” fumed Rummana.
“Why not? You must have liked her once upon a time! And her father’s a respected member of the community.”
“I don’t trust girls who give in like that,” said Rummana coldly.
“Never mind what you think, there are times when you have to do the decent thing.”
“The decent thing! People who talk like that make me sick!”
“You must avoid disgrace,” pleaded Qurra. “When that’s taken care of, you can do what you like.”
Rummana shook his head, seemingly at a loss, and said, “There’s a complication.”
“What?”
“Her sister, Raifa. She and I are in love.”
“You can’t kill off one and marry the other,” said Qurra uneasily.
Rummana muttered vaguely and Qurra went on, “And Raifa may get to hear about this one day.”
“She already has done.”
“And she’s prepared to agree to what you want?”
Rummana nodded.
“She must be a bad lot,” observed Qurra.
“Not at all. She’s like me. She despises women who give in.”
“But she’s her sister!”
“Real hatred only exists between siblings!”
Qurra recoiled for a moment, then shouted at his brother in fury, “You’re to marry her at once!”
“I won’t have you ordering me about,” shouted back Rummana.
He rose to his feet aggressively. As he turned to go, he added over his shoulder, “If you pity her so much, marry her yourself!”
14.
The rain falls on the earth, and does not disappear in space. Shooting stars gleam brightly for an instant, then plunge to extinction. The trees remain in their places, and never fly through the air. The birds circle around for a time, then return to their nests among the branches. There is a power at work, enticing everything to dance to a single rhythm. Nobody knows what suffering this causes—for example, when the clouds collide and peals of thunder explode in the sky.
Qurra had thought at length about his problem. He had told himself that he would be doing nothing wrong if he went about his business, that he had already done all he could. But he found it impossible to turn his back. Aziza’s cry for help rang in his ears whenever he heard the chanting from the monastery, as immovable as the ancient wall. The sound of her sobbing had set hard around his eardrums. He was responsible. So was the whole Nagi family. Even Ashur the miracle worker. He couldn’t shrug his shoulders and walk away. The force drawing him to act in a certain way perplexed him: he would never be any freer than the birds, the stars, the rain. It was taking him to the heart of pain and suffering, the torture of conflicting, equally weighted demands.
“If you pity her so much, marry her yourself!”
The bastard was challenging him, putting him to the test, having his revenge. Did he deserve such a marriage? No! A thousand times no! But how could he get out of it? He too despised girls who gave in, but at the same time felt there was something sacred about suffering. Fate seemed to stand obstinately in his way. But hadn’t he said to Rummana, “Avoid disgrace at all costs. Apart from that, do as you think best”?
Just so. First save face. Afterward reconsider.
15.
“I’ve decided to get married!” he announced to his uncle Radwan.
His uncle laughed. “Rummana’s beaten you to it. Just an hour ago!”
Qurra’s heart beat wildly in the hope that his brother might have had a sudden change of heart. “Who does he want to marry?”
“Raifa, Ismail Bannan’s daughter.”
Crestfallen, he said nothing.
“What about you?” asked Radwan.
Fixing a smile on his lips, he feigned astonishment and exclaimed, “What an extraordinary coincidence! Can you believe it, uncle, I want her sister, Aziza!”
Radwan laughed loudly. “God bless both of you. I’m delighted. Ismail’s a good neighbor and an honest businessman.”
16.
Taking this decision did not rid him of his apprehensions. His euphoria was mixed with anxiety and distaste, like limpid rain sinking into the mud. The fact that Rummana and Raifa knew his secret made matters worse. He was also afraid that Aziza would refuse his charitable offer and cause a calamity, but she accepted. The cruel, clean blade pierced him to the marrow. Arrangements were made with a speed which astonished everyone and provoked ribald comments.
17.
The two couples had a joint wedding ceremony and the whole alley celebrated. Qurra saw the two sisters for the first time in his life. Their similarity appalled him: they were like twins, both average build, with rosy cheeks, clear skins, very dark eyes, and unusually regular features. He searched for differences and was rewarded by discovering that Aziza, who was the older, had a dimple in her chin and fuller lips. But the real disparity was in their eyes: Aziza’s had a steady, calm, reassuring expression, but Raifa’s had a nervous glint in them, as if she was constantly trying to fathom people out, and they shone with malign intelligence. He quickly became convinced of his feelings of dislike for her. She did not try to hide her sense of triumph, although he was possibly the only one who noticed this; Aziza kept her eyes fixed on her white shoes with their satin ribbons and sequins. He told himself that she was unhappy like him, and that this would make it easier for them to separate at some time in the future. He led her to their private quarters, accompanied by the beat of the tambourines and the voice of the female singer hired for the occasion, and wondered all the while what he had done to himself.
18.
When they were alone together he found her consumed by embarrassment; she did not attempt to look at him or make the slightest gesture. Helpless, without honor, she was the victim of his magnanimous act. He felt a powerful rush of tenderness for her, intensified by the seductive effect of her melancholy beauty. But he hadn’t forgotten that her heart was closed to him, that she was a complete stranger, and that her wedding dress was no better than prison overalls as far as she was concerned. This was a stage to be gone through, temporary by definition. At this very moment Raifa would be safe in Rummana’s arms, full of triumphant desire. What should he say? She came to his rescue murmuring softly, “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry about what’s happened,” he answered, his feelings of tenderness growing.
“I know it must be a burden for you.”
“But you’re carrying a greater burden,” he said playfully.
“That’s my fault.”
What a conversation for a wedding night! Neither of them made a move. Even the veil had stayed in place. However, her downcast eyes gave him the freedom to examine her face at leisure and he was more impressed by her beaut
y and charm than ever. He confessed to himself that had it not been for the oddity of the situation, he would have gladly fallen on her. He said gently, “While you’re under my roof you won’t be forced to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I know you’re an honorable man,” she said warmly, then paused awkwardly, before rushing on, “but I assure you, all that’s left of the past is a painful memory.”
What did she mean? What could she be thinking of? Didn’t she understand the terms? When could he be completely open with her, and be free of the uncomfortable power of her femininity? Changing the subject, he remarked, “Your sister’s no better than my brother!”
“They’re made for one another,” she replied scornfully.
“How do you get on with her?”
“Badly.”
“What’s the reason?”
“She wants to monopolize everything. Talent. Love. But I beat her to it. She imagined that my parents loved me more than her, so she began to harbor these feelings of spite and resentment toward me. She’s terrible.”
“So’s my brother.” Then, remembering, “But you…”
He was silent, and she said vehemently, “It’s over. I’ve had my eyes opened.”
O Lord! She’s obviously living in a dream. And she’s sincere, yes, really sincere. Where will it get her? His was a hard mission. He was terrified of the effect of her beauty. The weakness in him threatened to overpower him. For the first time she was raising her eyes to meet his. The candle burned down in the silver candlestick.
“I’d like to know what’s going on in your mind,” she said resignedly.
The summer’s night was so warm! He said nothing.
She went on, “You think I’m not good enough for you.”
“You seem sincere and respectable,” he protested.
“Thank you for being kind. But that’s not enough to base a marriage on.”
He considered his options, struggled, resisted temptation. “What do you think about it?” he asked.
The Harafish Page 19