“Yes, Midhat, she’s the estate manager’s daughter. I’m telling you. Her name’s Huriya. Couldn’t the poor bastard have fallen in love with someone else? And what’s he? A shepherd, or maybe an assistant shepherd, son of a bitch!”
Husayn dissolved into laughter, interrupted by a cough that shook his whole body. Abu Shakir and his companion were immersed in conversation and did not look up.
Husayn groaned. “I’ve still got a cough on my chest. This bloody flu.”
“What estate manager’s daughter? Who are you talking about?” asked Midhat brusquely.
Husayn signaled to him to lower his voice. “Keep your voice down, Midhat. I’ve hardly started yet. Abu Ab’ub fell in love with the daughter of Hajj Alwan al-Jalut—no, al-Mahtur. I’ve forgotten the bastard’s name. He was singing her praises to everyone. But he’s like a servant, you know. Deputy shepherd, half-time shepherd, according to Abu Shakir. I don’t know. That’s just what Abu Shakir said. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. Anyway, lover boy had some really impressive job! But the Lord works in mysterious ways, and there was Huriya, in no time at all, ten months pregnant, fourteen months maybe—I mean about to give birth, a nice girl like her.”
He paused and glanced surreptitiously at the two men, seeming suddenly apprehensive for no reason.
“What are they saying, Midhat? Have you been listening to them?”
“No. Why are you bothered about them?”
Husayn made a dismissive face. “I’m not. Your health.” He picked up his glass and drank avidly from it, his eyes closed, before putting it back in its place. “Those two are half-spy half-animal. You haven’t seen them in their true colors. I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. I’m a bit depressed and I feel there’s something in the air.” He drew a number of agitated circles in front of him. “Every time there’s a bang, I jump. I don’t know why But there’s something in the air that won’t let me rest.”
“What about Abu Ab’ub? Did anything happen to him?”
Midhat’s question seemed to surprise him. “There he is in front of you. He’s still alive. Half a bottle of arak every day, and sometimes a glass extra. Why are you asking about him, Midhat?” He looked at the two men. “I can’t hear what those two assholes are talking about.”
“And the farm manager’s daughter, Huriya, what happened to her?”
“How did you know about her, Midhat? Talk quietly, for God’s sake. Don’t let Abu Ab’ub hear you. The bastard’s got a knife in his belt. Where did you hear about her?”
Midhat did not answer immediately He took a sip from his glass. ‘Are you going senile, Husayn? How can you forget so quickly? Haven’t you just been telling me about her?”
An expression of doubt appeared on Husayn’s face. He looked genuinely mystified. Silently he took a handful of beans and put them in his mouth.
“Yes. Yes, that’s right,” he whispered. “I did forget. I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. Anyway, it’s some story They married him to Huriya. Married Huriya to that scum and were grateful to him. They sent the pair of them to live in Baghdad, all expenses paid. I don’t know what they were scared of. What happened? A girl made a mistake. So what? They’re all just as bad. Bloody bastards.”
Midhat picked up his glass and swallowed its entire contents in one go. His jaw contracted slightly, but the stinging sensation in his mouth didn’t last long. The smoke undulated in the air of that gloomy cavern, white and soft, and cigarette ends glowed intermittently Abu Shakir belched then sighed and coughed.
“Yesterday I had the same dream I told you about two months ago, Abu Suha. I dreamed I was at the head of a demonstration . ..”
“God is great.”
“It’s true, Abu Ab’ub. I mean, a real demonstration, with yours truly out in front. And we were running along, shouting, ‘Very sorry’ and everybody...”
She had wanted to say something to him when she let him pull her into his room, one night not long before they were married. She was smiling at first, her hair falling into her eyes as she glanced around the silent house before she went in. Then he took hold of her, embraced her passionately, and planted his mouth on hers. She closed her eyes and gave him her soft, moist lips. He didn’t allow her the chance to speak. In those ethereal moments, outside the limits of time and space, he possessed the whole of existence, and his heart was filled with perfect peace. He held her close, afraid, hesitant, wary of his excessive happiness. She withdrew her mouth from his with a heavy sigh. Her chest pressed against his. Then she whispered something, and he put his hand up to her face and passed it over her burning cheek and her throat. Her golden eyes reflected invisible lights. Again she whispered incomprehensible words. His eyes misted over. His body was taut, filled with crazy desire. Perhaps she had been trying to communicate some significant information in those words which he never heard. He put a hand out and took hold of her full breast. She was trembling, and when he saw her moistening her lips, he pressed his mouth to hers again. Nothing else existed but the sweet taste of her mouth and that softness under his fingers, which had gone beyond the confines of the material and pushed their way in, gently at first, in pursuit of the tender flesh. He felt her yielding to him and her constant trembling never penetrated his consciousness, He was touching part of her naked left breast, which was like a small, warm bird. The narrow opening of the dress stopped him putting his hand right round it, so he pushed his hand in more forcefully and heard the tearing of threads and something dropping on to the floor. Suddenly his fingers were encompassing the trembling smoothness of the breast, and he heard her gasp under his mouth. He was startled at what he had done. Then he moved his mouth down towards her throat and chest, covering the side of her neck with kisses and trying to lift up her dress and kiss her down below. But she drew away slightly and sat on the edge of the bed behind her. No, no, no, she sighed, putting her hand gently on his, hidden beneath her dress. Her heart was beating rapidly and irregularly He felt as though he were holding it as he squeezed her warm breast. In some obscure way she was giving him her life, and at the time it had not occurred to him to question the mystery of it.
“Cheers. Good health, everybody. Let’s drink to that.”
“God is great.”
They were shouting, laughing, raising their glasses high. He picked up his own glass and drank eagerly from it.
“Look, Abu Suha,” said Abu Shakir loudly, “it’s not a question of whether the demonstration’s peaceful or not, it’s why I have this dream all the time. Ah, Mr. Midhat, what’s the difference between life and dreams? It’s all a dream, believe me, Abu Ab’ub ...”
“You’re quite right, Abu Shakir,” interrupted Husayn. “But we’re interested in your slogan. ‘Very sorry’ What’s that about? Why are you very sorry? Why bother to mount a demonstration if you’re very sorry?” He guffawed loudly.
“All I know is I have this dream,” replied Abu Shakir. “And I want to know what it means.”
“Who says it means anything?”
Abu Shakir paused in surprise, the glass halfway to his mouth. “Why wouldn’t it mean something? The whole of humanity would die if there was no meaning to anything, I’m telling you.”
“Where’s this taking us?” murmured Husayn. Then he said out loud, “My dear Abu Shakir, I’m not against reality in any way. But out ancestors said dreams were just confused jumbles of’ images, not me. What have they got to do with reality? Don’t you agree, Midhat?”
“Why aren’t you saying anything, Abu Ab’ub?” said Abu Shakir, turning to his neighbor.
Abu Ab’ub exhaled the smoke forcefully from his cigarette and did not react.
Abu Shakir repeated his question. “Abu Ab’ub, my brother, why the silence?”
“Bless the Prophet, my friend, and say God is great,” said the bedouin suddenly.
They all laughed.
Midhat closed his eyes and his head went round. This relaxed him, and he wished he could sing a sad song or abandon hi
mself to the roaring cascades within him, and let them transport him deeper and deeper inside himself. Perhaps then he would discover secrets about himself which remained hidden under a thousand layers. His flight from himself was like the flight from the sun or death, a pathetic act doomed by its nature to be temporary circumscribed by time. Maybe it would give him breathing space.
“Karumi’s a real gentleman,” Husayn was saying to him. “Refined and sensitive and yet tough at the same time.”
Midhat remembered that his brother had visited Husayn. “What did Karim want to see you about, Husayn? Why did he visit you?”
Husayn was stuffing his mouth with beans. He stopped and turned to him in surprise. “You’ve reminded me. my dear Midhat. These days my tongue runs away with me. Bur you’ve just reminded me—Karim came to ask about you. Why? Where were you?”
Her radiant, calm face was the same when he came to inquire what her brother’s letter had said, when he asked her to fix a day for their wedding, and when, at dawn after the first night of their marriage, he had been about to shut the door of their room behind him and go out of her life, and had found her half sitting up in bed, their bed, her beautiful face calm as she abandoned him to his fate.
“I said to him, My dear Karumi, give me some of the facts. I wasn’t feeling too good. I’d drunk a lot the night before. I swear, every time I drink a bit too much, all the problems of the world descend on me the next day. Try solving their awkward questions when your head’s all over the place!”
“Your health, brothers,” yelled Abu Shakir. “Are you with us, Abu Ab’ub?”
“Cheers, brother. Cheers.”
There was the clatter and thump of glasses being put back on the empty barrels. Abu Shakir clapped his hands. ‘Abu Kamal. Water and ice, please. Are you having another drink, Abu Ab’ub?”
“Half an arak, thanks.”
“Half a Mistaki, Abu Kamal, with some of your famous snacks, please. Are you up for a party tonight, Abu Ab’ub?”
“God is great,” said Abu Ab’ub, then he began to sing. “As if my love .. .Oh, Mother. Where have out loved ones gone? Where are they now?”
“It goes downhill from now on,” whispered Husayn. “Where were we? Ah. So I was under the weather, and Karumi, bless him, only told me half the story I was completely confused. You mean Midhat’s not there? He’s moved out? He got married? I said to him, ‘My dear Karumi, stop. Give me the facts one by one, or at least in some sort of order.’”
Abu Ab’ub belched, then apologized and started to sing again, while Abu Shakir took the dishes of food and the bottle of arak from Abu Kamal and put them carefully down in front of him.
“So—why did Karim come to see you?” Midhat asked Husayn haltingly, the drink getting the better of him. “I mean—what did he need to talk to you about?”
His voice sounded unclear to him; it gave way at certain points when he didn’t mean it to.
“I told you,” answered Husayn. “He came to ask about you. He said, ‘Is Midhat with you? Have you seen him or not? Do you know what’s happened to him?’” He raised his glass to his lips. “My dear Midhat, I said to him, ‘Karumi, my brother, why are you asking me? I don’t even know where I am, so how would I know where Midhat is? Anyway did Midhat leave home?’”
They were finally alone together after midnight. She was wearing a simple white dress with a little red artificial flower on her’ ft breast, and had make-up on her face and kohl round her eyes. Her apprehension was plain to sec. He had asked his family in no uncertain terms to go to bed and not to expect anything from them. He was tired, worn out by his passion, combined with the trivial rituals which they had both had to undergo. She seemed distant from him somehow, and he put this down to the fact that they had only known each other for a short time before they were married.
“Where have out loved ones gone? Where are they now?” sang Abu Ab’ub. Then he said, “He didn’t want to tell me that the engagement, dowry, and marriage had all been fixed up without me knowing anything about it. I felt he was embarrassed for me. It touched me. No, I was really very upset.”
“Sing it again, Abu Ab’ub! You’re a real gem.”
The courtyard was silent. She was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at him. Her eyes were golden brown and her lips deep red. She was pressing a handkerchief between her fingers and seemed more worried than their situation merited. He went up to her and kissed her without touching her with his hands, and she continued to look at him. Behind the beautiful features and all these colors on her face, he could sense that something was wrong. He embraced her and touched the soft, cool flesh and smelled her scent. For a few moments he forgot his tiredness and the doubts reverberating within him, and began responding to the demands of his body, which was excited and ready for her. Those few minutes were a brief respite for them both, but did not last long.
He knocked back the contents of his glass, unconcerned at the burning taste of the bitter liquid. He was aroused, but his emotions simmered quietly without provoking any painful physical effects. Husayn’s conversation and Abu Ab’ub’s mournful singing gently soothed him.
“These symphonies fortify the muscles of their souls,” Husayn was saying with some effort, his features dark. ‘And we ... out brother here, I mean ... is crying over his family and his dead ancestors’ bloody camels. An under-shepherd bellowing in out ears! What’s the world coming to, Midhat?”
“Why have you got it in for Abu Ab’ub?” asked Midhat indistinctly.
He had not meant to slur his words like this and decided it would be better to avoid long sentences.
Husayn whipped round to look at him, gesturing towards the bedouin. “Gof it in for him? not at all, Midhat. I haven’t got the strength. I’m not the sort to hate anyone. I don’t have the energy.”
“I’m just the same. I don’t hate anybody.”
“Why not, my dear Midhat? You’re young, you’ve got a job and a wife. Your whole future’s ahead of you. Why don’t you have the strength to hate?”
Things were becoming slightly muddled in Midhat’s head. He didn’t know if Husayn was joking or not. He passed the palm of his hand over his eyes and face.
“Oh Mother, Oh Mother” sang Abu Ab’ub. “Where have out loved ones gone? Where are they now?”
Was this idiot really missing his family and the special smell of his homeland, and refusing the life they had arranged for him with his erring sweetheart?
“Keep it down, please, brother. It’s Ramadan and the police will be round here any minute.” Abu Kamal was standing impatiently in front of them, speaking in low tones. They fell silent then busied themselves with their drinks as if his words didn’t concern them. Abu Kamal went out into the front of the shop. Abu Shakir smacked his lips and Abu Ab’ub belched.
“Beautiful music, a human symphony,” said Husayn to himself. “But it doesn’t always stick to the rudiments of music. If they had a good conductor, they’d be fine.” He laughed noiselessly and turned to Midhat. “This is the next phase of out evening just beginning, and if out luck holds out, you might see some of the wonders of nature, Midhat. You’re my guest today, you know, the drinks are on me. Do you understand?”
“What did Karim want?”
Husayn looked at him in astonishment. “What’s wrong with you, Midhat? Why are you so obsessed with Karumi? There’s nothing wrong with him. I don’t remember him saying anything important. Maybe one of the old ladies had some aches and pains, but I don’t remember which one.”
“Oh Mother. Where have out loved ones gone? Where are they now?”
“No. What did Karim say? Are they all well at home?”
“They’re all fine. Why shouldn’t they be? It’s you ...” He struck the edge of the chair with the flat of his hand. “It’s you, Midhat. What’s wrong? Why are you sitting with us in this stable, leaving your lovely wife alone at home? Do you know what you’re missing?”
Midhat watched his own arm reaching for his glass of arak and ra
ising it slowly to his lips. He felt the bitter liquid’s stinging heat in his entrails.
“Thanks, Abu Suha. I’m quite at ease with you all now. This isn’t a stable, by the way. Or a barn. I feel comfortable with you. I mean nobody’s sitting here planning to cheat on his brother, are they? There’s nothing like that going on. We’re both here to have a drink, the same as Abu Shakir and Abu Ba’bu, sorry, I mean Abu Ab’ub. We’re all friends here. Nobody’s cheating on anybody Okay, so why do you say this is a stable? Animals, Abu Suha, if you want to talk about animals—I mean, they don’t know how to cheat on each other. They don’t have the time. Would I have any interest in hatching plots just to amuse myself? What are you talking about? Are these crossword clues? And secondly I’m not missing anything, because all you’ve got to lose in this stinking world is your life. My life, in this case ...”
“I’m sorry, Midhat.”
“My life’s with you. With the stupid, pure-hearted herd. I’m happy with these good folk. Why? Because they don’t trample on other people’s rights. Why not? Because they’re cretins.”
Midhat heard stifled laughter and turned round. Abu Ab’ub was staring gravely at him, while Abu Shakir tittered vaguely. Midhat had the feeling someone was talking to him. Husayn had his mouth full and was chewing with difficulty. Midhat looked back at Abu Ab’ub. “What did you say?” he asked him,
“Have a drink, my dear friend.”
“Your health, Abu Ba’bu . . . Ab’ub. I’m very sorry I didn’t get to know you before. And by the way, Abu Suha, I’m not missing anything. And the people you’re talking about—actually I have nothing to do with them. I don’t understand them. That’s to say, I don’t know what they want from me. I mean, what they wanted.”
“Are you far away from your family?” Abu Ab’ub put his glass down, looking at him with eyes dark as a wolf’s. It was easy to believe he was a shepherd.
“My family? First of all, what’s a family, Abu Ba’bub ... Ab’ub?”
The Long Way Back Page 25