She gasped when he entered her for the first time and wrapped her arms around his naked back, then began panting like him. The way she opened to him took him by surprise; he had the impression he was falling into a bottomless pit. His feelings had been in a state of confusion as he prepared to enter her. The smell of her body, her sweat, her perfume, the touch of her soft fingers, her eyes, her lips, her open thighs had made him want to cry out wildly in a way that was quite unfamiliar to him. The incessant heat welling up in him, threatening to suffocate him, was suddenly extinguished by a jet of ice-cold water. In a few seconds his life was turned upside down. At the moment of penetration, his woman, his beloved, turned out to be a mirage. The next moment he withdrew but his desire left no room for his reason or doubts to operate, so he plunged in again and immediately lost his restraint, and his soul overflowed with the water of life which spurted from him like blood, like the heart’s blood.
Now Midhat too was sitting in the dark hollow in front of the locked door, listening to Husayn continuing to sigh and snuffle ignominiously Midhat did not speak to him,
The memory had hit him like a physical blow, his legs had buckled, and he had sat down slowly on the damp ground. Perhaps the end he wished for was not far away now The end of his confusion, his weariness, and his hopes. He was empty, unable to cry, as he realized when he felt his shoulder come into contact with Husayn’s shaking body. Would he never be able to extinguish the fire inside him by this simple human expedient?
The heavy door squeaked and opened slowly, revealing a skinny apparition lit from behind. Husayn abruptly stopped all the noises he was making and raised his head. A small old woman swathed in black was standing before them in the doorway.
“Who’s that? Who are you, son?” she said.
“Aunt Atiya, is that you? Good evening. We’ve been knocking on the door for an hour. Why did you wake up now? It’s because of the fast and the meal before dawn, isn’t it? Thank God! I’m dying of hunger, Aunt. Some hot soup and a shish kebab will do nicely Come in, Midhat. Auntie, this is Midhat. Nuriya’s son. You know him. I’ve invited him to eat with us. Come in. How’s my uncle? I haven’t seen him since this morning.”
Husayn coughed repeatedly as he got to his reet, blowing his nose and wiping his mouth and eves. Midhat glimpsed him for a moment in the light from the house. His nose was red and damp, and a strand of hair was stuck to his forehead. He was like a child who had just been woken up.
The old woman went back inside without a word, leaving the door ajar. Husayn pushed it open and went in, holding Midhat’s arm. The entry was narrow. Some light filtered into the yard of the house, and it was full of the smell of food.
“All we need now is to find that out brother the Hajji has eaten all the soup,” murmured Husayn, still wiping his nose and eyes.
Chapter
Eleven
T hey walked cautiously along next to the tumbledown wall avoiding the middle of the alley, which was full of mud and puddles. Her sister Suha was in front of her, talking loudly.
“Today Miss Suhaila gave Aida ten strokes of the ruler. She began to cry like anything. You wouldn’t believe how much she cried and screamed.”
“Why does she get hit all the time? Is she cheeky?”
“You’re so stupid, Sana. Do you think you only get hit when you’re cheeky? She can’t do her sums. She’s useless at arithmetic. She’s really stupid.”
“You’re the stupid one.”
“Shut up. It’s none of your business anyway”
“You shut up.”
“You.”
“I swear if grandfather wasn’t ill I’d tell him you hit me, Suha.”
“Liar. Idiot.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Suha did not reply but gave a little jump across the alley and continued walking on the other side. The sun shone brightly from a clear blue sky, but there was a cold breeze every now and then.
“Do you know what, Sana?” began Suha again. “I found a sweet in my pocket. From Uncle Midhat’s wedding. I was so happy. It was really good!”
Sana stopped and looked at her. “Did you eat it all?”
“What do you expect? There was only one. It was hidden in my pocket. It was lovely.”
“One?” Sana was sad.
“Yes. I just said, there was only one and I ate it.”
How they had danced and played that night! There was singing, lots of food, and people with their children. She hadn’t woken up till midday, when her mother had woken her. It was a Friday, but they were all silent and cross, enveloped in an air of mystery and not answering her questions. Her Uncle Midhat was nowhere to be seen, and she hadn’t been able to get close to Munira, the beautiful bride. She loved her so!
She saw that her sister was a long way ahead of her, so she summoned all her energy and hurried to catch up. She was always hungry after morning school, but she had a vague feeling that her appetite was not as good as usual and she might not be able to eat anything. Maybe she should fast like her mother and grandmother. Her grandfather had fallen ill after a week of fasting. Her grandmother said that every year it was the same: he fasted for a week then got ill. I low Sana hated to see him in bed, huddled up under the covers like a helpless kitten. And he moaned constantly; it had upset her to hear him when she went up with her mother to take him his food and medicine.
“What’s wrong with you, Sana?” shouted her sister. “You’re treading in the mud, you stupid thing. Look where you’re going.”
Her sister’s voice made her jump. The edge of her white shoe was splashed with dark specks of mud. She moved to one side, stamped her foot hard a few times, then continued on her way without looking up. She had felt for the past few days now as if there was a black cloud hanging over her. She could not even understand most of her lessons any more. Luckily the mid-term exam had gone well, and there were no more exams for the time being.
As she turned into the alley leading to the house, her sister began to run. She watched her dress and hair dancing as she moved. How she had scared her when she shouted! She would tell her mother. No, then her mother would ask her about her dirty shoes. She’d tell her grandmother and Umm Hasan and Aunt Safiya, and also Munira, her beautiful friend. She’d go to her room, where she shut herself in these days, knock gently on the door, as Munira had taught her, and ask permission to tell her how that stupid Suha had scared her by shouting at her all of a sudden.
She went in through the half-open double doors and quickened her pace down the long passage, wondering if she was ill: she didn’t feel like eating, couldn’t understand the lessons at school, and was too tired to run. She must tell her mother about it. She opened the middle door slowly and saw her grandmother in the yard outside the kitchen.
“Hello, Bibi,” she said.
“Come here, Sana, my sweetheart,” exclaimed her grandmother. “The Lord must have sent you. Run and buy us ten rounds of bread, quickly. That wretched sister of yours doesn’t hear a word anybody says to her. Come along, dear. Here’s the money. hurry up, now. You know the old women are going to start making a fuss shortly. Come along. Let’s try and avoid that.”
“Yes, Bibi.”
She put her books down on the bench outside the kitchen door and took the money from her grandmother but hesitated a little before heading towards the door again. Should she tell her grandmother how tired and lethargic she felt, how she couldn’t run? But then who would go and fetch the bread? She would wait and tell her everything when she returned.
She went back down the chilly passageway and out into the alley, and set off for the baker’s in Kilani Street. Her grandmother loved her more than Suha. She gave her a lot of sweets and extra food, but she also made her work too hard, just as she made Sana’s mother work too hard. It didn’t matter. Still, they ought to know how rough Suha was with her, and how she was always yelling at her and frightening her. She was crazy, talking at the top of her voice whenever she wanted to say something. Why didn’t she spea
k kindly and patiently to her like other people did, especially her Aunt Munira? She’d broken a tea glass and saucer on her way into Munira’s room the day before yesterday. Munira had jumped out of bed in alarm, but when she saw who it was, she had calmed down and hugged her and kissed her and not said a word. Then together they had hidden the broken pieces away out of sight. She had smelt so nice, and her arms had felt so soft! Then Auntie Munira had told her that from now on she shouldn’t come into the room without knocking and waiting for a reply, and Sana had said she was sorry she’d forgotten although the teacher had taught them that a long time ago. She had been going to tell her aunt something important, but it had slipped her mind when the silly glass broke. The alleyway was empty and in deep shadow, and the cars and carriages sped past at the bottom along Kilani Street. All of a sudden her Uncle Abd al-Karim came round the corner. They exchanged smiles.
“Where are you going, Sana?” asked her uncle.
“To buy some bread, Uncle. Bibi gave me money and told me to buy ten rounds.”
“Fine. Come on, then.”
He took her hand gently and they walked towards the baker’s. She was delighted to have his company and looked up at him gratefully, pressing her fingertips into his palm. He looked sad and pale and was walking heavily. He wouldn’t give her the bread to carry although she pleaded with him.
“Uncle, are you fasting?” she asked him, darting all around him as they approached the house.
“No.”
She pushed the double doors wide open. “Uncle, where’s Uncle?”
She closed the doors and followed him. He was walking ahead of her in silence.
“Uncle. Where’s Uncle?”
He gave her the discs of bread just before they reached the end of the passage, then pushed open the middle door, and indicated to her to go in. For a moment she looked at him, crestfallen, then went towards the kitchen. She put the bread away The kitchen was empty and warm, filled with the smell of food. She hadn’t wanted to annoy her Uncle Karim, but had thought that he was the only one who might give her an answer at last. His silence had hurt her. She went to fetch her books and found someone had knocked them carelessly on to the ground. She bent to gather them up without a murmur. Why hadn’t her uncle told her anything?
She heard her mother calling, “Sana. Sana.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Where on earth were you?”
She was looking down at her from the gallery outside their room.
“Buying bread, Mum.”
Her grandmother called from somewhere below, “I sent her, Madiha, love. I sent her.”
“Warm bread?” came Aunt Safiya’s voice. “For God’s sake give me a taste. We’re dying of hunger here, people.”
Her grandmother emerged from a room near the basement carrying dishes and cooking pots and other utensils. She saw her noticing her Uncle Abd al-Karim as he was about to go upstairs and calling him. He stopped, and she hurried over and began talking to him. Sana remained standing in the doorway of the warm kitchen, her hands hanging despondently by her sides, watching the two of them whispering intently together in the sunshine. She knew they were discussing important matters which she wasn’t allowed to hear. She was just a little girl with no opinions and nothing to say. She couldn’t even ask questions about people she loved.
Her legs felt as if they were about to give way Buying the bread had tired her out this time.
“Mother, please, serve the dinner,” called her own mother from the gallery. “All hell’s about to break loose up here.”
Then she fell silent when she saw Sana’s grandmother and uncle talking and hurried towards the top of the stairs. She was going to join them and share in their conversation. Sana went towards the stairs herself. She walked slowly, carrying her books under her arm, head down, looking at the ground as if she was counting the bricks. Perhaps she would catch a few words. She heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs and hoped she’d reach Uncle Karumi and her grandmother first. As her shadow fell on the two of them her uncle’s voice reached her ears. “No,” he was saying. Then before she could hear any more, her mother said sharply, “Sana. Have you washed your hands?” Her eyes were blazing. Sana drew back, afraid. “No, Mum. I forgot. I’ll go and wash them now”
She ran back over to the washbasin which was next to the kitchen and put her books carefully on the ground against the wall. Her heart was pounding, and she felt as if she was about to burst into tears. The youngest in the house, she was the only one who had all this trouble, and nobody bothered to listen to her. The water was cold but she didn’t feel it. She was observing the drops running down between her fingers as she rubbed her hands together. They were dirty, almost black. She heard footsteps in the passageway. She washed her hands with soap again, trying to increase the volume of the brownish lather. Had that pest Suha washed her hands? Nobody had stopped her going upstairs, She had eaten a sweet before lunch, and they hadn’t asked her if she’d washed her hands. They’d left her in peace. The middle door, next to the kitchen, was opened abruptly and Munira walked in. Sana was surprised by the brusqueness of her actions. Munira’s eyes were sad.
“Hello, Auntie Munira,” called Sana.
Munira pushed the abaya down off her shoulders, looking sharply over at the group by the stairs. “Hello, Sana. What are you doing?”
“Washing my hands, Auntie. My mother told me to. Me and Suha have just come back from school. I went to buy some bread and came back with Uncle Karumi.”
Munira was still looking anxiously towards the stairs. Sana wanted to look too, but her grandmother’s voice stopped her. “Hello, Munira, dear. Aren’t you back early today?”
“Yes, Aunt. Today’s Thursday Can I help you with the cooking?”
Sana’s mother detached herself from the group, went silently into the kitchen, and disappeared in the shadows.
“No, dear, there’s nothing to do,” answered Sana’s grandmother. “We just want to shut the old ladies up.”
“Has Karim come back?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have any news?”
Sana stopped drying her hands. Her senses were alerted. She wished she was invisible. If only she was hidden somewhere close by Her grandmother shook her head expansively. “Not a thing. We’ll just have to wait. Today he went...” Then she looked at Sana. “Off you go, Sana, dear. See if your grandfather wants something to eat now.”
Sana looked imploringly at Munira, and Munira reached out a hand and stroked her hair gently.
“Yes, Bibi,” she said to her grandmother, and walked away as slowly as she could.
“Today he went to the office,” she heard her grandmother continuing. “Nobody They said he was on holiday. He couldn’t...”
Sana began going carefully up the poorly lit steps. They would never leave her in peace. Once she had seen her grandfather she would go down again to tell them what he wanted. They would stop talking as she approached them, then ask her to do some other task. They would make her go up and down the stairs again and again, while that sister of hers was sitting in their room playing with the doll or combing her hair, Her grandfather was sitting cross-legged on his bed telling the large yellow beads of his rosary with his spectacles on. She smiled at him. “How are you, Grandpa? Why are you sitting like that?”
“Hello, my pretty little Sana. How are you today?”
She went up to him and climbed on to the bed. “It’s me asking how you are. Not you asking me.” She took hold of his hand and squeezed it playfully. “What kind of illness have you got? I’ve never seen an illness like that. Sitting up on the bed with your glasses on. Why aren’t you lying down, Grandpa?”
She jiggled his hand gently, still smiling at him. His fingers were bony and wrinkled. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“What a nice clean hand, and its smells so good too!”
“Thank you. But your beard’s tickling me, and Bibi said what would you like to eat? I know you’re
not fasting. Bibi says you’ve been ill since the beginning of the week.” She hit him lightly on the back of the hand. “Why do you always get ill after the first week of Ramadan and make us worried about you? Tell me.”
“No I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“I said I’m not telling you.”
“Why not? Don’t you like talking to me, Grandpa? You’re like them.”
“Like who?”
“All of them. Bibi, Uncle, my mother. Even Auntie Munira.”
The joy she normally felt in her grandfather’s company began to ebb away He took her hand and kissed it again. She moved close to him and snuggled up against him in silence.
“What’s the matter with Auntie Munira?” he asked.
“I love her, Grandpa. I really love her. But she’s sad. Maybe about Uncle Midhat. Where is he, Grandpa? Nobody will tell me.”
He squeezed her hand and she clung to him, feeling warmth spread through her. She had a strong desire to cry. He put his arm round her. “Don’t upset yourself, little Sana. You’re still young, my dear. When you’re older you’ll understand everything. Do you know why they don’t talk to you? So as not to upset you. They say to themselves, she’s still young, poor thing, why make her sad?”
“But I won’t get sad, Grandpa. It’s only Suha who upsets me. She’s so naughty and rude and stupid. She never stops. She’s worse than anybody else.” Then she disengaged herself from his arms and confronted him: “Grandpa. Where’s Uncle Midhat?”
His face seemed to crumple slightly and his mouth twitched. He took his eyes off her face. Again she had a secret desire to cry.
“He’s gone away, Sana. He’ll be back in a couple of days. Didn’t you know that?”
His voice was calm and gentle, leaving her no room for doubt. She remained silent, looking into his eyes framed by their spectacles. “Is that true, Grandpa? Swear to God.”
He played with her hair, pulling it down over her face. “Why would I lie to you, little Sana?”
She was watching him through the black hair which fell down over her eyes, and he never once smiled as he caressed her. She sighed audibly “I can’t quarrel with you, Grandpa. So what do you want for lunch? Tell me.”
The Long Way Back Page 27