His lips were dry and pressed shut. He seemed unable to answer her, The door opened violently, and her grandmother burst in carrying a large tray with difficulty.
“Is this what we can expect from you, Sana? While we’re working out fingers to the bone preparing lunch, you’re sitting up here tiring your grandfather with your chatter instead of letting him rest. Get up and fetch that table for me.”
Sana jumped off the bed and rushed to bring the little table from the side of the room and placed it by her grandfather’s bed. Her grandmother put the tray down with a thud.
“You know I’m worn out today, Abu Midhat,” she said to her husband. “One day I’ll drop down dead into the food in that filthy kitchen.”
“God protect you, Bibi.”
“Don’t stand there like that, Sana. Run down and help your mother in the kitchen. Those people upstairs are going to start screaming for their lunch soon. Hurry up, dear.”
“Yes, Bibi,” and she hurried out of her grandfather’s room without looking at him.
The smell of food filled her nostrils, enticing her downstairs, but she stopped on the gallery by her grandparents’ window She could vaguely hear them talking. She was afraid to go closer to the window in case either of them saw her. It was a beautiful day and she felt less tired now She heard footsteps coming up and walked on to the top of the stairs. Munira appeared carrying a huge tray, her face flushed and her hair hanging down on her dark blouse; she was obviously having a lot of trouble walking with the tray. Sana went towards her.
“Why are you carrying that tray Auntie Munira?” she exclaimed.
Munira gestured to her to move out of the way. “Leave me alone, Sana. It’s none of your business. Go in front of me, but give me some room. Don’t worry about me.”
Her face was red; beads of sweat gathered on her forehead and she pressed her tips tightly together. Sana raced ahead of her, feeling a pang at the sight of her. She stumbled at the old ladies’ door because of the clumsy way she was walking, only half looking where her feet were going and half back at Munira’s face. This wasn’t what normally happened. Her mother was the one responsible for taking the food up to the old people. Munira stopped at the corner where the gallery became narrower and balanced the tray on the balustrade. She was breathing rapidly her lips parted now “Open the door, Sana,” she said, waving a hand in her direction.
Sana threw herself at the door of the old people’s room and it flew open, banging against the wall behind it.
“God is most great,” shouted Aunt Safiya in alarm.
Sana walked in calling, “Auntie. Supper’s ready.”
Aunt Safiya was half sitting up in bed, eyes popping and mouth open, fear written on her face. “How can you make make such a commotion, Sana?” she demanded. “Do you have to open the door like that? You’ll kill us, God forgive you. Now, is this out lunch or have they finally decided to poison us?”
Munira’s mother raised her head unenthusiastically. She was lying on the big iron bed opposite the door.
“Sorry, Aunt Safiya,” said Sana. “I was in a bit of a hurry”
Munira entered with difficulty and stood in the middle of the room with her burden. Aunt Safiya looked at her in astonishment.
“Auntie Munira, shall I bring the table so you can put the tray down?” asked Sana.
“No. There’s no need.” She turned to Aunt Safiya. “Can I put the tray on the floor beside you?”
“Yes, my dear,” answered Aunt Safiya at once. “God give you strength, Munira. Bring it here. Put it in front of me, dear. Umm Hasan’s been asleep for an hour. Come along, dear.”
Munira put the tray down carefully beside Aunt Safiya’s bed, as Sana hovered around trying to help.
“What time is it, Munira?” asked Munira’s mother. “When did you get back from school?”
“Not long ago. How are you today?”
“I feel a bit dizzy. What time is it?”
“After one.”
Then Munira sat down beside her mother, looking at the floor. She seemed tired and began wiping the sweat off her face and neck. Aunt Safiya was inspecting the food, gathering herself up, and moving over to the edge of her bed.
“Shall I wake Bibi Umm Hasan?” Sana asked her.
Aunt Safiya shot her a searching glance. “As you wish, my dear. She’s a heavy sleeper. Like one of the seven sleepers of Ephesus. I don’t know if you’ll be able to or not. It’s up to you.” Then she reached for a circle of bread.
Sana went over to her great-grandmother. The old lady was fast asleep, breathing deeply and peacefully. Sana squatted down and took hold of her shoulder and called gently “Bibi, Bibi, wake up. Sit up and have something to eat.”
The old lady opened her eyes and turned slowly towards Sana.
“Wake up and eat, Bibi. Lunch is ready” the little girl repeated.
“Lunch? Aren’t I fasting?”
“No, Bibi. When do you ever fast? Sit up and have your lunch.”
With some effort Umm Hasan sat up in bed. Sana rose to her feet. Munira and her mother still had not moved, and Aunt Safiya, her mouth full, was watching Umm Hasan out of the corner of her eye as she edged towards the tray of food. Sana reached out a hand to help her great-grandmother into a more comfortable sitting position.
“Water, Sana,” grumbled Aunt Safiya. “A glass of water, please, dear. I’ve got something stuck in my gullet. Who’s put a curse on this food?”
“All right, Aunt. I’ll go and get some water.” As she went out she turned towards Munira. “Auntie Munira. I’m going down to get a glass of water for Aunt Safiya. Do you want anything?”
Munira’s eyes were solemn. She smiled weakly at Sana and shook her head without saying anything. Sana’s hopes were dashed. She wanted Munira to ask her to run some errand for her, which she could feel enthusiastic about, but to go all that way for the sake of a glass of water to shift a bit of food stuck in Aunt Safiya’s throat would only make her more tired and hungry.
She saw Suha coming out of the kitchen and stopped and called down to her. “Suha, Suha. Bring up a glass of water for Aunt Safiya. Quickly.”
“Who do you think I am? I’m still eating my lunch.”
“She’s going to choke, you stupid thing.”
“It’s nothing to do with me.”
“You’re so stupid.” She hurried crossly along the small gallery and down the dark staircase and met her mother coming out of the kitchen.
“Come and eat, Sana,” said her mother.
“Aunt Safiya wants a glass of water. A piece of food went down the wrong way.”
“All right. You’d better eat with them.”
“They won’t let me, Mum.”
“Come and take some food from here then and go and eat upstairs. Bring the tray down when you’ve finished. Come along. I’ll dish some out for you. I want to wash up and have a bit of a rest before the end of the fast.”
“Yes, Mum. But let me take some water up to Aunt Safiya. She’s going to choke. That stupid Suha wouldn’t get it.”
“Fine. I know that little madam can be a bit naughty sometimes.”
“Yes, Mum. She’s really mean. And stupid.”
“Take your food and go upstairs then. Don’t keep your aunt waiting.”
Carrying a glass of water and her plate of rice mixed with broth, Sana walked carefully back upstairs and along the gallery to the old ladies’ room. Munira’s place was empty and her mother was lying with her back to the door. Aunt Safiya seized the glass eagerly and gulped down some water.
“Where were you?” she exclaimed. “I was dead and now you see me come back to life. I couldn’t stop eating.” She jerked her head towards Umm Hasan. “The food would have been finished and I would still have been hungry. But I couldn’t eat with the food stuck halfway down my gullet, God help me. God bless you, Sana. You’ve saved me from the fires of hell.”
Umm Hasan looked up from the tray with her mouth full. “Why did you say hell? Does o
ne talk about hell when people are eating? What kind of manners do you call that?”
“My dear Umm Hasan, let me eat and fill my stomach if you don’t want me to think about the people who are going to hell for their unjust behavior.”
“Why don’t you fear the Lord, Safiya?”
Sana sat cross-legged on the rug between the two windows with her plate on her lap and began to eat, taking small helpings of the rice and broth between her fingers and listening to the two of them arguing. She leaned back against the wall. The room was hot with the noon sun, and she could hear the faint sounds of her mother washing the dishes. She didn’t enjoy the food; it seemed to lack the particular taste which she liked. Umm Hasan produced a strange noise out of her mouth. Aunt Safiya stopped eating. “What’s that, Umm Hasan?” she demanded. “It’s neither a hiccup not a belch. What’s wrong with you?”
Sana laughed to herself. Umm Hasan didn’t reply. Aunt Safiya turned to Sana. “Sana, my dear. Where’s your uncle?”
“He’s been gone a week now. Since his wedding night,” pronounced Umm Hasan. “As if an angel came down and spirited him away.”
“I’m asking about her Uncle Karumi,” interrupted Aunt Safiya vehemently. “You’re like a broken record. I’m talking about Karumi, not Midhat.”
“I don’t know, Aunt,” replied Sana. “He might be reading in his room.” Then she added, “But where is my Uncle Midhat anyway?”
“You see?” said Umm Hasan at once. “She’s asking about him. Are you deaf? She’s asking about her Uncle Midhat.” She turned to Sana. Her small, lined face, framed by the black headscarf, was devoid of emotion. “An angel took him and flew off with him, dear. Came down on his wedding night and took him away. What’s wrong with that? He’s not the first. Is he, Safiya?”
Aunt Safiya swallowed her mouthful hastily. “What are you talking about? We all know you’re senile, but why are you talking such rubbish in front of the child? An angel indeed! You could say it was luck. How many times did I say to him, and these four walls are my witnesses, ‘My dear Midhat, this isn’t for you. Everyone must go his own way’?”
“That’s exactly what I said to him.”
“You? You’d be better off keeping your mouth shut. You sleep day and night and don’t know whether it’s sunrise or sunset.”
Her great-aunt’s words upset Sana in some mysterious way, and she didn’t understand what the two of them were talking about. “So when’s Uncle Midhat coming back, Aunt?” she asked suddenly.
There was a note of pleading in her voice and she hoped one of them would answer. Neither of them really liked Munira, so for this reason perhaps they would tell her the truth. But they remained silent. Aunt Safiya licked her lips then had a drink of water. Umm Hasan was wiping her mouth with a piece of bread. Sana waited anxiously, while the sound of dishes being washed in the kitchen continued unabated.
“God knows. God knows, my dear,” said Aunt Safiya indifferently putting her glass down.
Umm Hasan returned to bed. Once more Sana felt let down. As the two women prepared for a nap Sana remembered that she had to take the tray and the empty plates down to her mother in the kitchen. She was tired.
She saw the red sun’s rays brush the high rooftop as she fanned the coals under the kebabs. She and her mother were working quickly to finish the last few and her grandmother had already heated the lentil soup and taken it up a few minutes before to the alcove where they were going to break the fast. Suha had also run off with the bread and condiments and a dish of pickles, pretending that she was weighed down by her load. The sun was receding from the treetops in the little garden and falling on the tall brick walls. Everyone was hurrying, and the voice of the man reciting the Quran came from several places at once; it was hoarse and trembling and touched Sana’s heart. Some beads of sweat gathered on her mother’s forehead as she concentrated on turning the kebab skewers.
“My dear!”
Sana lifted her head. Aunt Safiya was standing by the wooden balustrade looking down at them. “Madiha, dear, God give you strength The smoke’s killing us and there’s been a smell of kebabs on and off for an hour now, but nobody’s got their hands on one yet.”
“Be patient, Aunt,” interrupted Sana’s mother. “Patience is a virtue. You ate two hours ago. Everything will soon be ready. Don’t be in such a rush. There are people who’ve been fasting, you know.” Then she lowered her voice and muttered, “Will God not take back what belongs to Him? Why remain a burden on this earth? But you do as you wish, Lord.”
“Madiha, dear,” came Aunt Safiya’s voice again. “Take your time. But I’m starving. The people fasting will get their reward in heaven. If they fast ten minutes extra, their reward will be all the greater. Please, Madiha, just a small kebab and a few pickles and vegetables rolled in a piece of bread, God bless you.”
Sana’s mother shook her head. “There’s no power or strength save in God,” she murmured.
“Madiha. Madiha,” called Sana’s grandmother from the alcove. “Hurry, girl. The muezzin’s about to announce the end of the fast.”
“All right, all right,” she answered wearily. “Don’t make me crazy, all shouting at me at once. Be a bit patient.”
“What does ‘Patience is a virtue’ mean, Mum?” asked Sana.
Her mother looked at her resentfully, “Don’t talk rubbish. I’ll dig the grave of anyone who tells me patience is a virtue. Keep fanning and shut up.”
Sana moved her arm faster, her eyes downcast. The red coals glowed under the kebabs, drops of fat fell on them, and a white spiral of delicious-smelling smoke rose in the air. The yard had filled up with shadows round about Sana and her mother, and the clatter of dishes from the alcove mingled with the whispering of the water put to boil on the stove a while before. The tea wasn’t made vet; her mother would make it when the kebabs were done, then leave the embers to rest. Her grandmother and grandfather, her mother, Munira’s mother, Auntie Munira herself, and Uncle Karim would drink the tea when they’d eaten the kebabs.
A puff of smoke took her by surprise. She jerked her head back and felt her eves stinging and began rubbing them with her free hand.
“Go on, keep fanning. We’re nearly finished. Hurry up. I’ve still got a thousand things to do.”
“The smoke went in my eye, Mum.”
Her mother began gathering up some of the skewers and emptying their contents on to a large dish, then covering them with herbs and discs of white bread. “Get up,” she ordered Sana. “That’s enough for now. Take this upstairs. I’ll make the tea.”
Munira appeared from the shadows and hurried towards them. “Sorry Madiha. I got held up. You go and eat with Sana. I can finish here.”
“No. There’s nothing left to do, and the cannon for the end of the fast hasn’t gone off yet. I’ll make the tea and then I’ll be up. I’m really tired today.”
“I know you are, Madiha. You’re tired all the time. Let me help you.”
Aunt Safiya was calling above their heads. “Don’t forget us, Madiha, dear. We’re at your mercy Collapsing with hunger.”
Picking up the big dish of kebabs without even raising her eyes to look at Aunt Safiya, Munira asked Sana to bring bread, clean plates, and water and walked off towards the dark staircase. Sana stood watching her, her heart overflowing with a fierce emotion. She was never bored being with her, listening to her talk. Earlier in the afternoon she had gone into that magical blue room of hers. Munira was lying on the big blue bed fully clothed, with an abstracted look in her eyes. Sana had come to tell her that they were about to begin making the kebabs. Munira sat up and listened, shoulders hunched. Sana kept talking unnecessarily, just to be with her in her room, touching her and hearing her reply.
She heard her mother coming and got up from in front of the brazier.
“Why are you still here? Take the bread and water and go up before me. Let me finish what I’ve got to do. Don’t forget the plates.”
Sana ran into the kitchen, got o
ut the bread, filled he water jug and put it on the table, slipped the bread under her arm, then picked up a pile of plates in one hand and the jug in the other and went out slowly, avoiding looking at her mother. She climbed the stairs without incident, although she could hardly see where she was treading, and proceeded towards the alcove. They greeted her with smiling faces and relieved her of her burdens, and she was glad to sit down next to Munira’s mother on the sofa. The big tray was on the table, loaded with all sorts of plates and dishes, and in the middle of it sat a huge bowl with a lid; she guessed this must be the soup. Shortly after she sat down, Suha came in with Uncle Abd al-Karim.
“Where have you been, Suha?” asked her grandmother. “You left your little sister to do all the work. That won’t do, my dear. You’re the older one.”
Sana was delighted at these words and waited eagerly for Suha’s reply, but Suha sat down next to her without a word. “Where were you then?” said Sana angrily. Suha didn’t reply. Munira slipped into the room and sat down with them on the sofa.
“Have you given Aunt Safiya and Umm Hasan their kebab sandwiches, Munira?” asked Sana’s grandmother.
“Yes, Aunt.”
She was actually sitting with Munira on the sofa. She was at one end, with her sister Suha sitting next to her, then Munira’s mother and Munira. Facing them was her Uncle Abd al-Karim, morose-looking and silent, staring into space. Her grandmother was sitting cross-legged on a cushion on the floor near the tray Sana leaned forward to look at Munira. She had more make-up on than usual. She was always pretty and nicely made-up. She noticed she was looking over in Abd al-Karim’s direction. The light was dim in the alcove, most of which was in shadow.
“Madiha. Madiha,” called her grandmother. “Come along now Leave the tea to brew and come up. The cannon’s about to go off.”
“Yes. I’ll be there in a minute,” her mother’s voice came from below.
“How’s my father today?” asked Abd al-Karim suddenly. “Isn’t he going to eat with us?”
The Long Way Back Page 28