Laziness in the Fertile Valley

by Albert Cossery

  Serag stepped over a pile of old iron and found himself standing in front of the man. He looked at him for a moment in silence.

  “Hello!

  The man raised his head and replied in an indifferent tone:

  “Hello!”

  He was cooking beans on his wood fire. He was very old, his clothes patched like a beggar’s rags. A long heavy stick was lying near him on the ground.

  “Are you the caretaker?” asked Serag.

  “Yes,” said the man. “What do you want?”

  “Excuse me,” said Serag. “But I’d like to know why they don’t finish this factory.”

  “Allah alone can say,” said the man. “I was told to stay here; that’s all I know.”

  They didn’t speak for a moment. The man took no notice of anything but his beans. He turned them with a piece of iron like a spoon. Now and then he inhaled the aroma and closed his eyes in satisfaction. Serag watched him, irritated and impatient. He wouldn’t learn anything after all!

  “Then you don’t know anything?”

  “Why does it interest you?” asked the man. “Leave the factory alone!”

  ‘Oh well!” said Serag, “I thought I might be able to work here.”

  “You’re looking for work?” asked the man.

  He looked at Serag, perplexed, scrutinizing him from head to toe and shaking his head.

  ‘You don’t look like a workman,” he began. “An effendi like you doesn’t work in a factory.”

  “That’s no reason,” said Serag. “I can work very well. I’ve already been here several times; I could do a lot of things.”

  He was terribly tired. But he forced himself to assume an easy, friendly manner. He wanted the caretaker’s good opinion. He imagined that perhaps he could recommend him to the director of the factory.

  “No, my son. It’s no work for you.”

  The beans were cooked; the man took them off the fire. Before beginning to eat, he said politely:

  “Help yourself.”

  “Thank you,” said Serag. “I’m not hungry.”

  He sat on a large rock, facing the man. The sun burned over the whole countryside; it was almost noon. Serag was hot and thirsty.

  “Have you been here long?”

  “A few months,” said the man. “But I won’t stay much longer. It’s hard work. I have to watch over these stones and piles of iron all the time. There are bandits who come to steal everything. And I’m responsible for it, you understand!”

  “It’s very important work,” said Serag.

  “Extremely important,” said the man. “And I’m the only one who does it. There should be at least forty people to guard all this!”

  Serag had a sudden inspiration. He could help the old man! That would always be a job, while he waited for them to finish the factory.

  “Really, do you need help?”

  “Of course I do,” said the man. “At least forty people.”

  “I’d like to work with you very much,” said Serag. “What do you say?”

  “You want to be a watchman?”

  “Yes, I could help you guard these stones.”

  “My word, you’re a strange boy! What would your mother say?”

  “My mother’s dead. She wouldn’t say anything.”

  “Even so, I can’t. It’s no work for you.”

  “I beg you, say yes! I want to work so much!”

  “Why, do they beat you at home?”

  “No one beats me,” said Serag. “I want to go away. I’ve decided to work.”

  “You’ll make your parents weep,” said the man. “This will be black news for them.”

  The man stopped eating; he appeared to be reflecting. This boy seemed very peculiar to him. He began to suspect he had criminal intentions. Perhaps he was a thief. He wanted information so he could come back at night with his accomplices.

  Serag was full of hope as he waited for the man’s decision.

  “Don’t you want me?”

  “No, I don’t want you,” said the man in a menacing voice. “And I advise you to leave quickly.”

  Serag was alarmed; he didn’t understand.

  “Why are you angry? Pardon me if I’ve bothered you!”

  “Yes, you bother me. Get along and don’t come back. Or I’ll call the police!”

  “The police!” said Serag, choking.

  “I’ll call the police!” the man repeated.

  He seized his long stick, and looked as though he might use it. He had become evil-tempered. He slobbered and some bits of chewed food rolled on to his beard. Serag hesitated a second, then left as fast as he could, without looking back.

  It was over now. He would never work in the factory. His last chance had failed him. This incident with the old man had ended his illusions. He wouldn’t even be able to come look at his dream. Life would become completely monotonous and insipid without this ideal that had sustained him in his worst moments. Serag felt completely discouraged. The factory had played a prominent role in his life; he had thought of it every day, and now, suddenly, he felt lost; he no longer had a pretext to justify his inaction. From now on he wouldn’t be able to deceive himself.

  He had reached the road and walked with his head down, indifferent to the harsh cries of the street vendors who passed. Some servants were doing their marketing, talking in shrill voices. He passed Abou Zeid’s shop without stopping; he was in no mood to hear his lamentations. Anyhow, Abou Zeid was sleeping, stretched out on the threshold of the shop, paying no attention to him. That was a blessing. Serag couldn’t have endured a talk with the peanut vendor. He had no new ideas for him and felt guilty. A little farther on he recognized Hoda among a group of servants standing around a lettuce cart. The young girl saw him too, and came up to him, running. She was carrying a heavy bag of groceries.

  “So this is when you do your marketing,” said Serag. “You’re going to be late with lunch.”

  “It isn’t my fault,” said Hoda. “The master was asleep, and I didn’t have any money. I had to wait till he woke up.”

  “I’m very hungry,” said Serag. “Go on back to the house, girl.”

  “I’ll go back with you,” said Hoda.

  There was no way to get rid of her. Serag saw she was so happy he didn’t dare send her away. Hoda beamed with joy. She took Serag’s hand, and they walked along, hand in hand, like two lovers. Serag was embarrassed when people passed them, but he didn’t draw his hand away. He even liked to be extravagant in front of these people who knew him. Hoda looked at him and smiled.

  “I want to tell you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I was very proud this morning.”

  “Ah! What of, foolish!”

  Hoda swallowed and said very seriously:

  “Before I did the marketing, I walked down the road with Imtissal’s baby. And do you know what people thought?”

  “No.”

  “They thought it was my baby. They smiled at the baby and looked at me with admiration. I was so proud of it!”

  “You’re just a fool! What an idea! So that’s how you spend your time when you should be taking care of the house.”

  “I’m not a fool. I’ve grown up. You’re the one who doesn’t understand anything.”

  She let go of Serag’s hand and walked alone, pouting.

  XI

  You’re going away and leave me all alone!” said Hoda.

  “Yes. I’m going to the city. I can’t stay in this house any longer.”

  That morning, Serag had resolved to leave for the city. Since he had lost the hope of working at the factory, there had been an immense void in his life. He had to fill that void. His visits to the unfinished factory had made him feel he was performing heroic deeds; he had drawn a certain moral strength from them. But now that this chimera had vanished completely, he found himself drawn toward sleep. He couldn’t resist it anymore. Fatally, he was letting himself be overcome by an inexorable idleness. His family’s listl
essness was poisoning him more every day. Thus he had decided to leave as soon as possible. A few more days and he wouldn’t have the strength to try.

  “You won’t do it,” said Hoda. “You’ll make me so unhappy!”

  “Be quiet, foolish! Go do your work!”

  “Where are you going? By Allah, you’ll get lost!”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  He was standing near the window, trying to be stern. He felt this obstinate girl would weaken him; love was even worse than sleep. It was going to be harder than he had realized. He shouldn’t have said anything to her. Now she would arouse the whole house.

  He heard her whimpering and turned around.

  “Now don’t start crying!”

  She wiped her eyes and came up to him, her hands out, imploring him.

  “Stay here! Don’t go away!”

  “Be quiet, you daughter of a whore! They’ll hear you and come to devil me too. I’m sorry I told you I was leaving.”

  “Then take me with you.”

  “You’re mad! I’m not going to load myself down with a girl like you. I have to look for work.”

  “You can’t work. I know you. I’ll work for you!”

  “Don’t be stupid! I’d do anything to leave this house.”

  She realized he had really decided to go, and was panic stricken. How could she stop him from leaving? She only knew the temptations of the flesh. A faint hope rose in her. Her smile was malicious.

  “If you leave, you won’t be able to make love to me.”

  “I don’t want to. Who told you I wanted to make love to you? I’ve other things to do, can’t you understand?”

  “That’s not true!”

  She pressed against him, trying to excite him. But he seemed weary and distant; he pushed her away brutally.

  “Get out! Leave me alone!”

  Hoda fell on the bed, a little stunned by the blow. But she wasn’t through; she was ready to do anything to hold him. Scarcely moving her hand, she raised her dress, completely uncovering her thighs. She spread her legs and waited. The silence was agonizing. She saw him looking at her with a distant, tired stare. She trembled with fear and passion.

  “You don’t want me?”

  He seemed out of his head; he didn’t understand what she meant. He murmured in a desperate voice:

  “No, I don’t want you. I want to leave.”

  She pulled down her dress and got up. She was furious and ready to cry again.

  “No one will keep me from going!”

  Serag watched her leave the room, disturbed. She would tell them now; they would come preach to him. He began to dress hurriedly. He meant to resist their advice and their cowardly temptations.

  Rafik was the first to appear.

  “What’s the matter! Are you leaving?”

  “Yes, I’ve decided to look for work in the city.”

  Rafik was astounded; he’d just woken up. His mind was confused and he couldn’t deal with such a serious situation. It was very difficult. Finally, he said:

  “Have you any money?”

  “What for?”

  “You’re going to the city without any money?”

  “I’m going to work, I tell you. I’ll earn money.”

  “Poor boy! Do you think they’re just waiting to make you a minister?”

  “I don’t want to be a minister! What makes you think I do?”

  “Then what do you want to be?”

  “I don’t know. I beg you, leave me alone. I have to think about what to take.”

  Rafik sat down on the bed, pondering the gravity of the case. He feared the worst for his brother. This idea of looking for work in the city was a trap of the Devil. It would bring all sorts of complications, would utterly destroy the innermost recesses of their retreat. There’d be no end to watches and waiting. Now that the danger of his father’s marriage was almost removed by the news of the hernia, Rafik was dismayed at this new threat to their sleep. It was a vicious circle; they would never get out of it.

  “Listen,” he said. “I’ve discovered a secret.”

  “What secret?” asked Serag.

  “I don’t think Father can marry after all,” said Rafik. “We’ve had incredible luck!”

  “That doesn’t interest me,” said Serag. “Why should I care whether or not Father marries!”

  “O traitor,” said Rafik. “Never mind! I just want you to know we’re in no danger. We’ll be able to sleep peacefully. Life will be pleasant again.”

  “But I don’t want to sleep,” cried Serag. Who told you I wanted to sleep?”

  “No one,” said Rafik. “But all men like to sleep. You’re a monster! I’m not going to waste any more time on you.”

  “You’ve been wearing yourself out for nothing,” said Serag. “I’m going. No one can stop me.”

  Rafik didn’t answer; he looked as though he might fall asleep. He remained silent for a few moments, then opened his eyes and said:

  “You’re not afraid?”

  “What would I be afraid of?”

  “Of streetcars,” said Rafik. “They’re terrible. They crush thousands of people every day!”

  “That’s not true,” said Serag. “You just have to watch out and not walk on the tracks.”

  “But can you watch out?” said Rafik.

  “Why not? I’m not blind.”

  “You’re worse than blind,” said Rafik. “By Allah, you’ll get lost on the way. You won’t be able to get back to the house.”

  “I don’t plan to come back,” said Serag. “You’d better go back to bed. Hoard your energy to watch for Haga Zohra! Why worry about me?”

  “I’m not worried about you, imbecile! I’m thinking about our peace. When you leave all kinds of talk will start. And I don’t want it! Father’s marriage is enough! We’re trying to stop a scandal and you’re already starting another. My God! You’ll kill me!”

  “Ah! That’s what you’re thinking about! I thought it was just your affection for me.”

  “You’re an ass!”

  Serag had finished dressing; he was tying up a bundle that held a few clothes. It was his baggage. He was proud of it; now he was sure of leaving.

  At this moment, they heard a groaning in the hall, and old Hafez appeared in the doorway, supported by Uncle Mustapha, who seemed to be feeling his own importance.

  “What do I hear? You want to leave!”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Where, ungrateful son?”

  “I want to go to the city, Father!”

  “To the city!” cried old Hafez. “You hear! He says he wants to go to the city. What have I done to God to be given such a son?”

  Uncle Mustapha, his tarboosh quivering on his head, his voice authoritative, addressed Rafik:

  “Move a little. Let your father sit down.”

  Rafik drew back against the wall and old Hafez sat down on the edge of the bed. He settled his hernia comfortably between his legs, breathed painfully and said:

  “Now explain this to me. What is this madness?”

  “It’s not madness,” said Serag. “Father, try to understand; I want to work.”

  “Allah help us! You want to work! Why? What don’t you like about this house?”

  “I can’t tell you, Father! I need to go away.”

  “Ungrateful son! I’ve fed you and dressed you all these years and this is my thanks!”

  “What ingratitude is there in wanting to work, Father? I don’t understand.”

  “You want to cover us all with shame!”

  Old Hafez was thinking of the ridicule Serag’s departure would bring the family; he trembled for his marriage. Such a scandal would surely cost him the good will of respectable people. He already had worries enough because of his infirmity which, at least, wouldn’t be seen until his wedding night. But if his youngest son left, and especially to go to work, he would really be overwhelmed by shame.

  “Father, let me go! I promise to come back ton
ight. Don’t worry.”

  “And who says you can come back! You think people can come and go as they please? What if the police arrest you?”

  “Why would the police arrest me?” asked Serag, stunned.

  “For nothing,” said old Hafez. “Then there are the streetcars, the automobiles, the cabs — all kinds of dangers. And what about the government. You’re not afraid of the government?”

  “What’s the government going to do?’

  “The government’s against revolts,” said old Hafez. “They’ll put you under arrest.”

  “But I haven’t done anything against the government,” said Serag.

  “The government won’t ask you for explanations. They’ll lock you up, I tell you!”

  “Because I want to work?”

  “Yes, those are subversive ideas; can’t you understand that? I’d like to know who put such ideas in your head. You were born in an honorable family. I beg you not to ruin our reputation.”

  “Especially right now when we need it,” said Rafik.

  Old Hafez seemed to ignore Rafik, lying behind him on the bed. He had caught the sarcasm in his words, but controlled himself, and gave vent to several menacing groans. He didn’t want to make the scene any worse. His first concern was Serag’s departure. He’d take care of Rafik later.

  “Why are you awake! My word! It’s only dawn!”

  It was Galal, awakened by the noise of the discussion. He feared some new mishap and had come to find out what the trouble was.

  “It’s your brother Serag,” said Rafik. “He’s decided to go to the city to look for work.”

  “Poor boy!” said Galal. “God help him.”

  “God is with the lazy,” said Rafik. “He has nothing to do with the vampires who work.”

  “You’re right,” said Galal. “Where can I sit down?”

  He looked around, saw the bed occupied, and slid down against the wall. He put his head on his knees and went back to sleep.

  “Good heavens, he’s asleep!” said old Hafez. “Galal, wake up! Speak to your brother. You’re the eldest, maybe he’ll listen to you. He doesn’t listen to me, his own father.”