Papa Sartre: A Modern Arabic Novel (Modern Arabic Literature)

by Ali Bader

  45

  One day Yaqo went to Yusif’s bar and began drinking. He told the owner that he wanted to buy the bar, took out his purse, and placed it on the counter. Yusif refused to sell and asked Yaqo to leave. “Do you know who you’re talking to?” asked Yaqo. Yusif responded, in front of everyone present, by spitting in Yaqo’s face. Yaqo went after him with a bottle of arrack, but the waiters intervened. Yaqo threatened Yusif angrily, telling him, “I will rape your daughter and spit on your face.”

  Two days later Rujina ran away from home and went to Yaqo’s house with the help of Saadun, who used to look after Yaqo’s horses. She gave herself to the rich landowner, and Saadun broadcast the news of Yaqo and Rujina’s marriage to the whole village the following Sunday. When Yusif heard the news, he closed his bar and went home. He collapsed on the front steps and died of consternation on his daughter’s wedding day.

  46

  Two months after the wedding Yaqo lost interest in Rujina and began spending time with a mistress. He left Saadun in charge of his household and horses while he took to drinking and gambling.

  Rujina became Saadun’s mistress and received him openly in her bedroom. He had a good deal for sure: enjoying the land, money, and Rujina. It became known throughout the village that Rujina had a Muslim lover. Her cousin Michael was furious and tried to kill Saadun, but the shot only hit him in the shoulder. Fearing for his life, Saadun ran away, never to be seen again, while Michael stayed on Yaqo’s property to protect Rujina.

  One day Michael got drunk and saw Rujina half naked in her room; he tried to rape her, but she pushed him away and hit him over the head with an iron bar. Before he died, Michael confessed to the investigator that Rujina had acted in self-defense when he tried to rape her. Rujina was released from prison and left Talkif for good. She took the first train to Baghdad, where Saadun was waiting for her.

  Saadun took Rujina to his employer’s house, and the same evening he recommended her as the new maid. From that day forward Rujina worked as a housemaid for the respectable Amin Shawkat. There she stirred the passions of the young boy who was growing up before her eyes. She was aware of the limits of his sexuality, however, and increased the dosage gradually. From his encounters with her he concluded that this woman was greater than the pure woman and the tainted woman superior to the clean woman. The woman who prostituted herself was far greater than the white dove. Abd al-Rahman was more familiar with the physicality of tainted creatures, and they inspired his thinking.

  47

  One day, as Abd al-Rahman was going downstairs, he heard the sound of the servants’ shower near the kitchen. He guessed that Rujina was taking a shower, and this motivated him to go to the door. His heart was racing. He was torn between desire and panic, and fearful of being caught he almost ran away. Curiosity prevailed. He peeped through the keyhole and saw Rujina under the shower, her naked body luxuriating under the hot water. He stared at her round breasts, her dark nipples, where he knew the pleasure was. The sight of her smooth thighs, slim legs, and delicate hips excited him, and he struggled to see more through the narrow keyhole. Suddenly he heard a noise close by, and when he turned his head he saw Saadun smiling at him. Embarrassed, he tried to justify his being there, “I was trying to find out who was in the bathroom.”

  “I want to know too,” said Saadun, still smiling, then pushed the boy aside and looked through the keyhole. He knocked three times, and Rujina let him in and locked the door behind him. Abd al-Rahman wanted to run away and hide in his room, but when he heard the sound of the running water and the moans of pleasure coming from behind the door he peeped through the keyhole again and saw the two naked bodies touching gently under the hot water, surrounded by white steam.

  48

  He often recalled the exciting scene he had glimpsed through the keyhole. It was a fascinating image that remained forever embedded in his mind. Such vivid images fueled his imagination and were revived every time he showered.

  49

  Saadun, the carriage driver, was a very elegant man. His clothes were old and worn from frequent ironing, but they were clean. His thick hair had a few streaks of white, but his mustache was black. His piercing gaze and stern features made a strong impact. One day a relative of the family saw him leaving the garden in the direction of the stable, carrying a tray. She asked the lady of the house about him, “It’s Saadun. He looks after our horses.” The woman laughed loudly, “He has the face of a master and does the work of a servant.”

  50

  After the bathroom incident the young boy became attached to Saadun. They often went on walks and outings together, and Abd al-Rahman liked Saadun’s proud demeanor, his eloquence, and his ability to seize an opportunity without hesitation. Those were qualities he himself lacked.

  One day Abd al-Rahman was out walking in the garden when he saw Saadun washing his hands, preparing to go out. Saadun smiled at the boy, opened the main door, and left. The boy ran after him and asked him where he was going.

  “Would you like to come along?” asked Saadun.

  “Yes,” replied the boy.

  “Go tell your father that you’re coming with me.” Abd alRahman’s father, wearing his traditional clothes, was observing the scene from the second floor balcony. Before the boy spoke the father nodded his head approvingly.

  51

  The two walked together through the muddy path that separated the house gardens from the surrounding fields. Saadun was whistling and walked fast, taking long steps, his hands in his pockets. The boy hurried behind, stopping every now and then to remove a pebble or a piece of fruit that had fallen from a tree. When they reached the main road, they headed toward the city drainage stations, where many fellahin fleeing the harshness of their feudalistic masters had established a shantytown. They came to the city looking for work as unskilled laborers, shoeshine boys, cigarette vendors, hawkers, gardeners, or café servers. The Baghdadis called them al-Shuruqiya.

  Saadun and Abd al-Rahman crossed the muddy wall that separated the shantytown from the street. Young boys swam in the dirty swamps with water buffalo fighting tick bites. The smell was unbearable, and the sight of putrid garbage was disgusting, but they soon left this squalid part of the city. They headed toward a group of mud houses behind the huts until they reached a small café with a broken wooden door. Chairs were lined up in front. As soon as they sat down, Ramadan the waiter rushed to offer them two cups of hot tea that they then enjoyed under a warm winter sun. Some other customers, who were playing dominoes, recognized Saadun’s voice and came over. They hugged and greeted him, asking, “What brings you, Saadun? How are you?” Someone tossed two oranges to Saadun. Abd al-Rahman picked up the one that fell under the table and put it in his pocket. Said, the barber whose shop was near the café, came over and greeted Saadun.

  “Oh, son of a bitch.” Saadun laughed. “We’re all children of bitches.”

  Said looked very much like Saadun. He slapped him on his belly, hugged him, and said to those present, “This is not my brother, this is the devil himself.”

  Saadun was soon surrounded by other acquaintances— Salman, Mahmoud al-Qantarji, who was reading the newspaper, and Jabbar. They were talking loudly, cracking jokes, and laughing. Meanwhile Abd al-Rahman was busy observing the street facing him. It was crowded with small carts, motorcycles, and wooden buses that were bursting with people. Cages holding hens and birds, and crates filled with milk containers were strapped on top. The buses were sloshing through the mud, each moving in a different direction, some toward Tayaran Square, and others toward Bab al-Sheikh or Bab al-Sharqi. The boy enjoyed watching all the action but was too timid to ask questions.

  Mahmoud invited Saadun and the boy to lunch, but Saadun declined and got up to leave. They cheerfully bade their friends goodbye and headed to a nearby slaughterhouse. The butchers were standing outside their shops, knives at their waists, aprons stained with blood. Sheep were eating meat scraps and pieces of offal. The potholes in the street were filled
with dry blood. The boy liked this type of dirt because he considered it honest.

  The big-bellied slaughterhouse owner sat outside smoking a water pipe, his bald head shining in the sun. Women were carrying milk jugs, their feet wrapped in white fabric meant to protect them from thorns and dirt. Saadun and Abd al-Rahman stood at the entrance of the slaughterhouse and were soon approached by a fair young woman with skin as white as milk. She pretended to have missed the bus and said to Saadun in a hoarse voice, “We miss you.” She blushed as she talked, and her black eyes twinkled.

  Saadun laughed back at her and touched her lightly with his foot, whispering, “Tomorrow.”

  A bus driver called out his destination, “Bab al-Sheikh, Bab al-Sheikh,” and she rushed off. From the bus she bade them goodbye with a tender gesture.

  “Who’s she?” asked Abd al-Rahman.

  “A friend,” replied Saadun proudly, “isn’t she more beautiful than Rujina?” The boy was quiet as they both walked back to the house.

  52

  Abd al-Rahman relived those images on their way back. He compared them to his family and the whole Iraqi bourgeoisie’s extreme concern with appearances, hiding their dirt under starched collars and clean white shirts. Each day he discovered a different life with Saadun, the gardeners, the washers, the maids, and the driver.

  The boy’s dislike for his family and his relatives grew day by day. He was critical of their inability to enjoy life and have fun, to live in the fast lane, or enjoy physical contact. Those who were unable to perform popular heroic acts he judged harshly and determined a person’s importance solely from appearance. He was resentful of their clothes and their mere existence, their strange illnesses, their annoying voices. He disliked women who did not look like Rujina, with her pure dark face, curly hair, mysterious eyes—and that crime of hers that so stirred his desires. He remembered how she had flirted with him without any feelings of embarrassment.

  53

  At first Abd al-Rahman was not able to establish contacts with people easily. He couldn’t accept the fact that sex was a natural matter, as if he wanted to eternalize his childhood. He wanted to act in a responsible manner, like a mature individual, without tripping.

  During his adolescence, as his masculinity was developing, he felt he was a sacred child. He didn’t want to be like the adults and adopt their values, and he didn’t consider the family sacred. Rather, he wanted to contest all that. Among those around him, Saadun relegated people to the past; Rujina had a past but no family, having even gone as far as to destroy her family; Suleiman the gardener worked to be able to live in the khan; and all Naser wanted was his bottle of arrack. On the opposite side were the large, complex families whose members, both men and women, were dragged down by a life of habits. He mercilessly ridiculed the families in his parents’ circle that he disliked so much, doing his best to assail their narcissistic feelings. He wanted to denounce them and thereby scare and shock his family.

  One day he asked Saadun if he was married. Saadun laughed, “No. For what?”

  Surprised, Abd al-Rahman wondered aloud, “Oh! What’s the point in having a woman?”

  “A married man has one woman, but a single man has many women.” Saadun explained.

  54

  Abd al-Rahman belonged to an aristocratic family, although he did not experience the life enjoyed by his grandfather in his glorious heyday. He was a refined man who had been quite powerful during the Ottoman period. Abd al-Rahman grew up at a time when his family was losing its prestige, position, and power. He was not at all unhappy with his family’s turn of fortune and enjoyed seeing it lose the standing and esteem it had once enjoyed. His grandfather did not talk much as he got older and began to wither away. His mustache, which he used to wear turned upward like a Turk’s, now drooped. He could not help himself and needed to be carried like a child between the garden and the living room. His eyes wilted, and he covered his hair, which had by now turned gray, with an impeccably clean white Turkish cap. A woolen robe covered his combed-cotton pajamas and woolen slippers. He would plant his silver-clad cane and speak with his son in a low voice. He spent most winter days on the covered balcony, where he was protected from the wind and could enjoy the warmth of the sun. He drank his Turkish coffee there. When he wanted to sleep, the servants carried him to his room.

  His grandfather was one of the most prominent figures in Baghdad during the time of Sirri al-Kraidi, who became Baghdad’s wali in 1890. He established the park in Midan Square and, thanks to the astrologers, got close to Sultan Abd al-Majid and spent time at the palace admiring the beautiful gold-clad slaves and young boys from al-Karj. He often spoke of the meals that were served in the palace, the richly set tables, and the food served from gold and silver vessels. He described the cutlery, the pitchers, the glasses, and the incense burners. He married a Turkish woman named Nazla Hanim, and the couple went to Baghdad during the plague days. Right off she was shocked by the city’s ugliness, unhealthy air, unattractive people, and bad food, and she immediately returned to Istanbul. Her husband later joined her, and this is when he met Wali Hasan Wafiq, who joined him in his walks around Istanbul. They were usually preceded by a detachment of horse riders, the slaves of the wali, and another regiment of foot soldiers in military dress, with English guns, and pipes and drums.

  The family lost all this prestige during the royal era. Nazla Hanim said the king was good for nothing.

  55

  Abd al-Rahman spent his teenage years with Saadun wandering the parks, sitting at a café after school, working in the garden and the stable, and even playing poker in Khan Mamu at Bab al-Sheikh. Though his family knew about Saadun’s exploits they didn’t consider expelling him. Abd al-Rahman’s mother caught him twice with Rujina, but she didn’t make a fuss about it and satisfied herself with a reprimand. She explained clearly the reasons for her tolerance, “If it were not for my son’s attachment to you, I would have expelled you long since.” Her husband had once surprised them in a flagrant position in the kitchen as well.

  56

  Abd al-Rahman’s father came upon them in the kitchen a little after midnight when he went down to investigate a suspicious noise. He threw open the door suddenly and turned on the light. The couple was lying on the floor totally naked. Shaken, Rujina stood in front of him without covering herself, while Saadun rushed to get into his clothes. Shawkat Amin’s eyes dwelled on Rujina, who was in no hurry to cover herself. She collected her clothes and went to her room, moving provocatively. After she left, the father reprimanded Saadun, using the same words that his wife had chosen as the reason for keeping him.

  The following day Abd al-Rahman awoke to news of the incident, but that night he saw his father sneak into Rujina’s room. He told Saadun about his father and both found the story amusing. Saadun later offered to take the boy to a brothel, and they decided that they would go the following day.

  57

  The carriage moved slowly down the wet street where a light rain had fallen. Abd al-Rahman was sitting under the black top in the rear of the carriage, taking in the large illuminated posters on al-Rashid Street. He saw signs for Mackintosh English toffee, Van Heusen shoes, the Café Brazil, the Orosdi Back department store, and Jaqmaqji records. Under the reflections of movie house marquees, shop windows displayed gleaming luxuries. Abd al-Rahman was totally absorbed by the sights and wanted to hug the women coming out of the boutiques, posh cafés, and cinema houses.

  On such outings Abd al-Rahman’s liked to stop on al-Rashid Street at Dikket Bab al-Agha to smoke a water pipe, take in a film at the Roxy cinema, or even eat the kebab seller’s semi-fresh food, sold near Mackenzie’s bookshop. Dressed in his black suit, necktie, and cap, he would sit on a metal chair and take in the liveliness of the market around him. Far from his father’s hypocrisy and his mother’s feminine purity and controlled coldness, he loved listening to the popular accent, the boastfulness of the people, the putrid odors. When Saadun asked if he wished to stop this time, he
declined. “Don’t stop today unless it’s for a prostitute,” he laughed loudly. They had hardly reached the end of al-Rashid Street, near the square facing the church, however, when he was overtaken by such fear and anxiety that his knees began knocking.

  58

  Saadun stopped the carriage at the entrance of the narrow alley overlooking al-Rashid Street from the far side of al-Harj market. The prostitutes who stood in front of the house were half naked and unashamedly exhibiting their charms and heavy makeup. Their coarse words evoked laughter. Abd al-Rahman and Saadun stepped out of the carriage and crossed the street toward the alley. The boy’s legs were buckling under him. He was intimidated by the power of the prostitutes, and, self-conscious of his inexperience, he was unable to face them. One of them approached him and asked the boy to follow her. Her face, covered with heavy makeup, betrayed her age, her hair was dyed bright red, she smelled of alcohol, and she was scantily dressed. As soon as Abd al-Rahman heard her say, “Come with me,” he ran away as fast as he could back to the carriage, breathing with great difficulty. He heard the prostitute laughing and calling after him, “Don’t be scared! Come on, I won’t bite you.” He raised his head from his hiding place to check out the situation and saw Saadun talking with the woman. Both went inside the house.