She had meant to say, "Perhaps presenting only one instead of both served to confirm for them the rumor they had heard about the beauty of the younger girl". She stopped herself partly from fear of increasing his anger and partly from apprehension at openly stating this fact that was linked in her mind to gloomy anxieties and worries. She caught herself and concluded her statement with a mere gesture of her hand, as if to say, "And so on and so forth".
Al-Sayyid Ahmad glared at her until she lowered her eyes submissively. He became resentful and sad, compressing the anger within his heart. He began to pound his chest, trying to get some relief or company for his sorrow. Then he shouted in a stormy voice, "Now we know everything. Here’s a suitor asking for your daughter’s hand. So let me hear your opinion".
She felt that his question was dragging her into a bottomless pit. Holding her hands out subserviently, she replied without any hesitation, "My opinion is the same as yours, sir. I have no opinion of my own".
He roared back, "If that was so, you wouldn't have mentioned the matter to me at all".
She said apprehensively and devotedly, "Sir, I mentioned it to you only to keep you informed about the new development, since it’s my duty to let you know everything that affects your home, coming from near or far".
He shook his head peevishly and said, "Who knows… yes, by God, who knows? You're just a woman, and no woman has a fully developed mind. And the topic of marriage in particular is enough to make you women lose your senses. So perhaps you…"
She interrupted him in a trembling voice: "Sir, I seek refuge with God from what you suspect. Khadija is my daughter and my flesh and blood just as much as yours… What’s happening to her is breaking my heart. Aisha’s still in the first bloom of youth. It won't hurt her to wait till God brings help for her sister".
Her husband was nervously smoothing his thick mustache with the palm of his hand. Then he stopped suddenly as though he had remembered something. He asked, "Does Khadija know?"
"Yes, sir".
He waved his hand angrily and shouted, "How can this officer ask for the hand of Aisha despite the fact that no one has seen her?"
Although her heart was throbbing, she replied heatedly, "I told you, sir, perhaps they heard something about her".
"But he works in the Gamaliya police station-in other words, in our area. It’s as though he lived here".
His wife replied very emotionally, "No man has ever seen either of my daughters since they stopped going to school when they were little girls.
He struck his hands together and shouted at her, "Not so fast… Slow down. Do you think I have any doubts about that, woman? If I did, not even murder would satisfy me. I'm just talking about what will go through the minds of some people who don't know us. 'No man has ever seen either of my daughters…' God’s will be done. Would you have wanted a man to see them? What a crazy prattler you are. I'm repeating what might be rumored by fools. Yes… he’s an officer in the area. He walks along our streets morning and evening. So it’s not out of the question that people, if they learned he was marrying one of the girls, would suspect that he might have seen one of them. I would despise giving my daughter to someone if that meant stirring up doubts about my honor. No daughter of mine will marry a man until I am satisfied that his primary motive for marrying her is a sincere desire to be related to me… me… me… me. 'No man has ever seen either of my daughters…' Congratulations, Mrs. Amina, congratulations".
The mother listened with her head bowed, not uttering a word. The room was still. Then the man rose, signaling that he was going to put on his street clothes and return to his shop. She quickly got up. Her husband took his arms out of the sleeves of his house shirt and raised it to take it off but stopped before the neck of the shirt had gone past his chin. With the garment folded around his shoulders like the mane of a lion, he asked, "Didn't Mr. Fahmy understand the seriousness of the request his friend was making?" Nodding his head sadly, he continued: "People envy me my three sons. The truth is that all I've got are daughters… five daughters".
26
Once al-Sayyid Ahmad left the house, they soon learned what he thought about Aisha’s engagement. Although his opinion was accepted without opposition by people obliged to agree with him, it reverberated inside each of them in different ways. Fahmy was sorry to hear the news. He was unhappy Aisha was going to lose a fine husband like his friend Hasan Ibrahim. Before his father’s decision, Fahmy had wavered between enthusiasm for the prospective bridegroom and sympathy for Khadija’s delicate position. When the matter was settled, the part of him pitying Khadija found relief, while the other part wishing for Aisha’s happiness was sad. This sorrow gave him the courage to state his opinion openly: "Without any doubt, Khadija’s future is of concern to all of us, but I don't agree with the insistence on forbidding Aisha to take advantage of her opportunities. A person’s fortune is part of the invisible world known only to God. Perhaps God has stored up an even better fortune for the person forced to wait".
Khadija was possibly the one who felt most uncomfortable, since this was the second time she had stood in the way of her sister’s getting married. She brooded about her anguish, not while her future was on the line, but after her father’s categorical decision, when the danger threatening her had retreated. Then her anger and pain faded away, to be replaced by a distressing feeling of embarrassment and anguish. Fahmy’s words did not please her, because deep inside she wanted everyone to support her father’s decision and leave her the only one opposing it. All the same, she commented, "Fahmy was right in what he said. That’s what I've thought all along".
Yasin reaffirmed his idea: "Marriage is the destiny of every living creature… Have no fear… Don't panic".
He contented himself with this general observation, even though he was very fond of Aisha and indignant over the injustice that had befallen her. He was afraid that if he stated his opinion frankly, Khadija might misunderstand and suspect some link between this and the innocent squabbles that frequently broke out between them. His sensitivity about being a half brother also prevented him from volunteering an opinion that might offend a family member whenever they confronted a serious matter of delicate family business.
Aisha had not uttered a word but finally forced herself to speak, so her silence would not betray her pain, which she was determined to conceal. She would pretend to have no feelings about the engagement, no matter how much that distressed her, and announce her relief about the outcome, to conform with the atmosphere of the household that did not allow human emotions their rightful place and where the affections of the heart were hidden behind veils of self-denial and hypocrisy. So she said, "It wouldn't be right for me to marry before Khadija. The best thing by far is what my father has decided". She continued with a smile: "Why should you all be in such a hurry to get married? How do you know that we'll enjoy as happy a life in our spouse’s home as we do here in our father’s house?"
When, as usual, they picked up their conversation around the stove that evening, Aisha did not hesitate to participate in it as much as she was able, given her wandering thoughts and the disintegration of her ego. In truth, she resembled nothing so much as a chicken with its head cut off, darting about with outspread wings, bursting with vitality and energy at the very moment blood flowed from its neck, draining away the last drops of life.
Aisha had anticipated what would happen even before the matter was presented to her father. All the same, she had nourished a glimmer of hope in her dreams, like one of us tempted by the hope of winning first prize in a major lottery. At first, influenced by the generosity that comes with victory or happiness and by affection for her unlucky sister, she had been willing to object to getting married. Now her generosity had faded away and her affection had dwindled. Nothing remained but resentment, anger, and despair. There was not a thing she could do about it. This was her father’s will and she could not criticize it. All she could do was submit and obey. In fact, she had to be happy and content
. To be despondent would be an unforgivable offense. To protest would be a sin her conscience and sense of etiquette could not allow. From the intoxication of bounteous happiness that had elated her night and day she awoke to despair. How gloomy the darkness seemed coming immediately after dazzling light. Thus the pain was not limited to the current darkness but was doubled many times over by regret for the light that had vanished. She asked herself why, since light had been able to shine for a while, it could not keep on shining. Why should it die out? Why had it died out? It was a new regret to add to the others-drawn from memories, the present, and dreams of the future-that sorrow was weaving around her heart. Although she was sunk in thought about this and it dominated her feelings, she wondered again, as though for the first time, whether the light had really gone out. The bitter truth seemed to be bombarding her emotions for the very first time.
Had the ties been severed between her and the young man who had filled her heart and imagination? Here was a new question, no matter how often it was repeated, and a new shock even though it had already penetrated her very bones. Her searing regret kept getting buffeted by the despair consuming her and the hopes fluttering in the air. Whenever a hope took flight, regret returned and settled deep inside her, to float back to the surface time and again, until it was firmly established. When her soul had bade farewell to the last of her hopes, regret became an inseparable part of her.
It was over, as though he had never existed. There was no way to get him now. How easy it was for them. They treated it like an everyday affair, as though remarking, "What are we going to eat tomorrow?" or "I had a strange dream last night" or even "You can smell the jasmine all over the roof terrace". A word here and a word there… a suggestion to announce and an opinion to explain. They were strangely calm and reserved, offering her smiling condolences and jesting encouragement. Then the topic of conversation would change and branch out.
Everything had ended. It would be incorporated into the family history and forgotten. How did her heart fit in with all this? She did not have a heart. No one imagined she had one. So in reality it did not exist. How alienated she felt. She was lost and abandoned. They were not part of her. She was not part of them. She was alone, banished, disowned. How could she forget that a single word bestowed by her father’s tongue would suffice to change the face of the world and turn her into a new person? Just one word, the expression "yes," would be enough to produce a miracle. It would not have cost him a tenth of the effort that went into the long discussion leading to his refusal. Yet he had willed otherwise and had been pleased to let her suffer all this torment.
Although she was hurt, angry, and resentful, these emotions could not touch her father. They fell back impotently like a wild animal stopped by its trainer, whom it loves and fears. Aisha was not able to attack her father, not even in the depths of her heart. She continued in her love and devotion for him. She felt sincerely dutiful to him, as though he were a god whose decree could only be received with submission, love, and loyalty.
That evening the young girl tightened the rope of despair around her delicate neck. Her sensitive heart believed it had dried up and become barren forever. The role of happy indifference she had resolved to assume with her family doubled her nervous tension, as did participation in their conversation, which she imposed on herself. Finally her golden head bowed under the strain and their voices became a dull clamor in her ears. As soon as it was time to withdraw to the bedroom she collapsed there in exhaustion like an invalid. In the security provided by the darkness of the room, her face frowned for the first time, presenting an accurate reflection of the state of her heart.
Someone was still watching her, Khadija, but Aisha had been sure from the start that dissimulation would be useless with her. When they were at the coffee hour, she had avoided her eyes. Now that she was sitting beside her, there was no escape and no place to flee. Aisha expected her sister to pounce on the subject with her customary resolve. She waited from one moment to the next for the sound of her voice. Her heart welcomed the conversation, but not because it would give birth to any new hope. She wished to find some consolation in the excuses and anguish her sister would certainly express truthfully.
She did not have long to wait before Khadija’s voice did make its way to her through the darkness: "Aisha, I'm really sorry, but God knows there’s nothing I can do. I wish I had enough courage to ask Father to change his mind".
Aisha wondered whether these words were sincere or hypocritical. She reacted immediately to her sister’s sad tones with a feeling of annoyance. Even so, she was forced to resume the false voice of happy indifference she had used throughout the coffee hour with her mother. She replied, "What’s there to be sad or despondent about? My father wasn't in error. He wasn't unjust. There’s no need to be in a hurry".
"This is the second time your marriage has been delayed because of me".
"I'm not sorry at all".
Khadija observed pointedly, "But this time’s not like the first".
As quick as lightning Aisha realized what her sister meant. Her heart pounded painfully with love and regret, weeping from passion and love. It was a hidden love, which could be awakened by any hint reaching it from outside, whether intentional or accidental, like a sore or a boil that hurts when touched or pierced. She started to talk, but was forced to stop because she was out of breath. She was afraid her voice would give her away.
Then Khadija sighed and remarked, "That’s why you find me so sad and melancholy. But our Lord is generous. There’s no distress that’s not followed by relief. Perhaps he'll wait and be patient, so he becomes your destiny no matter how unlikely that seems now".
Every part of Aisha’s body cried out, "If only that were so!" But her tongue said, "It’s all the same to me. The matter’s simpler than you think".
"I hope that’s the case. I'm very sad and upset, Aisha".
The door opened suddenly, and the form of Kamal could be made out in the faint light slipping in from the crack of the door. Khadija shouted at him crossly, "Why have you come? What do you want?"
The boy answered in a tone that revealed his indignation at her rude reception, "Don't drive me away… Make room for me".
He jumped onto the bed and knelt between them. He put out a hand to each of them and began to tickle them. He wished to create a better atmosphere for his discussion than that suggested by Khadija’s rebuff. They grabbed his hands, however, and said one after the other, "It’s time for you to go to bed. Go and sleep".
He shouted angrily, "I won't go until I learn what I've come to ask you about".
"What do you want to ask about at this hour of the night?"
Changing his tone in hopes they would pay attention to him, he asked, "I want to know whether you'll both leave the house when you get married".
Khadija yelled at him, "Wait till the marriage takes place!"
He asked obstinately, "But what is marriage?"
"How can I answer you when I haven't been married?… Go and sleep. May God protect you from evil".
"I wont go until I find out".
"My dear, trust in God and leave us".
In a sad voice he said, "I want to know if you'll both leave the house when you get married".
She replied angrily, "Yes, sir… What else do you want?"
He said anxiously. Then don't get married. That’s what I want".
"We hear and obey".
Then he went on, protesting excitedly, "I can't bear for you to go far away from us. I'll pray to God that you never get married".
Khadija shouted, "Straight from your mouth to the portals of heaven… Great… wonderful. May our Lord be generous to you. Be kind enough to leave us in peace".
27
A feeling spread through the household that they would have a day’s reprieve from their oppressively prim life. Safe from their guardian’s eye, they would be able, if they so desired, to get an innocent breath of fresh air. Kamal was of the opinion that he could do as he wish
ed and spend the whole day playing, inside the house and out. Khadija and Aisha wondered if they might slip over to Maryam’s house in the evening to spend an hour there having fun and amusing themselves.
This break did not come as a result of the passing of the gloomy winter months and the arrival of the first signs of spring with intimations of warmth and good cheer. It was not occasioned by spring granting this family liberty they had been deprived of by winter. This respite came as a natural consequence of a business trip, lasting a day or more, that al-Sayyid Ahmad made to Port Said every few years. It so happened that he set out on a Friday morning when the weekly holiday brought the family together. They all responded eagerly to the freedom and the peaceful, relaxed atmosphere the father’s departure from Cairo had unexpectedly created.
The mother hesitantly dashed the girls' hopes and the young boy’s high spirits. She wanted to make sure the family persisted with its customary schedule and adhered, even when the father was absent, to the same rules it observed when he was present. She was more concerned to keep from vexing him than she was convinced that he was right to be so severe and stern.
Before she knew what was happening, though, here was Yasin saying, "Don't oppose God’s plan… Nobody else lives like us. In fact, I want to say something novel… Why don't you have some fun too? What do you all think about this suggestion?"
Their eyes looked at him in astonishment, but no one said a word. Perhaps, like their mother, who gave him a critical look, they did not take what he was saying seriously. All the same, he continued: "Why are you looking at me like this? I haven't contravened any of the directives of the Prophet recorded in the revered collection of al-Bukhari. Praise God, no crime has been committed. All it would amount to is a brief excursion to have a look at a little of the district you've lived in for forty years but never seen".
Palace Walk tct-1 Page 19
