“Raghib? Who is Raghib?”
“Hush, Zahra. Go back to sleep. The electricity is out and the bridge is raised for the boats. We have an hour to wait.”
But Zahra did not sleep. She took out her breast and gave it to the baby, who had also awakened in the dark. Magd al-Din was thinking about the times that he had visited Bahi and how the electricity would be cut off in the night for reasons unknown to the people, and they would talk about it in the morning. There were stories about the police pursuing robbers who had attacked boats going through the Mahmudiya canal, or the arrest of some young men who belonged to political societies. People also knew that sexual harassment took place in the dark; in the dark, a woman would be groped by passers-by who suddenly were behind or next to her, even though she was walking by herself. Therefore, as soon as power was cut off, every woman or girl would try to find another so that they could encourage each other. True, the groping hands would not stop, but the two women would be bolder and shout insults at the man.
A number of men had gathered in front of the bridge, and three women sought safety together in the doorway of the candlelit café. Magd al-Din reached for Zahra to make sure she was there, even though he knew she was. Carriages gathered and drew nearer to each other. The taxicabs, their blue lights barely shining ahead of them, headed for the Karmuz bridge. The driver took out the quinine bottle again and said under his breath, “The boats coming in are chock full of weapons, cannons, and cars. There’re soldiers with flashlights all around them. Seems like the war is coming here.” To Magd al-Din, he said, “Why did you come to Alexandria today? Aren’t you afraid of the war?”
Just then, the streetlights came on, so Magd al-Din did not answer. The bridge began to lower to its normal position on the canal.
As the carriage crossed the bridge, it nearly fell apart going over the potholes. To the right, immediately after the bridge, a strong smell of flour came from a high-walled mill. Its wire-screened windows were covered with fine white flour, making them stand out in the dark. Before the end of the streetcar’s winding tracks at the end of the street, and in front of the police station that occupied a commanding position in the square, the driver turned right onto Ban Street, which people called Twelve Street, because it was twelve meters wide. It was the widest and longest street in the area. Zahra saw several dimly lit streetcars sitting in the square and cried out, “What’s that? A train?”
“It’s a streetcar, Zahra. A streetcar,” Magd al-Din calmly replied.
The driver laughed and asked if it was their first visit to Alexandria. Magd al-Din said yes and fell silent. Once again there was the smell of flour, this time from another mill to the left of the carriage on Ban Street, where the carriage was proceeding with great difficulty, greater even than on the bridge. The street was not paved, only covered with little white stones. A few moments later, Magd al-Din asked the driver to stop. The house was to the right, there was no mistaking it, a small two-story house stuck between two three-story buildings.
“You’re lucky you found me. I just got back from the cafe,” Bahi said, as he made tea for them on a small spirit stove in a corner of the small room.
Magd al-Din, who was stretched out on a mat on the floor, leaning his head to the wall, asked, “What were you doing at the café so late?”
“Nothing, Sheikh Magd—just chatting and drinking tea.”
He laughed as he poured tea in the little glasses. Zahra was squatting with her back to them in another corner of the room, nursing her baby, who had not had her fill in the carriage. How were they all going to sleep in one room? she thought, holding back her tears as she remembered their big house in the village. The baby opened her amber eyes and looked at her mother without letting go of the nipple, then she burst out crying. Did the pain the mother felt flow into her? Probably. Zahra’s feelings, however, soon changed to surprise at how clean and neat Bahi’s room was and at the fragrance of musk that permeated it. She was also surprised at Bahi himself, who wore pants and a shirt like city folk, and white shoes. This is a different man from the one she had seen ten years earlier, she thought. Did Alexandria do this to everyone?
“Why don’t you tell me the real reason you left the village?” Bahi asked. “I didn’t know you hated the village, or loved Alexandria.”
“I told you I’ve been wanting to leave for a long time.”
“And your land?”
“My sisters and their husbands will take care of it.”
“Then you might as well kiss it good-bye.”
Hearing faint moans coming from Zahra’s direction, Bahi asked her, “What’s the matter, Zahra? Why are you crying?”
Magd al-Din had no choice but to tell him the whole story. They all fell silent. Bahi’s silence was the most profound. Had he been such a curse on his family? To this day? What did fate want from him? He had suffered more than enough all these years. Should he have killed himself early on? And all because he was born attractive to women? He had let himself walk anywhere, at any time, but none of the Talibs had killed him. He went through all the horrors of the last war, but fate had not given him a chance to die. He had left his village and wandered through the markets of neighboring villages. A woman selling ghee and butter from Shubra al-Namla picked him up. His reputation had preceded him to all the villages, and he still had those killer eyes that radiated allure. The ghee vendor picked him up while Bahiva was still stalking him, following him to the other villages. In these villages, too, the children no longer chased her—they had gotten tired of it. Bahiya followed him like his shadow. At night she disappeared in the fields, and he hid from her, thinking that she would never find him. In the morning, he would discover she was following him again.
“Don’t follow me in the streets, Bahiya.”
She would smile and run her hands over his chest with a distant look in her eyes. He would see her tears and turn his back on her, almost in tears himself. More than once he thought of grabbing her and standing with her in front of the train. But he could never bring himself to do that; he was too weak to commit suicide, He could see the lines of old age beginning to appear prematurely on her face, and a few thin hairs on her chin. When the ghee vendor picked him up, he let himself go, unafraid of anything. The fiendish thought that he might become the cause of another woman’s madness even occurred to him; he wished he would become the cause of all women’s madness, in all the villages. If only all the women all over the countryside would follow him, thoroughly besotted! It was as if Bahiya knew. She disappeared suddenly. The ghee vendor brazenly invited him to her house, and he went with her without fear, hoping to become the cause of her madness. He watched her introduce him to her father as a big merchant from Tanta who wanted to buy all their butter and ghee, all year long. He saw in her mother’s eyes slyness and greed and doubts about his story. He thought of turning her into a madwoman too. They prepared a room for him to sleep in, and he asked them to collect all the ghee, butter, and eggs from the village. He learned from the beautiful, rather buxom woman that she was a widow, whose husband had been run over by a car in Tanta. She came to his room every evening. He had no doubt that her parents knew. He realized what was being planned for him. But he was not made for marriage and family life. On the dawn of the seventh day he sneaked out. The whole village, with its black houses, was enveloped in fog. It was a sight he would not forget: black houses made gray by the white vapor that stretched to the edge of the universe. Could hell be any different from what he was seeing? The houses appeared to him like mythical beasts writhing in torment, in utter blindness. When his feet hit the railroad tracks, he headed for Tanta, not to his village. When he came to an underpass, he sat down to drink tea from a shack that served it. He wanted to wait until the fog lifted so he could see things more clearly.
When it did lift, he saw in front of him a group of border guards on camelback dragging a group of peasants bound with a long rope. He had no chance to escape. One of the guards got down from his camel, grabbed h
is arm, and calmly bound him with the others. He did not object, question, or scream. They marched him with the others to the governorate headquarters in Tanta and from there to the army camps in Cairo. The ‘Authority’ had kidnapped him to serve and fight, against his will, as corvée in the armies of England, which had declared Egypt a protectorate.
…feeling through the hot pavements the rhythms of
Alexandria transmitted upwards into bodies which could
only interpret them as famished kisses, or endearments
uttered in voices hoarse with wonder.
Lawrence Durrell
5
It seemed that everything was ready to accommodate Magd al-Din and Zahra. At night Bahi told them that the landlord, Khawaga Dimitri, was a good man who lived on the second floor in two rooms, next to which was a separate room that he could rent to them. They found out from him that a woman by the name of Lula lived with her husband in the room across the hall from his own. Bahi told them also that he would let them sleep in his room that night and that he would go out and sleep in the entryway of the house, where it was cooler and where he would be more likely to wake up early. Magd al-Din had to agree with him, even though he was surprised at his brother’s talk of getting up early. Then he told him to wake him up early too, so he could go out to look for work.
They spent most of the night talking about the neighborhood and its inhabitants. Nothing said that night stuck in Magd al-Din’s mind, for he knew it already. Zahra, though, was surprised to hear about the tensions between Christians and Muslims and how they had subsided now, and that the real tensions now were between northern and southern Egyptians. Bahi said that the northerners from Rosetta and Damietta and elsewhere were always peaceable, but that the southerners from the Jafar and Juhayna clans stopped them in the street and insulted them. There was always a conflict between the two southern clans, but they united in their opposition to the northerners. He said he was working for a day when he would lead the northerners to rout the southerners, and that day was going to be very soon.
Zahra found herself breaking in, “What do you do in Alexandria, Bahi?”
He looked at her for a moment and smiled. “Ask Sheikh Magd.” He left them, took a blanket and a pillow, and went out to sleep in the entryway. Zahra was amazed that she slept without a single dream. She placed her head on the pillow in Bahi’s bed and took her baby in her arms and slept. She did not even notice that Magd al-Din was stretched out on the floor next to the narrow bed. He had told her to sleep on the bed. As a peasant wife, she should have refused and let him take the bed, but she found herself, without thinking about it, getting into the bed and going to sleep, as if another woman was doing it. In the morning she sat, ashamed, in front of him and kept herself busy making tea for him and Bahi.
Magd al-Din went out without delay to look for work, and Bahi left after him, no one knew where. As he was having tea with Magd al-Din and Zahra, he told them, “Khawaga Dimitri passed by early, and I told him how you want to rent the room next to his apartment, and he agreed. He even went upstairs and told his wife to expect Zahra today. You can go up in an hour or so, Zahra.”
Around ten o’clock, Zahra found herself alone in Bahi’s room, so she decided to go upstairs. As she stepped out of the room, she saw before her a beautiful, blonde woman wearing a see-through nightgown with bare shoulders and arms. She was washing up at the tap in the hallway. She was startled, and Zahra said awkwardly, “Good morning.”
“Bahi’s sister?” asked the woman as she turned from the tap.
“Sister-in-law.”
The woman looked her up and down. “Where’s his brother?”
“He went out to look for work, and Bahi went out with him.”
Zahra gathered her courage and looked the woman up and down, then went upstairs.
Zahra sat in silence between Sitt Maryam and her two beautiful daughters, Camilla and Yvonne. Sitt Maryam was about forty years old. She had a white, round face and short chestnut-colored hair that she left untied and uncovered. Her daughters also wore their hair untied but long, hanging down their backs. The girls had their mother’s chestnut hair and amber eyes and round face, though a little narrower at the chin. Camilla had two attractive dimples in her cheeks that were quite pleasing to look at.
Zahra was wearing the same long black peasant dress that she had worn the day before, a dress with a wide square neck that made it easier for her to nurse her baby. On her head she had a black shawl that hung down both sides of her chest to cover whatever might be revealed by the loose-fitting bodice of her dress. Under the shawl was a tight head wrap that covered all her black hair. Camilla and Yvonne kept looking closely at Zahra, as though she were from a different planet. It was Zahra’s silence that surprised them, as well as her neatly trimmed eyebrows and her dark, almond-shaped eyes. Zahra was silently studying the icons hanging on the opposite wall. She knew them well. She had seen them many times in the home of Ata, the village grocer, whose wife, Firyal, was a seamstress. Zahra noticed that Sitt Maryam had a pedal-operated sewing machine in a corner of the room. Firyal’s sewing machine was small and hand-operated, and Firyal had it on a low table and worked on it all night long.
Sitt Maryam’s room was smaller than Firyal’s house, but it wasn’t made of mud. Besides, it was painted sky blue, so it seemed sunny, and the window opening onto the street bathed it in light, as did the door open to the hall. Zahra could see another door inside the room and figured that it led to another room for storage. Zahra sat on a sofa next to Sitt Maryam. Camilla and Yvonne sat on another sofa. The two sofas were covered with two clean kilims with geometric patterns of red, green, and blue circles and lines. On the floor was a kilim without any patterns. In the ceiling there was a small, idle fan next to which wires extended to a lamp below the fan. The fan most likely was never turned on, as it would have cut the lamp wire. The ceiling was made with wooden boards resting on strong beams and painted white. On the wall was an old photograph of Sitt Maryam at twenty, in a wedding gown, standing next to Dimitri. In the picture Dimitri looked slightly balding with black hair. She wondered what he looked like now. Zahra had not seen him yet. Under the photograph was a small wall clock, and under the clock was a glass china cabinet with closed drawers in its bottom half. On top of the cabinet was a wooden, broad-based semicircular Telefunken radio with two big buttons near the base. In the corner, next to the sewing machine, was a small, old table on top of which were several pieces of new fabric and unfinished new clothes.
The clothes and fabrics in Sitt Maryam’s house were more than she had seen in Firyal’s house in the village. People here like to dress up, she said to herself. This is the real Virgin Mary, and this is her son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, may peace be upon him. The face of the Virgin Mary is pleasant, snow-white, and full, and her chin is curved a little like Yvonne and Camilla’s faces. Jesus’ face is happy, but his face in the other icon, once he became a prophet, seems sad, in spite of the halo around his head. Did Bahi really have a halo of light? Yes, it went with him everywhere, but Bahi’s face is not like the face of the Messiah. Lord have mercy, it actually looks a little like him! I ask your forgiveness, Lord Almighty!
The day before, Bahi had told them that Bahiya was also in Alexandria. She had appeared a year earlier. He had noticed her come into the café, look at him, and then go out and stand on the opposite sidewalk to watch him. He did not realize it was Bahiya until she had left in the evening. He froze in place. She still came during the day to observe him from a distance, then disappeared at night.
He said that one night he was taking a walk along the bank of the Mahmudiya canal when he heard a voice calling his name. He thought it was the mythical seductress, the siren of the village, but he could never forget her voice. After he had overcome his surprise he moved closer to the bank and found her standing in front of a hut made of old tin cans, holding a small kerosene lamp that she sheltered from the wind with her other hand. She made way for him at the door, and he
entered the hut fearfully: a very harsh life. She slept on sackcloth and had a lot of bread, mostly spoiled, that people had given her. She had apples and bananas. She gave him an apple and sat watching him in silence. He took the apple home with him, debating whether to eat it or toss it away. He placed it near him in his bed and slept. It stayed on the bed until it became rotten, so he threw it out the window. He fell silent for a long time, then said to Magd al-Din “If I die, bury me in the village.”
“How old are you, Zahra?” Sitt Maryam asked.
“Twenty,” replied Zahra.
Camilla, Yvonne, and their mother all asked at once, “Is this the first time you’ve seen Alexandria?” “Yes.”
“And your husband, why didn’t he rest today after the trip?” was Sitt Maryam’s next question.
“He’s like that. He doesn’t like to be lazy.”
“God be with him. Nobody finds a job easily these days.”
“God will provide.”
Zahra paid 160 piasters, two months rent, for the room. She went in and found it to be a big room, but its window opened onto an air shaft rather than the street. “That’s fine,” she told herself. She felt close to this lady and her daughters. Sitt Maryam asked her if she had more money to furnish the room and she said yes. So Sitt Maryam asked her if she would like to do it that day. Zahra thought a little then said to herself, “Why not? It wouldn’t be bad if Magd al-Din came back and saw the new room with furniture.” She agreed, and Sitt Maryam got up and went into the inner room to put on her street clothes. Zahra, casting a quick glance at the inner room, saw a brass bed with high posts surrounded by a white mosquito net, exactly like her bed in the village, except that the posts of her bed had been discolored in spots. She would buy another one like it today.
Sitt Maryam closed the door quickly. The two girls were once again staring at Zahra. This time she felt embarrassed, so she lowered her head and stared down at the plain kilim on the floor, looking for lines and colors that she did not see. Camilla got up quickly and opened the little cabinet under the radio and took out a magazine, then sat next to Zahra and opened it to a particular page and asked Zahra, “Do you know Asmahan?”
No One Sleeps in Alexandria Page 4
