The Beginning and the End

by Naguib Mahfouz

  By the time he had found his way to the alley at last, his mood was one of painful pessimism. It was a narrow, zigzagging alley, with dilapidated houses on both sides, its polluted air permeated by the smell of fried fish, crowded with people and cluttering handcarts, and the echoes of hawkers advertising their wares was interspersed with abusive language, rattling coughs, and the sound of people gathering spittle in their throats and spewing it into the street. The ground, covered with dust, vegetable litter, and animal dung, was a gradual incline, so that the alley appeared to be constructed on top of a hill. Hussein went to number seventeen, an ancient two-story house. So strikingly narrow was it that it seemed more like a huge pillar than a dwelling. Not far from its entrance sat a woman selling pips, peanuts, and dome, the fruit of palm trees. Hesitantly he entered the house. As he climbed the spiral stairs, which had no banister, his nostrils were filled with a putrefying odor. When he reached the second floor, he knocked at the door. He was extremely afraid he might not find his brother at home, and his fear was intensified when nobody opened the door for him. Violently and desperately, he kept knocking until his hands ached. In his despondency he stood there, not knowing what to do. He was about to move away when he heard a rough voice inside, shouting angrily, “Who is this son of a bitch knocking at the door at such an early hour?”

  Hussein’s heart pounded with delight. Answering the voice, which he well recognized as that of his brother, he said, “Hassan! It’s me, Hussein.”

  “Hussein!” The voice sounded astonished. Then Hussein heard the rattle of the bolt being lifted. As the door was opened, he saw Hassan, his hair unruly and disorderly, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. Extending a hand to greet his brother, Hassan shouted in surprise, “Hussein! You’re welcome. Come in. I hope no calamity has brought you here. What’s the matter?”

  Rather confused, Hussein entered. Soon his nose was filled with the odor of incense, its sweet fragrance sharply contrasting with the horrible smell emerging from the staircase. He found himself in a darkened corridor with two rooms, one on the right of the entrance, the other facing it to the left. Smiling apologetically at his brother, Hussein said, “Have I come early? It’s eleven o’clock.”

  Hassan yawned. “I usually get up in the afternoon. Singers work by night and sleep by day,” he said, laughing. “But before anything else, tell me, how is our family?”

  “Thanks to God, they are well. How is everything?”

  Accompanying his brother to the room on the right, Hassan said, “Thanks to God, everything is all right.”

  They entered a small room, nearly partitioned into two halves, one containing a bed, the other a wardrobe, with a sofa between them next to the inside wall. Hanging above the sofa was a big photograph of Hassan with a very dark-skinned, fleshy woman leaning on his shoulder, her arms around his neck. As Hussein fixed his eyes on her, his astonishment caught his brother’s attention.

  “What are you thinking about?” Hassan asked, laughing.

  “Have you married, my brother?” Hussein asked naively.

  Asking Hussein to sit on the sofa, Hassan jumped on the bed and squatted there. “Almost,” he answered.

  “Are you engaged?”

  “Neither married nor engaged.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the third state!”

  Dumbfounded, the young man raised his astonished eyes to Hassan. He smiled mechanically in spite of himself. A feeling akin to shyness appeared on his face. Hassan laughed aloud.

  “Even without a marriage contract, she’s my wife in every possible sense,” he said lightly.

  “Aren’t you alone now?” Hussein asked fearfully.

  Nodding his head affirmatively, he yawned aloud like a braying donkey. “Of course, you won’t tell anybody about it,” he cautioned.

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t want to hurt the family’s feelings, that’s all. By the way, have you had any experience with the female sex?” Hassan asked with a laugh.

  Shyly, the young man shook his head no.

  “Nor Hassanein?” Hassan continued.

  Hussein’s heart pounded with fear and pain for no obvious reason. “Nor Hassanein,” he said.

  Hassan became thoughtful. “That’s better for you,” he remarked. “If one day you intend to marry,” he adding, laughing, “come to me and I’ll supply you with wonderful bits of advice.”

  “I’m not thinking of marriage, as you know,” Hussein said calmly.

  “Is it possible that Hassanein will get married before you?”

  His heart shook, but he said quietly, “This is certain, since he is bound by an old promise.”

  “Anyhow, when Hassanein finishes his studies, no obstacle will get in his way!” Hassan was moved. “Oh! By the way, what’s the latest news about the job you are searching for?”

  Hussein was delighted by the opportunity Hassan was affording him to bring up the subject.

  “I’ve come to tell you that I’ve been appointed a clerk at the secondary school in Tanta, and I’ll be starting my work on the first of October,” he said.

  “Will you travel to Tanta?” Hassan asked with astonishment. “What use, then, will it be to Mother if you live in Tanta?”

  “Little use. But what’s to be done?”

  “This is really bad luck. This is the result of school education!”

  To overcome his confusion, Hussein smiled. Summoning up his courage, he said, “I should be leaving by the end of September. As you know, government salaries are paid at the end of the month.”

  Hassan realized what his brother was driving at before Hussein finished speaking, and as he pondered it, he allowed no trace of his thoughts to appear on his face.

  “How much of a salary do you expect?” he asked.

  “Seven pounds.”

  “How foolish of Mother to have sent you to school! And, of course, you have not a millieme of the money needed to cover your travel and living expenses for the month of October?”

  Hussein smiled resignedly, wondering at the embarrassment and confusion the situation had caused him; it was as if he were asking a stranger for help. His mind active, Hassan silently continued to stare at him. Hussein comes to me at an inappropriate time. I’m expecting some money. But I’m not sure when it will come. Right now I’m empty-handed, entirely empty-handed. Damn him! I can’t tell him the truth. Let hell destroy us all before I ever do. He has a pressing need for the money and he must obtain it. The future of the family depends on these few pounds. In fact, he doesn’t need much, just the price of a few pounds of hashish. In one week’s time, a reckless young man would spend such a sum of money on the women of Darb Tiab. Sana’a herself is hard up. I don’t keep anything for her. I must help him. But how? Why did he wait until today to come see me? How long will my family remain a source of pain to me? Silently, he continued to gaze at his brother, until the latter’s heart was stricken with worry and fear. Suddenly Hassan moved away from the bed. Reaching the wardrobe, he opened a drawer. After fumbling in it for a few minutes, he returned to his place on the bed. Holding four gold bracelets in his hand, he stretched it out to his brother.

  “Take these bracelets and sell them at once, for whatever you can get for them,” he said hurriedly.

  Hussein’s hand failed to move as his eyes opened wide, disturbed and disapproving. “What’s this? Whose bracelets are these?” he shouted in spite of himself.

  Annoyed by his brother’s disquiet, Hassan said simply, “They are Sana’a my wife bracelets!”

  “By what right should I take them?”

  “Your brother is giving them to you. You’ve nothing to do with their owner.”

  Deeply disturbed, Hussein wondered what sort of life his brother lived. “I don’t feel comfortable about taking them. Isn’t there some other solution?”

  This show of dignity made Hassan angry. “If you’re this scrupulous, just leave them. I’ve nothing else to give you,” he said dryly.

&nbs
p; At first Hussein was skeptical. But after examining Hassan’s face and realizing the genuineness of his expression, he felt annoyed and degraded. A woman’s bracelets! And what a woman! he thought. This is both impossible and unbelievable. I wouldn’t have conceived of it, nor would I have believed this could happen to me even in a nightmare. How could I possibly respect myself afterward?! Should I refuse the bracelets? What’s to be done if I do? He doesn’t have any other money. I should believe him. I can’t lose the job either! What would I do if I lost it? I can’t refuse. Nor can I accept! I must refuse! But I cannot. He kept wavering back and forth, unable to decide. Only one thing deserves to be cursed, he thought. That’s life. Yes, life and luck, and the two parents that have brought me into this world. Not caring a damn, my father used to play on his lute strings! He started with alarm. May I be destroyed! How dare I think so! The image of his corpse is indelibly imprinted on my memory. May God’s mercy fall upon him. He was not the one to blame. We are all like chickens, scratching our food from the dirt. And Hassanein and Bahia meet in the chicken coop on the roof. How disgusting! Let me then refuse. But in order to survive we have to submit. Nobody would know anything about it. Still, I’ll remember it as long as I live, and my shame will last for the rest of my life! He is waiting for me to decide. Either I submit or perish! I’ll take them as a debt to be paid off when I have enough. No, I’m deceiving myself. No, I’m honest and I’ll pay off my debt. If I don’t refuse, I’ll never be able to claim that I’m an honest man. I’m hungry. Honest but hungry. And I’ll not refuse. Damn this life! Now I realize what drove my brother to live in this lair. Our family is lost and life is cruel. I must come to a decision before my head bursts. Like chickens…

  “What do you think?” came Hassan’s voice.

  Stunned, Hussein raised his eyes to him, his brother’s voice fearful in its effect. Hassan was still holding the bracelets in his hand. Lowering his eyes, Hussein shyly said, “Thank you for your generosity, which I accept willingly. I beg you to consider this a debt, which I’ll pay off when, by God’s will, I have enough.”

  “Accept it as a present, if you like. And tell Mother that I borrowed the money from Mr. Ali Sabri.”

  Hassan’s mention of his mother aroused his resentment and gave him acute pain. As he took the bracelets and put them in his pocket, his resentment doubled.

  “Sorry to have disturbed you. I think I should be leaving so that you can get back to your nap,” Hussein said.

  Stretching out his hand in farewell, Hassan smiled and pressed his brother’s hand. “May God give you safe conduct. My regards to everybody, and tell Mother that I’ll visit her shortly,” he said.

  Disapproving and resentful, Hussein left the house. Climbing cautiously down the stairs with no handrail, he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he paid no attention to the putrefying odor.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  The members of the family were gathering in the brothers’ room, which henceforth would become Hassanein’s alone. As she cast a glance at Hussein’s face, Nefisa’s heart was pierced with pain.

  “Oh, God! This will be the last night our family will be together!” she cried.

  On hearing these words, their mother felt stabbed in the heart, despite the great patience life had taught her. Nevertheless, she smiled, or rather she forced a smile on her dry lips.

  “Hussein is a mature man,” she said. “He can manage to live by himself with no trouble or confusion. I’m completely certain that he won’t forget us. He will always remember us as we shall always remember him. Don’t be silly, darling, this is life. Painful though it is, the members of every family are eventually bound to part happily from one another, for each has his or her own role to perform in life.”

  Hussein knew his mother so well that he realized that she was hiding her sorrow under a cloak of wisdom and firmness, as she often did. So he decided to grapple firmly with his own sense of desolation. Like a child, he had wept bitterly. But he was destermined not to weep again. Imitating his mother’s smile, he murmured, “We shall meet during holidays. Perhaps I’ll be transferred to Cairo one day.”

  “This is bound to happen one day,” Hassanein remarked thoughtfully.

  Hassanein felt melancholy and depressed. He had never been separated from his brother, not since he was born. He did not know how to face life without him. Hussein was a brother and friend to him. Though there were many occasions for dispute between them, and they sometimes even quarreled, they were indispensable to each other. Had Bahia been less stubborn, he would never have complained of loneliness. Yet he consoled himself in parting from his brother by the thought of writing letters to him every now and then. Perhaps during holidays he could travel to Tanta to see him. Could he hope to receive a monthly sum of money from Hussein, perhaps fifty or thirty piasters, especially since the fees he received from private lessons were discontinued at the end of the school year? How he wished he had enough nerve to confide his hopes to his brother. But he persuaded himself to be patient, postponing this matter until a more favorable occasion.

  Samira’s mind continued to churn. She was pleased that she had succeeded in maintaining an appearance of composure. However, this evening the agony in her heart reached its peak. She experienced a mysterious sense of remorse for the favoritism she had showed Hassanein and the sacrifice of the best part of herself for his sake. But what had things come to?! Hussein, her meek son, had accepted the sacrifice of his career and the suffering of loneliness for the sake of his family, and for Hassanein in particular. Her pain was intensified by the feeling that it was her duty to speak to Hussein, with detachment and no evidence of emotion, about a sore subject; she must disguise her actual purpose, the defense of family interests, by giving the impression that her real motive was love. Tenderly and compassionately, she looked at Hussein as she arranged his clothes in his father’s suitcase.

  “You’re wise, and that gives me reassurance. Above all, I hope you will continue your gentlemanly conduct in your new surroundings and avoid evil company,” she said.

  “Mother, rest entirely assured about this,” Hussein answered with a smile.

  However, the reference to “evil company” evoked in his mind the image of Gandab alley, the stair without banisters, and the gold bracelets. Dispirited, his face lost its glowing smile. He bent over the suitcase to hide his sadness.

  “Don’t forget your family,” his mother continued. “I know there is no need to remind you of this, but I must tell you that we shall need your help until Hassanein gets a job and Nefisa gets married.”

  “This was my only reason for accepting the job.”

  Horror-stricken, Nefisa shuddered. The word “marry” pierced her soul, and she imagined it disclosed her secret. Did her mother still have such hopes? Didn’t she know that her daughter would rather die than marry? She cast a curious glance at Hussein’s face. He was in the dark about what had happened. None of them could have possibly imagined it. Impossible! As the room swam before her eyes, she saw them gazing at her in demented fury, their fiery, bulging eyes flaming with anger and preying like monsters on her flesh. She shook her head to banish these horrible fantasies. Eventually she managed to recognize her surroundings for what they really were. But in spite of herself, she soon remembered the hours of her weakness when she had been seduced, overcome by the sexual urge brought about by her despair and poverty. In these hours of weakness, forgetting everything but her thirsty, unsatiated desire, she felt like mutilating herself. Now, struck dumb in the presence of her family, she remembered those awful hours; she was overwhelmed with painful shame and soundless fear. She kept looking curiously from her mother to her brothers. Though, of course, it was too late to repair the damage, she still saw a chance to retreat. But…Oh, God! She did not know what to say. What use was it now? What hope did life hold out for her? She was doomed to self-destruction.

  “Keep the money you need to meet your living expenses, and send us the rest of your salary,” Samira went on. “
You must do so, Hussein. We’ve nothing more in the house that is worth selling.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Since their mother had asked for the rest of Hussein’s salary, Hassanein almost lost hope of receiving an allowance from his brother. While Hussein’s appointment might afford his family some relief, Hassanein would remain badly in need of money, especially during the long summer holidays. He wondered, once he had a job, whether his mother would have similar claims upon him! Impossible! By the time he finished his studies, his mother would be relieved of her most burdensome family duties. So it would be possible for him to marry and look after himself. Nefisa and Hussein being the victims of these difficult times, they had to face the storm at its most violent. He felt pity and sympathy for them, but he rejoiced that his prospects were more cheerful than theirs.

  Without revealing all her thoughts, Samira wished to put Hussein on his guard against the snares of marriage. She was well aware that many parents easily laid traps for bachelors, away from their homes, to marry their daughters. But she was at a loss as to how to raise this point with Hussein, seeing that Hassanein, his younger brother, still a youngster in school, was already engaged and preparing to marry. Reluctantly she relinquished the idea of broaching this subject. However, she had confidence in Hussein’s prudence and wise judgment.

  The family conversation rambled on for a long time about various matters, and Farid Effendi and his family came to say goodbye to Hussein. They were, as usual, warmly welcomed. Their affection, generosity, and neighborliness were held in high esteem. Perhaps, since Hassanein’s unofficial engagement to Bahia, a change of mood had come over some members of his family. Samira, for example, believed that they had used stratagems to capture her green young son and take from her the most dazzling of her family’s hopes. Moreover, it was impossible for Nefisa to love anyone who aimed at possessing Hassanein. But these unspoken sentiments failed to weaken the ties of affection and brotherliness binding the two families. Samira could not possibly forget Farid Effendi’s helpfulness and kindness, and Hussein was delighted by this farewell visit. He felt deeply grateful to this dear family, the Effendi, his wife, the girl Bahia, and his former pupil Salem. Gently and sincerely, they conversed about past memories and present hopes.