The shaykh of the district replied, “Glory to the one who never changes”. He shook hands with the proprietor and then left the store shouting, “God is most great. Allahu akbar. Victory to the Muslims.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad stood at the door of the shop, looking up and down the street with a heart that had recaptured the delight and innocence of childhood. The effect of the news about Sa'd was evident everywhere. The entries of the shops were jammed with their owners and customers, who were congratulating each other. The windows of the houses were crowded with children, and ululating trills of joy could be heard from the women at the peepholes of the window grilles. Impromptu demonstrations took place between al-Nahhasin, the Goldsmiths Bazaar, and Bayt al-Qadi, with people yelling their hearts out for Sa'd, Sa'd, Sa'd, and then Sa'd. The muezzins went up to the balconies of their minarets to give thanks, pray, and shout. There were tens of donkey carts with hundreds of women, fully covered in wraps, dancing and singing patriotic songs. All he could see were people, or, more precisely, people shouting. The earth had disappeared and the walls were concealed by them. Shouts for Sa'd were heard everywhere. The air seemed to have turned into a tremendous phonograph record, spinning incessantly on a turntable, repeating his name. News bounced along the mass of heads that the English were striking their camps, which had been set up at the street corners, in preparation for redeployment of the soldiers to al-Abbasiya. The enthusiasm increased and delirium reached a fever pitch. Al-Sayyid Ahmad had never seen such a sight before. He looked every which way with sparkling eyes and a bounding heart. Under his breath, he sang along with the women dancers, “O Husayn … a burden has been lifted.”
Then Jamil al-Hamzawi put hishead close to the proprietor's ear to say, “The shops are distributing cold drinks and putting up flags.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad told him enthusiastically, “Do what the others are doing and more. Put your whole heart into it”. Then with a trembling voice he added, “Hang Sa'd's picture under the calligraphy of'In the Name of God.'”
Jamil al-Hamzawi looked reluctant and cautioned him, “In that place it can be seen from outside. Wouldn't it be better for us to bide our time until things return to normal?”
The proprietor replied scornfully, “The era of fear and bloodshed has passed, never to return. Don't you see that demonstrations are going on under the eyes of the English, who aren't making any attempt to interfere with them? Hang up the picture and trust in God.”
“The days of fear and bloodshed have vanished. Isn't that so? Sa'd is free and at liberty. He's probably on his way now to Europe. Only a step or a word stands between us and independence. These are demonstrations with trills of joy, not bullets. Those of us who are still alive are happy people, having passed safely through the fires. God's mercy on the martyrs…. Fahmy? He's escaped from a much greater danger than he ever imagined. He's escaped, praise and thanks to God. Yes, Fahmy has escaped. What are you waiting for? Pray to God your Lord.”
When the family gathered that evening, their hoarse voices revealed that they had spent the day shouting. It was a happy evening. Joy was evident in their eyes, lips, gestures, and words. Even Amina'sheart imbibed some of the overflowing happiness. She realized that Sa'd's release brought good news of a return to peace and joy.
“From the balcony I saw something no one has ever seen before,” she commented. “Has Judgment Day come with the scales to weigh our sins? Were those women crazy? The echo of their sinang still rings in my ears: Husayn… a burden has been lifted.'”
Laughingly messing up Kamal's hair, Yasin said, “It was a word of farewell to speed the departing English on their way, just as you see off an unwelcome guest by breaking a jug after him.”
Kamal looked at his brother without saying anything. Then Amma bad another question: “Is God finally pleased with us?”
Yasin replied, “No doubt about it”. Then he asked Fahmy, “What co you think?”
Fahmy, who seemed as happy as a child, said, “The English wouldn't have freed Sa'd if they weren't agreeing to our demands. He'll travel to Europe and then return with independence. This is what everyone says. No matter what else happens, April 7, 1919, will remain the date marking the success of the revolution.”
Yasin exclaimed, “What a day! Government employees participated openly in the demonstrations. I didn't think I was capable of walking that distance or yelling for so long.”
Fahmy laughed. He said, “I wish I could have seen you shouting zealously. Yasin takes part in a demonstration. He gets excited and yells. What a rare spectacle!”
It truly was an amazing day. Yasin had been swept along by its swelling current and carried by its strong waves like a tiny, weightless leaf, fluttering everywhere. He could scarcely believe that he had been able to regain control of himself and had retreated to a quiet observation tower where, through its glass, he had calmly watched what was happening, without any emotional involvement. In the light of Fahmy's observation, he began to recall the state he had been in while he was in the demonstration. He remarked with astonishment, “A man forgets himself in the strangest way when he's with so many people. He almost seems to become a new person.”
Fahmy asked him with interest, “Did you really feel enthusiastic?”
“I shouted for Sa'd so much my throat became sore. I had tears in my eyes once or twice.”
“How did you get into the demonstration?”
“We heard the news that Sa'd had been released when we were at school. I was really ecstatic. Were you expecting that? Then the teachers suggested joining the large demonstration outside. I didn't feel like it and thought I'd slip off home but was forced to walk with them until I could get an opportunity to escape. Then I found myself in a swirling sea of people. There was an electric atmosphere of enthusiasm. Before I knew it, I forgot myself and merged with the stream. I was as zealous and optimistic as a person can be. Please believe me.”
Fahmy shook hishead and murmured, “Amazing….”
Yasin laughed out loud and asked, “Did you think I had lost my sense of patriotism? The thing is, I don't like noise and violence. I don't have any problem reconciling love of country and love of peace.”
“What if that reconciliation is shattered?”
Yasin smiled and answered without any hesitation, “I put love of peace first. I come first…. Is it impossible for my country to be happy unless it consumes my life? God's deliverance! I'm not taking any chances with my life, but I'll love my country so long as I'm alive.”
“That's very wise,” Amina commented. Then, looking at Fahmy, stie asked, “Does my master think otherwise?”
Fahnr) replied calmly, “Of course not. It's very wise, as you said…”
Kamal was not happy to be left out of the conversation, especially since he was convinced that he had played a vital role that day. He volunteered, “We went on strike too, but the headmaster told us we were still children and would be trampled underfoot if we left school. Fie gave us permission to demonstrate in the school courtyard. So we assembled there and chanted for a long time, 'Long live Sa'd.'” He repeated the chant in a loud voice. “After that we didn't go back to the classes, because the teachers had left the school to join the demonstrators outside.”
Yasin threw the boy a sarcastic look and remarked, “But your friends have gone….”
“To hell,” Kamal said, in spite of himself. The comment did not express his true feelings at all, but he felt that circumstances required it and, faced with Yasin's sarcasm, he wished to mask his defeat. In hisheart he felt bewildered and slandered. He could not forget how, on his return from school, he had stood in the deserted campsite, casting his eyes in every direction in painful silence as tears welled up in his eyes. It would be a long time before he forgot tea on the sidewalk by the cistern, the admiration his singing had garnered, his affectionate treatment by the soldiers and especially by Julian, and the friendship that linked him to those outstanding gentlemen whom he believed to be superior to the rest of mankind.
Arnim said, “Sa'd Pasha's a lucky man. The whole world is chanting his name. Not even ‘Our Effendi’ Abbas II was treated like that. Sa'd's no doubt a Believer, because God grants real victories only to Believers. Sa'd's been victorious over the English, who even defeated the zeppelin. What greater victory can you ask for? The man was born auspiciously on the Night of Destiny in Ramadan, which commemorates the Qur'an's descent.”
“Do you love him?” Fahmy asked with a smile.
“I love him, since you do.”
Fahmy spread his hands out and raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “That doesn't mean anything,” he said.
She sighed somewhat uneasily and explained, “Whenever I got some sad news, tearing my heart to pieces with sorrow, I would ask myself, ‘Do you suppose this would have happened if Sa'd had not started his rebellion?’ But a man loved by everyone must also be loved by God”. Sighing audibly, she continued: “I grieve for those who have perished. How many mothers are weeping sorely now? How many a mother finds that today's joy only adds another sorrow to her regrets?”
Fahmy winked at Yasin and told her, “A really patriotic mother would trill with joy at her son's martyrdom.”
She put her fingers in her ears and shouted, “May God be my witness to what the young master has said…. A mother trills with joy when her son is martyred? Where? On this earth? Not here or even underground where the devils reside.”
Fahmy laughed loudly. He thought for a while. Then with twinkling eyeshe said, “Mama… I'm going to tell you a terrible secret that can be revealed now. I participated in the demonstrations and met death face to face.”
She looked at him gravely and incredulously. With a bewildered smile she said, “You? … Impossible. You're part of my flesh and blood. Your heart comes from mine. You're not like the others….”
Smiling at her, he declared, “I swear to you by God Almighty that it's true.”
Her smile disappeared and her eyes grew wide with consternation. She looked back and forth between him and Yasin, who was also staring inquisitively at Fahmy. After swallowing, she mumbled, “O Lord!… How can I believe my ears?” Shaking her head in helpless agony, she exclaimed, “You!”
He had expected her to be upset, but not to the extent that she clearly was. After all, his confession came after the danger had passed. Before she could say anything more, he told her, “That's ancient history. It's over and done with. There's no reason to be alarmed now.”
She responded with nervous insistence, “Hush! You don't love your mother. May God forgive you.”
Fahmy laughed disconcertedly. With a mischievous smile, Kamal told his mother, “Do you remember the day I was fired on in the pastry shop? I saw him in the deserted street on my way home. He warned me not to tell anyone I had seen him”. Then he turned to Fahmy and asked with avid interest, “Tell us, Mr. Fahmy, what you experienced in the demonstrations. How did the battles start? What happened when people fell dead? Were you armed?”
Yasin interrupted the conversation to tell the mother, “It's ancient history, dead and buried. It would be better to thank God he's safe than get alarmed.”
She asked him harshly, “Did you know about it?”
He quickly replied, “No, by my mother's grave”. For fear that might not be adequate, he added, “And by my religion, faith, and Lord.”
He rose to go to her. He put a hand on her shoulder and told her tenderly, “Did you relax when you should have been alarmed only to be alarmed now that you can relax? Declare that God is one. The danger has passed and peace has returned. Here's Fahmy in front of you…”. He laughed. “By tomorrow we'll be able to walk the length and breadth of Cairo by day or night without fear or anxiety.”
Fahmy said earnestly, “Mama, please don't spoil our good spirits with pointless sorrow.”
She sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, even though her lips moved. She smiled wanly to announce her compliance with his request. Then she bowed her head to hide her eyes filled with tears.
70
BY THE time Fahmy fell asleep that night he had made up his mind to get back into his father's good graces no matter what it cost him. The next morning he decided to act on his resolve without delay. Although he had never harbored any angry or defiant feelings toward his father during his rebellion, a guilty conscience was a heavy burden for his sensitive heart, which was imbued with dutiful obedience. He had not defied his father verbally but had acted against his will and had done so repeatedly. Moreover, he had refused to swear an oath the day his father had asked him to, announcing with his tears that he would stick to his principles despite his father's wishes. To his unbearable regret, all these acts had put him in the position, regardless of his good intentions, of being wickedly disobedient. He had not attempted to make peace with his father earlier from fear of scraping the scab off the wound without being able to bandage it. He had assumed his father would ask him to take the oath again as penance for what he had done and that he would be forced once more to refuse, thus reviving his rebellion when he wanted to apologize for it.
The situation today was different. Hisheart was intoxicated with joy and victory, and the whole nation was drunk on the wine of delight and triumph. He could not stand for a barrier of suspicion to separate him from his father a moment longer. They would be reconciled and he would receive the pardon he craved. Then there would be true happiness, unblemished by any defect.
He entered his father's room a quarter of an hour before breakfast and found his father folding up the prayer rug as he mumbled a prayerful entreaty. The man no doubt noticed him but pretended not to and went to sit on the sofa without turning toward his son. He sat facing Fahmy, who stood at the door, looking ashamed and confounded. Al-Sayyid Ahmad stared at him impassively and disapprovingly as though to ask, “Who is this person standing there and why hashe come?”
Fahmy got the better of his consternation and quietly walked toward his father. He leaned over his hand, which he took and kissed with the utmost respect. He was silent for some time. Then in a scarcely audible voice he said, “Good morning, Papa.”
His fa:her continued to gaze at him silently, as though he had not heard the greeting, until the boy lowered his eyes in confusion and stammered in a despairing voice, “I'm sorry…”. Al-Sayyid Ahmad persisted in his silence.
“I'm really sorry. I haven't had a moment's peace of mind since …” He found his words were leading him up to a reference to something he wanted with all hisheart to skip over. So he stopped.
Before he knew what was happening, his father asked him harshly and impatiently, “What do you want?”
Fahmy was overjoyed that the man had abandoned his silence and sighed with relief as though he had not noticed the harsh tone. He entreated his father, “I want your approval.”
“Get out of my sight.”
Feeling the grip of despair loosening a little around his neck, Fahmy said, “When I have your approval.”
Becoming sarcastic suddenly, al-Sayyid Ahmad asked, “My approval!… Why not? … Have you, God forbid, done anything to make me angry?”
Fahmy' welcomed his father's sarcasm twice as much as his renunciation of silence. Sarcasm with his father was the first step toward forgiveness. When he was really angry, he would slap, punch, kick, curse, or do all at once. Sarcasm was the first sign of a change of heart.
“Seize the opportunity,” Fahmy told himself. “Speak. Speak the way a man preparing to be a lawyer should speak. This is your opportunity. Say, 'Answering the call of the nation should not be considered rebellion against your will, sir. I really didn't do much by way of patriotic deeds … distributing handbills to friends…. What did that amount to? What am I compared with those who willingly gave their lives? I understood from your words, sir, that you were afraid for my life, not that you really rejected the idea of patriotic duties. I simply did a little of my duty. I'm confident that I actually did not disobey your wishes.'… And so forth and so on.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad responded sharply, “Empty words. You pretend to be obedient now that there's no reason to rebel. Why haven't you asked for my approval before today?”
Fahmy said sadly, “The world was full of blood and grief. I was preoccupied by sorrow.”
“Too preoccupied to ask for my approval?”
Fahmy replied ardently, “I was too preoccupied to think about myself”. In a low voice he added, “I can't live without your approval.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad frowned, not from anger as he made it appear, but to hide the good impression his son's words had made on him. “This is the way a person should speak,” he reflected. “Otherwise, forget it. He's really good at using words. This is eloquence, isn't it? I'll repeat what he said to my friends tonight to see what impact it makes on them. What do you suppose they'll say? The boy takes after his father…. That's what they ought to say. People used to tell me that if I had completed my education I would have been one of the most eloquent attorneys. I'm quite an eloquent person even without a higher education and a law practice. Our daily conversation is exactly like the law in revealing one's gift for eloquence. How many attorneys and important civil servants have cowered like sparrows before me at our parties. Not even Fahmy will be able to replace me one day. They'll laugh and say the boy's really a chip off the old block. His refusal to swear that oath still troubles me, but don't I have a right to be proud that he participated in the revolution, even if only remotely? Since God has allowed him to live to see this day, I wish he had done something important in it. From now on, I'll say he waded into the midst of the revolution. Do you think he was content just to distribute handbills as he claimed? The son of a bitch threw himself into the bloody stream of events. ‘Al-Sayyid Ahmad, we must acknowledge your son's patriotism and courage. We did not wish to tell you this during the danger, but now that peace has come, there's no harm saying it.’ Do you disown your patriotic feelings? Didn't the people collecting donations for the nationalist Wafd Party commend you? By God, if you were young, you would have done much more than your son has. But he defied me! He defied your tongue and obeyed your heart. What can I do now? My heart wishes to forgive him, but I'm afraid he'll think then it's okay to disobey me.”
The Cairo Trilogy Page 60
