“Do you give up?” he asked himself. “Certainly not. Just look at those eyes. They reflect a spirit that's fading, no matter how they sparkle and flash. Fatigue disappears from sight momentarily behind a smile or a jest, but then its full truth is apparent. You can read in that look the obituary for their youth, a silent elegy. Isn't Zubayda in her fifties? And Jalila's several years older. She violently disputes that fact but will never be able to disprove it no matter how often she denies it.”
There was a change in hisheart too. He felt aversion and repulsion. It had not been that way when he arrived, for he had come in breathless pursuit of a phantom, which no longer existed. So be it. God forbid that he should willingly submit to defeat…. “Drink, let yourself be transported by the music, and laugh. No one will ever force you to do something you don't want.”
Jalila said, “I didn't believe my eyes would ever see you again in this world.”
He yielded to an overwhelming temptation to ask: “How do you find me?”
Zubayda intervened: “The same as ever. As big and strong as a camel. One white hair shows under your fez. Nothing more than that.”
Jalila protested, “Let me answer, because he asked me”. Then she told al-Sayyid Ahmad, “You look the way you always did.
But there's nothing strange about that. We're all still youngsters.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad discerned her goal. Trying to seem serious and sincere, he replied, “You two have only increased in beauty and good looks. I wasn't expecting this much.”
Examining him with interest, Zubayda inquired, “What has kept you away from us all this time?” She laughingly advised him, “If your intentions were at all good, you could have had an innocent rendezvous with us. Can't we ever meet unless there's a bed beneath us?”
Waving his arm in the air to toss back the sleeve of his caftan, Mr. Ibrahim al-Far retorted, “Neither he nor we know how to have an innocent rendezvous with you.”
Zubayda grumbled, “I seek refuge with God from you men. All you want a woman for is sex.”
Jalila laughed out loud and commented, “Mother's pet, you should thank your Lord for that. Could you have grown so splendidly fat if you had not been content to profit from sex?”
Zubayda told her critically, “Don't interfere with my interrogation of the accused.”
With a smile al-Sayyid Ahmad said, “I was sentenced to five years of innocence without labor.”
Zubayda pounced on him again and said mockingly, “Alas, poor boy! You deprived yourself of every pleasure, all of them, poor baby, so that the only ones to enjoy were food, drink, music, humor, and staying out till daybreak, night after night.”
He answered apologetically, “These things are necessary for a grieving heart, but the other ones …”
Zubayda gestured toward him as though to say, “You're hopeless!” Then she remarked, “So, I've learned now that you consider us worse than all the other sins and transgressions put together….”
As though remembering an important matter he had almost forgotten, Muhammad Iffat interrupted her by crying out, “Have we assembled from the ends of the earth just to talk? The glasses are staring down at us, but no one's paying any attention to them. Fill the glasses, Ali. Tune your instrument, Zanuba. And you, the accused gentleman, make yourself more comfortable. Do you think you're at school and can't remove any clothing? Take off your fez and cloak. Don't assume that your interrogation is over,but first all the court officials must get drunk. Then we can resume the interrogation. Jalila insisted that we shouldn't get intoxicated until ‘the sultan of good times’ arrived. At least that's what she said. This woman esteems you as highly as Satan does a chronic sinner. God's blessing on your relationship with her and hers with you.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad rose to slip out of his cloak, and Ali Abd al-Rahim went to serve as bartender, as usual. A few discordant whispers were emitted by the lute strings as they were being tested. Zubayda crooned gently. With her fingertips Jalila smoothed the strands of her hair and the neck of her dress where it fell between her breasts. Eyes watched Ali Abd al-Rahim's hands with longing as he filled the glasses. Al-Sayyid Ahmad sat down again with his legs tucked beneath him. His eyes wandered over the room and the people in it until they chanced to meet Zanuba's. A smiling look of recognition lit up their eyes. Ali Abd al-Rahim presented the first round of drinks. Then Muhammad Iffat said, “To good health and good love.”
Jalila said, “To your return, Mr. Ahmad.”
Zubayda said, “To right guidance when it follows error.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad said, “To those I love from whom I've been separated by grief.”
They all drank. Al-Sayyid Ahmad raised his drink to his lips. Over the base of the glasshe could see Zanuba's face. He was touched by its freshness.
Muhammad Iffat told Ali Abd al-Rahim, “Time for the second round.”
Ibrahim al-Far added, “And the third should follow immediately so we can lay the groundwork properly.”
Ashe set to work Ali Abd al-Rahim observed, “A group's servant is their master.”
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad found himself watching Zanuba's fingers as she tuned the lute strings. He wondered how old she was, estimating that she was between twenty-five and thirty. He also asked himself why she was present. Had she only come to play the lute or was her Aunt Zubayda preparing to launch her in this profitable career?
Mr. Ibrahim al-Far said that just looking at the water of the Nile made him seasick, and Jalila shouted at him that he had made his mother sick in his day.
Ali Abd al-Rahim asked, “If a woman as big as Jalila or Zubayda were thrown into the water, would she sink or float?”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad answered that she would float, unless there was a hole in her. He wondered what would happen if he felt tempted by Zanuba and told himself that at present it would be a scandal, after five glasses it would be awkward, but after a whole bottle it would become a duty.
Muhammad Iffat proposed they drink to the health of the nationalist leaders Sa'd Zaghlul and Mustafa al-Nahhas, who would be traveling at the end of the month from Paris to London for negotiations. Ibrahim al-Far suggested that they drink a toast to the Labour Party leader Ramsay MacDonald, a friend of the Egyptians.
Ali Abd al-Rahim asked what MacDonald had meant by saying he could solve the Egyptian problem before he finished drinking the cup of coffee he had in front of him.
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad answered that he meant it took an Englishman, on average, half a century to drink a cup of coffee.
Al-Sayyid Ahmad remembered how alienated he had felt by the revolution after Fahmy had been slain and how he had gradually returned to his original pro-nationalist feelings because of the respect and esteem people showered on him as the father of a martyr. In time, he had found that Fahmy's tragedy had even become a source of pride.
Jalila raised her glass in the direction of al-Sayyid Ahmad as she said, “To your health, my camel. I've often asked myself whether you had really forgotten us. But God knows I understood and prayed God would grant you endurance and consolation. Don't be surprised, for I'm your sister and you've been a brother to me.”
Muhammad Iffat asked mischievously, “If you're his sister and he's your brother, as you claim, then should you two have done what you used to?”
She emitted a laugh that reminded them of the old days, 1918 or before. She retorted, “Ask your maternal uncles about that, love child.”
Glancing at Ahmad Abd al-Jawad slyly, Zubayda said, “I've thought of another reason for his long absence….”
More than one person inquired what it was, while al-Sayyid Ahmad murmured pleadingly, “O God who veils our shortcomings, protect me.”
“I suspect he's impotent like other men his age and has used his grief as a convenient excuse.”
Shaking her head with all the affectation of a performer, Jalila protested, “He'll be the last to grow old.”
Mr. Muhammad Iffat asked al-Sayyid Ahmad, “Which of these two opinions is right?”
<
br /> Al-Sayyid Ahmad replied suggestively, “The first expresses fear and the second hope.”
Jalila said with victorious relief, “You're not a man who disappoints a lady's hopes.”
He thought about saying, “It's only when he's tested that a man is honored or despised,” but was afraid he would be put to the test or that his statement would be understood as an invitation. Yet whenever he looked closely at them, he was overcome by a wish to hold back and to skip this opportunity. Before coming he would never have thought it possible. Yes, it was undeniable that a change had taken place. Yesterday was gone. Today was different. Zubayda was no longer the same, nor Jalila. There was nothing to justify the risk. He would be satisfied with the brotherly relationship Jalila had acclaimed and expand it to include Zubayda too. He said delicately, “How could a man grow senile when surrounded by such beautiful women?”
Looking at each of the men in succession, Zubayda asked, “Which of you is the oldest?”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad answered inaccurately but with apparent innocence, “I am. I was born just after Urabi's rebellion of 1882.”
Muhammad Iffat protested, “Say anything but this. I've heard you were one of Urabi's soldiers.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad replied, “I was a soldier in their bellies, so to speak just as people now call a child at home a pupil, even before he's started school.”
Ali Abd al-Rahim pretended to be astonished and asked, “What was your late mother doing while you were inside a soldier going off to battle?”
After emptying her glass, Zubayda shouted, “Don't evade the question with your jokes. I'm asking you how old you are.”
Ibrahim al-Far said challengingly, “Three of us are between fifty and fifty-five. Will you disclose your ages to us?”
Zubayda shrugged her shoulders scornfully and said, “I was born…”
She narrowed her kohl-enhanced eyes and looked up at the lamp as though trying to remember, but al-Sayyid Ahmad completed her statement before she could: “After the revolution of Sa'd Zaghlul Pasha in 1919.”
They laughed for a long time until finally she waggled her middle ringer at them. But it appeared that Jalila did not like the topic of conversation. She yelled, “Let's abandon this smear campaign. What difference does it make how old we are? Let the One who's in charge of the matter worry about it in Hisheavens. For us, a woman is young so long as she finds a man who desires her and one of you men is a boy so long as he can find a woman who wants him.”
Suddenly Ali Abd al-Rahim shouted, “Congratulate me!”
When asked why, he shouted, “Because I'm drunk.”
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad said that they ought to catch up before their friend was lost in the land of inebriation, whereas Jalila urged them to let him go on alone as punishment for his haste. Ali Abd al-Rahim retreated to a corner with a full glass in his hand, telling them, “Find another bartender.”
Zubayda stood up to look for her wraps and check her handbag to make sure that her container of cocaine was still where she had left it. Ibrahim al-Far seized the opportunity provided by her absence to take the seat beside Jalila. He leaned hishead on her shoulder, sighing audibly. Muhammad Iffat went to the windows overlooking the Nile channel and thrust the shutters aside. The surface of the water appeared to consist of a flowing pattern of darkness, except for still streaks of light traced on the undulating river by rays coming from the lamps of other boats where people were staying up late. Zanuba plucked the strings of her lute, and a rollicking tune sprang forth. Al-Sayyid Ahmad gazed in her direction for a long time. Then he rose to refill his glass. When Zubayda returned she sat down between Muhammad Iffat and Ahmad Abd al-Jawad, whose back she thumped.
Jalila's voice was raised in song: “One day you took a bite out of me___”
Now it was Ibrahim al-Far's turn to shout, “Congratulate me!”
Muhammad Iffat and Zubayda started singing along with Jalila once she reached the words: “They brought me an antidote”. When Zanuba joined the song, al-Sayyid Ahmad began looking at her again. Before he knew what was happening he was one of the singers too, and Ali Abd al-Rahim's voice lent its support from his corner.
Hishead still on Jalila's shoulder, Ibrahim al-Far called out, “Six performers and an audience of one: me.”
Without stopping his singing al-Sayyid Ahmad told himself, “In the end, she'll comply with my wishes most willingly”. Then he mused, “Is tonight to be a passing affair or the beginning of a lengthy relationship?”
Ibrahim al-Far rose unexpectedly and began dancing. The others all started to clap in unison. Then they sang together:
So take me in your pocket, Between your belt and sash.
Al-Sayyid Ahmad wondered whether Zubayda would allow the tryst to take place in her house. When the song and dance were concluded, they vied with each other in trading jests and insults in rapid succession. Ahmad Abd al-Jawad began observing Zanuba's face stealthily whenever he came out with a joke, to judge its impact on her. The merry turmoil intensified, and minutes flew by.
“It's time for me to go,” said Ali Abd al-Rahim as he rose to get the rest of his clothes.
Muhammad Iffat shouted at him angrily, “I told you to bring her with you, so the evening wouldn't be cut short.”
Raising her eyebrows, Zubayda asked, “Who is this woman you're guarding so carefully?”
Ibrahim al-Far said, “A new girlfriend. A whale of a woman. The madam of an establishment in the Wajh al-Birka entertainment district….”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad asked him with interest, “Who is she?”
Ali Abd al-Rahim answered laughingly as he drew his cloak tightly around him, “Your old friend Saniya al-Qulali.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad's blue eyes grew large and a dreamy look was visible in them. With a smile he said, “Remember me to her and convey my greetings to her.”
Ashe twisted his mustache and prepared to depart, Ali Abd al-Rahim answered, “She asked about you and suggested I invite you to spend an evening at her house, after the time set aside for assignations. I told her, 'His eldest son, may the Prophet's name protect him, has reached an age at which it's considered a duty in their family to frequent Wajh al-Birka and other centers of depravity. Thus if his father came here, he would be in danger of bumping into his son.'” He grinned from ear to ear, said goodbye, and exited to the vestibule.
Muhammad Iffat and Ahmad Abd al-Jawad followed to see him out. They kept on chatting and laughing together until Mr. Ali left the houseboat. Then Muhammad Iffat touched his friend's arm and asked, “Zubayda or Jalila?”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad answered simply, “Neither one.”
“Why? May God spare us evil.”
He replied as though convinced, “A step at a time. I'll be c ontent to pass the remainder of this evening in drinking and listening to the lute.”
Muhammad Iffat urged him to take another step but did not press him once al-Sayyid Ahmad excused himself. They returned to the disordered room and resumed their seats. Ibrahim al-Far became the bartender. Signs of intoxication were clearly apparent in their flaming eyes, flowing conversations, and animated gestures. Following Zubayda's lead, they sang together: “Why is the sea laughing?…”
It was remarked that Ahmad Abd al-Jawad's voice rose until it almost drowned out Zubayda's. Then Jalila narrated some snatches of her romantic adventures.
“Since my eyes fell on you,” al-Sayyid Ahmad reflected, “I've had the feeling that tonight will not pass without an adventure. How pretty the young girl is. Young? Yes, since she's a quarter century younger than you.”
Ibrahim al-Far lamented the passing of the copper trade's golden age, during the war. With a thick tongue he told them, 'Back then you would kiss my hand to get a pound of copper.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad commented, “When you need something from a dog, call him 'mister.'”
Zubayda complained about how drunk she was and rose to try to walk it off, going back and forth. They began to clap to keep time with her staggering steps. They called ou
t in unison the words used to encourage children to walk: “A step at a time. Cross over the doorstep…. A step at a time. Cross over the doorstep”. Wine paralyzes the organ that registers sorrow.
Jalila murmured, “That's enough for now”. She rose and left the room. She went down the hall to the two cabins, which were opposite each other. She made for the cabin on the Nile side and entered it. Soon they could hear the creaking of her bed as it received her enormous body. What Jalila had done appealed to Zubayda. She followed her lead and headed for the other cabin. The creaking that her bed emitted was even louder.
Ibrahim al-Far said, “The bed has spoken.”
From the first cabin a voice made its way to them, singing in imitation of the husky quality of the renowned singer Munira al-Mahdiya: “Darling, come.”
Muhammad Iffat got up and answered in song as well: “I'm coming.”
Ibrahim al-Far looked questioningly at Ahmad Abd al-Jawad. Quoting a saying of the Prophet, al-Sayyid Ahmad told him, “Unless you're embarrassed, do whatever you want.”
The man rose and replied, “There's no need for bashfulness on a houseboat.”
The coast was clear. This was the moment for which he had been waiting so long. The young girl put the lute aside. She sat cross-legged with the end of her dress draped over her legs. They silently exchanged a glance. Then she stared off into space. The silence was so charged with electricity that it was unbearable. When she stood up suddenly, he asked, “Where are you going?”
The Cairo Trilogy Page 72
