Return of the Spirit

by Tawfiq al-Hakim

  Saniya persisted. “Suppose he had gone after he married you. Would you have accompanied him to the Sudan?”

  The mother answered her immediately, “What an awful idea! What woman wouldn’t follow her husband? Where he goes, she goes.”

  Saniya asked mischievously, “Would your mother have allowed you to go?”

  Her mother answered, “My mother? My mother died when I was young.”

  “Suppose she had been living.”

  The mother replied, “God rest her soul. She was a dignified and intelligent woman.”

  “Just like you. . . . Isn’t that so?”

  The girl was silent for a moment. Then she gracefully picked up the discussion. She proceeded with it from stage to stage until she was able to show her mother, indirectly, that she would be wrong to retain the condition for marriage that her daughter should remain in Cairo near her. She was only stipulating that because she wanted to hold on to her daughter, not for any sound reason. A mother shouldn’t be selfish or egotistical when it was a question of her daughter’s future and happiness. It was necessary for a woman to follow her husband wherever he settled—just as her mother herself had said a moment before—and to accompany him to the community where his interests and projects called him.

  Saniya wasn’t an old-fashioned girl. She wanted to take an interest in her husband’s work and to encourage him in it. She had gotten a pretty good idea that a man like Mustafa had interests and projects in the countryside, if nothing else the fields and estates he had inherited from his father. For that reason, she didn’t hesitate to think about going with him and living with him in the country, if need be.

  Saniya opened her window the morning of the following day to find herself faced with a strange and comic sight on Mustafa’s balcony—the sight of a man wrapped up like a cabbage in a large overcoat with a thick quilt draped over that. He had put behind his head, which was covered by a scarf, a small pillow propped against the wall. On top of all that was an open umbrella, which came down over his head and hid part of his face. He was asleep and snoring.

  Saniya knew exactly who it was and laughed wholeheartedly. It was Mustafa, and all signs pointed to his having spent the night on the balcony in this fashion. Poor dear! He had no doubt stayed up all night waiting for her, but given the early morning hour and the dawn breezes to brush his eyelids, he had gone to sleep and started snoring, in spite of himself.

  Saniya hesitated a little. Should she wake him or leave him? Her love of sport won out in her. She left the window open and hid behind the curtains to see how he would react. Day broke and the sun caught Mustafa’s face. He opened his eyes. At once he remembered he had come to await the opening of the window. He turned toward it with the speed of lightning. There it was, open, with no one at it. He struck his head with his hand in despair and tugged at his hair in anger. He was saying, “She came, she opened, and she left—while I slept like an ass.”

  Saniya heard this from her hiding place and laughed merrily to herself. She considered showing herself to him but saw him collect all his effects, his clothes and umbrella, and leave the balcony in despair. She decided to keep still and see what he would do after that. She would observe him from a short distance while staying hidden.

  Mustafa realized that accursed sleep must surely overcome him if he tried to stay up all night. Sleep’s onslaught would be most intense at dawn. So what should he do about it? He thought a little and finally devised a plan.

  The next evening, Mustafa went out to the balcony with his customary props—his clothes, pillows, and umbrella—like the previous night, when he had fallen asleep, but also brought an alarm clock, which he set for the hour he wanted to awaken, should sleep overcome him. He squatted on the large chair after he had wrapped himself as usual and opened the umbrella. He placed the alarm clock on the balcony’s low railing before him, swearing that the opportunity would not escape him again.

  Saniya watched all of this from inside her window. The alarm clock standing on the balcony wall made her laugh. She wished she could be patient and wait till morning to watch it go off. What would passersby in the street at dawn say when they heard the clock’s alarm sound over their heads and saw that effendi sleeping there with his gear and umbrella, looking so strange on the balcony?

  But she remembered how Mustafa had slept the night before and the chill air to which he was exposed at dawn for her sake. She didn’t want to make him spend another night on the balcony just so she could enjoy an amusing spectacle.

  When it was almost midnight she opened the window, intentionally making some noise. Mustafa sprang to his feet like a sleeping sentry surprised by his duty officer. As soon as Mustafa caught sight of her and saw that it was Saniya who had opened the window, she and not her ghost, and that his despair over not seeing her was a nightmare that had vanished, his countenance shone with a rare gleam of hope and joy. He rushed toward her impetuously and collided with the railing. He had almost forgotten there was the barrier of empty space separating them.

  Saniya, however, kept her feelings in check and pretended to be serious. She asked, “Haven’t you left for Al-Mahalla yet?”

  Mustafa exclaimed in surprise, “Al-Mahalla?”

  “Right, Al-Mahalla!”

  Mustafa replied in a voice filled with emotion, “Ask me if I have moved from this balcony since that night.”

  Saniya concealed a smile and said in an angry and threatening tone, “You mean you want me to close the window again?”

  He implored her, “The next time I’ll end up in the hospital.”

  Lightening her tone a little, she asked, “Wouldn’t it be better if you ended up in Al-Mahalla? Aren’t you concerned about your business, Mustafa?”

  The youth’s heart pounded intensely at this last sentence. He raised his head after a moment and gave her a long look. Then he declared with decisive determination, “Saniya!” only to fall silent. He spoke again suddenly: “I’m leaving for Al-Mahalla tomorrow.”

  “Leaving?” she echoed happily.

  He replied immediately, “But on one condition.” He stopped. Then he broke out, “I’m going to send my uncle’s wife on the first train.”

  Saniya hung her head and blushed.

  CHAPTER 24

  Events bore out the French archaeologist’s prediction: “A nation that at the dawn of humanity brought forth the miracle of the pyramids will be able to bring forth another miracle . . . or many. They claim this nation has been dead for centuries, but they haven’t seen its mighty heart reaching toward the sky from the sands of Giza. Egypt has created her heart with her own hands in order to live eternally.” Perhaps this archaeologist who lived in the past saw the future of Egypt more clearly than anyone else.

  In the month of March, at the beginning of spring, the season of creation, resurrection, and life, the trees turned green with new leaves, and their branches were fertilized and bore fruit.

  Egypt too, in the same manner, conceived and bore in her belly an awesome child. The Egypt that had slept for centuries rose to her feet in a single day. She had been waiting, as the Frenchman said, waiting for her beloved son, the symbol of her buried sorrows and hopes, to be born anew, and this beloved was born again from the loins of the peasant.

  * * *

  • • •

  On the morning of the memorable day, Muhsin was with his classmates when a pupil rushed in, breathless. On his way, whenever he met a cluster of people, he said a few quick words in a grave tone and the faces of the listeners fell. Eventually the news reached Muhsin’s ears. He had just begun to think about it and what it meant when he found the whole school around him, whispering, arguing, and questioning each other. The school bell rang, but no one paid any attention to it. It was an amazing moment in the history of the schools. The pupils rallied in this fashion and on all their faces was the same awe-inspiring expression. They were summoned to lessons but di
d not respond. It seemed that the day of resurrection had dawned.

  Everyone was talking about a man Muhsin had never heard of before, but he sensed in a moment that he would sacrifice his life for this man. His enthusiasm reached the point that he was shouting at his fellow pupils, “Leave the school! Go meet your comrades, the students at the other schools. The matter is too important for us to think about anything else now.” His comrades must have felt the same way, for they were all hastening toward the school gate. It was only a matter of minutes before they were all marching down the street. Muhsin thought about meeting up with the engineering school to join with Abduh, whose school was nearby. But they had not gone very far when they saw a crowd of students coming toward them. They discovered that these were the engineering students, who had also come out. Muhsin to his amazement saw his uncle Abduh at the head of them. He was waving his arms and shouting. His face was flushed and his brows knit. There was a ring to his voice that indicated a tremendous nervous excitement. The two schools closed ranks and all proceeded on to meet the other schools. Muhsin went to Abduh and put his arm in his. They marched on together, shouting slogans. Amid the commotion and the thunder of voices, Abduh asked Muhsin, “How did you come out?”

  Muhsin replied with the utmost simplicity, “The same way you did.”

  That question and answer must have been exchanged repeatedly between all those students from all the schools and between all classes of folks. Each group and band thought that it had initiated the uprising in response to a flaming new emotion. No one understood that this emotion had flared up in all their hearts at a single moment, because all of them were sons of Egypt, with a single heart.

  * * *

  • • •

  By sunset that day Egypt had become a fiery mass. Fourteen million people were thinking of only one thing: the man who expressed their feelings, who arose to demand their rights to freedom and life. He had been arrested, imprisoned, and banished to an island in the middle of the seas.

  * * *

  • • •

  Osiris, who had brought reconciliation to the land of Egypt, giving it life and light, was also arrested, imprisoned in a box, and banished, in scattered pieces, to the depths of the waters.

  Cairo was turned head over heels. Stores, coffee shops, and residences were closed. Lines of communication were disrupted, and demonstrations were widespread. The same turmoil arose in all the regions and throughout the countryside. The fellahin were even more vigorous than the city dwellers in their protests and anger. They cut rail lines to prevent military trains from arriving and set fire to police stations.

  * * *

  • • •

  Muhsin returned home and found President Hanafi telling Zanuba what had happened. He was explaining to her the causes and reasons. He was rubbing his knees, which were tired and exhausted. He had also walked in numerous demonstrations throughout the day. Salim returned soon as well. He had joined other groups. Everyone began to talk about what he had seen and heard and to predict what would happen. They repeated rumors, which become plentiful in such circumstances. Mabruk arrived. He too said that he had participated in a large demonstration in Al-Sayyida Square. He had been accompanied by the butcher and his assistant, the baker, and the orange vendor. They had smashed and destroyed the gas lamps and the hedges, after arming themselves with stones, heavy sticks, clubs, and knives. He related that trenches had been dug there. With the others, he had dug a trench two meters deep and three across!

  This became the household topic of conversation. Most likely the same conversation was going on in all other households. Abduh appeared and demanded supper soon, because he was going that night to the Azhar district, where a big meeting was to be held in the mosque. People would be discussing the present situation.

  All of them except President Hanafi, who was tired and wanted to sleep, agreed with Abduh and wanted to accompany him.

  By the time of the meeting, the situation was becoming critical. Al-Azhar was sealed off. The demonstrators had erected barricades behind which they fortified themselves. This district and the one called Tulun became arenas for bloody battles. It was said that many Egyptians had bared their chests to the machine guns with astonishing heroism. It was said that a Sudanese Egyptian had daringly advanced on a machine gun aimed toward him. He had snatched it and begun to brandish it like a club against his enemies.

  Abduh and his comrades did not retreat. Instead they maneuvered until they penetrated the blockade by passing through narrow and little-known alleys; they attended the meeting.

  * * *

  • • •

  A person looking at Cairo and its streets during that time would have seen a strange scene. In the midst of the demonstrations and chants fluttered Egyptian flags that showed the crescent moon cradling the cross. Egypt had perceived in a moment that the crescent and the cross were two arms of a single body with one heart: Egypt!

  * * *

  • • •

  The situation became increasingly unsettled. Amazingly Abduh, Muhsin, and Salim rushed and plunged into the revolution with abandon. Perhaps Zanuba was the only person who noticed this. She thought she understood the secret a little. Those three, who not long before had been as still and silent as the managers of a bank that had failed, who had been choked by despair and depression as though their souls were prisons from which they could not escape—these three had exploded with the revolution when it did. They were back and forth, all wrapped up in it and in events that renewed and stirred their senses. Their gloom and melancholy had departed and been replaced by concern, struggle, and zeal. Perhaps young Muhsin was the one who was most patently influenced by that historic event. All the bitterness of unrequited love had been transformed in his heart into fervent nationalist feelings. All his desire to sacrifice for the sake of his personal beloved had changed to a desire for daring sacrifice for the sake of his nation’s Beloved. This was what happened to Abduh and Salim as well, to a lesser extent.

  Amazing! Was it necessary to have this revolution to purge these victims of their emotions? Moreover, something else—was this the indispensable miracle needed so Muhsin would not fail his exam this year? In fact, the consensus of his teachers was that there was no hope for Muhsin. He himself had not been thinking about the examination or the competency diploma this year. But now the revolution had closed the schools and canceled the examinations. So he had been spared the stigma of failure by a miracle. Muhsin, however, did not attach much importance to this matter. He did not look at the revolution with the eye of self-interest. His powerful emotions had been transformed into a general patriotism that dominated his whole being and made him oblivious to everything else, even his personal safety in these dangerous circumstances.

  * * *

  • • •

  As soon as Mustafa journeyed to Al-Mahalla al-Kubra, he carried out his promise and sent his aunt, escorted by his servant, to spend a day in Cairo and visit the residence of Dr. Hilmi. She was to ask for Saniya’s hand from her mother.

  The agreement was reached in a preliminary way. The aunt returned to Al-Mahalla to announce the good news to the fiancé and to inform him of what she had done and what he needed to do. She had liked Saniya and began to describe her charms to Mustafa. Mustafa listened with joy and delight. She informed him also that it was Saniya who had smoothed things out. Without her, nothing would have been concluded with such speed. In fact, as soon as Mustafa’s aunt left, Saniya sighed with happy pleasure. She was counting the days on her fingers. She waited expectantly for Mustafa to appear from one day to the next so they could conclude the matter. But alas! The day after the aunt’s trip came that fateful day, and by nightfall the rail line between Tanta and Al-Mahalla al-Kubra had been cut. Mustafa was unable to travel to Cairo. Indeed he wasn’t even able to write to Saniya to reassure her. No one could describe Mustafa’s anxiety and distress. How could it be that at a time when he was able t
o see her publicly and to correspond openly with her as much as he wished, the link between them should be severed? But Saniya’s sorrow was even greater and her anxiety and grief more terrifying. Muhsin’s image came to her mind suddenly. In the depths of her soul she heard a cry asking her if this obstacle wasn’t her punishment for humiliating poor Muhsin that way.

  * * *

  • • •

  No one knew for sure whether the three, Abduh, Muhsin, and Salim, had joined a secret society, or what. The room on the roof had become a depository for huge bundles of revolutionary broadsides. Every evening a cart drawn by a donkey stopped at the door of 35 Salama Street. It brought a large wooden box that the driver would carry up, with the assistance of Mabruk and the supervision of Abduh, to the room on the roof. After it was emptied of its bundles, it was returned to the cart. No one knew exactly where this cart came from or where the bundles went. The three would have died rather than reveal this secret.

  * * *

  • • •

  One day a rumor went through town that people were being searched. Everyone on the streets and in the alleys and every patron of a coffeehouse or bar would be subject to search at any time. Any person found to have a weapon or suspect papers in his pocket would be taken to prison at once. Unfortunately the rumor came too late. At that hour Muhsin and Abduh were in a coffee shop called the Great Hookah. Their pockets were stuffed with pamphlets that they were distributing right and left. Before they knew it, two English officers had stormed the place, brandishing pistols. They were backed up by armed Egyptian soldiers. Abduh and Muhsin were searched. The pamphlets were pulled from their pockets. Their residence was searched after that. The room on the roof with its heaped-up bundles was discovered. This of course sufficed for them to arrest the entire household. That was the least that was done in such circumstances. Even President Hanafi and Servant Mabruk were arrested. Hanafi was taken from his bed. He was rubbing his eyes and swearing that he knew nothing. In fact, Hanafi was unjustly accused, because he did not know what was in the room on the roof. But he was always being falsely accused, and that fact did not at all spare him from bearing his share of the responsibility. Only Zanuba was exonerated. All the evidence indicated she was innocent. She didn’t know how to read or write and had no knowledge of anything. So they left her alone in the house—just her. The others were transported to the Citadel prison. Mabruk kept poking Captain Salim all along the way. He whispered angrily to him, “This is all your fault, Mr. Salim. You wouldn’t stop searching, until, in brief, they searched us, as the saying goes.”