Children of Gebelaawi (34 page)

Read Children of Gebelaawi Online

Authors: Naguib Mahfouz

Tags: #Fiction

and said:

- lf you could see how thin he is you wouldn't say that,

- It's enough; there won't be another Gebelaawi. What

does the young man do?

- I've taught him carpentry; bu t he's a spoilt only child. He

stays in my shop very little and wanders about in the desert and

on the jebel most of the time.

The bard smiled.

- A man doesn't settle down before he's married. And

where have you been, Shaafiy?

- In Muqattam Bazaar.

The man laughed loudly.

- Li ke Gebel ! But Gebel came back a conjurer and you've

come back as you left, a carpenter. Anyway your enemy's dead.

But the new one's as bad as the old.

Abda said quickly:

- They're all like that, but we just want to live in peace.

Several men recognized Shaafiy and hurried towards him.

There were embraces all rou nd and a babble of voices. Rifaa

looked about again with eager interest; his people were all

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around him, and this allayed much of the loneliness he had felt

since he had left Muqattam Bazaar. His gaze roved around til l

i t fel l on a window i n the first tenement-house, from which a

girl was staring fascinated at his face. When their eyes met she

looked away at the horizon. One of his father's friends noticed

this and whispered to him:

-Aysha, Dungbeetle's daughter! One Ioo k at her can cause

a bloodbath.

Rifaa blushed and his mother said:

- He isn ' t that kind of boy; but this is the first time he's seen

his Alley.

Out of the first tenement-house came a man as strong as an

ox, strutting along in an ample jellaba, an aggressive moustache bristling on his scarred and pock-marked face. People murmured: 'Dungbeetle! Dungbeetle ! ' Jawaad took Shaafiy

by the hand and led him forward, saying:

- A very good day to you, Strongman of Gebel's people.

Here's our brother, Mr. Shaafiy the carpenter, who has come

back to his Alley after twenty years' absence.

Dungbeetle gave Shaafiy's face a piercing look. For a moment he ignored his outstretched hand, then shook it without looking any friendlier and muttered coldly:

- Welcome!

Rifaa looked at him resentfully, and his mother whispered

to him to go and greet him. Rifaa went reluctantly and offered

his hand. Shaafiy said:

- My son Rifaa.

Dungbeetle gave Rifaa a look of dislike and contempt,

interpreted by the onlookers as scorn at his gentleness -

something unusual i n the Alley. He shook his hand limply,

then turned to his father asking:

- Do you thi nk that while you 've been away you've forgotten how we live i n the Alley?

Shaafiy understood the hint but hid his discomfort.

- We're at your service, sir, any time.

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Rifaa

Dungbeetle studied him doubtfully.

- Why did you leave your Alley?

Shaafiy said nothi ng, searching for a suitable answer.

Dungbeetle said:

- Running away from Snarler?

Jawaad the bard said hastily:

- It wasn't for any unforgivable offence.

Dungbeetle warned Shaafiy:

- You won't be able to run away from me when I'm angry.

Abda said hopefully:

- You 'll fi nd us very good people, sir.

Shaafiy and his family wen t surrounded by friends to Victory

House, where they were to take over empty rooms thatJawaad

would show them. At a window opening o n to the entrance

passage was a girl with a saucy kind of beauty. She stood

combing her hair in front of her reflecti on in the window

pane. When she saw the people coming she asked flirtatiously:

- Who's this coming like a bridegroom i n procession?

There was laughter, and one man said:

-A new neighbor for you Jasmine. He'll live opposite you

in the passage.

She laughed.

- God grant us more men!

Her eyes passed over Abda listlessly, but they rested on Rifaa

with interest and admiration. Rifaa was even more struck by

her look than by that of Aysha, Dungbeetle's daughter. He

followed his paren ts to the door of the lodgings opposite

Jasmi ne's, on the other side of the passage. Jasmi ne was

smgmg:

Mother, what a beauty!

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4 6 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Shaafiy opened his carpenter's shop by the gate of Victory

House. In the morning Abda went shopping, and Shaafiy and

his son Rifaa went to the shop and sat on the doorstep waiting

for custom. Shaafiy had enough money for a month or so and

was not worried. He examined the covered passage, which led

to the big courtyard, and said:

- This is the blessed passage where Gebel drowned our

enemies.

Rifaa looked at him with far-away eyes and a smile on his

attractive lips. His father went on:

And in this place Adham built his hut where so much

happened; and here Gebelaawi blessed his son and forgave

him.

Rifaa smi led still more, and his eyes swam. Great events were

reme mbered here, and, but for time, the footpri nts of

Gebelaawi and Ad ham would still be on the ground, and their

breath wou ld be in the air. From these windows the water had

been poured on the tyrants in the pit, fromjasmine's window

it had fallen on the enemy; and today nothing fell from it but

provocative glances. Time plays tricks on all things, however

great. Gebel himself had waited i n the courtyard surrounded

by weak men, and yet had won.

- Gebel won, Father, bu t what use was victory?

Shaafiy sighed and said:

- We agreed not to think about that. Didn't you see

Dungbeetle?

A flirtatious voice called:

- Mr. Carpenter !

Father and son exchanged disapproving looks. The father

stood up, turned his head and saw Jasmi ne looking out from

her window, her two long plaits dangling. He called back:

- Yes !

She said in a playfully soft, slow voice:

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Rifaa

- Send your boy up to fetch a table to be mended.

Shaafiy sat down again and said to his son:

- Go, and trust in God!

Rifaa found the door of the lodgings ready open for him. He

coughed, she invited him in, and he entered. He foun d her in

a brown gown with white trimmings round the neck and over

the breasts, and her feet and legs were bare. She said nothing

for a while, to test the effect of her appearance on him. When

she saw that the innocent look in his eyes did not change she

pointed to a small table standing on three legs in the corner of

the room and said:

- The fourth leg is under the sofa; fix it on, please, and

varnish the table.

- At your service, miss.

- And the price?

- I'll ask my father.

She exclai med:

- And you? Don ' t you know the price?

- He's the one who deals with all that.

She studied his face intently and asked:

- And who will do the mendi ng?

- Me, with him to su pervise and help.

She laughed unrestrainedly.

-The youngest of our strongmen, 'Melon head', is younger

than you, bu t he can control a whole procession, and you can ' t

put a leg on a table by yourself.

Rifaa's tone showed he wanted to end the conversation.

- The important thing is that it comes back to you as good

as new.

He fetched the fourth leg from under the sofa and carried

the table on his shoulder towards the door, saying goodbye.

When he put the table down in the shop, his father said

gru mpily, as he examined it:

- I must say I really would have preferred our first job to

come from somewhere cleaner.

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Rifaa said innocently:

- There's nothing dirty about her, Father, but she seems to

be very much alone.

- Nothing's more dangerous than a woman alone.

- Perhaps she needs guidance.

Shaafiy said scornfully:

- Our job's carpentry, not guidance. Bring me the glue.

In the evening Shaafiy and Rifaa went to the Gebelite Cafe.

Jawaad the bard was sitting on his bench, sipping his coffee.

'Biubberlips', the owner of the cafe, sat near the door, while

Dungbeetle was in the place of honor, surrounded by a circle

of admirers. Shaafiy and his son went over to the strongman to

pay him their humble respects, then sat down near to

Blubberlips. It was not long before the hookah came round to

Shaafiy. For his son he ordered a cup of cinnamon and hazel.

The atmosphere in the cafe grew drowsy. A cloud of smoke

gathered, and the stagnant air was thick with the smell of

honeyed tobacco and mint and cloves. Bushy moustaches and

heavy eyelids drooped on the men's pale faces. There was a

babble of coughing and clearing of throats, dirty jokes and

coarse laughter. From the Alley came the sound of urchins

singing:

Children of our Alley, what news?

Are you Christians, are you jews?

Dates are what you 're eating.

Coffee's what you 're drinki ng.

A cat crouched by the door, ready to attack; it pounced

under a bench and there was the sound of a scuffle, then it

emerged carrying a mouse in its jaws. Rifaa put down his cup

of cinnamon, upset by the sight. He looked up and saw

Dungbeetle spi tting. The strongman shouted tojawaad:

- When are you going to begin, you cu nning old fox?

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Rifaa

Jawaad smiled and nodded, took up his rebec and played

some introductory music. Then he began with a salute to

Trustee lhaab, to Strongman Bayoomi, and to Dungbeetle,

Gebel's successor, and went on to recite:

Adham sat in the office receiving the new tenants. He was

looking in his ledger when the last man announced his name:

' Idrees Gebelaawi'. Adham raised his head fearfully and saw

his brother standing before him .. .

T h e bard carried on the story to a n atlentive audience. Rifaa

followed him eagerly; this was a real bard and these were the

genui ne stories. Many a ti me his mother had told him: 'Our

Alley is the alley of stori es. ' And what good stories they were !

Perhaps they would console him for the entertainments of

Muqattam Bazaar and for his solitary musi ngs. Perhaps they

would soothe his heart which burnt with a longing as mysterious as the barred and bolted Great House, which showed no sign oflife save the tops of the mulberry and fig and palm trees.

What sign was there of the life of Gebelaawi , other than the

trees and the tales? And what sign was there that he himself was

descended from him, other than the likeness thatjawaad the

bard imagined he felt with his hands?

The evening wore on and Shaafiy was smoking his third

hookah. The shouts of pedd lers and urchins died away in the

Alley, leaving only the music oflhe rebec, the throb of a distant

drum and the cries of a woman whose husband was beating

her. In the story, ldrees had by now brought about Adham's

expu lsion into the desert, followed by Umayma weeping ...

'just as my mother left the Alley, with me stirring in her womb.

Damn strongmen ! And damn cats when mice die in their jaws !