come i n to his consulti ng room. He forgot the dignified air h e
p u t on for h i s clients and jumped up to welcome her. He
seated her on a cushion in front of him and h imself sat down
cross-legged, and the world was not wide enough for his joy. He
looked her up and down, but his attention came to rest on her
left eye, almost closed by its swollen and inflamed eyelids. He
said:
- You 've neglected i t, my girl; it was already red the first day
I saw you.
- I thought i t was enough to bathe it i n warm water. Busy
people like me forget.
- It's not right for you to neglect your health, especially if
it's for something as precious as your lovely eyes.
She smiled, touched by the compliment, while he reached
back to a shelf for a mug. From it he took a small package.
- Tie the contents i n a handkerchief, steam i t over boiling
water, then bind i t over your eye, every night till it's as beautiful
as its fellow.
She took the package and brought out her purse, glanci ng
at him inquiringly with her right eye. He laughed.
- Forget it! We're neighbors - and friends.
- But you pay for the tea you drink.
- In fact I'm payi ng your father. What a grand old man !
How I ' d love to know him ! I'm so sorry he's forced to go on
working at his age.
She said proudly:
- But his health is good and he refuses to stay at home. His
age is one of the things that make him sad about life, for he was
one of those who saw the events of Qaasim's time.
Arafa's face lit up with interest.
- Real ly! Was he one of his helpers?
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A raJa
- Oh no; but he tasted the happiness of those days and still
sighs for them.
- I'd like to get to know him and hear him talk.
- Don't get him on to that subject. I 'd rather he forgot
about it, for his own good. He was once in a bar, drin king with
some of his friends, and when he was drunk he stood up and
shouted at the top of his voice that things should go back to
what they were in Qaasim's day. As soon as he got back to the
Alley, he found Harpstrings in front of him and was punched
and hit till he passed out.
Arafa reflected angrily, then looked craftily at Awaatif and
said:
- There's no safety for anybody with these strongmen.
She stole a glance at him, wondering what was behind his
words. She said:
- That's true, there's no safety for anybody.
He hesitated, biting his lips, then said:
- I saw Harpstrings giving you such a look.
She looked down to hide a smile and said:
- Damn him !
- Doesn't it give a girl some pleasure to be admired by a
strongman like him?
- He has four wives.
His heart sank.
- And supposing he made room for another?
- I've hated him ever since he attacked my father, and the
same goes for all those heartless strongmen. They take their
protection money so haughtily you'd think they were doi ng
you a favor.
- Well said, Awaati£1 And well done Qaasim when he
destroyed them ! But they come back like a mysterious disease.
- That's why my father sighs for the days of Qaasi m.
He shook his head i n sudden disillusion.
-And others sigh for the days of Gebel or Rifaa; but the past
won't come back.
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Children of Gebelaawi
She said with charming i ndignation:
- You say that because you didn 't see Qaasim like my father
did.
- Did you see him?
- My father told me.
- My mother told me. But what's the good of that? It won't
deliver us from strongmen. My mother herself was one of their
victims, and see how they talk about her now she's dead.
- Really?
His expression darkened as when clear water is muddied.
- That's why I'm afraid for you, Awaatif. They threaten
livelihood, honor, love and peace. I tell you, si nce I saw that
brute leering at you I've been convi nced of the need to destroy
them.
She spoke with enthusiasm:
- They say that's the will of our Ancestor.
- And where's our Ancestor?
- In his Great House.
He said solemnly:
- Oh yes, your father talks about Qaasim, and Qaasim
talked about our Ancestor; that's what we hear; but all we see
is Qadri and Saadallah and Fisticuff and Harpstrings and
Yoosuf. We need strength to deliver us from the torment; what
use are memories?
He became aware that the drift of the conversation had
almost spoilt the meeting for him, so he changed his tone:
- The Alley needs strength just as I need you.
She stared at him disapprovingly, and he smiled with a
boldness that seemed natural in his piercing eyes. He said
seriously, to ward off the anger visible in her frown:
- A beau tiful girl, who works so hard she forgets about her
eye till it's swollen, comes to me thinking she needs me and
finds that in fact I'm the one who needs her.
She made to get up.
- It's time I went.
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A raJa
-Don't be annoyed, please. Remember, I haven't said
anything new; you must have noticed my admiration these past
days, for my eyes are always on your cafe. A bachelor like me
can't live alone for ever. His untidy house needs looking after,
and he earns more than he needs; somebody must share with
him.
She went out of the room, and he stood at the end of the hall
to see her off. She seemed unwilling to leave without any
salutation, and said goodbye.
He stayed where he was and sang quietly to himself:
Lovely creature hear my tune:
You're as radiant as the moon.
Fill my cup of joy up soon!
He almost bounced his way to the workshop and found
Hanash engrossed in his work. l-Ie asked:
-What are you doing?
1-Ianash showed him a bottle.
-Full, and firmly sealed. But it must be tested in the desert.
Arafa took it and examined the cork.
-Yes, in the desert; otherwise we'll give ourselves away.
Hanash said anxiously:
-We're beginning to earn a living, and life's smiling on us.
Don't throw away the happiness God has given you.
Hanash was beginning to value life now that it tasted sweeter
to him. Arafa smiled at this thought and looked at him for a
while, then said:
-She was your mother as well as mine.
-Yes, but she begged you not to think of revenge.
-You used to think differently.
- We'd be killed before we could get revenge.
Arafa laughed.
- I won't hide it from you that I stopped thinking of
revenge long ago.
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Children of Gebelaawi
Hanash's face shone.
- Give me the bottle and we'll empty it, my brother.
But Arafa held it tight, saying:
- No! We'll test it till it's perfect.
Hanash frowned at this teasing. Arafa went on:
- I mean what I say, Hanash, you old snake; believe me, I've
given up the idea of revenge, not because of our mother's
p leading bu t because I'm convinced that the strongmen must
be destroyed irrespective of any revenge.
- Because you love this girl.
Arafa laughed heartily.
- Love for the girl, love for life; call it what you like. Qaasim
was right.
-What has Qaasim to do with you? Qaasi m was carrying out
our Ancestor's wishes.
He pulled a face.
- Who knows? Our Alley tells these stories, but we in this
room are doing something decisive and certain. What security
is there in our life? Fisticuff will come tomorrow to steal our
earnings. If I lift a hand to marry Awaatif, Harpstrings' cudgel
wil l be in my way. I t's the same for everybody, even the beggars.
What spoils my happiness is what spoils the Alley's, and what
wil l make me safe is what will make it safe. I am not a strongman
nor one of Gebelaawi 's men, but I possess wonderful things i n
this room, and they give m e ten times as much power as Gebel,
Rifaa and Qaasi m put together.
He lifted the bottle as if to throw it, then gave it back to
Hanash.
- We'll test it tonight on the jebel. Cheer up and try to get
your enthusiasm back.
He left the workshop, went to the window and squatted on
the sofa, looking across at the makeshift cafe. Night was falling
slowly, and she was crying her wares. She avoided looking at his
window, which showed how much he was on her mind. A smile
p layed faintly on her lips. Arafa smiled, his whole world smiled.
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A raja
He was so pleased that he swore he would comb his hair every
morning. From Gemalia came the noise of people chasi ng a
thief. The drone of the rebec started in the cafe, and the bard
began his evening by chanting:
What is my one-oh?
Trustee Qadri , bravo !
What is my two-oh?
Strongman Saadallah , bravo!
What is my three-oh?
Mighty Fisticuff, bravo!
Arafa was torn merci lessly out of his dream. He said to
himself wearily: 'The stories are beginning again; when wi ll
they end? What's the use of listening to them all night? The
bard si ngs, and the hashish dens wake up. Miserable Alley! '
9 7 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A strange confusion came into Shakroon's life. Sometimes
he would speak in a very loud voice, as if he were making a
speech. People used to say sympathetically: 'Age ! It's just age ! ' .
H e would get very angry for the slightest reason or for no
reason at all; 'Age ! ' they said. He would lapse into silence for
long periods, till circumstances forced him to speak; 'Age ! '
they said again. He would say things that were coun ted as
heresy in the Alley, and people said anxiously: 'It's age ! May we
be spared ! ' . From behind his bars, Arafa often watched him
with tender concern. One day as he was studying him he said
to himself: 'An impressive old man, in spite of his tattered
clothes and his dirtiness ! His face is ravaged; on it is written the
decli ne that the Alley has suffered since Qaasi m's day. It's his
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Children of Gebelaawi
misfortune to have been a contemporary of Qaasim's and to
h ave enjoyed justice and peace, received his share of the
Trust's revenue and watched the new buildings go up, and
then to have seen all this stop by order of Qadri. He's altogether an u nlucky man whose life has lasted longer than i t should have done.'
Arafa saw Awaatif coming, her face without blemish now
that her eye was cured. He turned his attention to her and
called out:
- Tea please, young lady!
She brought him a cup and he spoke before he took it, to
make sure she stayed:
- Congratulations on your recovery, flower of the Alley!
She smiled.
- Thanks be to God - and to you !
He took the cup, and their fingertips touched. S h e went
away, and her springy step showed her pleasure and acceptance. He should really take the decisive step now, and he did not lack courage, but Harpstrings would make him pay a
thousand times over. It was Shakroon's fault for having placed
his daughter in Harpstrings's path, bu t he was a poor man,
worn out by pushi ngaround his barrow till he had been forced
to stop and open this unlucky cafe.
There was a great commotion in the distance. People
craned their necks i n the direction ofGemalia. Soon a carriage
appeared, full of women singing and clapping. In the midst of
them was a bride returning from the baths. Urchins ran
towards the carriage cheeri ng and hung on to its sides as it
made its way towards Gebel's sector. For a while the air
throbbed with whoops of joy and shouts of congratulation and
whispered obscenities. Shakroon stood up furiously and thundered:
- Hill Hit!
Awaatif hurried over to him and sat him down, rubbing his
back gently. Arafa wondered whether the man was dreaming
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A raja
or hallucinating. What a curse old age was! And if it was like
this, how could Gebelaawi now be living? He watched the old
man and, when he had calmed down, asked him:
- Dear old Shakroon, have you ever seen Gebelaawi?
He answered without looking at him:
- Fool! Don't you know Gebelaawi's been shut up i n his
house since before Gebel's time?
Awaatif smiled, and Arafa laughed and said:
- May God grant you a long life, Shakroon!
- A prayer that meant something when life meant some-
thing.
Awaatif came to take the cup. She whispered:
- Let him be! He hasn't been sleeping at all at night.
- My heart is with you, Awaatif. (Then , quickly before she
could go: ) I 'd like to tal k to him about us.
She raised a warni ng finger and went. He watched some
urchins playing leapfrog. Suddenly Harpstrings appeared,
coming from Qaasim's sector. Arafa drew his head back