The Harafish (26 page)

“I've decided to go and look for him myself,” declared the chief.

38
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Wahid was away for three whole days. When Aziza saw his face, her heart sank. “It must be bad news,” she cried.

“His agents confirmed that he never reached them,” said Wahid despondently.

“What can it mean?” demanded Aziza, white-faced.

“Something tells me he's fine,” said Unsiyya, with a confidence she did not feel.

“Something tells me the opposite,” retorted Aziza.

“Don't succumb to morbid thoughts,” said Rummana.

“There are more of your family missing than there are here,” shouted Aziza.

“God grant these forebodings come to nothing,” said Unsiyya fervently.

“Amen,” murmured Raifa.

At this Aziza let out a wail. “What can I do? I'm a woman. I've got no power!”

“I've taken the first step. There are other avenues to explore,” said Wahid.

“He doesn't have any enemies,” said Unsiyya.

“That's true,” agreed Rummana quickly, “but things can happen on the road.”

Aziza sighed, and Wahid said, “I'll leave no stone unturned.”

39
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One week followed another. The days went carelessly by. People gave their attention to the weather, to work, sleep and food, certain now that Qurra would never return to the alley.

40
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Aziza fought persistently against indifference and oblivion. Qurra's disappearance was a disaster happening anew each morning. She was full of sorrow and anger, refusing to believe that the laws of existence could change in an instant. Worn out by emotion, she fell ill and lay in bed for a week. Again she summoned Wahid and told him, “I'm not going to let this rest, however long it takes.”

“You don't know how distressed I am, Aziza,” said Wahid.
“It's a matter of shame that this should happen to the chiefs brother.”

“I won't shut up.”

“All my men have been told to give priority to the search, and I've asked the chiefs of friendly neighborhoods for help.” He paused, then continued, “I went to my mother in Bulaq. She's blind now but she came with me to the Bulaq chief. The whole world's looking for Qurra.”

41
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Her father, Ismail Bannan, went to the local police chief, who promised to help in any way he could. The father tried to console his daughter and encourage her not to give up hope, but she said, “I feel I know the truth in my heart of hearts.”

Reading her thoughts, he said apprehensively, “Take care you don't malign innocent people.”

“Innocent!”

“You should watch your tongue!”

“Those two are our only enemies.”

“A brigand is everyone's enemy!”

“They're our only enemies.”

“You have no evidence except your past suspicions.”

“I'm not going to let this rest, however long it takes,” she persisted.

42
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She rushed into Diya's apartments, something no one normally dared to do, and found her sitting cross-legged on her mattress, absorbed in the patterns on the rug. She threw herself down at her side, but the woman did not look in her direction and seemed not to notice her. “Diya, tell me what you think,” she pleaded.

Her voice did not penetrate Diya's enchanted world. “Say something to me, Diya,” she whispered eagerly.

But Diya neither heard her nor felt her, and made no response.

Aziza felt she was struggling to reach an inaccessible place, making a ridiculous assault on the unknown.

43
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She lived in her apartments in semi-isolation with Aziz, even eating alone there. Rummana and Raifa came to visit her, their sorrow at Qurra's disappearance conspicuously on show.

“The way you keep yourself apart makes us doubly sad,” began Raifa.

“I'm not in a fit state to mix with other people,” she declared, avoiding their eyes.

“We're your closest relations,” murmured Rummana.

“Sadness is like an infectious disease that needs to be isolated.”

“Mixing with people cures it,” said Rummana, “and you must remember we haven't stopped looking.”

“Yes. We have to find out who the killer is,” she said determinedly.

“I don't believe he was murdered,” exclaimed Raifa.

Aziza fought back the tears proudly. She was unconvinced by their kind words and the meeting brought her no comfort. She kept in contact with Wahid and her father, and did not allow despair to sap her will. The days passed and Qurra melted into oblivion.

44
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Publicly Qurra was said to have been the victim of a highway robbery, but in the bar and the hashish den most of the suspicions were focused on Rummana. People said he had got rid of his brother before he could divide up the business and make Rummana a bankrupt. Now he was running the grain merchant's, disposing freely of his own money and his nephew's. He had given up riotous living and gambling so that people wouldn't say he was wasting an orphan's money, and was careful not to cross Wahid, the chief of the clan. All the same the business was not the giant success it had been; Rummana put it down to his lack of commercial
skill and expertise. “I can't do any better than I am doing,” he complained to his brother. “I'd be happy for you to come in with me if you want.”

“You know I have no experience in such things,” returned Wahid coldly.

45
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Aziza paid little attention to the declining fortunes of the grain shop. She dreamed of the day Aziz would take his father's place, break away from his uncle, and restore the business to its former glory. To this end she devoted herself to his education, sending him to the Quran school at an early age and having him tutored privately in accounting and commerce. She told him tales of his maternal forbears and even, out of loyalty to Qurra, extolled the heroic deeds and legendary glories of Ashur al-Nagi. Consciously and unconsciously she taught him to be wary of his uncle and aunt and avoid their company, and plied him with accounts of the hostility between his father and uncle and the suspicious nature of his father's disappearance.

Qurra was forgotten, living only in Aziza's heart, and to a lesser extent in Aziz's imagination. Aziza had a daydream which she loved to replay in her mind; she would roam the world in search of him, and either find him, or establish beyond doubt who had killed him; then she would take revenge to restore justice to the world and peace in his heart, and recover her own peace of mind.

46
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When Aziz turned ten Aziza asked if he could become an apprentice in his father's business. Rummana agreed at once. “Welcome to the dear son of my dear brother,” he enthused.

Shortly after that Aziza's father died and she inherited a considerable sum of money. She decided to keep it for Aziz to invest in his business when he was free of his uncle.

Eighteen months later Unsiyya died and the house was empty
of loved ones. Only Rummana and Raifa were left, and Diya if she could be counted. She was no longer capable of her daily promenade through the alley and lived in total isolation in her apartments. Every day shortly before sunset she would hang the censer out through the wooden latticework at her window, dry-eyed; even the tears no longer came to her aid.

47
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In his free time Rummana watched attentively. Aziz now sat in his father's place in the manager's office. He walked with firm steps, showing remarkable composure for one just approaching adolescence. He was a handsome boy, full of life, tall and slender with pleasant features and eyes which were thoughtful, sometimes anxious. Uncle and nephew were outwardly courteous to one another, without showing any real affection. Behind the polite words and sweet smiles lurked antipathy. The deceptive sweetness of a bitter April. He was full of his mother's poisoned breaths, and could be a dangerous enemy one day! He kept telling himself that the boy could be his son, even though he looked like an exact mixture of Aziza and Qurra. But what did it matter? His spirit was the decisive factor, not his blood. He was his brother's son, and his enemy. He couldn't love him, even if he did think he might be his—which he probably wasn't anyway. If the boy had known what was in his mind, he would most likely have hated him more.

“You're turned in on yourself, Aziz. Why?” he asked him one day.

The boy stared blankly at him as if he hadn't understood.

“Where are your friends?” persisted Rummana. “Why don't I see you around with them?”

“I invite them to the house sometimes,” he replied uncertainly.

“That's not enough.” Rummana laughed. “I never hear you calling me uncle.”

Aziz looked embarrassed.

“I'm your uncle, and your friend.”

Aziz smiled obligingly. “Of course.”

Rummana assuaged his fears with a neat plan: he decided to begin taking his nephew along to male gatherings, in order to draw him out of his defensive shell and prise him from his mother's grip.

He returned to his accounts but was quickly distracted by overwhelmingly powerful images: he saw Aziz at death's door after an accident or illness.

48
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He revealed his misgivings to Raifa. “I've always warned you that snake was planning something,” she said.

“I don't need you to warn me,” he said irritably.

“And you don't need someone to tell you what you ought to do,” she returned.

They had quarreled about the same thing so often. There was the devil looking through her beautiful eyes again.

“We might not always be so lucky,” he grumbled.

She laughed scornfully. “All right. Let's just wait and see what happens!”

“He's begun to discuss business with me, so there's hope!”

“Do you imagine you'll be able to snatch him from his mother's arms, when she's so fired up with hate?”

“He still doesn't know the pleasures that exist in the world!”

“The snake has burrowed deep inside him.”

He exhaled bad-temperedly. The silence crackled with murderous thoughts. From the alley came the sound of boys shouting, followed by a pattering on the wooden lattice.

“It's raining again,” muttered Raifa.

Idly, he prodded at the coals in the stove with an iron poker. “How cold it is!” he shivered.

Breaking in on his thoughts, she said suddenly, “There's a remote chance…”

“What?”

“It's not impossible that a boy like him would be tempted by the thought of restoring the past glories of the Nagis.”

“Aziz?”

“Yes. He's a dreamer like your father.”

He gazed at her, bewildered. He feared her as much as he admired her. But he said listlessly, “He doesn't trust me.”

“You can prime him without him knowing you're doing it.” She sighed pleasurably. “Then Wahid can be warned of his intentions at the appropriate time!”

What was the point of it all? He sometimes felt a deep dissatisfaction. But he enjoyed passing the time with his bloodthirsty daydreams.

49
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Rummana took his nephew to male gatherings on the pretext of introducing him to the employees, and Aziza could not object.

The water pipe was passed around but he never invited the boy to partake. “It's obligatory for men on these occasions,” he told him, “but you should keep away from it. It's not suitable for you.”

Aziz got to know a great number of people. It pleased him that they still remembered his father with genuine affection.

“He was the most gentle and reliable of men.”

“He always put morals first and business second.”

“He had the same attitude to business as his ancestors had to being clan chief!”

“Too bad the glorious age of the Nagis has gone!”

“One day someone will put them back where they belong.”

Such sentiments were repeated at every gathering. On the way home Rummana would say to him, “These people never stop dreaming.” Or, “If it weren't for your uncle Wahid, we'd count for nothing around here.”

Once Aziz replied, “But Wahid isn't like Ashur.”

“Nobody's like Ashur. The age of miracles is past. We should be proud that a Nagi is chief again.”

He wanted to look into his heart. When they were sitting with the men he would steal a glance at him and feel a sort of delight at the enthusiasm shining in his eyes.

50
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One evening Aziza said to Aziz, “The time has come.”

He realized what she meant, but he waited, and she went on. “You can stand on your own two feet now. You're not a child any longer. Go into business on your own. I've got enough money to guarantee you'll be as successful as your father.”

He nodded, but not with the enthusiasm she had anticipated.

“Get away from your father's enemy,” she urged. “He's had enough of your money.”

“I've said I'll do it.”

“You don't seem too keen.”

“I am. I've waited for this day for a long time.”

“You'll do it at once?”

“Of course.”

“You seem preoccupied. I've noticed it a lot recently, and put it down to problems at work.”

“That's it.”

“Come on, Aziz,” she said skeptically. “I can tell from your eyes that there's something else.”

“Don't make a mountain out of a molehill,” he laughed.

It was as important to keep his secret from her as from his uncle Wahid. He knew exactly what her attitude would be.

“Don't hide anything from me, Aziz,” she said anxiously. “We're surrounded by enemies. You must tell me everything.”