The Beginning and the End (21 page)

Stretching out his hand in farewell, Hassan smiled and pressed his brother's hand. “May God give you safe conduct. My regards to everybody, and tell Mother that I'll visit her shortly,” he said.

Disapproving and resentful, Hussein left the house. Climbing cautiously down the stairs with no handrail, he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he paid no attention to the putrefying odor.

The members of the family were gathering in the brothers' room, which henceforth would become Hassanein's alone. As she cast a glance at Hussein's face, Nefisa's heart was pierced with pain.

“Oh, God! This will be the last night our family will be together!” she cried.

On hearing these words, their mother felt stabbed in the heart, despite the great patience life had taught her. Nevertheless, she smiled, or rather she forced a smile on her dry lips.

“Hussein is a mature man,” she said. “He can manage to live by himself with no trouble or confusion. I'm completely certain that he won't forget us. He will always remember us as we shall always remember him. Don't be silly, darling, this is life. Painful though it is, the members of every family are eventually bound to part happily from one another, for each has his or her own role to perform in life.”

Hussein knew his mother so well that he realized that she was hiding her sorrow under a cloak of wisdom and firmness, as she often did. So he decided to grapple firmly with his own sense of desolation. Like a child, he had wept bitterly. But he was destermined not to weep again. Imitating his mother's smile, he murmured, “We shall meet during holidays. Perhaps I'll be transferred to Cairo one day.”

“This is bound to happen one day,” Hassanein remarked thoughtfully.

Hassanein felt melancholy and depressed. He had never been separated from his brother, not since he was born. He did not know how to face life without him. Hussein was a brother and friend to him. Though there were many occasions for dispute
between them, and they sometimes even quarreled, they were indispensable to each other. Had Bahia been less stubborn, he would never have complained of loneliness. Yet he consoled himself in parting from his brother by the thought of writing letters to him every now and then. Perhaps during holidays he could travel to Tanta to see him. Could he hope to receive a monthly sum of money from Hussein, perhaps fifty or thirty piasters, especially since the fees he received from private lessons were discontinued at the end of the school year? How he wished he had enough nerve to confide his hopes to his brother. But he persuaded himself to be patient, postponing this matter until a more favorable occasion.

Samira's mind continued to churn. She was pleased that she had succeeded in maintaining an appearance of composure. However, this evening the agony in her heart reached its peak. She experienced a mysterious sense of remorse for the favoritism she had showed Hassanein and the sacrifice of the best part of herself for his sake. But what had things come to?! Hussein, her meek son, had accepted the sacrifice of his career and the suffering of loneliness for the sake of his family, and for Hassanein in particular. Her pain was intensified by the feeling that it was her duty to speak to Hussein, with detachment and no evidence of emotion, about a sore subject; she must disguise her actual purpose, the defense of family interests, by giving the impression that her real motive was love. Tenderly and compassionately, she looked at Hussein as she arranged his clothes in his father's suitcase.

“You're wise, and that gives me reassurance. Above all, I hope you will continue your gentlemanly conduct in your new surroundings and avoid evil company,” she said.

“Mother, rest entirely assured about this,” Hussein answered with a smile.

However, the reference to “evil company” evoked in his mind the image of Gandab alley, the stair without banisters, and the
gold bracelets. Dispirited, his face lost its glowing smile. He bent over the suitcase to hide his sadness.

“Don't forget your family,” his mother continued. “I know there is no need to remind you of this, but I must tell you that we shall need your help until Hassanein gets a job and Nefisa gets married.”

“This was my only reason for accepting the job.”

Horror-stricken, Nefisa shuddered. The word “marry” pierced her soul, and she imagined it disclosed her secret. Did her mother still have such hopes? Didn't she know that her daughter would rather die than marry? She cast a curious glance at Hussein's face. He was in the dark about what had happened. None of them could have possibly imagined it. Impossible! As the room swam before her eyes, she saw them gazing at her in demented fury, their fiery, bulging eyes flaming with anger and preying like monsters on her flesh. She shook her head to banish these horrible fantasies. Eventually she managed to recognize her surroundings for what they really were. But in spite of herself, she soon remembered the hours of her weakness when she had been seduced, overcome by the sexual urge brought about by her despair and poverty. In these hours of weakness, forgetting everything but her thirsty, unsatiated desire, she felt like mutilating herself. Now, struck dumb in the presence of her family, she remembered those awful hours; she was overwhelmed with painful shame and soundless fear. She kept looking curiously from her mother to her brothers. Though, of course, it was too late to repair the damage, she still saw a chance to retreat. But…Oh, God! She did not know what to say. What use was it now? What hope did life hold out for her? She was doomed to self-destruction.

“Keep the money you need to meet your living expenses, and send us the rest of your salary,” Samira went on. “You must do so, Hussein. We've nothing more in the house that is worth selling.”

“I'll do my best.”

Since their mother had asked for the rest of Hussein's salary, Hassanein almost lost hope of receiving an allowance from his brother. While Hussein's appointment might afford his family some relief, Hassanein would remain badly in need of money, especially during the long summer holidays. He wondered, once he had a job, whether his mother would have similar claims upon him! Impossible! By the time he finished his studies, his mother would be relieved of her most burdensome family duties. So it would be possible for him to marry and look after himself. Nefisa and Hussein being the victims of these difficult times, they had to face the storm at its most violent. He felt pity and sympathy for them, but he rejoiced that his prospects were more cheerful than theirs.

Without revealing all her thoughts, Samira wished to put Hussein on his guard against the snares of marriage. She was well aware that many parents easily laid traps for bachelors, away from their homes, to marry their daughters. But she was at a loss as to how to raise this point with Hussein, seeing that Hassanein, his younger brother, still a youngster in school, was already engaged and preparing to marry. Reluctantly she relinquished the idea of broaching this subject. However, she had confidence in Hussein's prudence and wise judgment.

The family conversation rambled on for a long time about various matters, and Farid Effendi and his family came to say goodbye to Hussein. They were, as usual, warmly welcomed. Their affection, generosity, and neighborliness were held in high esteem. Perhaps, since Hassanein's unofficial engagement to Bahia, a change of mood had come over some members of his family. Samira, for example, believed that they had used stratagems to capture her green young son and take from her the most dazzling of her family's hopes. Moreover, it was impossible for Nefisa to love anyone who aimed at possessing Hassanein. But these unspoken sentiments failed to weaken the ties of affection and brotherliness binding the two families. Samira
could not possibly forget Farid Effendi's helpfulness and kindness, and Hussein was delighted by this farewell visit. He felt deeply grateful to this dear family, the Effendi, his wife, the girl Bahia, and his former pupil Salem. Gently and sincerely, they conversed about past memories and present hopes.

“Congratulations on the job,” Hussein heard them say to him. “We've come to bid you goodbye and wish you a safe journey. We'll miss you a lot. It's a pity that Salem has lost an incomparable teacher.”

Shy and reserved though she was, Bahia said to him gently, “You'll return to us shortly, by God's will.”

With both tongue and heart he thanked her for her gentleness.

A really beautiful girl,
he thought,
refined and decent. Hassanein is a splendid young man and he'll be a splendid husband. Has he kissed those charming lips? He has long complained and grumbled about her modesty. How wonderfully rare is this girl! But I leave tomorrow. These people will turn into mere images and memories. They'll get together often again as in the past, just as they are now. Yet they may remember me only a little, or perhaps not at all. But how shall I be? And where? In my loneliness, is there anything for me to do but remember them? The greater my misfortune, the stronger and more patient I become. And I'll remain so forever!

Hassanein's face disappeared amidst a crowd of people and their farewells. The pyramid-shaped ceiling of the Cairo railway station receded until the inside appeared obscure. Everything was receding faster and faster. Hussein bade Cairo goodbye. He withdrew his head inside the carriage, and sitting in a proper posture, he closed his eyes to hide a tear that had long contended with his self-composure. Quickly he winked, to shake it from his eyelashes. To his left sat an Effendi reading his newspaper, while in front of him two villagers were conversing. Though the carriage was only half full, the noise of the passengers was louder than the rattle of the train's wheels. His sadness had been tempered when he saw a tear in Hassanein's eyes. Conversing together on the platform, the two brothers had maintained their composure, but tears gushed to Hussein's eyes as the train started to move and he saw Hassanein waving to him. At home, Nefisa had wept so bitterly that her eyes became swollen. How pitifully and tenderly he recalled her ugly face! His mother, at whom he forced himself to smile, took him to her breast and kissed him on the cheeks. Perhaps she was doing this for the first time! At least he could not remember that she had ever kissed him before. By temperament, she was very firm with them. But this apparent firmness could not obliterate her deep tenderness. She believed farewell tears to be an ill omen, and preferred to keep her tears in check, but he realized that her convulsing lids foreshadowed the profuse tears that would soon gush from her eyes behind a closed door.

Perhaps she wept for a long time,
he thought.
Perhaps she is still weeping.
At this thought he felt profoundly depressed. As he realized that he had never seen her weep before his father's
death, his depression became more intense.
What a great woman she is! God has ordained that a mortal catastrophe would befall our family. Yet His Grace has also ordained this woman to be our mother. What might our fate have been without her? I wonder how she managed to feed and clothe us! How, too, could she have managed to control and direct us? How was it possible for her, under such cruel circumstances, to fulfill our family needs! This is a miracle that baffles the mind. But for my late father, she would even have made a different man of Hassan. I should speak of Hassan with more consideration. Without his help I would have lost my job. His money is all I have to live on until the end of the month! The bracelets! What a dreadful memory! Yet in order to live, I have to forget. One day I shall pay off the debt and draw the curtain on this most painful memory.

To flee from his thoughts, he looked out the window. He saw the vast fields extending to meet the horizon, green, blooming, and delightful, the tops of their growing plants swaying in a constant gentle breeze. Here and there peasants and bulls and grazing cattle appeared like dummies swallowed up in the vast fields. An autumnal sky above, white and pale, was receding here and there into lakes of pure blue. The train hurried by a crystal-clear brook, the melting rays of the sun on its surface turning its waters into dazzling mercury. As though swimming in space with the monotonous sound of the throbbing engine as an accompaniment, the telegraph wires moved regularly in endless waves. Looking again at the endless flat earth, mute, patient, and good, he thought again of his mother. Like the green earth, she was as patient, as generous, and as exhausted by time. Poor woman! Her shabby clothes made it impossible for her to visit respectable people! His eyes filled with tears, and the scene lost its charm. He prayed to God to give him the wherewithal to relieve his stoical mother and patient family.
How curious that Egypt unmercifully devours its own offspring!
he thought.
Yet they say we are a contented people. Oh, God! This is the height of human misery! Nay, it is the height of human misery to be miserable and contented! This is death itself But for our poverty, I would have continued my
education. There is no doubt about it. In our country fortune and respectable professions are hereditary in certain families. I am not spiteful, but sad; sad for myself and for millions of others like myself. I am not just an oppressed individual, but a representative of an oppressed people. This is what generates in me the spirit of resistance, filling me with a kind of consoling happiness for which I know no name. No. I am neither spiteful nor desperate. Even though I have missed the opportunity of higher education, Hassanein, my brother, will not. Perhaps Nefisa will find a suitable husband. Once the soul returns to our family, we will remember the dark days with pride.

Turning to his left, he saw that the Effendi, with a bored expression on his face, had folded his newspaper. As if he had been waiting for this casual turn of the head from Hussein, the Effendi, without any preliminaries, waved the folded newspaper and began to speak.

“But for the students, the leaders of this country would never have united. Who would ever have imagined that Sidki would agree to meet with Nahas? The Palace and the Wafdists at the same table!”

Hussein welcomed the conversation with relief. “That is true, sir,” he said.

“Who could ever have believed the British would recognize Egypt as an independent, sovereign state and agree to abandon their four reservations. Do you really think the capitulations will be abolished?”

“I do.”

“Nahas will remain in office forever,” the man said jubilantly. “The time for coups is over now. Are you a Wafdist?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so, from the good-natured expression on your face. A true patriot must be a Wafdist. Apart from the advantages of coalition, the Liberal Constitutionalists are Englishmen wearing tarbushes.”

“True, indeed.”

“Are you traveling to Alexandria?”

“No, just to Tanta.”

“May the mercy of the saintly Sidi Badawi be upon us! I've spent some years in Tanta.”

Hussein looked interested. “I'm a new employee. Could you direct me to a modest hotel?” he asked.

The man rubbed his chin with his hand as he tried to remember.

“Go to the Britannia Hotel on Al Amir Farouk Street, owned by Michel Kustandi,” he said. “There you can have a room for one pound fifty a month.”

Then they conversed for a long time, comparing life in hotels and flats.