The Harafish (30 page)

“It's me—Abd Rabbihi, the baker.”

“Get out of here, you drunkard.”

“I want my wife. The law's on my side.”

“Stop making such a racket around the houses of respectable people.”

“Will I only get justice from the devil then?”

“Go to hell.”

Abd Rabbihi flung himself at Raifa's door, beating on it with his fists, until Sheikh Gibril came down from his house and hauled him away, protesting, “Stop it! You're crazy! Come with me. I'll try and put in a good word for you with madame.”

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Gibril found Raifa in a wild fury. Now Zahira was not the only one to have a quarrel with Abduh.

“That miserable baker,” she fumed.

“He's only too ready to serve you,” said the sheikh.

“Didn't you see his effrontery? Am I going to hand her back to him and let him have his revenge?”

“I really think he loves her.”

“Animals don't know what love is!”

“What if he tries to use the law to make her go back?”

“Let him do his worst!”

31
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Nuh summoned Abd Rabbihi to the café where he held court. He looked hard at him, then said imperiously, “Divorce the woman!”

Abd Rabbihi was astounded. Despair engulfed him. He realized that Raifa knew how to get her own back. The chief found his silence oppressive and roared, “Have you lost your tongue?”

“Didn't you say, sir,” he began modestly, “that divorce was useless in a case like mine?”

“You're useless,” mocked the chief.

“The law's on my side, sir.”

“Divorce her, Abd Rabbihi,” said the chief in a dismissive tone.

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The divorce took place. Abd Rabbihi was dragged toward it like a condemned man to the gallows. The dream was over, the precious jewel lost. Zahira was drunk with victory and the joy of freedom. At the same time she felt a twinge of regret inside her for the passion that was lost to her forever. She held Galal tightly to her breast, fruit of a love she knew had been precious. Her ambition quickly reasserted itself and her personality was clearly revealed: hard, steeped in pride and suffering.

“I get what I want when I make up my mind,” boasted Raifa happily.

True. She was a strong, influential woman. But she would not have had her way without recourse to the clan chief. The power of
the clan chief: eternal subject of fantasy, fatal source of unhappiness for the Nagi family, summit crowned with shining stars!

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She smiled encouragingly.

“Congratulations on regaining your freedom and honor,” said Muhammad Anwar, the man with the caviar.

Taking his chance when Raifa went to attend to some business he whispered, “I'm waiting.” His eyes gleamed with desire and he persevered with his plea: “I want to do it legally.”

How did he view her? As a merchant views his servant? She didn't really like him. She'd always seen him as weak and servile. But he had the power to give her some kind of status and class. Could she hope for anything better than him?

She smiled at him encouragingly.

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Abd Rabbihi got so thoroughly drunk that the floor of the bar moved beneath his feet. “Is it shameful for a man to cry?” he asked Sanqar al-Shammam.

The bar owner snorted with laughter. “If he's the size of a mule, like you!”

Abd Rabbihi cradled the calabash in his hands and began rocking it from side to side as if he was dancing. “Take yourself away, Abd Rabbihi,” he said out loud. “Go and hide yourself in the darkness. Even the dust in the alley has more strength than you. The only time you test your strength is pushing dough into the oven. God have mercy on you!”

“What's got into your head?”

“Divorce. I divorced her. With a single word, I ruined everything. Even a louse puts up a fight. How your enemies must be gloating, Abd Rabbihi!”

“It's an honor to obey the clan chief,” cautioned Sanqar.

“Then I thank God,” he muttered hurriedly, taking fright
even though he was drunk. “But there's something else weighing on my mind,” he added with a sigh.

“What's that?”

“I still love the damned woman.”

“That's what really disgraces a man,” laughed Sanqar.

“Strange, by God, it's strange,” sang Abd Rabbihi in a voice like a donkey braying.

“Keep singing! Singers have always been crossed in love, from what I can make out!”

35
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Abd Rabbihi went back to delivering bread to Madame Raifa's house after several well-disposed people had put in a good word for him.

“I hope you're not angry with me anymore?” he ventured timidly one day.

“I'm ready to let bygones be bygones,” she said coldly.

He hesitated, then implored, “Leave me alone with her for a minute.”

She looked warily at him. “No.”

“I'll talk to her in front of you then.”

She pondered briefly, then called Zahira who appeared in a navy dress, looking as fresh as a flower. They gazed at each other and she did not blink or lower her eyes. She seemed like a stranger, distant and cool. A picture quite at variance with the struggle raging in the depths of her soul.

“I never meant any harm. Let's forget what happened.”

She said nothing.

“I'm sorry for what I did.”

“Say something, Zahira,” prompted Raifa.

“I want you back. Our life together must mean something,” said Abd Rabbihi.

“No,” mumbled Zahira.

“We can't forget we were man and wife, or say it doesn't matter anymore. We had some good times.”

She lowered her gaze for the first time and said resolutely, “We no longer have any hold over each other.”

36
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Muhammad Anwar slipped into the house when Raifa was out. He confronted Zahira impatiently. “I know I shouldn't be here, but I'd risk anything for you. Come with me now and we'll get married.”

“What makes you so sure I want to marry you?” she demanded haughtily.

“I love you, Zahira,” he declared humbly.

“So why are you asking me to run away like a thief?”

“There's no other way. Madame Raifa would never agree.”

“Have you discussed it with her?” she asked in astonishment.

He hung his head sorrowfully. “She's stubborn and arrogant.”

Cut to the quick, she said proudly, “I'm a Nagi!”

“She's stubborn and arrogant. She ordered me to stop visiting her—I was born in this house!”

A wave of anger rushed over her. “I'll come with you straightaway,” she said.

37
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Zahira married Muhammad Anwar, the caviar merchant. Raifa was furious and accused her of malice and treachery. The news took the alley by surprise. People talked of nothing else; words like good luck, destiny, the marvels of love, were bandied about. Zahira took Galal with her and Muhammad welcomed him, thinking himself the happiest of God's creatures.

For the first time Zahira was mistress in her own home, a richly furnished flat with many rooms, and a bathroom and a kitchen and a storage tank, which was replenished daily by the water carrier. She had dresses, rich wraps, gold-embroidered veils, necklaces, earrings, gold bangles, and silver anklets.

Her table was laden with delicious food, almost as good as the food served by Aziza and Raifa. She ran the household and was its cook at the same time.

Scarcely a month had gone by before she decided to break free and come out of seclusion, going to visit her mother or a neighbor or al-Husayn mosque. People saw her in her finery and muttered admiringly to themselves.

38
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Married to Zahira, Muhammad Anwar was happy beyond his wildest dreams. He made no secret of his love and passionate devotion, and indulged her without restraint. From the beginning he was uneasy at her going out and exposing her dazzling beauty to all and sundry. Very tactfully he let her know how he felt, but she was visibly irritated and he quickly backed down and went to even greater lengths to please her. He discovered he could put up with anything but seeing her angry or miserable. He knew he was weak where she was concerned, that he was flying in the face of traditional advice, but he submitted readily, not allowing himself even to contemplate resistance, and yet fully aware that he was at the mercy of love's whims and caprices.

A terrifying feeling haunted him, like a monster from a fairy tale, that he did not yet fully possess his darling and perhaps never would, that she would always elude his grasp. It was the sickly feeling of defeat. He invented excuses, sought comfort in his illusions, and smothered his bitterness with gifts and sweet words. He was love's slave, valued for what was in his hand rather than for his heart or his body. The red of sunset and the red of dawn were all the same to him, so he lost nothing by acting gentle and sweet to win a smile from the parted rosy lips, a glance from the dark eyes, a satisfied toss of the graceful head.

39
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One day Zahira visited her benefactress Aziza. “I was forced by circumstance to live in someone else's house, but my heart is loyal,” she assured her, kissing her hand.

Aziza was gladdened by her words. She brushed her cheek with her lips, made her sit down beside her, and treated her as an
equal. A warm gust of happiness and pride filled her. They drank cinnamon tea and ate almonds and slices of watermelon. Aziza asked how she was, inquired about her husband and Galal. Then Ulfat came to greet her.

“Your beauty has found its reward, and beauty is the key to many different worlds,” Aziza told her.

“No. It's your prayers and kindness, madame,” answered Zahira.

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“Won't you visit Raifa too?” was Muhammad Anwar's comment when Zahira returned.

“That arrogant woman! To hell with her!” retorted Zahira, almost choking with annoyance.

“She'll go crazy!”

“Let her.”

“There's no telling what she'll do,” he muttered anxiously.

“What kind of a man are you?” she teased with a mocking glance from under lowered lids.

His heart sank and he was silent.

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That afternoon the alley witnessed an unforgettable scene.

Zahira was promenading along in her fine clothes when Raifa's carriage stopped beside her. Raifa's head poked out and her voice could be heard, reproachful, but with a touch of affection in it: “Zahira!”

Zahira turned in confusion.

“Traitor!” said Raifa.

Zahira had no choice but to approach her, holding out her hand, in full view of the numerous bystanders, including Gibril al-Fas, Khalil al-Dahshan, and Abd Rabbihi the baker.

“When are you coming to visit me?” demanded Raifa.

“As soon as I can,” answered Zahira, her confusion mounting.
“The only thing stopping me was…” She tailed off in embarrassment.

Suddenly hostile and aggressive, Raifa said, “I'd be happy to welcome my faithful servant.”

At once Zahira's anger blazed. “I'm the same as you now!” she shouted.

She rushed off, blinded by emotion.

42
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Abd Rabbihi was getting drunk in the bar while the March winds raged outside.

“Yesterday I had a strange dream,” he said.

Nobody asked him what he had dreamed, but he went on anyway. “I dreamed the khamsin winds blew at the wrong time of the year.”

“A diabolical dream!” laughed Sanqar al-Shammam.

“Doors came off their hinges, dust fell like rain, hand barrows flew through the air, turbans and headcloths blew away.”

“What happened to you?”

“I felt as if I was dancing on the back of a Thoroughbred stallion!”

“Tuck the cover tightly around your arse before you go to sleep!” advised Sanqar.

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Muhammad Anwar felt fear creeping over him. Dangerous ghosts danced in the corners of his constricted world. Was he going to suffer the same fate as the baker Abd Rabbihi? He began stealing glances at Zahira's face, gathering his resolve. At last he managed to speak. “You're four months pregnant, Zahira. It's better for you to stay indoors.”

“I'm not helpless yet,” she answered scornfully.

He turned to Galal and started playing with him to soften the
impact of his words. “You've challenged a power that isn't to be trifled with. It would be prudent for us to lie low.”

“It's as if you're scared,” she said frostily.

“Not at all. I just want to safeguard our happiness,” he said, trying to hide his irritation.

“I've got every right to go out.”

“The truth is, I'm not happy about it.”

“The truth is, I can't bear what you're trying to make me do.”

“But I'm your husband.”

“Does that mean you can trample me underfoot?”

“God forbid! But I have undeniable rights.”

A scowl appeared on her face, clouding her beauty. “No,” she said fiercely.

He hesitated, uncertain whether to persist or say nothing, but he felt her scorn and was provoked to repeat angrily, “I have my rights.”

“Your rights are giving me a headache.”

“You owe me obedience,” he burst out with unaccustomed heat.

She stared at him in astonishment.

His fury mounted. “Complete obedience,” he repeated.

Zahira's features set hard in an expression of refusal and the atmosphere was thoroughly spoiled.

44
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Muhammad Anwar drew courage from his despair. In his heart he was afraid of losing her, and so when he saw her emerging into the street from his shop, he abandoned his composure and rushed to block her path.