in everything. Thus for him the mandatory prayer became a spiritual pilgrimage in which he traversed the expansive realms of the Master. Even after he had finished praying he would sit cross-legged with palms outstretched and implore God to watch over him carefully, forgive him, and bless his offspring and business.
When the mother had finished preparing the food for breakfast, she allowed the girls to arrange it on the tray. She went to the brothers' room, where she discovered Kamal still sound asleep. Smiling, she approached him and placed the palm of her hand on his forehead to recite the opening prayer of the Qur'an. Then she began calling him, shaking him gently. She did not leave him until he was out of bed. Fahmy came in. Seeing her there, he smiled and wished her good morning. She responded, with a look of love sparkling in her eyes, 'Light of my eyes, may your morning be bright'.
She greeted her stepson Yasin with the same tenderness. He replied with the affection due a woman who was like a real mother to him.
When Khadija returned from the oven room, Fahmy and Yasin, particularly Yasin, greeted her with some of the taunts they often used against her. Their jests were aimed at her disagreeable appearance or her sharp tongue. Nevertheless, she exerted considerable influence over the two brothers, since she looked after their concerns with an outstanding skill seldom volunteered by Aisha, who shone in the family as the beautiful but useless personification of good looks and charm.
Yasin accosted Khadija: 'We were talking about you. We were saying that if every woman looked like you, men would be spared all heartaches'.
She shot back, 'And if all men were like you, they would never get headaches from thinking'.
At that their mother called out, 'Breakfast is ready, gentlemen'.
4
The dining room was on the top floor along with the parents' bedroom. On this story were also located a sitting room and a fourth chamber, which was empty except for a few toys Kamal played with when he had time.
The cloth had been spread on the low table and the cushions arranged around it. The head of the household came and sat down cross-legged in the principal place, The three brothers filed in. Yasin sat on his father’s right, Fahmy at his left, and Kamal opposite him. The brothers took their places politely and deferentially, with their heads bowed as though at Friday prayers. There was no distinction in this between the secretary from al-Nahhasin School, the law student, and the pupil from Khalil Agha. No one dared look directly at their father’s face. When they were in his presence they would not even look at each other, for fear of being overcome by a smile. The guilty party would expose himself to a dreadful scolding.
Breakfast was the only time of-day they were together with their father. When they came home in the afternoon, he would already have left for his shop after taking his lunch and a nap. He would not return again until after midnight. Sitting with him, even for such a short period, was extremely taxing for them. They were forced to observe military discipline all the time. Their fear itself made them more nervous and prone to the very errors they were trying so hard to avoid. The meal, moreover, was consumed in an atmosphere that kept them from relishing or enjoying the food. It was common for their father to inspect the boys during the short interval before the mother brought the tray of food. He examined them with a critical eye until he could discover some failing, however trivial, in a son’s appearance or a spot on his clothes. Then a torrent of censure and abuse would pour forth.
He might ask Kamal gruffly, 'Have you washed your hands?' If Kamal answered in the affirmative, he would order him, 'Show me!' Terrified, the boy would spread his palms out. Instead of commending him for cleanliness, the father would threaten him. 'If you ever forget to wash them before eating, I'll cut them off to spare you the trouble of looking after them'. Sometimes he would ask Fahmy, 'Is that son of a bitch studying his lessons or not?' Fahmy knew whom he meant, for 'son of a bitch' was the epithet their father reserved for Kamal.
Fahmy’s answer was that Kamal memorized his lessons very well. The truth was that the boy had to be clever to escape his father’s fury. His quick mind spared him the need to be serious and diligent, although his superior achievement implied he was both. The father demanded blind obedience from his sons, and that was hard to bear for a boy who loved playing more than eating.
Remembering Kamal’s playfulness, al-Sayyid Ahmad commented angrily, 'Manners are better than learning'. Then turning toward Kamal, he continued sharply: 'Hear that, you son of a bitch'.
The mother carried in the large tray of food and placed it on the cloth. She withdrew to the side of the room near a table on which stood a water jug. She waited there, ready to obey any command. In the center of the gleaming copper tray was a large oval dish filled with fried beans and eggs. On one side hot loaves of flat bread were piled. On the other side were arranged small plates with cheese, pickled lemons and peppers, as well as salt and cayenne and black pepper. The brothers' bellies were aflame with hunger, but they restrained themselves and pretended not to see the delightful array, as though it meant nothing to them, until their father put out his hand to take a piece of bread. He split it open while muttering, 'Eat'. Their hands reached for the bread in order of seniority: Yasin, Fahmy, and then Kamal. They set about eating without forgetting their manners or reserve.
Their father devoured his food quickly and in great quantities as though his jaws were a mechanical shredding device working nonstop at full speed. He lumped together into one giant mouthful a wide selection of the available dishes-beans, eggs, cheese, pepper and lemon pickles-which he proceeded to pulverize with dispatch while his fingers prepared the next helping. His sons ate with deliberation and care, no matter what it cost them and how incompatible it was with their fiery temperaments. They were painfully aware of the severe remark or harsh look they would receive should one of them be remiss or weak and forget himself and thus neglect the obligatory patience and manners.
Kamal was the most uneasy, because he feared his father the most. The worst punishment either of his two brothers would receive was a rebuke or a scolding. The least he could expect was a kick or a slap. For this reason, he consumed his food cautiously and nervously, stealing a glance from time to time at what was left. The food’s quick disappearance added to his anxiety. He waited apprehensively for a sign that his father was finished eating. Then he would have a chance to fill his belly. Kamal knew that although his father devoured his food quickly, taking huge helpings selected from many different dishes, the ultimate threat to the food, and therefore to him, came from his two brothers. His father ate quickly and got full quickly. His two brothers only began the battle in earnest once their father left the table. They did not give up until the plates were empty of anything edible.
Therefore, no sooner had his father risen and departed than Kamal rolled up his sleeves and attacked the food like a madman. He employed both his hands, one for the large dish and the other for the small ones. All the same, his endeavor seemed futile, given his brothers' energetic efforts. So Kamal fell back on a trick he resorted to when his welfare was threatened in circumstances like these. He deliberately sneezed on the food. His two brothers recoiled, looking at him furiously, but left the table, convulsed with laughter. Kamal’s dream for the morning was realized. He found himself alone at the table.
The father returned to his room after washing his hands. Amina followed him there, bringing a cup containing three raw eggs mixed with a little milk, which she handed to him. After swallowing the concoction, he sat down to sip his morning coffee. The rich egg drink was the finale of his breakfast. It was one of a number of tonics he used regularly after meals or between them-like cod-liver oil and sugared walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts-to safeguard the health of his huge body. They helped compensate for the wear and tear occasioned by his passions. He also limited his diet to meat and varieties of foods known for their richness. Indeed, he scorned light and even normal meals as a waste of time not befitting a man of his stature.
Hashish had been prescribed for him to stimulate his appetite, in addition to its other benefits. Although he had tried it, he had never been comfortable with it and had abandoned it without regret. He disliked it because it induced in him a stupor, both somber and still, and a predisposition toward silence as well as a feeling of isolation even when he was with his best friends. He disliked these symptoms that were in rude contrast to his normal disposition aflame with youthful outbursts of mirth, elated excitement, intimate delights, and bouts of jesting and laughter. For fear of losing the qualities required of an exceptionally virile lover, he dosed himself with an expensive narcotic for which Muhammad Ajami, the couscous vendor by the facade of the seminary of al-Salih Ayyub in the vicinity of the Goldsmiths Bazaar, was renowned. The vendor prepared it as a special favor for his most honored clients among the merchants and notables. Al-Sayyid Ahmad was not addicted to the drug, but would take some
