Kirsha's mouth opened wide in amazement, his thick lips exploding to reveal his gold teeth. 'What did you say?' he asked.
Scowling, Hussain made no reply. His father went on: 'Galman? What's that? A new type of hashish?'
'I mean a neat, clean person,' he muttered.
'But you are dirty, so how can you expect to be clean… Oh, galman!'
Hussain was now thoroughly annoyed and replied emotionally, 'Father, I wish to live a new life. That is all there is to it. I want to marry a respectable girl!'
'The daughter of a galman!'
'A girl with respectable parents.'
'Why don't you marry the daughter of a dog like your father did?'
'May God have mercy on you! My father was a learned, pious man,' said Mrs. Kirsha, groaning in disgust.
Kirsha turned his pale face toward her and commented, 'A pious, learned man indeed! He recited the Qur'an at burials! Why, he would recite a whole chapter for a penny!'
'He knew the Qur'an by heart and that's all that counts!' she declared, pretending to be offended.
Kirsha now turned away from her and moved several steps toward his son, until they were only an arm's length apart. Kirsha said, in his terrifying voice, 'Well, we have had enough talking and I can't waste any more time on two lunatics. Do you really want to leave home?'
'Yes,' answered Hussain shortly, summoning all his courage.
Kirsha stood looking at him. Then he suddenly flew into a rage and slapped Hussain hard in the face with the palm of his hand. His son caught the heavy blow and it shocked and enraged him. He backed away, shouting, 'Don't you hit me! Don't you touch me! You'll never see me after today!'
His father charged again, but his mother stood between them, taking the blows herself. Kirsha stopped striking out and yelled, 'Take your black face away from me! Never come back here again. As far as I'm concerned, you have died and gone to hell!'
Hussain went to his room, took his bundle, and, with one jump, was down the stairs. Taking no notice of anything, he rushed through the alley and, before he passed into Sanadiqiya Street, he spat violently. His voice quivering in anger, he yelled, 'Bah! God curse the alley and all who live in it.'
15
Mrs. Saniya Afify heard a knock on the door. She opened it and discovered, with indescribable pleasure, Umm Hamida's pock-marked face before her.
'Welcome, welcome to my dearest friend!' she cried as though from the bottom of her heart.
They embraced affectionately, or at least so it seemed, and Mrs. Afify led her guest into her living room and told the servant to make coffee. They sat side by side on a sofa, and the hostess took out two cigarettes from her case, which they lit and sat pleasurably smoking.
Mrs. Afify had suffered the pangs of waiting ever since Umm Hamida promised to try to find a husband for her. It was surprising that, having lived patiently for many years as a widow, she could now scarcely bear this period of waiting, short though it was. Throughout the interval, she had made frequent visits to the marriage brokers. The latter had never stopped making her promises and raising her hopes. Eventually she became sure the woman was deliberately delaying in order to extract a reward larger than that agreed upon. Despite this, Mrs. Afify had been most generous and kind toward her, letting her off paying rent for her flat, giving her several of her own kerosene coupons, as well as her clothing ration, not to mention a dish of sweets she had commissioned Uncle Kamil to make for her.
Then the woman had announced her daughter Hamida's engagement to Abbas! Mrs. Afify had done her best to appear delighted, although in fact the news had disturbed her greatly. Would she have to help equip the girl for her marriage before she could arrange her own trousseau? So it was that during the whole period she was apprehensive about Umm Hamida and yet tried always to be as friendly as possible to her.
She now sat at her side, stealing a glance at her from time to time, wondering what this visit would bring and whether it would be just more promises and high hopes or the good news she yearned to hear. Mrs. Afify did her best to hide her anxiety by keeping the conversation going, and so it was she, contrary to normal, who did most of the talking while Umm Hamida listened. She gossiped about Kirsha's scandal and his son's leaving home and criticized the disgraceful conduct of Mrs. Kirsha in trying to reform the lascivious habits of her husband. Then she drew the conversation around to Abbas and praised him highly. 'He really is a nice young man. I'm sure God will be good to him and allow him to provide a happy life for his bride, who is worthy of nothing but the best.'
Umm Hamida smiled at this and replied, 'First things first! I've come to see you today to tell you of your engagement, my bride!'
Mrs. Afify's heart raced as she remembered how she had sensed that today's visit might be decisive. Her face reddened as its fading pulse quickened with a new youthfulness. However, she managed to restrain herself and said in mock bashfulness, 'What a shameful thing to say! What can you be thinking of, Umm Hamida!'
'I told you, madam, that I have come to tell you of your engagement,' her visitor reiterated, smiling in triumphant delight.
'Really! Oh, what a thing to happen! Yes, I do remember what we agreed on, but I can't help feeling very upset and even ashamed about it. Oh, what a shameful thing!'
Umm Hamida joined in the acting and protested vigorously, 'God forbid that you should feel ashamed about something in no way wrong or sinful. You are going to get married in accordance with God's law and the practice of the Prophet.'
Mrs. Afify let out a sigh, like someone yielding gracefully against her will; what her visitor said about marriage had a delightful ring to her ears.
Umm Hamida took a deep puff from her cigarette, shook her head in confidence and satisfaction, and said, 'A civil servant…'
Mrs. Afify was amazed. She gazed in complete disbelief at her visitor. A civil servant! Civil servants were rare fruits in Midaq Alley. Quizzically, she asked, 'A civil servant?'
'Yes, that's right, a civil servant!'
'In the government?'
'In the government!'
Umm Hamida was silent a moment, enjoying the hour of victory. Then she went on: 'In the government and, what's more, in the police department itself!'
'What sort of men are there in the department besides policemen and officers?' she now asked, even more surprised.
Umm Hamida looked at her with all the superiority of knowledge over ignorance and pointed out, 'They have civil servants too. You ask me! I know the government and the jobs there, and all the ranks and salaries, too. Why, that's my job, Mrs. Afify!'
'He must wear a suit, too!' exclaimed the widow, her surprise mixed with unbelievable delight.
'He wears jacket, trousers, a tarboosh, and shoes!'
'May God reward you for your great worth.'
'I choose good for good and make a point of knowing people's value. If he had been in anything lower than the ninth grade, I would not have chosen him at all.'
'The ninth grade?' asked Mrs. Afify, somewhat querulously.
'The government consists of grades. Each civil servant has a grade. The ninth is one of those grades. His is a grade. But it's not like all the other grades, oh no, my dear!'
'You really are a fine dear friend to me!' said Mrs Afify, her eyes shining with delight.
Umm Hamida expanded, her voice ringing with victory and confidence. 'He sits at a big desk piled almost to the roof with folders and papers. Coffee is forever coming in and going out, with visitors seeking his help and asking him questions. He sits there and rebukes some and curses others. Policemen are always coming in to greet him, and all officers respect him…'
