'We are all clay,' Zaita replied, shrugging his shoulders.
'Shame on you! You're just dirt on dirt, filth piled on filth, and that's why you're only fit to disfigure people. You love to draw other people down to your own filthy level.'
Zaita merely chuckled at this and his hopes increased. 'But I am the best of people, not the worst,' he said. 'Don't you realize that regular beggars don't earn a penny, whereas if I give them a deformity they can earn their weight in gold. It's a man's worth, not his appearance, that counts. Now as for our friend Jaada, why he's neither handsome nor worth anything.'
'Are you going back to that again?' demanded Husniya threateningly.
Zaita thought it best to abandon the subject he had deliberately broached. He went on in the tone of a public speaker.
'And apart from that, all my customers are professional beggars. What would you have me do with them? Would you like me to pretty them up and set them loose in the streets at the mercy of their 'well-wishers'?'
'You're a real devil! You talk like one and look like one, too.'
Zaita sighed audibly and as though meekly seeking sympathy said, 'Nevertheless, I was once upon a time a king.'
'A king of devils?' she asked.
In the same tone of humility Zaita replied, 'No, of mankind. Which of us is not at first welcomed into the world like a king of kings, to be later carried wherever ill fortune decrees. This is one of nature's wisest treacheries. Were it to show us first what is in store for us, we would all refuse to leave the womb.'
'What next, you son of a whore!'
Zaita continued, his self-assurance unwavering: 'And so I, too, was once a happy creature whom loving hands coddled and enfolded with tender care. Do you doubt that I was once a king?'
'Not for a moment, master!' Her tone was now sarcastic.
Intoxicated by the power of his oratory and filled with anticipation, Zaita went on: 'Moreover, my birth was considered a most fortunate blessing. My parents were both professional beggars. They hired a baby, which my mother carried on their rounds, and when God gave them me, they had no need for other people's children. So they were delighted.'
At this, Husniya burst into a resounding laugh. This increased Zaita's confidence and desire and he continued: 'Oh, what memories I have of my happy childhood! I still remember my resting place on the sidewalk. I would crawl on all fours until I reached the street curb. I'd rest at a spot where there was a mudhole. All kinds of scum and insects floated on its surface. It was a beautiful sight! The water was full of garbage and its shores consisted of rubbish of all colors — tomato skins, fruit stains, beans, filth, and flies floating all around it and falling in. I would lift my eyelids, weighted down with flies, and I'd wallow about in that delightful summer resort. I was the happiest person alive…'
'Oh, how lucky you were,' commented Husniya sarcastically.
Her pleasure and the way she listened delighted him, and he went on, even more encouraged: 'This is the secret of my love for what you call filth. Man is capable of growing fond of anything, no matter how strange. That's why I'm afraid for you, getting attached to that animal.'
'Must we talk of that again?'
'Why not? Man has no reason to disregard what is right.'
'It's obvious that you've given up this world.'
'I once tasted peace and mercy, as I told you, in the cradle.' Then he made a gesture with his hand toward his room and he went on: 'And my heart tells me that I may have another joy to taste, in that room of mine.' He nodded toward it with a sly wink.
Husniya seethed at his impertinence. She leaned over and roared in his face, 'Watch out, you bastard, you!'
'How can you expect a bastard to guard against the natural sins of his unknown father?' he asked, trembling.
'And if I were to break your neck?'
'Who knows — perhaps that would be delightful too.'
He got up suddenly and walked back a bit. He felt he had what he wanted and that Husniya would do as he wished. A fit of violent passion gripped him, and he drew off his filthy cloak and stood quite naked. For several moments Husniya remained dumbfounded. Then she seized a heavy mug lying nearby and hurled it at him as violently as she could. It struck him in the stomach and, letting out a bellowing howl, he fell to the floor, writhing in pain.
17
Salim Alwan was sitting as usual at his desk one day when Umm Hamida came in to buy some things. He always made a point of welcoming her, but on this occasion his normal formal politeness was not enough. He invited her to sit in an armchair near him and sent one of his employees to buy the perfume she wanted. His kindness delighted Umm Hamida and she thanked him and blessed him profusely. If the truth were known this kindness was not particularly spontaneous, for Mr. Alwan had made an unalterable decision.
It is, after all, difficult for a man to have to live with his mind in a constant turmoil of indecision. It disturbed him deeply to see his whole life clouded with problems that he could not solve. He was well aware, too, of the distress this caused his sons. Yet he had no idea how to use his accumulated wealth, especially since the gossips said its cash value was likely to drop after the war. As for the matter of his title, whenever he managed to dismiss the matter, it kept coming back like an abscess. Another worry was his relationship with his wife and his fear that his youth and vitality were vanishing. Last but not least of his concerns was this emotion and desire of his which caused him so much anguish.
Now he realized the time had come when he must solve at least one of his problems, although he still could not decide which one. Eventually he decided he would settle the one that consumed him the most. He believed that when that one was settled, the other worries would also come to an end.
However, he was not unaware of the consequences. He knew that once he solved that problem, no less dangerous ones could emerge. Yet this was purely a matter of passion. The difficulties which stood in the way of his dreams now seemed trivial and he firmly told himself, 'My wife has ceased her life as a woman and I am not the sort to enter into adultery at my age. Nevertheless, why should I be punished? Allah made things easy, why should we make them difficult?'
Thus he had made up his mind to satisfy his desires and there was no retreat. So it was that he had invited Umm Hamida to come and sit near him so that he could broach the vital matter to her. Mr. Alwan was still a bit apprehensive of speaking out, not because he felt any indecision or hesitancy, but because it was not easy to descend in one jump from his high position and suddenly bare his soul to a woman like Umm Hamida.
At that moment one of his employees entered carrying his famous green wheat and pigeon concoction on a tray. Umm Hamida saw it and a faint smile flickered across her lips, which he did not fail to notice. Alwan seized his opportunity and opened the conversation by speaking of the bowl. He tried to forget his dignity and revered position, and said to her in a slightly hurt tone, 'No doubt this bowl of mine offends you?'
Umm Hamida was afraid that he had seen her smile and she replied hastily, 'Heaven forbid! Why should you think that?'
In the same tone, Alwan went on: 'It does cause me a lot of trouble…'
'Why should you say that?' asked Umm Hamida, having no idea what he meant.
Alwan, conscious that he was talking to a professional matchmaker, said quietly, 'My wife doesn't approve of it…'
Umm Hamida was astonished at this and she recalled how all Midaq Alley was at one time wild for a bit of this food. So Alwan's wife was too puritanical, was she, and didn't approve of it? She repeated to herself the saying 'People with fine voices often have no ears to enjoy their singing.' Smiling, she muttered, quite unabashed, 'That's very strange!'
Alwan shook his head in sad agreement. His wife had never approved of his eating this food, even when she
