for his gullibility, would believe the story. They praised the thoughtfulness and generosity of Abbas and said that what he had done was a worthy deed and one most appropriate toward the man he liked so well and with whom he shared a flat and indeed his life, just as if they were of the same flesh and blood. Even Radwan Hussainy smiled delightedly, and Uncle Kamil gazed at his friend in innocent amazement and asked, 'Is it true what you said, Abbas?'
Dr. Booshy replied for him, saying, 'Don't doubt it for a minute, Uncle Kamil. I can vouch for what your friend says and I have seen the shroud with my own eyes. It's a very fine one indeed and I would be delighted to have one just like it.'
Sheikh Darwish moved for the third time and said, 'Good luck to you! Shrouds are the veils of the afterlife. Enjoy your shroud, Uncle Kamil, before it enjoys you! You will be wholesome food for the worms. The reptiles will feed off your tender flesh as though it were a sweet. Why, the worms will grow so fat they will be like _dafaadi.__ The meaning of this word in English is 'frogs' and it is spelled f-r-o-g-s.'
Uncle Kamil believed all now and he asked Abbas what type of shroud it was, its color and size. Then he invoked a long blessing on his friend, smiled broadly, and gave praise to God. Just then the voice of a young man entering from the street was heard to say, 'Good evening.'
He passed by on his way to Radwan Hussainy's house. Hussain Kirsha was the son of the cafe owner. He was in his twenties and had the near-black skin of his father. Hussain was slight of build, however, and his delicate features indicated his youth, fitness, and vitality. Dressed in a blue woolen shirt, khaki trousers, a hat, and heavy boots, he had the satisfied, well-off look of all those who worked with the British Army. This was the usual time for him to return home from the camp. Many men in the cafe stared after him in both admiration and envy. His friend Abbas invited him into the cafe but he thanked him and moved on.
Darkness now completely enveloped the street and the only light came from lanterns in the cafe; they drew a square of light which was reflected on the ground and extended up the walls of the office. The lights which had shone dimly from behind the window shutters of the street's two houses disappeared one after the other. The men in the cafe were all playing dominoes or cards, except for Sheikh Darwish, quite lost in his usual stupor, and Uncle Kamil, who had laid his head on his chest and sunk into a deep sleep. Sanker, the waiter, was as busy as ever, bringing orders and putting money tokens into the till. Kirsha, the cafe owner, followed him with his heavy eyes, enjoying the numbing stream from hashish flowing into his stomach and giving himself over to its delicious power. It was very late now and Radwan Hussainy left the cafe for his house. Dr. Booshy soon left for his flat on the first floor of the alley's second house. The next to leave were Abbas and Uncle Kamil.
The other seats began to empty too, until at midnight only three remained in the cafe; Kirsha, the young waiter Sanker, and Sheikh Darwish. Then another group of men arrived, all peers of the cafe owner, Kirsha, and they went with him up to a wooden hut built on the roof of Radwan Hussainy's house, where they sat around a lighted brazier. There they started a small party which would not end until the dawn gave enough light to distinguish 'a black from a white thread.'
Sanker the waiter now spoke gently to Sheikh Darwish, telling him that midnight had come. The old man looked up at the sound of his voice, took off his spectacles quietly, and polished them with a corner of his shirt. He then put them on again, straightened his necktie, and rose, placing his feet in his wooden clogs. He left the cafe without uttering a word, shattering the silence with the noise of his clogs striking the stones of the street. All was silent outside, the darkness heavy and the streets and alleys somber and empty. He let his feet lead him where they wished, for he had no home and no purpose. He walked off into the darkness.
In his youth, Sheikh Darwish had been a teacher in one of the religious foundation schools. He had, moreover, been a teacher of the English language. He had been known for his energetic diligence; and fortune, too, had been good to him and he had been the head of a happy family. When the religious foundation schools merged with the Ministry of Education, his position changed, as did that of many of his associates, who, like him, lacked high qualifications. He became a clerk in the Ministry of Religious Endowments and went down from the sixth to the eighth grade, his salary adjusted accordingly. It was only natural that he was hurt by what happened to him and he began a continuous rebellion.
Occasionally he rebelled openly; at other times he felt defeated and concealed his rebellion. He had tried every method, issuing petitions, appealing to his superiors, and complaining about his poverty and the size of his family. All without success. At last he gave way to despair, his nerves almost in shreds. His case became famous in his ministry and he became notorious as a rebel, always complaining, extremely stubborn and obstinate, and very quick-tempered. Scarcely a day went by without his becoming involved in an argument or quarrel.
He was renowned for his self-assertive manner and defiance toward everyone. When a dispute flared up between him and another person, as often happened, he would address his adversary in English. If the man should complain at his using a foreign language unnecessarily, Darwish would shout in great scorn, 'Go off and learn something before you argue with me!'
Eventually reports of his bad disposition reached his superiors, but they were always lenient out of sympathy and out of fear of his temper. Therefore he was able to carry on without severe consequences, except for a few warnings and the loss of one or two days' salary. As time went on, however, his blustering egotism increased. One day he decided to write all his official correspondence in English. His explanation for this was that he was an artistic man, not like the other clerks.
He now neglected his work to such a degree that his supervisor decided to deal with him in a firm and severe manner. Fate, however, was quicker than the supervisor, for he insisted on seeing the Deputy Minister himself. Darwish 'Effendi,' as he was then still known, entered the Deputy Minister's office looking very serious and respectful, greeted him in a man-to-man fashion, and addressed him in a manner filled with confidence and self assurance.
'God has chosen his man, sir!'
The Deputy Minister asked him to explain what he meant and Darwish continued respectfully and with dignity: 'I am a messenger to you from God and I bring you a new mission!'
Thus his career at the ministry ended, as did his connections with friends and relations who had been close to him. He deserted his family, friends, and acquaintances and wandered off into the world of God, as it is called. The only memento he now had of his past life were his gold-rimmed spectacles. He had passed into his new life without a friend, money, or a home. His life showed that some people can live in this world, festering as it is with its bitter troubles, without either home, money, or friends, and know neither worry, grief, nor need. Never for a day did he hunger; he never went without clothing, nor was he ever driven away.
He had moved into a state of peace, contentment, and beatitude such as he had never known before. Even though he had lost his house, the whole world had become his home. Even though he had lost his salary, gone, too, was his dependence on money. Though he had lost his own family and friends, everyone he met became his family. If his gown wore out, someone would bring him a new one; if his tie became ragged, someone brought him a new one of those too. Everywhere he went people made him welcome and even Kirsha, despite his apparent absentmindedness, would miss him if he should be absent for a day from the cafe. He could not, despite what simple folk said, perform miracles or predict the future. He was either distracted and silent or extremely talkative without ever knowing particularly what he was saying.
He was loved and honored, and everyone always welcomed his presence among them as a good sign and said that he was a fine and holy man of God, to whom revelation came in two languages, Arabic and English!
2
She gazed into the mirror with uncritical eyes, or rather with eyes gleaming with delight. The mirror reflected a long, thin face; cosmetics had indeed done wonders with her eyelashes, eyebrows, eyes, and lips. She turned her face to the right and to the left while her fingers stroked the plaits of her hair. She muttered almost inaudibly, 'Not bad. Very nice. Yes, by God, very nice!' The fact was, her face had gazed upon the world for close to fifty years and nature never leaves a face unharmed for over half a century. The body was slim, even thin, as the women of the alley described it, and her bust meager, although her nice dress hid it from sight.
