some excuse behind which you were hiding yourself.'
The lady was pleased at this, but she was still determined to act the part of someone who might be ready to accept marriage but who had no clear intention or desire for marriage. After a little hesitation, she asked, 'Wouldn't it be wrong for me to get married now, after this long period of being unmarried?'
Umm Hamida said to herself, 'Then why, woman, did you come to talk to me?' But out loud she said, 'Why should it be wrong to do something both lawful and right? You are a respectable and sensible person, as everyone knows. Why, my dear, 'marriage is one half of religion.' Our Lord in His wisdom made it lawful and it was prescribed by the Prophet, peace and blessings upon Him!'
Mrs. Afify echoed piously, 'Peace and blessings upon him!'
'Why not, my dear? Both God and the Arab Prophet love the faithful!'
Mrs. Afify's face had grown red beneath its covering of rouge and her heart was filled with delight. She took out two cigarettes from her case and said, 'Who would want to marry me?'
Umm Hamida bent her forefinger and drew it to her forehead in a gesture of disbelief, saying, 'A thousand and one men!'
The lady laughed heartily and said, 'One man will suffice!'
Umm Hamida now declared with conviction, 'Deep down, all men like marriage and it's only married men who complain about marriage. What a lot of bachelors there are who want to get married. I have only to say to one of them, 'I have a bride for you,' and a look of interest comes into their eyes as they smile and ask in unconcealable passion, 'Really — who is it — who?' Men, even though they might be completely senile, always want women and this is part of the wisdom of our Lord.'
Mrs. Afify nodded her head happily in agreement and commented, 'Glory be to His wisdom!'
'Yes, Mrs. Afify, it was for that God created the world. It was within His power to fill it with men alone or women alone but He created male and female and gave us the intelligence to understand His wish. There is no avoiding marriage.'
Mrs. Saniya Afify smiled again. 'Your words are as sweet as sugar, Umm Hamida.'
'May God sweeten your whole life and delight your heart with a perfect marriage.'
Now thoroughly encouraged, the visitor agreed. 'If God wishes and with your help.'
'I am, and thanks be to God, a very fortunate woman. Marriages I arrange never break up. How many of my couples have gone off and set up homes, produced children, and been very happy. Put your trust in God, and in me!'
'I will never be able to reward you enough with money.'
At this, however, Umm Hamida said to herself, 'Oh no you don't, my woman. You will have to reward me well enough with money and a great deal of it. We will go to the savings bank together, and you won't be stingy.' She then said out loud and in the serious, determined tone of a businessman who, having finished the preliminaries, was about to get down to the really important matters, 'I take it you would prefer a man well advanced in years?'
The widow did not know how to reply. She did not want to marry a youth who would be an unsuitable husband for her and yet she was not pleased at the expression 'well advanced in years.' The way the conversation had developed had made her feel a little more at ease with Umm Hamida and she was able to say, laughing to hide her embarrassment, 'What, 'break a fast by eating an onion'?'
Umm Hamida let out a raucous, throaty laugh, increasing in confidence that the deal she was about to make would be lucrative indeed. She went on drily: 'You are quite right, Mrs. Afify. The truth is that experience has shown me that the happiest marriages are those in which the wife is older than the husband. A man of thirty or just a little older would suit you well.'
Her visitor asked anxiously, 'Would one agree?'
'Certainly one would agree. You are good-looking and wealthy.'
'May you be safe from all evil!'
Her pockmarked face having taken on a serious and conscientious look, Umm Hamida then said, 'I will tell him you are a lady of middle age, with no children, no mother-in-law, well mannered and wholesome, and have two shops in Hamzawy and a two-story house in Midaq Alley.'
The lady smiled and said, to correct what she considered an error, 'No, the house has three stories.'
Umm Hamida, however, could not agree to this and said, 'Only two, because you are not going to take any rent for the third floor, where I am, for as long as I am alive!'
Mrs. Afify agreed happily. 'All right, I give my word, Umm Hamida.'
'Your word is taken then. May our Lord work things out for the best!'
Her visitor shook her head as though amazed and said, 'What an astonishing thing! I just came to visit you and look where our talk has got us. How has it happened that I am leaving you as good as married?'
Umm Hamida joined in her laughter as though she too was surprised, although she said under her breath, 'Shame on you, woman. Do you think your cunning has fooled me?' Out loud she commented, 'The will of our Lord, don't you think? Is not everything in His hands?'
And so Mrs. Saniya Afify returned to her own flat well pleased, although she thought to herself, 'Rent of the flat for the rest of her life! What a greedy woman she is!'
3
As soon as Mrs. Afify left the room, Hamida came in combing her black hair, which gave off a strong smell of kerosene. Her mother gazed at her dark and shining hair, the ends of which nearly reached to the girl's knees, and said sadly, 'What a pity! Imagine letting lice live in that lovely hair!'
The girl's black eyes, framed with mascara, flashed angrily and took on a determined and intent look. 'What lice? I swear by the Prophet that my comb found only two lice!'
'Have you forgotten that I combed your hair two weeks ago and squashed twenty lice for you?'
The girl answered indifferently, 'Well, I hadn't washed my hair for two months…'
She sat down at her mother's side and continued combing her hair vigorously.
Hamida was in her twenties, of medium stature and with a slim figure. Her skin was bronze-colored and her face a little elongated, unmarked, and pretty. Her most remarkable features were her black, beautiful eyes, the pupils and whites of which contrasted in a most striking and attractive way. When, however, she set her delicate lips and narrowed her eyes, she could take on an appearance of strength and determination which was most unfeminine. Her temper had always, even in Midaq Alley itself, been something no one could ignore.
Even her mother, famous for her roughness, did her best to avoid crossing her. One day when they had quarreled her mother cried out to her, 'God will never find you a husband; what man would want to embrace a burning firebrand like you?' On other occasions she had said that a real madness overcame her daughter when she got angry and she nicknamed her tempers the khamsin, after the vicious and unpredictable summer winds.
Despite all this, she was really very fond of Hamida, even though she was only her foster mother. The girl's real mother had been her partner in making and selling sweet and fattening potions. She was eventually compelled by her poverty to share Umm Hamida's flat in Midaq Alley and had died there, leaving her daughter still a baby. Umm Hamida had adopted her and placed her under the care of the wife of Kirsha, the cafe owner, who had suckled her along with her son Hussain Kirsha, who was therefore a sort of foster brother to the girl Hamida.
She went on combing her black hair, waiting for her mother to comment as usual on the visit and visitor. When the silence remained unbroken unusually long, she asked, 'It was a long visit. What were you talking about?'
Her mother laughed sardonically and murmured, 'Guess!'
The girl, now even more interested, asked, 'She wants to raise the rent?'
'If she had done that, she would have left here carried by ambulance men! No, she wants to lower the rent!'
'Have you gone mad?' Hamida exclaimed.
'Yes, I have gone mad. But guess…'
The girl sighed and said, 'You've tired me out!'
