Ibrahim Meguid - No One Sleeps in Alexandria

“Don’t be afraid, Zahra. Tirsa blood is very nourishing and fattening.”

“What’s tirsa?”

“It’s a sea turtle. The fishermen bring it in and they slaughter it, cut up its flesh, and sell it by the kilo. People also drink its blood — it’s the cheapest kind of sea food.”

Zahra saw the other kinds of fish that looked more splendid than what she’d seen on her last visit. She kept trying to remember their names and asked about the ones she did not know. She also noticed more kinds than before. She saw red shrimp; orange crabs; silver sea bream; speckled red snapper; white mullet; white and red grouper; silver sea bass; long, white swordfish; fish that looked like fat little white bananas; long, strong green eels; dark red mullet, dark gray, almost oval fish; fish that looked like sweet potatoes; and white and black and silvery-white sardines — all displayed on dozens of wooden tables with crowds of women around them. Sardines were a very cheap fish, now in season, and many women bought large quantities to salt and use during the winter. The day before, Zahra had bought crabs, shrimp, and eels, more than a kilo of every kind. She spent a whole half-pound note from the ten pounds that her mother had given her. She also bought five kilos of sardines to salt. What made her splurge so much when she knew that her husband’s salary was no more than three pounds a month? Undoubtedly it was the ten pounds that her mother had given her, but one more certain reason was that she had weaned her daughter the day before and she knew that one did not get pregnant while nursing — she knew that from her mother. Today she was going to become pregnant, she told herself. Her body shook and was shaking now, as she lay awake on the bed. Could a woman know that she was becoming pregnant as it was happening? Maybe. She felt that last night; she felt a little thing inside her attach itself to some other little thing. She felt an inner tension inside, ending in a profound calm coursing through her blood. Magd al-Din would be happy with her since she was going to bear him a son this time. He never expressed a preference of sons over daughters, but he grew up like all peasants, and perhaps like all men, preferring and hoping for male offspring. She was going to give him that, and this big white city, which accommodated all these people from all over the world without complaining, would help her.

No sooner had Magd al-Din finished his lunch, which he usually had late, after returning from work, than a loud woman’s scream was heard from downstairs.

“It was Lula, that was her voice!” exclaimed Zahra. “I know her voice.”

When another scream was heard quickly after the first one, Zahra went out of the room and met Sitt Maryam in the hallway. As the screams continued, Sitt Maryam went downstairs ahead of Zahra, who quickly followed with Camilla and Yvonne. After a moment, Sitt Maryam and Zahra were calling out to the exhausted Magd al-Din, since Khawaga Dimitri had not come home yet. Magd al-Din put on his gallabiya, to be ready for any development; he had eaten his lunch while in his underwear.

On his way downstairs, Magd al-Din saw Camilla and Yvonne coming up. They said nothing to him because they were hurrying. He heard men’s voices at the foot of the stairs and the sounds of a large crowd standing in the street in front of the house. He heard Lula in her room screaming, “Have pity! Have pity!” Sitt Maryam and Zahra were standing in front of the door.

“What’s happening?” Magd al-Din asked, and they did not answer but motioned him to enter the room. As soon as he did he closed his eyes. Lula was wearing a sheer white slip, almost naked. True, her hair was disheveled and her eyes swollen from crying, but, in the final analysis, she was an almost-naked woman. As soon as Lula saw him, she collapsed at his feet and held on to one of his legs and said, “Please, Sheikh Magd al-Din, I kiss your foot,”—and she actually did, since he was barefoot—”protect me, protect me from those sons of bitches.”

She said the last sentence in anguish. He looked at the men standing in the room: her husband, a policeman, and a thin, sickly man. Zahra and Sitt Maryam had come close to the door, and Magd al-Din asked them to bring something to cover the lady’s nakedness. But the policeman said, “No,” and the thin man added, “She must come as she is.”

“What’s the story, exactly?” Magd al-Din inquired as Lula crouched on the floor next to his feet, quietly crying now.

“This man is not her husband — this man is,” the policeman said, pointing to the thin man. Zahra had gone upstairs and brought down a white shawl that she placed on Lula’s shoulders. As soon as she heard what the policeman said, she went out, terrified, and stood shaking by Sitt Maryam.

“Is that true, Sitt…?” Magd al-Din asked, and he could not utter her name.

“You sons of bitches!” Lula screamed.

There were two policemen at the door of the house to prevent the angry mob from entering. The thin man rushed to Lula, trying to lift her up to go with them, while her lover stood there, his mouth agape, seemingly in total disregard of the situation. Lula got up and started to go with them. Magd al-Din yelled at the policeman to wait. He looked at Lula’s lover and asked the policeman, “Why don’t you drag this lout to the police station?’

“He’ll come with us as a witness to the crime of adultery.”

“There is no power or strength save in God,” said Magd al-Din sarcastically. “Is the crime of adultery committed by the woman alone?”

“That’s the law.”

Magd al-Din could not help moving forward and, as hard as he could, he slapped the lover, who, to everyone’s surprise, did not resist, or protest, or slap Magd al-Din back.

Lula saw the big crowd outside the door and gripped the wooden banister. “They’re going to kill me. Sheikh Magd al-Din. Please help me, may God help you!”

The thin man, her real husband, began to pull her and try to pry her hands loose from the banister, but he could not. The shawl that was covering her fell to the floor, and she left the banister and turned to the thin man and screamed at him, “It’s all your fault, you son of a bitch!”

Then she hit him in the chest as hard as she could. He reeled back, hit the wall, and fell to the floor. She turned to the policeman to hit him too, but he had pulled his gun and was aiming it at her. Frightened, she backed away and collapsed on the floor crying.

“Please, let’s wait and solve this problem calmly,” said Magd al-Din, who was thinking of the mob outside, which might actually kill her. Then he addressed Lula’s real husband, “Take your wife and divorce her before a marriage official, away from the police. If you leave it to the police, they’ll divorce her from you, but they’ll also put her in jail. What good will that do you? Leave her be.”

The man did not answer. In the meantime, Lula had rushed into her room and quickly closed the door behind her. The policeman tried to break the door down, but Magd al-Din held him back.

“Where would she go? She’ll open it up in a little while.”

Her voice came from inside, “I’m coming out, you sons of bitches!”

The door opened and Lula appeared in a beautiful dress, looking at everyone defiantly, then quickly bent down and kissed Magd al-Din’s hand, crying all the while.

“Please don’t believe them, Sheikh Magd al-Din,” she said. She looked at Zahra and Sitt Maryam and said the same thing. Zahra was now crying, while Sitt Maryam was fighting her tears.

“Let’s go — to hell, if you like,” said Lula to the policeman.

It was obvious that once she was covered, after she had put on the dress, she feared nothing. It all seemed strange to Magd al-Din. How could she, an adulterous woman, be afraid to walk in the street in her slip, but now that she was covered, she was no longer afraid, even of death? He said to himself, “Who knows? Maybe this woman is as sinless and pure as a saint.”