Sonallah Ibrahim - Stealth

The hall goes dark. The film starts up again. The air inside is choking. Father takes off his coat. The movie ends and lights shine. His face is frowning. He wipes the sweat from his brow and forces his lips into a smile. We wait for the crowds pushing through the exit to disperse. He takes my hand in his strong grip. We go out into the street. He buys me a semolina cake from the sweet shop. We walk slowly. Our alley is drowned in darkness. The entrance to the house, too. I hang on to his coat. His arms wrap around me.

We wash for prayer together. He lays out a blanket over the floor. While holding on to a long string of prayer beads, he sits on the blanket cross-legged. A frown. He recites the invocation. He repeats it as he counts off the beads on the string. He calls it “the millennial” because it has a thousand beads. The sound of the Friday sermon comes from Um Zakiya’s radio. The sermon ends. I pray with him. The prayer is over, but he continues with a few extra bows. He tries to make sure I’m clean. He says I can’t go to the bathroom for the next hour. He warns me not to answer if the doorbell rings or if anyone knocks on our door. He says that Abbas’s wife has said she’ll come this afternoon.

He closes the door of the balcony firmly then stuffs a piece of cloth at the bottom. Another piece under the door to the room. He puts the primus stove down on the floor at the edge of the blanket. On top of the flame, he sets a sheet of tin that he made from the lid of a can of shortening. He throws some frankincense, seeds and herbs on top of it from small bags lined up on the desk next to a white plate made of china. He pulls down the book The Great Star of Knowledge. The fragrant vapors rise up and fill the room. I cough. He mutters to himself the ninety-nine names of God. He brings a sheet of paper and ink. He sits cross-legged. He throws more of the incense on to the fire. He recites: “Say, ‘I seek refuge in the Lord of the dawn/From the evil in His creation/From the evil of the dark as it spreads/From the evil of the sorceress who casts her breath on the knot/From the evil of the envious one who envies.’ ” I study the fire. He pokes me with his elbow so I’ll repeat the verse. We recite it several times.

He takes a pin and a sheet of paper. He pokes it and says: “Against Nabila’s eye. Against her husband’s eye. Against Tahiya’s eye. Against the constable’s eye. Against ’Abdel Alim’s eye. Against Ali Safa’s eye. Against Um Safwat’s eye. Against Hikmet’s eye. Against Sheikh Afifi’s eye.” He thinks for a second, then adds: “Against Khalil’s eye.” He throws the paper on to the fire and watches it go up in flames.

I try to get up but he says we aren’t done yet. He takes the china plate from on top of the desk. He puts it in front of himself. He takes the bottle of blue ink and a reed pen. He opens The Great Star of Knowledge to a page marked by a white sheet of paper. He sticks the pen in the bottle of ink. He grabs the plate and starts to write out the fatiha around its edges. He turns the plate around in a circle and keeps on until he has finished the whole chapter. He reads from the marked page of the book. He takes from it a big square with long columns covering it lengthwise and across the width. He pours a cup of water on to the dish and adds a few drops from the bottle of rose water and a spoon of honey. He gives it to me to drink. I pull my head away. He shouts at me: “Drink it!”

I drink the mixture. He tells me to repeat after him: “May God bless what I have drunk that it might help me with learning and comprehension.” He reads from the The Embryo: “Recite in the name of thy Lord who created; created the human from an embryo. Recite and thy Lord is all giving, who taught by the pen, who taught the human what is known.” He prostrates himself in prayer twice, and I pray with him. My mother’s voice from the bedroom: “Ya Seen, and the Quran is wisdom. Verily you are one of its messengers.” He puts the small shaving mirror in my hand. He tells me to press my finger on its brass frame that keeps falling off.

He opens the book to another page. He says that the exam questions are going to appear on the mirror’s glass and that I need to pay close attention. He reads from the book in a voice that shakes: “O Lord, employ Your angels on my behalf, there is no god but You, O Lord of dignity and generosity, O living and ascendant One I implore You, Giver of sustenance to sustain me.” He repeats the incantation forty times while counting on his fingers. He says: “O Answerer, answer my call and fulfill my needs.”

I stare at the surface of the mirror and repeat after him: “I ask You by Boqallim, Shounahil, Shahareen, I ask You by the holiness of Kashheel, Bardeem, Baha’eel, Ajajeel, ’Anaseel, and I ask You by the holiness of Gabrael, Micha’il, Israfeel, and Azra’el. O Lord, I ask You verily O Lord of dignity and generosity, O living and ascendant One. I ask in Your name, O most supreme One.” He scolds me: “Slow down.” He continues: “And I ask You in your name, Allah, Allah, Allah, the Beautiful, the Generous, and I ask You in Your name, the One, the Glorious, and I ask You in Your name, God the Prince of holiness and peace, the Trustworthy, the beloved Grand Ruler, the grace of Allah fall on our pleas. If You should come to us conveyor of these names, answer us with the righteousness of He who speaks the heavens and earth, may our will and our obedience come to us and speak, addressing us in our obedience, in the rightness of A’aya, Sharaahiya, Adotay, Usbawat, with haste, with haste, right now, right now.”

He asks me: “Did anything come up?”

I answer: “I’m not sure. There’s some scribbling in the corner.”

He sounds worried as he asks: “In English?”

“Don’t know.”

He takes it from me. He studies it then gives it back to me saying that the scribbling is just a rust spot. He reads the book and then flips through a few pages.

“Did anything come up?”

I shake my head. He says sadly: “I don’t know what happened. Are you sure that you’ve washed?” I say I’m sure and he shakes his head like he’s all confused.

He flips through the book then stops at one of the pages. He takes a sheet of paper and writes a few words on it. He folds it up and hands it to me: “Keep this in your pocket always.”

I want to get up. He stops me: “Memorize that invocation. Say it with me.” He recites: “By the right of these noble names, Kahi’adh, hem ‘asiq. Dumb and deaf and blind, for they will not return to Him.” I repeat the invocation after him. He tests me. He makes sure I know it by heart. He tells me to recite it seventy times as I enter the oral exam. Then I repeat the word “Kahi’adh” letter by letter. After each letter, I curl up a finger from my right hand. When my turn comes before the examiner, I raise up my hand, unfolding them in his face. The magician takes out his things and spreads them around in a big circle. We gather around the circle. He pulls a long chain of colored handkerchiefs from his sleeve. He raises a bottle of gas to his mouth. He takes up a long steel pole with a flame burning at the end of it. He opens his mouth and blows up a flame like a rocket launching. He promises us we’ll see a snake coming out of its egg if we pay him. He passes through us holding a tambourine with his monkey tied to him by a chain. He finishes the pass through then shakes the tambourine. He announces that what he has collected isn’t enough. He takes his things and leaves.

She unfolds the sheets and pillows over the edge of the balcony. He screams at her: “The mattress first.” She drags the sheets and pillows to the side. She comes back into the room and bends over the mattress. He helps her lift it on top of her head. Her frail body wavers. She throws it on top of the balcony ledge and rains down blows with the wicker dust racket. Thick dust floats up from it. She beats the blankets and the pillows. She starts to pant from the work and her pale face turns red.