Radwa Ashour - Blue Lorries

Months went by, and Nadeem said to me, ‘The driver used to play a recording of Qur’anic recitation. The volume was turned up high and reverberated throughout the bus, but it didn’t stop the passengers talking. They made their comments, and gossiped, and told their stories, sometimes making fun. No one tells jokes now. Lately a strange thing has come about: The driver doesn’t play recordings and none of the passengers talk — silence has fallen on the microbus, everyone is lost in his own thoughts — it’s as if a bird had landed on everyone’s head. That’s what I’ve observed on the different microbuses I take every day. But the strangest thing I’ve noticed is that if the passengers do talk — which happens only rarely now — if one person speaks and another answers, then conversation breaks out, and people talk provocatively about politics, and in stronger terms than you can imagine. Their criticism touches on everything, from the price of bread to government corruption to the gunboats moving in to strike Iraq.’

Nadir surprised us with an unannounced visit. There was a knock on the door Thursday evening, and there we found him. He had a small case in his hand, with another smaller bag slung from his shoulder. The commotion of our reunion was followed by mad excitement, as we hugged him one after another, with Hamdiya weeping, me laughing, Nadir talking, and Nadeem emitting odd sounds, so it was as if a flock of birds were fluttering and squawking and singing. Nadir announced, ‘First of all, this is one of those visits of the kind that go, “Is so-and-so with you? No? Then I’ll be on my way.” ’

‘You mean one week?’

‘Thursday, Friday, and then Saturday morning I’m off.’

‘No!’

Nadir continued, ‘The reason for this visit is Nada’s birthday. I said to myself, “This is the first birthday with me a solid working man earning a solid wage.” ’

With that he set upon me, kissed me on both cheeks and on my forehead. ‘Happy birthday,’ he said, ‘and many happy returns — you’re the best!’ He handed me the bag that had been hanging from his shoulder since he appeared on the doorstep. ‘Open it.’

I did so. I didn’t say a word, for I couldn’t have uttered a sound without shedding tears. Nadir understood me, and didn’t prolong the moment. He turned to Hamdiya. From his jacket pocket he drew a small box, opened it, and presented her with an elegant little watch. She wept some more. He said, ‘As for Nadeem, he’ll have to wait until the next visit, since my salary goes only so far. I bought two shirts, one for you and one for myself.’

Within seconds, the boys had taken off their shirts and begun taking the wrapping off the new ones, pulling out the pins and plastic collar-pieces, and undoing the buttons. Each donned his new shirt — the two garments were identical. Then Nadir announced, ‘If I don’t eat straightaway, I’m going to die and miss the chance to go out in my new shirt!’

‘Didn’t you eat on the plane?’

‘I ate, but only Hamdiya and Nada’s food can fill me up!’

The four of us stood in the kitchen, as I fixed one dish and Hamdiya another, while Nadeem made a salad, and Nadir told us his news. Then we carried the plates to the dining table. We stayed at the table talking and drinking tea until the call to prayer at dawn. Only then did we go to bed.

By seven I had drunk my tea and turned on the laptop computer that Nadir had given me. It was gorgeous, magnificent. I wasn’t sure whether I would have found it so beautiful had I seen it displayed for sale in some shop. ‘It’s beautiful because it’s a gift,’ I said to myself, ‘and beautiful in its own right, irrespective of other considerations.’ It was small, light, and elegant, its cover, the borders around the screen and the keyboard all of a fine silver colour. The keyboard was black, imprinted with Arabic and Roman letters in white. Its case was elegant as well, with one space for the machine, another for papers, and a third for storing the cords, adapter, and accessories, as well as two pockets: a square one for the compact discs that came with the computer, and another rectangular one for the mouse.

I was fixing another cup of tea when Nadeem woke up, kissed me, and shyly held out his hand, in which was something wrapped in coloured paper. ‘Happy birthday, Nada,’ he said.

‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ I replied.

‘The gift doesn’t measure up to the occasion.’

I opened it, kissed it, and kissed him.

We sat down to have tea together.

I was about to say, ‘The laptop Nadir brought me is a treasure,’ and then I thought better of it.

‘By the way, Nada,’ said Nadeem, ‘tell Mama that you commissioned Nadir to buy you that computer.’

‘But I didn’t commission him!’

‘I know. But it seems she’s upset. Yesterday while we were fixing tea she let slip a comment that gave her away.’

‘What did she say?’

‘It doesn’t matter what she said, but apparently she knows what that kind of equipment costs, and maybe she was comparing that to the price of the watch.’

‘And why are you passing this on to me?’ (The sharpness of the one-time child-rearer had resurfaced.)

‘I’m not passing anything on to you. I just wanted to prevent the possibility of any misunderstanding or hurt feelings. Tell her you gave him money for the computer, that it turned out not to be enough, and he made up his mind to cover the rest of the cost. That is, a compromise between a gift and something you asked him to get for you. She’ll calm down if you tell her that.’

‘I won’t do it!’

Then I added with finality, ‘I hope Nadir won’t hear about any of this nonsense!’

He was quiet. Then he said, ‘Nadir suggested I go to Dubai.’

‘Did you get a job offer?’

‘No, but he says he’d be able to get me a job with a decent salary. What do you think?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t know. But if things go on like this I’m going to take him up on it.’

It’s strange how we react. I took out my anger on Nadeem, not Hamdiya. I was furious with him for telling me what his mother had said — or rather, what was worse, passing along his own version of what she had said. From the time they were small, I refused to listen if Nadir said, ‘Nadeem did such-and-such,’ or if Nadeem said, ‘Nadir said such-and-such.’ I would give them a good scolding, and sometimes even punish the informer. Nadeem wasn’t being an informer. He was trying, pointlessly, to avert hurt feelings. Did he avert them or create them? Nadir was to be with us just one day; there was nothing for it but for me to drop the whole subject as if I hadn’t heard anything of it. But how?

Over lunch, Nadir said to me, ‘You look pale, Nada.’

‘I overate last night, and slept only two hours. Besides, we’ve started the countdown — you’re leaving tomorrow.’

‘Let’s think of today, not tomorrow. Nadeem and I are going to make you a birthday cake, whether it gets eaten or not — it’s the thought that counts.’

‘I’ll make it,’ Hamdiya put in.

I said, ‘I’m inviting you all to lunch at a restaurant — there’s no need for a cake. Thank you, Hamdiya.’

Something new was happening that struck me as odd, and I couldn’t let it go. I was following the blue lorries — I would encounter them by chance on the road, and pursue them. I said nothing about this to anyone, as my behaviour might provoke ridicule or at least laughter, or doubts as to my mental health. I would catch sight of them two or three cars ahead of me, or notice that they were behind me when they were reflected in the car’s rear-view mirror, or one of the side mirrors. I would find myself spontaneously turning the wheel to the right or left, speeding up or slowing down, jockeying for a place next to them. Most of the time I would be prevented by the heavy traffic in the streets and squares, or a light would turn red suddenly, forcing me to stop, or else a green light would oblige me to move forward inopportunely, or a couple of cars might pass me and I would fail to catch up with them. Sometimes there was a fork in the road, and my day’s agenda (if I was on my way to work or to an appointment I couldn’t miss) wouldn’t permit me to follow them, since I might end up where I hadn’t meant to go, deep in the byways from which it would take me more time than I had to extricate myself.