Rafik Schami - The Dark Side of Love

“You’ll know the song. ‘Sleep, baby, sleep, I’ll cook you a dove, my dear. Little dove, never fear, never fear, I’m lying to make my child sleep.’ Pretty, isn’t it?’

Dr. Salam nodded, smiling.

“I held the woman’s hand and she told me about her life, and then she kissed me and said she wished I were her daughter. Then she wept. She didn’t say why, she just wept. Years later I discovered that she had lost a daughter of my age. But from the day when she sang me that song, I used to visit her and she spoiled me like a princess. My mother realized how fond I was of our neighbour, and after a while she wouldn’t let me go to see her any more. I never understood why.”

She lost track of the time she spent talking to Dr. Salam. In the evening she was told she could go to the common room. A young nurse went with her. There was a comedy show on television, but all the women patients there sat absorbed in their own worlds. They called out, sang, shouted and cried, and the television was on at full volume the whole time. No one paid it any attention. One woman sat with her back to the screen, pulling faces. The women’s voices died away, leaving no trace in Rana’s mind. The air was heavy; she could hardly breathe. After a short time she rose to her feet and left the room. The nurse went with her.

Two dogs were barking outside in the darkness. She saw her face reflected in the window, pale and lost as it looked back at her. She stood by the window in silence. Down in the dark garden a cigarette glowed, and for a moment she saw a man’s face. She undressed and stood at the window naked. Perhaps Farid was seeing her now in his dreams. She didn’t hear the door open. The red-haired nurse came in and shook her head with pretended compassion. Then she handed Rana some tablets, put her long nightdress on her, and helped her into bed.

Al-Asfuriye, the House of Sparrows — that was the name of the psychiatric hospital. She suddenly remembered a language teacher who had once told her that in Arabic the words for “insanity”, “ghosts”, and “Paradise” were closely related. They all had to do with hiding away.

280. First Report

Dr. Salam, chief medical director. Reception report, Monday 15 April 1968, 16.00 hours.

Hospitalization: patient brought in by mother and brother three days ago, seems willing to be here, perhaps even relieved. Was here for three weeks in summer last year (I was in Paris at the time, 8th Psychiatric Congress. Little useful information from my deputy, Dr. Huss).

According to mother, has always given family cause for concern, “difficult”. Has been increasingly unwell for last two or three months, withdrawn, hardly eating, has not seemed normal. Keeps going up on the roof to spray water over neighbours and passers by. Not much further background to be gleaned from the family

Psychostatus: Young, pretty, obviously intelligent woman, father is a well-known attorney. On admission clearly aware, generally well-orientated, but expression hypotonic, physical movement restricted, body language conveys desperation, anxious, suggestion of Veraguth’s eyelid folds. Speech monotonous, monosyllabic, thought processes slowed down and inhibited, but no formal thought disturbances present. Mood despondent, possible lack of affective control. Speech reserved, confined to a few subjects: feels she can’t go on, she is a burden to everyone else, can no longer perform her domestic duties (also marital duties?), despairing. Strong feelings of guilt.

Also sense of failure regarding parents, especially father. Poor relationship with mother. Suicidal feelings allegedly present, but nothing concrete. No delusions or hallucinatory experiences. General loss of interest, weak drives, abulia. Sleep disturbances, difficulty in falling asleep, insomnia. No deep morning sleep.

Somatic condition (pending examination by Dr. Balkani): good general condition, slightly undernourished. Says she has lost 4 kilos in recent weeks.

Anamnesis: no serious anamnesic disturbances.

Heredity: great-uncle on mother’s side apparently suffered from depression. Mother also takes anti-depressants. Patient grew up in comfortable circumstances in Damascus, younger brother. No developmental problems can be traced, very good school student with excellent high school diploma (father publicly boasts of it). Had planned to study at university, but married in 1961 to cousin on her mother’s side (Rami Kudsi now a colonel). Seems to have been psychologically well balanced until her marriage. No indication of earlier depressive or manic phases.

Traditional moral upbringing, can be assumed that father especially was strict and not communicative. Mother disappointed that Rana was not a boy (obsessed with securing family bloodline). Mother/daughter relationship poor from the first.

All this in some contradiction to the mental independence evidenced by educational achievements and aspirations. Denies conflicts with her father, although I would not be surprised to find that they exist. Appears very conformist, husband certainly matches parents’ wishes. No children. Cautiously approached on subject of her marriage, she reacts with anxious uneasiness, becomes reserved, suspicious. Feels guilty towards husband but will not say why. Unclear whether reserve is to be attributed only to depression, or whether it is particularly difficult for her to speak to me, because I am a friend of her father’s. Dr. Bishara would be helpful here.

Diagnosis: initial phrase of a probably exogenous depression, with an element of anxiety. No indications of cyclothymia.

Procedure: admission to quiet room in acute ward for women. Begin with bed rest, exercise only in company of staff. Watch for suicidal signs. No visitors at first; patient to feel distanced from her family and safe.

Medication: begin with imipramine and low dosage of levomepromazine. Chloral to help her sleep. If effects insufficient, perhaps chlorpromazine.

In view of the presumably neurotic factors, Dr. Bishara to have regular conversations with her on the ward. Patient to come to my office once a week.

281. On a Distant Island

Farid was laughing at her. And as if he were an appetizing dish to eat, she found her mouth watering. When she woke up, the sky was looking in through her window. It was very early, the garden still lay in shadow, and a rooster was crowing far away. She felt strong, and opened the window. The air smelled of jasmine and orange blossom. She held the bars and breathed deeply with relief. She was free. She was feeling better every day now that she was here.

Over the last few days she had felt a curious sense of peace. Questions surfaced, could not be answered, and left her in melancholy mood. Why had Jack always been preferred to her? He had been allowed to go out into the street any time, visit his friends, go to the cinema. But every outing she wanted to make had to be carefully checked first. And when she and Jack made the same mistakes, she had always been punished more severely, on the grounds that mistakes do girls more damage than boys. And then everyone was so serious. She had always liked laughter, and as a child she loved anyone who smiled at her.

She liked the peace and quiet of this institution, so she refused to see any of her family. Dr. Salam understood, and went along with her wishes without any ifs or buts. He had even spoken angrily to her mother when she pestered him, and sent her off home. Dr. Salam said nothing about this little altercation, which had been conducted in his office. Rana heard of it only from Adnan, the nice male nurse with the glass eye. When her mother left, Dr. Salam had told Adnan that they would have to keep her in the closed ward for a couple of years.

Adnan was a joker who kept taking his glass eye out, hiding it in his mouth behind closed lips, and then putting on sunglasses. When he met anyone he laughed, and his eye would peep out of his mouth.