Naguib Mahfouz - The Seventh Heaven

Raouf fell into a pained silence as Abu continued to lecture him, “You did not choose the right target. Your egoism got the better of you, though you did not know it. It would have been easier to provoke him to rebel against his father. If he had succeeded in that, he would not have been disgraced. But it was hardly easy for a foolish, pampered young man to sacrifice his own life — while his father’s felonies included your murder.”

“Please tell me the verdict,” Raouf said in resignation.

“Raouf Abd-Rabbuh, I regret to inform you that you have been condemned.”

As soon as Abu pronounced his sentence, Raouf, too, was gone.

14

There was a lengthy inquiry into the case of Rashida Sulayman. She went to trial, where she convinced the court that she had acted in self-defense. The result was acquittal. Her mother decided that to remain in the hara at the mercy of Boss Qadri the Butcher posed an unpredictable danger, so she fled that night with her daughter, destination unknown.

At the same time, the bursting stream of life in the alley began to wash away the froth of sadness. Raouf’s destitute mother married Shaykh Shakir al-Durzi six months after the death of his wife. She bore him a son that she named Raouf to immortalize the memory of the one she had lost. Yet this was not really Raouf returning, but the soul of Anous in a new guise. Likewise, one of Boss Qadri’s wives gave birth to a boy that the father called Anous, in honor of the son taken from him — but this was none other than Raouf’s spirit transmigrated to a new body.

15

The child Raouf (Anous) grew up in the house of Shakir al-Durzi, along with many brothers and sisters, in a life of luxury, thanks to the bribes that Qadri the Butcher paid the shaykh of the alley. Yet the shaykh did not preoccupy himself with raising his children, or with marrying off his daughters. None of the boys were educated beyond Qur’an school, but worked in the lowest trades, whether in the hara itself or outside it. Nor was Raouf more fortunate than his brothers. At the beginning, his mother insisted that he excel in learning, only to be harshly reprimanded by her husband. Soon the boy was given a petty job in a bakery. Raouf was glad for that, because he did not find within himself either the true inclination or drive to study. As he grew older he understood the actual situation in his alley — the cocky dominance of Boss Qadri the Butcher, and the despicable role played by his father. And there was the life of poverty to which he was fated, in the service of Rashad al-Dabash, the bakery’s owner.

Anous (Raouf) had been his classmate at school. They had a natural sympathy for each other, and spent all their time playing together. A strong bond of affection was forged between them. Nonetheless, life separated them despite their living in the same quarter. Anous was enrolled in primary school after Qur’an school, then in secondary school, before finally entering the Police Academy. Perhaps they sometimes met on the street, or in the home of Qadri the Butcher when Raouf was delivering dough or returning with loaves of bread. At such times they would each exchange a fleeting smile, or a greeting — from Anous’ side — that seemed a bit feeble. Raouf could tell that their childhood friendship was dwindling away and evaporating, and their two worlds were growing further and further apart. He felt more and more sharply the contradictions of life, and its miseries. He was annoyed with Anous, but he utterly loathed Qadri the Butcher and Rashad the Baker, and abhorred his own father. Indeed, the flame of life singed him, kindled by what he heard that the young people were saying in the coffeehouse— until Anous himself would sit with those same youths, expressing his views with passion. With this he appeared to be a strange young man, at odds with the house in which he dwelt, in rebellion against his infamous father.

For his part, Boss Qadri the Butcher watched Anous’s development with unease. This was a peculiarly peevish offspring, one that stirred fears; he even once called him “a bastard son.”

One day he asked him, “What do you say to the riffraff in the café, and what do they tell you?”

“We exchange our concerns, father,” he answered politely.

“They are your enemies,” objected Qadri.

“They are my friends,” Anous said, smiling.

“If you overstep your limits, you’ll find me another person, without any mercy whatsoever,” swore Boss Qadri.

Qadri told himself that soon his son would become a police officer. Then he would become mature and know his place in life. Next, he would marry — and his problem with him would end.

Anous did indeed graduate as an officer. He was appointed to their own quarter through his father’s influence and his courting of highly placed persons.

16

Time is what made Raouf and Anous turn out differently than expected. A current swept through the alley, or rather new currents did — both rebellious and even revolutionary. And so they burst out of the suffocating air at home, each one adopting a new personality. No one sensed the danger from Anous before he became a policeman. Yes, there had been alienating disturbances between himself and his father, yet Qadri had thought everything would change in his favor when his son was officially launched in his career.

As for Raouf, his employer, Rashad al-Dabash, soon grew angry with him. He slapped him on the face, shouting, “Look out for yourself — and don’t lead your pals down the wrong path!”

If it weren’t for his father Shakir al-Durzi’s rank as shaykh of the hara, then Raouf would have lost his job,though Rashad complained to him about the boy. The shaykh was astounded at this new type of insubordination, and sought to tame him with a harsh beating. When he found him still stubborn, he resorted to calling on the officer.

“Effendim,” Anous advised, “threaten him with the law — that is better than our having to arrest him tomorrow.”

Thus Raouf appeared before his old friend Anous. For a long time they traded just looks with each other, then memories they shared together, until their faces glowed with the warmth of their old camaraderie.

“How are you, Raouf?” Anous asked him, smiling.

“Miserable,” Raouf replied, “so far away from you.”

“You should have continued your education,” Anous told him.

“That was my father’s doing — and what’s done is done.”

“Look out for yourself,” Anous told him seriously. “The law has no mercy.”

“The Boss caused all this evil — and there’s no mercy in his heart.”

Lowering his voice, Anous repeated, “Watch out for yourself….”

After this, Anous sought to shake up the hara’s consciousness, and to make his father tremble. He had Shaykh Shakir al-Durzi transferred to another alley, putting a new, more trustworthy man, Badran Khalifa, in his place. This hit Boss Qadri the Butcher like a violent revolution, depriving him of the precious right hand that had shielded him from the law.

“How did this happen when you’re an officer in the station here?” he confronted his son.

“That protection is for you — and the people too.

“You’re my son — and my enemy, Anous.

“Know, father, that I’m your faithful son.

Each speaking their own language, mutual comprehension between the two became impossible, and black dust covered the house’s face.

17

A woman came to meet Anous in the station. When his eyes beheld her face, his breast was moved by a sweet new melody. Such a wonder, this serene beauty with her dark, almond-shaped eyes. It was as though her image was already engraved in his passion to awaken it anew. She was at least twenty years older than he was: her expression entwined serenity and sadness.