Albert Cossery - Laziness in the Fertile Valley

“No one will keep me from going!”

Serag watched her leave the room, disturbed. She would tell them now; they would come preach to him. He began to dress hurriedly. He meant to resist their advice and their cowardly temptations.

Rafik was the first to appear.

“What’s the matter! Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I’ve decided to look for work in the city.”

Rafik was astounded; he’d just woken up. His mind was confused and he couldn’t deal with such a serious situation. It was very difficult. Finally, he said:

“Have you any money?”

“What for?”

“You’re going to the city without any money?”

“I’m going to work, I tell you. I’ll earn money.”

“Poor boy! Do you think they’re just waiting to make you a minister?”

“I don’t want to be a minister! What makes you think I do?”

“Then what do you want to be?”

“I don’t know. I beg you, leave me alone. I have to think about what to take.”

Rafik sat down on the bed, pondering the gravity of the case. He feared the worst for his brother. This idea of looking for work in the city was a trap of the Devil. It would bring all sorts of complications, would utterly destroy the innermost recesses of their retreat. There’d be no end to watches and waiting. Now that the danger of his father’s marriage was almost removed by the news of the hernia, Rafik was dismayed at this new threat to their sleep. It was a vicious circle; they would never get out of it.

“Listen,” he said. “I’ve discovered a secret.”

“What secret?” asked Serag.

“I don’t think Father can marry after all,” said Rafik. “We’ve had incredible luck!”

“That doesn’t interest me,” said Serag. “Why should I care whether or not Father marries!”

“O traitor,” said Rafik. “Never mind! I just want you to know we’re in no danger. We’ll be able to sleep peacefully. Life will be pleasant again.”

“But I don’t want to sleep,” cried Serag. Who told you I wanted to sleep?”

“No one,” said Rafik. “But all men like to sleep. You’re a monster! I’m not going to waste any more time on you.”

“You’ve been wearing yourself out for nothing,” said Serag. “I’m going. No one can stop me.”

Rafik didn’t answer; he looked as though he might fall asleep. He remained silent for a few moments, then opened his eyes and said:

“You’re not afraid?”

“What would I be afraid of?”

“Of streetcars,” said Rafik. “They’re terrible. They crush thousands of people every day!”

“That’s not true,” said Serag. “You just have to watch out and not walk on the tracks.”

“But can you watch out?” said Rafik.

“Why not? I’m not blind.”

“You’re worse than blind,” said Rafik. “By Allah, you’ll get lost on the way. You won’t be able to get back to the house.”

“I don’t plan to come back,” said Serag. “You’d better go back to bed. Hoard your energy to watch for Haga Zohra! Why worry about me?”

“I’m not worried about you, imbecile! I’m thinking about our peace. When you leave all kinds of talk will start. And I don’t want it! Father’s marriage is enough! We’re trying to stop a scandal and you’re already starting another. My God! You’ll kill me!”

“Ah! That’s what you’re thinking about! I thought it was just your affection for me.”

“You’re an ass!”

Serag had finished dressing; he was tying up a bundle that held a few clothes. It was his baggage. He was proud of it; now he was sure of leaving.

At this moment, they heard a groaning in the hall, and old Hafez appeared in the doorway, supported by Uncle Mustapha, who seemed to be feeling his own importance.

“What do I hear? You want to leave!”

“Yes, Father.”

“Where, ungrateful son?”

“I want to go to the city, Father!”

“To the city!” cried old Hafez. “You hear! He says he wants to go to the city. What have I done to God to be given such a son?”

Uncle Mustapha, his tarboosh quivering on his head, his voice authoritative, addressed Rafik:

“Move a little. Let your father sit down.”

Rafik drew back against the wall and old Hafez sat down on the edge of the bed. He settled his hernia comfortably between his legs, breathed painfully and said:

“Now explain this to me. What is this madness?”

“It’s not madness,” said Serag. “Father, try to understand; I want to work.”

“Allah help us! You want to work! Why? What don’t you like about this house?”

“I can’t tell you, Father! I need to go away.”

“Ungrateful son! I’ve fed you and dressed you all these years and this is my thanks!”

“What ingratitude is there in wanting to work, Father? I don’t understand.”

“You want to cover us all with shame!”

Old Hafez was thinking of the ridicule Serag’s departure would bring the family; he trembled for his marriage. Such a scandal would surely cost him the good will of respectable people. He already had worries enough because of his infirmity which, at least, wouldn’t be seen until his wedding night. But if his youngest son left, and especially to go to work, he would really be overwhelmed by shame.

“Father, let me go! I promise to come back tonight. Don’t worry.”

“And who says you can come back! You think people can come and go as they please? What if the police arrest you?”

“Why would the police arrest me?” asked Serag, stunned.

“For nothing,” said old Hafez. “Then there are the streetcars, the automobiles, the cabs — all kinds of dangers. And what about the government. You’re not afraid of the government?”

“What’s the government going to do?’

“The government’s against revolts,” said old Hafez. “They’ll put you under arrest.”

“But I haven’t done anything against the government,” said Serag.

“The government won’t ask you for explanations. They’ll lock you up, I tell you!”

“Because I want to work?”

“Yes, those are subversive ideas; can’t you understand that? I’d like to know who put such ideas in your head. You were born in an honorable family. I beg you not to ruin our reputation.”

“Especially right now when we need it,” said Rafik.

Old Hafez seemed to ignore Rafik, lying behind him on the bed. He had caught the sarcasm in his words, but controlled himself, and gave vent to several menacing groans. He didn’t want to make the scene any worse. His first concern was Serag’s departure. He’d take care of Rafik later.

“Why are you awake! My word! It’s only dawn!”

It was Galal, awakened by the noise of the discussion. He feared some new mishap and had come to find out what the trouble was.

“It’s your brother Serag,” said Rafik. “He’s decided to go to the city to look for work.”

“Poor boy!” said Galal. “God help him.”

“God is with the lazy,” said Rafik. “He has nothing to do with the vampires who work.”

“You’re right,” said Galal. “Where can I sit down?”

He looked around, saw the bed occupied, and slid down against the wall. He put his head on his knees and went back to sleep.

“Good heavens, he’s asleep!” said old Hafez. “Galal, wake up! Speak to your brother. You’re the eldest, maybe he’ll listen to you. He doesn’t listen to me, his own father.”

Galal raised his head wearily; he seemed irritated.

“You want me to talk to a fool! I’ve enough trouble with the mouse.”

“The mouse!” said old Hafez. “He’s dreaming. What can I do?”

“There’s nothing to do,” said Serag. “I have to go.”

“You hear,” said old Hafez. “He’s going to leave. I have no control over this boy!”