Albert Cossery - Laziness in the Fertile Valley

She burst out with a strident laugh that made the flame of the candle dance. A feeble cry of fright came from the cradle.

“He wants to get married?”

“You know about it, then,” said Rafik, stunned by her question.

“Yes, I know about it, and I’m delighted by the news. It gives me great pleasure to see you miserable at last.”

“Don’t rejoice too soon,” Rafik said. “The marriage is not going to take place.”

“You’re going to stop it, I suppose! Infant!”

“Perhaps I don’t have to stop it,” he said. “In any case, the marriage will not take place. There’s one thing you don’t know about.”

“What, you devil?”

Rafik did not reply. He realized he had ventured too far. Now he had to tell this wretched woman everything because she wished to know everything.

“What thing? Tell me.”

He smiled slyly, closed his eyes, and said after a moment of silence:

“It’s a secret.”

“The hell with you! What’s the secret?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“By Allah, you’d better tell me! If you don’t I’ll scream so loud all the neighbors will come here and chase you out like a dog. Come, tell me, tell me!”

In spite of his torpor, Rafik sensed a storm and searched for a refuge against this possible onslaught. But it was too late for him to react. There was no limit to the fury of this woman. He knew that too well; she was capable of rousing the whole quarter for the simple pleasure of creating a scandal.

“Ah well!” he said. “Since you insist you might as well know that my dear father has a hernia.”

“A hernia!” she exclaimed.

“A hideous hernia,” said Rafik. “A real disaster.”

Imtissal leaned forward and stared at Rafik with a dazed look.

“I don’t understand. What is this hernia? You’re making a fool of me, scum!”

“It’s easy enough to understand,” said Rafik. “You undoubtedly know what a hernia is? Very well! My dear father is afflicted with a hernia as big as a watermelon. One doesn’t marry with a thing like that. Now do you understand?”

Imtissal remained dumfounded for a moment as she began to comprehend. Then she was seized by a sudden fit of hysteria, and began to jerk as she laughed, her bead thrown back, her body shaking with convulsions.

“I beg you, he quiet,” Rafik implored.

She didn’t seem to hear him; she laughed on, carried away by a wild gaiety. Rafik stared at her, his face drained by terror. The spectacle of this degraded frenzy brought him back again to a detested world of perversity and corruption. He would have liked to flee, but his inertia held him in the chair, and he felt that her laughter would follow him forever in his sleep.

At last she calmed herself.

“What a family!” she said. “I could wish to kill you all, but instead you’ll make me die laughing at your stories.”

“This is hardly a story to laugh at,” said Rafik. “If you only knew what I suffered before I found out about this hernia. I couldn’t sleep. It’s saved us all from a catastrophe.”

“No matter, it’s a charming tale,” said Imtissal. “And trust me, I’ll take it upon myself to spread it around the quarter.”

But suddenly she appeared to be profoundly disappointed. The thought that the marriage of old Hafez could really be ruined by this hernia moved her so that her eyes filled with tears. Her vengeance might escape her. Then anger seized her again, and glaring at the young man she cried:

“It isn’t true!”

“What isn’t true?’

‘That your father has a hernia. It’s a lie you’ve invented to get me in trouble. Admit it, you bastard.”

“It’s all true,” said Rafik. “On my honor, it’s no lie. My father has a hernia. Do you want to see it?”

“Shut up, dog! Do you want me to kill you?”

“Forgive me,” said Rafik. “I see you don’t dare accept it. However, it exists. Believe me.”

He was alarmed to see this stupid grief in her. For the first time he noticed the changes in her features. On her face, already aged, was the brand of long prostitution. Rafik felt again an immense pity for her, and saw that she would soon be nothing more than a worn-out whore with hanging flesh. But what was this woman’s fate to him? There were thousands like her spread across the world. She could do him nothing but harm.

“Listen to me, Imtissal. I haven’t come to talk about my father’s hernia. Now, I beg you, stop treating me like an enemy. You must know why I abandoned you two years ago, and you must pardon me. You thought it was in obedience to my father, and that isn’t true. The truth is that I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” demanded Imtissal.

“I was afraid of all that was not our house. Of all that moves and strives uselessly in life. When I’m not in my bed, I feel as though something fatal will happen to me. I’m not really at peace except in bed. That’s easy enough to understand.”

“I won’t try,” cried Imtissal, “You’ve come to tell me these stupid little stories, you son of a whore.”

“Yes. I’ve wanted to make you understand the distance that has separated us for a long time. I knew you wanted me to leave you. But now that you know the reason, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Forgive you!” said Imtissal. “Then you think I’ve suffered for two years only for you to come and tell me stories? How am I supposed to believe that you’re sorry?”

“But I’m not sorry,” said Rafik. “What I thought for two years I’m more convinced of now than ever. All I want is to know that you understand that my father had nothing to do with my decision, and that my sleep is what I wanted to save by abandoning you.”

“I don’t understand anything,” said Imtissal. “You’re an idler — that I knew. You don’t have to explain that to me. But I hoped that through love for me you’d do anything to shake off your laziness. You could have worked and earned a living without help from your father. We could have been so happy with each other!”

“Work!” cried Rafik. “Earn a living! That’s all you think of. And you pretend you loved me. What would you have done to me if you hadn’t loved me! You can kill a man with ideas like that. No, Imtissal, I’m not made for work.”

“What are you made for then?”

“I’m made to sleep and to live in a corner, away from men. Listen, Imtissal, I’m afraid of men. They’re all criminals — like you — always wanting to make others work.”

“You’re a fool. Besides, all your family are corrupters. Damn the day I knew you and loved you!”

She was still sitting on the bed, and stared at him in silence and antagonism. This man she had loved had revealed himself to her like the malingering touch of a contagious disease. Never had she expected this exhibition of indolence which bordered on madness. She remained voiceless, subdued by fear, wondering how she could get rid of him.

Rafik suddenly felt overwhelmed by a great torpor. He began to be aware of a profound listlessness, and a great need for sleep tortured him. What had he come looking for at this woman’s house? An explanation? He should have guessed she would understand nothing. She was like the others, tainted by her mean existence, indoctrinated with righteousness, and ready to overturn the world for a love story. She couldn’t remain at rest; she must be on the move all the time, and make others move. He looked at her fixedly, astonished that this woman, almost naked and whom he had loved, was so close to him, yet gave him no desire to caress her. Even the simple thought of caressing her terrified him like the threat of some laborious business. He glanced away, opened his mouth to yawn, but stopped, disturbed by the sight of the cradle.