Bahaa Taher - Sunset Oasis

'Let us then thank God for that,' I said. 'The Egyptians come and they kill some of us and we kill some of them but they leave us on our land.'

The other then continued, addressing Sheikh Sabir, 'Why would these British come to our land? We haven't declared war on them and we don't know them.'

Sheikh Sabir answered, 'But the district commissioner's wife is British. If we kill her, perhaps their troops will come instead of the Egyptians to take their revenge. They'll see it as an excuse, as is their custom, to take our land, and then no one will be able to save us.'

The agwad fell silent for a while, thinking over what had been said. Then they all started talking at once, their questions overlapping one another, but Sabir ignored them all and addressed his words in decisive tones to Mabrouk, who had raised his voice in an attempt to make himself heard:

'Mabrouk! Go back to your brothers and tell them not to harm the woman or her husband. Tell them that your sheikhs the agwad will think and consult with one another before they take any steps.'

Then he turned away from him and said, addressing the gathering, 'What say you to our sending a messenger to Our Master the Mahdi in Jaghboub to tell him what's happening and ask his opinion?'

I said to myself, 'Have I misjudged you, Sabir? Today you have done everything you could to turn the zaggala and the agwad from thoughts of murder and war. You frightened them with unprecedented consequences when you spoke to them of the British and you rebuked the zaggala, who might have incited their sheikhs to civil strife. You gained the consent of the Westerners, who place their faith in the Mahdi of the Senoussis and obey his commands, and you were able to calm their fury at the breaking of the inviolacy of Aghurmi by the commissioner's wife. You gained time until the Senoussi's answer comes from Jaghboub and the answer will, as usual, advise calm. So were my suspicions unfounded when I thought you'd invited us to a council of war? Thank God that I was wrong this time!'

Mabrouk had left the gathering, so the attendance was limited to the agwad, and a chatter started up to which I shut my ears. Suddenly, though, I heard my name on Sabir's tongue. He was saying, 'Why don't you say something, Sheikh Yahya? We need your opinion. Isn't she your daughter?'

Taken by surprise by the question, I asked, 'Who are you talking about, Sheikh Sabir?'

'About Maleeka, of course. Naturally, she is the daughter of us all, Easterners and Westerners, but you are her maternal uncle, so who better than you to bring her to her senses?'

I gathered my wits and resisted the urge to explode with anger. So with a passing question you'd thrust Maleeka into the cauldron of East and West? She's no longer just a wife estranged from her husband but a problem for the whole town?

I replied, my voice almost choking in my throat, 'As you said, she's the daughter of you all, so decide what you think is right.'

The divide now started to work in earnest and the voices of the sheikhs of the East began little by little to rise, the agwad of the West matching their cries. I forced myself to remain silent so as not to add fuel to the fire. I blocked my ears and sought refuge within myself.

'Such is your luck, Maleeka,' I said to myself. She is indeed my daughter! I love her more than any of the daughters of my loins or any of my granddaughters. But my sister married her off — Maleeka, than whom I know none more beautiful or more intelligent in our land — to the aged, feeble Mi'bid, who could be her grandfather. Keep silent, Yahya! How many girls have you married during your life whose grandfather you could have been? But I wasn't like Mi'bid! Many years ago, once I realized my business with them was done, I stopped taking wives and divorced the women I had. But Mi'bid chose Maleeka before she was fifteen years old. They selected that poor girl specifically for the experiment. Her mother, like all the Westerners, believes everything Our Master the Senoussi says, and he said, 'Let the Easterners and the Westerners marry one another that they may be one clan and the wars between them come to an end.' And of all the girls, the half-dead Mi'bid chose the fatherless Maleeka and her mother gave her consent. I did what I could but my sister dug in her heels. I know that the marriage of old men to young girls is not a matter of importance in our oasis so long as the man is rich and capable of fathering children, but I know Maleeka too, and what I expected happened. Maleeka fled her husband's house in Shali and went back to her mother in Aghurmi, asking for divorce. And now too everything I expected is taking place — Mi'bid is refusing divorce and demanding that Maleeka return to her husband's house. He didn't attend the council of the agwad because of his illness, but all the sheikhs of the East are taking his side and they are angrier than he. Maleeka doesn't matter to them, but how could a girl from the West refuse a sheikh of the East? Either she return or…

I know, however, that Maleeka will not return, and I know that the Mahdi's idea for stopping the wars will do no good. Nothing would change even if all the Easterners married Western women or the other way around. Intermarriage will not dislodge that seed which lies hidden in men's hearts. Now before us we have the marriage of one Western woman to an Easterner and it bodes no good, while for causes much less than this wars have broken out between you. If only I knew what lies behind this killing malice! If only I knew what would root it out! Just look at them consulting with one another, or pretending they are consulting with one another.

The agwad of the Westerners say, 'She should return the bride price and he should let her go.'

The Easterners say, 'No. She should return to her husband's house first. If he wishes to divorce her of his own free will, he may do so. But she must return first.'

'Let her go and we'll give him in marriage the most high-born of all the girls of the Westerners,' respond the Westerners.

Sheikh Sabir intervened as though he wanted to resolve the dispute, but he poured oil on the fire. He said in a reasonable tone, 'Or he could let her go and we could give him in marriage the most high-born of the Easterners, if he has no further appetite for the Western girls, or they for him.' Angry mutterings arose from Westerners and Easterners alike, and the voice of an Easterner rose above them, challengingly: 'His other wives are already of the most high-born of the Easterners, Sheikh Sabir. He's not asking for a new wife, he's asking for God's Law. Do they have no control over their daughter?'

The agwad of the West perceived the slight and some of them got up, waving their hands threateningly in the direction of the sheikhs of the East. I got up too and once again burst out furiously, 'Now you think of God's Law? There's nothing easier for either you or us than divorce. There's a divorcee, or more than one, in every house in this town. There are those who were divorced before even their husbands knew about it because their mothers-in-law hated the girls and concluded the divorce themselves. Why do you cling to Maleeka now?'

'Calm yourself, Sheikh Yahya,' said Sabir. 'We are consulting and will find a solution, God willing.'

I couldn't contain myself, however, and went on, 'You can go on consulting for ever! Neither your people nor the others want a solution. You are slavering to raise your rifles once again so that you can mow one another down. Enough of your lies! You have grown old, Agwad, and your hair has turned grey. Have your grey hairs taught you nothing?'

Sabir said, a note of anger in his voice, 'If anyone else but you had said that, Sheikh Yahya… And what about yourself? Haven't grey hairs taught you any patience? Who's talking about raising rifles? The agwad are consulting. As I said—'