Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley

Zaita, feigning boredom and complete disinterest, replied, "At a time like this, Doctor?"

The "doctor" placed his hand on Zaita's shoulder and said, "The night is a veil, and our Lord ordained the veil!"

Zaita protested, belching out air, "But I am tired now!"

Dr. Booshy replied hopefully, "You have never let me down."

The two men begged and pleaded. Zaita yielded, as if unwillingly, and placed his food and tobacco on the shelf. He stood facing them, staring hard and long in silence. Then he fixed his eyes on the taller of the two. He was a giant of a man, and Zaita, amazed to see him there, asked, "You are an ox of a man! Why do you want to become a beggar?"

The man answered falteringly, "I am never successful at a job. I have tried all kinds of work, even being a beggar. My luck is bad and my mind is worse. I can never understand or remember anything."

Zaita commented spitefully, "Then you should have been born rich!"

The man did not understand what he meant and attempted to win Zaita's pity by pretending to weep, saying spiritlessly, "I have failed in everything. I even had no luck as a beggar. Everyone said I was strong and should work — that is, when they didn't curse or shout at me. I don't know why."

Zaita nodded. "Even that you can't grasp!"

"May God inspire you with some way to help me," the big man pleaded.

Zaita continued to examine him thoughtfully and, feeling his limbs, said decisively, "You are really strong. Your limbs are all healthy. What do you eat?"

"Bread if I can get it, otherwise nothing."

"Yours is really a giant's body, there's no doubt about it. Do you realize what you would be like if you ate as God's animals eat, on whom He lavishes good things?"

The man replied simply, "I don't know."

"Of course, of course. You don't know anything, we understand that. If you had had any sense you would be one of us. Listen, you oaf, there's nothing to be gained by my trying to twist your limbs."

A look of great melancholy came into the man's bullish face, and he would have burst out weeping again if Zaita had not spoken. "It would be very difficult for me to break an arm or a leg for you, no matter how hard I tried. Even then, you wouldn't gain anyone's sympathy. Mules like you only arouse indignation. But don't despair" (Dr. Booshy had been patiently waiting for this expression). "There are other ways. I'll teach you the art of imbecility, for example. You don't seem to lack any talent for that, so idiocy it will be. I'll teach you some ballads in praise of the Prophet."

The huge man's face beamed with delight and he thanked Zaita profusely.

Zaita interrupted him. "Why didn't you work as a highway-man?"

He replied indignantly, "I am a poor fellow, but I am good and I don't want to harm anyone. I like everyone."

Zaita commented contemptuously, "Do you wish to convert me to that philosophy?"

He turned to the other man, who was short and frail, and said delightedly, "Good material, anyway."

The man smiled and said, "Much praise to God."

"You were created to be a blind, squatting beggar."

The man seemed pleased. "That is because of the bounty of our Lord."

Zaita shook his head and replied slowly, "The operation is difficult and dangerous. Let me ask what you would do if the worst happened. Suppose you were really to lose your sight because of an accident or carelessness?"

The man hesitated, then replied unconcernedly, "It would be a blessing from God! Have I ever gained anything by my sight that I should be sorry to lose it?"

Zaita was pleased and commented, "With a heart like yours you can really face up to the world."

"With God's permission, sir. I will be eternally grateful to you. I will give you half what the good people give me."

Zaita shot a penetrating look at him and then said harshly, "I am not interested in talk like that. I want only two milliemes a day, besides the fee for the operation. I know, by the way, how to get my rights if you are thinking of getting away without paying."

At this point Dr. Booshy reminded him, "You didn't remember your share of the bread."

Zaita went on talking: "Of course… of course. Now, let's get down to planning the work. The operation will be difficult and will test your powers of endurance. Hide the pain as best you can…"

Can you imagine what this thin and meager body would suffer under the pounding of Zaita's hands?

A satanic smile played about Zaita's faded lips…

The company's premises in Midaq Alley produced a clamor which continued all day long. A number of workers carried out their jobs with only a short break for lunch, and there was a constant flow of goods in and out of the establishment, while large trucks rumbled noisily into Sanadiqiya Street and those adjoining Ghouriya and Azhar. There was also a steady stream of customers and tradesmen.

The company dealt with perfumes, wholesale and retail, and there was no doubt that the wartime cut in imports from India badly affected trade. However, the company managed to keep both its reputation and its position and, indeed, the war had doubled its activities and profits. The wartime situation convinced Salim Alwan of the wisdom of trading in commodities which previously had not interested him — for example, tea. Thus he had become active in the black market and profited heavily from it.

Salim Alwan always sat at his big desk at the end of the corridor leading off the central courtyard within the company premises, around which were the warehouses. Thus his position was central and he could observe all the activities of the company; he could easily watch his employees, the workmen, and the customers at the same time. For this reason he preferred this location to sitting alone in an office as most of his fellow businessmen did. He always maintained that a true businessman "must always keep his eyes open."

He truly approached the absolute ideal of a man of business; he was expert in his trade and also able to keep things moving. He was not one of the "new rich" the war produced. Mr. Alwan was, as he put it, "a merchant and son of a merchant." Previously, however, he was not considered rich; then the First World War had come along and he had emerged successful. This second war had so far been even more lucrative for his business and now he was very prosperous.

Salim Alwan was not without his worries; he felt he was fighting life without anyone to help him. True, his excellent health and vitality diminished these worries. However, he had to think of the future, when his life would end and the company would lose its director. It was unfortunate that not one of his three sons had come forward to help their father in his work. They were united in their efforts to avoid commerce and his attempts to dissuade them were useless. He had no other course — over fifty though he was — than to do the work himself.

No doubt he was responsible for this unhappy situation, for, in spite of his commercial mentality, he had always been kind and generous, at least in his own home and with his own family. His house was like a castle; handsome in appearance, with fine furniture and furnishings, and several servants. Moreover he had left his old house in Gamaliya for a fine villa in Hilmiya, raising his children in an atmosphere quite different from that of other merchants. This had no doubt instilled in them a contempt for merchants and trade. Unknown to their father, who was busy with his affairs, his sons had assimilated new ideals and standards, a result of their comfortable life and pleasant environment. When matters came to a head, they rebelled against his advice and even refused to enroll in the trade school, lest it be a snare for them. They had gone into law and medicine, and now one was a judge, the other an attorney, and the third a doctor at Kasr el-Aini Hospital.