Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley

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Considered by many to be Mahfouz's best novel,  Midaq Alley centers around the  residents of one of the hustling, teeming back alleys of Cairo. No other novel so vividly evokes the  sights and sounds of the city. The universality and  timelessness of this book cannot be denied.

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Thrashing her hands in the air, she answered, "It's about your son's disgraceful conduct! Catch him before he goes and leaves us. He is fed up with us!"

Kirsha brought the palms of his hands together violently and, shaking his head in anger and disgust, roared, "You want me to leave my work just for that? You want me to climb a hundred stairs just for that? Oh, you miserable pair, why on earth should the government punish anyone who kills off people like you?"

Gazing first at the mother and then at the son, he continued: "Our Lord has obviously afflicted me with both of you as some sort of punishment. What has your mother been saying?"

Hussain remained silent. His mother, as quietly as her short patience permitted, explained, "Don't lose your temper; this is an occasion which calls for wisdom and not temper. He has bundled his clothes and plans to go away and leave us…"

Scarcely believing his ears, Kirsha gazed at his son with angry scorn and asked, "Have you gone out of your mind, you son of an old hag?"

His wife's nerves were so on edge that she could not restrain from shouting, "I called you in to deal with him, not to call me names…"

Turning angrily toward her, he shouted, "Were it not for your congenital insanity your son would not have gone off his head!"

"God forgive you. All right, so I'm a lunatic and so were my parents. Let's forget all about that. Just ask him what is on his mind."

Kirsha stared fixedly at his son and spat out his question, sending spray in all directions, "Why don't you answer, you son of an old hag? Do you really intend to go away and leave us?"

Normally the young man would have been careful not to antagonize his father. He had, however, definitely made up his mind to leave his old way of life no matter what the price. Therefore he did not hesitate, especially since he considered his staying or leaving to be entirely within his own rights which no one could deny. He spoke quietly and with determination: "Yes, Father!"

Controlling his anger, Kirsha asked, "And what for?"

"I want to lead a different life," answered Hussain after a little thought.

Kirsha gripped his chin and shook his head sarcastically. "Yes, I understand that. You want to lead a life more suitable to your position! All dogs like you, brought up deprived and starving, go mad when they get money in their pockets. Now that you have money from the British, it's only natural that you should want to lead another life, more appropriate to your lordship's position!"

Hussain suppressed his rage and replied, "I have never been a hungry dog, as you describe me, because I grew up in your house and your house has never known hunger, thanks be to God! All I want is to change my way of life and this is my undeniable right. There is absolutely no need for your anger and sarcasm."

Kirsha was stunned. His son had always enjoyed a free life and he had never asked what he did. Why should he want to start a new life elsewhere? Kirsha loved his son, in spite of quarrels between them. He loved him, but the circumstances and atmosphere had never allowed him to express his love. He always seemed overcome with rage, exasperation, and a desire to curse. For a long time he had almost completely forgotten that he loved his only son, and at this particular moment, when the young man was threatening to leave home, his love and sympathy vanished behind a veil of anger and exasperation. The matter seemed to him a battle in which he must engage. For these reasons he spoke to him in tones of bitter irony: "You have your money to spend as you wish. You can go off and enjoy yourself with drunkards, hashish addicts, or pimps. Have we ever asked you for a penny?"

"Never, never. I am not complaining about that."

In the same bitter tone his father now asked, "And that covetous woman, your mother, never satisfied unless her eyes are feasting on filth, has she ever taken a penny from you?"

Blinking with embarrassment, Hussain replied, "I said I am not complaining about that. The whole point is that I want a different life. Why, many of my friends even live in houses that have electricity!"

"Electricity? So, it's for the sake of electricity that you want to leave home? Thanks be to God that your mother, for all her scandals, has at least kept our house safe from electricity!"

At this point Mrs. Kirsha broke her silence and wailed, "He keeps humiliating me! O God, by the murderous wrongs done to Hassan and Hussain…"

Her son went on: "All my friends live the modern way. They have all become 'gentlemen,' as they say in English."

Kirsha's mouth opened wide in amazement, his thick lips exploding to reveal his gold teeth. "What did you say?" he asked.

Scowling, Hussain made no reply. His father went on: "Galman? What's that? A new type of hashish?"

"I mean a neat, clean person," he muttered.

"But you are dirty, so how can you expect to be clean… Oh, galman!"

Hussain was now thoroughly annoyed and replied emotionally, "Father, I wish to live a new life. That is all there is to it. I want to marry a respectable girl!"

"The daughter of a galman!"

"A girl with respectable parents."

"Why don't you marry the daughter of a dog like your father did?"

"May God have mercy on you! My father was a learned, pious man," said Mrs. Kirsha, groaning in disgust.

Kirsha turned his pale face toward her and commented, "A pious, learned man indeed! He recited the Qur'an at burials! Why, he would recite a whole chapter for a penny!"

"He knew the Qur'an by heart and that's all that counts!" she declared, pretending to be offended.

Kirsha now turned away from her and moved several steps toward his son, until they were only an arm's length apart. Kirsha said, in his terrifying voice, "Well, we have had enough talking and I can't waste any more time on two lunatics. Do you really want to leave home?"

"Yes," answered Hussain shortly, summoning all his courage.

Kirsha stood looking at him. Then he suddenly flew into a rage and slapped Hussain hard in the face with the palm of his hand. His son caught the heavy blow and it shocked and enraged him. He backed away, shouting, "Don't you hit me! Don't you touch me! You'll never see me after today!"

His father charged again, but his mother stood between them, taking the blows herself. Kirsha stopped striking out and yelled, "Take your black face away from me! Never come back here again. As far as I'm concerned, you have died and gone to hell!"

Hussain went to his room, took his bundle, and, with one jump, was down the stairs. Taking no notice of anything, he rushed through the alley and, before he passed into Sanadiqiya Street, he spat violently. His voice quivering in anger, he yelled, "Bah! God curse the alley and all who live in it."

15

Mrs. Saniya Afify heard a knock on the door. She opened it and discovered, with indescribable pleasure, Umm Hamida's pock-marked face before her.

"Welcome, welcome to my dearest friend!" she cried as though from the bottom of her heart.

They embraced affectionately, or at least so it seemed, and Mrs. Afify led her guest into her living room and told the servant to make coffee. They sat side by side on a sofa, and the hostess took out two cigarettes from her case, which they lit and sat pleasurably smoking.

Mrs. Afify had suffered the pangs of waiting ever since Umm Hamida promised to try to find a husband for her. It was surprising that, having lived patiently for many years as a widow, she could now scarcely bear this period of waiting, short though it was. Throughout the interval, she had made frequent visits to the marriage brokers. The latter had never stopped making her promises and raising her hopes. Eventually she became sure the woman was deliberately delaying in order to extract a reward larger than that agreed upon. Despite this, Mrs. Afify had been most generous and kind toward her, letting her off paying rent for her flat, giving her several of her own kerosene coupons, as well as her clothing ration, not to mention a dish of sweets she had commissioned Uncle Kamil to make for her.

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