Naguib Mahfouz - Midaq Alley

"This is the first class in the school," he continued, "the department of Oriental dancing."

He opened the door and they entered. She saw a medium-sized room with a polished wooden floor. It was almost empty except for a number of chairs stacked on the left and a large clothes stand in one corner. Two girls sat on chairs next to one another, and in the middle of the room stood a young man in a billowing white silk gown with a sash tied around his waist. Their heads turned toward the new arrivals and they all smiled in greeting. Ibrahim Faraj called out in an authoritative tone that showed he was their master, "Good morning… this is my friend Titi."

The two girls nodded their heads, and the young man replied in a thin effeminate voice, "Welcome, mademoiselle."

Titi returned the greeting in some bewilderment, staring hard at the odd young man. His modest, shy expression and crossed eyes made him appear younger than his thirty-odd years. He wore heavy makeup and his curly hair gleamed with Vaseline. Ibrahim Faraj smiled and introduced him to her. "This is Susu, the dancing instructor."

Susu appeared to want to introduce himself in his own fashion, for he winked at the seated girls and they began clapping in unison. The instructor then broke into a dance with astonishing grace and lightness. Every part of his body was in motion, from eyebrows to toes. All the time he gazed straight ahead with a languid expression on his face, smiling wantonly and exposing his gold teeth. Finally he ended his performance with an abrupt quiver. He straightened his back and the two girls stopped clapping. Thus the instructor's special welcome to the new girl was over. He turned to Ibrahim Faraj and asked, "A new pupil?"

"I think so," he answered as he glanced at Titi.

"Has she ever danced before?"

"No, never."

Susu seemed delighted. "That's marvelous, Mr. Ibrahim. If she doesn't know how to dance I can mold her as I wish. Girls who are taught the wrong dancing principles are very difficult to teach."

He looked at Titi, then turned his neck right and left and said challengingly, "Or do you consider dancing just a game, my pet? I'm sorry, darling, but dancing is the art of all arts, and those who master it are richly rewarded for their efforts. Look…"

He suddenly began making his waist shake with incredible speed. He stopped, then asked her gently, "Why don't you take off your robe so I can see your body."

Ibrahim Faraj interrupted him quickly. "Not now… not now."

Susu pouted and asked, "Are you shy with me, Titi? Why, I'm only your sister Susu! Didn't you like my dance?"

She fought her embarrassment and tried to appear calm and indifferent. "Your dance was marvelous, Susu," she said, smiling.

The instructor clapped his hands and executed a brief dance step.

"What a nice girl you are," he exclaimed. "Life's most beautiful thing is a kind word. Does anything else last? One buys a jar of Vaseline and one never knows whether it will be for oneself or for one's heirs!"

They left the room, or rather the "department," and went into the corridor again. He then led her to the next room, feeling her eyes staring at him. They reached the door, and he whispered, "The department of Western dancing."

Hamida followed him inside. She now knew that retreat was impossible and that the past was completely erased. She was resigned to her fate; nevertheless, she wondered where happiness lay.

In size and decor the room was similar to the previous one, except that it was alive with noise and movement. A phonograph played music that was both strange and unpleasant to her ears. The room was filled with girls dancing together, and a well-dressed young man stood at one side, watching them closely and making comments. The two men exchanged greetings and the girls continued dancing, eyeing Hamida critically. Her eyes feasted on the room and the dancing girls, and she was dazzled by their beautiful clothes and skilled makeup. Now her feelings of longing and envy were mixed with those of humility. She turned toward Ibrahim Faraj and found him looking sedate and calm. His eyes radiated both superiority and power, and his face broadened into a smile as he turned and asked, "Do you like what you have seen?"

"Very much."

"Which type of dancing do you prefer?"

She smiled, but did not answer. They remained watching in silence and then left and went toward a third door. He had scarcely opened the door when she was staring wide-eyed in embarrassed amazement. In the middle of the room she saw a woman standing naked. Hamida stood frozen, unable to take her eyes off the spectacle. The naked woman stood looking at them calmly and boldly, her mouth parted slightly as though greeting them, or rather him. Then voices suddenly made her realize that there were other people in the room. To the left of the entrance door she saw a row of chairs, half of them occupied by beautiful girls either half dressed or almost naked. Near the nude woman stood a man in a smart suit holding a pointer, its end resting on the tip of his shoes. Ibrahim Faraj noticed Hamida's confusion and reassuringly volunteered, "This department teaches the principles of the English language…!"

Her look of utter bewilderment prompted him to make a gesture as though asking her to be patient. He then addressed the man holding the pointer. "Go on with the class, Professor."

In a compliant tone the man announced, "This is the recitation class."

Slowly he touched the naked woman's hair with the pointer. With a strange accent the woman spoke the word "hair." The pointer touched her forehead and she replied with "forehead." He then moved on to her eyebrows, eyes, her mouth, and then east and west and up and down. To each of his silent questions the woman uttered a strange word which Hamida had never heard before. Hamida asked herself how this woman could stand naked before all these people and how Ibrahim Faraj could look at her unclothed body with such calm indifference. Her uneasiness made her cheeks burn. She threw a quick glance at him and saw that he was nodding his approval of the intelligent pupil and murmuring, "Bravo… bravo…" Suddenly he turned to the instructor. "Show me a little lovemaking."

The teacher approached the woman speaking in English, and she replied phrase by phrase in English until Ibrahim Faraj interrupted. "Very good. Very good indeed. And the other girls?" he asked, gesturing toward the girls sitting on the chairs.

"Oh, they're getting better," he replied. "I keep telling them they can't learn a language just by memorizing words and phrases. The only way to learn is by experience. The taverns and hotels are the best schools. My lessons merely clarify information which may be muddled."

Gazing over at his girls, Faraj agreed. "You are right, quite right."

He nodded goodbye, took Hamida's arm, and they left the room together, walking down the long corridor toward their two rooms. Hamida's jaw was set and her eyes reflected her mind's confusion. She felt an urge to explode, just to relieve her disturbed feelings. He kept silent until they were inside the room, and then he spoke softly: "Well, I'm pleased that you have seen the school and its departments. I suppose you thought the curriculum a rather difficult one? Now you have seen the school's pupils and all of them, without exception, are less intelligent, less beautiful than you."

She shot a stubborn, challenging glance at him and asked coldly, "Do you think I am going to do the same as they?"

He smiled and patted her on the shoulder. Then he spoke: "No one has power over you and no one wants to force you into anything. You must make up your own mind. However, it is my duty to give you the facts and then the choice is yours. What luck that I found such an intelligent partner whom God has endowed with both determination and beauty. Today I tried to inspire your courage. Tomorrow, perhaps, you will give me inspiration. I know you quite well now. I can read your heart like a sheet of paper. I can say to you now in all confidence that you will agree to learn dancing and English and master everything in the shortest possible time. From the beginning I've been honest with you. I have refrained from lies and deception because I have quite honestly fallen in love with you. When we met, I knew you could never be mastered or deceived. Do what you like, my darling. Try the dancing or decide against it, be brave or not, stay or return. In any case, I have no power over you."