Naguib Mahfouz - Sugar Street

"Your medicine, master."

Kitch en fragrances wafted from the black dress of this woman who in the course of time had become one of the family. Picking up the glass, he poured out enough water to fill the cup halfway and then, after removing the medicine bottle's stopper, added four drops to the water in his cup. In anticipation of the taste, he made a face and then swallowed.

"May it bring you health, master."

"Thanks. Where's Aisha?"

"In her room. May God grant her forbearance."

"Call her, Umm Hanafi."

In her room or on the roof… what difference did it make? The radio's cheerful songs were in ironic contrast to the mournful atmosphere of this otherwise silent dwelling. Al-Sayyid Ahmad had been confined to the house for only the last two months. A year and four months had passed since Na'ima's death. When the mari had asked to listen to the radio in view of his urgent need for entertainment, Aisha had replied, "Of course, Papa. May God find ways to console you for being forced to stay home."

Heanng the rustling of a dress, he turned and saw Aisha approaching in her black attire. Although the weather was warm, she had a black scarf wrapped around her head. Her fair complexion had a strange blue cast to it. "That's a symptom of her depression," he thought. Then he said tenderly, "Get a chair and sit with me a little."

But she did not budge and replied, "I'm comfortable like this, Papa."

The recent past had taught him not to try to make her change her mind about anything. "What were you doing?"

A blank expression on her face, she answered, "Nothing, Papa."

"Why don't you go out with your mother and visit the blessed shrines? Wouldn't that be better than staying at home alone?"

"Why should I visit shrines?"

He seemed astonished by her response but said calmly, "You could entreat God for solace."

"God is with ushere in our house."

"Of course. I mean you shouldn't spend so much time alone, Aisha. Visit your sister. Visit the neighbors. Find some amusements for yourself."

"I can't bear to see Sugar Street. I have no friends. I don't know anyone anymore. I can't stand to visit people."

Turning his face away, the man said, "I want you to be brave and to take care of your health."

"My health!" she exclaimed almost incredulously.

He persisted: "Yes. What's the point of sorrow?"

In spite of her agitated condition, she did not abandon the decorum she observed with him and replied, "What's the point of life, Papa?"

"Don't say that. God's reward for you will be great."

Bowing her head to hide the tears in her eyes, she replied, "I want to go to Him to receive my reward. It won't come in this world, Papa". She started to withdraw quietly but before leaving the balcony stopped a moment as if she had remembered something and asked, "How's your health today?"

He smiled and answered, "Fine, praise God, but what's important is your health, Aisha". Then she was gone.

How could he relax in this house? He glanced down at the street again, and finally his eyes came to rest on Amina, who was returning from her daily circuit. Modestly attired in a coat and a white veil, she proceeded at a slow pace. How she had aged! Since he remembered that her mother had lived to a ripe old age, he was not especially concerned about his wife'shealth. But here she was at sixty-two looking at least ten years older than that.

It was quite a while before she arrived and asked him, "How are you, master?"

Raising his voice loud enough to allow the desired sharpness to reverberate in it, he said, "How are you yourself? God's will be done! You've been out since early this morning, lady."

She smiled and replied, "I visited the shrines of al-Sayyida Zaynab and of al-Husayn. I prayed for you and for everyone else."

Now that she was home, his composure and peace of mind returned, for he sensed he could request anything he wanted without hesitation. "Is it right for you to leave me alone all this time?"

"You gave me permission, master. I haven't been gone long. It's necessary, master. We're badly in need of prayer. I entreated my master al-Husayn to give you back your health so you can go and come as you wish. And I also prayed for Aisha and the others."

She got a chair and sat down. Then she asked, "Have you taken your medicine, master? I told Umm Hanafi…"

"I wish you had told her to do something nicer for me than that."

"It's for your good health, master. At the mosque I heard a beautiful talk by Shaykh Abd al-Rahman. Master, he spoke about atonement for sin and how misdeeds can be wiped away. His words were very beautiful, master. I wish I could remember as well as I once did."

"Your face is pale from your walk. It's just a matter of time before you become one of the doctor's regular patients."

"Lord protect us! I only go out to visit the tombs of members of the Prophet's family. So how could any harm befall me?" Then she added, "Oh, master, I almost forgot. They're talking about the war everywhere. They say that Hitler has attacked."

The man asked with interest, "Are you certain?"

"I heard it not once but a hundred times. 'Hitler attacked,… Hitler attacked.'"

To make her think she was not telling him anything he did not already know, the man observed, "People have been expecting this from one moment to the next."

"God willing, it won't affect us, will it, master?"

"Did they say only Hitler and not Mussolini? Didn't you hear that other name too?"

"Just Hitler's name."

"Will it affect us?" he asked himself. "Who knows?"

"May our Lord be gracious to us," he said. "If you hear someone selling a special edition of al-Balagh or al-Muqattam newspapers, buy one."

"It's like the days of Kaiser Wilhelm and the zeppelin. Do you remember, master? Glory to God the everlasting."

As Khadija later observed, it was a "momentous" family reunion. When the door of her apartment opened, Yasin, wearing a white linen suit with a red rose in the lapel and brandishing an ivory handled fly whisk, filled the aperture. His huge body almost created a draft of air as he advanced, followed by his son, Ridwan, who had on a silk suit of exemplary elegance and beauty. Then came Zanuba in a gray dress, radiating the modest decorum that had become an inseparable part of her. Finally there was Karima in an exquisite short-sleeved blue dress that revealed the uppermost part of her chest. Although she was only thirteen, her virginal femininity had blossomed and she seemed outrageously attractive. In the parlor they were received by Khadija, Ibrahim, Abd al-Muni'm, and Ahmad.

Yasin wasted no time in asking, "Have you ever heard anything like this? My son is secretary to the chief of the ministry where I'm employed as a section head in the records office. The very earth rises to greet him when he passes, while people are barely aware of my existence."

Although his words were couched in the language of protest, his proud satisfaction with his son was obvious to everyone. After receiving his degree in May, Ridwan had been appointed a secretary to the cabinet minister in June, starting out in the civil service at the sixth level, when most college graduates joined at the eighth as clerks. Abd al-Muni'm, who had received his degree at the same time, still did not know what the future held in store for him.

Feeling a bit jealous, Khadija smiled and said, "Ridwan is a friend of the men in power, but children are only as good as their parents."

With a delight he did not succeed in concealing, Yasin asked, "Didn't you see the photograph of him and the minister in al-Ahram yesterday? It's gotten so we don't know how to address him."

Pointing to Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad, Ibrahim Shawkat said, "These boys are a disappointment. They waste their lives in bitter but meaningless debates, and their best contacts are Shaykh Ali al-Manufi, who runs the al-Husayn Primary School, and that scum of the earth Adli Karim, publis her of a journal called Light or Smut or who knows what."