Naguib Mahfouz - Sugar Street

The officer inquired, "Do you know Abd al-Muni'm Ibrahim Shawkai: and Ahmad Ibrahim Shawkat?"

"I'm their uncle…."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a teacher at al-Silahdar School."

"We have orders to search the house."

"But why? What charges are you bringing against me?"

"We are searching for subversive tracts belonging to the two young men. We think they may have hidden them here."

"Sir, I can assure you that there are no subversive tracts in our house. But you can search all you want."

Kamal noticed that the commanding officer stationed his men on the roof and the staircase and was the only one who actually entered the living quarters. Instead of turning the house upside down in his search, the officer was content to survey the rooms, casting a superficial glance at Kamal's desk and bookcases. Regaining his composure, Kamal felt enough at ease with the officer to ask, "Did you search their home?"

"Naturally". Then, after a brief moment, the man added, "They are currently being detained at the station."

Kamal asked in consternation, "Has anything been proven against them?"

The man replied with unexpected delicacy, "I hope matters won't reach that point. But the inquiry will be conducted by the prosecutor's office."

"I'd like to thank you for your thoughtfulness."

The officer smiled and replied quietly, "Don't forget that I didn't ransack your house."

"Yes, sir. I don't know how to thank you."

Turning toward Kamal, the man asked, "Aren't you the brother of the late Fahmy?"

Kamal's eyes grew wide with astonishment as he asked, "Yes. Did you know him?"

"We were friends, God rest his soul."

Kamal said hopefully, "What a happy coincidence!" Offering the man his hand, he added, "Kamal Ahmad Abd al-Jawad."

The officer shook the proffered hand and said, "Hasan Ibrahim, commanding officer of the Gamaliya station. I started there as a second lieutenant and have rotated back to it as the commanding officer". Shaking his head, he continued: "Our orders were unequivocal. I hope the boys won't be found guilty of anything."

The sound of Khadija's voice carried to them as she wept and then narrated to her mother and Aisha the events of the evening. The officer remarked, "That's their mother. With her amazing memory she recognized me and reminded me of your late brother — but only after a thorough search of the house had already been conducted. See what you can do to put her mind at ease."

They walked down the stairs side by side. As they passed the second floor, Aisha exploded from the door in an obvious rage. Glaring harshly at the officer, she railed at him, "Why do you arrest people's children for no reason at all? Can't you hear their mother weeping?"

Shocked by this attack, the officer glanced quickly at her, before lowering his gaze politely. He replied, "They'll be set free soon, God willing."

After they were some distance beyond the apartment, he asked Kamal, "Your mother?"

Smiling sadly, Kamal replied, "No, my sister! She's only forty-four, but the misfortunes she's suffered have broken her."

The officer turned toward him as if stunned. Kamal felt the man was about to ask something. But after hesitating for a moment, he apparently changed his mind. They shook hands in the courtyard, and before the officer departed, Kamal asked, "Would it be possible for me to visit them in jail?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Kamal returned to join his mother and sisters in the sitting room. He said, "I'm going to visit them tomorrow. There's no reason to be afraid. They'll be released once they've been questioned."

Khadija did not seem to be able to stop crying. Aisha shouted hysterically, "Don't weep! That's enough! They'll come back to you. Didn't you hear?"

Khadija moaned: "I don't know. I don't know. My dear boys are in prison!"

Amina's sorrow had evidently struck her dumb. In a reassuring tone Kamal observed, "The officer in charge knows us. He was one of Fahmy's friends and was incredibly restrained when searching our house. He'll certainly treat them kindly."

The mother raised her head inquisitively, and Khadija snarled resentfully, "Hasan Ibrahim! Don't you remember him, Mother? When I told him I was Fahmy's sister, what did he say but 'We're just following orders, lady.' Orders, my eye!"

The mother glanced at Aisha, who gave no sign of recognizing the name. Taking Kamal aside, Amina said with obvious anxiety, "I don't understand anything, son. Why were they arrested?"

After pondering what to say Kamal replied, "The government mistakenly suspects that they have been working against it."

Shaking her head anxiously, she remarked, "Your sister says they arrested Abd al-Muni'm because he's a Muslim Brother. Why are they arresting Muslims?"

"The government thinks they are working against it."

"And Ahmad? She said he's… I've forgotten the word, son."

"A Communist? Like the Muslim Brethren, Communists are suspected by the government."

"Communists? What community is this? The Shi'ah community of Ali?"

Hiding his smile, Kamal answered, "The Communists aren't a religiou;; community like the Shi'ah. They're a political party opposed, to the government and the English."

Perplexed, she sighed and inquired, "When will they be set free? Look at your poor sister. The government and the English can't they find some other place to search besides our afflicted house?"

The dawn call to prayer was reverberating through the otherwise silent city when the commanding officer of the police station for al-Gamaliya summoned Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad to his office. Escorted by an armed policeman, they appeared before his desk. After ordering the policeman to leave, the officer examined the young men with interest. Looking at Abd al-Muni'm, he asked, "Your name, age, and profession?"

Abd al-Muni'm replied calmly and resolutely, "Abd al-Muni'm Shawkat, twenty-five, an investigator in the Ministry of Education's Bureau of Investigations."

"How can you, a lawyer, break the laws of the state?"

"I haven't broken any law. We work publicly — writing in the papers and preaching in the mosques. People who spread God's word have nothing to fear."

"Haven't suspicious meetings been held at your house?"

"Certainly not. There have been some ordinary gatherings, when friends assemble to exchange opinions and advice in order to gain a deeper understanding of our religion."

"Is agitation against allied nations a goal of these meetings?"

"Do you refer to Britain, sir? That deceitful enemy? A state that crushes our honor with its tanks cannot be considered an ally."

"You're an educated man. You should have realized that wartime conditions justify certain restrictions."

"I realize that Britain is our principal enemy in the world."

Turning to Ahmad, the officer asked, "You?"

With the suggestion of a smile on his lips, Ahmad replied, "Ahmad Ibrahim Shawkat, twenty-four, an editor with The New Man magazine."

"I have alarming reports here about your extremist articles. Besides, it is generally accepted that your magazine has a bad reputation."

"My articles have never exceeded the bounds of a defense of the principles of social justice."

"Are you a Communist?"

"I'm a socialist. Many deputies in parliament support socialism. The law itself does not censure a Communist for his ideas, as long as he does not resort to violent means."

"Should we have waited until the meetingsheld at your apartment every evening erupted into violence?"

Wondering whether the authorities had unearthed the secret of his tracts, and nighttime talks, he replied, "I entertain only close friends in my home. There are never more than four or five visitors a day. Violence has been the furthest thing from our thoughts."