Naguib Mahfouz - The day the leader was killed

“The path ahead is clear and all you have to do is think lucidly.”

“An excellent piece of advice, sir,” I said as I was getting ready to go.

“I’ve been asked to invite you…that is, my sister has invited us to a small tea party to celebrate her moving into the new villa,” he said hurriedly.

Indeed the path is clear.

“I’d be happy to go,” I said.

I accepted the invitation, although the idea of selling myself had not occurred to me. I went there around six o’clock on a hot and humid evening. The villa was not far from Anwar Allam’s building: small and elegant, with a garden full of pink and purple rose bushes. I sat in a brand-new rose-colored living room, with canvas pictures hanging on the wall. Gulstan sat between us, clad in a white dress that accentuated her attractive silhouette.

“The party’s limited to just ourselves, for you have been invited as a member of the family,” said Anwar Allam.

“He’s the only one of your colleagues whose manners I like,” said Gulstan softly. I thanked her.

“Indeed, you’re quite right,” said Anwar Allam with a laugh.

We had tea and! swalloweda big piece of the cake.

“There’s talk about the aftereffects of sectarian strife,” he went on saying.

“What does this mean?” inquired Gulstan.

“Where’s the government?” I asked in turn.

“These are uncertain times,” answered Anwar.

“That poor generation of yours has all my sympathy,” said Gulstan with compassion, looking my way.

“And rebuke,” I added, irritated.

“Excuse me for a few minutes, I have some urgent phone calls to make,” said Anwar, standing up.

When we were alone, she drew close to me and murmured gently:

“People like you deserve the very best.”

I was wondering what she meant by that. Politics or my own personal tragedy?But I was suddenly aroused by the proximity of her ripe and attractive body. I stared at it with a look of utter shamelessness. All I wanted at the moment was to have her as my mistress.

“I’d like to be alone with you,” I whispered, my throat parched.

“I’d be delighted to be alone with a decent person like you,” she said sedately.

The electric current running through me came to a sudden halt. She was saying a great deal in the least possible words. Although she had put an end to my reckless dreams on the one hand, yet she seemed to beckon me on the other.

“I respect myself and appreciate those who respect themselves,” she said in an attempt to clarify herself.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” I said, concealing my disappointment.

“You’re welcome to come here at any time. I know a great deal about you, but you hardly know anything about me.”

Randa Sulayman Mubarak

He wants to get married as soon as possible and I can find no excuse for procrastinating. We decided to hold the celebrations in Gulstan Hanem’s villa. My father, though, was unable to attend. It was a silent party. The buffet was excellent and it was attended by the company’s top executives and a group of businessmen. I wore the inevitable mask of joy. In fact, I had long prayed — and was determined — to succeed. I had a genuine desire to try to make it work and to adjust to my new life. What I dreaded most was the possibility of finding Elwan among the guests, but he was not there.Although I was not attracted to him, I did not find him altogether repulsive. Imagine if Elwan had been the bridegroom tonight. What would he have done? I lived my whole life imagining I could not give myself to anyone but him. But, there it is, reality dictates a different set of options. Suffice it that I now feel that I could come to love Anwar one of these days.

In the days that followed, there was an uninterrupted stream of well-wishers, particularly on my side of the family. But what about these men?They come bearing gifts. We welcome them and offer them drinks. Night after night, this wretched stream of men, and some of them are most persistent. I was worn out by these permanent fixtures and by having to exert painstaking efforts at being courteous.

“You’ve so many friends in the business world!” I told him.

“Actually, they are our future,” he replied with a telling bluntness.

“What do you mean?” I inquired, perplexed.

“My job is worthless except in the eyes of a young employee. Our real future is in the private sector, in the intelligent gamble which enables a person to move up from one class to another. So spare no efforts in making them feel at home!”

These, then, are business calls! I did not feel comfortable.

“I had been given to understand that you were financially secure,” I said.

“Only in this sense.Other than that there’s no sense of security for anyone with this perpetual rise in prices!” he answered blatantly. I was totally dumbfounded while he went on excitedly:

“God won’t forgive you if you don’t amass an incredible fortune under these circumstances.”

“Isn’t it enough to have what will allow us to live comfortably?”

“Comfortably?We’re in a merciless rat race, my dear.”

Here, then, is a new person emerging, with amazing rapidity, from behind that other person. He will not hear of patience nor will he be satisfied with rising gradually. As for my reactions, they’re beside the point. He’s very simply saying: That’s me, pure and simple, with no retouches. How about that? He sees only his own ambitions in this world, and those are his sole concern. He prostrates himself before them in prayer a hundred times a day. It’s as though I have no existence apart from the role I may be able to play in his broader strategy. Even those false pretenses of his, he’s no good at them, and doesn’t even seem to care. He’s a total surprise to me, a colossal surprise which strikes me like a thunderbolt. Love is only a thing of the moment. I soon experienced an inconsolable sense of disappointment. I had sold myself for nothing. Or maybe things are even worse than that. I am ashamed to confess my disappointment. I was deluded into thinking that I was, to say the least, an end, and I now discover that I am no more than simply a means to an end, quite worthless other than my function as such. My job here is to hecourteous, to entertain, and offer drinks. He was not even satisfied with that, and soon informed me that he could no longer postpone his evening duties and that I would myself have to be responsible for receiving and entertaining guests.

“It’s an extension of your public relations job,” he said with a laugh.

“But there’s nothing in common between those people and myself,” I objected.

“It’s not important. Suffice it that you are eloquent, intelligent, and cultured. We’re partners and are supposed to substitute for one another, particularly when there’s ultimately much to gain from it.”

“This is the language of the market. I never thought I would have to deal with it!” I said sharply — the first sharp words uttered during our honeymoon.

“The sooner, the better,” he said with a smile.

Biting sarcasm.I felt that my experience was rapidly proving to be a failure. I found myself amid men who were drinking, laughing boisterously, leaping to break all boundaries. I could hear a dirty joke now and felt a wave of irritation and anger surging up within me.

“Enough!” I said coldly.

They looked at me gloomily.

“Enough drinking!”I said roughly.

“Were we being impolite?” asked one of them.

“It seems so!” I answered coldly.

“Is this an indication that we should leave?”

“Definitely!”I said, growing angrier.

I was in the sorriest of states as I stood waiting, tormented by misgivings and apprehensions. When he returned around midnight, he turned pale as soon as he set eyes on me, and asked: