Nael Eltoukhy - Women of Karantina

Ali too was beset by looks of wonderment. How is it that their reputation has spread through the entire population of Alexandria in a year or less? No one can say. The amazing thing was that Ali was a coward. Little things still frightened him. The government, for instance. He still believed in little things too. The bond of brotherhood, for example. And he still avoided little things. Like talking about that day. Until, that is, the most important event in his life occurred: a little phone call from Cairo. His brother Mustafa on the line, asking if he could pay a visit. Ali assented. Mustafa had lunch with him in his apartment in Camp Cesar.

They’re not leaving me be, Ali.

. .

Every ten minutes it’s the government at the door, asking about you.

. .

Keep clear, Ali.

. .

I’m begging you, keep clear, man. The police will have you.

And do what?

Look here. The store’s yours. It’s your father’s store, Ali. I just want you to sign over your rights. It’s only temporary, Ali, I swear by the Book, and then when the good Lord’s sorted everything out, it’ll go back to how it was before.

. .

The government will get you, brother. By all that’s holy, they’ll have you.

. .

Look, Ali. I brought you here. I made a pledge before God that I’d get you out of this mess and I kept my word. So now I’m promising you that I’ll bring you back again and I’ll cancel anything you sign, but please, on your son’s life, you have to get me out of this. This way, if anyone comes and asks me I can say I don’t know anything about you. The store’ll be mine and you’ll be in the clear. It’s for the government’s benefit, that’s all.

The following day Ali signs the rights over to his brother. He tells Abu Amira the whole story. Abu Amira gazes at him for a long time then says, Your brother’s cheated you, my friend. And Ali is certain that his brother has cheated him. But he needs to cling to some kind of hope. Abu Amira asks him to call Mustafa. He calls. No answer. Abu Amira persists: Call him, brother. Call him tomorrow, the day after, a month from now. He won’t answer. Ali calls him the next day, the day after that, a month later; he punches in the number like a lunatic and no one answers. Everything is shifting beneath Ali’s feet: the shop, the precious bond of brotherhood, his father’s memory. He goes back to Abu Amira. He tells him that he has lost everything, that his life is in danger and that he’s fed up with it all. Abu Amira breathes out cigarette smoke and says firmly: See here, brother. You’ve been made a fool of. You’ve been cheated big time, and a brother that cheats a brother is no brother at all. He leans in. He’s a brother who wants to die. Right? Right, Ali replies uncertainly: Right. And Abu Amira continues: Your brother’s going to be killed, Ali, and we’ll kill him here, in Alexandria. Isn’t that God’s justice? Ali doesn’t answer. He stares into the distance. Abu Amira’s voice is the only thing that is surefooted now. And I don’t ask for a thing. You’ll have your inheritance, and no one will say a word to you, but anything you take I’ll have my share. I won’t say to you, I want such-and-such, and so on. These things belong to you. You have to settle it with your conscience. Right? Ali doesn’t answer. Abu Amira goes on, tenderly: Answer me, Ali. Am I right or am I wrong? And Ali’s voice comes back unsure, a whisper: Right, Abu Amira. Right.

Ali’s relationship with Mustafa was not a strong one. After their parents passed away, Ali suffered from the stubbornness of his brother, who always refused to sell the store — which at that time was not doing so well — and hand him his share, even when Ali’s need was greatest. When he fell in love with a girl who lived next door and wanted to propose, his older brother refused to buy Ali’s share of the business and he refused to stand by Ali. Worse, he repeatedly asked Ali to find himself a rented place so he might have the Ain Shams apartment to himself. Ali recalled Thana, the girl he’d once loved, telling him that Mustafa had met with her and asked that she encourage him to look for an apartment or otherwise get out of his life for good, and that if she didn’t then he, Mustafa, would have no obligations when it came to the pair of them. Even smuggling himself and Inji out of Cairo — the black thoughts streaming into Ali’s head — had been to that same end. Mustafa had taken over the apartment, the store, everything. Is this what your father would have wanted, Mustafa? Ali muttered to himself as he unfurled the rug to pray. When he had finished praying he was smiling at last. A great weight had shifted off his shoulders.

Umm Amira’s in Cairo. She returns, bringing Mustafa with her. She leads him by the hand, like a dumb beast. Riding with her in the train, he seems pleased. Looking forward to a nice little fuck when he gets to Alexandria. In the apartment in Karmouz she hands him over to Sousou, who offers him a joint and asks after Ali’s store. Mustafa senses a trap closing about him. He replies that the store is his and in his name. Sousou leans in toward him, smiling: See here, brother. You’re going to be killed. You’re not here for us to pussyfoot around. I want you to sign over your rights to the place right now. The bell rings. The lawyer enters. Mustafa signs. The lawyer exits. Sousou goes downstairs with Mustafa. They take a ferry to Sidi Gaber Station. The train is pulling in. Sousou chucks him under the train. He turns. With complete self-assurance he leaves the station. With complete self-assurance he calls Ali. It’s all good.

Before dawn prayers. Ali is performing the two sets you pray on entering the mosque, and Sheikh Hassan is praying some distance away. The prayers over, he approaches. The sheikh opens his Quran and starts to recite, but Ali has something to say:

I want to make a confession, Sheikh.

Yes, my son. Yes, yes.

I am a man weighed down with grievous sin.

God’s mercy encompasses all things, my son. All things.

I’m a murderer. A killer.

Ah! Ye are brought to slaughter though it be hateful to thee.

I’ve killed my mother’s son. I’ve killed my father’s son.

(He breaks down. Sheikh Hassan pats him. Sheikh Hassan recalls Mustafa, his old army comrade. He recalls his duty and fights back a stubborn tear.)

What do I do now, Sheikh?

(The sheikh is silent.)

The uncertainty is killing me.

Okay, do you want the truth? Or will you get upset?

(He looks at him.) The truth never upset anyone.

Keep to your path, young Ali. Keep going. Our Lord has chosen you. Will you tell him no?

(He looks at him with tear-filled eyes.)

No! Don’t you dare cry! Anything but that, Ali. You’ll upset me! That’s what’s known as disrespecting the Almighty and All Wise! Just suppose, for the sake of argument, your boss says I want you to work for me and help me out. You’ll scurry away and do what you’re told, won’t you? So what about when the King of Kings comes calling? Right, Ali?

A dawning light spreads across Ali’s face. The mosque’s servant gives the dawn call. “Prayer is better than sleep” swells through the room and Ali’s heart is filled with joy. He stoops over Sheikh Hassan’s hand and kisses it.

No one can say for certain just what took place in the days preceding this conversation, that is, the period between Mustafa’s murder and Ali’s confession. The best guess is that something is frightening Ali. Inji comforts him; murmurs that Mustafa had it coming. A crook, and he had it coming. But he is not so sure. She whispers that each and every Alexandrian is proud of him. She hears it and she knows. He hears it too, and he knows. But he weeps in front of her. She asks him to visit Abu Amira. Abu Amira makes you feel better. Go to him, baba. But he puts off the visit, day after day. This one time, Inji comes home. She doesn’t see him. She goes out onto the balcony. She finds him standing by the balcony wall measuring it against his leg. What are you up to, Ali? and he says nothing. Comes back at her with a piercing stare.