Midaq Alley

17

Salim Alwan was sitting as usual at his desk one day when Umm Hamida came in to buy some things. He always made a point of welcoming her, but on this occasion his normal formal politeness was not enough. He invited her to sit in an armchair near him and sent one of his employees to buy the perfume she wanted. His kindness delighted Umm Hamida and she thanked him and blessed him profusely. If the truth were known this kindness was not particularly spontaneous, for Mr. Alwan had made an unalterable decision.

It is, after all, difficult for a man to have to live with his mind in a constant turmoil of indecision. It disturbed him deeply to see his whole life clouded with problems that he could not solve. He was well aware, too, of the distress this caused his sons. Yet he had no idea how to use his accumulated wealth, especially since the gossips said its cash value was likely to drop after the war. As for the matter of his title, whenever he managed to dismiss the matter, it kept coming back like an abscess. Another worry was his relationship with his wife and his fear that his youth and vitality were vanishing. Last but not least of his concerns was this emotion and desire of his which caused him so much anguish.

Now he realized the time had come when he must solve at least one of his problems, although he still could not decide which one. Eventually he decided he would settle the one that consumed him the most. He believed that when that one was settled, the other worries would also come to an end.

However, he was not unaware of the consequences. He knew that once he solved that problem, no less dangerous ones could emerge. Yet this was purely a matter of passion. The difficulties which stood in the way of his dreams now seemed trivial and he firmly told himself, "My wife has ceased her life as a woman and I am not the sort to enter into adultery at my age. Nevertheless, why should I be punished? Allah made things easy, why should we make them difficult?"

Thus he had made up his mind to satisfy his desires and there was no retreat. So it was that he had invited Umm Hamida to come and sit near him so that he could broach the vital matter to her. Mr. Alwan was still a bit apprehensive of speaking out, not because he felt any indecision or hesitancy, but because it was not easy to descend in one jump from his high position and suddenly bare his soul to a woman like Umm Hamida.

At that moment one of his employees entered carrying his famous green wheat and pigeon concoction on a tray. Umm Hamida saw it and a faint smile flickered across her lips, which he did not fail to notice. Alwan seized his opportunity and opened the conversation by speaking of the bowl. He tried to forget his dignity and revered position, and said to her in a slightly hurt tone, "No doubt this bowl of mine offends you?"

Umm Hamida was afraid that he had seen her smile and she replied hastily, "Heaven forbid! Why should you think that?"

In the same tone, Alwan went on: "It does cause me a lot of trouble…"

"Why should you say that?" asked Umm Hamida, having no idea what he meant.

Alwan, conscious that he was talking to a professional matchmaker, said quietly, "My wife doesn't approve of it…"

Umm Hamida was astonished at this and she recalled how all Midaq Alley was at one time wild for a bit of this food. So Alwan's wife was too puritanical, was she, and didn't approve of it? She repeated to herself the saying "People with fine voices often have no ears to enjoy their singing." Smiling, she muttered, quite unabashed, "That's very strange!"

Alwan shook his head in sad agreement. His wife had never approved of his eating this food, even when she was a young woman in the prime of life. She was of a conventional disposition and had a genuine dislike of any sort of abnormality. She had always tolerated her passionate and virile husband from fear and respect; in no way did she want to displease him. Nevertheless, she did not hesitate to advise him to give up a habit which she felt would eventually have serious consequences for his health. As she grew older, her patience decreased and her sensitivity about the matter increased. She now complained quite openly and would even leave home, apparently to visit her children. But actually, she was fleeing her husband.

Salim Alwan had naturally been annoyed and had accused her of frigidity and of being sexually exhausted. Their life was filled with constant friction, and yet her husband did not alter his passionate habits or show sympathy for her obvious weakness. He had come to consider her rebelliousness, as he called it, a good excuse to start a new married life.

Alwan shook his head sadly and muttered, sure that Umm Hamida would be quite aware of what he meant, "I've warned her I might marry someone else, and with God's permission, I intend to…"

Umm Hamida's interest was genuinely aroused and her professional instincts stirred. She gazed at him like a merchant examining a particularly important customer. However, she merely said, "You are thinking of going as far as that, Mr. Alwan?"

"I've been waiting for you to call for a long time and I was about to send someone to look for you. What's your opinion?"

Umm Hamida sighed, overcome with an indescribable delight. As she herself said later, she had merely gone to buy some perfume and had stumbled upon a treasure instead! She smiled and answered, "Well, Mr. Alwan, you are a very important person indeed. Men like you are rare these days. Whomever you choose will be a very lucky woman. I am entirely at your service; I have virgins and widows and divorcees, young and middle-aged, rich ones and poor ones. Choose whomever you like."

Alwan sat twisting his thick mustaches and feeling a little embarrassed. He turned toward her and said quietly, a smile on his lips, "There's no need for you to bother to conduct a search. The woman I want is in your own house!"

"In my house?" muttered Umm Hamida stupidly, her eyes opening wide in astonishment.

Alwan enjoyed her surprise and went on: "Yes, in your house, nowhere else. And of your own flesh and blood. I mean your daughter Hamida!"

She simply could not believe her ears. She sat dumbfounded. Yes, she had heard, from Hamida herself, that Mr. Alwan stared at her when she went out for walks, but to be attracted and to want marriage are two very different things. Who would ever believe that Mr. Salim Alwan, the owner of the company, wanted to marry Hamida?

"But we are not of your class, sir!" she said, her voice near hysteria.

Alwan replied politely, "You are a good woman and I am attracted to your lovely daughter. That's all there is to it. Are only the rich worthy of one's choice? What need have I for money when I have more than enough already?"

Umm Hamida's astonishment remained complete as she sat listening to him. Then she suddenly remembered something she had quite forgotten until now. She realized that Hamida was engaged. She let out a cry, which led Alwan to ask her, "What's wrong?"

"Forgive me. I forgot that Hamida is engaged! Abbas Hilu asked her to marry him before he went to Tell el-Kebir!"

Alwan's face fell and he turned red with rage. As though speaking the name of some vile insect, he shouted, "Abbas Hilu!"

"And we even recited the Qur'an to confirm it!" let out Umm Hamida in a wail of regret.

"That simpleton barber?" scowled Salim Alwan.

"He's working for the Army to earn more money. He left after we confirmed the engagement."

Alwan's anger at his exploded dream, and at Abbas as the cause, increased and merged into one. He commented bitingly, "Does that fool think the Army is a blessing that will last forever? Really, I don't see why you bring up this story."

"Well, I just remembered it. We never dreamed that you would do us such a great honor and so I had no reason to refuse his offer. Don't be angry with me, Mr. Alwan. You're the kind of man who only has to issue a command when you want something. We had no idea we'd be so privileged. Please don't be angry with me. Why are you so angry?"

Salim Alwan relaxed the expression on his face as he realized that he was angrier than he should be, as if Abbas was the aggressor and not the person against whom he intended to aggress. However, he went on: "Haven't I every right to be angry?" He paused suddenly and his face went pale. With deep emotion, he asked, "And did the girl agree? I mean, does she want him?"

"Oh, my daughter had nothing to do with it," answered Umm Hamida quickly. "All that happened was that Abbas came to me one day, with Uncle Kamil, and then we recited the Qur'an to seal the engagement."

"It's fantastic the way these young men act. Why, they scarcely have a penny to their names, yet they see no reason why they shouldn't get married and populate the whole alley with children who get their food from garbage carts. Let's forget the whole matter."

"A very good idea indeed, sir. I'll go now and be back soon, with God's help."

Umm Hamida stood up and bowed low over his hand in farewell. She picked up her perfume and went out.

Salim Alwan remained seated and perplexed, his face full of gloom, the steely glint in his eyes reflecting his annoyance and anger. So his first step had resulted in his stumbling. He spat on the floor as though expelling Abbas himself. Imagine a simple penniless barber trying to compete with him! He could hear the gossips now, with more than their usual venom, while his wife accused him of trying to abduct a girl hairdresser from a barbershop in Midaq Alley. Yes, that's what she would say, again and again, and everyone else would say the same. Eventually, the matter would reach his children, his friends and his enemies. He sat thinking of all this, although he never wavered for a moment. The battle had been fought before today and he had now set out to accomplish the matter, placing his trust in God. He sat twisting his mustaches and shaking his head in defeat. He would have Hamida and whatever people said would make no difference to him. Had they ever kept their tongues from gossiping about him before? Their filthy fable about his bowl of green wheat, for instance. Let them think what they liked. He would do as he pleased.

As for his family, well, his fortune was large enough to satisfy all of them and his new marriage would cost no more than a title would. His anger cooled now and his mood was much better; his thinking had greatly relieved his anxieties. He told himself that he must never forget that he was a man of flesh and blood; otherwise he would fail to do justice to himself and merely succumb to fears and worries, which would eventually devour him.

What good was his fortune if he were to deny himself what he wanted and what he could so easily have. Why should he be consumed with longing for a body that could be his at merely a nod of his head?