Midaq Alley

35

The morning light filled the alley and rays from the sun fell on the upper walls of Alwan's office and the barbershop. Sanker, the young cafe waiter, appeared and filled a bucket with water, which he sprinkled on the ground. The alley was turning another of the pages of its monotonous life, its inhabitants greeting the morning with their usual cries. Uncle Kamil was extraordinarily active for this early hour, standing in front of a dish of sweetmeat, serving it out to boys from the elementary school and filling his pocket with the small coins they gave him.

Opposite him the old barber was stropping his razors, and Jaada, the baker, went by bringing dough from houses nearby. Salim Alwan's employees were arriving now, opening doors and storerooms and disturbing the peace and quiet with their noise, which would continue all day long. Kirsha was squatting behind his till dreaming, splitting something between his front teeth, chewing it, and then washing it down with coffee. Near him sat Sheikh Darwish, silent and lost to the world. Early though it was, Mrs. Saniya Afify appeared at her window, to say goodbye to her young husband as he made his way down the alley, off to work in the police department.

This was the normal pattern of life in the alley, disturbed only occasionally when one of its girls disappeared or one of its menfolk was swallowed by the prison. But soon such bubbles subsided into its lakelike surface, calm or stagnant, and by evening whatever might have happened in the morning was almost forgotten.

The early morning, then, found the alley enjoying its quiet and peaceful life as usual, but at midmorning Hussain Kirsha arrived, his face filled with gloom and his eyes red with loss of sleep. He came slowly and heavily up the alley, went over to his father, and threw himself into a chair facing him. Without a greeting he said hoarsely, "Father, Abbas has been killed…"

Kirsha, who was just about to reprimand him for spending the whole night away from home, made no reply. He sat staring in astonishment at his son, shocked and motionless. Then, suddenly, in an annoyed tone, he demanded, "What did you say?"

Hussain, sitting staring fixedly ahead, replied huskily, "Abbas has been killed! The British murdered him…"

He moistened his lips and repeated all Abbas had told him the previous day on their walk. His voice full of emotion, he said, "He took me to show me a tavern that bitch had told him about. As we passed it, he saw her in the midst of a crowd of soldiers. He went wild, lost his temper, charged inside, and hurled a glass into her face before I knew what he was doing. The soldiers got mad and dozens of them beat him till he fell down senseless."

He clenched his fists tight and, gnashing his teeth in angry hate, went on: "It was hell… I couldn't help him. There were just too many damned soldiers… If only I could have gotten my hands on one of those damned soldiers."

"'All power and strength are in God's hands,'" quoted Kirsha, slapping his hands together. "What did you do with him?"

"The police arrived too late and put a cordon around the tavern. But what good could that do? They carried his body off to Kasr el-Aini Hospital and took the whore off for first-aid treatment."

"Was she killed?" asked Kirsha.

"I don't think so," answered Hussain. "Too bad; he lost his life in vain."

"And the British?"

Hussain replied sadly, "We left them surrounded by the police, and who can expect any justice from them?"

Kirsha once again brought his hands together in a slap and quoted, "'We are all God's creatures and to Him must we return.' Do Abbas' relatives know the news? Go out and tell his Uncle Hassan in Khurunfush so that God will perform His will."

Hussain got up and left the cafe. The news soon spread as Kirsha told his son's tale repeatedly to people who came to ask. Their tongues in turn circulated the story, along with many additions and variations.

Uncle Kamil staggered into the cafe in a dazed state and sat slumped in a chair staring straight ahead and mumbling. Suddenly he threw himself on the sofa and began weeping like a child. He could not believe it possible that the young man — who had teased him about buying a shroud — was no longer alive. When the news reached Hamida's mother she fled the house and streaked down the alley wailing out the news to everyone. Some said she wept for the killer and not the victim.

The person most deeply affected was Salim Alwan. His sorrow was not one of personal loss, but more the fact that death had forced its way into the alley. Now all his old worries and fears were redoubled. Dark thoughts and sick fantasies of the throes of death itself and of the grave all came back to him. Terror gripped him and he could no longer bear to sit still. He paced up and down in his office and walked into the alley to gaze mournfully at the shop which had been Abbas' for so many years. He had, due to the hot weather, been disregarding the doctor's orders to drink only warm water, but now he instructed that it always be served warm as before. He spent a full hour sitting in his darkened office trembling with fear and panic, his nerves shattered by Uncle Kamil's weeping…

This crisis too, like all the others, finally subsided and the alley returned to its usual state of indifference and forgetfulness. It continued, as was its custom, to weep in the morning when there was material for tears and resound with laughter in the evening. And in the time between, doors and windows would creak as they were opened and then creak again as they were closed.

In this particular period no matter of note occurred, except that Mrs. Saniya Afify decided to clear out the flat which Dr. Booshy had occupied before he went to jail and Uncle Kamil volunteered to carry Dr. Booshy's personal belongings and dental tools into his flat. In explanation it was said that Uncle Kamil preferred to share his dwelling with Dr. Booshy rather than continue to endure unaccustomed loneliness. No one blamed him and indeed they may well have considered the act a kindness on his part, for a term in prison was not the sort of thing to bring disgrace on a man in the alley.

During these days too, people talked about Umm Hamida's renewal of contact with her foster daughter, who was well on the way to convalescence and recovery. They gossiped about how the mother seemed to be hoping to reap some of the profits of this ample treasure.

Then the interest of the alley was suddenly really aroused when a butcher and his family came to occupy Dr. Booshy's flat. The family consisted of the butcher, his wife, seven sons, and an extremely beautiful daughter. Hussain Kirsha said she was as lovely as a new moon.

When, however, the time for Radwan Hussainy's return from the Hejaz came close, no one could think of anything but this. They hung up lanterns and flags and put a carpet of sand down over the street, all promising themselves a night of such joy and happiness that they would never forget it.

One day Sheikh Darwish saw Uncle Kamil joking with the old barber and, gazing up toward the roof of the cafe, he recited loudly:

"'Man is named only to be forgotten and there's never a heart that doesn't change.'"

Uncle Kamil's face clouded over and went pale and his eyes brimmed with tears. Sheikh Darwish shrugged his shoulders indifferently and went on, his eyes still fixed on the roof:

"'Let him who dies of love die sad; there's no good in any love without death.'"

Then he shuddered, sighed deeply, and continued:

"'O Lady of Ladies, O fulfiller of all needs… mercy… mercy, O People of the House! I will be patient so long as I live, for do not all things have their end?'"

"Oh yes, everything comes to its _nihaya.__"

"And the word for this in English is 'end' and it is spelled E-N-D…"