Sugar Street

125

Every Thursday after lunch Khadij a's entire family gathered in a fashion that scarcely ever changed. Assembled in the sitting room were the father, Ibrahim Shawkat, and the two sons, Abd al-Muni'ra and Ahmad. It was rare for Khadij a to be without some project, and she embroidered on a tablecloth while she sat with them. After a prolonged and heroic struggle against time, Ibrahim Shawkat had finally begun to show his age. His hair was turning white, and he looked a little bloated. Except for this, hishealth was still enviably good.

Smoking a cigarette, he took his place between his sons with calm assurance. His protruding eyes had their customary look of languid indifference. The two boys kept up a stream of conversation with each other, their father, or their mother, who participated without looking up from her work. She seemed a massive chunk of flesh. There was nothing in the domestic atmosphere to ruffle Khadij a's peace of mind. Since the death of her mother-in-law, there had been no one to challenge her control over her home. She performed her chores with unflagging zeal. As plumpness was the key to her beauty, she took extraordinary care to maintain her weight. She attempted to impose her guidance on everyone, especially her husband and their two sons. The man had given in, but Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad each went his own way, appealing to her love to free themselves from her domination. Some years before she had succeeded in convincing her husband to respect the precepts of Islam. The man had begun praying and fasting and had become accustomed to this. Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad had grown up with these observances, but for the past two years Alimad had ceased to perform his religious duties. He would dodge Ids mother's attempts to interrogate him or excuse himself on some pretext or other.

Ibrahim Shawkat loved and admired his sons greatly. He seized every opportunity to praise the string of successes that had brought Abd al- Muni'm to Law School and Ahmad to the final stage of his secondary education. Khadija also boasted about these achievements, saying, "This is all the fruit of my concern. If I had left the matter up to you, neither of them would have amounted to anything."

It had recently been established that, from want of practice, Khadija had forgotten how to read and write, and this discovery had made her the target of Ibrahim's jests. Finally her sons had suggested that they should teach her what she had forgotten in order to repay her for the helping hand she boasted of giving their education. Their proposal had made her a little angry but had also made her laugh a lot. She summed up her feelings about the situation in one sentence: "A woman does not need to read or write unless she's exchanging letters with a lover."

She appeared to be happy and content with her family, although she did not think that Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad ate enough. Their thinness enraged her, and she said disapprovingly, "I've told you a thousand times to use chamomile to improve your appetites. You must eat properly. Don't you see how well your father eats?"

Looking at their father, the two young men smiled. Ibrahim said, "Why don't you use yourself as the example? You eat like a food grinder."

Smiling, she replied, "I'll let them decide which of us to imitate."

Ibrahim protested, "Lady, your envious eye has injured me. That's why the dentist suggested I have my teeth extracted."

With a tender look in her eyes, she said, "Don't be upset. Once they're out, you won't have any more problems or pain, God willing."

Ahmad told her, "Our neighbor in the second-floor apartment would like to postpone payment of his rent until next month. He met me on the stairs and made that request."

Frowning at him, she asked, "What did you tell him?"

"I promised I'd speak to my father."

"And did you speak to your father?"

"I'm speaking to you now."

"We don't share the apartment with him. Why should he share our money? If we give him a break, the tenant in the first-floor apartment will follow his lead. You don't know what people are like. Don't get involved in things that don't concern you."

Glancing at his father, Ahmad asked, "What do you think, Papa?"

Ibrahim Shawkat smiled and said, "Spare me the headache. Talk to your mother___"

Ahmad addressed his mother again: "If we're lenient with a man in difficult circumstances, we won't go hungry."

Khadija said resentfully, "His wife has already spoken to me, and I agreed to let them pay later. So don't trouble your mind about it. But I explained to her that paying the rent is as obligatory as paying for food and drink. Is there anything wrong in that? I'm occasionally criticized for not making friends with women in the neighborhood, but when you know people the way I do, you praise God for solitude."

With a wink of his eye Ahmad asked, "Are we better than other people?"

Scowling, Khadija replied, "Yes … unless you know something about yourself that would make me think otherwise."

Abd al-Muni'm commented, "In his opinion, he's the best possible man, and his opinion is the only one that counts. All wisdom has been granted to him."

Khadija said sarcastically, "It's also his opinion that tenants should be able to lease apartments without paying the rent."

Laughing, Abd al-Muni'm said, "He's not convinced that some people should have absolute ownership rights to houses."

Shaking her head, Khadija remarked, "I pity such worthless ideas."

Ahmad glared at his brother, but Abd al-Muni'm shrugged his shoulders scornfully and said, "Straighten your mind out before you get angry."

Ahmad protested, "It would be better if we didn't try to debate each other."

"Right. Wait till you grow up."

"You're only a year older than me. No more than that…."

"A person a day older than you is a year wiser."

"I don't believe in that saying."

"Listen, there's only one thing that concerns me. It's for you to start praying with me again."

Khadija nodded her head sadly as she said, "Your brother's right. Usually when people grow up they grow wiser, but you … I seek refuge with God from you. Even your father prays and fasts. How could you have done this to yourself? I worry about it night and day."

In a powerful and profusely self-confident voice Abd al-Muni'm said, "To be blunt, his mind needs a thorough cleansing."

"It'sjust that…"

"Listen, Mother. This young man has no religion. This is what I've begun to believe."

Ahmad waved his hand as if angered and asked loudly, "Where do you get the right to judge a man'sheart?"

"Your acts betray your secret thoughts". Then, hiding a smile, he added, "Enemy of God!"

Without abandoning his assured composure, Ibrahim Shawkat said, "Don't make false accusations against your brother."

Looking at Ahmad but addressing Abd al-Muni'm, Khadija said, "Don't deprive your brother of the dearest thing a person can have. How could he be anything but a Believer? If only his mother's relatives wore turbans, they would be recognized as religious scholars. His maternal great-grandfather had a career in religion. When I was growing up everyone around me prayed devoutly and served God, as if we were living in a mosque."

Ahmad said sarcastically, "Like Uncle Yasin!"

A laugh escaped from Ibrahim Shawkat. Pretending to be annoyed, Khadija retorted, "Speak respectfully about your uncle. What's wrong with him? His heart is filled with belief, and our Lord guides him. Look at your grandfather and grandmother."

"And Uncle Kamal?"

"Your uncle Kamal is watched over by al-Husayn. You don't know anything."

"Some people don't know anything…."

Abd al-Muni'm asked defiantly, "Even if everyone else neglected their religion, would that be any excuse for you?"

Ahmad replied calmly, "In any case, you shouldn't worry about it. You won't ever be held responsible for my sins."

Then Ibrahim Shawkat said, "Stop your quarreling. I wish you could be like your cousin Ridwan."

Khadija stared at him disapprovingly. It was more than she could bear that anyone would prefer Ridwan to her sons. To explain himself, Ibrahim said, "That young man has contacts with top politicians. He's bright and seems guaranteed a glorious future."

Khadija said furiously, "I don't agree with you. Ridwan's an unlucky boy, like anyone else who has been deprived of his mother's care. The fact is that 'Mrs.' Zanuba thinks nothing of him. I'm not deceived by her good treatment of him. It's simply a political stratagem like those of the English. For this reason the poor boy has no real home. He spends most of his time away from the apartment. And his contacts with important men are meaningless. He's a student in the same year as Abd al-Muni'm. What's the point of this weighty remark? You don't know how to pick your examples."

Ibrahim gave her a look, as if to say, "It's impossible for you ever to agree with me". Then he continued with his explanation: "Things aren't the same for young people today. Politics has changed everything. Each important figure surrounds himself with young proteges. An ambitious youth wishing to make his way in the world must find a patron he can rely on. Your father's status is based on his close ties to important men."

Khadija said haughtily, "My father is sought out by people eager to get to know him. He doesn't curry favor with people. As for politics, it doesn't concern my boys. If they had known their uncle who sacrificed his life for the nation, they would learn for themselves what I mean. It's 'Long live so-and-so' or 'Down with someone else,' while people's sons are perishing. If Fahmy had lived, he would be one of the greatest judges today."

Abd al-Muni'm said, "Everyone has to find his own way. We won't imitate anyone. If we wanted to be like Ridwan, we could be."

Khadija said, "That's right!"

Ibrahim told Abd al-Muni'm, "You're just like your mother … no difference at all between you."

There was a knock on the door and the servant came to announce the tenant from the first floor. As she started to rise, Khadija said, "I wonder what she wants… If she wishes to put off paying her rent, it will take all the policemen from the Gamaliya station to separate us."