Sugar Street

126

Themuski was very congested. Already teeming with more than its normal pedestrian traffic, it was being flooded by currents of human beings from al-Ataba. The April sun cast fiery rays from a cloudless sky, and Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad were sweating profusely as they made their way through the throngs with more than a little effort.

Taking his brother's arm, Ahmad said, "Tell me what you feel."

Abd al-Muni'm thought a little and then replied, "I don't know. Death is always terrifying, especially a king's death. The funeral procession was more crowded than any I'd seen before. Since I didn't witness Sa'd Zaghlul's funeral, I can't compare the two. But it seems to me that most of the onlookers were mourning. Some of the women were weeping. We Egyptians are an emotional people."

"But I'm asking about your own feelings."

Abd al-Muni'm thought again while trying to keep from bumping into people. Finally he said, "I didn't love him. None of us did. So I wasn't sad. Yet I wasn't happy either. I followed the bier without feeling anything one way or the other about the man, but the thought of such a mighty person in a coffin affected me. A sight like that was bound to move me. God's sovereignty is universal. He is alive and eternal. I wish people would realize that. If the king had died before the political situation changed, great multitudes would have rejoiced. And you what are your feelings?"

Smiling, Ahmad said, "I have no love for tyrants, no matter what the political situation."

"That's excellent. But what about the sight of death?"

"I don't care for sick romanticism."

Abd al-Muni'm asked angrily, "Then were you pleased?"

"I hope to live long enough to see the world cleansed of all tyrants, no matter what the title or description."

They were silent for a time, fatigue having gotten the best of them. Then Ahmad asked, "What happens next?"

With the confident tone for which he was known, Abd al-Muni'm answered, "Faruq is just a boy. He's not as crafty or as vindictive as his father. If all goes well, with successful negotiations and a return of the Wafd to power, things will calm down and the era of c onspiracies will vanish. It seems that the future will be good."

"And the English?"

"If the negotiations are successful, they will become our friends and, consequently, the alliance between the palace and the English against the Egyptian people will be terminated. Then the king will be forced to respect the constitution."

"The Wafd Party is better than the other ones."

"No doubt… but it hasn't governed long enough to demonstrate its abilities fully. Experience will soon reveal its true potential. I agree it's better than the others, but our ambitions don't stop there."

"Of course not! I believe that rule by the Wafd Party is a good starting point for much greater developments. That's all there is to it. But will we really reach an agreement with the English?"

"If there isn't an agreement, then we'll return to a situation like that under Sidqy. Our nation has an inexhaustible supply of traitors. Their main task is always to discipline the Wafdists whenever we say no to the English. They are certainly watching for another opportunity, even if they're aligned with the nationalists at present. Sidqy, Muhammad Mahmud, and men like them are just waiting. That's the tragedy."

On reaching New Street they suddenly found themselves facing their grandfather, Ahmad Abd al-Jawad, who washeading toward the Goldsmiths Bazaar. They went over and greeted him respectfully.

He smiled and asked, "From where, to where?"

Abd al-Muni'm answered, "We were watching the funeral of King Fuad."

The smile still on his lips, the man said, "Thank you for your thoughtful condolences."

After shaking hands, they went their separate ways. Ahmad watched for a moment as his grandfather walked off. Then he said, "Our grandfather's charming and elegant. His cologne has a pleasant fragrance."

"Mother recounts amazing tales about his tyranny."

"I don't think he's a tyrant. That's incredible."

Abd al-Muni'm laughed and said, "Even King Fuad himself by the end of his days seemed pleasant and charming". They both laughed and proceeded on to Ahmad Abduh's coffeehouse.

In the room opposite the fountain, Ahmad saw a shaykh with a long beard and penetrating eyes. He sat in the center of a group of young men, who watched him attentively. Ahmad stopped and told his brother, "Your friend Shaykh Ali al-Manufi…. 'The earth casts out its burdens' [Qur'an, 99:2]. So I must leave you here."

Abd al-Muni'm invited him: "Come sit with us. I'd love for you to get to know him and to hear him speak. Dispute with him as much as you want. Many of the fellows around him are students from the University."

Freeing his arm from his brother's, Ahmad said, "No, sir. I almost got into a fight with him once. I don't like fanatics. Goodbye."

Abd al-Muni'm stared at him critically and said sharply, "Goodbye. May our Lord guide you". Then he joined the assembly presided over by Shaykh Ali al-Manufi, head of al-Husayn Primary School. The man stood up to greet him, and the young people sitting there also rose and embraced him. When the shaykh sat down, they all resumed their seats. Examining Abd al-Muni'm with piercing eyes, the shaykh commented, "We didn't see you yesterday."

"Studying."

"Industry is an acceptable excuse. Why did your brother leave you to go off by himself?"

Abd al-Muni'm smiled but did not reply. Shaykh Ali al-Manufi remarked, "Our Lord is the guide. Don't wonder about him. Our founder, Hasan al-Banna, encountered many skeptics who today are some of his sincerest disciples. When God wants to guide a people, Satan has no power over them. We are God's soldiers, spreading His light and combating His enemies. More than others, we have given our spirits to Him. Soldiers of God, how happy you are!"

One of the congregation observed, "But the kingdom of Satan is large."

Shaykh Ali al-Manufi scolded, "Look at this fellow who's afraid of Satan's world when he's in God's presence…. What shall we say to him? We are with God, and God is with us. So what should we fear? What other soldiers on earth enjoy your power? What weapon is more effective than yours? The English, French, Germans, and Italians rely primarily on their material culture, but you rely on true belief. Belief can dent steel. Faith is stronger than any other force on earth. Fill your pure hearts with belief, and the world belongs to you."

Another young man commented, "We believe, but we're a weak nation."

The shaykh clenched his fist as he cried out, "If you feel weak, then your faith has decreased without your being aware of it. Faith creates power and induces it. Bombs are made by hands like yours. They are the fruit of power, not its cause. How did the Prophet conquer the whole Arabian peninsula? How did the Arabs conquer the entire world?"

Abd al-Muni'm answered fervently, "Faith and belief."

Then someone else asked, "But how can the English be so powerful? They're not Believers."

The shaykh smiled and ran his fingers through his beard as he said, "Anyone strong believes in something. They believe in their nation and in 'progress.' But faith in God is superior to any other kind of belief. It's only fitting that people who believe in God should be stronger than those believing in the physical world. We Muslims have at our disposal a buried treasure. We must extract it. We need to revive Islam and to make it as good as new. We call ourselves Muslims, but we must prove it by our deeds. God blessed us with His Book, but we have ignored it. This has brought down humiliation upon us. So let us return to the Book. This is our rnotto: a return to the Qur'an. That was what our leader called for at the beginning in Isma'iliya, and from that time or his message has been sinking deep into people's spirits, winning over villages and hamlets, filling every heart."

"But wouldn't it be wise for us to stay out of politics?"

"Our religion consists of a creed, a code of law, and a political system. God is far too merciful to have left the most troublesome aspects of human affairs devoid of any regulation or guidance from Him. Actually, that's the subject of our lesson for tonight…."

The shaykh was ebullient. His approach was to affirm some truth, which they would then discuss, as disciples asked questions and he replied. Most of his remarks centered on quotations from the Qur'an and from the collections of hadith reports of the Prophet's words and deeds. He spoke as if preaching, indeed preaching to all the patrons of the coffeehouse.

From his seat at the far end of the room, where he was drinking green tea, Ahmad could hear the shaykh. There was a sarcastic smile on the young man's lips, as he incredulously attempted to measure the gulf separating him from this zealous group. Angry and scornful, he grew so irritated that he thought of asking the shaykh to lower his voice and to stop disturbing the other patrons. But he abandoned that idea as soon as he remembered his brother was one of the shaykh's disciples. Finally, he saw no alternative to leaving the coffeehouse, rose resentfully, and left.