Sugar Street

144

Ahmad had little trouble finding the villa of his sociology professor, Mr. Forster, in the Cairo suburb of al-Ma'adi. On entering, he realized that he was a bit late and that many of the other students had already arrived for this party, which the professor was giving before he returned to England. Ahmad was welcomed by the host and his wife, and the professor introduced Ahmad to her as one of the best students in the department. Then the young man joined the others, who were sitting on the veranda. All levels of the sociology program were represented. As one of the small group promoted to the final year, Ahmad shared with those peers a sense of excellence and of achievement. None of the women students had appeared yet, but he was confident that they would come or at least that his "friend" would, since she also lived in al-Ma'adi. Glancing at the garden, he saw a long table set on a grassy lawn, which was bordered on two sides by willow and palm trees. Lined up on the table were teapots, containers of milk, and platters of sweet confections and pastries.

He heard a student ask, "Shall we observe British manners or swoop down on the table like vultures?"

Another replied rather sadly, "Oh, if only 'Lady' Forster weren't present."

It was late afternoon, but the weather was pleasant, June's reputation for sultriness notwithstanding. In no time at all the eagerly awaited flock was at the door. As if by design, the only four women students in the department all came together. Wearing a fitted pure-white dress that seemed one with the rest of her charming person except for her coal-black hair Alawiya Sabri came into view, striding jauntily forward. At that moment Ahmad, whose secret had long since gotten out, felt a teasing foot rub against his to alert him to her presence, as if there were any need for that. He kept his eyes on the women until they found seats on the veranda in a corner that had been vacated for them.

Mr. Forster and his wife appeared, and, pointing to the girls, Mrs. Forster asked, "Would you like to be introduced?"

Thei r response was resounding laughter. Extraordinarily lively although nearly fifty, the professor said, "It would be far better if you'd introduce them to me."

The guests laughed noisily once more, and Mr. Forster continued: "At about this time each year we leave Egypt for a holiday in England, but this year we don't know whether we'll see Egypt again or not___"

His wife interrupted: "We don't even know if we'll manage to see England!"

They realized that she was referring to the danger posed to shipping by submarines, and more than one voice called out, "Crood luck, ma'am."

The host added, "I'll carry away with me beautiful memories of our life at the Faculty of Arts and of this tranquil and lovely area of al-Ma'adi. I'll always remember you fondly, even your tomfoolery."

To be polite, Ahmad replied, "The memory of you will stay with us forever and will continue to develop as our intellects do."

"Thank you". Then, smiling, the professor told his wife, "Ahmad is an academic at heart, even though he has ideas of a kind that often cause trouble in this country."

One of Ahmad's fellow students explained, "That meanshe's a Communist."

The smiling hostess raised her eyebrows, and Mr. Forster commented in a tone that conveyed more than his words themselves, "I'm not the one who said that. Your comrade did". Then, standing up, he announced, "It's time for tea. We mustn't let the moment slip away from us. Later there will be an opportunity for conversation and entertainment."

The tea party was catered by Groppi's, a famous Cairo establishment, and its waiters stood nearby, ready to serve the guests. "Lady" Forster sat between the girls on one side, and the professor was at the center on the other. To explain the seating arrangement, he said, "We would have liked to mix you up more but decided to respect Eastern etiquette. Isn't that right?"

With out any hesitation, one o the male students answered, "This, unfortunately, is what we've noticed, sir."

A sei-vant poured tea and milk, and the feast began. Ahmad observed furtively that Alawiya Sabri was the most proficient of the girls in Western table manners and the most relaxed. She seemed accustomed to social life and as much at ease as if in her own home. Watching her eat pastries was even sweeter than eating them himself. She was his dear friend who reciprocated his friendship without encouraging him to cross its boundaries.

He told himself, "If I don't seize the opportunity that today offers, I may as well give up."

Mrs. Forster raised her voice to advise them, "I hope you won't let the thought of war rationing make you shy about eating the pastries."

A student commented, "It's a lucky break that the authorities haven't restricted tea yet."

Mr. Forster leaned over toward Ahmad, who was sitting to his left, and inquired, "How do you spend your holidays? I mean, what do you read?"

"A lot of economics and a little politics. I write some articles for magazines too."

"I'd advise you to go on for a master's degree when you finish this one."

After chewing what was in his mouth, Ahmad replied, "Perhaps later on, but I'll start out working as a journalist. That's been my plan for years."

"Excellent!"

His dear friend was conversing easily with Mrs. Forster. How quickly she had perfected her English! The roses and other blooms were as saturated with red and their other colors as his heart was with love. In a world that was truly free, love would blossom like a flower. Only in a Communist country could love be a totally natural emotion.

Mr. Forster said, "I'm sad I won't be able to continue my study of Arabic. I would like to read Majnun's poems in praise of Layla without having to rely on one of you."

"It's a pity that you won't be able to study it anymore."

"Unless circumstances permit, later on."

"You may find yourself obliged to learn German," Ahmad reflected. "Wouldn't it be amusing if London were the scene of demonstrations calling for the evacuation of foreign forces and you took part in them? The seductive charm of the English can be attributed to their manners, but that of my dear friend is unique.

The sun will soon set, and night will find us together in an isolated spot for the first time. If I don't seize this opportunity, I may as well give up."

He asked his professor, "What will you be doing once you return to London?"

"I've been invited to work in broadcasting."

"Then we won't be deprived of hearing your voice."

"A polite statement," Ahmad told himself, "is excusable at a party ornamented by my friend, but we only listen to the German broadcasts. Our people love the Germans, if only because they hate the English. Colonialism is the final stage of capitalism. The situation created by our professor's party merits some thought. Although we justify it in the spirit of intellectual inquiry, there is a conflict between our love for this professor and our loathing for his nationality. Hopefully the war will polish off both the Nazi movement and colonialism. Then I can concentrate entirely on love."

They returned to their seats on the veranda, where the lamps had been lit. "Lady" Forster said at once, "Here's the piano. Won't someone play for us?"

A student entreated her, "Won't you please perform for us?" She rose with the graceful agility of youth, which was many years behind her, and sat down at the piano. Opening some sheet music, she started to play. None of them had any particular familiarity with Western music or a taste for it, but wishing to be polite and courteous, they listened attentively. From his love, Ahmad attempted to extract a magical power to unlock the obscure passages of the music. But he forgot all about the song when he glanced stealthily at the girl's face. Their eyes met once, and they exchanged a smile seen by many of the others.

In an intoxicated delight, he told himself, "Yes, if I don't seize my opportunity today, I may as well give up."

When "Lady" Forster had finished, one of the students played an Eastern tune. Then they conversed for quite a long time. At about eight o'clock, the students said goodbye to their professor and set off. On this night, which seemed remarkably beautiful and compassionate, Ahmad lingered under the canopy of towering trees at a bend in the road until he saw her approach on her way home alone. Then he popped out in front of her.

She stopped in astonishment and asked, "Didn't you go off with the others?"

Exhaling as if to relieve his breast of its turmoil, he replied calmly, "I let the caravan go on ahead so I could meet you."

"What do you suppose they'll think?"

He answered scornfully, "That's their problem."

She walked slowly forward, and he kept pace with her. Then his long days of patience bore fruit as he said, "Before I leave you I want to ask if you will allow me to request your hand in marriage."

Her beautiful head shot up in reaction to this surprise, but no sound escaped her, as if she could not think of anything to say. The street was empty and the streetlights were dim from the blue paint applied as a precaution for air raids. He asked her again, "Will you give me permission?"

In a faint voice with a hint of censure to it she said, "This is the way you talk, but what an approach. The fact is that you've stunned me."

He laughed gently and then said, "I apologize for that, although I would have thought the long history of our friendship would have prevented my words from coming as a startling surprise."

"You mean our friendship and our academic collaboration?"

He was not comfortable with her choice of words but said, "I mean my obvious affection that has taken the form of 'friendship and academic collaboration,' as you put it."

In a jolly but shaky voice she inquired, "Your affection?"

With stubborn sincerity he replied, "I mean my love, my unconcealed love. Usually we do not announce it merely to proclaim it but to rejoice at hearing it proclaimed."

To string him along until she could regain her composure, she said, "The whole thing comes as a surprise to me."

"I'm sad to hear this."

"Why? The truth is that I don't know what to say…."

Laughing, he responded, "Say, 'You have my permission.' Then leave the rest to me."

"But, but… I don't know anything about… No offense, we really have been friends, yet you've never spoken of… I mean there has never been an occasion for you to tell me about yourself."

"Don't you know me?"

"Of course I know you, but there are other things one has to know."

"You mean the traditional things? Those questions are best suited to a heart that has never been a prisoner of love". He felt annoyed but this only made him more obstinate. He continued: "Everything will become clear at the proper time."

Regaining control of herself, she asked, "Isn't this the proper time?"

He smiled wanly and replied, "You're right. Are you referring to the future?"

"Naturally."

This "naturally" exasperated him. He had hoped to hear a song and instead had been subjected to the drone of a lecture, but no matter what happened it was important for him to retain his self-confidence. The icy darling did not know how happy it would make him to make her happy.

"Once I graduate, I'll get a job". Then after a few moments of silence he added, "And one day I'll have a substantial private income."

She stammered in embarrassment, "That's not very specific."

Trying to mask his pain with a calm exterior, he replied, "The salary will be in the normal range, and the income will be around ten pounds."

Silence reigned. Perhaps she was weighing matters and thinking them over. This was the way a materialist would understand love. He had dreamt of a sweet intoxication but had not achieved anything close to that. It was amazing that in this country where people allowed emotion to guide their politics they approached love with the precision of accountants.

At last the delicate voice replied, "Let's leave aside the private income, for it's not nice to plan your life around the death of loved ones."

"I wanted to let you know that my father is a man of property."

With a burst of energy to make up for the vacillation preceding it, she said, "We need to be realistic."

"I told you I'd find work. And you'll get a job too."

She laughed in an odd way and replied, "Certainly not. I won't work. Unlike the other women students, I haven't enrolled in the University to obtain a government position."

"There's nothing wrong in having a job."

"Naturally. But my father… The fact is that we're all agreed on this. I won't work."

As his emotions cooled down, he became pensive. He commented, "So be it. I'll work."

In a voice that she seemed deliberately to be making more tender than usual she said, "Mr. Ahmad, let's postpone this discussion. Give me time to think it over."

He laughed dispiritedly and responded, "We have looked at the question from every angle. Don't you really need more time to draft your rejection?"

She said bashfully, "I must talk to my father."

"That goes without saying. But it should have been possible for us to reach an understanding first."

"I need some time, even if it's not very long."

"It's June now, and you'll be going off to your summer resort. We won't meet again until next October at school."

She insisted, "I must have time to think about it and to consult my family."

"You just don't want to commit yourself."

Then she suddenly stopped walking and remarked with determined resolve, "Mr. Ahmad, you're trying to force me to speak. I hope you'll take my words the right way. I've thought about marriage frequently, not with regard to you but in general terms. I've concluded and my father agrees with me that my life won't be successful and that I won't be able to maintain my standard of living unless I have no less than fifty pounds a month."

He swallowed this disappointment, which hurt more than he could ever have expected, even allowing for the worst possible outcome. He asked, "Does any working man, I mean one of an age to marry, make a salary that vast?" When she did not respond, he declared, "You want a rich husband!"

"I'm very sorry, but you have forced me to be blunt."

He answered gruffly, "That's better, at any rate."

"Sorry," she murmured.

Although furious, he made a sincere effort to stay within the bounds of polite behavior. Feeling an overwhelming desire to be blunt with her, he asked, "Would you allow me to give you my frank opinion?"

She shot back, "Certainly not! I know many of your ideas. I hope that we can stay friends."

In spite of his anger, he pitied her condition, an inevitable one for a life that had not been transformed by love. A lady who eloped with one of her servants acted naturally but by traditional standards was judged a deviant. In an imperfect society, a healthy man seems sick and the sick one healthy. He was angry, but his unhappiness was greater than his anger. At any rate she would guess what he thought of her, and there was some consolation in that. When she stretched out her hand to take leave of him, his hand took hers and kept hold of it until he had said, "You claimed you didn't enroll in the University to obtain a job. That's a lovely notion in and of itself. But how have you benefited from the University?"

She raised her chin inquisitively. In a slightly sarcastic tone he concluded, "Forgive my foolish behavior. Perhaps the problem is that you haven't fallen in love yet. Goodbye."

He turned on his heels and walked away rapidly.