Sugar Street

151

Kamal left Jalila's house at one-thirty in the morning. The world was veiled in a darkness tempered by silence as he slowly made his way to New Street and then turned toward al-Husayn. How long would he live in this sacred district that had lost all of its spiritual significance for him? He smiled wanly. The only remaining vestige of the liquor was a hangover. His blazing desires had died away, and he plodded along lethargically. Often at a time like this when lust had been satisfied, something not regret or a wish to repent would scream from his inner depths, imploring and urging him to cleanse and free himself from the grip of physical appetites once and for all, as if the receding waves of desire had laid bare sub merged boulders of asceticism. When he raised his head skyward to commune with the stars, an air-raid siren ripped through the stillness of the night. His heart raced fiercely, and his sleepy eyes opened wide. He headed instinctively for the nearest wall, to walk along beside it. Looking up at the sky once more, he saw that searchlights were sweeping across the heavens at great speed. They met at times, only to veer off wildly on separate paths. Still hugging the walls, he increased his pace. He had an oppressive sense of being alone, as though he were the only person left on the face of the earth.

A shrill whistling sound, unlike anything he had ever heard before, plummeted from the sky, and it was followed by an enormous explosion that rocked the earth beneath his feet. Was it near or far? He did not have time to review his information about air raids, since the explosions came in such rapid succession that it took his breath away. There were repeated bursts of antiaircraft fire, and mysterious unidentifiable flashes of light streaked the air like lightning. It seemed to him that the whole earth was ilying apart in a burst of sparks. Heedless of his surroundings, he shot off at a gallop toward Qirmiz Alley to shelter under its historic vaults. The guns were firing with an insane rage, as bombs pounded their targets and made the earth shake. After a few terrifying seconds he reached the passageway, which was packed with a multitude of people, whose bodies gave substance to its gloom. Panting, he slipped in among them. In the pervasive darkness, the prevailing sense of terror was voiced by little moans of alarm. From time to time, the entrance and exit to the vaulted section were illuminated by light reflected from the streaks in the sky.

The bombs had stopped falling — or so it seemed but the anti-aircraft guns kept on firing as wildly as before, and their impact on the soul was no less distressing than that of the bombs. There was a babbling confusion of shrieks, sobs, and scolding reprimands from various men, women, and children.

"This raid's not like the others."

"Our ancient district can't take this new kind of raid."

"Spare us your chatter. Say, Lord!'"

"We are saying, Lord!'"

"Be quiet. Be quiet! May God be compassionate to you."

While watching flashes of light illuminate the exit, Kamal saw a new group approach. He thought he recognized his father among them, and his heart pounded. Was it really his father? How could the man have gotten all the way to the alley? Indeed, how could he have gotten out of bed? Kamal pushed through the agitated throngs of people until he reached the end of the vault. In a glimmer of light, he saw the whole family his father and mother, Aisha, and Umm Hanafi. He made his way to them and then, standing beside them, whispered, "It's Kamal. Are you all right?"

His father did not answer. Utterly exhausted, he was leaning against the wall, between Kamal's mother and Aisha. The mother said, "Kamal? Praise God. This is atrocious, son. It's not like before. We thought the house was going to tumble down on our heads. Our Lord gave your father enough strength to get out of bed and come with us. I have no idea how he made it or how we got here."

Umm Hanafi muttered, "Compassion is from Him. What is this terror? May our Lord be gracious to us."

Suddenly, Aisha cried out, "When will these guns be still?"

Fearing that her voice suggested her nerves were at the breaking point, Kamal went to Aisha and took her hand between both of his, for he had recovered some of his presence of mind on finding himself with people who needed his support. The guns were still firing with a wild rage, but their fury started to abate by barely perceptible degrees. Kamal leaned toward his father and asked, "How are you, Father?"

The man replied in a feeble whisper, "Where wxre you, Kamal? Where were you when the raid started?"

To set the man's mind at ease, Kamal said, "I was near the alley. How are you?"

In a shaky voice the father said, "God only knows… how I got out of bed and rushed along the street. God knows… I wasn't conscious of what I was doing…. When will things return to normal?"

"Shall I take off my jacket for you to sit on?"

"No. I can stand, but when will things calm down?"

"The raid seems to have ended. Don't worry about getting up so suddenly. Surprises often work miracles in an illness."

He had hardly finished speaking when the ground trembled from thiee explosions in a row, and the anti-aircraft guns went on the rampage again. The passageway was filled with screams.

"It's right over our heads!"

"Declare the unity of God."

"Don't make things worse than they are with your talk."

Kamal released Aisha's hand to take both of his father's in his grasp. It was the first time in his life he had done that. Al-Sayyid Ahmad': D hands were trembling, and Kamal's were too. Umm Hanafi, who had thrown herself on the ground, wailed noisily.

An agitated voice called out irritably, "I've had enough screaming! I'll kill anyone who screams."

But the screaming grew louder, and the gunfire continued. Nervou:; tension increased as they waited for the next shock wave. This expectation of more explosions had a stifling effect on them, as the firing of the guns went unanswered.

"The bombing's over!"

"It only stops to start up again."

"It's far away. If it were close, the houses around us would not have survived."

"The bombs fell in al-Nahhasin."

"It seems that way to you, but they may have fallen on the ordnance depot."

"Listen, will you? Hasn't the gunfire started to die down?"

It had. Soon firing was audible only in the distance. Then it was intermittent, coming at intervals of a whole minute eventually.

Finally silence descended, spread, and became firmly entrenched. People felt free to talk again, and whispered expressions of tearful hope could be heard. They had so many things to remember as they came back to life and sighed with cautious but anxious relief. Kamal tried in vain to inspect his father's face, for the flashes of light had disappeared and the world was dark.

"Father, things will calm down now."

The man did not answer but wiggled his hands, which his son still grasped, to show that he was alive.

"Are you all right?" Kamal asked. The hands moved once more, and the son felt so sad that he was on the verge of tears.

A siren went off to mark the end of the raid. Afterward, the jubilant shoutsheard on all sides were reminiscent of the cries of children after the cannon fires to mark the start of a holiday or to signal the hour for feasting during Ramadan. The alley and the neighboring area were the scene of unlimited commotion as doors and windows banged open, agitated conversations grew loud, and the people packed into the vaulted part of the alley began to move out in waves.

Sighing, Kamal said, "Let's go home."

Placing one arm over Kamal's shoulder and the other over Amina's, al-Sayyid Ahmad walked along between them, a step at a time. They began to wonder how he was and what effect this grim outing would have on him___But he stopped walking and said in a weak voice, "I've got to sit down."

Kamal suggested, "Let me carry you."

The exhausted man protested, "You won't be able to."

Putting one arm around the man's back and the other under his legs, Kamal picked him up. It was not a light load, but little was left of his father in any case. Kamal walked along very slowly, and the others followed him apprehensively.

Aisha suddenly started sobbing. When her father said in a tired voice, "There's no call for a scene," she put a hand over her mouth.

When they reached the house, Umm Hanafi helped Kamal carry the master. They took him upstairs slowly and cautiously. Although he submitted gracefully to this treatment, his stream of mumbled pleas for God's forgiveness betrayed his grief and discomfort. They deposited him carefully on the bed. When the light was turned on, they could see that his face was very pale, as if the exertion had drained his blood. His chest washeaving violently up and down, and his eyes were closed from his exhaustion. He began moaning and moaning. Eventually he got the better of his pain and sank into silence. They stood in a row beside his bed, watching him wit h apprehensive dread. At last Amina inquired in a trembling voice, "Is my master well?"

He opened his eyes, and took his time looking at the faces, which tie did not always seem to recognize. Then he sighed and said in a scarcely audible voice, "Praise God."

"Sleep, master. Sleep to regain your strength."

They heard the ring of the bell outside, and Umm Hanafi went to open the door. They exchanged questioning glances, and Kamal suggested, "Probably someone from Sugar Street or Palace of Desire Alley has come to see if we're all right."

His supposition was confirmed, for Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad soon entered the room, and they were followed by Yasin and Ridwan. Approaching al-Sayyid Ahmad's bed, they greeted those present. The man glanced at them listlessly. As though speech were beyond him, he contented himself with raising a thin hand to them in greeting. Kamal recounted in an abbreviated form what his father had experienced that alarming night. Then Amina whispered, "An atrocious night may our Lord never repeat it."

Umm Hanafi remarked, "The movement has tired him, but with some rest he'll recover his strength."

Yasin leaned over his father to say, "You need to sleep. How do you feel now?"

The man gazed with dull eyes at his eldest son and mumbled, "Praise God. My left side doesn't feel good."

Yasin asked, "Should I call a doctor for you?"

The father waved his hand testily and then whispered, "No. It's better if I sleep."

Starting to retreat, Yasin gestured for the family to leave the room, and the man raised his scrawny hand again. They walked out, one after the other, leaving only Amina. Once they were assembled in the sitting room, Abd al-Muni'm asked his uncle Kamal, 'What did you do? We hurried down to the reception room in the courtyard."

Yasin volunteered, "We went downstairs to our neighbors' apartment on the ground floor."

Kamal said anxiously, "Fatigue has sapped Papa's strength."

Yasin asserted, "But he'll regain hishealth by sleeping."

"What can we do if there's another raid?"

No one answered, and there was a heavy silence, until Ahmad complained, "Our houses are ancient. They won't stand up to these raids."

Wishing to dissipate the lingering cloud of despair, since it was upsetting him, Kamal coaxed a smile from his lips and said, "If our houses are destroyed, they'll have the honor of being demolished by the most advanced inventions of modern science."