Sugar Street

154

"Putting my trust in God, I shall ask for the hand of my cousin Karima."

Ibrahim Shawkat glanced up at his son with some astonishment. Ahmad bowed his head but smiled in a way that showed the news came as no surprise to him. Khadija set aside the shawl she was embroidering to cast a strange look of disbelief at her son. Then, staring ai: her husband, she asked, "What did he say?"

Abd al-Muni'm repeated: "Putting my trust in God, I shall ask for the hand of your brother's daughter Karima."

To show her bewilderment Khadija spread her hands out and asked, "Has good taste gone out of fashion in this world? Is this an appropriate time to discuss an engagement, regardless of the identity of your intended?"

Smiling, Abd al-Muni'm said, "All times are appropriate for betrothals."

Shaking her head to express her bafflement, she inquired, "And your grandfather?" Then, as she looked from Ahmad to Ibrahim, she continued: "Have you ever heard of anything like this before?"

Abd al-Muni'm remarked a bit sharply, "An engagement… not a marriage or a wedding. And my grandfather's been dead four whole months Lighting a cigarette, Ibrahim Shawkat said, "Karima's still young. She looks older than she is, I think."

Abd al-Muni'm answered, "She's fifteen, and the marriage contract would not be signed for a year…."

Khadija asked with bitter sarcasm, "Has Mrs. Zanuba shown you the birth certificate?"

Ibrahim Shawkat and his son Ahmad laughed, but Abd al-Muni'm said earnestly, "Nothing will happen for a year. By that time almost a year and a half will have passed since Grandfather's death, arid Karima will be old enough to get married."

"So why are you causing us a headache now?"

"There wouldn't be any harm in announcing the engagement at present."

Khadija inquired scornfully, "Will the engagement go sour if it's postponed for a year?"

"Please don't jest."

Khadija shouted, "If this happens, it will cause a scandal."

With all the composure he could muster, Abd al-Muni'm replied, "Leave Grandmother to me. She'll understand me better than you do. She's my grandmother and Karima's too."

His mother observed gruffly, "She's not Karima's grandmother."

Abd al-Muni'm fell silent, but his expression was sullen. Before he could answer, his father interjected, "It's a question of good taste. It would be better to wait a little."

Khadija cried out furiously, "You mean your only objection is to the timing?"

Pretending not to understand, Abd al-Muni'm asked, "Is there some other objection then?"

Khadija did not answer. When she started embroidering the shawl again, Abd al-Muni'm protested, "Karima's the daughter of your brother Yasin, isn't she?"

Dropping the shawl, Khadija said bitterly, "She truly is my brother's daughter, but you ought to remember as well who her mother is."

The men exchanged apprehensive glances. Abd al-Muni'm burst out acerbically, "Her mother's also your brother's wife."

Raising her voice, she proclaimed, "I know that and regret it."

"That forgotten past! Who remembers it now? She's no longer anything but a respectable lady like you."

In a surly voice she retorted, "That woman's not like me and never will be."

"What's wrong with her? Since we were little children we've known her to be a lady in every sense of the word. When a person repents and lives righteously, his former misdeeds are erased. After that, the only people who would remind him of them are …"

He stopped. Shaking her head sorrowfully, she challenged him, "Yes? … Tell me what I am! Insult your mother for the sake of this woman who has successfully ensnared you. I've long wondered what lay behind those repeated dinner invitations to Palace of Desire Alley. You've been taken in by it."

After looking angrily from his father to his brother, Abd al-Muni'm inquired, "Is this the way we talk? I'd like to hear what you two think."

Yawning, Ibrahim Shawkat said, "There's no need for all this discussion. Abd al-Muni'm will get married again, if not today then tomorrow. You want that to happen. Karima's our daughter and a lovely, charming girl. There's no need to become agitated."

Ahmad remarked, "Mother, you're always the one who thinks first about pleasing Uncle Yasin."

Exasperated, Khadija replied, "You're all against me, as usual, but the only argument you can think of is 'Uncle Yasin.' Yasin is my brother. His primary fault was not knowing how to pick a bride, atid his nephew has inherited this strange defect from him."

Abd al-Muni'm asked in amazement, "Isn't my uncle's wife a friend of yours? Anyone watching the two of you exchange secrets would think you are sisters."

"What can I do when the woman's as shrewd a diplomat as Allenby? But if it had been up to me and I had not been concerned about Yasin, I would not have allowed her to enter my home. What has been the result? Against your better judgment you have been won over by the dinners given to promote her own interests… God help us."

Then Ahmad told his brother, "Ask for her hand whenever you want. Mother has an active tongue but a fine heart."

Laughing nervously, she said, "Bravo, son. You two differ about everything — beliefs, religion, politics but you're united against me."

Ahmad said gleefully, "Uncle Yasin is a favorite of yours, and you'll accord Karima the warmest welcome. The thing is that you would like a bride who isn't a relative so that you, as her mother, can dominate her. Fine … it'll be up to me to fulfill this dream for you. I'll bring you a bride you've never heard of so your craving can be satisfied."

"I wouldn't be at all surprised if you brought home a dancer tomorrow. Why are you laughing? This devout young shaykh wants to marry into the family of a professional entertainer. So what should I expect from you, whose religious beliefs are suspect, so help me God?"

"We really do need a dancer in the family."

Then, as though she had just remembered a terribly important matter, Khadija asked, "And Aisha? My Lord, what do you suppose she'll say about us?"

Abd al-Muni'm objected, "What should she say? My wife died four years ago. Does she want me to remain a widower for the rest of my life?"

Ibrahim Shawkat said irritably, "Don't turn an anthill into a mountain. The question is far simpler than you suggest. Karima is Yasin's daughter. Yasin is the brother of both Khadija and Aisha. That suffices. Pshaw! You argue about everything, even weddings."

A smile on his face, Ahmad glanced stealthily at his mother. He continued to observe her until she rose, as if infuriated, and left the room. He told himself, "This bourgeois class is nothing but an array of complexes. It would take an expert psychoanalyst to cure all of its ills, an analyst as powerful as history itself. If luck had given me any kind of break, I would have married before my brother, but that other bourgeois woman stipulated a salary of at least fifty pounds a month. This is how hearts are wounded for considerations that have nothing to do with the heart. I wonder what Sawsan Hammad would think if she knew about my abortive adventure?"