The Beginning and the End

SIXTY

At the same hour, Nefisa was in Station Square. In supplication, the sky waited for the darkness of evening to fall, while the square bustled with hurrying human beings, animals, trams, and motorcars. On the pavement next to the statue of the Renaissance of Egypt, the girl stood waiting for a break in the traffic so that she could cross the street to the tram stop. She observed a man standing a few arm’s lengths away, looking curiously at her. She had learned to understand the real import of such looks. But overcome with astonishment, she wondered: Even this man!

He was sixty, age lending to his body a sagging yet dignified appearance. In spite of the hot weather he wore a woolen suit; he carried an elegant fly whisk with an ivory handle, and his eyes were shielded by blue spectacles. His tarbush, slanting backward, revealed a broad forehead, the lower part of which was scorched by the sun, while above the marks left by the fringes of the tarbush, his skin was a brilliant white. His whiskers and the hair at the back of his head were likewise pure white. Held by curiosity and greed, she remained where she was, although the traffic had stopped. Turning her eyes, she found him still gazing at her. As though encouraged by her glances, he walked toward her with heavy steps. As he passed her, he whispered, “Follow me to my car.”

He walked to a car as old and dignified as himself, parked very close to the pavement. The step was almost two inches above the level of the pavement; at the door stood a driver, motionless as a statue. He climbed into the car without closing the door behind him; on instruction the driver immediately took his place behind the steering wheel. Thinking that she was lagging behind, the old man took off his spectacles and motioned to her with his hand. She could hardly restrain a smile. Then casting a scrutinizing look around her, urged for the first time in her life by sheer greed, she walked to the car. He moved a bit to give her room, and she sat down beside him. But anxiety soon overcame her when her nostrils filled with the strong smell of liquor on his breath. “I can’t be late,” she said.

“Nor can I,” he said, his tongue thick with intoxication.

He gave his instructions to the driver, and the car started off at high speed. A sense of alienation came over her. Sorrow and fear struck her heart, in a feeling of absolute degeneration. It was the first time in her life that she had gone with a man without any preliminary acquaintance, whether brief or protracted. Urged on partly by her sexual appetite, she had previously accompanied men she had met only once, twice, or three times. But this time, out of pure greed, and feeling no desire at all, she surrendered to a passerby. How complete was her degeneration! And how dreadful her end! She wondered how the man could single her out as a bed companion. Did her face, ugly though it was, betray her degeneration? Torn now by her old confusion, she was uncertain whether to keep her seductive makeup or to abandon makeup altogether, thus revealing her ugliness.

He placed his palm on her hand. “You’re as beautiful as the moon,” he stammered.

“I’m not at all beautiful,” she said.

“No woman is devoid of some sort of beauty!” he replied disapprovingly.

Was this man a liar or a fool? She marveled how lechery blinded men’s eyes. “Except me,” she said simply.

Rapping his fingers on her bosom, he said, “But for your beauty, I wouldn’t have felt this desire!”

She would have liked to believe him, but she knew it was a lie. No man’s love for her lasted more than a few hours. Perhaps he was dissipated, or, like her, suffering from bitter despair. Men had given her enough pain to make her spiteful. Nevertheless, the flames of desire which engulfed her body were never extinguished. Her body degraded her so much that she came to hate it as bitterly as she hated poverty. A captive of her body and her poverty, she knew no way to rescue herself. Swept away in the current of life and bruised on its rocks, naked, injured, unprotected and unpitied, she realized the futility of searching for a safe refuge. She heard him say with a sigh, “We’ve arrived.” Looking out, she watched the car move around a circular road with huge trees, like the shapes of giants, on one side. On the other the Nile ran its course through a vast area shrouded in darkness, decked with flickering lamplight at its remote fringes.

“Is this the island of Gezira?”

“You know it of course!”

Waiting until the driver left his seat and disappeared in the dark, he took off his glasses. “Now,” he said, “show me your skill, for everything depends on it.”

He was a decayed maniac, soaked with liquor. He thrust his body upon hers, roughly petting her, biting her brutally and pinching her until she was about to scream. The whole business was about to end in a pathetic fiasco. He soon became exhausted. His bizarre, fruitless exertions were almost laughable. At last, lying back drunkenly, he said to her coarsely, “Reach over to the driver’s seat and get me the bottle.”

Uncorking it, he took several gulps. Then as he leaned back against the seat, his breathing became rough and heavy. Unable to bear waiting any longer, but having learned from experience that nothing more was to be feared, she entreated him ingratiatingly, “It’s time for us to return.”

As if soliloquizing, he said, “I wish I would never return.”

She did not grasp the meaning of his words, but summoning up her courage, she murmured, “Please!”

Putting his hand in his pocket, he sluggishly took out a twenty-piaster piece, letting it fall in her lap. As she picked up the money, she stared at him in disapproval.

“What is this?” she asked, infuriated.

Suddenly aggressive, his eyes glistening with intoxication, the old man said, “It’s plenty! If you refuse it, I’ll put it back in my pocket.”

“I think you’re a man of too high a position for this,” she said resentfully.

He took another big swig from the bottle and smacked his lips, frowning. “True enough,” he replied. “But a twenty-piaster piece is too much for a person like you. I’ll bet no woman with a nose like yours would hope to get this sum!”

This wounding insult pierced her breast. Allowing her fear to overcome her anger, she said, “Why do you speak to me in this way?”

“First, because you’re greedy, and second, because the female sex is responsible for what happens to me. For your information, I only keep change on me. When I return home, my wife questions me even about this change. So I prefer to beat you rather than be beaten by her!”

Shaking with anger, she kept silent.

“One day,” he continued, “I was pestered by a woman in a similar situation. I slapped her on the face and threw her half naked out of the car. What do you think she did? Nothing. Sure, she knew that a policeman would do her more harm than I. I know she’s unjustly treated. So are you. But so am I. The real oppressor in this case is my wife.”

Sighing resentfully, she muttered, “Please, let’s go back.”

“It’s up to you,” he said with a yawn. “Open the window and call the driver.”

The car sped on its way back. Her eyes dim as she huddled absentmindedly in a corner of the car, she stared out into the darkness.