Laziness in the Fertile Valley (9 page)

XI

You’re going away and leave me all alone!” said Hoda.

“Yes. I’m going to the city. I can’t stay in this house any longer.”

That morning, Serag had resolved to leave for the city. Since he had lost the hope of working at the factory, there had been an immense void in his life. He had to fill that void. His visits to the unfinished factory had made him feel he was performing heroic deeds; he had drawn a certain moral strength from them. But now that this chimera had vanished completely, he found himself drawn toward sleep. He couldn’t resist it anymore. Fatally, he was letting himself be overcome by an inexorable idleness. His family’s listlessness was poisoning him more every day. Thus he had decided to leave as soon as possible. A few more days and he wouldn’t have the strength to try.

“You won’t do it,” said Hoda. “You’ll make me so unhappy!”

“Be quiet, foolish! Go do your work!”

“Where are you going? By Allah, you’ll get lost!”

“It’s none of your business.”

He was standing near the window, trying to be stern. He felt this obstinate girl would weaken him; love was even worse than sleep. It was going to be harder than he had realized. He shouldn’t have said anything to her. Now she would arouse the whole house.

He heard her whimpering and turned around.

“Now don’t start crying!”

She wiped her eyes and came up to him, her hands out, imploring him.

“Stay here! Don’t go away!”

“Be quiet, you daughter of a whore! They’ll hear you and come to devil me too. I’m sorry I told you I was leaving.”

“Then take me with you.”

“You’re mad! I’m not going to load myself down with a girl like you. I have to look for work.”

“You can’t work. I know you. I’ll work for you!”

“Don’t be stupid! I’d do anything to leave this house.”

She realized he had really decided to go, and was panic stricken. How could she stop him from leaving? She only knew the temptations of the flesh. A faint hope rose in her. Her smile was malicious.

“If you leave, you won’t be able to make love to me.”

“I don’t want to. Who told you I wanted to make love to you? I’ve other things to do, can’t you understand?”

“That’s not true!”

She pressed against him, trying to excite him. But he seemed weary and distant; he pushed her away brutally.

“Get out! Leave me alone!”

Hoda fell on the bed, a little stunned by the blow. But she wasn’t through; she was ready to do anything to hold him. Scarcely moving her hand, she raised her dress, completely uncovering her thighs. She spread her legs and waited. The silence was agonizing. She saw him looking at her with a distant, tired stare. She trembled with fear and passion.

“You don’t want me?”

He seemed out of his head; he didn’t understand what she meant. He murmured in a desperate voice:

“No, I don’t want you. I want to leave.”

She pulled down her dress and got up. She was furious and ready to cry again.

“No one will keep me from going!”

Serag watched her leave the room, disturbed. She would tell them now; they would come preach to him. He began to dress hurriedly. He meant to resist their advice and their cowardly temptations.

Rafik was the first to appear.

“What’s the matter! Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I’ve decided to look for work in the city.”

Rafik was astounded; he’d just woken up. His mind was confused and he couldn’t deal with such a serious situation. It was very difficult. Finally, he said:

“Have you any money?”

“What for?”

“You’re going to the city without any money?”

“I’m going to work, I tell you. I’ll earn money.”

“Poor boy! Do you think they’re just waiting to make you a minister?”

“I don’t want to be a minister! What makes you think I do?”

“Then what do you want to be?”

“I don’t know. I beg you, leave me alone. I have to think about what to take.”

Rafik sat down on the bed, pondering the gravity of the case. He feared the worst for his brother. This idea of looking for work in the city was a trap of the Devil. It would bring all sorts of complications, would utterly destroy the innermost recesses of their retreat. There’d be no end to watches and waiting. Now that the danger of his father’s marriage was almost removed by the news of the hernia, Rafik was dismayed at this new threat to their sleep. It was a vicious circle; they would never get out of it.

“Listen,” he said. “I’ve discovered a secret.”

“What secret?” asked Serag.

“I don’t think Father can marry after all,” said Rafik. “We’ve had incredible luck!”

“That doesn’t interest me,” said Serag. “Why should I care whether or not Father marries!”

“O traitor,” said Rafik. “Never mind! I just want you to know we’re in no danger. We’ll be able to sleep peacefully. Life will be pleasant again.”

“But I don’t want to sleep,” cried Serag. Who told you I wanted to sleep?”

“No one,” said Rafik. “But all men like to sleep. You’re a monster! I’m not going to waste any more time on you.”

“You’ve been wearing yourself out for nothing,” said Serag. “I’m going. No one can stop me.”

Rafik didn’t answer; he looked as though he might fall asleep. He remained silent for a few moments, then opened his eyes and said:

“You’re not afraid?”

“What would I be afraid of?”

“Of streetcars,” said Rafik. “They’re terrible. They crush thousands of people every day!”

“That’s not true,” said Serag. “You just have to watch out and not walk on the tracks.”

“But can you watch out?” said Rafik.

“Why not? I’m not blind.”

“You’re worse than blind,” said Rafik. “By Allah, you’ll get lost on the way. You won’t be able to get back to the house.”

“I don’t plan to come back,” said Serag. “You’d better go back to bed. Hoard your energy to watch for Haga Zohra! Why worry about me?”

“I’m not worried about you, imbecile! I’m thinking about our peace. When you leave all kinds of talk will start. And I don’t want it! Father’s marriage is enough! We’re trying to stop a scandal and you’re already starting another. My God! You’ll kill me!”

“Ah! That’s what you’re thinking about! I thought it was just your affection for me.”

“You’re an ass!”

Serag had finished dressing; he was tying up a bundle that held a few clothes. It was his baggage. He was proud of it; now he was sure of leaving.

At this moment, they heard a groaning in the hall, and old Hafez appeared in the doorway, supported by Uncle Mustapha, who seemed to be feeling his own importance.

“What do I hear? You want to leave!”

“Yes, Father.”

“Where, ungrateful son?”

“I want to go to the city, Father!”

“To the city!” cried old Hafez. “You hear! He says he wants to go to the city. What have I done to God to be given such a son?”

Uncle Mustapha, his tarboosh quivering on his head, his voice authoritative, addressed Rafik:

“Move a little. Let your father sit down.”

Rafik drew back against the wall and old Hafez sat down on the edge of the bed. He settled his hernia comfortably between his legs, breathed painfully and said:

“Now explain this to me. What is this madness?”

“It’s not madness,” said Serag. “Father, try to understand; I want to work.”

“Allah help us! You want to work! Why? What don’t you like about this house?”

“I can’t tell you, Father! I need to go away.”

“Ungrateful son! I’ve fed you and dressed you all these years and this is my thanks!”

“What ingratitude is there in wanting to work, Father? I don’t understand.”

“You want to cover us all with shame!”

Old Hafez was thinking of the ridicule Serag’s departure would bring the family; he trembled for his marriage. Such a scandal would surely cost him the good will of respectable people. He already had worries enough because of his infirmity which, at least, wouldn’t be seen until his wedding night. But if his youngest son left, and especially to go to work, he would really be overwhelmed by shame.

“Father, let me go! I promise to come back tonight. Don’t worry.”

“And who says you can come back! You think people can come and go as they please? What if the police arrest you?”

“Why would the police arrest me?” asked Serag, stunned.

“For nothing,” said old Hafez. “Then there are the streetcars, the automobiles, the cabs — all kinds of dangers. And what about the government. You’re not afraid of the government?”

“What’s the government going to do?’

“The government’s against revolts,” said old Hafez. “They’ll put you under arrest.”

“But I haven’t done anything against the government,” said Serag.

“The government won’t ask you for explanations. They’ll lock you up, I tell you!”

“Because I want to work?”

“Yes, those are subversive ideas; can’t you understand that? I’d like to know who put such ideas in your head. You were born in an honorable family. I beg you not to ruin our reputation.”

“Especially right now when we need it,” said Rafik.

Old Hafez seemed to ignore Rafik, lying behind him on the bed. He had caught the sarcasm in his words, but controlled himself, and gave vent to several menacing groans. He didn’t want to make the scene any worse. His first concern was Serag’s departure. He’d take care of Rafik later.

“Why are you awake! My word! It’s only dawn!”

It was Galal, awakened by the noise of the discussion. He feared some new mishap and had come to find out what the trouble was.

“It’s your brother Serag,” said Rafik. “He’s decided to go to the city to look for work.”

“Poor boy!” said Galal. “God help him.”

“God is with the lazy,” said Rafik. “He has nothing to do with the vampires who work.”

“You’re right,” said Galal. “Where can I sit down?”

He looked around, saw the bed occupied, and slid down against the wall. He put his head on his knees and went back to sleep.

“Good heavens, he’s asleep!” said old Hafez. “Galal, wake up! Speak to your brother. You’re the eldest, maybe he’ll listen to you. He doesn’t listen to me, his own father.”

Galal raised his head wearily; he seemed irritated.

“You want me to talk to a fool! I’ve enough trouble with the mouse.”

“The mouse!” said old Hafez. “He’s dreaming. What can I do?”

“There’s nothing to do,” said Serag. “I have to go.”

“You hear,” said old Hafez. “He’s going to leave. I have no control over this boy!”

“Let him go,” said Rafik. “He’ll learn about life. It will teach him a lesson.”

He got up slowly, leaned over and looked between his father’s legs. He wanted to see the hernia. The hernia was there, very noticeable under his nightgown. It was even bigger than he’d hoped. He smiled diabolically and lay down again.

“I’ll buy you a new suit,” said old Hafez, at the end of his arguments. “Does that please you? You can go to the tailor’s today. What more could you ask for? You see, I do everything to be agreeable.”

“It’s not a new suit I want,” moaned Serag. “Father, don’t you ever understand?”

“How do you expect me to understand?” said old Hafez. “Ungrateful child! Do I go out? Do I go to the city? What makes you any better than me? By Allah, I’m sorry I sent you to school! What did they teach you at school, tell me?”

Uncle Mustapha hadn’t said anything. He didn’t dare speak for fear of giving himself away. Actually, he was the only one who appreciated this departure, who thrilled at this promise of adventure. He, too, wanted to go away, to leave the house and the sleep-filled disorder that was like a nightmare. He gazed at Serag, moved to tears. He would have liked to go with him.

“My dear Serag,” he said, “if you ever go to the city, don’t forget to go by Emad El Dine Street. That’s where my apartment was.”

“Your apartment,” said old Hafez. “What has your apartment to do with this?”

“I’d like him to see it, that’s all,” said Uncle Mustapha.

“This is impossible,” said old Hafez. “You’re inciting the child to leave with such ideas. Is that how you help me?”

“He wants to show us he lived in a nice apartment,” said Rafik. “Don’t bother, we’ll take you at your word.”

“That’s not what I meant, I assure you,” said Uncle Mustapha.

“Drop this,” said old Hafez. “Haven’t you any pity for your old father?”

“You’re making us unhappy,” said Uncle Mustapha.

“I’m not trying to make you unhappy,” said Serag. “I just want to work.”

“How can we help being unhappy if we know you’re working,” said old Hafez. “We’re not egoists like you. Come, be reasonable. You’re going to make me weep.”

Old Hafez began to sniffle very effectively. He had decided on this as a last recourse to soften his son. Uncle Mustapha joined him. He had been holding back his tears but now he could let them flow. They had reached the crisis of the drama. No one, after this, could do anything.

“All right,” said Serag. “I won’t go. Only, I beg you, stop crying.”

“At last you’re reasonable!” said old Hafez. “You’re a joy to your father. Come kiss me!”

Serag went up to his father and kissed him on the forehead. He felt miserable and ashamed.

Old Hales began to call for Hoda in a piercing voice that woke Galal.

“What’s the matter now? Where are we?”

“He’s not going,” said Rafik.

“So much the better,” said Galal. “Then this is over. I can go back to bed.”

Hoda was waiting anxiously in the kitchen for the result of this family debate. She came running at her master’s call.

“Come here, girl!” said old Hafez. “You’re to fix a chicken for lunch today. Do you hear?”

He turned to Serag and said:

“Serag, my son, don’t worry. We’ll all go see the city some day.”

“Don’t count on me,” said Galal.

XII

There was nothing but those street lamps that flickered in the night, creating, all along the road, large patches of provocative shadow. Each time he reached one of these spaces in the night, Rafik slackened his pace and savored a moment of peace. He had really decided to see her; he didn’t hesitate as he had the last time. The desire he had felt for her was gone, leaving no trace of regret or bitterness. He’d thrown it away as a dead thing. He realized now that this long forgotten desire of the flesh would inevitably have led to an end of his happiness. He no longer wanted anything but the endless joy of sleep.

He felt lighter, as though moved by a gentle, tranquil power that seemed to have taken possession of him. To have grasped this elemental truth, hidden at the bottom of life — the way of the least effort — filled him with pride and gratitude. He felt as though he were floating in a decaying world that hadn’t yet discovered its true nature. The stupidity of men was boundless. Why did they have to struggle, always vicious and discontented, when the sole wisdom lay in a careless, passive attitude? It was so simple. The least beggar could have understood it!

When he thought of his fate if he had gone off with Imtissal, Rafik felt a shiver of terror. Today he would have been a slave among other slaves. And for a woman! Because she would have induced him to work — forced him to work with her inane stubbornness and female unscrupulousness.

It was this woman he was now going to see, to explain his past attitude and his real reason for having left her. He didn’t want to let a misunderstanding based on a pitiful, unhappy love affair go on any longer. She must know the truth. Rafik became more elated as he came nearer Imtissal’s house. This final explanation would relieve him of an enormous pressure that weighed upon his sleep. He must destroy this illusion of love and conclude it with dignity.

He was feeling more and more buoyant when he heard himself called. He straightened up, made a few hesitant steps then stopped. He turned, suspiciously.

“I’ve been calling you for ages,” said Mimi. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“No,” said Rafik. “What is this! Are you following me now?”

“Oh no,” said Mimi. “Believe me. I was just in the house, looking out the window. I saw you go by and ran after you.”

Mimi was breathless and seemed a little out of his head. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and his shirt was open on his chest. His whole appearance betrayed his hurry, and, also, a delirious joy.

“Why did you run after me?’ said Rafik in a hostile tone. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” said Mimi, affecting a confidence that exasperated Rafik.

“Well talk! I’m listening.”

“May I walk with you?” asked Mimi. “Just for a minute?”

Rafik hesitated, but the pleasure of humiliating Mimi was too strong. He knew the young man’s passion for his respect, and he had a sudden desire to hurt him. He said, with an edge of malice in his voice:

“I’m glad to see you. Walk with me if you like.”

“This is really good luck,” said Mimi. “I was just thinking about you when you went by.”

Mimi couldn’t quite believe in this happy encounter, for he had dreamed of it for so long. He behaved like an awkward lover, showing off with absurd gestures, and smiling a wonder-struck smile. He hadn’t detected the cold malice in Rafik’s last words and already believed in his success. However, he felt he must act with great discretion, because Rafik, he knew, was always on guard. He mustn’t offend him. While walking beside Rafik in the obscurity of the night, he looked at him constantly. He wanted to be sure of his entire willingness.

Rafik was walking with an indifferent air. He was aware of all the emotions his presence aroused in his companion, and secretly rejoiced at his uneasiness. He was waiting until he declared himself to deal him a crushing blow. But Mimi didn’t seem to want to talk; happiness had made him mute.

Now they were crossing the lighted circle beneath a street lamp. Rafik suddenly felt he couldn’t hold back his impatience any longer. He turned toward Mimi and asked:

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

Mimi faltered a moment. The brutality of this question had taken him unawares. He seemed to have forgotten everything, thinking only of the joy of being with Rafik. His smile disappeared, and he stammered;

“I wanted to ask you to come to my house and see my paintings. I must know what you think of them.”

“Well, you’ve wasted your time!” said Rafik. “I’m not coming to see your pictures. Besides, I don’t know anything about painting. My opinion wouldn’t be any use to you!”

“That’s not true,” said Mimi. “I know your ability. You’re the only intelligent person in the whole quarter. All the others are asses.”

“What makes you say that?” said Rafik.

“I know your philosophy of life,” said Mimi. “It’s magnificent.”

“It’s astonishing that you know something about my philosophy of life,” said Rafik. “I’ve never confided in you.”

“I know,” said Mimi. “But I’ve understood all alone. The whole quarter is always saying absurd things about you and your family. I always have to defend you.”

“That’s very amusing,” said Rafik. “May I know what they say?”

“They say you’re all idlers,” said Mimi. “And that you’ve sunk to the depths of laziness. They also tell an extraordinary story. It really goes beyond the limits of imagination. I don’t dare tell you. You’ll think I’m an idiot.”

“What story?” asked Rafik.

“Well!” said Mimi. “Forgive me, but they say your brother Galal sleeps for months at a time, and that it takes a pair of pliers to open his eyes.”

“All that’s perfectly true,” said Rafik. “My brother Galal has been sleeping for seven years. He only wakes up to eat.”

Mimi stopped and looked at Rafik. He suspected a joke, but Rafik’s serious expression made him change his mind. Such a thing was possible then! He was stunned, unable to speak a word.

Rafik watched him fixedly and waited. It amused him to have aroused this state of foolish astonishment in Mimi. He didn’t move for a moment, his face impassive; then he began to walk on into the night. Mimi followed him silently.

“Ah! I like that kind!”

“What kind?”

“Like your brother Galal. To sleep seven years! What an
artist!”

“You think he’s an artist?”

“Certainly. That’s what I try to explain to the imbeciles in this quarter. They take you for idlers.”

“But it’s the truth. Why contradict them?”

“They’re asses, I tell you. They don’t understand the beauty there is in this idleness. You’re an extraordinary family. And you, Rafik, you’re the only intelligent man in the world.”

“You think so?”

“I’m never wrong about you. And I’ve never understood why you’ve detested me. Don’t you feel that the two of us could revolutionize this quarter?”

“Since you understand my philosophy of life, you should know that I don’t like noise and that I’m too fond of my tranquility.”

“I’m talking about a moral revolution. We could teach these fools, these married men, what real wisdom is. I, with my painting, I express nothingness. It’s a shame you don’t write. But it’s true you’re a living example. That’s enough.”

Mimi was becoming exalted in talking; he came closer and closer to Rafik, speaking almost into his ear. He did not suspect the trap Rafik was setting for him. He was too happy to discern the least malevolence in Rafik’s affable conversation. His passion had blinded him; he let himself be seduced by his own words, ardently desiring that the road would grow longer and that the night would cover their idyll eternally. However, at moments, he sensed a subtle menace insinuating itself between him and his companion. It was a disagreeable sensation and Mimi forced himself to escape it by brushing against Rafik as if to prove his presence more strongly.

Rafik, disgusted, pulled away from Mimi, then turned on him with the sudden desire to leap at his throat. But he controlled himself; he didn’t want to give his game away yet. He was still waiting for Mimi to go far enough to destroy him with one blow. There was still time to check him when he became bolder. To tell the truth, he didn’t want to admit to himself that Mimi’s philosophy of life had aroused his curiosity. He had forgotten his mission and thought no more of Imtissal. He asked:

“And how do you express nothingness?”

“I paint the canvas in one color,” said Mimi. “Some of them are black, some red, some green. It depends on my mood. The important thing is that they represent nothing.”

“In short it’s nothing colored,” said Rafik.

“Exactly,” said Mimi, “You’ve understood me perfectly. I knew that you would. We’re made to understand each other.”

Mimi was ravished by this interest Rafik seemed to take in his painting. He thought he was living in a dream. Never had Rafik been so agreeable or so understanding. He forgot all his past injuries, walking with his eyes on the sky, smiling at the stars. He stumbled against a stone, almost fell and caught Rafik’s arm. Rafik gave him a look full of hatred.

“I forbid you to touch me. I don’t like your ways.”

“Don’t be angry. I didn’t do it on purpose. Listen. You must know that no one has ever seen my canvases. You’ll be the first to see them.”

“Thank you for the honor.”

“Oh! Don’t thank me. It’s a great joy for me. I can’t wait to know what you think of them.”

Rafik stopped, crossed his arms and looked hard at Mimi.

“It’s no use. I’m not coining to see your canvases.”

Mimi shook his head in astonishment.

“Why? What have I done? You were so nice just now.”

“You really thought I was being nice?” sneered Rafik. “Well, my dear Mimi, you were a fool to believe it! I don’t like your ways. You’re a phony. You’re not even an invert.”

“Me?” said Mimi, mortally offended. “I’m not an invert? You don’t know me. You don’t know what I can do.”

“I don’t want to know,” said Rafik.

He had just struck Mimi at the heart of his pride, and he was overjoyed. Now he was finished with him. He only had to get rid of him. He walked on, hurrying.

Mimi seemed to have collapsed. It was as though Rafik’s words had struck him fatally. He remained without moving for a long time, standing by the side of the road. He hadn’t expected this supreme insult. No injury could have wounded him so deeply as this denial of his abnormality. All his artistic vanity expressed itself in the display of his inversion. For Rafik to deny this! He couldn’t bear it. Suddenly he realized he was alone and an overwhelming terror seized him. He began to run after Rafik, uttering loud cries. But he couldn’t catch him.