The Harafish (13 page)

“It can turn into a boon if you take it easy,” said Samaha.

“With others coveting your position. It's horrible, the slide downhill.”

Again nobody spoke until at last he said irritably, “Thank you. You can go now.”

54
.

Salahe kar koja va mane kharab koja

Bebin tatavote rah az kujast ta bekuja
.

He sat immersed in the chanting under the light of the full moon, by whose alchemy the paving stones in the square were changed to silver.

Shortly before midnight he started for home; as he passed Sheikh Said's shop the sheikh came out to speak to him: “Have you heard the news, master?”

He looked blank and the sheikh said, “Your men have ambushed the Atuf clan. Their new chief's victory parade!”

He started angrily. “Impossible!” he shouted.

“It's true. And they'll beat them, God willing.”

“Where?”

“At Mitwalli Gate. To put the new chief in his place.”

“Behind my back?” he fumed.

He struck the ground with his knotted stick and strode off into the darkness. Said al-Faqi watched him until he had disappeared from view. “Incontinent old fool,” he muttered scornfully as he turned to go back into his shop.

55
.

The battle had begun a few minutes before he arrived. Some of his men saw him and cried, “Shams al-Din al-Nagi!”

The procession had erupted into a series of running fights and the clash of sticks filled the air. Sulayman was working wonders.
The Atuf chief attacked with accuracy, striking confusion into Shams al-Din's men.

Shams al-Din hurled himself into the thick of the battle. He leapt nimbly in front of his son and came face-to-face with the Atuf chief. Dodging a heavy blow, he began to wield his stout stick with speed and dexterity. A strange power possessed him and he fought better than ever. He appeared exuberant, inspired, fearless. His men's enthusiasm increased in leaps and bounds and the clatter of weapons rose to a frenzy. Drunk on the heady wine of battle he performed miracles. Blows rained down on him but he was immune, unstoppable. His rival was put out of action and from then on the Atuf men lost their spirit and fell back defeated.

In less than an hour the victory parade had turned into a funeral. The colored lights were broken, flutes and tambourines lay smashed on the ground, flowers were trampled underfoot, and the men had all fled.

Shams al-Din stood panting, his forehead covered in blood. His men encircled him; Sulayman came forward and kissed his hand, but he motioned him away. “You owe me an explanation,” he said.

“It was loyalty, not treason,” said Sulayman apologetically.

The men cheered and shouted, “God bless Shams al-Din.”

56
.

They went home with Shams al-Din at their head, braving the darkness with flickering candles, and chanting in voices to waken the dead, “God bless him! God bless him!”

Then someone sang in a tuneful voice:

O sweet carnation in a garden full of mint
.

But Shams al-Din did not enjoy his resounding victory for long. He soon became detached from the group and found himself in exalted, dreary isolation. He had heard it said that everything was worthless, even victory. And that if there were a lot of people cheering you, there were always many more listening to them
cheering, Ashur al-Nagi came toward him, carrying his beautiful mother in her cumin-colored shroud. He was overjoyed to see Ashur after his long absence and told him he'd been certain he would come back someday; but hadn't his mother been buried already?

In happy moments a cloud would descend and bear him up into the vault of heaven. Then he would take no notice of the waves of depression which tried to drag him toward the unknown. It mattered little whether his legs carried him along or failed him. But he was alone. Alone, and suffering. What was the weakness slowly stealing over him? The lights were fading. The closer he got to the alley, the farther away it went. He was going toward infinity. His greatest ambition now was to reach his bed. The cries rang out: “God bless him! God bless him!”

Alone, Shams al-Din wrestled with the unknown. It blocked his path, made the ground rise up in front of him, snatched away his great victory with a mocking grin; it clenched its fist and struck him in the chest with a force he'd never experienced before.

Shams al-Din moaned and fell and his men caught him.

1
.

T
he whole neighborhood was upset by Shams al-Din's death and everybody contributed to building a tomb which would be a worthy resting place for him. Not a soul was absent from his funeral cortege. His heroic fortitude became the stuff of legend, ranking with the miracles of the saints, and he was given the title of “Vanquisher of Old Age and Illness.” His just reign, free from corruption, was remembered forever alongside that of his father, the great Ashur. He was forgiven for his romantic escapades but no one forgot that he had always worked hard for a living and died in poverty.

Thanks to him and his father the alley existed as an ideal in people's minds for years to come.

2
.

Sulayman Shams al-Din al-Nagi succeeded his father as clan chief. He was a giant like his grandfather, without the grace and beauty of his father, but he had all the charms of a typical man of his people. No one came forward to contest his election and Atris
joined his clan with enthusiasm and devotion. The nature and quality of life was unchanged. For a few days hope flickered in the hearts of the notables, then died away. Sulayman was no more than twenty but he followed in his father's footsteps without hesitation. Protector of the harafish, he muzzled the rich, fought criminals and thugs, and was content to carry on his father's trade.

As was to be expected the chiefs of the neighboring clans challenged him and he fought battle after battle against them, always winning; true, his victories did not have the same aura as those of his father and grandfather, but they were sufficient to secure peace and enhance the alley's prestige. The fighting left him with permanent scars on his forehead and neck, but they were fine evidence of his courage.

It would be fair to say that he was sometimes tempted to a life of ease and opulence and that he read similar desires in the eyes of his brothers and helpers, but he frowned on such weakness, discouraged it, and made his tender heart receptive to the fascination of true greatness.

3
.

Fathiyya—his friend Atris' sister—had been at Quran school with him. His father's funeral was the first time he had seen her for years. Despite his grief he took a fancy to her. She was about his age and full of life, with a flat nose, dark brown skin, and beautiful eyes. He felt marriage would protect him from behaviors unworthy of a chief. So he asked Atris for her hand and they were married at once. The people of the alley rejoiced at the news: they counted it a victory for the harafish and a triumph of virtue.

4
.

Ten peaceful years went by. Sulayman did his duty with the feeling that being chief was a heavy burden and only on rare occasions was there any joy in it. Fathiyya bore one daughter after another.

In the last of his peaceful years Sulayman saw Saniyya al-Samari.

As he sat in the café resting after work she would pass in the carriage belonging to her father, a rich flour merchant. She looked radiant in her fine dress, her white veil emphasizing the calm, dark magic of her eyes, and her fleeting presence filled the air with warmth and inspiration.

He looked at the carriage, then at the Samaris' tall house. The bells on the horse's harness made him think of chiefs dancing after winning battles. Suddenly his cart seemed poor and mean for a man in his position. Few rose to their feet out of deference to him. The monastery door was not the only one to shut in his face. Weakness was repugnant, but hadn't Ashur been madly in love with Fulla? Wasn't the Samari house more salubrious than Darwish's bar? Would Ashur have held back if Fulla had been the Bannan's daughter? Did the fact that he took over the Bannan's house compromise his goodness and honesty? He could destroy his enemies, resist temptation, but love was destiny. Even Shams al-Din had fallen in love with Qamr. The harafish would be alarmed, the rich would rejoice, but Sulayman would never change. In any case, since he was fated to love Saniyya, he could do nothing about it. Of course, Fathiyya was still his faithful wife and mother of his children. She was also the sister of his loyal friend Atris. His new love swamped her like crashing waves but she was firmly rooted in her place. How sweet were the trials of a fierce and irresistible passion!

5
.

After the Friday prayer Sheikh Said appeared at his side. They walked along together and as they reached the café the sheikh said, “I had a strange dream, master.”

Sulayman looked at him inquiringly and he said, “I dreamed some good people wished to come and see you.”

Sulayman's heart jumped nervously and he felt as if he had suddenly been stripped naked. To hide his confusion he murmured sarcastically, “What a diabolical dream!”

Earnestly the sheikh continued, “But they thought the first move should come from you.”

“What did they want from a humble carter?” Sulayman asked craftily.

“They wanted him to lead them to the undisputed lord of the alley!” answered the sheikh.

6
.

Temptation rose like a mountain in his path. He summoned Atris to the café. “I have a secret to tell you,” he said.

Atris waited attentively and Sulayman said, “You're my friend. What would you think if I married again?”

“You want to get rid of Fathiyya?” asked Atris simply.

“Not at all. She'll still have pride of place.”

Atris burst out laughing. “You know very well I've just got married for the third time!”

“We're not going to argue about one woman more or less, but there's a bit of a problem with this one…”

Smiling, Atris broke in: “You mean she's upper class?”

“Does everyone know, then?” exclaimed Sulayman in alarm.

“Love has a powerful scent!”

“What do people say?”

“Who cares what they say?”

“What do the harafish say?”

“To hell with the harafish,” said Atris exuberantly. “Your faithful followers will dance with joy.”

Sulayman interrupted him sternly. “You've got the wrong end of the stick, Atris,” he said, “Sulayman al-Nagi will never change.”

The glow of enthusiasm faded from Atris' face. “The lady's going to share Fathiyya's basement, is she?”

“Whatever happens, Sulayman won't change. The truth of the matter is,” he went on after a pause, “that you're all as dissatisfied with justice and equality as the notables are!”

“What other clans put up with having as little as we do?”

“Sulayman will never change, Atris,” he persisted.

7
.

Said al-Faqi conveyed Sulayman's request to al-Samari who granted it with alacrity. In his heart al-Samari despised the carter and his humble origins but was eager for this alliance with the great chief, lord of the alley and oppressor of the rich. His only condition was that his daughter and her new husband should occupy a wing of his house until he could build her a suitable house of her own. Sulayman had no objection. Fathiyya was dumbfounded and wept bitterly but submitted to her fate. The rich were overjoyed, the harafish apprehensive, but Sulayman announced that he would not change.

The wedding was celebrated with a feast the like of which the alley had not witnessed before.

8
.

Thus an alliance was formed between the clan chief Sulayman and the notable al-Samari.

“A holy alliance of power and prestige,” commented Sheikh Said.

He had been well rewarded for his efforts, despite Sulayman's repeated declarations that he would never change. But life had taken on a new taste, and the clouds swelled with the waters of Paradise. Some women, Sulayman told himself, were like salty white cheese, others like butter and cream. The fragrant odor made him drunk; the smooth skin caressed and soothed him; the sweet voice sent him into ecstasies. Lighthearted elegance filled his life. Spending several days each week in the Samari house, he discovered the pleasure of family gatherings, the warmth of a soft bed, the smoothness of fine cloth, the splendid luxury of hot water in a comfortable bathroom, curtains, cushions, quilts, ornaments and objets d'art, carpets and rugs, jewelry and precious stones, and, above all, sumptuous meals, varied meats, magical sweets. The chief of the clan marveled at how this enchanting paradise could exist in a tumbledown corner of the alley. Outside he preserved his
normal appearance and insisted on continuing to work for a living as usual. To the people of the alley he acted with the humility he still associated with true greatness. But he noticed a new wind beginning to blow in the calm air, stirring up sparks which threatened to start fires all over the place. Sharp eyes could see his gut swelling with good food and drink. Around his secret paradise people began to talk, especially his followers. For the first time he felt obliged to distribute a share of the protection money to them on feast days, in the greatest secrecy, and without doing noticeable damage to the poor. He felt he was taking the first step down a hateful, slippery road and beginning to stray from al-Nagi's way. It appalled him as well that he was living in such luxury at the Samaris' while Fathiyya and her daughters continued to eke out a drab, bleak existence in the basement room. So once again he put his hand in the public funds and showered them with presents, descending a step farther down the slippery slope.

“I'm not really doing anything to harm the poor,” he would say to console himself.

But his conscience would not leave him in peace and his life was clouded with nagging worries. Saniyya began to insist that he give up his trade and hire someone else to drive the cart. He proudly refused, trying to exert his authority like the strong man he was. She pretended to give in, leaving the insidious, destructive power of her love to do its work.

Whenever Sulayman felt he might be changing, he said resolutely to himself, “I haven't changed and I never will.”

9
.

At the Samaris' dinner table he came face-to-face with the men of rank and prestige in the neighborhood. Previously they had avoided him because they were afraid, or preferred a quiet life. Now they looked at him trustingly, like people watching a lion at the zoo.

They drank toasts and the blood coursed boldly through their veins; the first glimmers of hope appeared.

“Perhaps you thought we could only submit to you if you used
force,” said the owner of the caravanserai. “Don't you know, master, that in the long run justice is valued by those who lose by it as well as by those who gain from it?”

“Who loses?” Sulayman asked hesitantly.

“You'll be glad to know you've saved us from hatred, envy, and from being robbed!”

“But,” the coffee merchant picked up the thread, “we find in your perfect justice a hint of oppression.”

“Oppression?” asked Sulayman, frowning.

“You oppress yourself and your followers.”

“What's wrong in you having your fair share?” asked the herbalist.

“You shed your blood to defend our honor, after all,” remarked his father-in-law.

“The chief and his men are notables, or that's how it ought to be,” said the grain merchant.

“No!” objected Sulayman. “That's not how it was in my father's or grandfather's time.”

“If your grandfather hadn't gone to live in the Bannan house the alley would never have known what it meant to be wealthy and successful.”

“He was a greater clan chief than he was a notable,” persisted Sulayman.

“The clan chief was made to be a notable. Strike me dead if I'm wrong!”

He laughed derisively, overcome by the wine's heat.

10
.

Saniyya gave birth to two sons, Bikr and Khidr, and Sulayman enjoyed what he considered true fatherhood at last. The construction of Saniyya's new house was completed and he spent happy times there, marred only by his obligatory visits to Fathiyya's basement. Saniyya ruled his heart completely, just as she dominated the household. As time passed she worked on his emotions like a powerful drug. He stopped working and let one of his men take his place. He increased the handouts to himself and his followers, who
little by little set up house closer to the notables and abandoned or neglected their simple occupations. The poor were not forgotten altogether but their share in the wealth diminished. The alley's glowing image changed; people began to ask what had happened to Ashur's legacy, to Shams al-Din's honesty. The clan was on its guard and threatened those who expressed their discontent. Saniyya raised Bikr and Khidr in luxury and comfort, then sent them to the Quran school and prepared them to go into business; neither of them showed any signs of wanting to succeed his father. When they were in their late teens she bought them a grain business and set them on the path to becoming respected and influential merchants.