“Just do as I do, Kamel,” Khalil continued. “In one ear and out the other. No matter how humiliating, the pain will fade. What matters is being able to earn a living.”
I was not convinced by his logic, but I smiled and clasped his hand.
“Thank you, Khalil.”
He gave me a quizzical look, as if to be sure he had reached me. Feigning joviality, I told him, “Don’t worry! I won’t do anything stupid.”
I went home and sat at my desk. My stomach was churning over the insult to me and to my family.
The following day, I went to a meeting of the organization. There was a long agenda and a discussion of recent events, including the stance of the nationalist workers and the war against the independent trade unions being waged by the palace, the English, the minority capitalist parties and the Muslim Brotherhood, who were well known for their opportunism. Finally, the prince spoke, “Before I declare this meeting over, I want to inform you that I have decided to assign a mission to Abdoun and Kamel. I briefed Abdoun yesterday. I need to sit down with you today, Kamel.”
Once the others had left, I, now sitting alone with the prince, suddenly blurted out, “Sir, there was an incident with James Wright yesterday. I think you should know about it.”
The prince looked apprehensive as I told him in detail what had happened the day before. I felt humiliated all over again, repeating what Wright had said about the Nubians that he considered my forebears. The prince listened and at last he spoke, “James Wright thinks you’re responsible for his problem.”
“And what’s his problem?”
“His problem is that Mitsy refused the king, and he thinks that you are the reason.”
“He’s wrong. Mitsy has her own mind.”
“I believe you, but he won’t.”
“Even if I were the reason, what right does that give him?”
“None, but don’t forget that James Wright thinks that his daughter’s friendship with an African is an offense to him and his family. A racist is just an ignorant man afraid of people who are different from him. However sickening you may have found his story, he didn’t insult you directly, and he’d defend himself by saying that he was only remarking on a well-known episode from history and that you took it the wrong way.”
“To insinuate that my ancestors were put in cages like animals—how else could I take it?”
Visibly moved, the prince smiled at me. “I’ll have a word with him tomorrow. At the very least, he won’t be repeating it.”
I thanked the prince, then suddenly felt as if I could burst out in tears, and it must have been obvious that I was trying to stop myself. Noticing this, the prince withdrew and played a bit with his photographic equipment. After a while, he came back to see whether I had pulled myself together again.
“You need to learn,” he said affectionately, “how to direct your anger to the larger purpose. Who gave the Englishman the right to insult you? The British occupation makes him feel he has the unquestioned authority to demean Egyptians. His offensive behavior is a direct result.”
“But I can’t just sit saying nothing,” I exclaimed, “until the British evacuate the country.”
The prince raised his hand as if to silence me.
“Kamel,” he said wistfully. “Please. You’ll take us back to square one. I told you that I’ll have words with him. Now, I want to brief you on the mission. I want you to think about it as the appropriate way to respond to Wright’s insults.”
“I’m ready,” I answered at once, “to carry out any orders you give me.”
“Bravo,” the prince smiled.
He got up and went over to a wooden chest at the far end of the room. He came back with a blue package, sat down next to me and opened it, taking out a small glass orb and handing it to me. I rolled it around in my hand, examining it, as he said, “I’ll now tell you exactly what you have to do.”
SALEHA
He started pulling at my nightdress, and I understood what he wanted. I took it off and almost died of shame. He pushed me down on my back and then lay on top of me. I was breathing heavily and could feel my own heart racing. He put his arms around me and slipped his tongue into my mouth. I could smell the tobacco on his breath and thought I was going to faint. Almost immediately, he got off me and sat up on the bed. He smiled at me and said, “Congratulations, now you’re a woman.”
He took a quick shower and, after a few minutes, came back and lay down beside me, kissing me on the cheek and whispering, “Good night.” I lay there staring into the darkness until I heard his breathing become regular. I took a shower and returned to bed.
I was bewildered by what had happened. Abd el-Barr on top of me, the way he lay there sleeping with the smell of tobacco still on his breath, those things made me feel incredulity and shame. It was the same routine every night we were in Alexandria. The day after we returned to Cairo, my mother and Aisha came to see me. The moment I opened the door and saw them, I flung myself into my mother’s arms. She burst out crying and said, “I can’t believe that I’m coming to visit you in your home, Saleha. May God have mercy upon you, Abd el-Aziz. If only you had lived to see your daughter married.”
I hugged and kissed her and tried to calm her down. My mother and Aisha had brought enough food to last a week. Duck stuffed with onion, pigeon stuffed with cracked wheat, three roast chickens as well as a pan of savory rice with clotted cream. After a while, Abd el-Barr came out of the bedroom, welcoming my mother and Aisha and joining us in the sitting room. He was polite and friendly as usual. I got up to make some tea, and my mother and Aisha followed me into the kitchen. My mother was flustered, but Aisha was laughing.
“We’ve come to see if you’re all right! Is everything fine?”
“Thank God, yes,” I said, putting the kettle on.
Aisha sidled over to me and asked in a low voice, “You mean the thing’s been done?”
I said nothing, dying of embarrassment.
My mother took pity on me and grabbed Aisha away by the hand, saying, “That’s enough, missus! The girl’s shy.”
Aisha, a few steps away, looked me up and down. “So,” she asked, “are you…satisfied?”
“Yes.”
“Fantastic!”
She made me laugh in spite of myself and put her arms around me, whispering gently, “Do you want help with anything?”
At that moment, I felt I loved Aisha. For all her faults, she, unlike her daughter, Fayeqa, was a wonderful, sincere person. Day by day, I started getting used to my new life. The feeling of being a housewife made me happy. My home was my kingdom to organize the way I wanted. I would wake up at first light and take a shower, get myself ready and go and make my husband’s breakfast. Abd el-Barr needed a few hours’ more sleep than I did. He never woke up before noon. I would make him a hot breakfast of mashed fava beans, falafel and an omelet. Then he would take a shower and go to work, and I would not see him again until after midnight. When he came home, he would find me dressed up and waiting with what should have been his dinner. It was taking me a little time to get used to the shift in my daily routine. I was an early sleeper, and I ended up having to drink a big mug of coffee in order not to doze off before my husband came home. Marriage did not change Abd el-Barr’s character. He was still as generous and kind as he had been during our engagement, and in the first days I felt almost happy. But there was something that caused a ripple in the halcyon calm, something I felt too ashamed to even think about. I tried to ignore it, but it kept me awake at night, preying on my thoughts.
Nights with Abd el-Barr continued along the same lines: he would sit on the edge of the bed, completely naked, and then ask me to take off my nightdress in front of him. At the beginning, when I protested, he just stared at me and said, “You should do what your husband asks. Get undressed.”
I did as he ordered, trying not to look at him. He gazed at my naked body, filling me with shame. Then he would start kissing me and get me to lie down on my back, at whic
h point he would wrap himself around me and wriggle a little on top of me until I felt a little wet spot on my body. Then he would jump up and go to the bathroom. When he returned, he would plant a little kiss on my cheek, before lying down with his back to me and sinking into a deep sleep. I always waited for him to drop off before going to the bathroom. Standing under the hot shower, I would go over it and feel strangely sullied. I felt like I had been accosted and would sob quietly so that Abd el-Barr would not hear me. I had no idea why I was crying. Was it because he forced me to get undressed? Or because he just plumped himself on top of me without saying anything? Shouldn’t he say “I love you” or whisper some sweet nothings? I felt sure that what we were doing in bed was not normal. None of the things Aisha had explained to me took place. I noticed that Abd el-Barr was waking up a little tense in the morning. He would not look at me and hardly said anything. As we ate breakfast together, he would gradually come back to himself. As time passed, it became clear to me: it was I who was suffering from some defect and most certainly incapable of satisfying my husband in bed. It was obvious that he could hardly bear me and was just making do. Overwhelmed by guilt, I tried to ingratiate myself with him. I made him ever more delicious dishes to eat, pranced around and tried to get him to laugh. All of this to try to make up for the defect he had discovered in me. I could manage to put it out of my mind during the day, but each night brought the same ordeal.
After a few weeks, I could not bear it anymore. I had to do something. I told Abd el-Barr that I wanted to go and visit my mother. As I was walking up the stairs, I felt very emotional, realizing just how much I missed our home, and the wonderful memories flooded through my mind. Rather than going straight in, I knocked on Aisha’s door. She saw the state I was in.
“What’s the matter, my little darling?” she asked me.
Feeling sorry for myself and unable to withstand her kindness, I started crying. Aisha put her arms around me and started soothing me. Then she went and made me a glass of lemonade. This time when she asked what was wrong, I answered weakly, “I’ve got a problem with Abd el-Barr.”
“Nothing serious, God forbid.”
I told her what happened between us. She looked concerned and asked me for precise details. Looking down at the floor, since I could not look her in the eye, I told her.
When I had finished, Aisha sighed. “My darling little one!”
“What am I doing wrong, Aisha?”
“He’s a bit weak down there.”
“Weak down there?”
“Of course. There are some men who feel so intimidated on their wedding night that they can’t hold themselves back, but within a day or two, they can perform normally. But Abd el-Barr has been like this for more than two months. He can’t seem to help it.”
“Could I be the cause of that?”
“Nonsense!” she said beating her breast and sighing. “You’re as pretty as the moon, Saleha, like a white horse in a fairy tale, but the steed doesn’t know how to mount you.”
The comparison made me uneasy, but I was at least happy to hear that I was not doing anything wrong. At least there was nothing wrong with me as a woman. Aisha again went over the proper way to have marital relations.
“All in all,” she sighed, “we have to give him a chance. He might improve. And you can help him along.”
“How?”
Aisha cackled and her eyes twinkled. She leaned in and started giving me all sorts of obscene advice. The surprising thing is that I listened to her. Perhaps I no longer felt embarrassed, having got used to her way of speaking, or perhaps I had decided that I wanted to do all I could to help Abd el-Barr overcome this impediment. I got Aisha to agree not to mention this matter to my mother. It would only upset her.
I left Aisha’s apartment and went to my mother’s, where I tried to behave as if everything was fine, and then I went home in a different frame of mind. I felt spurred on. Knowing what I had to do, I was getting into the spirit, like someone taking a test she had studied for. I was all set to help my husband the way Aisha had told me, to get over my shyness and do everything to rescue our marital relations. As Aisha was always saying, “When a married couple are in bed, shame and sin go out of the window.”
The first two nights, Abd el-Barr simply went to sleep. On the third night, as usual, he asked me to get naked. I took off my nightdress in front of him. He put his arms around me and had me lie down on the bed, then lay on top of me, kissing me. I had to act quickly, before he could climax. So I wriggled a little and pushed him gently aside. Then I started caressing his body. I kept my eyes shut, concentrating on Aisha’s instructions and letting my hand carry them out. Suddenly, Abd el-Barr shoved me so hard that I almost fell on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to help you,” I answered without a second thought.
He jumped off the bed and looked me right in the eyes, his face grimacing as if in pain. I had never seen him as angry. He paced up and down, naked, and then came back and sat in front of me on the edge of the bed, as if trying to catch his breath.
“I just don’t believe it.”
I said nothing, and he screamed at my face, “Saleha! How can you do those filthy things? Is that what you were brought up to do?
I had covered my naked body with a sheet, saying nothing. I was afraid. My life seemed to be getting only more complicated. I felt really bad about what I had done. How could I have told Aisha, and why did I just do what she told me without thinking?
“I want to know,” Abd el-Barr said quietly, “how you learned to do that.”
“Aisha told me.”
“What has Aisha got to do with it?”
“I consulted her.”
“Why would you consult her?”
“I felt that something wasn’t right between us. Aisha has a lot of experience. She told me what I could do to help you.”
Abd el-Barr sprang up again, threw on a galabiyya and sat down in the chair near the window. I got dressed and sat down on the bed again. Until that moment, I thought we would be able to sort it out. I would apologize. I would tell him that I knew I had been wrong and would not do it again.
In a subdued voice, I said, “I’m sorry, Abd el-Barr. I didn’t mean to.”
He said nothing. He was sitting back in the chair, and I could not make out his expression. I saw him lean over the table. He was doing something with his hands. I called his name. He did not turn around. I got up and edged my way over to him and, looking over his shoulder, it took me quite a time to absorb what I was seeing. It was very strange. I could see a razor blade broken into two halves and lines of smooth white powder. Abd el-Barr was leaning forward and snorting like a bull. I was alarmed.
“What are you doing?” I shouted.
He did not respond. He was not listening. He inhaled all the powder in two snorts and leaned back in the chair, saying nothing, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. Then he slowly stood up and turned toward me. His eyes were glaring and his face thunderous. I could hear him panting and see the beads of sweat on his brow. Suddenly, he grabbed me by the hair with a jerk. I screamed out in pain and he shouted at me, “How could you go telling Aisha about our private life?”
“I’m sorry!”
He carried on shouting and yanking my head. “Are you trying to embarrass me, you bitch?”
“Forgive me, Abdu. I won’t do it again.”
My hair was hurting me, but I was more upset than anything. I was ready to kiss his hand to make him forgive me. I pleaded, “Stop, Abdu. By God Almighty, I won’t do it again.”
“Shut your mouth.”
He punched me in the face. I went dizzy. My vision was blurry and I thought I was going to faint. I had to escape. He hit me again and kicked me in the stomach. It was excruciating, but I did not scream. He pushed me, and I fell onto the bed. He threw himself on top of me and reached down, trying to push my legs apart. In spite of my shock and terror, I managed to clench my thighs tightly toget
her.
“Open them!” he panted.
He kept trying to force my thighs apart, and as I realized that he was trying to get his fingers inside me, I decided to put up a struggle. I was focusing all my strength into my thighs, but Abd el-Barr was strong. My muscles were almost in a cramp from clenching, and I knew I could not hold it much longer and that he was going to win. Everything went dark, and I felt my body going limp. Suddenly, I had an idea. I bit him on his upper arm. I can hardly believe what I did. I sank my teeth into his arm and could feel them piercing his flesh. He screamed, pushed me away and jumped off the bed. I felt a heavy blow to my back as I tried to move away. Stumbling out of the bedroom, I pushed over the armchair and pulled the door shut behind me. This slowed down Abd el-Barr just long enough for me to reach the front door. I ran down the stairs as quickly as I could and got out onto the street. It was two o’clock in the morning. The few people out and about threw me a curious glance. I realized that Abd el-Barr was not coming after me, but all the same, out of sheer terror, I half ran all the way home. Then I remembered that I did not have the key. I kept pushing the buzzer until my mother opened the door. She looked worried, and I threw myself into her arms.
“For God’s sake, Saleha, I hope nothing awful’s happened!”
31
Mahmud drank a whole bottle of red wine and wolfed down half a roast chicken. When he finished, Dagmar smiled and asked, “Do you want anything else?”
Mahmud shook his head to say no. Dagmar got up and brought him the other half of the chicken, which he devoured in a matter of minutes. Dagmar said nothing, but Mahmud realized that he had now eaten all the food on offer. He got up and walked across the hall to the bathroom, which he noted was nice and large and all done out in a soft shade of turquoise. He washed his hands and face and went back to the sitting room. Dagmar was wearing a baby-doll nightdress, which showed her scraggy body with its sagging liver-spotted skin. Her breasts were no more than two sad memories. She tried to snuggle up to him on the sofa, but he held up his hand to stop her.