Adrift on the Nile

  “Nothing is as it was.”

  She closed her eyes. “I did not sleep for a minute.”

  “Neither did I.”

  She sighed, and then said: “Something irreplaceable has died in me.”

  “I have been hounded by death as well.”

  She held out the evening paper to him. “The body of a man in his fifties,” she said. “Half naked. Sustaining fractures to the spine, legs, and skull. Hit by a car. The perpetrators fled. His identity, and therefore next of kin, have not been discovered.”

  He read the article, and then threw the newspaper aside. “We are back in hell again,” he said.

  “We never left hell,” she replied.

  “We never left hell,” he echoed.

  “We are really murderers.”

  “We are really murderers. And what is more,” he continued, looking out at the Nile, “I am as good as jobless now.” And he told the story of the Director General. They exchanged lifeless looks as she said how sorry she was.

  “Have you any other source of income, apart from the Ministry?” she asked.

  He laughed, in a way that dispensed with a reply. “Our friends pay the rent on the boat, and the expenses of our evening parties, but…”

  “It is rare that someone is actually dismissed.”

  “He will tell every living person that I am a degenerate. A drug addict!”

  “How dreadful! One catastrophe after another.”

  They withdrew into themselves.

  And then the houseboat shook, again and again. The friends all came in together, and their faces were strange.

  They fear trouble from Samara, Anis thought. Ragab asked him, pointing to the water pipe, why it was not filled and lit, and he replied that there was nothing to put in it. He thought: He’s trying to make light of it, but in vain. It seemed that they all knew about the newspaper report, and it was not long before they also learned of his downfall at the hands of the Director General. “What disasters!” sighed Ali.

  “We must get rid of the pipe immediately,” said Ahmad earnestly.

  They glared at him.

  “The Director General could well organize a raid on the houseboat!” he argued; and then and there he rose to his feet, and hurled the pipe and the tobacco into the Nile. Then he threw himself down on a mattress. “We should consider this place a danger zone until things clear up,” he said.

  They looked at each other in undisguised misery. “Paradise has gone,” said Anis.

  And when no one replied, he spoke again. “That trip was doomed from the start. Why did you think of going out?”

  “We must forget what is past,” Ragab said sharply.

  Samara snorted. “How can we forget, when there is a murdered man behind us!”

  “That is why we must forget!” said Ragab harshly.

  “It’s beyond the bounds of possibility.”

  Ragab looked at her for a long time. No one knows what is going on in his head; no one knows about the trials of love. Could things get even worse than they already are? Ragab looked at everyone in turn. “I guessed what would happen here before I came,” he said. “Now that we are at a distance from the event and at liberty to think calmly, we must declare our positions.”

  “I thought we had decided that it was all over!” said Ali in annoyance.

  “It seems that Samara has another opinion!”

  “Please don’t go over all that again,” said Saniya anxiously. “I’m completely broken down already.”

  “I spent a hellish night,” added Layla. “We have a lot of suffering ahead of us. That is enough, surely.”

  Ragab said again: “But it seems, as I said, that Samara is of a different opinion.”

  Ali turned to Samara. The tone of his voice was grave and sad. “Samara,” he said, “tell me what you think. We are all grief-stricken—agonized. None of us has had a wink of sleep. There is not one of us who likes murder, or could even imagine committing it. We share in your feelings, and the news has cut us to the quick. A poor man—perhaps migrating from the country. A stranger with no family. There is no way that we can right the wrong. How could there be? If it turns out that he has a family, then we will find a way of compensating them, but what can we do now?”

  She did not utter a word; nor did she raise her eyes to his.

  “Perhaps you are saying to yourself that our duty is clear,” he continued. “Theoretically, that is true. We should have stopped, not fled; and when we were sure that he was dead, we should have gone to the nearest police station and made our statements of guilt, and then gone through the courts and paid the full price—is that not so?”

  “Which in my case would be prison without doubt!” said Ragab.

  “And appalling disgrace for everyone, including you!” added Ali.

  “And even then the man would not rise from the dead, or benefit from our sacrifices in any way!” said Mustafa.

  Ali spoke again. “I know you better than the others do,” he went on. “You are an exemplary girl in every sense, but a little adaptability is essential if we are not to collapse under the burdens of life. This is an unfortunate accident, not a matter where country or principle is at stake. The question is simple. An unknown man was killed by mistake; and there is a responsibility which I do not deny. The stupidity of it is obvious. I wish to God it had not happened! But are we all of so little importance to you? Do you really wish to sacrifice our happiness and honor—and let me add, yours as well—for the sake of nothing?”

  “I shall be good for nothing after this!” she murmured, sighing.

  “That is a groundless fear. Thousands are killed every day without reason, and the world does not grind to a halt. You will always find opportunities for work, and a tolerant attitude toward us won’t make you any less keen, or clever, or stop you from getting to the bottom of things—or anything else you care to name! Perhaps it will make you redouble your efforts.”

  “As do feelings of sin sometimes?” she said.

  “But it is not your sin, at any rate; and these situations are apt to compel us to think about everything. Ragab has really developed, because of you, at least in his attitude toward women. Think on that. Be kind.”

  And she said, with great bitterness: “So I am going to certain death, then!”

  “We are all going to our deaths,” said Khalid.

  “I mean a more appalling death.”

  “There is nothing more appalling than death.”

  “There is the death that seizes you when you are still alive.”

  “No, no! I will not allow us to be sacrificed because of a metaphor!” protested Khalid.

  And at that point Ragab shouted in great agitation: “The newspapers will report that you were in the company of men with a bad reputation, out in the dead of night, involved in criminality, in murder! Doesn’t that mean anything to you at all?”

  His harshness enraged her, and she cried vehemently: “No, it does not!”

  Now he became incensed. “This courage is a bluff! You know that we will all stand against you!”

  “Lies!”

  “Then off to the police station with us!” Ragab cried—and Mustafa bellowed furiously at him: “Everything we have just tried to do, would you, with your stupidity, destroy in one second?”

  Saniya rose and went over to Ragab. She touched his hand to calm him down, and kissed his forehead. Then she stood in front of Samara. “Do you really mean to sacrifice yourself and us?” she asked calmly.

  “Yes,” Samara persisted, still angry.

  “So be it,” Saniya replied. “Do with us what you will.”

  But before Samara could say a word, Amm Abduh entered. Everyone was silent.

  He gave Anis a small package. “I nearly wore myself out getting that,” he said.

  “Get rid of it at once,” Ahmad told Anis.

  “No.”

  “Well, I’ve had my say!” Ahmad said.

  “There’s nothing easier than throwing it into
the water if we have to.”

  “What has happened?” asked Amm Abduh.

  Anis gave it back to Amm Abduh for him to make a cup of coffee with it. The old man took it away. His arrival had subtly altered the atmosphere.

  Silence reigned. Then Mustafa said sadly: “The evil eye is upon us.”

  “Let’s roll a joint with it—who knows…”

  Ali’s face shone with a sudden optimism. “I bet that Ragab will have children!”

  And then Anis laughed. He laughed in spite of his tense nerves. “You’ve made a mountain out of a molehill,” he said.

  And when no one paid him any attention, he continued: “Samara is a girl of principles, but she is also a woman with a heart.”

  They looked at him warningly, in open displeasure, but he continued to speak. “We are indebted to love.”

  More than one voice implored him to be quiet, but he concluded: “For it is love that has rescued us from the judgment of principles!”

  Samara, irritated, muttered: “For heaven’s sake!” and then burst into a storm of crying, as if her nerves had been suddenly ravaged. Ali approached her, moved by her distress, to calm her. As for Ragab, he had thrown himself at Anis, yelling: “You! You!”

  And he gave him a great slap on the face.

  Ahmad grasped Ragab’s arm and pulled it violently back. “You’re mad!” he said, his voice shaking. “What a calamity! What madness!”

  Samara stopped crying. She gaped at them. There was a deathly silence. Anis took the slap without moving. He looked at Ragab for a long time without speaking. Mustafa started to approach him, to support him, but Anis put out a hand. “If you please,” he said.

  “It was a terrible thing to do,” said Mustafa, “without the slightest doubt—but the culprit is a friend, he did not mean it. He was blinded by anger—”

  “No!” Anis bellowed, with a voice like thunder.

  Amm Abduh came, as if in answer to his call. “The coffee is on the stove,” he said. Anis motioned for him to leave. Then he rose to his feet and began to pace back and forth across the room, and to speak inaudibly to himself. Then suddenly he leaped upon Ragab and fastened his hands around his throat. Ragab immediately struck at his arm to free his neck, but Anis butted him on the nose, and they lunged at each other, punching and kicking. The others rushed to separate them, but then Anis staggered and crashed to the ground. Amm Abduh appeared at the door, and stood looking at them, bewildered, muttering: “No! No!” Ahmad ordered him to leave, but he continued to repeat: “No! No!”—finally retreating under the pressure of their combined gazes, shaking his head miserably.

  Mustafa and Ali helped Anis to an armchair. The others surrounded Ragab, who was wiping away the blood trickling from his nose. Anis placed his hands to either side of him, on the arms of the chair, and leaned his head against the back. He half closed his eyes. Layla and Saniya began to administer first aid. They fetched water and cotton to wipe the blood from Anis’ lower lip and eyebrows, and they sponged his face and neck. As for Samara, her face was screwed up in pain, and she mumbled words that no one could hear. Ahmad struck one palm against the other. “I could never have imagined it!” he said.

  “This is a catastrophe,” muttered Ali.

  “A demon has possessed us. Finished us off.”

  Saniya’s eyes filled with tears. “Who would have believed this could happen on our houseboat!” she said.

  Samara began to cry again, but without making a sound. Anis opened his eyes and stared sightlessly ahead. Ali bent over him. “How are you?” he asked, but Anis did not reply. “I will send for a doctor, if you wish,” his friend continued, at which Anis replied: “There is no need for that.”

  “Misery has ruined us all, believe me,” Ali went on. “Even Ragab himself. He would like to be reconciled with you.”

  Anis spoke, with a strange calm. “Nothing is important,” he said, “except…” He swallowed, and continued: “Except the murder.”

  It seemed that none of them had understood what he said. Anis sat up in the chair. “Are you feeling better now?” Ali asked him, and he replied with the same calm: “Nothing is of any consequence, except the murder.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that justice must be done.”

  “But Ragab is fully prepared—” Ali began, but Anis interrupted him.

  “I mean the murder of the unknown man,” he said.

  They looked at each other oddly. Ali shrugged. “The important thing is that you return to your old self again.”

  “Oh, I have, completely, thank you,” Anis rejoined. “I am talking about what needs to be done next.”

  “But, my dear friend,” protested Ali, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “But what I am saying is not remotely ambiguous. I am talking about the unknown man, the one who was killed. I am saying that justice must be done.”

  Ali, confused, smiled idiotically. “You can see we are already as wretched as we could be,” he said. “The only thing that could make it worse would be for us to be blown to bits.”

  “Justice must take its course.”

  “Speaking has tired you out, surely…”

  “We must inform the authorities of our involvement at once—”

  “You don’t mean what you are saying!”

  “On the contrary, I mean—and know—exactly what I am saying.”

  “This is incredible.”

  “You had better believe it, for it’s the certain truth.”

  “But this has got nothing to do with you at all!”

  “I am concerned by nothing else.”

  Ahmad brought Anis a glass of whiskey, which he refused with thanks. Ahmad then started to roll him a joint while the coffee was brewing, but Anis told him that he would do that himself when the time came.

  “I beg you,” Layla pleaded, “don’t increase our misery!”

  “There is no going back on it.”

  “But we had finished with all that—Samara herself had mercy on us!”

  “I’ve said enough.”

  “Everyone,” Khalid announced nervously. “We should leave. We’ve been touched by madness tonight. If we stay, something even more dreadful will happen!”

  “But I will simply go to the police myself,” said Anis. “Let that be known to you all.”

  They all stared at him, stunned. Ragab turned his face to the Nile to blow out his rage into the air. “You are not in your right mind,” said Ahmad.

  “I am, I assure you.”

  “Are you aware of the consequences of your actions?”

  “Yes; that everyone will receive their just deserts.”

  “He’s desperate!” Ragab bellowed at the top of his voice. “He’s been fired! It doesn’t matter to him if he brings the temple down on everyone in it!”

  “Be quiet!” Ali shouted. “You are primarily responsible for everything, so don’t say another word!” Then he turned to Anis. “Did you really imagine that we would abandon you in your trouble?” he said heatedly. “It’s not yet certain that you have been fired. And if it turns out that you are, we’re all behind you until you find another job.”

  “Thank you, but that’s irrelevant,” Anis replied.

  “For God’s sake, be sensible! There’s not a reason in the world to justify your position! Even Samara has gone along with us! I don’t understand you!”

  “Do you really not understand?” shouted Ragab.

  “Shut up!” Ali returned.

  “Don’t you understand that he is determined to take revenge on me!”

  “Shut up!”

  “He’s gone mad—there’s no use arguing with a madman!

  “We told you to shut up!”

  “The heavens will fall on the earth and crush it before I permit an insane dope fiend to ruin my future!”

  Samara opened her mouth to speak, but Ragab shook his fist at her angrily. “And what do you want to say, you root of all misfortune?” he shouted at her. S
he recoiled in terror, and then Ragab went mad. The bloodlust leaped from his eyes. “If there has to be an accusation of murder,” he yelled, “then let there be a real murder!” At that point, all the men hedged themselves closely around him. “Disaster!” Ahmad cried. “There’s going to be a disaster! We’ll all be destroyed!”

  Amm Abduh appeared again. “Well, praise the Lord!” he said.

  “Get out of here!” Ahmad shouted. “Take yourself off, and make sure you don’t come back!” When the old man had gone, he turned to Anis. “Anis,” he said, “you can see what has happened. In the name of our friendship, declare that you do not mean what you say.”

  “I will never retract it!” Anis persisted.

  “Well then, damn you to hell!” Ahmad shouted. He turned toward Samara, calling for her, with a look of terrified anxiety, to intervene. All eyes were upon her, clearly urging her to speak and also charging her with responsibility for what had happened.

  She was overcome by grief and anguish. She looked at Anis, and swallowed. Just as she was about to speak, he said: “There’s no going back, I swear that to you.”

  Ragab charged forward, trying to break the barrier they had formed around him, to fall upon Anis, but they stood all the firmer and grasped hold of his arms and waist. He tried with all his strength to free himself from their hands, but to no avail. And at that moment, Anis stood up and vanished behind the side door. He soon returned with a kitchen knife in his hand. He took up a position between the door and the refrigerator, crouched to defend himself to the death. The women screamed. Saniya threatened to call the police at the first hint of an attack. The knife redoubled Ragab’s struggle, and he hurled insults and calumny on Anis. He tried again and again to attack him, until Khalid shouted: “We must leave at once!”

  “I’ll kill him before he kills me!” yelled Ragab. But they pushed him toward the door in spite of his resistance. More and more violently, he tried to free himself from them, and more and more doggedly did they prevent him, until there was almost a battle going on among them. He threatened to hit them if they did not leave him, and they in their turn threatened him likewise.