God Dies by the Nile and Other Novels (13 page)

Zeinab looked around but she could see nothing, so she would say to her aunt, ‘The window has no iron bars.'

Zakeya would point her trembling fingers to the huge iron door and say, ‘It's a window.'

Zeinab's eyes followed her fingers as they pointed to the huge iron gate of the Mayor's house and patted her shoulder. ‘It's the door of the Mayor's house. Do not be afraid. Try to get some sleep. I will take the buffalo to the field and come back before sunset.'

Zakeya would catch hold of Zeinab's
galabeya
. ‘No, Zeinab, don't leave me alone.'

‘But who will go to the field? And who will feed us if I stay here by your side?'

Zakeya answered, ‘Galal has taken the buffalo and gone to the field. You stay here with me. Don't leave me alone.'

Zeinab would dry her tears quickly, and say, ‘Galal has not gone to the field. I must go to harvest the crop so that we can pay what we owe to the government, otherwise they will take the land away from us, and we will have to beg at people's doors.'

At that moment the voice of a man rang out reaching them across the threshold of their house. ‘It's not thinkable that we would let Zakeya and Zeinab be obliged to beg at people's doors. As long as we are here alive in Kafr El Teen this will never happen.'

Zeinab turned round to
find
Haj Ismail standing in the doorway in front of her. One eye was looking at her, while his other eye wandered in another direction.

She said, ‘Haj Ismail, I have to go to our
field
and, as you can see, my Aunt Zakeya is sick. She no longer eats, nor drinks, nor does she even sleep. All the time she sees things and hears voices, and it makes her very frightened.'

‘Zakeya is possessed by a devil,' said Haj Ismail, ‘and it will not leave her unless she listens to my advice, and does what I tell her to do.'

‘I am prepared to do anything that will make my Aunt Zakeya get well again, Haj Ismail.'

He opened his old bag and extracted a long piece of paper covered with verses of the Koran. He chanted a few obscure incantations, folded the piece of paper and put it in a small dirty pouch of rough white cotton. Then he hung it around Zakeya's neck, chanting other verses and incantations. After that he muttered a few words and started to invoke the name of God and exalt His unlimited power, all the while stroking her head, her face and her chest first with the palms of his hands and then with their backs.

After finishing he wiped his face in his hands and said to Zeinab, who was now sitting close to her aunt, ‘This amulet has great powers. It costs only five piastres. And now, Zeinab, listen carefully to me and do exactly what I tell you. Next Thursday, together with your aunt, you are to take the bus to
Bab El Hadeed in Cairo. From Bab El Hadeed you will take the tram to Sayeda Zeinab.
^*
There you will find people celebrating her birth anniversary, groups of people chanting hymns to her memory, and many holy people. Both of you offer a prayer to her soul and join in the chanting. Repeat the names of Allah many times with those who are chanting. and spend your night in the mosque in the bosom of our holy lady. On Friday morning raise your hands to the heavens and say, “O God, O God, listen to me. My Aunt Zakeya asks forgiveness for all her sins and will never do anything to displease You. Have mercy on her, You the all merciful.” Allah will lend an ear to your exhortations and a holy man will approach your Aunt Zakeya and take this amulet off her neck, then hang it on her again. While he is doing this he will enjoin her to fulfil certain things. After he has finished she is to give him a ten piastre silver coin. Then both of you should return immediately, and do what he has told you without delay. Remember his words exactly, for what he says to you will be the orders of Allah. If you do not obey, the wrath of Allah will pursue your Aunt Zakeya. and the devil will never leave her body.'

Zeinab looked at him and said in a voice which expressed deep feeling, ‘May Allah give you long life, Haj Ismail. I am prepared to take my Aunt to Sayeda Zeinab, and to do anything Allah tells me to do.'

On the eve of Thursday Om Saber came to their house at night, and bathed Zakeya's body with pure water from the river Nile. Zeinab tied the corner of her shawl around the few coins some of the neighbours had collected for them to pay for the bus and tram fares, as well as the five piastres for the amulet and a silver coin of ten piastres which was the price she was supposed to pay in order to know what Allah wanted her to do. Zakeya muttered a few words as though talking to herself, ‘Even God wants us to pay Him something. Yet He knows we own nothing, my child.'

And Zeinab answered, ‘Do not worry about anything, the good which Allah bestows upon people is without end, and kind people are to be found everywhere. What matters is that Allah should forgive you, and drive the evil spirit out of you.'

_________

^*
A common gesture amongst poor women which is supposed to chase devils away.

^*
A mosque built in memory of the Prophet Mohamed's daughter Zeinab.
Sayeda
is a term of respect used for women.

XII

Before the crimson rays of dawn had appeared in the east, before the cock had crowed, or the voice of Sheikh Hamzawi called to prayer, the big wooden door opened creaking with the rusty sound of an ancient water-wheel. Two shadows slipped out, their heads and shoulders draped in long black shawls. Zeinab's face was drawn and pale under the first rays of dawn. She looked up at the sky with an expression of angry defiance. Moving alongside her could be seen the thin, emaciated, lined face of Zakeya, her big black eyes gleaming in the half-light.

Darkness lifted slightly and the light of dawn glimmered over the surface of the river revealing the tiny exhausted waves like wrinkles on an old, sad silent face that has resigned itself to its fate. Fitful gusts of wind blew the dust off the top of the river bank to the slope below, then further down to the lowland where the huts huddled close together, their roofs stacked with piles of dry cotton sticks, dung cakes and straw, their windows tiny holes like eyes that do not see, their doors of roughened wood, their walls made of mud and clay.

But the big house of the Mayor was quite different. Its walls were high and built of red brick, its door rose up menacingly
black, with iron bars reaching up to the top, its windows were made of glass and wooden frames, its roof climbed higher than the minaret and no cotton sticks, or straw, or cakes of dung were to be seen on it, for it was made of concrete and always kept spotlessly clean.

They walked with their eyes fixed on the long road which lay ahead, leaving behind them, on the dust of the bank, the imprints of four big feet, each with five toes slightly splayed. Zeinab's imprints were a little smaller and much clearer for in her legs was a greater strength. They struck against her garment with a regular flap. Her eyes gazed along the parallel stretches of water and green crops which reached out as far as the distant horizon. To her they seemed endless, and she wondered where Sayeda Zeinab could be, and where she would find the bus which would carry them to Bab El Hadeed. Zakeya had started to lose her breath. She put her arm around her niece's shoulders, and went silently on without a word of complaint.

At the place where the river curved they came upon a big mulberry tree. There they found an old man and a young woman sitting in its shade. On the ground by their side was a small basket. Zeinab stopped and asked them about the bus. The old man said, ‘Yes, my child, wait here with us. We are also going to El Sayeda.'

They sat down on the dusty ground near them, the old man's eyes kept running between them, then he asked, ‘My child, is your mother ill?'

Zeinab answered, ‘She's my aunt. My mother died many years ago, uncle.'

‘May Allah have mercy on her. All of us will die, it's our destiny. But to be sick is another thing. May Allah spare you the misery of being sick.'

Zeinab looked at the young woman sitting by his side. She noticed that her eyes were fixed on something far away, as though she was not interested in what they were saying. She asked the old man, ‘Is she your daughter, uncle?'

‘No, she's my wife,' he answered. ‘She was in good health, but I don't know what happened to her. Almost overnight she started to refuse all food and drink, stayed awake all night, unable to sleep, and got into the habit of talking to herself. She sees things, and screams out in the middle of the night. I took her to one Sheikh after another. They gave her amulets to wear, and we arranged a
zar
for her. I spent all the money I have but nothing worked. So Sheikh Abbas advised me to take her on a pilgrimage to the Hejaz so that she could visit the house of Allah. Allah would forgive her for her sins, and drive away the evil spirit which had entered her body. But I explained to Sheikh Abbas that I was a poor man and had spent all my money on the Sheikhs. I did not have the means to pay for this journey. So he told me to take her to El Sayeda. I would exhort El Sayeda Zeinab to intervene with God on her behalf, and ask Him to forgive her sins. He advised me to take a basket of figs and offer it to El Sayeda. I swear by Allah,
my child, that in order to collect the money for this journey I went from house to house begging. Then I bought this basket of figs. And here I am on my way to El Sayeda in the hope that Allah will cure her of her sickness.'

‘God is great, my uncle,' said Zeinab. ‘He will not abandon her.'

The old man glanced at Zakeya. She was sitting silently with her large black eyes fixed on the horizon as though she was not following what they were saying, or could not hear them. The old man asked, ‘Are you taking her to El Sayeda?'

‘Yes, uncle,' Zeinab replied.

‘Doesn't she have a man to travel with? Don't you have anybody to look after you, my child?'

‘We have no one but Allah, and a buffalo which we left behind with our neighbour, Om Soliman. She will feed it in return for the work it will do in her field.'

‘God be with you both, my child. May God come to your help, and to the help of all those who need Him.'

Zeinab raised her hands to heaven and said, ‘We call upon Thee to stand by our side, O God.'

The disc of the sun climbed higher in the sky. The earth got hotter and hotter, and the air was still. Zeinab rested her head against a tree trunk and closed her eyes to get some sleep, but she woke up suddenly to the noise of the bus. It came to a sudden stop nearby, raising a thick haze of dust. It was leaning heavily on one side as though the slightest touch could make
it turn over. Its back was charred and exuded dense clouds of black smoke which mingled with the dust. Zakeya rested her arm on Zeinab as she climbed the steps, and the old man helped his young companion to clamber in. They managed to push their way through, to become a part of the compact mass of bodies and baskets which filled the interior of the bus. They felt themselves enveloped by the hot, stuffy air which seemed to close around them with its load of dust and smoke. Zakeya and the young woman squatted down on the floor amidst the other passengers, near the driver's seat. But the old man and Zeinab remained standing like most of the others. The bus leapt forwards suddenly and Zeinab fell with all the weight of her body on the old man standing behind her, making him lose his balance and land in turn on the passengers standing in the aisle. In less than the wink of an eye those who were upright had fallen on those who were sitting down converting the inside of the bus into layers of compressed air and compact flesh. A moment later the bus started to advance at a slow pace along the summit of the river bank. Those who had fallen down now had a chance to extricate themselves, and stand up, and things returned to normal once more. Zeinab and the old man stood close to one another in the aisle.

The bus continued to reel along carrying its heavy load. The broken windows rattled, and now and again a piece of glass fell off the doors and the chairs seemed to be half-way out of their sockets, and parts were already so loose that they
shook with a continuous metallic noise. Since the bus was advancing over a surface which was full of holes and bumps the din was deafening, and it seemed that at any moment it would come apart at its joints. Water kept streaming out between the wheels like urine from an old man who no longer is able to control his bladder and lets it drip down between his tottering legs. The bus was very much like a drunken old sailor swaying and reeling all the way. Puffs of black smoke kept exuding out of it from behind, and at every turn on the river bank it leaned heavily on one side, as though at any moment it might fall into the waters of the Nile. But each time the driver would jump to his feet, haul on the steering wheel with all his might, and save the bus from an imminent catastrophe just in time, only to find it flinging itself to the other side with the obvious intent of descending the slope and landing in the ditch, which at least was completely dry. But the driver, who seemed well-versed in its antics, would repeat the same manoeuvre until the four wheels of the bus touched down on top of the river bank at one time. Then reassured he sat down again, his half-closed eyes on the road, as though there was nothing he longed for more than a chance to shut his lids completely and drop off into a sound sleep while he was driving. His sallow, wizened face stood out with its worn look against the background of turbaned heads, long garments, limbs, and straw or wicker baskets.

Zakeya closed her eyes as she sat on the floor of the bus, overwhelmed by the sight of all these faces, and bodies
pressed up so closely against each other. She had never ridden in a bus before, nor seen so many bodies packed into so small a space, nor felt her body shake as violently as it was shaking now. Every now and then a particularly violent leap of the bus would make her open her eyes in fright. She felt that the ground was going to turn upside down and come down on the roof of the bus, or that the bus was going to do a somersault and land with its roof on the road. She kept spitting into the neck of her
galabeya
and muttering the testimony as though for the last time before she died. ‘Verily I do witness that there is no Allah except Allah, and that Mohamed is the prophet of Allah.' Many other voices in the bus would echo in her ears, almost gasping in one breath as they repeated the same words over and over again.