“I replied absentmindedly, ‘I am fine, thanks be to God.’
“He went on, ‘The engagement will be made public in three months, after Ramadan.’
“I decided to try my newfound strength without delay, and said, ‘Sorry, Grandfather, but I have chosen another wife.’
“‘Really?’ he said, without betraying any reaction.
“‘It is God’s will, anyhow,’ I explained.
“‘What I heard then is true?’ he said.
“When I did not reply, he added, ‘A shepherdess?’
“I said simply, ‘Yes, Grandfather.’
“His only comment was: ‘You have reached the age of reason and you know where your interest lies.’
“I asked if he would bless my choice, but he went on praising God on his rosary. I asked if this meant I had to leave the house. Without turning to me, he said, ‘Forever.’
“I immediately kissed his hand and left.
“Saying good-bye to Bahga was tearful and painful. She suggested asking my grandfather for money, but I told her that I had saved more than a hundred pounds. She cried, saying, ‘Sorrows in this house begin with marriage.’ She then whispered in my ear, ‘Believe me, your grandfather is a very unfortunate man. He rarely sleeps more than one hour at night.’
“I told her sincerely, ‘I love him and I reject him.’
“I then left the house where I had lived for fourteen chaste years.
“I moved into a new two-bedroom apartment located in al-Khurunfish with my bride. Muhammad Shakroun helped me rent it and furnish it. Marwana was stunning in her wedding dress. I saw her true skin color for the first time, after the intensive cleaning she had undergone in the special bridal bath. I can’t say that I was thrilled with the change, as I had gotten used to her metallic skin color, which was such an integral part of the image that had turned my life upside down. Nevertheless, I was strongly attracted to her, and totally enthralled by her. I felt I was a prisoner, at the mercy of a brutal power that knew no pity or clemency. She was instinctively seductive, like a tongue of fire. She was proud and she exalted her people, enrobing them with holiness, enriching the modest environment where she grew up like a wildflower. Even her feminine shyness was like a transparent veil, and not at all a sign of innate weakness or natural indolence. I immediately became aware that I was in the company of a strong, ageless woman, a source of fascination, charm, and defiance. I surrendered to her, clearly revealing my own weakness. I acted like a hunted man, or a crazy man who had thrown his senses and his caution to the wind. My new companions nicknamed me ‘the happy man’ and ‘the weak happy man.’ I was overwhelmed with warnings and advice.
“I did not forget my new work during my honeymoon, and I approached it with great energy and some apprehension. I was moving into new surroundings and mixing with people whose serious activities in life were fun and games. They would greet me, saying, ‘Welcome to al-Rawi’s grandson.’
“That greeting followed me like my shadow everywhere I went. I heard it in al-Khurunfish, in Muhammad Shakroun’s band, and among the members of the choir that had agreed to work with me when needed. I applied myself to studying and training, quickly getting ready for the music band and the choir. Even during my honeymoon, I performed with the band to celebrate a wedding in al-Darb al-Ahmar, and I had to wear a suit and a fez for the first time in my life. When Muhammad Shakroun saw me, he said admiringly, ‘May God be praised for his creation.’
“I was nervous as I walked into the midst of the guests and onlookers. I was one of only two members of the band who relied solely on his voice, without a musical instrument in my hand. Muhammad Shakroun offered me a glass of wine. ‘A must,’ he explained, ‘if you do not want your voice to fail.’
“I became acquainted with wine and narcotics in the same week, and I sang forcefully and accurately, as I was the second-best voice in the choir. I infused new life into the band, and boosted its enthusiasm as I sang, ‘I miss you so much, you’re my life.’
“Our singing was well received. A drunk guest made an allusion to my condition and shouted, ‘A scholar can produce a dissolute man,’ provoking loud laughter among the guests. Muhammad Shakroun turned to me and whispered, ‘Laugh with them.’
“Afterward, I thought about the man’s words, and realized that people believed I was a good sheikh who’d gone astray, becoming a singer in a band, drinking wine and taking drugs. This was not the case. All I did was change my profession; instead of teaching and preaching, I sang. As for my soul, it rose a few degrees higher. My heart was not corrupt and my faith was not shaken. My grandfather himself had said that even a garbage collector could be a divine creature.
“I might have been transported at that time by the raging flood of my feelings, because I was not aware of the significance of my experience then as I was later, or as I am today. Despite that, I was upset by the drunk’s comment, and saw in it an unfair and boisterous joke. In any case, I began my new work with confidence and success, but I waited a long time before I began chanting tawashih in praise of the Prophet at the head of a respectable group. My happiness in my marriage was the most important thing in my life, and had priority over success in my work. I was proud of my marriage, praised it, and shared the secrets of a happily married life and its benefits with others. I became an example to emulate.
“At the height of my happiness, I failed to look at my family critically, or even with a neutral probing eye. I welcomed the first signs of motherhood with a feeling close to religious ecstasy. There are, in all honesty, moments of betrayal even during a time of pure happiness; moments when you detach yourself from the flow of your life, when you stand on a hill overlooking a beach and observe it in total ecstasy. During those moments I felt as if someone had fooled me and I wondered what had happened. I would look at Marwana baffled, desiring strongly to take revenge on her. I couldn’t explain that feeling. It was as if I hated her suddenly, for no reason. It generally lasted but a fleeting moment, like the sudden contraction of a muscle, after which life regained its happy course, surrounded by fiery passion.
“I was surprised by my ability to live in a messy house. I did not complain about Marwana’s inability to cook or keep a tidy, clean house; how she went about the house half-naked and disheveled, defiant and ready to quarrel with the wind. She would frequently take my hand and drag me to visit her mother and her aging relative, living in the devils’ camp.
“The senile old man would either laugh at me, saying, ‘Wouldn’t it have been better for you to be an imam in a mosque?’ Or he would bless my wife’s belly, telling the unborn child, ‘Honor us by becoming a killer. We are fed up with thieves and smugglers.’ He made fun of my noble origins on occasion, saying, ‘Your grandfather is not al-Rawi. I am your true grandfather. I donated this beautiful woman to you, the woman who sucks up your devilish instincts.’
“‘My grandfather is a man of God,’ I would say in defense, but he would laugh at me, saying, ‘We are the true men of God, the vengeful, powerful God, creator of hell and earthquakes. Look at these wastrels. They are the men of God, an image of God in His might and vengefulness.’
“One day I met my mother’s neighbor in Bayn al-Surayn. She did not recognize me, but I introduced myself to her. She was surprised and wished me well. I remembered then that I did not know my mother’s name, and neither did Bahga. I used to call my mother ‘Amma,’ and that was the name she answered to until the day she died. I asked the neighbor if she knew her name. ‘May her soul rest in peace, she was called Sakina,’ she said. I was tempted to ask more questions about my mother’s origin and her life, but I repressed my desire, out of respect for her memory. I shook hands with the neighbor and went on my way. Thus I learned my mother’s name by pure accident.