In the Country of Men

'How many times you imagined their eyes gleaming with pride!'

'But you were wrong about yourself

'You have always been bad. Just waiting for your true nature to rise.'

'You see how bad you are now? This is only the beginning.'

'Things only grow in this world.' "What you are now is what you'll for ever be.' 'One's nature is like a mountain, you can't change it.' 'The only difference is, unlike a mountain, one's nature grows.'

'The devil has found a home in you.'

'And when the devil finds a home it likes it never leaves.'

'Warm, comfortable, he sleeps in your belly.' "When the Day of Judgement comes, when all that's unseen will become visible, your heart will be seen for what it is: empty and cruel.'

'As empty as a rotten chestnut.'

'Your deeds will be visible then in Eternity.'

'You'll never feel the pleasure of that secret warm glow smouldering your heart, that warm glow that is goodness.'

'Do you remember it tickling your chest every time you kissed Baba's hand?'

'Or when Kareem entrusted you with his secret love for Leila?'

'You loved that, didn't you?'

'Yes. "He's twelve," you said to yourself, "and I am nine, but he has entrusted me with his secret."

'And you betrayed him.'

I felt the first sting of tears in my eyes. I hoped they would come.

'And why did you betray him? Could you say why?'

I shook my head to say no.

'You can't tell him you didn't mean it.'

I shook my head again.

'You can't say it was an accident.'

A slip of the tongue.'

'No,' I heard myself say, and heard the tremor in my voice.

'You meant to hurt him.'

'No,' I said again.

'You did.'

'You even enjoyed it, admit it.'

I nodded.

'But Kareem is your best friend.'

'Yes,' I whispered, and the tears fell.

'Oh, Kareem is certainly kind-hearted. "You can see it in his face how white his heart is," these were your words. Traitor!'

'Traitor!'

I buried my face in my hands.

***

After a while I came out and washed my face. Moosa had left. I saw Mama getting ready to take a nap, pulling the curtains shut, turning on her beside lamp. She didn't notice me. When she was about to turn around I moved out of view. An excitement rushed through me. I thought this must be how it feels to be a police officer or a thief in one of those American films.

I went to watch television in the sitting room. I sat on the floor, cross-legged, only centimetres away from the screen. A man was sitting in a chair in a room. I turned the volume up slightly. The upper half of the wall behind him was the colour of sand, the lower green. It was chipped in several places, showing white beneath the paint. The man looked thin. He faced slightly to one side. His knees were touching, he looked like a school boy in detention. He wore a white shirt under a grey jacket. His clothes seemed too big, his shirt collar almost touched his ears. His cheeks were grey with stubble. Suddenly, and with such speed it was dizzying, the camera zoomed in on his face, moved left, right, until he was in the centre of the picture, then focused. A light was shone on him. His eyes squinted against it. It was Ustath Rashid. I waited for him to speak. Another voice mumbled something. I turned the volume up a little. It seemed that Ustath Rashid, too, didn't hear what the voice had said, he tilted his head slightly to one side. A shadow of a big hairless head fell on the wall behind him. The voice repeated the question: 'Were you present at the meeting?' Ustath Rashid nodded, then said, 'Yes, I was present.' But the word 'present' was barely audible. He was asked to repeat. 'Present, present,' he said. 'Who else was there?' Ustath Rashid looked again at the man with the hairless head. 'We will read a list,' the voice said calmly, 'and you will answer yes or no.' I heard the sound of shuffling paper before the voice spoke a name.

Ustath Rashid hesitated, looked at the shadow, the shadow came closer, his head becoming bigger on the wall. Tears gathered in Ustath Rashid's eyes, he looked thirsty, his Adam's apple rose and fell, then he nodded. More names were read out, and Ustath Rashid continued nodding, sometimes before a name was even fully read. Then I heard Baba's name: 'Faraj el-Dewani?' It was strange to hear Baba's name on television. Ustath Rashid hesitated a little. He looked to one side, his stubble made a strange noise against his shirt collar. The voice reread the name, this time inserting 'Bu Suleiman' into Baba's name, which again, like when I had read it in the book Ustath Rashid had gifted Baba with his 'undying loyalty', made me feel implicated, dragged by my name into something I knew nothing about. Then Ustath Rashid spoke. He said, 'No.'

I ran to Mama, but found her asleep. I knelt beside her bed. 'Wake up, Baba's name is on television,' I whispered. Her cheek was resting on her hand, her lips distorted, her breath came and went in deep swings. She was over-perfumed. I felt the urge to slap the air beside her.

I returned to the television. The screen was covered now in a still photograph of pink flowers. This was the picture that meant the broadcast was temporarily interrupted. I heard it said that the Guide had a switch in his sitting room, beside his television set, so that whenever he saw something he didn't like he flicked the flowers on. I sat and watched the flowers, hoping Ustath Rashid would come back on. I wondered if Kareem was watching. I had seen such interrogations before broadcast on television. They are meant to show the nation the 'faces of the traitors'. Ustath Rashid said, 'No,' when Baba's name was mentioned. I knew that this was the opposite of betrayal.

I ran back to Mama. I put my nose beside her distorted lips and was certain that she had had some medicine before sleeping, maybe after I saw her draw the curtains and turn on the beside lamp, maybe before, maybe while Moosa was still here. Maybe he, too, was made to swear on her life not to tell a living soul? I felt anger blister my cheeks. Her medicine bottle was beside her. It was as big as a water bottle and had nothing written on it, the liquid inside it the colour of water. She had left it standing open on her bedside table. Without thinking I took it to the kitchen and began pouring it down the sink. I stopped to imagine what she would do when she found out. She could always go to Majdi the baker and buy another, I thought. I emptied it all.

At this point the doorbell rang. Whoever it was kept their finger on the bell. The continuous ringing didn't wake Mama; she didn't come running towards the door, anxious, saying, 'Coming, coming.' By the time I was halfway down the hallway I heard myself shout, 'Take your finger off the bell.' I was surprised by how quickly my order was obeyed. I looked through the peephole. It was Bahloul the beggar. His head, his long and knotted hair and beard, straining to hear. When I opened the door he hesitated, looked like he was almost going to leave.

'You haven't given me any money lately,' he said.

'Not now, Bahloul. Mama's asleep and Baba's on a business trip. Go away.'

'You are rude. You plant nothing for the hereafter. A kind word is a seed you'll find as a tree in the hereafter.'

I couldn't think of anything to say. A strange exhaustion came over me.

'Feed me,' he said.

I let him in. Bahloul had never been in our house before. When he was out of the sun, in our hallway, I smelled him and saw how dirty his jallabia was and how black his bare feet looked against the carpet. His toenails were like bird beaks or things made of wood. 'No,' I said and pushed him out. I was surprised by how easy it was to get rid of him, how willing he was to obey me. It made me feel guilty. So I said, pretending that it was my plan all along, 'Go around the house. I'll let you in through the kitchen.' When he didn't react, I added, 'It's better this way,' and closed the door in his face.

If one family refused to give Bahloul money he talked about them, said they were 'mean, greedy, short-sighted, they think Heaven is near,' and things like that. He told everyone that he was saving to buy a small fishing boat, but after he got the boat he continued to beg. Um Masoud said, 'Of course, it's easier to beg than work. The boat was an excuse, now he's got it – paid for out of our money – he'll find another reason to beg, the lazy cockroach.'