10
On the first day of the fast Ahmad Akif felt really tired; he found it difficult not to drink his cup of coffee and have a cigarette whenever he felt like it. As he made his way to work, his head was throbbing and he kept yawning. He was feeling so completely exhausted that his eyes started tearing from all the yawning and his eyelids were drooping. At that point he remembered that Ahmad Rashid and his like would not be suffering the way he was, and the contempt and superiority that he felt gave him a small dose of pleasure.
When he returned home at noontime, he was totally wiped out. He threw himself on his bed and immediately fell fast asleep. An hour before the end of the fasting period he woke up again; heading for the bathroom he splashed some water on his face. On his way back to his room he noticed his father sitting cross-legged on his prayer rug reading the Qur’an and walked by in silence. He poked his head into the kitchen and saw his mother working there with her sleeves rolled up. The very thought of the kitchen led him to pause by the door for a moment. Looking round, he could sniff a big tray full of salad ingredients — parsley, watercress, carrots, onions, and tomatoes, and bright green and red peppers; all of which made him unconsciously lick his lips in anticipation. When he turned his attention to the tureen full of beans, he could not stand it any longer.
Abandoning his spot by the doorway he walked past the table in the big room and noticed that it was already laid: bread in one corner, cups of water placed in front of each chair, and a plateful of radishes in the center. He hurried back to his own room and shut the door. The last hour before people broke their fast was known to be by far the toughest to live through, so he had made it a hard and fast rule to divert himself during that period by doing some concentrated reading. When he had finished the task, he took a look at the clock and saw that he still had another half-hour to wait. That brought a frown to his brow, but he decided that the best thing to do as a way of killing time was to open the window and look outside.
There was Boss Nunu closing his store. His children, who were standing there waiting for him, almost blocked the entire street. Once he had finished, he went on his way, surrounded by young bodies, with the young ones grabbing on to his legs and the whole assemblage causing enough din to make a radio station envious. Apart from a few yogurt sellers, the street was now virtually empty. Ahmad watched as the last rays of the sun gradually faded from the walls on the buildings opposite his window behind the large square of stores. Open windows served to advertise tables heavily loaded with food inside. Pitchers had been put outside on balconies to cool, and plates of fruit compote garlanded with egg had been laid out. The evening breezes carried with them the smell of food being fried and the crackle of roasts. Ahmad allowed himself to wander off into a reverie inspired by the magic realm of food.
He left the window, went over to the other one that looked out on the old part of Khan al-Khalili, opened it, and leaned on the sill. That part of the quarter seemed quiet and still; the domes of the al-Mu’izz period loomed in the sky, almost as though doing obeisance to the setting sun. Immediately opposite this window was the left-hand side of the apartment building with its closed windows. Just at that moment he heard a slight movement from above. Looking up he could see his neighbor’s balcony, opposite his window but higher up. A young girl was sitting there embroidering a shawl, the end of which twirled into her lap. She was sitting there on a chair, legs crossed. He recognized her at once — almost before he looked up — and his heart jumped. He hadn’t realized that Kamal Khalil’s apartment was on the side of the building facing his room or that his daughter was this close. He was overjoyed. The girl looked up, gave him a quick glance, and then went rapidly back to her needles. He looked at those honey-colored eyes for a third time. At that fleeting moment when their eyes met, his emotions overcame him and he blushed deep red in sheer embarrassment. He did not know how to behave or what was the best way to get out of this predicament. He lowered his balding head, dearly wanting to move away from the window while he caught his breath. He wondered whether she was looking at him again. Could she see his bald patch? He could actually feel the part of his head where her gaze would be falling getting hot, just as leaves will burn up under the concentrated rays of the sun.
He had no idea how much time went by, but he came to himself when he heard the scraping sound of her chair. Looking up again, he saw her get up and go back inside. As she did so, he thought he caught the tiniest glimpse of a smile. As he made his way over to the other window, he wondered what exactly that smile might imply. Why had she smiled? Was it to scoff at his baldness? Was she laughing because he had looked so confused and bashful? Or perhaps she was pleased to have the amorous attentions of a man who was her father’s age. Good heavens, that was right — her father’s age! Needless to say, if he’d married at the appropriate point in his life, he might have had a daughter who by now would be of her age. Then it would have been impossible for a fleeting glance to embarrass him and send him into such a dither. But fate had decreed that he would lose his mind over this particular girl. The most innocent of glances had managed to make him feel both hungry and bashful.
He allowed himself a sheepish smile of despair, one that revealed his yellowing teeth. Just then, the cannon went off, and all the children started shouting. He was amazed that the last half-hour had passed without him even thinking about how hungry and thirsty he was. The muezzin chanted, “God is great, God is great,” in a beautiful voice, to which Ahmad audibly responded, “There is no god but God!” Moving away from the window, he headed for the main room. All three of them gathered around the table. To quench their thirst they all downed some apricot juice, then the mother brought in a plateful of beans. They all devoured it with relish and left the plate completely clean.
“It would have been a good idea, I think,” said the father as he sipped some water, “if we’d kept the beans back for a while until we’d eaten some of the other dishes. We’ll fill ourselves up on beans alone!”
“You say that every year,” the mother replied, “but you never remember until the beans have been eaten!”
In fact there was still plenty of room inside their stomachs. Lima beans were brought in, followed by stuffed peppers and roasted meat. Hands, eyes, and teeth all cooperated in silent resolution. It was not just the food that Ahmad was enjoying so much. His small balding head was teeming with happy thoughts, triggered, no doubt, by his enjoyment of the food. That lovely girl was his neighbor; her apartment overlooked his own. They would inevitably encounter each other; their gazes might well meet again, sentiments would certainly fly, and emotions were sure to be roused. Who knows what might happen after that? He planned to toss his heart into a bottomless ocean topped by hope and with disillusion as its seabed; hope in one direction, despair in the other. The darkness on the horizon worried him, but at the same time a safe haven on the far shore gave him some reassurance. How could he possibly know where security lay and when the final goal would be reached? It was surely enough that happiness had managed to waken a moribund heart; the very process brought its own particular delights, even though they might well cost a man his own blood and peace of mind. How could he possibly deny the fact that his heart was frozen stiff from the cold? It had long since tired of sleep and peace of mind. But now, here it was, alert and awake again; the scene on the balcony suggested that it would continue that way. Who knows what the outcome might be? For the time being he was so happy that he didn’t care what the morrow might bring. Let the horizon have its sunrise or its sunset! Fate might either smile or frown on him. For him it was enough that his heart was alert. For days now he had been quivering with nervous energy, happily unsettled, joyfully perplexed, hopefully confused, fearfully hoping, and joyously scared. Yes indeed, this was life, and life was better than death, even though the living might endure hardships and the dead find peace.