EIGHT
Nefisa disappeared into the kitchen. Nobody knew where Hassan was. Their mother had gone to the Ministry of Education to find a solution to her problems. Thus Hussein and Hassanein were left to themselves for the first time since their father’s death. Hussein squatted cross-legged on the bed while his brother sat at his desk in a corner of the room twirling a pen between his fingers.
“Life no longer seems to be bearable!” he complained.
He expected an answer from Hussein, but the latter ignored his remark. Indignantly, Hassanein raised his eyes to him. As the youngest, it was not surprising that Hassanein should expect the others to solve his problems. He was annoyed with his brother’s silence.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“About what?” Hussein replied, pretending to miss the point.
“About what she said, of course! Do you think that our situation is really that bad?”
Hussein shrugged his shoulders. “Why should she lie?” he answered.
His brother’s eyes glistened with a gleam of hope. “To restrain us, of course!” he replied. “To frighten us and make us be careful! No wonder, for she has a harsh disposition. Had it not been for our father, we’d never have known any joy!”
“I wish we never had known it,” said Hussein sadly.
“What?” exclaimed Hassanein.
“If we’d never been pampered before, this new life to which we are doomed would be much easier for us!”
Overcome by fright, Hassanein answered, “Then you believe what she said? Is it true that our father has left us nothing? Wouldn’t the pension be enough to cover our expenses?”
“I believe everything she said. It’s the truth,” sighed Hussein.
“How are we to endure such a life?” Hassanein wondered anxiously. A sad smile hovered over Hussein’s lips. He shared his brother’s sorrow and anxiety but found it wiser to oppose him.
“We shall bear it as lots of others do,” he declared. “Do you think that everybody lives in prosperity, with a generous father to provide for him? Yet all human beings survive and don’t commit suicide!”
Hassanein became exasperated. He stared at his brother and exclaimed, “Your sangfroid is amazing!”
“If I agreed with you, you would renounce hope and burst out crying,” Hussein replied with a smile.
“Whoever yields to fate encourages it to impose further tyranny!”
The other boy smiled sarcastically. “Let’s revolt against fate,” he said teasingly, “and shout, ‘Down with Fate,’ just as we shouted, ‘Down with Hor.’ Didn’t ‘Down with Hor’ do us some good? But the other shout would not do us any good whatsoever.”
Distressed, Hassanein frowned and wondered, “Who can we appeal to now?”
Hassanein’s broad smile flattened his nose and it appeared at that moment as coarse as his mother’s.
“Only to God,” he answered curtly.
This answer added fuel to his anger. He did not doubt it, but he did not consider it enough. It is true that God is the resort of all people. Yet how numerous on earth are the hungry and distressed! He had never renounced his creed, but in his dread he was eagerly searching for a tangible means of security. He imagined that his brother was putting him off in the hope that he would leave him alone. But this only made him more obstinate.
“God has taken our father from us,” he said, “and left us without support.”
“He is our support,” said Hussein, as if he were deliberately trying to provoke his brother.
Hassanein burst out, “I’m not taken in by your pretended calmness. Do you really feel secure?”
Hussein listened to him with resentment and pain. Then, perhaps to hide his feelings, he said, “The believer would never feel anything but serenity.”
“I believe, but I am still worried!”
“Then your faith is weak,” said Hussein, not really believing his own words.
“Oh, let it be so!” Hassanein exclaimed indignantly. “I know some students who don’t hesitate to proclaim their doubts.”
“I know.”
“They are intelligent and well read.”
“Would you like to do the same?”
“No, I am not so much interested in reading,” he answered in fright. “You read too much yourself!”
“That’s right,” said Hussein with a smile, “yet I have never driven God out of my heart. To tell you the truth, we overdo it when we hold God responsible for our many calamities. Don’t you see, if God is responsible for our father’s death, he is not responsible for the small pension he left us.”
Hassanein felt that the conversation had drifted away from his true worries. He said, disturbed, “Tell me how we are going to live without our pocket money. Without movies or football. I was about to take up boxing!”
“Avoid whatever may cause our mother pain,” Hussein said with a frown. “If we cannot help her, let’s at least spare her unnecessary troubles. Remember, she is all alone. We have no uncles on either side of the family.”
“No uncles on either side! Indeed! However, this would have been much less humiliating if our sister had not become a dressmaker. Oh, my God! What will people say about us!”
Hussein became depressed. The word “dressmaker” was very painful to him, and he said angrily, “We can go on living without caring for what people say.” Then, to cut the conversation short, he stood up and left the room.
NINE
They were embarrassed as they entered the school yard for the first time after their father’s death. They could never resume their old life and everything would be changed. Nothing could be hidden from the rest of the students. That was so obviously painful to both of them. Only a few friends knew what had happened but soon the news spread around and their friends came to express their condolences. One of the students warned them: “Your family should choose the right guardian for you, for I never realized what a catastrophe my father’s death was until my uncle’s guardianship was inflicted upon me!”
A guardian! Hussein pretended to be listening to some pupils talking about the last demonstrations and the endeavors to present a united front, but he heard Hassanein’s answer to his friend: “We are quite sure of our guardian.”
“How lucky you are,” said his friend. “But it all depends on the sort of inheritance you got. In the case of land, it will be easy to cheat you. But if it is buildings, it wouldn’t be that easy for the guardian. That’s what my mother says.”
“Fortunately, our inheritance consists only of buildings,” Hassanein calmly replied.
Hussein listened, infuriated. He was not only vexed by these lies, but also feared their consequences. How could we face our new situation if the boys thought that we were wealthy? he wondered. What are we going to do, and what are we going to say? He is lying irresponsibly. Damn him! He gave a warning look to his brother, but, annoyed, the boy avoided his eyes. One of the pupils asked how their father had died. Hassanein replied, deeply moved, “We are told that he died suddenly. Amazingly enough, on the day of his death, in the morning when he saw me going out to school, just one hour before his death, he patted my shoulder tenderly and said, for no obvious reason, ‘Goodbye. Goodbye.’ How could I have known that he was bidding me farewell?” Nothing of that sort had really taken place and he did not know why he said it. It was still more curious that his words rang with true emotion, as though all of this had actually happened. What he said was impromptu, motivated by a mysterious urge to venerate his father. So surprised was Hussein by his brother’s description and show of emotion that he almost smiled. Averting his face, he saw the captain of the football team standing some distance away. He wanted to give vent to his pent-up feelings. He walked up to the captain and greeted him.