The ship was sinking in the middle of the sea, he’d say, pointing to the distant horizon while people strained their eyes to see the point in the round, blue expanse. The ship sank and the nun came out of it, all by herself, everybody saw her, they saw her precious white headdress as it floated on the surface of the water. It floated as if it were a white box, and then the nun appeared. She wasn’t swimming, she was walking, I swear to God she was walking, an Italian nun walking on the water. The white headdress rose up and the nun appeared in her torn clothes, while people stood right here, and he’d point to where the candles were, the people right here, and the nun coming from there, from that distant point, as though she were walking. “I,” Abu Abbas said, “was a little boy, my father saw her, I swear on his grave, my father said she walked, and when she reached here, to the shore, people started running, one of them brought a white sheet, she wrapped herself in it and the sheet stuck to her body. She stayed here, she didn’t ask for anything. She sat right here, there was no fence here, it was all sand and cactus, she knelt by the cactus and started praying. Then she built a little hut for herself and lived among the people, she was like a ghost. People said she was educated, God only knows. She’d go up there to drink, to the spring that was there, and he’d point with his hand to no place, and no one would ask him what happened to the spring, or where it was exactly, and there she built a school, she taught the children and she memorized the Qur’an, and her name became al-Raysi, mother superior, and the name of the area changed to Ayn al-Raysi, the spring of al-Raysi, and then, through mispronunciations and time, changed to Ayn Mraysi.”
All this was written in the book. This is it, the book I inherited from my father, you can read it yourself. He’d put the book away and stand in front of the candles and smile.
And these candles, you forgot the candles, he’d say. These were from votive offerings, until now, people come and light candles for al-Raysi, who died here, and was buried here. Most of the people who come here are women, they get down on their knees and pray to al-Raysi and light candles, and she grants them what they pray for.
Abu Abbas told his story every day, and Alice never believed a word of it.
“You’re a world-class swindler,” she said to him.
“I’m a swindler, that’s what they want. They want information. Ever since this became a bar area there’s been a need for a history, they all want to know the history. What is history? Miracles and strange happenings, since the time of Saint Adam, peace be upon his soul, history is miracles and strange events.”
“But you’re lying to them.”
“If I lie, they believe me, and if I don’t lie, they don’t believe me. But I don’t lie; I say what I’ve heard, and what I’ve heard is true, because I heard it, right?”
“Of course not. Tell me, what was the nun’s name?” Alice asked.
“Al-Raysi, everyone knows that.”
“Right,” said Alice.
Abu Abbas made a living from the story of al-Raysi, and, people said, from dealing hashish. Once he told Alice he was always out to make easy money. “The only way to make easy money is with hashish.”
Alice didn’t love him. She’d go with him almost every day, she’d give him money, but she didn’t love him. Then, when he stopped coming to Shaheen’s nightclub, she didn’t feel anything at all, as if he never existed, she said. Alice didn’t remember the candles of al-Raysi, except when al-Askary was killed. That day she ran to the fence and kneeled in front of the candles, lit a candle and cried. She prayed with all her heart for al-Askary not to die and made a vow to the Italian nun. She saw him before her, dead, but she didn’t believe al-Askary could die. She lit three candles and cried, and when she went out from behind the fence she saw Abu Abbas. He pointed to her with his hand from the distance as if he didn’t recognize her. She nodded her head to him. She nodded her head and worried the precious white headdress would fall. She walked slowly, as if the white sheet were glued to her body and prevented her from moving.
Zaylaa was different, Alice said. He was nothing like al-Askary. “Al-Askary was the biggest barhopper in town, what a guy.”
When she described him, she became lost in a fog emanating from her eyes, she drowned in tears that wouldn’t fall, tears that surrounded her face like a halo of water. Alice didn’t expect to die. It was 1974, and Alice was staggering on her journey, and was almost collapsing under life’s blows. She was forty-seven, lived alone in her room in Ayn Mraysi, and worked at the Blow Up nightclub. There she found only al-Askary. The bar owner told her she was getting old and should retire, so she went to Kamal al-Askary and told him. He had a lot of influence. A young, dark man, tall, broad shoulders, eyebrows so thin they looked like they’d been drawn with a pencil, he walked giving the impression that his legs moved by themselves and his body followed. He was the king. He’d go to all the bars, drink whatever he wanted, all the girls were at his beck and call, and he never paid. The beginning of every month he collected from everyone. No one complained. He protected the poor and helped them out, and he’d say he never touched alcohol, even though he drank a lot and never got drunk.
If it hadn’t been for al-Askary, Alice would’ve found herself out on the streets. He was the one who told the bar owner that Alice should stay, and so she stayed. It’s true things were topsy-turvy then, but she kept her job. The big upheaval was during the early seventies. Everything changed. Even people’s tastes changed, as if they’d gotten tired of girls with plump bodies. Alice wasn’t fat, she had a full figure, she “filled your eyes,” as she put it. All of a sudden, everything changed. Kamal al-Askary died, and Alice was left all alone.
“That guy Zaylaa was a nobody, just a nouveau riche. The nouveaux riches are all dogs, because no one knows anything about them. I never liked him, nothing ever happened between us. Well, actually, once I was drunk and got crazy, he was crazy, too. He hit me and screamed and broke my bones. He was crazy. Then he started ramming his head against the wall and crying. The whole thing ended with crying, and I was watching. He refused to leave. He was crying so hard I thought he’d die from crying. I’ve never seen a man cry that way. Lieutenant Tannous, when he became like a woman, he got all screwed up and was ready to tear his hair out, but he didn’t cry. Abu Jamil didn’t cry when the owner of the Blow Up kicked him out and spat in his face because he was taking extra commission from the girls and selling them cocaine cut with impurities. But that guy Zaylaa, I don’t what he was. He called himself a man, people like that aren’t men, they’re garbage.”
And Kamal al-Askary died.
That day the Blow Up looked like a different place. Even now, no one knows, was al-Askary killed by Asad Awwad’s bullet, or someone else’s? Alice didn’t know, no one who was there knew. All of a sudden the shooting started. They said the two of them were arguing over a girl. Al-Askary came into the nightclub and saw Awwad sitting with Rita, the Italian girl, and Rita was al-Askary’s girl. Everyone knew Rita was al-Askary’s girl. He came in and saw Awwad sitting with her with his arm around her, having a drink with her. Al-Askary didn’t say anything. He stood up very quietly and then a shot was heard. Alice didn’t know how it happened. Perhaps al-Askary wanted to teach Awwad a lesson, the way he taught the rest. Al-Askary’s lesson was simple; he’d fire one shot at the bottle of whiskey and let the other guy know this was his territory. The other guy would back off and the problem would be solved.
Alice said all the officers in town were afraid of Kamal al-Askary; no one messed with him. Even Awwad knew how to play the game, because he was a professional. That’s why no one could understand what happened, who, what, where, how. They said al-Askary drew his gun and fired at the very moment Awwad turned to fire, and they died together. Alice didn’t believe it. She refused to believe al-Askary could die.