Children of Gebelaawi (35 page)

Children of Gebelaawi

By now Ad ham had nothing but the desert, and the bard was

singing one ofldrees's drunken songs. Rifaa leaned across and

whispered in his father's ear:

- I want to visit the other cafes.

Shaafiy was amazed.

- But ours is the best in the Alley.

- What do the bards there say?

- The same stories; but there they sound quite different.

Blubberlips overheard them and leaned towards Rifaa,

saying:

- There are no worse liars than the people of this Alley, and

the bards are the worst of all. You will hear in the next cafe that

Gebel said he was a son of the Alley. My God! He only said that

he was a son of Hamdaan 's people.

Shaafiy said:

- A bard wants to please the audience at any price.

Blubberlips whispered:

- Or rather, he wants to please the strongman.

Father and son left the cafe in the middle of the night. The

darkness was so thick they could almost feel it. Men's voices

came out of the nothingness, and a cigarette glowed in an

i nvisible hand like a shooting star. Shaafiy asked:

- Did you like the story?

- Yes! What wonderful stories!

His father laughed and said:

- Jawaad likes you; what did he say to you when he was

taking a break?

- He invited me to visit him at home.

- How quickly you make friends. But you learn slowly.

- I have a whole lifetime for carpentry, but just now I'm

anxious to visit all the cafes.

They felt their way back to the passage. From Jasmine's

lodgings they heard a drunken noise and a voice singing:

Who made your lacy cap, my pet?

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Rifaa

My heart is laced into your net.

Rifaa whispered to his father:

- She's not alone as I thought.

His father sighed and said:

- What a lot of life you've missed, wandering around on

your own.

They began climbing the stairs slowly and carefully and

Rifaa said:

- Father, I'm going to visitjawaad the bard.

4 7 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rifaa knocked on Jawaad's door in the third tenementhouse i n Gebel's sector. From the courtyard came the violent abuse of some women who had gathered to do their washing

and cooking. He looked down over the balustrade of the

balcony that ran round the courtyard. The cause of the trouble

was a quarrel between two women, one of whom stood behind

a washtub waving her soapy arms, while the other was planted

at the entrance of the passage with rolled up sleeves, answering

back in sti ll worse language and wriggling her behind insultingly. The rest of the women had taken sides and the walls echoed their foul insults. Rifaa shied away from what he saw

and heard, and he turned i n disgust to the bard's door. Even

the women! Even the cats! Not to mention the strongmen!

Claws on every hand, poison on every tongue, fear and hatred

in every mouth ! Pure air was to be found only in Muqattam

Desert, or in the Great House where the Founder enjoyed

peace alone.

The door opened on the blind man 's face. Rifaa greeted

him, and he smi led and stepped aside for him with words of

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welcome. A smell of i ncense like a breath of heaven met Rifaa

as he wen t in. He followedjawaad to a small square room, with

cushions ranged round the sides and decorated rush matting

spread on the floor. The fading light of late afternoon filtered

through the shuttered windows. The ceiling around the hangi ng lamp was decorated with pictures of doves and other birds.

The bard sat down cross-legged on a cushion and Rifaa settled

down beside him. Jawaad said:

- We were just maki ng coffee.

He cal led his wife, who brought in the coffee tray. He said:

- Come, Mother-at-Heart: this is Rifaa, Mr Shaafiy's son.

The woman sat down on the other side of her husband and

poured some coffee.

- Welcome, my son !

She seemed to be i n her mid-sixties, strong and well built.

She had a tattooed chin and penetrating eyes.Jawaad pointed

towards his guest and said:

- He's a good listener, Mother-at-Heart. He laps up stories.

People like that are a bard'sjoy and i nspiration. The others so

quickly get drowsy from hashish and opium.

His wife said playfully:

- The stories are new to him, familiar to them.

The bard said i ndignantly:

- That's the voice of one of your evil spirits. (Then to

Rifaa: ) My wife's an exorcist.

Rifaa looked at her with interest, and their eyes met as she

handed him his cup of coffee. How the beating of the exorcists' drums had attracted him at Muqattam Bazaar! His heart had danced to Lhem. He used to stand in the road crani ng his

neck towards the window to see the smoke of incense and the

waggi ng heads. The bard asked him:

- Didn't you know anythi ng about the Alley i n your exile?

- My father told me about it, and my mother too, but my

heart was over there, and I didn't care much about the Trust

and its problems. I was amazed at the number ofits victims, and

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Rifaa

I shared my mother's wish for love and peace.

Jawaad shook his head sadly.

- How is it possible for love and peace to live surrou nded

by poverty and the strongmen 's cudgels?

Rifaa did not answer, not because there was no answer but

because his eyes had just come upon a strange picture on the

right-hand side of the room , painted i n oils on the wall like the

pictures in the cafes. It represented a gigantic man, beside

whom the buildi ngs of the Alley looked like doll's houses.

Rifaa asked:

- Who is that a picture of?

Mother-at-Heart answered:

- Gcbclaawi.

- Did somebody sec him?

Jawaad said:

-Oh no! None of our generation has seen him. Even Gebel

couldn't make him out in the darkness of the desert. But the

artist pain ted him as he's described in the stories.

Rifaa said with a sigh:

- Why has he locked his doors against his chi ldren?

- They say it's old age. Who can tell how time has dealt with

him? My God ! If he opened his doors none of the people of the

Alley would stay in their filthy hovels.

- Couldn't you .. .

Mother-at-Heart cut h i m short:

- Don 't trouble your mind with him. When people start

talking about the Founder they end up talking about the Trust,

and then come disasters of every kind.

He shook his head in bewi lderment.

- How can I not trouble my mind with such an amazi ng

Ancestor?

- Let's do as he docs. l-Ie doesn ' t trouble his mind with us.

Rifaa looked up at the picture and said:

- But he met Gebel and spoke to him.

- Yes, and when Gebel died, Snarler came and then

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Dungbeetle, and now it's as if nothing had ever happened.

Jawaad laughed and said to his wife:

- The Alley needs something to drive out its devils as you

drive out evil spirits.

Rifaa smiled.

- The real evil spirits are those people themselves; if only

you'd seen how Dungbeetle received my father!

- Those people are not my business; my kind of spirits obey

me as the snakes obeyed Gebel. I have all the things they like:

incense from Sudan, amulets from Ethiopia and songs of

power.

Rifaa asked her eagerly:

- Where does your power over spirits come from?

She looked at him cautiously.

- It's my job, as carpentry is your father's; it came to me

from God who is the giver of all skil ls.

Rifaa drained h is cup and was about to speak, but his

father's voice shouted from the Alley:

- Rifaa, you lazy-bones!

Rifaa went to the window, opened it and looked out. When

he had caught his father's eye he called down:

- Give me half an hour, Father.

Shaafiy shrugged his shoulders hopelessly and wen t back to

his shop.

As he was closing the shutters, Rifaa caught sight of Aysha,

stationed at her window,just as he had seen her the first time,

gazing eagerly at him. It seemed to him that she smiled or

spoke to him with her eyes. He hesitated a moment, then

closed the shutters and went back to his seat. Jawaad was

laughing.

- Your father wants you to be a carpenter, but what do you

want?

Rifaa thought for a whi le.

- I ' ll have to be a carpenter like my father, but I love stories.

These secrets about spirits, now - tell me about them.

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Rifaa

She smiled and seemed ready to give him a little of her

knowledge:

- Everybody has a ruling spirit, but not every spirit is evil

and needs to be cast out.

- How can we tell one from the other?

- A person's behavior shows it. You, for example, are a

good boy, and your ruling spirit deserves good treatment. The

spirits of Bayoomi and Du ngbeetle and Melonhead are not

like that.

He asked in nocently:

- And jasmine's spirit? Ought that to be cast out?

Mother-at-Heart laughed.

- Your neighbor? But the Gebelite men want her as she is.

He entreated her:

- I want to know about these things; don't grudge it to me.

Jawaad said:

- Who could grudge anything to such a good fellow?

Mother-at-Heart agreed:

- You 're welcome to join me whenever you have time, but

on condition your father doesn'tgetangry. People wil l wonder

what such a good boy has to do with evil spirits; but you must

realize that the only thing wrong with people is their spirits.

Rifaa listened, gazing up at the picture of Gebelaawi.

4 8 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Carpentry was his job and his future; there seemed to be no

getting away from it. If he did not like that, what would he like?

It was better than toiling along behind a barrow or carrying a

basket of wares. As for other 'jobs' lik� bei ng a scrounger or a

strongman, how hateful they were! Mother-at-Heart stirred his

imagination as no one else had done, except of course the

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picture of the Founder onjawaad's wall. He urged his father

one day to have one like it pai nted at home or i n the shop, but

he said:

- We need the money it would cost; besides, it's a fantasy,

and what's the use of fantasy?

- I wish I could see it here.

His father roared with laughter and chided him:

- Wouldn't it be best if you got on with your job? I shan't

live for ever, and you must be ready for the day when you'll

have to support your mother and your wife and children on

your own.

ButRifaa thought about hardly anything except what Motherat-Heart said or did. What she told him about spirits seemed to him of the utmost importance. It left his mind only at the times

when he visited the cafes one after another. Even the old

stories did not sink into him so deeply as Mother-at-Heart's

words, for example: ' Everybody has a spirit that rules them. As

the ruling spirit is, so is the person.' Many an evening he spent

with the woman, following the beating of the drum and

watching the spirits being brought under control. Some sufferers were led to the house, weak and apathetic. Others were carried in, bound and fettered because they were so bad. The

appropriate incense was burnt, for each condition had its

i ncense; and the necessary rhyth m was beaten, for each spirit

demanded a particular rhythm ; and then the miracles happened.

'So we know the cure for each evi l spirit; but what is the cure

for the Trustee and his strongmen? Those evil men despise

exorcism, bu t perhaps it was created just for them. Killing was

the means to get rid of them, but an unclean spirit gives i n to

pure scents and beau tiful sounds. Why should a wicked demon

like somethi ng good? What wonderful things we can learn

from exorcism and spirits. '

He told Mother-at-Heart he wanted from the depths of his

being to learn the secrets of exorcism. She asked him if he

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Rifaa

hoped to earn a lot of money and he replied that what he

wanted was to clean up the Alley, not to make money. She

laughed and said he was the first man to wan t that job; what

drew him to it? l-Ie said with conviction: 'The wisdom of your

work is that you overcome evil with good. '

He was very happy when she began telling him her secrets.

To savor his joy, he used to go up on the roof in the exhilaration of dawn and watch the rebirth of light, but the sight of the Great House took his mind off the stars and the stillness and

the crowi ng of the cocks. He would gaze for a long time at the

house sleeping amid its trees and wonder: 'Where are you,

Gebelaawi? Why don ' t you show yourself, even just for a

moment? Why don't you come out, even just once? Why don ' t

you speak, even just one word? Don't you know that a word