Текст книги "No One Sleeps in Alexandria"

Автор книги: Ibrahim Abdel Meguid

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

She smiled more broadly.

“Did you know I was from the south?” she asked him.

“A white southerner! You must be a southerner from heaven. Do you know the song that says, ‘You’re a houri from heaven/You sneaked in and opened heaven’s gate’?”

“I listen to it a lot and laugh. I also listen to Abd al-Wahhab and Sayyid Darwish. I love them. Last night they were playing Sayyid Darwish’s songs and I cried.”

He looked at her for a while.

“Was it when he sang, ‘You deserve it, my heart. Why did you ever fall in love?’“

“How did you know?” “I heard it. Listen.”

He began to sing to her, and she laughed at his husky voice. A sailboat had come alongside them, and one of the sailors was standing there watching them and smiling. When he heard Rushdí’s singing he sang to them:

O Captain of the sea, take me with you

To learn a trade before I shame myself,

To leave my land and live far away.

I send my greetings morn and night

To one whose love has brought me woe.

I looked up and saw the sail in the wind

And I said, Maybe I’ll stay on land instead.

Rushdi smiled and shouted to ask him if he wanted to hear him make up a mawwal, an Alexandrian rhyme song. The southern sailor said that would be great. So Rushdi thought for a moment, as Camilla smiled, not believing what was happening, feeling elated at her lover’s beautiful madness. Rushdi sang:

My eyes saw a galleon adrift on the sea,

Its captain valiant but his rudder, alas, lost

His eyes could not see, the water swept him.

Even his sail was broken, what was left was tossed.

Camilla nudged him gently in the shoulder, impressed, then applauded in admiration. The sailor sang again:

Two gazelles riding a came!

Have smitten me.

She, the sun; he, the moon

The abode is the heart; the door, the eye.

Rushdi laughed and began to row away as he said to the sailor, “But we’re riding a boat!”

“And the abode is the boat,” the sailor sang back.

Rushdi understood, and he began to explain to Camilla, who was surprised that the sailor could handle such concepts. The last thing the sailor said to them as he sailed away was, “Blame not the wounded one if he groans.”

Suddenly her face turned ashen. She pointed to the water and stood up, screaming. The boat shook and almost capsized. Rushdi stood up quickly and held her arms as she screamed hysterically.

“Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. Close your eyes. Close your eyes.”

She closed her eyes. He went closer to her, and took her in his arms as the boat shook. Then he sat on one side and made her sit on the side of the boat close to the bank of the canal. He grabbed the oars and began to row at a frenzied speed.

“Don’t look at the water. Look at the bank.”

In the water was a swollen sack. From a small opening, a purplish human hand protruded, one finger bearing a ring that shone in the sun – a small, delicate hand of a girl or a woman. He also could not look at the floating sack and kept looking in front of him, rowing frantically to get as far away as possible. When he arrived at the docks in Nuzha, he thought she was conscious and only leaning on him and looking at the bank of the canal. He had not looked at her while he was rowing. As soon as he stood up at the dock, though, she fell to the side where he had been seated; she had been unconscious the whole way without his knowing ¡t. She needed several minutes to come to. Dozens of girls offered her bottles of cologne and cheap perfume. She needed a whole hour of rest before she could stand and return home with him. That day she was out too late for a girl like her. At home there was a firestorm waiting: the school had sent her father a letter informing him of her repeated absences. Yvonne could not lie any more to her parents. She told the whole story, crying and shaking the whole time.

19

If they divulge the secret, their lives would he forfeited

As would be the lives of lovers.

Suhrawardi

The spring offensive started in Europe. The ice had begun to melt on the mountains, and the fog had dissipated over the land. Fires burned, and Berlin and Hamburg suffered devastating air raids by the British. English cities in turn were devastated by raids as Germany began to carry out a new offensive against ports. British ports were subjected to intensive raids, some of which lasted three consecutive nights, as happened in Portsmouth and Manchester, where casualties reached more than two thousand. At the same time, German submarines began to use the wolf-pack method: a group of submarines would simultaneously attack a single target and destroy it. Lieutenant Guenther Prien, one of the most famous German U-boat captains, and others followed this horrific method developed during the previous world war. But Prien and all the other men on U-47 were drowned when the British destroyer Wolverine sank their submarine. U-99 and U-l 00, whose captains, together with Prien, were the most influential leaders in the German navy, were also sunk in heavy fighting, thus handing German U-boats a serious blow. Focke-Wulfe 190 planes, better known as ‘Condors,’ were even deadlier than the U-boats, as they flew great distances over the ocean in search of British ships. The United States began to export military equipment to England, in accordance with the lend-lease program. The States sent Britain seventy-five destroyers and a fleet of boats together. Roosevelt addressed the American people, declaring that no race had the right to subjugate another and no nation to enslave another. There were heavy raids against Cairo and Giza; Alexandrians were no longer the only target. The trains carried large numbers of Indian soldiers coming by boat from their country to Suez. They were mostly under twenty, happy with their uniforms and equipment, unmindful of what it meant to die away from home. Cinema Metro in Cairo screened Mutiny on the Bounty, starring Clark Gable and Charles Laughton. Cinema Studio Misr in Cairo screened The Triumph of Youth, starring Farid al-Atrash and his beautiful sister Asmahan. People in Alexandria continued to complain about adulterated flour. The young men in Karmuz and other native quarters discovered that small military cars were roaming the streets at night during the raids and shooting their anti-aircraft guns at the raiding planes. They realized that those cars were the reason the native quarters were singled out for bombing. Their purpose was to divert the attention of the raiding planes away from the English camps in the suburbs and away from the harbor, where British destroyers and French boats, seized by the British without a fight before the surrender of the Vichy government, were anchored. Groups of patriotic young Egyptian men formed to chase those cars, first with Molotov cocktails, then with hand grenades – an action that limited their appearances during the raids, until they completely disappeared. After that, the raids on the center of Alexandria and Dikhayla and Maks in the west and Sidi Bishr and Bacos in the east diminished. The defeat of Graziani, whose army completely collapsed, contributed to the diminishing scope of the raids. Graziani’s defeat was too big to hide. Il Duce gave a speech in which he admitted defeat: “We do not lie like the British. A whole army, the Fifth Army, with almost all of its units, has been overrun, and the Fifth Air Force has been almost totally obliterated, but we were able to offer strong, sometimes violent resistance.” Mogadishu, capital of Italian Somalia, fell into the hands of the British, then Berbera, winter capital of British Somahland, also fell. Graziani was ousted from all his posts, General Cavallero was likewise removed from his command of the Albanian front after the sweeping victories of the Greeks. General Italo Gariboldi was appointed to the command in Libya. Britain threatened Bulgaria not to give up its neutrality as the Germans amassed troops at its borders. British paratroopers landed in southern Italy, and Genoa was bombed from the sea. The English paratroopers were captured. King Idris al-Sanusi, in full Islamic regalia and round beard, visited the camp of the Libyan battalion made up of Libyan refugees in Egypt. In Libya, the new military governor’s warning was broadcast: “I, Henry Maitland Wilson, commander in chief of the British forces in Libya, hereby warn all inhabitants of the region formerly under Italian control to cease and desist from any action that disturbs public security.” Haille Selassie entered Ethiopia and spoke to his people, congratulating them on the victory. The Nile boat Puritan hosted a party for RAF pilots returning from the battlefields on a one-night furlough at its anchoring place in Gezira in Cairo. During the party Hikmat Fahmi, the number-one dancer in Egypt and all of the east, danced, and Abbas al-Bilaydi, Muhammad Amin, and Aqila Ratib sang. A charity gala party was held at Studio Misr Cinema to raise funds for the Egyptian Red Crescent and Red Cross. Her Royal Highness Queen Nazh and Her Royal Highness Princess Fayza attended, in the royal box seats. The name of the armored division commander who led the attack on Sidi Barraní the previous December, wreaking havoc on the Italian forces and defeating them, was disclosed. It was Lt. General Richard O’Connor. Yugoslavia joined the Axis, but demonstrations erupted, and a coup d’état ended the monarchy there. Yugoslavia declared its neutrality. In the month of February, Italy lost 364 planes. Yusuf Wahbi celebrated the nineteenth anniversary of the establishment of Ramses Theater by showing the play The Madman, in which the brilliant actress Rose al-Yusuf co-starred with him. The British foreign secretary Anthony Eden came to Egypt and met with Egyptian leaders as well as the Eighth Army.

Usta Ghibriyal announced that the railroad authority needed two workers to work at the al-Alamein railway station. He had been summoned to the administration office that morning and was charged with the task, to be completed within a month. “So, whoever wishes to go should come to me, and I will convey his name to the administration.” Then he added, “I know that you’re all married with children, and that you don’t like to stay away from home for a long time. But you have time to think. I hope to find someone who volunteers to go because if that doesn’t happen, I will make the choice myself and, I am told, my decision is final.” Magd al-Din and Dimyan felt they might end up being chosen for that. If no one stepped forward, Ghibriyal would choose them to minimize the problem as much as possible, for they had the least seniority.

Ghaffara began to stay away from Ghayt al-Aynab and Karmuz after most houses there had become vacant. He started working in the neighborhoods of Ghurbal, Paulino, and Muharram Bey every day in the early morning, but would return in the middle of the night, desperate and tired since he had earned hardly enough to feed his donkey. One of the pieces of glass that he used as an eyepiece had fallen off his fez and he did not replace it.

As for Zahra, she had grown big; her seventh month was almost ending, and sitting with Umm Hamidu was no longer a welcome distraction. How could a pregnant woman sit at the entrance of a house on the pavement? Therefore she was deprived of her stories at a time that she needed them most, for now Sitt Maryam’s door was only opened to let someone in or out. It seemed the whole family wished to avoid speaking to anyone. The priest’s visits increased– they became almost a daily occurrence. Zahra would always hear mumbling, muffled quarrels and groans, and sometimes silent weeping. She did not know what to do for the good family that suddenly seemed not to want to talk with anyone.

Umm Hamidu also needed Zahra more those days since Hamidu, her only son, had been arrested and moved to Sinai together with criminals who threatened the security and safety of the country during wartime. The few inhabitants still left in the street were depressed. When a man or a woman would come to buy fruit or vegetables, they would come in silence and leave in silence, their eyes fixed on the ground, as if carrying a mountain of shame. It was feeling the emptiness surrounding everything and expecting death at any time during an air raid that made people so fragile. The only one left for Umm Hamidu to talk with was the vegetable wholesaler each dawn on his cart drawn by a strong horse. As for the Territorial Army soldier who sang and proposed to her, he had been transferred to Damanhur. Zahra told Magd al-Din, “The priest is coming everyday now. I don’t see either of the girls. I don’t know when they leave in the morning. Apparently they sneak out quietly so I won’t see them. Sitt Maryam doesn’t open her door during the day.”

She was surprised when Magd al-Din told her, “And I’ve met Dimitri more than once on the stairs, and he hasn’t stopped to speak to me – he just says hello and goes on. Today he politely asked me if I could move down to Bahi’s room. But I felt he wanted to tell me to move out of the house altogether.”

Right away Zahra said, “There are so many vacant houses, and thousands who want to rent rooms.”

“No. We won’t leave the house. We’ll go downstairs. Dirmtri’s in a tight spot. Today he doesn’t want us to know anything, but tomorrow he might need us.”

Dimyan helped him move the few articles of furniture to Bahi’s room. As soon as Zahra walked in and opened the window looking out on the street and saw Umm Hamidu in the entrance of the opposite house, she felt relief. Here she was not going to suffer the silence that seemed to have taken root on the second floor. She would hear people and children coming and going and talking. After they moved the furniture, Dimyan took Magd al-Din to the café far away on the Mahmudiya canal near the lupino bean vendors. They had not been here in a very long time.

“Why did you bring me here, Dimyan?” Magd al-Din asked him. “We’d almost forgotten this place.”

“Well, first, I’ve made great progress in reading and writing. In a few days, I’ll be able to read the newspaper.”

“Praise the Lord!”

“Second, I wanted to tell you that Khawaga Dimitri is going through a big crisis.”

“I know that, but I don’t know what kind of crisis, and he doesn’t talk to me.”

“I think it’s a crisis that one doesn’t talk about,” said Dimyan after a pause. “It’s also preoccupying the priest at the church. I’ve heard a few things in church about the subject, but I’m not sure whether they were talking about Dimitri or somebody else.” They both fell silent for a long time. Magd al-Din was not the inquisitive kind and never made an effort to know what people were doing. Even secrets that came his way, he did not divulge. He hated scandal-mongering and gossip of all kinds.

“There’s talk about a Christian girl’s love for a Muslim boy,” Dimyan finally said.

Magd al-Din’s eyes opened wide in surprise. That was the first time he had heard about that.

“This is something that happens rarely, Sheikh Magd,” Dimyan continued, “and it always fails, but only after causing crises at home and in the church. Eor you in Islam, there’s no problem. In our case, there is.”

Magd al-Din made no reply. “Of course, I don’t know whether this has anything to do with Dimitri’s family or not. But in any case, Dimitri has a problem that only time will reveal.”

Magd al-Din returned home dejected. Zahra asked him why he was down, and he could find no excuse but Hamza to get him out of the sticky situation. He said Hamza had not vet returned– and that was true. She said he had already told her that. He told her there was much talk about his possibly being a prisoner of war, held by the Germans. She could not imagine how he knew that. He also did not know how and why he said that. Hamza’s disappearance a few days before had caused him and his colleagues a great deal of worry. Usta Ghibriyal notified the railroad administration, which notified the Alexandria police department, which informed them that it in turn had notified the military command of the Eighth Army in Marsa Matruh and was waiting for news. Hamza’s wife and his three young daughters never stopped crying at their home in the railroad housing compound. Hamza’s relatives came from Rosetta. They turned out to be well-off and quite respectable. It also turned out that one of his cousins was a notable who held an important position in the Wafd party and that he was pulling all the strings he could to get news about poor Hamza.

Ordinarily when Hamza’s colleagues spoke in disapproval and surprise about what had happened to him, a silent sadness would fall over them. But the matter was not without its humorous aspects. One of them would say that Hamza would suffer most from silence because he would not understand English or Indian, and the few words that he knew would not really help him. He would not get a chance to say that he had seen what the soldiers said they had seen or that it had happened to him before it happened to them. Neither Bayram’s poetry, nor anyone else’s, would do him any good. But in the end they would express total disbelief. Who would have thought that this had been preordained for Hamza?

Now they were more careful when they approached the troop trains; they did not come too close to them any more. In many instances, they no longer spoke to the soldiers or cared to get what canned foods they used to get. They realized that those things were worthless compared to the disappearance of their colleague, abducted in the dark. Yesterday Dimyan sobbed. He and Magd al-Din felt the loss the most once his disappearance was confirmed the day after his abduction. Dimyan felt sorry because he had always argued with him and was happy to expose his delightful little lies. Magd al-Din felt sorry because he had insulted him once and because he himself had thought about the possibility of being abducted, of being pulled up by the hand to the train and taken to the front, as had happened to his brother Bahi in the previous war. Had he known Hamza’s fate beforehand, but was not aware of it, or was he the cause of it, with this crazy thinking of his?

Hamza had been pleasant with Dimyan and gentle with Magd al-Din; he was kind to children and loved everyone. He was worthy both of pity and love, and that was how everyone felt, especially Shahin, the tallest and strongest among them. He was very muscular and could carry a crosstie with one hand, and usually during work he carried two on his arms. He was the most dejected, but in reality it was for another reason-when Magd al-Din went to tell him that Hamza was smart and would know how to come back, he was surprised to see Shahin’s eyes well up with tears as he said in a soft voice, “You’re a good man, Sheikh Magd. You know God’s Quran by heart. Please come with me to cure my son with the Quran, or show him the right path.”

In the afternoon of the same day, Yvonne had come back from school shaking. No sooner had she got upstairs to their apartment than she went running back down with her mother behind her. Zahra was coming in from outside as Yvonne ran into her at the end of the staircase and let herself fall in her bosom, crying, “Camilla’s gone, Tante Zahra! Camilla’s never coming back!” The girl’s tender heart was pounding and her eyes were filled with tears, her whole body quivering. The mother appeared behind her looking very angry and grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her. Zahra had let the things she had bought drop to the floor and placed her arms around Yvonne, patting her on the back.

“Please let the girl be, Sitt Maryam,” she said. “We’ve eaten bread and salt together.”

“Zahra, don’t come between us.” Sitt Maryam spoke so harshly that Zahra’s arms pulled away and she let Yvonne go. The mother dragged her daughter upstairs. Zahra went inside, oblivious to the things she had bought and dropped on the floor. In her room she sat and cried.

Dimyan went to the right as Magd al-Din turned left toward the railroad houses with Shahin and the other workers. There were a few clouds heralding rain that might fall after midnight, the rain that lasted for a short time but usually took Alexandria by surprise once or twice in the several weeks after winter had ended.

Shahin, with his powerful build, walked briskly, taking long strides as Magd al-Din barely kept up with him. All the workers except Dimyan were walking toward the houses. They had started out together, but after a short while, they spread out as some walked fast and others at a more relaxed pace. As they were crossing the gate separating the houses from the railroad tracks, Shahin told Magd al-Din, “These are old houses from the first war – they used to be warehouses and barracks for the English forces. You should apply to get one of them, since several workers are going to retire soon.”

“I’ll do it, God willing,” Magd al-Din said with genuine hope. If he got a house here, that would be his best accomplishment in Alexandria. He said to himself that he would tell Dimyan to apply with him, for they had been lucky together so far. As they left the narrow dusty road, the Mahmudiya canal and the road parallel to it came into view. Magd al-Din knew that place well from the days of looking for work. He had come many times to work for the oil and soap company a short distance past the houses. They turned left and passed a few yellow, one-story houses with closed windows.

After a few steps, they crossed the main gateway, which used to have a double door framed with tree trunks that was locked at night when the soldiers were there. Now the door was gone.

In front of the houses were some tin shacks that made the alleys even narrower, barely enough for two persons to walk side by side. From the shacks rose the smell and sounds of goats and sheep and chickens. Shahin led Magd al-Din to a short, wide street between two rows of houses that showed only their closed windows, since the doors were on the other side. After turning right at the end of the street, they stopped at the door to one of the shacks. “This is the house, Sheikh Magd.” Shahin knocked on the door of the tin shack. From inside came a light and a voice asking who was there. The woman opened the door, carrying the small kerosene lamp. She stood behind the door as Shahin entered, then Magd al-Din. The chickens in the corner moved, and in another corner, a little goat moved, kicking its feet as it lay on its side. Shahin entered a big hall, empty except for a mat and a few scattered cushions, a few books lying around, an old wooden table with a few books in no particular order, and behind the table, a straw chair. Then Shahin went into a large inner room that had a bed of medium height and a sofa on which Rushdi was lying down. As soon as Rushdi saw his father and his guest, he sat up. He was wearing a clean gallabiya. The walls were clean and painted sky blue. The ceiling was painted white, and the room was lit by a big number-ten kerosene lamp placed on a shelf on the wall.

“My son Rushdi, Sheikh Magd.” Shahin said then, addressing Rushdi, “Your uncle, Sheikh Magd al-Din.” The woman, Shahin’s wife and Rushdi’s mother, did not come into the room but stayed in the hall, thinking about this Sheikh whose face glowed with light and serenity and about whose piety Shahin often spoke. Would he succeed in curing her son of his sudden ailment? Magd al-Din sat next to Rushdi. Shahin sat at the other end of the sofa. Magd al-Din saw many little books in the corners of the room and a small unsteady wooden bookcase attached to the wall. He realized that he was in the presence of a young man who was different from what he had expected. He spoke first.

“What’s wrong, Ustaz Rushdi?” he addressed the boy respectfully. “What’s your complaint exactly?”

“Have you come to treat me, venerable Sheikh?”

Rushdi was deathly pale, with profoundly sad eyes. He had not been shaving, but his beard was not long, just a few clumps of hair here and there on his cheeks, hardly reaching the line of his jaw. His face was so gaunt one could see the bones under the skin.

“Only God cures, Ustaz Rushdi.”

Rushdi calmly shook his head and said, “Your task is impossible, venerable Sheikh.” He started to cry and was soon sobbing deeply. The mother too was heard sobbing outside.

His father embraced the boy and told him, “Don’t kill me, my son. Don’t kill your mother. Tell us what’s wrong.”

Rushdi turned and looked at Sheikh Magd al-Din for a long time then said, “The Quran will not cure me, venerable Sheikh. Please forgive me. I mean no disrespect. I have very strong faith and my problem is that my faith encompasses all people and all religions – therefore, I have fallen in love with a Christian girl. This is my ordeal, venerable Sheikh.”

Rushdi spoke in a choking voice, trying to prevent himself from crying. Magd al-Din was now sure that he was in the presence of a very intelligent young man. The father was at a loss for words. Outside, the mother could be heard saying, “God protect us. Why, my son, do you want to waste your life falling in love with an infidel?”

Magd al-Din could not tell Rushdi that he was too young to fall in love, for while he looked gaunt and fragile, he seemed to be widely read, and it would be difficult to convince him of anything that he did not understand. That was why Magd al-Din remained silent as Rushdi continued, “I know how afraid my father and my mother are for me. I’m not insane, and I will not let insanity get to me. I just haven’t seen her for ten days. I think her parents have found out and killed her. She doesn’t go to school any more. Even her sister – I don’t know if she’s quit school too, or what, but I don’t see her any more either. I’ve gone to their house and stood there during the day and at night, but I didn’t find out anything, and no one’s told me anything.”

The boy’s lips quivered in the pale yellow light as be spoke. His tears flowed ceaselessly. Those made miserable by love die young, Magd al-Din said to himself, as he remembered Bahi – he was certain of the end. The boy’s pale face gave off the same aura of the sacred that Bahi had. The only difference between the two was the difference between the village and the city. City people gave themselves willingly to love, and did not leave themselves at the mercy of the wind.

“What do you think, Sheikh Magd?” the poor father asked after Magd al-Din’s long silence. Magd al-Din looked at the boy, then reached out his hand to the boy’s shoulder and pulled him to his chest. The boy rested against Magd al-Din’s chest as the latter began to recite verses from the Quran. The mother sobbed outside, and the father prayed for a cure for his son in silence. Magd al-Din was the only one who realized that the boy had been preordained to feel this agony, that his end was near, and that he was no match for this age. He lifted the boy’s face from his chest and began to dry his tears with his handkerchief, saying, “If I were to ask God for anything, Ustaz Rushdi, it would be for a boy as intelligent and wise as you.

“Listen Shahin,” he said to the father, “Islam permits Muslim men to marry non-Muslim women, Christian or Jewish. The Prophet enjoined Muslims to treat Egypt’s Copts well. He was the husband of Maryam the Copt, mother of his son Ibrahim. But the problem, Ustaz Rushdi, is that you are at the beginning of your life and you need time. You’ve also chosen the tightest path. Neither your father nor your mother will object to your marrying the Christian girl.” The mother was heard muttering outside. Magd al-Din continued, “But do you know what her family is like? There are good Christians and there are bad Christians, exactly like all human beings in this world. If the girl has disappeared, as you say, then it is your duty to disappear also, to give her the opportunity for a normal life. I have learned from your father, Ustaz Rushdi, that you are in the last year of secondary school, that you are a poet, that you forgo food sometimes to buy books and learn languages, that you are preparing yourself to travel to Europe where, God willing, the war will be over this year, and you may become a genius like Taha Husayn. Love and marriage now would put a stop to all of that. Besides, Ustaz Rushdi, don’t be afraid for the girl. We have a proverb that says ‘Break a girl’s rib, she’ll grow two,’ and women usually forget quicker than men. They rush to love and rush to forget.”

Everyone was silent for a long time, until Rushdi said suddenly, “I will go to her family to tell them that I’ll stay away from her.”

The mother came into the room in panic, saying, “No! Don’t go! Nobody’s going anywhere! Everything will end on its own.”

Noticing the anguish on the boy’s face, Magd al-Din said to him, “Let me go in your place. Give me her address and her name, and I’ll make sure she’s all right and put an end to the problem.”

After some reluctance Rushdi said, “Her name is Camilla. She lives on Ban Street, house number eighty-eight. She once told me that a man who worked for the railroad lived in their house, but she didn’t tell me his name.” Magd al-Din said nothing. He got up, his face pale. His hands shook as he gripped the boy’s hand and patted him on the back. Shahin walked with him to the Mahmudiya canal, but Magd al-Din was oblivious to his presence.

Magd al-Din hurried away as if something were chasing him. Was it the boy’s languid eyes or his pale, tormented face?

He sauntered along the dark street by Mahmudiya Canal, barely seeing his way, since there were no street lights, just the feeble glow of a little moon, sneaking through the occasional gaps in the clouds, reflected faintly on the small, shallow ponds on the unevenly paved road – just enough light to enable him to either jump over or walk around them. On the canal itself, there were some faint lights from a few torches on the barges and ships anchored far apart in the dark, with the white sails of the ships furled on the masts. The ships looked like giants, made only of darkness. The factories on the other hank were also dark, though their high windows gave off muted violet rays. The smokestack emitted white smoke that was quite visible in the dark, even though it was intermittent and thin. The streetcar moving on the other bank also cast pale yellow lights that enabled him to see a man climbing up from the canal. He must have been relieving himself, or perhaps he was an inhabitant of that godforsaken area. He could not quite make the man out, but saw him as a mass of black moving upwards. To Magd al-Din’s right were the big warehouses of Bank Misr, which extended for a long stretch. He saw one of its gates was open; he could tell only because the area beyond it was darker than the sections on either side of it. Then he saw two cigarettes glowing for a moment, revealing two indistinct faces. They were almost certainly two guards from the Territorial Army.