He did not turn his eyes from her for a single instant. Memories flowed through him strangely, sadly, and with a deadly bewilderment. He had no idea of what he would do now. He had firmly believed her to be his whole world — yet where was she?
Like the close of life, sunset descended. The customers went off one after the other. Finally she seated herself on a low rush chair and smoked a cigarette. As an escape from his confusion, he decided to present himself before her. He stood in front of her and said, “Good evening, lady.”
In curiosity she raised two eyes penciled round with kohl. She did not recognize him, so she followed the smoke of her cigarette and muttered, “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.”
She looked at him again with a certain sudden interest, and their eyes met in a fixed gaze. Her eyebrows rose, and the side of her mouth twisted into a half-smile.
“It’s me.”
“Sharshara!”
“The very same, but twenty years later.”
“It’s a long life.”
“Like an illness.”
“Praise God you’re well. Where were you?”
“The big wide world.”
“You’ve got a job and a family and children?”
“Not a thing.”
“And at last you returned to Shardaha.”
“A return of failure and frustration.”
A doubting, questioning look gleamed in her eyes, and he said angrily, “Death beat me to it.”
“Everything is over and done with,” she muttered sadly.
“Hope was buried with him.”
“Everything is over and done with.”
They exchanged a long look; then he inquired, “And how are you?”
She pointed to the baskets of eggs. “As you can see — just fine.”
“Didn’t you…didn’t you get married?”
“The boys and girls all grew up.”
It was an answer that meant nothing. A feeble excuse that was like a snare. What was the good of returning before regaining one’s lost honor? How ghastly is a vacuum! Pointing to an empty chair in a corner of the shop, she said, “Sit down.” A soft intonation as in the days of old. Yet there was nothing left but dust.
“Another time.” He hesitated in tortured confusion, then shook her by the hand and left. The time would not come again.
This is how you found yourself twenty years ago. Then, though, hope had not yet gone to its grave.
He hated the idea of going to the mountain by the Gawwala road. He did not want to see people or be seen by them. There was also the route through the wasteland, so it was toward the wasteland that he headed.
*A Muslim saint whose tomb is in Alexandria.
The Norwegian Rat
Fortunately we were not alone in this affliction. Mr. A.M., being the senior householder in the building, had invited us to a meeting in his flat for an exchange of opinions. There were not more than ten people present, including Mr. A.M., who, in addition to being the oldest among us, held the most senior position and was also the most well off. No one failed to show up — and how could they, seeing that it had to do with the rats and their likely invasion of our homes and their threat to our safety? Mr. A.M. began in a voice of great gravity with “As you all know…” and then set forth what the papers had been reiterating about the advance of the rats, their vast numbers, and the terrible destruction that would be wrought by them. Voices were raised around the room.
“What is being said is quite beyond belief.”
“Have you seen the television coverage?”
“They’re not ordinary rats; they’re even attacking cats and people.”
“Isn’t it likely that things are a bit exaggerated?”
“No…no, the facts are beyond any exaggeration.”
Then, calmly and with pride in being the chairman, Mr. A.M. said, “It has in any case been established that we are not alone. This has been confirmed to me by the Governor.”
“It’s good to hear that.”
“So all we have to do is carry out instructions meticulously, both those that come directly through me and those that come by way of the authorities.”
“And will this cost us a great deal?” it occurred to one of us to inquire.
He resorted to the Koran for a reply. “ ‘God does not charge a soul beyond its scope.’ ”
“The main thing is that the costs should not be excessive.”
This time he resorted to a maxim. “An evil is not warded off by something worse.”
At which more than one voice said, “We would hope that you will find us cooperative.”
“We are with you,” said Mr. A.M., “but do not rely upon us wholly. Rely too upon yourselves, starting at least with the obvious things.”
“Absolutely so, but what are the obvious things?”
“Having traps and the traditional poisons.”
“Fine.”
“Having as many cats as possible in the stairwell and on the roofs. Also inside the flats if circumstances permit.”
“But it’s said that the Norwegian rat attacks cats.”
“Cats are not without their use.”
We returned to our homes in high spirits and with a sincere resolve. Soon, rats predominated over the rest of our worries. They made frequent appearances in our dreams, occupied the most time in our conversations, and came to engross us as life’s main difficulty. We proceeded to take the precautions we had promised to, as we awaited the coming of the enemy. Some of us were saying that there was not long to go, while others said that one day we’d spot a rat darting past and that this would be the harbinger of imminent danger.
Many different explanations were given for the proliferation of rats. One opinion was that it was due to the Canal towns being empty after the evacuation, another attributed it to the negative aspects of the High Dam, others blamed it on the system of government, while many saw in it God’s wrath at His servants for their refusal to accept His guidance. We expended laudable efforts in making rational preparations, about which no one was negligent. At a further meeting held at his home, the estimable Mr. A.M., may God preserve him, said, “I am happy with the preventive measures you have taken, and I am pleased to see the entrance to our building swarming with cats. Certainly there are those who complain about the expense of feeding them, but this is of little importance when we think of our safety and security.” He scrutinized our faces with satisfaction, then asked, “What news of the traps?”
One of us (an eminent educator) answered. “I caught a skinny specimen — one of our local rats.”
“Whatever a rat’s identity, it’s still harmful. Anyway, today I must inform you of the necessity, with the enemy at our gates, for being even more on your guard. Quantities of the new poison ground up in corn will be distributed to us. It is to be placed in vulnerable places such as the kitchen, though extreme care should be taken to protect children, poultry, and pets.”
Everything happened just as the man said, and we told ourselves that we were truly not alone in the battle. Gratitude welled up in us for our solicitous neighbor and our revered Governor. Certainly all this had required of us a lot of care on top of our daily worries. And unavoidable mistakes did occur. Thus a cat was killed in one home and a number of chickens in another, but there were no losses in terms of human life. As time went on we became more and more tense and alert, and the suspense weighed heavily on us. We told ourselves that the happening of a calamity was preferable to the waiting for it. Then, one day, I met a neighbor at the bus stop, and he said, “I heard from a reliable source the rats have annihilated an entire village.”