Al-Sayyid
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad is a powerful merchant both feared and loved (mostly feared)
by his family, but loved, respected, and highly sought after by fellow
merchants, government officials, attorneys, and women of Cairo. Amina, Ahmad’s
wife, learned early on in their marriage to fear her husband:
It
had occurred to her once, during the first year she lived with him, to venture
a polite objection to his repeated nights out. His response had been to seize
her by the ears and tell her peremptorily in a loud voice, “I’m a man. I’m the
one who commands and forbids. I will not accept any criticism of my behavior.
All I ask of you is to obey me. Don’t force me to discipline you.”
She
learned from this, and from the other lessons that followed, to adapts to
everything…in order to escape the glare of his wrathful eye.” (4)
Kamal’s
harmless, childish pranks must be hidden from his father, and even Yasin, the
eldest, who’s body “resembled his father’s in size and bulk” (16) feared Ahmad
as well.
Ahmad is as loved by those who do
not have to endure his tyranny as he is feared by those who do, and is even
reprimanded by friends for missing a party because “they had not found the same
pleasure in drinking that they did with him. Their party, as they put it,
lacked its soul” (83). Despite being either loved or feared (and sometimes
both) by, seemingly, all of Cairo, Ahmad has an almost unavoidable adversary:
The Australian army. What angered him the most, sadly, was that their “tyranny separated
him from the Ezbekiya Garden entertainment district, which he had abandoned in defeat…He
could not stand to expose himself to
soldiers who openly plundered people of their possessions and took pleasure in
abusing and insulting them without restraint” (12).
Yasin, who takes after his father in
his lust for women, is also forced to abandon the “festivities” of the Ezbekiya
entertainment district: “Then the Australians appeared on the field, and Yasin
had been obliged to forsake his place of amusement to escape their brutality”
(72). He too laments his circumstances: “God curse the Australians! Where are
you, Ezbekiya, for me to disperse my care and sorrow in you and draw a little
patience from you?” (75).
Besides interrupting—or only
slightly hindering—nights of debauchery and infidelity, the Australian
occupation seems to be of little consequence to the people of Cairo. The
merchants, thus far, remain unharmed, as do the families and regular
townspeople, seemingly, so long as they avoid the entertainment district. I
feel like I keep waiting for the Australians to exhibit signs of widespread tyranny,
but all Ahmad and Yasin can complain about is the army getting in the way of
their escapades. Is Mahfouz simply introducing sporadic moments of tyranny to
later fully release the Australians on the people of Cairo, or is this as far
as it goes? And if this is “as far as it goes,” then what is Mahfouz saying
about Australia’s occupation of Egypt during this time? That their presence was
a minor annoyance? That is was necessary because it was a time of war? I feel
like I have more questions than answers at this point, but hope to see the actual
effects of an occupation, rather than the minor inconvenience the Australians
pose to wanton men.
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