God Dies by the Nile and Other Novels by Nawal El Saadawi Page B
Authors: Nawal El Saadawi
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sleep as though abandoning herself to a man, opening her thighs wide apart and dropping into a deep oblivion right in the middle of the prayer offered to God.
With her ear stuck to the wall, Fatheya followed the tapping noise made by Sheikh Hamzawiâs stick as he moved along the lane. She could detect the sound of his foot if it collided with anything on the ground. His eyesight was weak and his stickor his foot seemed always to be colliding with something, or getting entangled in it. It could be a dead rabbit, or a dead cat, or a stone, or a pebble which he would strike away from the door with a sweep of his stick. Sometimes his foot got entangled in his caftan as he stepped over the threshold of his house, making him falter, or his shoe would land on a clod of manure, or the droppings which a dog had left in front of the door since the night before. The rosary would sway furiously in his hand as he heaped curses over dogs and people alike.
But this time his foot collided with a body that was neither that of a dead rabbit, nor of a dead cat. It was moving, and alive, and also much bigger. He was seized with fright thinking it could be a spirit, or an elf of the night. But a moment later he heard a faint moaning, and when he looked down at the ground despite his dimmed eyesight, he could discern what looked like a rosy face, two eyes with tears at the fringes of the closed lashes, and an open mouth with lips which trembled slightly, as it breathed in air with a gasping sound.
For a moment he stood stock still not daring to move. Could it be that Allah had responded to his prayers? Had the amulet of Haj Ismail at last produced its magic effect? This child seemed as though it had fallen from the night sky right in front of his door, just as Christ had come down from on high to where the Virgin Mary had lain down to rest under a tree.
His lips opened to emit a faint choking sound. Nothing was beyond the power of Allah, praised be His name, andclamoured to the high heavens. He continued to stand as still as a statue. His long, narrow face looked even longer than usual, but now it started to show up more distinctly as the pale light of dawn touched it. His eyes were slightly misty, and over one of them was a white spot which shone mysteriously. The yellow beads of his rosary were worn away where his fingers had rubbed against them during the endless hours of a lifetime spent in worship and prayer. But now, maybe for the first time during his waking hours, the beads had ceased to go round.
At that precise moment of the new day the Chief of the Village Guard had ended his night vigil and was on his way home. He came upon the figure of Sheikh Hamzawi standing motionless in front of his door. He had never seen him standing like that before, nor ever seen his face look so long and drawn. It was as though he now had two faces. The upper one was that of Sheikh Hamzawi, whereas the lower face bore no resemblance to him at all, nor to any other face he had seen in Kafr El Teen, nor for that matter, in the whole wide world, although he had not seen much of what was outside Kafr El Teen. It resembled neither the face of a human being, nor that of a spirit. For all he knew it could have been the face of a devil, or that of a saint, or even the face of God himself, except that he knew not what the face of God looked like, since it was not a face that he had seen.
He halted suddenly, and stood there as though turned to stone. His eyes were fixed on the strange ghostlike form thelike of which he had never set his eyes on before. For it was not like man, or saint, or devil, or any other of the many creations of God. He saw it bend and lift something that lay at its feet. He felt his fingers close tightly around the huge stick he carried around with the instinctive movement of the village guard. He was on the point of lifting it high up in the air to bring it down with all his might on the head bending low over the ground. But at that
With her ear stuck to the wall, Fatheya followed the tapping noise made by Sheikh Hamzawiâs stick as he moved along the lane. She could detect the sound of his foot if it collided with anything on the ground. His eyesight was weak and his stickor his foot seemed always to be colliding with something, or getting entangled in it. It could be a dead rabbit, or a dead cat, or a stone, or a pebble which he would strike away from the door with a sweep of his stick. Sometimes his foot got entangled in his caftan as he stepped over the threshold of his house, making him falter, or his shoe would land on a clod of manure, or the droppings which a dog had left in front of the door since the night before. The rosary would sway furiously in his hand as he heaped curses over dogs and people alike.
But this time his foot collided with a body that was neither that of a dead rabbit, nor of a dead cat. It was moving, and alive, and also much bigger. He was seized with fright thinking it could be a spirit, or an elf of the night. But a moment later he heard a faint moaning, and when he looked down at the ground despite his dimmed eyesight, he could discern what looked like a rosy face, two eyes with tears at the fringes of the closed lashes, and an open mouth with lips which trembled slightly, as it breathed in air with a gasping sound.
For a moment he stood stock still not daring to move. Could it be that Allah had responded to his prayers? Had the amulet of Haj Ismail at last produced its magic effect? This child seemed as though it had fallen from the night sky right in front of his door, just as Christ had come down from on high to where the Virgin Mary had lain down to rest under a tree.
His lips opened to emit a faint choking sound. Nothing was beyond the power of Allah, praised be His name, andclamoured to the high heavens. He continued to stand as still as a statue. His long, narrow face looked even longer than usual, but now it started to show up more distinctly as the pale light of dawn touched it. His eyes were slightly misty, and over one of them was a white spot which shone mysteriously. The yellow beads of his rosary were worn away where his fingers had rubbed against them during the endless hours of a lifetime spent in worship and prayer. But now, maybe for the first time during his waking hours, the beads had ceased to go round.
At that precise moment of the new day the Chief of the Village Guard had ended his night vigil and was on his way home. He came upon the figure of Sheikh Hamzawi standing motionless in front of his door. He had never seen him standing like that before, nor ever seen his face look so long and drawn. It was as though he now had two faces. The upper one was that of Sheikh Hamzawi, whereas the lower face bore no resemblance to him at all, nor to any other face he had seen in Kafr El Teen, nor for that matter, in the whole wide world, although he had not seen much of what was outside Kafr El Teen. It resembled neither the face of a human being, nor that of a spirit. For all he knew it could have been the face of a devil, or that of a saint, or even the face of God himself, except that he knew not what the face of God looked like, since it was not a face that he had seen.
He halted suddenly, and stood there as though turned to stone. His eyes were fixed on the strange ghostlike form thelike of which he had never set his eyes on before. For it was not like man, or saint, or devil, or any other of the many creations of God. He saw it bend and lift something that lay at its feet. He felt his fingers close tightly around the huge stick he carried around with the instinctive movement of the village guard. He was on the point of lifting it high up in the air to bring it down with all his might on the head bending low over the ground. But at that
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