Chapters (47)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Acknowledgment
- Translator’s Introduction
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- About the Author
- Other Titles
- What’s next onyour reading list?
He was still at the beginning of the path. His frugality increased with time and his attachment to his primitive house grew stronger. Money was a safeguard, he felt; and, if need be, it could be a dowry for the bride of his dreams. The bride of his dreams who would open closed doors and entice the treasure of the future out of its hiding place. Officials had a whole lore of wise sayings and proverbs on the subject. The right bride would be either the reward of glory achieved early or the key to glory that otherwise could hardly be achieved at all. The path seemed long and difficult and he needed succor. Rumor had it that His Excellency the Director General reached his unique position when he was fairly young thanks to politics and family connections and that as a result he married a girl of ineffable beauty from a highly respected family.
It was also rumored that the First Deputy Director of the department was promoted because of his wife, or more correctly his wife’s family.
Othman had equipped himself with every possible weapon. Nobody could blame him, then, if he sought the support of a wellborn bride; otherwise how was he to stand against the ruthless current of time? So he started to do translations for newspapers and magazines to earn more money and build up his savings. In this too he was by no means unsuccessful, but he did not spend a single piastre more to alleviate the harshness of his life. Of all the fun in the world he knew only one thing: his weekly visit to Qadriyya in the lane and that hellish glass of wine at half a piastre.
Once she said to him, “You never change this suit. You wear it summer and winter. I’ve known it for years just as I’ve known you.”
He frowned and said nothing.
“Don’t be cross! I like a good laugh.”
“Have you counted the money I have given to you over the past years?” he said to her naïvely.
“I once had a crush on a man,” she retorted sardonically, “and he stole two hundred pounds from me. Do you know what two hundred pounds means?”
At the thought of such a disaster he prayed to God for protection from the countless afflictions of life.
“And what did you do?” he asked her.
“Nothing. God keeps us in good health. That’s what matters.”