Let the days go by!
Whatever happened, he had become a family man and the owner of a tomb; he had come to know new kinds of food, other than sheep’s head, rice, lentils, and beans, and he had also discovered something to be done with money other than mummifying it in the Post Office Savings Bank.
But were days not heavy and monotonous in their passage? Had he lost hope irretrievably?
Out of the stream of days there rose, quite unexpectedly, a high and powerful tide which changed fortunes and created the world anew. One morning the whole ministry learned of the decision to appoint Bahjat Noor, the Director General, as Under Secretary of State. Thus the position of Director General became vacant for the first time in a very long period. For two weeks many hearts were beating in continuous and uneasy expectation until it was decided to promote Abdullah Wajdi, the Director of Administration, to Director General; so he became a full-fledged “Excellency.” Another heart which had been tranquil for a long time began to beat with excitement.
“I’m the only eligible person,” Othman said to himself. “I’m first in line for promotion and nobody has got my ability or experience. What are they going to do?”
A few weeks elapsed without anything happening. Othman spared no effort in pleading his cause with both the new Director General and the Under Secretary of State.
In a conversation, he heard someone express the opinion that the position of Director of Administration was a sensitive one. He asked him what he meant.
“It is not only experience and qualifications that count when such appointments are made. Social status matters too,” said the man.
“That’s only true in the case of an Under Secretary of State or a Minister,” Othman retorted with indignation. “As for Director of Administration or even Director General, these are jobs open to the common people. This has been the case since British officials stopped taking them.”
His anguish did not last for long, for the decision to promote him to Director of Administration was made the same month. Later he used to remember that day with a kind of passionate excitement, and he would say to himself, “The miracle took place in a twinkling!” And he would also say, “In terms of seniority there is no one now between me and the Director General.”
But how did the miracle take place? He had already come to believe that he was going to be pensioned off before anybody ahead of him in the official line had moved. But a Cabinet change took place in which the Under Secretary of State was made Minister, and as a result there was that happy and unexpected shuffle lower down.
Bahjat Noor, now Under Secretary of State, said to him, “I’ve promoted you in the face of many objections.”
Othman thanked him warmly. “But why the objections?” he inquired sadly.
“You’ve been too long in government service not to be able to guess the answer to your question.”
However, he now set about his work with the same old vigor as in the past. He pledged before God to make history during his directorship of the administration and to create an unmatchable record full of expert and ingenious administrative practices that would last forever. He was going to demonstrate to everybody that a government post was something sacred, a duty to humanity and a form of worship in the full sense of the word.
From the first day he determined to give Abdullah Wajdi the fullest cooperation. For cooperating with the Director General was a sacred ritual of government service, and he had never been unfaithful to the duties of his office. Moreover, he was determined to use his own experience to cover up the Director General’s incompetence, and even to offer him what private help he needed just as he did with the Under Secretary of State. Perhaps one day he might reap what he had sown.
“It’s true that Abdullah Wajdi is still a young man,” he would tell himself, “but the age of miracles has returned.” But in point of fact he did not pin his hopes on miracles alone. He watched Abdullah Wajdi’s corpulence with interest and listened with secret happiness to gossip about his overindulgence in food and drink.
“There is no end to the diseases that people like him are exposed to,” he would think to himself.
And it was only fair, wasn’t it? For in spite of his limitations, he himself was a believer, a man of God, a follower of al-Husayn, the Prophet’s grandson; and God would never abandon him. On the Day of Judgment what better could a man plead than the noble ambitions he had entertained, the achievements with which he had been blessed, the steady progress he had made, and the record of the services he had done for the state and the people? The state was God’s temple on earth, and our standing in both this world and the next was determined by the extent to which we exerted ourselves for its sake.
Meanwhile, the peace and quiet of his matrimonial life did not last long. However much he deceived himself and hoped for the best, the difficulties were predictable. He reproached his wife, “Qadriyya, you drink too much.”
She looked at him with astonishment.
“Yes, I know, and I’ve always done so.”
“It’s never too late to overcome our bad habits,” he said hopefully.
“Not worth the effort.”
“But it is,” he went on in the same vein, “and my hope is to see you praying and fasting. We need God’s blessing.”
“I believe in God,” she retorted angrily. “And I know He is merciful and forgiving.”
“You are a respectable woman, and a respectable woman wouldn’t get drunk every night.”
“How often then does a respectable woman get drunk?”
“She shouldn’t at all.”
She gave a hoarse laugh, and then quickly her look darkened and she said wistfully, “It’s hopeless!”
“How do you mean?”
“We can’t hope to have a child. It’s too late.”
He was conscious of sharing her sorrow but said, “We can still live happily.”
She made a halfhearted attempt to keep off the drink but went on much as before. Indeed, Othman’s renewed absorption in his work and her brooding about the dreadful emptiness of life without companionship may have made her an even worse addict than she already was. One evening Othman was appalled to see her taking opium.
“No!” he screamed.
“Let things be!” she said sharply.
“Since when have you been…” he inquired anxiously.
“Since Noah and his Flood.”
“But…”
“Oh, lay off! It’s stronger than death.”
“But death and opium are one and the same.”
“I don’t care,” came the reckless answer.
He was overcome with horror. What had he done with himself? He had gone after illusory happiness and now he had to pay the price. It was useless to think of divorce, for that would lead him into a fierce dispute which could finally destroy him.
“How do you get it?” he asked her.
She did not reply.
“So you’re going to those old contacts that were always suspect. Don’t you know how dangerous that can be?”
“Don’t exaggerate!”
“Qadriyya, think about it, please! If you do not change your lifestyle, it will be the end of us.”
To protect his reputation and his future he managed, by a great effort of will and after what nearly amounted to a fight, to get her to a rehabilitation center in Hilwan, where she stayed for a few months until her addiction was cured.
He imagined she had come back a new woman. But now food became the only consolation in her life and she ate gluttonously. She kept putting on more and more weight until her body became so grotesquely fat as to invite not just ridicule but pity. He never ceased to worry about her. All day long his attention was divided between her and his work. And he would say sadly to himself, “I have even lost the one thing that made those nights of animal behavior enjoyable, for all that’s left of her now is a miserable wreck: no manners, no faith, no sense, and no taste.”
He recalled the arguments which some of his politically minded colleagues advanced to justify cases like his wife’s by blaming them on social injustice and class inequality. But he also recalled his own “case.” Did he not grow up, like Qadriyya, poor, helpless, and deprived in every sort of way? Yes, but he discovered at the right time the divine secret in his feeble heart, just as he discovered the eternal wisdom of God and thus found the path of glory along which he walked and suffered in a manner worthy of Man, the creature of Almighty God. For this reason he hardly pitied her and again he asked, “What have I done with myself?”
What indeed was the meaning of married life without real love, a spiritual bond, the promise of posterity, or even mere human companionship? Then he addressed this warning to himself: “Take it easy! Don’t let your sorrows get the better of you. You are not as strong as you used to be. There’s been a new change, soft as a breeze, but cunning as a fox: it has to do with age, with the passage of time…”
He thought for a little while and then added: “It is Time we must thank for every achievement, and Time we must blame for every loss…And nought abideth save the face of the Almighty One.”