Umaima woke up, as usual, when there was only one star left in the sky. She called Adham until he awoke, sighing. The man got up and left his room, still slow with sleep, for the connected outer room where Qadri and Humam were sleeping, and woke them up. The hut, which had been enlarged, now looked like a little house, and was surrounded by a wall that also enclosed a backyard as a sheepfold. The wall was covered with tendrils of ivy, which gave a graceful look to its roughness and showed that Umaima had not yet given up her old dream of improving her hut as far as possible on the model of the mansion. Father and sons met in the yard around a bucket filled with water, washed their faces and put on their work clothes. The air blown into the hut bore the scent of burning wood and the sound of the younger brothers’ crying. Finally they sat down around the low table before the hut entrance, eating from a pot of stewed fava beans. The autumn air was damp and almost cold at this early hour, but blew against strong bodies capable of bearing up under its gusts. From a distance, Idris’ hut, also enlarged, was visible, and the mansion stood in its silence, looking in on itself, as if nothing bound it to this outer world. Umaima came in with a jug of fresh milk, set it on the table and sat down.
“Why don’t you sell the milk to our esteemed grandfather?” asked Qadri sarcastically.
Adham turned his head, now gray at the temples, to Qadri and told him, “Eat and be quiet. A little quiet is the most we can hope for from you.”
“It’s almost time to pickle the lemons, olives and green peppers,” said Umaima, munching a mouthful of food. “You used to love pickling days, Qadri—do you remember how you used to help stuff the lemons?”
“We were always happy when we were small, even when we had no reason,” said Qadri bitterly.
“What’s wrong with you today, Abu Zaid al-Hilali?” asked Adham, putting the jug back in its place. This was the name of a fabulous folk hero.
Qadri laughed but said nothing.
“Market day is coming,” said Humam. “We have to get the sheep ready.”
Umaima nodded. Adham turned to Qadri.
“Qadri, don’t be difficult. I can’t meet anyone who knows you without their complaining to me about you. I’m afraid you take after your uncle!”
“Or my grandfather!”
Adham’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Don’t talk that way about your grandfather. Have you ever heard me do that? And he’s never done anything to hurt you.”
“As long as he’s hurt you, he’s hurt us,” Qadri protested.
“Be quiet. Do us all a favor and be quiet.”
“Because of him, we have to live this life, the same life as Uncle Idris’ daughter.”
“What does she have to do with us?” said Adham crossly. “Her father was the root of the problem.”
“I mean, it isn’t fair for women of ours to grow up in this desert wasteland. Tell me who will marry that girl?”
“Why not the devil himself—what business is it of ours? I’m sure she’s an animal just like her father.” He glanced at his wife as if to seek her support.
“Yes, just like her father,” said Umaima.
“Damn her and her father,” spat Adham.
“This argument is ruining our meal,” said Humam.
“Don’t exaggerate,” said Umaima tenderly. “The happiest time is when we’re together.”
Suddenly Idris’ voice could be heard from afar, bellowing curses and obscenities.
“Morning prayers,” muttered Adham in disgust. He finished his breakfast and got up, then went out to his cart and began pushing it in front of him, calling out, “Take care.” “Goodbye,” they answered. He headed off toward Gamaliya. Humam got up and took a side path to the enclosure, and before long the sheep were bleating loudly and the sound of their hoofs filled the path as they streamed out. Qadri rose, took his staff and waved goodbye to his mother, then followed his brother. As they neared Idris’ hut, he blocked their way.
“What are you asking, big guy?”
Qadri gazed at Idris with real curiosity while Humam avoided looking at him, but he persisted.
“When may I expect a reply from the sons of the cucumber man?”
“Go to the market if you want to buy,” said Qadri sharply.
“What about if I decide to take one?” laughed Idris.
“Please, Father, no scandals,” called Hind from inside the house.
“Mind your business, you,” he answered her lightly. “I’m talking to the slave boys.”
“We’re not bothering you—don’t bother us,” said Humam.
“Oh, that’s Adham talking. You should be among the sheep, not behind them.”
“My father told us not to answer your bullying,” said Humam angrily.
Idris screeched with laughter. “God reward him—if it weren’t for that I’d have disgraced myself by now.” He added roughly, “You two are respectable people because of my good name. God damn you all! Get out of here!”
They went on their way, occasionally waving their staffs.
Still pale with rage, Humam spoke to Qadri. “What a bastard. That man is disgusting—even at this hour of the morning his breath stinks of liquor.”
They drove the sheep from behind out into the desert.
“He talks a lot,” said Qadri, “but he’s never harmed us.”
“He’s stolen sheep from us more than once,” argued Humam.
“He’s drunk, and unfortunately he’s our uncle, there’s no way around that.”
Silence fell as they neared the big boulder; scattered clouds filled the sky, and sunlight saturated the vast desert.
Humam could no longer contain what he wanted to say. “You’d be making a terrible mistake if you married into his family.”
Qadri’s eyes shone with anger. “Save your advice. I get all I need from Father.”
“Our life is bad enough,” continued Humam, still stung by Idris’ insults. “Don’t make it worse.”
“Who cares if it kills you all, these troubles you create yourselves,” exclaimed Qadri. “I’ll do whatever I want.”
They had reached the spot where the sheep grazed. Humam turned to his brother. “Do you think you won’t suffer the consequences of what you do?”
Qadri grabbed Humam’s shoulder and shouted, “You’re just jealous.”
Humam was shocked. He had not expected this from his brother, though on the other hand he was used to his surprises and outbursts. He removed Qadri’s hand from his shoulder and said only, “God help us.”
Qadri folded his arms on his chest and nodded derisively.
“The best thing I can do is leave you alone until you’re sorry,” said Humam. “You won’t admit you’re wrong. You won’t admit it until it’s too late.”
He turned away and walked toward the shady side of the boulder. Qadri stood sullen-faced in the blazing sun.