The Last Stop

    By Mohamad AL Mansur AL shaqha

Translation by Aisha Natto

On the fourth day after her death the sons and daughters gathered together in front of the television. They were talking incessantly. Some were watching a football match between AnNasr sports club and Al-Ahli  sports club [clubs]. It was nine o’clock pm. It had already been the twentieth minute of the first half. Alnasr was already one goal ahead, which was scored in the eighth minute.

The telephone rang and Awatef, the eldest daughter of the diseased, took the telephone receiver from her nephew who was only four years old and she began to talk to a woman who did not identify herself but she was giving consolations for her mother’s death. She was a little bit baffled by the caller’s insistence that she should know that all were present, namely Hanaan, Tawfeek, Abdal-Azeem. The order of the names was according to the order of individual age. That happened after the noon prayer. Tawfik had already postponed his trip and Hanan had already postponed her flight with her two children twenty-four hours and Amina gave her husband who had been staying with his sister, time. He had left her with her three children, sharing with her sisters in the consolation rituals even after the Friday prayer while Awatef had her own time. Ever since her mother entered the hospital she had leave [had left] from work, from her husband and from her only daughter so that she could be close to her mother, thinking about death. Abd-al Azim had been staying with the diseased for two years after he got a divorce from his wife who gave up her son. As a result, he took care of him.

The caller was a nurse in the hospital where their mother died and she knew everybody from their following up their mother’s health conditions. She said: "in appreciation of the dead woman’s will, I am here to deliver a deposit which your mother entrusted me with, asking me to deliver it to her daughter Awatef in front of everybody. I know it’s a little bit embarrassing."

After the guest had gone out, there was on the table in the middle of the room a small white box tied with a red ribbon. Awatef hesitated about opening the box but Tawfik untied the ribbon and there were in the box gold bracelets and silver rings with gems as well as a photograph of a man everybody knew and they called him uncle, ignoring his name and affinity. There was also a letter written in a messy hand writing. They knew that their mother was an illiterate woman who did not know how to write and who always troubled them with questions about an explanation of foreign films they used to watch on TV. They tried to snatch the ornaments but the letter was in Awatef’s hands together with the photograph that was folded at the edge. Everybody forgot about the letter and was busy getting ready to travel. The first one to go was Tawfik, whose destination was a foreign country. Amina rode her husband’s car together with her noisy children. She was in a hurry. Awatef arranged her trip with Hanan’s.

At the airport after Hanan had taken off, she felt lonely remembering the last days of her mother in combatting with death and she imagined her father who passed away ten years ago in a car accident during a business visit of his village in the farthest south, following up the construction works of the family house in a part of an agricultural land, which he managed to possess after a fight with some members and some seniors of his group.

The announcer said that the journey would be delayed due to the weather conditions. In her last stop she hesitated about leaving the plane. However, she adjusted the position of the back of the seat and fell asleep. She saw her mother in her dream asking her about her share of the ornaments. She said: "My brothers, snatching the box, left nothing". She awoke remembering the box. As a result, she got up, opened the bag’s drawer that was just above her seat. She took out the box, and stared at the photograph. She knew the man who was living in the basement of a building next door to the family house. He suffered from ill health. Her father had pity on him and followed up his health conditions and her mother washed his clothes and used to give him some portion of the meals. The nurse said: "The letter was dictated by the sick woman. The letter was two pages long, a school notebook size written in a disorderly manner with some letters missing.

Dear sons and daughters: your father, God have mercy upon him, was good to me and was particularly interested in establishing good relations with me in the beginning. I was deluded into believing that I was dear to him, but time showed me that he was a spiteful man who wanted to destroy those around him, especially his group and family. I did not believe my father who said he wanted to marry [off] me to Saeed who knew that the head of our village had detained me for his son Saleh, as mother said. Saleh was an obedient son to his father; in fact, he was his right hand. Then one day he became mad after he fell into a well in our farm and all his father’s attempts to save him from dumbness and epilepsy were in vain. It was thought that a fairy had entered his body.

After six months, Saeed came and I married him and the relations between my father and our group broke. I traveled with my husband to his work place as a policeman. He worked as a doorman at a Shariah court. I used to work as a maid in the house of the court chief. I was laughed at for my accent and the women made fun of me, but I put up with it for the sake of Saeed who was planning to buy a better and larger house than the one we rented. It took quite a long time for me to get pregnant, which made Saeed worried. He complained to the judge who gave him some papers on which some Qura’nic verses and religious prayers were written in saffron water in the hope that I would get pregnant. It so happened that I got pregnant in the judge’s house, which made it difficult for me to work. Therefore, the judge’s wife, I felt, hated me and her mother said that I was good for nothing. Consequently, I ceased to associate with people until I gave birth. Then my mother came together with the village head and his sick son. Saleh entered hospital and when he had come out Saeed took care of him. To have an easy access to the hospital he rented a room for him in our street and so the village head sent money, grain and fruit to his son via Saeed. The patient spent his time in our house and I helped Saeed to take care of him: I washed his clothes and gave him some food to eat. I knew he was happy and used to be cheerful when he saw me. Saeed noticed this behavior of the patient and, as a result, he took advantage of the situation and prevented the patient from seeing me. Therefore, he got mad and ran about in the streets and the police caught him and brought him back to the hospital. His father came and Saeed got him out of the hospital and took upon himself to take care of him and, as a result, he demanded more money. Saeed’s plan was to deprive his brothers of their portion of the Ad Deera Farm and the village was a witness in [on] his side.

Saleh got more diseased and so he got weaker: he got thinner: his hair and beard got longer. One day while he was in the bath he fainted. I heard him fall on the floor. There was no one in the house. So I entered and carried him. He lay in the sitting room opening his eyes. I felt that he was going to say something. I cut his hair and trimmed his beard. He began to cry kissing my hand. I felt something touching me. Something hot ran into my veins. I wiped his tears for him and gave him something to eat. He would not eat, so I put some mouthfuls in his mouth. He laughed like a child and he gave me something to eat. When he went out he said good-bye, putting his hand on my head.

Saeed noticed the change but he kept silent. He had already set up a grocery store and his real estate office took all his time. He was planning to build a house in the village farm. I knew that Saleh loved me and I agreed that he should be my husband; he knew my secrets and consoled me. In the morning, I gave him breakfast and we chatted watching TV serials and I used to sleep with him on some days. In the afternoon, he went to the mosque and spread a small carpet in front of his room and sat on it until supper and then he entered the house. In the morning when Saeed got out, he knocked on the door.

He is your real father with whom I felt secure, and I remembered the time I was with my family in the stone house. I also remembered the wheat, the reeds; the cows ploughing the earth, how we watered the green; I also remembered the water-skin. When Saeed died, I took more care. Then his sister, who was only childless two years ago, came and took him to the village after her husband’s death. At first, I showed objection. He was silent but he cried and muttered some words. He did not have epilepsy and did not run about the streets, as was his habit when he was angry. He gave me the ornaments and the picture the day he traveled. Awatef was aware of a movement inside the plane: the passengers were returning and the hostesses were doing their jobs. She waited a little until the plane took off. She started gazing at the photograph. The hostess, giving her a glass of water, said: is he your husband? She shook her head in the affirmative.