God Dies by the Nile and Other Novels by Nawal El Saadawi Page A

sadness, fear nor hope, a face without feeling carrying an expressionless expression which says nothing at all. A face without features like the palm of a hand from which you can glean no feeling or thought, because they have been suppressed for so long that nothing is left any more, or a face made of bronze, or copper like the knocker which hangs on doors, and is used to alert people in the house that there is someone outside who wants to intrude just when they feel most cosy and warm. His body too was hard and copper-like, with arms and legs which ran or swam or walked with a steady, swinging, untiring movement, so unchanging, so enduring that it could hardly be human, hardly come from a body of flesh and blood and bone, but only from a robot with metal limbs and joints.
    Kafrawi saw him as he hid behind a tree. His body shook with a strange fear as though he had seen something which was neither man nor devil, neither live nor dead, some evil spirit which was not human despite its human form.
    He felt this fear sweep over him like a wave of icy cold water. He could no longer follow his body, understand what it was doing, know whether it was hiding behind the orange trees or threading its way between them. For tracking him down was the frightening shadow, moving at a machine-like pace neither fast nor slow, like the hands of a clock moving steadily towards the hour of execution, so that when the steely fingers closed around his arm he felt his time had come and quietly whispered, ‘Verily I do witness that there is no other God than Allah.’ Then everything went black and he could no longer hear or see anything. The dark was so stock still that it seemed as though his life had come to a sudden end, and now was the moment ordained for him to go.
    When he came to again, and began to hear and see once more, his eyes looked around him in great astonishment. He was squatting in a huge room crowded with people, and they kept throwing glances towards him. In front of him were three men sitting behind something high which looked like a table.
    One of the three men was gesturing with his hand angrily, and fixing him with his eyes, in a menacing way. He looked around again trying to understand what was happening. Suddenly he felt a pointed finger jab into his shoulder likea nail, and a thin sharp voice pierced his ear. ‘Have you not heard? Why don’t you answer?’
    Kafrawi opened his mouth and asked, ‘Is someone speaking to me?’
    The thin, sharp voice cut through the air again. ‘Yes, are you asleep? Wake up, and answer His Excellency’s questions.’
    Kafrawi could not figure out who His Excellency could be, nor could he understand where he now was. He was certainly no longer in Kafr El Teen. He could be in another village, or even in another world. He wondered how they had carried him to this place, and how he had got here.
    Suddenly he heard an angry voice say to him, ‘What’s your name?’
    He answered, ‘Kafrawi.’
    The angry voice came back at him. ‘Your age?’
    He hesitated for a moment before saying, ‘Forty or fifty.’
    He heard people laugh and could not understand why they did so.
    The angry voice resumed. ‘You are accused of having murdered Elwau and it’s better for you to admit to your crime, instead of beating about the bush.’
    â€˜Admit to what?’ he asked.
    â€˜Admit to killing Elwau.’
    â€˜I did not kill him. Elwau was a good man.’
    The voice said, ‘Did you not hear that he was the man who assaulted your daughter, Nefissa?’
    â€˜I heard them say it was Elwau.’
    â€˜After you heard that, did you not think of killing him?’
    â€˜No.’
    The voice asked, ‘Why?’
    â€˜I did not think of it.’
    â€˜Is that normal for a man whose honour has been sullied?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Kafrawi answered.
    The voice sounded very angry. ‘Is that