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

natural?’
    â€˜What does natural mean?’
    He heard laughter again. He looked around in surprise. He could not understand why people kept laughing. It occurred to him that they might be laughing about something which had nothing to do with him.
    The voice resumed its questioning. ‘On that Friday, why did you stay in the fields instead of going to the mosque for prayer like all the men of the village?’
    â€˜I’ve stopped praying since Nefissa left.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Nefissa used to look after the buffalo while I went to pray.’
    â€˜Did you not know that, unlike the other men in the village, Elwau did not go to the mosque on Fridays?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Did you or did you not know?’
    â€˜I knew. Everybody knew that Elwau did not go to the mosque.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜I don’t know why. People say that his mother’s grandfather was a Copt, but Allah alone knows the reason.’
    The voice asked insinuatingly, ‘Did you dislike Elwau?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Was it not your conviction that a man like him should have carried out the religious rites which Allah has ordained?’
    Kafrawi said, ‘Elwau was a good man.’
    â€˜Do you not know that prayer is a protection against sin?’
    â€˜Yes, that’s what Sheikh Hamzawi used to say to us.’
    â€˜So Elwau assaulted your daughter and committed a grievous sin.’
    â€˜That’s what was said.’
    â€˜And after all that happened, you insist you didn’t think of killing him?’
    â€˜No, I didn’t.’
    â€˜Why did you not think of killing him?’ ‘Elwau was a good man,’ Kafrawi repeated.
    The voice came back, insistent. ‘Don’t you care about honour? Don’t you care about your honour and that of your family?’
    Kafrawi was silent for a moment and then replied, ‘Yes, I do.’
    The voice said with a note of triumph barely veiled, ‘That’s why you killed Elwau.’
    â€˜But I did not kill him.’
    The voice was very angry again. ‘Then why were you found near the body?’
    Kafrawi was silent, trying to remember, but his memory failed him. He said nothing.
    The voice still sounded angry. ‘Why did you run away and try to escape?’
    â€˜I was afraid of the dog.’
    â€˜Do you know why the dog picked you out from all the men in the village?’
    â€˜No. It’s the dog who knows.’
    He heard laughter in the room and looked around in great surprise. Why were people laughing again?
    The voice was furious this time. ‘Don’t try to deceive me. You had better confess. Do you know what’s awaiting you?’
    â€˜No,’ he said.
    Laughter echoed in his ears once more. His eyes expressed a puzzled amazement. After a moment he felt the steely fingers close round his arm as they led him away into a long, dark passage. He closed his eyes and muttered, ‘I do testify that there is no God but Allah.’

IX
    Zakeya still sat on the dusty threshold with Zeinab by her side. Both of them were plunged in silence, and their eyes continued to watch the lane with an expression of angry defiance. In front of them there still rose the huge door with its iron bars. It seemed to stand there blocking the way, shutting out the bank of the river and the water which flowed beside it. From time to time the Mayor walked out, tall, broad-shouldered, surrounded by men on all sides. He walked ahead of them with his slow steady stride. In his eyes was the haughty, blue look which he raised to the skies. He never bent his head to look at the ground over which he walked, nor noticed Zakeya and Zeinab sitting on the dusty threshold of their house, thinking over something in silence, their eyes staring in front of them steadily.
    Zakeya’s hands rested on her lap, over her wide, black galabeya . They were big, and the skin on them was coarse and cracked. In her palm lay