Laziness in the Fertile Valley by Albert Cossery Page A

Imtissal believed old Hafez had taken his son from her because she was a prostitute; she didn’t understand the true reasons for his refusal. She had cursed him unto the tenth generation.
    “They sleep all the time, don’t they?” she asked.
    “They did sleep,” said Hoda. “But now they’ve all gone completely mad.”
    “Why, what’s happened?”
    “They’re threatened by a real catastrophe.”
    “A catastrophe! What is it, darling?”
    “It’s my master. Can you believe it, he wants to get married!” said Hoda.
    Imtissal burst into hysterical laughter; it shook her entire body.
    “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said. “So old Hafez wants to get married! What does Rafik think of that?”
    “He’s the most upset of all. He swears all day long. He hardly sleeps anymore; he’s waiting.”
    “What for?”
    “He’s waiting for Haga Zohra, the go-between. He wants to keep her from seeing my master. She’s the one who’s arranging the marriage.”
    Imtissal seemed to be overcome by a frantic gaiety. Her eyes shone; she clapped her hands and turned over on the bed.
    “It’s marvelous,” she said. “Then they’re awake and waiting. You can’t imagine how this delights me. I’d love to see them!”
    “It’s not very amusing for me,” said Hoda. “The whole load falls on me.”
    “I feel sorry for you, darling,” said Imtissal. “I forgot you have to bear with all their extravagances.”
    She took the comb from the night table and began to comb her hair. She had black hair, very long, that hung all the way down her back, divided into two heavy plaits. Imtissal took great care of it. She knew the power of its secret aroma to arouse desire in the inexpert bodies of her young clients. She was a prostitute endowed with an exceptional temperament. Her business didn’t tire her too much; above all, it wasn’t repugnant to her. She felt no revulsion from her contact with her young lovers. Their ignorance and timidity in their search for pleasure amused her. She had taught many of them how to make love. She was proud and maternally concerned with their progress. Rafik was the only man she had ever loved. To him she had revealed the passionate secret of her body and all the experience acquired in her business. She had believed he would always love her; thus her deception was slow to heal. Then the baby had come.
    The child slept on Hoda’s knees, his pale face lined by the reflections of the lamp. She looked at it with a bitter smile on her painted mouth. She was afraid of seeing him grow; then she wouldn’t be able to keep him in the room with her. Sometimes, when he cried, she had to hold him in her arms, while she submitted to a client’s lovemaking. One day they would have to separate, or go elsewhere and live in larger quarters. This was her sole preoccupation now.
    “Are you expecting anyone?” asked Hoda. “Tell me if I should leave.”
    “No. I’m not expecting anyone for the moment,” said Imtissal. “You can stay. Go on.”
    “What more is there to say?”
    “Tell me about Serag. Is he upset about his father’s marriage?”
    “Oh no! Serag only thinks of leaving to look for work. I’m afraid for him.”
    “Why are you afraid?”
    “I don’t know. Do you think they’re made for work?”
    “I think they’re incapable of it. There’s no danger of losing him. He’ll give up the idea soon.”
    “May God hear you!” said Hoda. “It’s given me a heavy heart.”
    “Yes,” said Imtissal. “I know them, I know what they can do. They scorn people who work. They’d rather wet their pants than unbutton their trousers — it’s too tiring.”
    “That’s Galal,” said Hoda. “He’s exactly like that.”
    “That one I don’t know,” said Imtissal. “I’ve never seen him. When I came to live here, he was already buried in sleep. He seems to be their teacher. Rafik admired him tremendously.”
    “He’s astonishing,” said Hoda. “When I watch him, all at once I want