A young lad like you in the
flower of his youth spending seven years in the land of hanky-panky and you say
you don’t know.’
I was silent and Wad Rayyes said, ‘This tribe of yours isn’t
any good. You’re one-woman men. The only real man among you is Abdul Karim. Now
there’s a man for you.’
We were in fact known in the village for not divorcing our wives
and for not having more than one. The villagers used to joke about us and say
that we were afraid of our women, except for my uncle Abdul Karim who was both
much divorced and much married — and an adulterer to boot.
‘The infidel women aren’t so knowledgeable about this
business as our village girls,’ said Bint Majzoub. ‘They’re uncircumcized and
treat the whole business like having a drink of water. The village girl gets
herself rubbed all over with oil and perfumed and puts on a silky night-wrap,
and when she lies down on the red mat after the evening prayer and opens her
thighs, a man feels like he’s Abu Zeid El-Hila1i. The man who’s not interested
perks up and gets interested.’
My grandfather laughed and so did Bakri. ‘Enough of you and
your local girls,’ said Wad Rayyes. ‘The women abroad, they’re the ones all right.’
‘Your brain’s abroad,’ said Bint Majzoub.
‘Wad Rayyes likes uncircumcised women,’ said my grand-
father.
‘I swear to you, Hajj Ahmed,’ said Wad Rayyes, ‘that if you’d
had a taste of the women of Abyssinia and Nigeria you’d throw away your string
of prayer-beads and give up praying — the thing between their thighs is like an
upturned dish, all there for good or bad. We here lop it off and leave it like
a piece of land that’s been stripped bare.’
‘Circumcision is one of the conditions of Islam,’ said Bakri.
‘What Islam are you talking about?’ asked Wad Rayyes. ‘It’s
your Islam and Hajj Ahmed’s Islam, because you can’t tell what’s good for you
from what’s bad. The Nigerians, the Egyptians, and the Arabs of Syria, aren’t
they Moslems like us? But they’re people who know what’s what and leave their
women as God created them. As for us, we dock them like you do animals.’
My grandfather laughed so hard that three beads from his
string slipped by together without his realizing. ‘As for Egyptian women, the
likes of you aren’t up to them,’ he said.
‘And what do you know of Egyptian women?’ Wad Rayyes said to
him. Replying for my grandfather, Bakri said, ‘Have you forgotten that Hajj
Ahmed traveled to Egypt in the year six * and stayed there for nine months?’
“I walked there,’ said my grandfather, ‘with nothing but my
string of prayer-beads and my ewer.’
‘And what did you do?’ said Wad Rayyes. ‘Return as you went,
with your string of beads and your ewer? I swear to you that if I’d been in
your place I wouldn’t have come back empty-handed.’
‘I believe you’d have come back with a woman,’ said my
grandfather. ‘That’s all you worry about. I returned with money with which to
buy land, repair the water-wheel, and circumcise my sons.’
‘Good God, Hajj Ahmed, didn’t you taste a bit of the Egyptian
stuff?’ said Wad Rayyes.
The prayer-beads were slipping through my grandfather’s
fingers all this time, up and down like a water-wheel. The movement suddenly
ceased and my grandfather raised his face to the ceiling and opened his mouth,
but Bakri beat him to it and said, ‘Wad Rayyes, you’re mad. You’re old in years
but you’ve got no sense. Women are women whether they’re in Egypt, the Sudan, Iraq
or the land of Mumbo-jumbo. The black, the white, and the red — they’re all one
and the same.’
So great was his astonishment that Wad Rayyes was unable to
say anything. He looked at Bint Majzoub as though appealing to her for help.
‘In God’s truth, I almost got married in Egypt,’ said my grandfather. ‘The
Egyptians are good, God-fearing people, and the Egyptian woman knows how to
respect a man. I got to
flower of his youth spending seven years in the land of hanky-panky and you say
you don’t know.’
I was silent and Wad Rayyes said, ‘This tribe of yours isn’t
any good. You’re one-woman men. The only real man among you is Abdul Karim. Now
there’s a man for you.’
We were in fact known in the village for not divorcing our wives
and for not having more than one. The villagers used to joke about us and say
that we were afraid of our women, except for my uncle Abdul Karim who was both
much divorced and much married — and an adulterer to boot.
‘The infidel women aren’t so knowledgeable about this
business as our village girls,’ said Bint Majzoub. ‘They’re uncircumcized and
treat the whole business like having a drink of water. The village girl gets
herself rubbed all over with oil and perfumed and puts on a silky night-wrap,
and when she lies down on the red mat after the evening prayer and opens her
thighs, a man feels like he’s Abu Zeid El-Hila1i. The man who’s not interested
perks up and gets interested.’
My grandfather laughed and so did Bakri. ‘Enough of you and
your local girls,’ said Wad Rayyes. ‘The women abroad, they’re the ones all right.’
‘Your brain’s abroad,’ said Bint Majzoub.
‘Wad Rayyes likes uncircumcised women,’ said my grand-
father.
‘I swear to you, Hajj Ahmed,’ said Wad Rayyes, ‘that if you’d
had a taste of the women of Abyssinia and Nigeria you’d throw away your string
of prayer-beads and give up praying — the thing between their thighs is like an
upturned dish, all there for good or bad. We here lop it off and leave it like
a piece of land that’s been stripped bare.’
‘Circumcision is one of the conditions of Islam,’ said Bakri.
‘What Islam are you talking about?’ asked Wad Rayyes. ‘It’s
your Islam and Hajj Ahmed’s Islam, because you can’t tell what’s good for you
from what’s bad. The Nigerians, the Egyptians, and the Arabs of Syria, aren’t
they Moslems like us? But they’re people who know what’s what and leave their
women as God created them. As for us, we dock them like you do animals.’
My grandfather laughed so hard that three beads from his
string slipped by together without his realizing. ‘As for Egyptian women, the
likes of you aren’t up to them,’ he said.
‘And what do you know of Egyptian women?’ Wad Rayyes said to
him. Replying for my grandfather, Bakri said, ‘Have you forgotten that Hajj
Ahmed traveled to Egypt in the year six * and stayed there for nine months?’
“I walked there,’ said my grandfather, ‘with nothing but my
string of prayer-beads and my ewer.’
‘And what did you do?’ said Wad Rayyes. ‘Return as you went,
with your string of beads and your ewer? I swear to you that if I’d been in
your place I wouldn’t have come back empty-handed.’
‘I believe you’d have come back with a woman,’ said my
grandfather. ‘That’s all you worry about. I returned with money with which to
buy land, repair the water-wheel, and circumcise my sons.’
‘Good God, Hajj Ahmed, didn’t you taste a bit of the Egyptian
stuff?’ said Wad Rayyes.
The prayer-beads were slipping through my grandfather’s
fingers all this time, up and down like a water-wheel. The movement suddenly
ceased and my grandfather raised his face to the ceiling and opened his mouth,
but Bakri beat him to it and said, ‘Wad Rayyes, you’re mad. You’re old in years
but you’ve got no sense. Women are women whether they’re in Egypt, the Sudan, Iraq
or the land of Mumbo-jumbo. The black, the white, and the red — they’re all one
and the same.’
So great was his astonishment that Wad Rayyes was unable to
say anything. He looked at Bint Majzoub as though appealing to her for help.
‘In God’s truth, I almost got married in Egypt,’ said my grandfather. ‘The
Egyptians are good, God-fearing people, and the Egyptian woman knows how to
respect a man. I got to
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