The Cheapest Nights Read online

  It was simply that the people regarded the Freak with a special awe which had none of that reverence tinged with irony they reserved for idiots and half-wits. Nor did they feel for him that pity mixed with revulsion which they had for cripples. Perhaps it was the awe inspired by those extraordinary phenomena that reveal the tremendous order of the universe.

  When he came upon a gathering, talk continued as usual and no one made him feel his presence was noticed. And when his long stations in one place tempted the children to gather around him and stare, they were reproved and chased all the way back into their warrens, and the punishment for tormenting him was such that they knew better than to try again.

  For long years the Freak had lived in our town in this fashion, absolved from every obligation, human or animal. He could go where he liked, do what he pleased, no one molested him. People allowed him to enter their houses and stay crouching in one of its corners for as long as he wished without his presence disturbing anyone, quite as if he were one of the fixtures. Women undressed before him and so did the men. Private affairs were discussed in his presence, and men made love to their wives or other people’s under his eye. Conspiracies were planned and false accusations plotted while he looked on. Anyone hesitating about speaking his mind or divulging a secret was quickly assured, “You may speak without fear, there’s only you and I and the Freak.”

  * * *

  —

  Nevertheless, every few years a rumor would spread concerning him. They said there was something between him and Hobble-Foot Na‘asa, for she had often been seen to seek him by night. She was often seen, also by night, leaving the vacant lot by the mosque where he slept. Surely they were lovers. Another rumor had it he was the illegitimate child she bore by a man of degenerate blood from the central town where she used to go at dawn selling cheese and milk and loads of wood.

  Both rumors were found to be far-fetched as Na‘asa hardly counted as a female. She was hard, and flat, and bony, like a man. If she got involved in a brawl she was sure to emerge without a scratch, leaving behind several wounded men to her credit.

  She had been widowed when still very young and had had to struggle for her living ever since, doing the ordinary jobs allotted to women. But she was more like a man in disposition, which is perhaps why she did not remarry and why she fell to doing the work for which her muscular build adapted her. She carried loads of wood and hay and meal. Her only equipment was a thick round disk, which she had sewn for herself from old rags, which formed a rest she placed on her head, and on that she could sit a camel’s load. She walked erect, striding powerfully, her feet beating the ground, her anklets, perhaps the only indication of her femininity, clinking as they knocked against each other. Except that being so used to loads, when she walked without them, she was bound to lose her balance and skip along like a grasshopper, now with the gait of a female, now with the stomp of a male, which made people nickname her Hobble-Foot. The men out of jealousy, the women in contempt. Both were unfair. A woman so unfeminine could hardly be connected with a love affair, nor was it conceivable that she could mother a child, even if it were only a monster like the Freak.

  But rumor was strong in spite of that. After she gave birth, they said, she hid him in that same vacant lot where he lodged now, feeding him on the quiet, letting him out only when he grew. One year when there was much talk about lewd women, the story went that the starved and the lustful from the edge of town went to him for solace, confident of his silence, knowing his tongue would never wag. Another story alleged he was born of an ape. A woman, weary of her sterility, had gone to a gypsy who prescribed the wool remedy. As bad luck would have it the rag happened to contain the sperm of an ape which made her conceive and give birth to the Freak. Horrified at the sight of the creature the woman gave him to the gypsy with money to keep her mouth shut and bring him up. The gypsy took him away with her on her many wanderings and, returning after he had grown, abandoned him just outside the town.

  The following year another story went around insinuating that the Freak was only the son of Abdou El Bitar who went around shaving donkeys and trimming their hooves and who, it was said, and God only knew, had a predilection for the females of the species. Sheikh El Beledi’s in particular, and that it was the latter who got rid of the newborn infant for fear of its being foisted on him, or possibly his son who, they say, was also given to the same vice.

  Rumors and stories, remote, sly, inconsistent, but continuous, proved the people’s determination to uncover the truth.

  He could have gone on living like that in our town forever, being and not being, existing and not existing, if one night one of the El Abayda boys hadn’t come running in a fright. He threw himself down, panting and trembling all over, before the crowd which usually sat up at night in the lane near the mill.

  “What’s come over you?”

  “Well, what do you think, folks? It’s the Freak. He can speak as good as you and I put together,” he said, stuttering like all the rest of his family.

  “It can’t be, boy, how do you know?”

  He swore on his father’s grave that he had been passing by the vacant lot when he heard two people talking in low voices. He drew nearer and discovered it was Hobble-Foot Na‘asa talking to the Freak who was answering in a perfectly normal voice, every word perfectly clear. He couldn’t believe his ears and he drew nearer still, but when Na‘asa saw him she barked at him and he ran away in terror to come and tell them.

  No one believed him. They all agreed the boy was ranting. The vacant lot had terrified him for some reason and his imagination was playing tricks on him. Very likely it was the djinn he had heard talking. That was easier to believe than that the Freak could speak. Was it possible he had fooled them all those years, and what did he stand to gain by that? Tormenting himself standing motionless for long hours, sleeping like an animal, living like vermin.

  Yet, in spite of their powerful arguments and their absolute refusal to believe what the boy had said, doubt began to set in. There was a hint of distrust in their look now when they saw him hanging around his usual haunts. What if it were true? What if all along the Freak could see and hear and understand? It was a frightful thought. All those years he had been looked upon as a nonexistent being. He had been allowed to see and hear what no other had seen or heard because he did not count. Something like a domestic animal. A cat or a dog. If household pets were to speak of the things they hear and see few people could go on living. For a man to live as an individual he needs clothing to protect his body and cover his secrets. And in order to exist in a group he must hedge in a portion of himself. That portion where his secret being lies, which sets him apart from others and makes him independent. Just like a family needs the solid walls of a house to preserve its entity, and a town needs a boundary to protect itself from disintegration.

  If the news were true, it would be a disaster. It might not yet mean the crumbling of the protecting walls, but it would be the start of a fissure from which all that is contained within would leak outside and then all hell would break loose.

  From now on the Freak came to be regarded with fear and suspicion while he remained unchanged, his neck bent and twisted, his blue gallabieh dirty and in rags. Sitting or standing he still remained motionless with one eye still shut, the other half open, his face an expressionless mask. Even when suspicion drove the people to hover around him, probing, questioning, trying to pierce his enigmatic exterior, not a nerve twitched, not a muscle moved in that solid mass of flesh.

  It was some time before the scare which the news had raised began to calm down. The wave of fear that swept them at the thought that a prying eye had reached into the hidden corners was slowly subsiding, and whatever misgivings there were began to melt away.

  The incident could well have been forgotten like the rumors, had not another one occurred which was reported this time not by a frightened boy but by grown men who swore to what the
y had seen.

  It was there, at El Sa‘adani’s shed tucked under the bridge where he brewed tea and coffee for those who stopped by, that it happened. They were all still discussing the story told by the El Abayda boy. The Freak had chosen to plant himself in a spot of sunshine on top of the bridge, and his face was pouring with sweat. Their talk, sly and full of malice, had come around to Hobble-Foot Na‘asa, reporting hearsay and mere rumors as facts, each trying to outdo the other for a sensation until one of them swore she had seduced him. All of a sudden a piercing cry cut through the air; something between a bellow and a roar followed by a deep moan. Even more strange was the voice crying “God forbid” according to some, “or God damn you!” according to others. What they all agreed upon was that it was a human voice distinctly coming from somewhere in their vicinity. When they turned to look for its source, they saw the Freak walking in a hurry, leaving his place in the sun and disappearing quickly into the maize field. A day or two later, even though they all agreed that what they saw and heard was beyond doubt, if questioned further they now wouldn’t swear. “God only knows,” they would say, “but if it wasn’t him who could it be? The bridge?”

  The town was agog with controversy, a large part of it insisting they had been duped by the Freak. All those years he had been shamming in order to be in on their secrets and to pry into their private affairs. The rest of them stuck to their conviction that the bridge was more likely to speak than that the Freak should utter a human sound.

  However, their polemics were only on the surface, for in their hearts clouds of fear were massing. When they reviewed the things they had allowed the Freak to witness their fear turned to horror. They started to comb the town searching for him in the hope that the sight of his monstrous form might calm their fears and confirm their belief that he had no link with humanity. But the Freak was nowhere to be found, which only increased their apprehension. For where could he be, and who could he be talking to?

  It was not long before he appeared again, one day, returning from the central town. Na‘asa was leading him by the hand. No sooner had news of his return spread than the entire village went out to meet him. The women especially, a huge black lump stuck on the compact block of human beings which had formed around him and Na‘asa, were in a towering rage, largely induced by fear. They looked at the pair with eyes darting fire. Nothing had changed in the Freak. The same blue shapeless garment, the same bristling hair. Perhaps his slanting neck was a little less slanting. But the strange thing was the snigger with which he answered when he was addressed. A snigger nearer to speech than to a chuckle.

  For a long time Na‘asa would not speak, eyeing the crowd in silence. Then suddenly, unable to contain herself any longer, she burst into a volley of abuse, asking why they were collected there, cursing the lot from the oldest to the youngest.

  “All right, you filthy lot of bastards. What do you want? What business is it of yours whether or not he is my son? Whether or not he is dumb? What do you want with him? All right, so he was sick and I took care of him, is that a crime? Or supposing even he never was sick, that all the time he heard and he saw, what are you afraid of? None of you is any less rotten than his neighbor. Get out of my way, I tell you, or by God I swear if I lay my hands on one of you, I won’t let go until I’ve choked the life out of him.”

  They stood listening in amazement, tongue-tied before that sudden outburst. She had ripped off every vestige of shame, was willing to admit the Freak was her son, was ready to reveal his father’s name if she had to, while they all stood about speechless, unable to withstand the torrent that was tumbling about their ears.

  But sooner or later they were bound to disperse. Sooner or later the morrow had to come. The Freak began to roam about again, stopping here and there where he was wont to stop. Only now wherever he appeared conversation stood still if only for a moment and all eyes would be on him. They were met with the new snigger which only rekindled their fears. What was the wretch sniggering about? Could it be about the measure of wheat stolen from the threshing floor while he had stood looking on? Or because he knew the secret of the bloodstain clinging to the hem of the gallabieh, or about yesterday’s cant in the presence of other company?

  When the next day came, and the next one, and the next, it became clear that their worst fears were confirmed. The Freak’s idiotic snigger was the fissure in the inner walls through which all that lay hidden threatened to run out. They realized that in his presence they were stripped of all covering. They realized they could not live in the shadow of one before whom they were naked to the bone, taunted by his evil laugh everywhere they went.

  So it was inevitable for the people to wake up horrified one morning to the sound of a long screaming howl torn from the depths of an anguished heart. “Oh, my son! Oh, my beloved!” it wailed again and again. They all rushed out in its direction. It was coming from the vacant lot. There, they found Na‘asa. When she saw them come near she started to hurl stones at them. She cursed and wept bitterly, saying he had always been deaf and dumb, warning them savagely of her revenge. At her feet lay the Freak in a pool of blood, his head bashed in by a stone.

  Notes

  THE CHEAPEST NIGHTS

  1. Master of a trade.

  YOU ARE EVERYTHING TO ME

  1. Friday is the Muslim day of rest.

  2. The small Bairam is the three-day feast following the month of Ramadan.

  3. A verse from the Koran.

  4. Opening chapter of the Koran.

  5. Title given to a person who has been on a pilgrimage to Mecca. It is the feminine form of “Hagg.”

  6. Ceremony for casting out devils.

  THE ERRAND

  1. Granddaughter of the Prophet.

  2. Headman.

  3. Religious exercise where men stand in a ring chanting the name of God.

  THE QUEUE

  1. Well-known collection of the Prophet’s sayings.

  2. Latticed woodwork.

  THE FUNERAL CEREMONY

  1. Direction of Mecca toward which Muslims turn their faces in prayer.

  2. Uncle. A respectful form of address to an elderly person.

  ALL ON A SUMMER’S NIGHT

  1. Black silk covering worn by many women.

  THE CALLER IN THE NIGHT

  1. Attempts at pronouncing the names of the original drugs.

  DID YOU HAVE TO TURN ON THE LIGHT, LI-LI?

  1. According to religious law any wandering of the eyes, of the mind, or any coughing or irregular motion will annul the prayer and the worshipper must begin again.

  BRINGING IN THE BRIDE

  1. Bean rissoles.

  THE SHAME

  1. One oke is equivalent to approximately 1¼ kilograms.

  2. A game of drafts where pebbles are used for pieces and the ground serves for a board.

  3. A respectful form of address to married women in rural society, the name being derived from the name of the person’s son. This Coptic woman has a son called George, therefore she is addressed as Om George: mother of George.

  4. A washer- or tirewoman whose profession is to help women with their toilet, particularly the decking-out of brides on their wedding day.

  5. Father of George.

  BECAUSE THE DAY OF JUDGMENT NEVER COMES

  1. Borham is a diminutive for Ibrahim.

  2. Pre-Islamic hero renowned for his courage.

  THE FREAK

  1. Feminine for Sheikh.

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