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

Author:Nawal El Saadawi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zed Books
Published: 2015-09-05T04:00:00+00:00

Fouada found her body stretched out on her bed with her eyes fixed on the ceiling, on a small, jagged patch where the white paint had flaked off to reveal the cement beneath. Her feet were sore from so much walking around the streets off Tahrir Square. She didn’t really know why she had walked, but it was as if she were searching for something. Perhaps she was searching for Farid amongst the people she encountered, because she stared into men’s faces and examined the heads of people who passed by in cars or taxis; or perhaps it was an empty apartment she was looking for, because here and there she would pause in front of a new building and stare confusedly at the caretaker.

But now she was staring at a jagged patch of ceiling, not thinking of anything in particular. Hearing the sound of her mother shuffling towards her room, she quickly pulled up the cover and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She heard her mother’s panting breath and knew that she was standing at the doorway watching her sleep. Fouada tried to keep still and to let her chest rise and fall with regular, deep breathing. Then her mother’s footstep shuffled away from her room. She might have opened her eyes and resumed staring at the ceiling, but she felt relaxed with her eyes closed and thought she might sleep. But then she leaped out of bed, for an idea had struck her. She wrapped herself in a large overcoat and made for the door of her room but then hesitated, walked to the telephone and dialled the five numbers. The ringing was sharp, shrill and uninterrupted. Replacing the receiver, she hurriedly left the house.

She walked rapidly, her feet taking her from street to street. She jumped on to a bus whose number she recognized, got off at a stop she knew only too well and turned right into a small street, knowing that at the end of it was a white three-storey house with a small wooden door.

The dark-skinned caretaker was sitting on his bench at the entrance to the stairs. She was just about to ask after Farid when she caught that inquisitive glance common to all caretakers. He knew her, had seen her time and again going up to Farid’s apartment, but each and every time he gave her the same searching look, as if not recognizing the relationship that existed between herself and Farid. She bounded up the stairs, then stood panting in front of the dark-brown, wooden door. The kitchen window overlooking the stairs was open. So Farid was in, hadn’t had an accident as she had imagined, hadn’t been carried away by the sky. Her heart beat painfully and she considered leaving quickly before he saw her. He had missed their date on purpose, not by accident, and had not telephoned her to explain why. She would have turned on her heel and left except that she saw no light behind the glass peep-window.

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