“Why are you so late, Magd al-Din?”

“Tuck me in, Zahra. Take my shoes off. Cover me over.”

20

“I’ve chosen Magd al-Din and Dimyan for al-Alamein,” said Usta Ghibriyal during the break. Everyone fell silent and looked at the floor. True, it was not their doing, but none of them had stepped forward, to move to al-Alamein. So it was only fair for Usta Ghibriyal to choose those two workers who had not yet completed one year on the job. Magd al-Din and Dimyan were sitting next to each other at the time. They had been expecting to be chosen. Magd al-Din said to himself that now Zahra had to go back to the village. As for Dimyan, he smiled, but his face still looked ashen.

“Al-Alamein, Sallum, it’s all in Egypt,” he said, pretending contentment.

There was news of the arrival of a large German force in Libya, that the Axis was regrouping its troops and had started attacking Benghazi. Thus it seemed that the desert war would not end as everyone had predicted, following Graziani’s defeat. After Usta Ghibriyal made his announcement and the break was over, everyone went back to work. Magd al-Din went over to Shahin and asked him about his son.

“He disappeared for three days,” the man told him, tears in his eyes, “then came back for one day, but then yesterday he disappeared again. I don’t know where he goes or what he’s doing to himself.”

“Did you tell him what I told you?’

“I did, and since then he’s stopped speaking to anyone.”

Earlier that week, Magd al-Din had gathered up his courage and gone upstairs to Khawaga Dimitri, who opened the door for him, surprised. Magd al-Din asked him to go with him to the café for a little while. Dimitri welcomed the idea right away, but could not hide his anxiety.

At the café Magd al-Din told him, “Nobody chooses his own religion, right, Khawaga Dimitri?”

“Right, Sheikh Magd.”

“Please pardon me if I tell you that I know Camilla’s story with Rushdi, the Muslim boy.”

Khawaga Dimitri said nothing for a long while, then asked, “And you also know the young man’s name, Sheikh Magd?”

“His father works with me,” he said and fell silent.

“Listen, Sheikh Magd,” Dimitri said abruptly, “your late brother lived with us for years and never felt that we were different. And you have lived almost two years with us — did you ever feel that we were prejudiced against Muslims?”

“No.”

“Not only that, but sometimes we pay for the mistakes of some Muslim tenants. Lula, for instance, was a Muslim, and she lied to us and brought shame upon us.”

“You’re right, Khawaga Dimitri.”

“I know that nobody chooses their religion, and I’m not surprised that my daughter has fallen in love with a Muslim boy, She is rash, and he is rash, and with a little wisdom everything can settle back in its place.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“We tried to make the girl come back to her senses, but we failed — me, her mother, and the priest. We had no choice but to send her back home to keep them away from each other for a while. The girl will lose a school year but that’s better than losing herself. She’s my daughter, Sheikh Magd. Would you agree to your daughter marrying a Christian?”

Taken by surprise at the question, Magd al-Din thought for a while then replied, “If he converted to Islam, I would have no objection.”

“And if this young man converts to Christianity, neither I nor anyone else would have an objection. Can he convert?”

“He’d be killed, Khawaga. In our religion this is apostasy.”

“Are we wrong because we don’t kill those who abandon our religion?”

They were both silent, until Dimitri finally said, “How could I beget my daughter, raise her, and then have some young man just come and take her and cut off all her relations with us? When a girl gets married, of course it deprives her of her family’s kindness, and deprives her family of her tenderness. So can you imagine if she’s married to someone from a different religion? How can anyone ask me to be deprived of my daughter forever, Sheikh Magd?”

Magd al-Din nodded, thinking how sincere Dimitri was.

“I think you understand me now,” Dimitri went on. “I don’t care if he’s Muslim or Christian. What matters is, how can my daughter, after marriage, remain my daughter? Either he converts to Christianity, or we all convert to Islam, and both are impossible options. So, there’s no alternative to agony for a while, just a little while, Sheikh Magd. Then the problem will be solved. Or do you want us all to suffer forever?”

Magd al-Din remained silent.

“Please help me. Can you?”

“I can and I will, brother Dimitri.”

“And please forgive me. I asked you to move downstairs so we could discuss our catastrophe freely, so that if we spoke loudly about religion, you would not misunderstand us, also so that the priest could come and go without embarrassment. He was embarrassed coming in and leaving, with a Muslim neighbor so close to us, a neighbor who undoubtedly knew the reason for his visits. He told me, and these were his words, ‘The neighbors might think I hate Muslims, but I am only trying to cure the girl of her rashness.’“

“And I didn’t leave the house, so I could be ready if you needed me. We’ve spent a beautiful time with you in these difficult days, brother Dimitri.”

They got up and returned home together. Khawaga Dimitri went upstairs, saying loudly to Magd al-Din, “Zahra can come upstairs any time and sit with Maryam and Yvonne, like she used to.”

What Dimitri made Camilla do was exactly what Magd al-Din had suggested to Rushdi, that they stay away from each other for some time. So now she was staying away, or had been made to stay away. It did not matter which. The main thing now was for them not to meet, so the wound would heal.

On the day following that meeting with Dimitri, Magd al-Din informed Shahin, who in turn informed his son. Magd al-Din felt this was an easy and natural end to the matter, and that the problem would resolve itself without Rushdi taking the trouble to go to Camilla’s family. There was no sense in Rushdi declaring that he would stay away as he had promised. What happened afterwards did not bode well. The boy started to leave home for extended periods. Once, Zahra went upstairs and found Yvonne crying and her mother working on the sewing machine in silence. Both the mother and her daughter tried to appear less dejected. The mother asked Zahra about her pregnancy and how Sheikh Magd was doing at work and when she was expected to give birth. All the time Yvonne would stop crying, only to begin again. So she had to go into the other room, the one in which Zahra and Magd al-Din used to live, and there her sobbing continued. Zahra asked Sitt Maryam, “Yvonne loves her sister this much and cannot bear to be separated from her?”

“She’s afraid that she won’t come back,” the mother said. I don’t know where she gets these ideas.”

Zahra noticed the mother also struggling to hold back her tears.

Once news of the German army’s arrival in Libya hit town, the railroad station was crowded again. At one point Alexandria had appeared to be empty of inhabitants; therefore the crowds were a surprise to both Magd al-Din and Zahra as they sat on the floor of the station, in the sweaty, close atmosphere. Around them everywhere sat hundreds of black-clad women and men wearing all manner of clothing. Children were everywhere, running amid people sitting on the floor and baskets, suitcases, and boxes, or crying or sleeping on their mothers’ laps. A state of melancholy permeated the whole scene but, from time to time, a long, loud laugh rose from a man or a woman somewhere. The quiet was also broken whenever a train pulled into the station. Everyone would run to it and stand in confusion, asking the railroad workers about the destination. Then everyone would get aboard. Then everyone would get off the train when they realized it was the wrong one. Because of the crowding and the commotion, it seemed that everyone was doing all these contradictory things at the same time. Earlier, Zahra had gone upstairs to bid farewell to Sitt Maryam, who appeared calm and collected. She kissed Zahra on both cheeks and wished her a safe journey and a safe delivery. Yvonne, on the other hand, could not help crying on Zahra’s bosom as she told her, “I’ll miss you very much!” For the first time Zahra realized that there was no difference between Yvonne and Camilla. Both girls were as gentle as a breeze and as delicate as invisible angels. Zahra could not prevent her tears, mixed with black kohl, from flowing down her cheeks, and she said without thinking, “Please convey my greetings to Camilla if you see her soon, or even not so soon. Please, Sitt Maryam, don’t be hard on the girl, for the sake of Jesus and Mary.”