The
Train
By:
Aadel M Al-Mahdy
Thoughts
chased each other so fast in his mind ─ Goddamn those customs and traditions. They are
nothing but a rotten yield of unhealthy past; arrogance and pride. Goddamn the
corrupt upbringing of my brother Ghayeth. He has turned my life into misery. He
lived the silky side of life; a womanizer until he was shot-dead. Blood-feud
has now become unavoidable. Ah, blood-feud; a feeling that keeps wavering back
and forth in the chest of an Upper-Egyptian and never rests until revenge is
attained no matter how many years have lapsed and generations been born.
Here
it is; a letter from his father instructing me to immediately come home whatever
the circumstances are to carry out his duty. He is the eldest son, therefore, he
must seek revenge for his brother’ death. Thus, the perverted customs dictate, or
else he will live in eternal shame.
He held his head in his hands and squeezed on his temples to stop his mind from
thinking, but his efforts doomed to failure ─ Hasn’t my brother gotten what he
deserved? I have frequently warned him not to bother Rashidah, the daughter of
Abu-Swailam, but he did not listen. He would not lust after nobody else but
her. And my father, yes, whenever my brother’s erotic adventures tickled his
hearing, he would, eh, damn, Gayeth was the youngest and my father’s favorite
son. Honest to God, I found nothing in Gayeth but moral depravity, dissolution,
and obtuseness. But my father always discriminated between boys and girls. Girls
were the family’s untouchable pride and honor, and there would be no harm if
boys matured a bit earlier. My brother matured earlier all right. And Hamdan,
Rishidah’s husband, lay in wait in a sugar-cane field and shot Gayeth then went
home and killed his wife. For giving me a chance to avenge my brother’s death,
the police had been intentionally misled. They never knew who the killer was though
I knew while I was still Cairo ─
Now, obliged to perform a cultural duty, here he is in Cairo train station waiting for the train
that goes to Upper-Egypt.
No
one will mistaken the station by anything else; the baskets, the boxes, the
luggage; all scattered around in indescribable chaos and the very long train
that arrives in after it has traveled a very long distance to finally stop
gasping for breathes and blow its horn; a complaint of injustice done to it by the
sons of Adam and Eve whom it boards in its abdominal cavity and carries on its
back along with their luggage.
He
turned his face away to distract his mind by a different view as his thoughts
were nothing but a torture. The cold drink vendors filled the station with
their voices and their knocking on the bottles by metal openers. A family sat
on the Train-Track curb having their dinner while their belongings heaped up
beside them. On
his left hand, his eyes caught a rich man with a big turban on his head. He had
a shining soft face and on his chest a long catena glittered. Attached to a
leather wallet pregnant with banknotes, the other end of the chain hid in the
left side of his chest causing a bulge. He smiled as he saw, close to the rich
man, who seemed to have just sold his cotton crop, two pick-pockets planning
how to hunt this fat goose and how to severe his wallet’s metallic umbilical
cord. A
man sat reclining to his basket; his bare feet hanging down the train track. He
snored so loudly that his waxed and twined ends of his mustache wiggled
rhythmically. Beside him, an eighteen-year old lad, wearing his lined
Upper-Egyptian traditional garb, stood holding a thick club in his hand as
if he were a watch-dog on duty. People were hither and thither; men and women,
sitting or standing, or snoozing.
He
managed to walk through the crowd searching for a remote empty seat but his
mind was still roaming ─ Damn you Gayeth! And vengeance, too! And damn the law!
It does not quench the thirst. So full of loops the criminal law is that a
second-year law student can manipulate it as easily as a sharp knife cutting
through a bar of butter. But families exaggerate their vengeance. Thus killing
begets nothing but killing; a vicious circle. Hasn’t Gayeth gotten what he
deserves for lusting after Rashidah and hurting her husband’s honor? ─ His
eyes caught sight of a bench and a man sitting on it by himself. He sat a bit
far from him. Tears rolling down the man’s cheeks moved his curiosity. The man was
weeping. He wondered if the man was burdened by blood-feud, too. The man seemed
to be in his thirties; hansoms in spite of signs showing his strive and
struggle with life. “Why
is he crying? He whispered to himself as the man's moaning has almost burnt his face. The man was looking at him with
eyes full of misery ─ "Does he want to talk to me? Come on, open up, brother.
Birds of a feather flock together” he whispered to himself again.
“Doubt, It is
doubt, sir, which made me loose my mind” The man said as if he has read his
thought. “What
are you talking about? What doubt are you talking about?” He asked. “The severest kind. Let me tell you something
that happened to me” the man said and then after a short pause, he whispered, “I
have to tell someone. Let it be you, sir. Do you think my kids are mine or
Afifi’s? Please, let me tell you my story of doubts, my wife’s cheating with my
closest friend. God, what a whirl causing my head to spin! Will you hear me
out, sir? What! Did you say you will? Thank you”. But
suddenly, the crowd’s noise grew louder and people started to move in every
direction. The Upper-Egyptian train has arrived; smokes coming out of its
chimney in hot and quick blasts like breaths coming out of a wounded beast and
steam clouds were breathed out on both sides of the locomotive engine thus
filling the place with thick fogs. Squeaking and screeching heightened as the
enormous piston-rod stopped slamming the wheels. Compartments slightly ran into each
other, and then the train came to a full stop, panting like a buffalo chased by
a predator on a hot summer day.
Swallowed
up in the crowd, he found him self fighting his way through like a worrier in
one of the ancient battles. Finally, he sat on a window seat. Baskets and
luggage were flung in and out. A piece of luggage hit his nose. “Oh,
God, it is so painful” he whispered, his eyes shining with tears. A man with a
sarcastic smile on his face looked at him while he was shaking the dust off of his
cloth. Unconsciously, his hand plunged into his pocket searching for the train
ticket. The noise abated as the station became devoid of people save for the
cold-drink vendors. He looked out the window. There on the bench, he was still
sitting; misery depicted on his face. His mind roamed again ─ I almost forgot
him. What a cheating wife; women in Cairo and Upper Egypt. Are they all Rahshidah? Oh, no, of course
not. It is men, too. Damn you, Gayeth! Damn you Afifi! Hamdan should not be
blamed for doubting his relation to his kids. Do I still have to kill him
because of a whole bunch of old customs and traditions? Damn!
The
train’s engineer blew the horn. It wailed like a loving mother who lost her
child. He looked at him again. He was still there, his eyes were so sad ─ No,
no! I will not kill you, Hamdan. Let someone else do it. Not me ─ he thought
and then jumped to his feet; a muffled scream coming out of his mouth. People
looked suspiciously at him.
The
train started to move leaving behind black clouds of smoke. On the other side
of the train track, he found himself standing watching the train’s
departure. And before leaving the station, he looked again across the track but
he found the bench empty.
The
End
