about you, but not this time.â
âI wonder whatâs behind it all?â asked Muhammad Bahgat.
âTheyâre all dangerous young men,â Zayn al-âAbidin âAbdallah chimed in. âWhyâs everyone so surprised at whatâs happened to them?â
âBut theyâre children of this revolution!â
âThere are lots of people opposed to the goals of this revolution who claim to be a part of it,â Zayn al-âAbidin replied with a laugh. âWhen I was a boy and was heading for the red-light district, I told people I was going to the mosque.â
âMay God forgive these people,â said Taha al-Gharib. âThey certainly know how to scare folk, donât they?â
A few days after this conversation had taken place, Qurunfula came over and took a seat beside me. She was looking utterly miserable. âTell me what it all means,â she asked anxiously.
I understood full well what she meant, but I pretended not to follow her.
âSomeone around here is passing on secret information!â
âCould well be,â I muttered.
âRubbish!â she yelled. âItâs completely obvious. Everyoneâs talking. The question is, whoâs passing it all on?â
I paused for a moment. âYou know the place better than I,â I said.
âI have no suspicions about my employees,â she said. â âArif Sulayman is indebted to me for his very life, and Imam al-Fawwal is a man of faith, so is Gumâa.â¦â
âHow about those old men sitting there on the sidelines?â
With that we stared at each other for quite a while. âNo!â she said. âZayn al-âAbidin may be a wretch, but he has nothing to do with the authorities. In any case, heâs so corrupt himself, heâs scared to death of them.â
âThere are scores of people who come in here every day,â I pointed out, âbut we never pay the slightest attention to them.â
She sighed. âNothing in the world is safe any longer.â
That said, the same grief-laden silence descended on the place again. She went back and sat on her chair, looking like a lifeless statue.
True enough, things like the ones we were experiencing were happening every day, but the effect is very different when the people to whom it is happening are considered part of the family. We began to be suspicious of everything, even the walls and tables. I was totally amazed at the state in which my homeland now found itself. In spite of all the wrong turns, it was growing in power and prestige, always expanding and getting bigger. It was making goods of all kinds, from needles to rockets, and broadcasting a wonderful new and humane trend in the life of humanity. But what was the point of all that if people were so feeble and downtrodden that they were not worth a fly, if theyhad no personal rights, no honor, no security, and if they were being crushed by cowardice, hypocrisy, and desolation?
Zayn al-âAbidinâs nerves suddenly snapped for no apparent reason. âIâm so miserable,â he yelled. âIâm unlucky. I feel wretched. God curse the day I was ever born or came to this damned café!â
Qurunfula studiously ignored him.
âWhat have I done wrong?â he carried on. âI love you. Whatâs wrong with that? Why do you bad-mouth me every single day? Donât you realize that it kills me to see you looking so sad? Why? Donât spurn my love. Love is not to be spurned. Itâs far more exalted and lofty than that. I feel really sorry for you, squandering the rest of your precious life so pitilessly. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that my heart is the only one that really adores you?â
Now Qurunfula broke her silence. âIt would appear,â she said, addressing her comments to the rest of us, âthat this man has no desire to respect my grief.â
âMe!â retorted Zayn