God Dies by the Nile and Other Novels Read Online Free PDF Page B

parched tongue.
    The moist trunk of the tree evoked an ancient memory, an old sensation. She could almost feel the warm, wet nipple pouring milk into her mouth as she touched it with her lips. A bead of sweat fell from her forehead onto her nose. She wiped it with her sleeve, then her hand moved up to rub her eyes, but they were dry. She whispered softly, ‘May Allah have mercy on you my mother.’
    She lifted her face to the sky, and the light of dawn shone in her large black eyes. Her eyes had never looked down, nor did she walk with them fixed to the ground. Like her Aunt Zakeya she looked up with pride and with anger, but in hereyes there was no defiance. Over them now lay a cloud of anxiety, as though she was lost and afraid of what lay ahead of her. Her look wandered into the infinite expanses of sky, slowly plunged itself in its depths. In the distance she could see the horizon, a dark line where the earth met the sky. The red disc of the sun climbed out gradually from behind, and started to pour its orange light into the universe. A shiver went through her body. She could not tell whether it was the lingering cold of the night, or the fear of what was yet to come. She lifted her shawl and concealed her face from the light. In front of her the waters of the river were the same as they always had been, and its banks went on and on forever. She looked back, and looking back what she saw seemed no different from what she saw ahead. The same water, and the same track over the river bank stretching out to an endless end. But she knew this time that somewhere in the limitless space was the village she had left behind. And her mind kept remembering things as though she was back, or as though she had never left. The mud hut where she lived, nestling up against her Aunt Zakeya’s dwelling. And just in front across the lane that huge gate with the iron bars, shielding the large house which hid behind from curious stares and probing eyes.
    She used to crawl on her belly over the dusty lane. If she lifted her head she could see the iron bars like long black legs, watch them advancing slowly, intent on crushing her under their weight. She screamed out in fright, and immediately twostrong arms reached out and picked her up. She buried her nose in the black garment. It was homely and rough, and smelt of dough or yeast. When she nestled up against her breast, her mother put something in her mouth. It was a mulberry fruit, ripe and sweet and soft. The tears were still in her eyes but she gulped them down, greedily swallowing the fruit which was filling her mouth with the taste she loved so much.
    Ever since childhood the sight of the iron bars had filled her with fright. She heard people mention the gate and the iron bars when they talked of different things. But they never came close, and when they walked through the lane they sidled along the opposite side, and their voices would drop to a whisper the moment it came in sight. The expression in their eyes would change at once from one of pride or anger or even cruelty to a humble resignation as though they had decided to accept anything which fate might do to their lives. They would bow their heads and look at the ground as they passed by, and if one happened to look into their eyes at that moment not even a hint of anger or rebellion could be detected lurking inside.
    Once her legs could carry her around she started to go to the fields, either running behind the donkey, or dragging the buffalo by a long rope tied around its neck, to make sure it followed her wherever she went. And every day she carried an earthenware jar on her head, and walked along the river bank to the bend in the Nile where the girls filled up the empty jarswith water. But she avoided passing in front of the iron gate, and took a roundabout way behind the village, making almost half a circle to get to the river bank and walk straight down to the filling place. By now she knew that the iron gate opened