In Praise of Hatred Read Online Free PDF Page A

The standing waters begin to move. I tell her to baptize me with holy water and leave me on God’s shore, alone. I look into her golden eyes beyond the limits of spoken language, and a deep silence extends between us. I hear the sound of distant tambourines gradually drawing nearer, the sound rising on all sides; soft, with precise rhythms. From far away, the faces of ghosts appear to me, human in structure; faces without features, with smooth contours. I didn’t understand the nashid ; Rabia’s hand became even warmer and softer. My fingers sweated and desire rose in me like sap through a tree. The caravan approached our stopping-place and Rabia’s face was still submerged in its silence. Black horses, featureless beings, tambourines; I raised my gaze to Rabia’s face, looking for an explanation for this gathering. She was absorbed in her murmuring. I didn’t understand the imperfect words. She took me by the hand and led me outside. I hadn’t realized that we had flown, nor that we had crossed the streets of Jalloum, and that the scents of thyme and spices scattered within the narrow confines of the alleyways had become embedded within us.
    The land was vast, its meadows as lush as brocade, and the desert sand sparkled like silver confetti, as did the houses made of white stone which we entered. I heard people’s voices, but never saw a single one: I heard women’s laughter, children’s screams, the clamour of musical instruments. We went out into a narrow alley which became still narrower the further along it we walked, until we reached the point where we could no longer walk side by side. Rabia took my hand and I followed her, panting, trying to cling to the rustle of her white gown and her braided hair. She didn’t turn towards me, but continued walking behind the mass of horses, nashid singers and tambourine players. At the end of the alley the space narrowed and prevented me from passing while Rabia slipped through easily, as if the walls had been drawn aside to admit her. She looked behind, smiled at me, and left as the barrier opened up on to infinite water. The tambourines drew off and the horses departed.
    Only I remained. Everything around me, stones, water and sky, was silent. I was alone. My grandfather took my hand with a chuckle, my three aunts walked behind us at a measured pace in their usual clothing. At the first bend I saw Radwan leading our caravan to the gate of the huge house, leaving us in the vast outdoor space and taking himself off to his room without a word, as ever. There were plants surrounding me and water in front of me. I was sure that Rabia would never descend from the ceiling to take me by the hand again and lead me back to the water, which was unlike any water I had ever known. Whenever I tried to recreate the whole image, that water at the end bubbled in my memory, honey-coloured and shot through with green.
    I felt very tired and went into my room shivering, crept into bed and slept deeply. I tried to recall the details of Rabia’s face and eyes. Features, voices, scents: all fled as if I were in a faint or turning delirious. I only woke up because of the clamour made by my aunts. I heard Marwa’s voice and got up wearily from my bed, quickly washed my face and went into the living room where she was wailing. I hugged her and buried my face in her hair, and I felt the last of her sobs as she drew back to examine my face; its wheatish complexion hadn’t regained its purity yet. I didn’t understand what had happened. My aunts were speaking all at once and then suddenly falling quiet. After a short while, Radwan entered and said, ‘Selim is coming.’ He left and my aunts were silent.
    My aunt Marwa had a beauty spot on her cheek, an old family legacy which had been interrupted for two generations. When my grandmother saw it for the first time she said, ‘She will return the family to its true path. The women who come after her will enjoy their lives and they will have many