Laziness in the Fertile Valley Read Online Free PDF Page A

world could do it. Believe me, it’s nothing but gossip.”
    “The world is so spiteful,” said Abou Zeid with a certain deceit. “Men say so many things.”
    Serag was deeply humiliated. He remembered having already heard such stories about his brother. It was true that Galal had broken all records for sleep and was even capable of worse performances. He only woke to eat or to go to the bathroom. But from this to accuse him of sleeping for a whole month, surely it was an exaggeration. Serag wondered if the public included him in this vice. He suffered under the weight of inertia that bound him to his family. His youth still saved him, but how much longer? Work was the only thing that could rescue him, but it was such a remote possibility, he didn’t dare think of it.
    Next door, in the tinker’s shop, a workman twisted over an unwieldy pot while a small boy helped him work the ancient bellows of the forge. Some winter flies moved about silently, but persistently. Abou Zeid drove them away with a controlled and cunning gesture of his hand. At another shop a servant who was doing his marketing swore heatedly at a vegetable seller who had allowed himself to make a joke. His voice echoed in the middle of the road like that of a hysterical madman, as though someone had tried to violate him or tear out his eyes. Abou Zeid tossed his head at this show of human depravity, then took up the train of his mediocre thoughts again. He had just found an idea for his business that seemed congenial.
    “About the shop, my son, what do you think of my selling radishes? They’re beautiful — radishes!”
    “It’s not bad,” acknowledged Serag. “But it’s still not right. Just the same — think of filling this shop with radishes. It would be amusing.”
    “What’s really amusing,” said Abou Zeid, “is to see it empty as it is right now. Believe me, it gives me a scare.”
    “Be patient a few more days. I promised to put my mind to it. You know, Abou Zeid, at the moment I’ve a few worries myself. When things are going better, I’ll find a really spectacular idea for your business.”
    “Allah watch over you, my son! Only you’d do well to hurry. And above all, try not to bring me ideas that are original and tiring. I’m an old man; I can’t allow myself to have fancies. As you see, my strength declines day by day. But I have confidence in you. May God help you!”
    Abou Zeid’s laments originated in a conjugal drama which he had never mentioned to the young man. His pride had kept him silent. Abou Zeid was the victim of a nagging mother in law’s ambition. She kept after him all day, calling him a misshapen monster, unfit, and a failure at business. She made his life unbearable and incited her daughter to rebel. Abou Zeid was reduced by this to beg caresses from his wife. To escape the reproaches of this fury, he had, several months before, quit the little corner of the street where he had sold his merchandise in order to rent this shop. Here he had consecrated himself to becoming a famous tradesman. He now found himself in a trap and was trying to avoid, as much as possible, the disaster that menaced him.
    A bus passed, stopping at a nearby station. Some men got out and walked without haste toward their homes. No doubt they were coming back from work, but from what sort of work? Serag observed them with a certain contempt. They didn’t seem harassed, but rather sad. They must have been sleeping in their dusty offices at the bottom of some corporation. The thing that annoyed them above all, was that they couldn’t sleep in their own homes. They had to disturb themselves and go elsewhere to sleep, in order to give the impression they were doing important work. Serag thought them contemptible. They walked off and the bus went on its way, spitting out a great jet of blue smoke.
    With the corner of his shawl, Abou Zeid wiped the saliva that was soiling his beard; then he straightened his baskets a little and asked with