Read Online Love in the Kingdom of Oil by Nawal El Saadawi - Free Book Online Page B

and she opened her eyelids, which had stuck together. She saw the man stretched out with eyes closed, his arm gushing with blood. She was by his side, naked, and the colour of the blood was black. Some drops of the blood had congealed while others remained gelatinous. She stretched out her arm to take hold of the railing. There was a strange smell, like gas gone bad.
    ‘Get the tea ready!’
    She heard his voice as he pulled up his
sarwal
. His upper half was naked. He was sitting in front of the doorway of the house. Around him were four men. They were all absorbed in some game or other. Thick square cards. He was sitting in the middle, dealing the cards to them. His body was at ease on the seat. The place of honour suited his body completely, and harmonized with his features. His fingers gathered the cards, then spread them out and then gathered them again. The eyes of the others were fixed eagerly on his hand.
    ‘Tea!’
    His voice had a commanding tone. As if he were her husband. She looked at him through a veil. Perhaps they had exchanged her husband for another man. The cards rustled as they were dealt. The men’s faces were tense. Their eyes were fixed on the cards. Inside each eye the pupil swivelled. They had to be five not four. The head of the fifth was hidden behind the newspaper. Was he her husband? His legs were stretched out in front of him. His feet were large and his toes were stuck together by a black membrane between each toe.
    The sun had begun to fall below the horizon. A pale light fell on the first page. Black particles swam in the slanting rays. At the top of the page she read the date: Tuesday the 16th. She looked at her watch. It was two o’clock and the minute hand was moving. Of course, time was passing as usual. She read the big banner headline:
    His Majesty declares war on Satan.
    The playing cards were not ordinary ones. Rather they were something like chess pieces. The bodies of the pawns were made of wood, standing in their places unable to move. Big fingers enclosed them and moved them from place to place.
    ‘Check!’
    It was definitely not her husband’s voice. He was no longer asking for tea. He was absorbed in the game. It appeared that the king did not want to be in check. He raised his voice repeatedly. ‘Check!’ His tone began to be dominated by anger, and uproar ensued.
    ‘These are the rules of the game, brother!’
    ‘You’re cheating!’
    ‘I’m more truthful than you are!’
    ‘You’re ignorant!’
    ‘You’re as thick as a donkey!’
    They left the king and became involved in hand to hand fighting. Dust rose in the air, the drizzle of their saliva was sprayed all around, and they began to pant. None of them paid attention to the newspaper. The wind rolled it away, turning over page after page. Suddenly she saw a picture that looked like her: ‘A woman went on leave and did not return. She must be found dead or alive. It is forbidden to give her shelter or protection.’
    She did not have the nose they showed in the picture. Could it be the nose of another woman who went on leave? Her boss at work said that she had a Roman nose. At first she imagined that he was teasing her somehow. In her eyes, the Romans were meat eaters.
    On the same page she saw the picture of the interrogator. He was sitting swivelling his chair. His back came to the wall and his face was towards her husband.
    ‘Is this your wife’s picture?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Yes, I’m sure.’
    ‘A hundred per cent?’
    ‘Nothing is a hundred per cent sure.’
    ‘Then you’re not sure.’
    ‘Yes and no.’
    ‘What do you mean by yes and no? Is that an answer?’
    ‘What is the answer?’
    ‘Either yes or no.’
    ‘Then yes.’
    ‘Then you’re not sure.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘A hundred per cent?’
    ‘No.’
    The policeman beat the ground with his feet, and the chair swivelled round without stopping. Her husband seized the opportunity to hide his face behind the newspaper.