رحلة عبد الواحد الأخيرة .. قصة قصيرة

Quote: Abdulwahid’ Last Journey Short Story by Ahmed Almalik It was a very hot morning in the past century. I was sleeping under Neem trees when somebody awoke me. I looked, I saw a thin man whose shape resembled a scarecrow. I noticed that he was my neighbor Abdul Wahid whom, at the moment I emerged from the dream, seemed to me with his protruding skeleton and sad face as if he was coming from the other world. ”Go and get me an audio tape for us to listen to!” he instructed me. I observed that he used the plural pronoun form “us”. Later on, I learnt that he was so timid to utter that he wants to listen to music together with his bride as there were only a few days passed of his marriage! I brought to him an audio tape by singer Magzoub Ounsa. It seemed to me a good pick out for a person who is going to have his share of pleasure for the first time ever. When I handed him the audio tape he gazed wonderingly; “What does it contain?”, he asked. I explained to him that the tape contained songs by singer Magzoub Ounsa. ”What does his singing about?” he asked. Bewildered by his question, I answered, “by God they about love and such a thing”, quoting a phrase once I heard from someone talking about a girl who was looking for a bridegroom to relieve her of the bother of looking after sheep adopting an unfamiliar means by sending love letters to a ****** of youths using the same phrases and affections with her altering nothing in the text but the name in the beginning. It was apparent that she used to copy the letters from a correspondence model book; and when once that person was asked about the contents of the girl’s letters he answered,-: “By God they are about love and such a thing.” About this coincidence of the letters being copied in bulk from the same book for the beloved, I recalled the story of that Imam of mosque in a village near Dongola who used to copy the Friday sermon from an Egyptian sermons book, when he blindly read from the sermon: “What is that corruption taking place in Emad Addin Street?” I told him that by God the singer talks about love and such a thing. When I saw that he was standing in perplexity with no evidence he grasped what I told him, I explained to him that the singer says in his songs addressing his absent beloved: “I love you and want you back..” He looked annoyed and said: “Are there still people who care for such drivels,” dropping the tape on to the ground; “Don’t you have a violin?” I went on to elucidate to him all song words - music, drum, violin, devil - revolve around but one idea and that some of violin songs weep no one except that somebody’ departure from his homeland to another village that is a few kilometers away turns into an occasion of weeping and subsequently a topic of a song. He paused for a while and then said: “Isn’t there masculine singing?” In fact I didn’t quite get what he meant by masculine singing. However, I recalled the story of our farmer friend who was practicing a strange hobby that was to sue his divorcees to the sharia court just for the sake of fun or as he used to put it: I’ve conviction that I will loose the case but I want to give them the troubles of appearing before the courts. There was a well-known sharia judge who always declared him as a loser and imposed on him the incurred cost of court proceedings. Once he returned from the court very angry for losing a case: “This Sheikh Annahar – the judge’s name – should look for a masculine court other than this affair of this be divorced and that be married,” he addressed me. Heading home I thought that since there are masculine law courts why not there be also masculine singing! I brought him another tape with songs by singer Mohammed Alamin. He collected it and left. On the way to the mosque for Friday prayer I saw Azzain, the liar, coming back from the prayer. I asked him about the topic of the sermon: “It was on religion and such a thing,” he replied. Upon my return back home I again encountered Abdul Wahid and understand from him that his bride hasn’t enjoyed Mohammed Alamin’s songs and that they spent long time waiting for Zad Ashojoun song to come to an end; it seemed to them like an endless, unlucky national destiny. He concluded by saying: “The poem is extremely nice to the best of our understanding. Yet we only want something light to finish quickly .. somebody has gone east..another west. That very time of the year was Dameira season. When the water rises the people mania rises too, as the elders saying goes. This coincides with the appearance of Abduarrahim wad Assika whose descendant was unknown to anybody. He used to disappear in winter immediately upon the wane of Dameira and the wane of his mania season, as the villagers say, to again surface late in the summer; by then even Sheikh Annour used to loudly call his children:”Abdurrahim has surfaced. Hurry up dung waterproof the roofs.” The boys used to rush preparing the dung for placement on the roofs on the alert for possible of rains upon coming of Dameira. Immediately at the end of his hibernation and the return of the last migrant bird to the North, Wad Assika used to clothe a coat which gave him the look of a security man. Once he decided to spend the night with us in our house. We dined with very thin layers of wheat with milk known as sanasin. It followed by sipping a round of tea. Then I pointed out to the bed where he would retire. I went to bed at a different courtyard given what I know about him he would wake up so frequently throughout the night. Abdulwahid had been stretching out his hand to solicit music charity. His statement that he wanted something to finish quickly had alerted me and I recalled what a singer said once about Hamad Alrayiah that he chases the song as a person does with a chicken to slaughter. I fetched him a tape by Hamad Alrayiah and told him the songs could please him. I was busy counting the stars in the painting of sky which appeared saturated with white cosmos dust. The moment I way lying in bed sound asleep that painting was hanging in my memory. After a short while I noticed that some stars were roaming in my memory and before I was aware that I was awoke, I saw a giant of a person blocking the access to the stars standing above me; it was Wad Assika. “What is wrong with you? Have the devils attacked you?” I asked him. He negated all of that. He said he was just suffering stomach pains and wanted to have a warm peppermint drink. I realized that he was hungry. I handed him a painkiller tablet and requested him to fall back asleep. Instead I heard him muttering something in anger. Then he put on his cloth and left. It was late in the night. I know he would go to wake up somebody else. However, I fell back asleep. *** After a short while Abdulwahid came back and dropped the tape onto the ground, saying: “curse be on the sire of such a love.” I asked him what was the problem. “That guy of yours made us out of breath. Find me something else…,” he said. “How long you will stay just changing tapes? Demeira has approached…,” I said. “I will never get back to farming..,” he said. “I will go for Omrah in winter…,” he added. This time I haven’t bothered with looking for something suitable. I just got him a tape without having checked its contents. *** “Your friend woke me up yesterday in the midnight and asked me,” continued our neighbor Wad Annour as saying, “Let your lady get up to make me a drug to swallow and take me to the witch-doctor to have my belly cauterized.” There in the village was an old man whose name was Albasseer known for adoption of cauterization in treatment of some diseases like nervous colon disorders. “I woke up the women. They made him peppermint and tamarind. Also he ordered fenugreek with milk. When all the milk but a little remained he asked for a piece of bread in order to use it for improving the fenugreek as he said. I remained awake with him throughout the night listening to stories he narrated. Food to eat and somebody to listen to him was all that he wanted. He was telling lengthy stories and every time I fell asleep he used to woke me up and resume narration from the point of story I missed. At the end and when the sun rose, I told him let us go to the witch-doctor to cauterize your belly. He answered me by saying no, no, thank God I have recovered.” “It is apparent that you man not going to travel for Omrah or non Omrah either!” I said to Abdulwahid. The Dameira had lapsed, winter arrived, Wad Assika vanished in his winter hibernation, migrant bird elites returned from the North, and Abudlwahid was still in his eternal honeymoon busy with changing the inclinations in vain to come to a good singer…”if it happens you see this person tell him to look for another job rather than the singing!” In winter, his father arrived and had a quarrel with him, “get up boy to catch the season. In character you are useless in farming and yet you want to commence the season at your choice?” “My father I will go for Omrah.” “How come you go Omrah when you are penniless and the money your expatriate relatives helped you with you had spent in buying battery cells to end up broken. Get up boy follow me right now to the farm.” “All right my father. I come tomorrow.” “No tomorrow. Today you come.” “All right my father. You can go and I will join you later.” “In step with each other.” “May I go to the garden for minutes to replace the tape?” “You boy move out; don’t let me go berserk.” Heartbroken, Abdulwahid moved out from the house.