The smallest mercies

By Fayza Hassan
On the third day of Eid, the crowds returned to the streets. I hailed a taxi in Zamalek and asked the driver if he would take me to the Al-Ahram building. He hesitated for a few seconds then muttered, "come on, I can't leave a woman standing in the street." Now it was my turn to waver. I knew the traffic was heavy. Would I be treated to a string of complaints about the economy and the poor state of the roads as we painfully inched toward our destination? I was late, however, and had little choice. I hopped in, already steeling myself against the possibility of a chronic grumbler. Two minutes later, we were stopped in the long line of vehicles exiting Zamalek. "They are like me," the driver said, "fleeing their homes." That was a rather novel take on the chaotic state of the traffic. The taxi drivers I am used to generally can't wait to go home. "Why do you say that?" I asked feebly, cursing myself for rising to the bait.
"Had I known what life was all about, I would never have married," he muttered somberly. I noticed that he was not really talking to anyone in particular and probably expected no answer. Against my best judgement, I encouraged him once more. "How many wives do you have?" I ventured, expecting the standard tale about bickering, jealous wives fighting over the attention of one man. "How many wives do you think I can have? I am lucky to be able to feed the one and her children. But it is entirely my fault. The poor thing is not responsible, really; I created our misfortune with my own hands."
By this time, he no longer needed encouragement and, as he manoeuvred the rickety taxi from lane to lane in the vain hope of making some progress, he recounted his story. The taxi was not his: it belonged to the hagg, a very generous person, God bless him. Sometimes he took pity on the taxi driver and told him to take a day of rest. "How can I, when I need the money so badly?" he asked rhetorically. "All these mouths to feed!" He married young to please his mother, who thought she was dying and needed to be reassured about her children's future. The first year, the marriage was blessed with twins, both girls. Two children at once were more than he had bargained for. He decided to stop there and took to driving a taxi at night to stay away from his wife.
Five years on, he began thinking. Who would protect his wife and daughters if he were to disappear suddenly? He was always tired, and his health was no longer what it used to be. He talked to his wife about having a boy, and she agreed. The second time around, she gave birth to second set of twins -- girls again. "God bless them; it is haram to complain about what He ordains," but a boy was even more necessary now. The following year, his wife promised to produce the long-awaited protector but, lo and behold, she had another girl. Finally, when the last baby had just begun to walk, she gave birth to a boy. "We live in two tiny rooms and with all the children there is no place for me to sleep. So I keep working at night for the hagg."
In time, he managed to marry off one of the older twins. The second became engaged to the neighbours' son, a nice boy. "I had promised the young man that his future bride would be ready by the Eid, but you know how it is with unexpected expenses. I did not get the money together in time and had to swallow my pride and ask him to wait until the feast of the sacrifice. Maybe God will have helped me by then." The boy had offered to take his daughter without the promised dowry, telling his prospective father-in-law: "We are one family." The taxi driver refused: "I'd rather sell my blood than let one of my daughters be taken away like a pauper." The girl had offered to help, and a chocolate factory in Imbaba was hiring. Within the week, she had come home in tears. "There were some good-for-nothing delinquents who used to wait for the girls at closing time and follow them, making unsavoury remarks. When she told me about them, I told her to stay home; I told her not to go back even for her week's pay. We did not need that kind of money." But now her fiancé was angry about the delay and, to pressure the father, had not visited the daughter for Eid. She had spent the whole feast crying.
"'Don't worry,' I told her, 'he'll be back. Where will he find a girl like you?' But do I really know? So many girls are looking for a husband these days. No matter how hard I try, my children's happiness is out of my hands."
We had arrived. "Don't pay me," he said, "you have been kind enough to listen to me." I gave him a large bill. "You are my first customer, I have no change," he said pushing the money away. "It's for you," I told him. "No, you did not understand -- I was not asking for money..." At that moment a man approached the taxi and gave an address in Heliopolis. "God bless you: you've brought me luck," the driver said, smiling, and kissed the bill before placing it in the empty drawer.
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