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A Handful of Dates 2
'Women,' and from the way my grandfather pronounced
the word I felt that 'women' was something terrible. 'Masood,
my boy, was a much-married man. Each time he married he
sold me a feddan or two.' I made the quick calculation that
Masood must have married some ninety women. Then I
remembered his three wives, his shabby appearance, his lame
donkey and its dilapidated saddle, his djellaba with the torn
sleeves. I had all but rid my mind of the thoughts that jostled in
it when I saw the man approaching us, and my grandfather
and I exchanged glances.
'We'll be harvesting the dates today,' said Masood. 'Don't
you want to be there?'
I felt, though, that he did not really want my grandfather to
attend. My grandfather, however, jumped to his feet and I saw
that his eyes sparkled momentarily with an intense brightness.
He pulled me by the hand and we went off to the harvesting of Masood's dates.
Someone brought my grandfather a stool covered with an
ox-hide, while I remained standing. There was a vast number
of people there, but though I knew them all, I found myself for
some reason, watching Masood: aloof from the great gathering
of people he stood as though it were no concern of his, despite
the fact that the date palms to be harvested were his own.
Sometimes his attention would be caught by the sound of a
huge clump of dates crashing down from on high. Once he
shouted up at the boy perched on the very summit of the date
palm who had begun hacking at a clump with his long, sharp
sickle: ;Be careful you don't cut the heart of the palm.'
No one paid any attention to what he said and the boy
seated at the very summit of the date palm continued, quickly and energetically, to work away at the branch with his sickle
till the clump of dates began to drop like something descending from the heavens.
I, however, had begun to think about Masood's phrase 'the
heart of the palm'. I pictured the palm tree as something with
feeling, something possessed of a heart that throbbed. I re-
membered Masood's remark to me when he had once seen me
playing about with the branch of a young palm tree: 'Palm
trees, my boy, like humans, experience joy and suffering.'
And I had felt an inward and unreasoned embarrassment.
When I again looked at the expanse of ground stretching
before me I saw my young companions swarming like ants
around the trunks of the palm trees, gathering up dates and
eating most of them. The dates were collected into high
mounds. I saw people coming along and weighing them into
measuring bins and pouring them into sacks, of which I
counted thirty. The crowd of people broke up, except for
Hussein the merchant, Mousa the owner of the field next to
ours on the east, and two men I'd never seen before.
I heard a low whistling sound and saw that my grandfather
had fallen asleep. Then I noticed that Masood had not changed
his stance, except that he had placed a stalk in his mouth and
was munching at it like someone surfeited with food who
doesn't know what to do with the mouthful he still has.
Suddenly my grandfather woke up, jumped to his feet and
walked towards the sacks of dates. He was followed by Hussein the merchant, Mousa the owner of the field next to ours,
and the two strangers. I glanced at Masood and saw that he
was making his way towards us with extreme slowness, like a
man who wants to retreat but whose feet insist on going
forward. They formed a circle round the sacks of dates and
began examining them, some taking a date or two to eat. My
grandfather gave me a fistful; which I began munching. I saw
Masood filling the palms of both hands with dates and bring-
ing them up close to his nose, then returning them.
Then I saw them dividing up the sacks between them.
Hussein the merchant took ten; each of the strangers took five.
Mousa the owner of the field next to ours on the eastern side
took five, and my grandfather took five. Understanding nothing, I looked at Masood and saw that his eyes were darting
about to left and right like two mice that have lost their way
home.
'You're still fifty pounds in debt to me,' said my grandfather
to Masood. 'We'll talk about it later.'
Hussein called his assistants and they brought along don-
keys, the two strangers produced camels, and the sacks of
dates were loaded on to them. One of the donkeys let out a
braying which set the camels frothing at the mouth and com- plaining noisily. I felt myself drawing close to Masood, felt my
hand stretch out towards him as though I wanted to touch the
hem of his garment. I heard him make a noise in his throat like
the rasping of a lamb being slaughtered. For some unknown
reason, I experienced a sharp sensation of pain in my chest.
I ran off into the distance. Hearing my grandfather call after
me, I hesitated a little, then continued on my way. I felt at that
moment that I hated him. Quickening my pace, it was as
though I carried within me a secret I wanted to rid myself of. I
reached the river bank near the bend it made behind the wood
of acacia trees. Then, without knowing why, I put my finger
into my throat and spewed up the dates I'd eaten.
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