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HASSAN NAJMI hinder the flow of traffic or to spoil one’s enjoyment of the outdoors, especially the city architecture and people. I can see him now as he arrives at the intersection of Rue de Fleurus in the horse-drawn carriage, then making his way to her house, laborious with his heavy suitcase, his satchel, the carpet tied with a bad-quality rope, plaited Moroccan-style, and the packages he was carrying in his hands, under his arms or on his shoulders. Moroccans are always this way when they travel.They plan to travel light, with nothing but one small suitcase, which, by virtue of the many things they decide to bring, turns into two large ones or more! From the direction of the pavilion, not from the direction of the studio, I see him knocking on the door. I see the maid, Hélène, as she opens the door and he steps inside. Then I see the small white dog, Pasquette, Alice as she extends a cold hand, and Gertrude as she extends her cheeks from above, without even leaning slightly in the Moroccan’s direction. I see him stealing glances at the women’s faces to see what has changed and what has stayed the same after the long years since he saw them last.Then I see Gertrude after their return from the first outing as, barefoot, she tiptoes gingerly into her bedroom, then comes back carrying her photo album to show to Mohammed.She said it was just her childhood photo album, to help her begin telling him her life’s story, and that she had other albums he could look at in order. She told Mohammed that, as a matter of fact, she didn’t enjoy looking through her old photo albums, especially at pictures of herself, although she sometimes felt like looking at pictures of her mother and father. She was to be thanked, since she had thought it best, in keeping with her duty as a hostess, to show him what she called “the headwaters of the river of her life”. It was as though she thought it necessary to take Mohammed back to the very beginning so that he could fill in the blanks and get to know her every detail, perhaps in order to confirm what he had heard from her during her ten days in Tangiers. She noticed that he was still all bundled up, with an undershirt clearly visible beneath a shirt buttoned up the front, and on top of these, a woollen turtleneck. She assured him that the apartment was warm enough, so he wouldn’t be in need of all those heavy clothes and she tenderly assisted him in taking off his sweater. In fact, he felt several times more comfortable than before and the moment took on a different flavour as her perfumed breathing synchronized with 102 BANIPAL 43 – CELEBRATING DENYS JOHNSON-DAVIES
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HASSAN NAJMI his own.Then she opened the album and began inviting Mohammed to concentrate and pay attention: “Look here. Look at this . . .” Sat nearby, Alice seemed out of her element. It was as though she was anxious or upset, or had a stomach ache or some other unidentified ailment. It was a state whose intensity no one could know unless he himself was in the same grumpy, prickly mood or was feeling the same kind of burning envy. Nevertheless, Gertrude and Mohammed went on looking at the pictures in the album, exchanging comments, queries and clarifications. Moreover, they did so without concerning themselves about the bundle of boredom that sat seething nearby. It was as though she were on another shore that had slowly disappeared and could no longer be seen from the shore they were on! . . . Continued online . . . To read the whole of this chapter please go to www.banipal.co.uk/selections Excerpted from Hassan Najmi’s novel Gertrude, published by al-Markaz al-Thaqafi al-Arabi, Beirut, 2011 Lynne Rienner Publishers A CLASSIC REISSUED! Return of the Spirit a novel TAWFIQ AL-HAKIM, TRANSLATED AND WITH A NEW INTRODUCTION BY WILLIAM MAYNARD HUTCHINS “Al-Hakim, is, simply, the real Egyptian writer, and his works the genuine voice of Egypt’s awakening.” —Mursi Saad El-Din, Al-Ahram • pb $22 Season of Migration to the North a novel TAYEB SALIH, TRANSLATED BY DENYS JOHNSON-DAVIES “An Arabian Nights in reverse, enclosing a pithy moral about international misconceptions and delusions.”—The Observer • pb $13.95 The Wedding of Zein and Other Stories TAYEB SALIH, TRANSLATED BY DENYS JOHNSON-DAVIES “This book … has timelessness and universality … humanity and abundant humor in all hues … insights and worldliness and awareness.” —London Tribune • pb $13.95 C e l e b r a t i n g 2 8 Y e a r s o f I n d e p e n d e n t P u b l i s h i n g 1800 30th Street • Suite 314 • Boulder , CO 80301 • Tel: 303-444-6684 • Fax: 303-444-0824 • www.rienner.com BANIPAL 43 – SPRING 2012 103

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HASSAN NAJMI

hinder the flow of traffic or to spoil one’s enjoyment of the outdoors, especially the city architecture and people. I can see him now as he arrives at the intersection of Rue de Fleurus in the horse-drawn carriage, then making his way to her house, laborious with his heavy suitcase, his satchel, the carpet tied with a bad-quality rope, plaited Moroccan-style, and the packages he was carrying in his hands, under his arms or on his shoulders. Moroccans are always this way when they travel.They plan to travel light, with nothing but one small suitcase, which, by virtue of the many things they decide to bring, turns into two large ones or more!

From the direction of the pavilion, not from the direction of the studio, I see him knocking on the door. I see the maid, Hélène, as she opens the door and he steps inside. Then I see the small white dog, Pasquette, Alice as she extends a cold hand, and Gertrude as she extends her cheeks from above, without even leaning slightly in the Moroccan’s direction. I see him stealing glances at the women’s faces to see what has changed and what has stayed the same after the long years since he saw them last.Then I see Gertrude after their return from the first outing as, barefoot, she tiptoes gingerly into her bedroom, then comes back carrying her photo album to show to Mohammed.She said it was just her childhood photo album, to help her begin telling him her life’s story, and that she had other albums he could look at in order. She told Mohammed that, as a matter of fact, she didn’t enjoy looking through her old photo albums, especially at pictures of herself, although she sometimes felt like looking at pictures of her mother and father. She was to be thanked, since she had thought it best, in keeping with her duty as a hostess, to show him what she called “the headwaters of the river of her life”. It was as though she thought it necessary to take Mohammed back to the very beginning so that he could fill in the blanks and get to know her every detail, perhaps in order to confirm what he had heard from her during her ten days in Tangiers.

She noticed that he was still all bundled up, with an undershirt clearly visible beneath a shirt buttoned up the front, and on top of these, a woollen turtleneck. She assured him that the apartment was warm enough, so he wouldn’t be in need of all those heavy clothes and she tenderly assisted him in taking off his sweater. In fact, he felt several times more comfortable than before and the moment took on a different flavour as her perfumed breathing synchronized with

102 BANIPAL 43 – CELEBRATING DENYS JOHNSON-DAVIES

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