Luqman, pay!
And when the war ended, when your own good fortune was reversed and your pockets became empty again, they turned away and forgot you. When you asked them for help, they started whining and griping again: Where would we get anything? What you gave us wasn’t enough to finish the four-story building. We were forced to mortgage the land and take out loans...Why do you yell like this? Deep down, you’ve always been good for nothing, and you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Leave, and don’t come back! We, your family, want nothing to do with you. We do not acknowledge you. And we’ll call the police on you if you don’t stop yelling...
--
“If you don’t stop yelling, I’ll put you in the straitjacket and lock you up!”
Salaam ran and put her hand over Saleem’s mouth. She promised the attendant that he would stop yelling after a little, and that he, the attendant, would be rewarded if he let her have a few extra minutes with her little brother.
“Little?” responded the attendant. “People have grandchildren at his age. What’s more, he riles the others up, and if they get riled up and start shouting too, what am I supposed to do? What would I say to the director? Visits usually take place through the bars. I’ve already brought you in to him, and that’s against the rules. What else do you want from me, Miss Salaam? For me to lose my job? Shame on you! I have kids!”
Salaam smiled and said, “Don’t you see? He has calmed down. He yelled so that I wouldn’t leave, so that I’d stay with him longer. Didn’t I promise you a gift? Let me stay, and you’ll be rewarded.”
“Fine,” answered the attendant. “Bring me the gift. I’ll be back in a quarter-hour.”
Saleem sat back down near his sister, Salaam. He started knocking his head against her shoulder again, imploring. She looked around and saw that the others were all calm. They, too, looked at her, imploring.
Salaam opened the buttons of her shirt and thought about the great sacrifices she made for her brother, to keep him looking human. What about the others? Didn’t they have parents and siblings? She saw their torn clothing, their long, dirty fingernails, their bare, blackened feet, and their faces filled with cuts, bruises, and inflamed pimples leaking pus. Then she resumed gazing at Saleem’s face and thanked God.
He threw his head against her chest, imploring. She slipped her hand in to her breast, brought it out, and gave it to him. Saleem sucked with his eyes closed while the others watched. Sometimes she thought he tricked her with his yelling fits so that she would give him her breast. How did this memory come back to him? How did he remember that she had suckled him when he had been only a few years old?
She was the one who had raised him. Their mother had given birth to him when she was almost fifty. Salaam had grown up as an only child after her mother’s womb had decided not to bear any more children. Then it changed its mind suddenly and brought forth Saleem. How wonderful her little brother had been! Thanks to Salaam. For Salaam is the one who raised him. She stayed up at night with him, fed him, rocked him, put him to bed, taught him...and suckled him. Until...
Until the war came.
The war was responsible for her losing him, for his losing his mind, for his mind losing its sense. Or else it was the Albino, whom Saleem began accompanying during his nightly rounds and his nighttime work.
All she remembered was that Saleem came home one day drenched in tears. He said he hated the Albino, that he never wanted to see him again. Salaam slapped him. She slapped him as hard as she could and screamed at him, “Shut up, you coward! You aren’t a man. You’re a chicken! I denounce you and your shame, you chickenshit!”
Until she cut off Saleem completely.
She no longer spoke to him. She began going down to “the gang” every night with trays of coffee, juice, snacks, and sandwiches just to spite him. Maybe he would be cured of his cowardice. Maybe he would get it together and return to the righteous struggle.
Until the Albino loved her.
He loved her and saved her from the shame and the schadenfreude of her relatives and neighbors. He protected her just as he protected the people of the neighborhood from death at the hands of their enemies.
Until the Albino proposed to her.
Salaam found her place, and what a place it was! She had a say in things, and the women of the neighborhood started trying to please her. Wasn’t she the fiancée of the Albino, this leader of men, at whose passing the surrounding neighborhoods trembled, as well as the neighborhoods beyond?
Until the shell struck the shelter and mowed down their parents, together with Saleem’s sound mind.
Her brother began to keep to his room, leaving it rarely. He suffered long periods of insomnia. And if he slept, the nightmares would wake him up. Or his temperature would rise, afflicting him with fever and all kinds of hallucinations.
Until the kid went crazy.
He stood in the door of the house, in view of the neighbors, and aimed an imaginary machine gun and began firing bullets of spittle. He fired imaginary bullets from an imaginary gun at imaginary people in an imaginary war.
Until the Albino died.
Until the war ended.
Until she went to Luqman to persuade him to hide out in her house.
Until Luqman persuaded her of the necessity of putting Saleem in a mental hospital.
Until she put him in the state sanatorium. She thought Luqman was embarrassed by her brother in front of people, and that if she only got rid of Saleem, Luqman would marry her. He would live with her and compensate her for the long years of deprivation she had known after the Albino’s departure.
Until she heard the attendant’s steps coming towards her. She pushed Saleem away and tucked her breast inside her shirt, which she buttoned back up. She pulled out a five-dollar bill to give to the attendant, and she hurried away, ignoring her brother’s screams and the screeching of his insane cohort.
--
Luqman lit a cigarette. He began wandering through the gardens that surrounded the buildings of the mental institution.
There was nothing better than nature to calm the nerves. If the war hadn’t ended and he were still rich, he would have erected a palace on a high, remote mountain. He would have filled it with rare, exotic animals and lived there alone with snow-white Marina. If only...
Luqman smiled. If anyone heard what was going through his head right now, they would have arrested him immediately and made him a permanent inmate of this asylum. Who would ever believe him if he told of the power, influence, and wealth he used to have? No one! Especially after quick money had become a dream that enticed everyone in this country.
When he saw them walking about with their cell phones, their flashy sunglasses, and their car keys, he wanted to puke. When people were given free rein, everyone became a pompous rooster, crowing and strutting about in public. Up became down, right became left, and decent folk got caught in the grime. The pigs! They were hungry, and they bought cell phones. They were broke, and they took a loan for the entire cost of a car. One nuclear bomb, and it would all be over. A universal conflagration. Each and every one of them annihilated. Then Luqman could rest easy.
One of those bombs you used to be so good at making, Luqman. You would be refreshed, and you would rest easy. Do you remember? God, those were the days! You’d make your bombs, and the buyers would come. Buying and selling. Your business developed and grew, and you became partners with the Albino. You two would secure the supply of bombs and whatever follow-up or servicing they required. Then the Lord made you prosper. And the Lord is generous indeed when he makes someone prosper, Luqman. You had a team of workers that even the Americans envied. You began exporting and working with people of various nationalities until your reputation ranked with the greatest professionals in the world.
And now? And now your fate is tied to half-woman spinsters like Salaam. You, Luqman, who were once able to make