Ibrahim Abdelkader Al-Mazni’s ‘Mimi’ – ARABLIT & ARABLIT QUARTERLY
This short story is taken from Ibrahim Al-Mazni’s short-story collection Fi Al-Tareeq (On the Road), published in 1937. Most of the 20-odd stories in the collection are humorous or satirical.
Mimi
By Ibrahim Abdelkader Al-Mazni
Translated by Amr El-Zawawy
Tolba sat in the train coming back from Alexandria, thinking about Warda. No girl in Alexandria, with all their various charms, however they were stretched out on its beaches, could force him to forget her beauty and glamor. He could not turn his heart and thoughts away from her. As the train’s movements shook him in his seat, he grew convinced that Alexandria was a source of moral turpitude: how dare these parents leave their girls to stretch out, nearly naked, on the beaches!
He was not a conservative young man—no, he was a modern one. Yet his work had made him level-headed and poised. He was a pharmacist: his daily dealings with the customers had given him enough experience to receive them and take their orders, leading him to discover their personalities and needs. He had gained a fair amount of tolerance, forbearance, and wisdom, such that he could not be deceived by outward appearances. In the pharmacy, he discovered more than medicine.
Tolba was of the opinion that the parents who let their daughters lie half-naked on the beaches were in the wrong, for this was not the proper way to get them married. As if the train had jumbled his thoughts, he asked himself again: But is it true? Could it be that those parents had been swept away by the mores of the modern time and were no longer able to swim against the tide? Anyhow, a man who had seen all those pretty, voluptuous girls could not satisfy himself with one woman only, being much like a man who ate turnip every day, then tasted a variety of foods, and so forgot how turnips had been enough for him!
He thought that girls shouldn’t have showcased themselves on beaches in the first place. Now that it had become an ordinary scene, it would be very difficult to change it: we had eaten from the Tree of Knowledge and restraint could no longer be exercised …
Straightening himself on his seat, he asked himself: If marriage is the aim, then is it better for a fair-minded man to marry a woman who never goes out to the beaches or cinemas—a woman who knows nothing but food, clothes, and furniture—or should he marry a woman who stretches out on beaches and exposes her lithe, sleek body, is friendly with every man she meets, and enjoys life, with all its amenities, to the fullest?
He shook his head again in befuddlement: a dilemma! An ignorant woman’s behavior was monotonous, though satisfying. A modern woman could be enjoyable at first, but then the enchantment would vanish and peace of mind compromised by anxious doubts…
He was preoccupied with all this for a while and reached no satisfying answer. Then he came to Warda, picturing her in a way completely divorced from reality. He knew that this would show her in an extraordinary light, but at least it was pleasing to him. For him, imagination made her prettier than usual, and that was how he used his imaginings to depict her resourceful charm. Yet Warda was mercurial, assuming different images in his mind. She was ever-changing…
As he thought about Warda, Mimi’s image came to his mind. She was an orphan girl who served him and his family. She never grumbled and always followed orders obediently and with a pacifying smile. Her sole aim was to see him happy and satisfied. Was she in love with him? She never spoke about such things, and her face betrayed nothing. But he did not want her to love him… He loved someone else…
He recalled famous lines of poetry as he alighted, carrying his valise:
I am in love with Laila but she loves another man,
And another girl loves me, while I don’t know…
In an audible voice, he murmured, “Oh my God! I’m love with Warda, but Mimi might be in love with me! Well, Warda definitely loves no one but me. Maybe she doesn’t love me as much, but at least she loves me! It’s enough for now, but who knows…”
Doubts assailed him as he bought the anthuriums Warda cherished. He was visited by the same doubts as he entered his home and tossed the valise to the side. Mimi greeted him warmly, but he ignored her. Then he ruminated about Mimi, seeing her as a rose opening her arms to him, wanting to contain him. Why did he ignore her? This was an act of cruelty! She had a pretty, sleek shape. Her eyes glimmered, and she was good-natured, lithe, and charming. But he loved Warda!
At that moment, Mimi was arranging the anthuriums in the vase. He barked, “What are you doing?”
“Arranging the—”
“Stop!” He snatched the anthuriums from her and bundled them back into their bouquet. “Arranging the flowers?” he muttered. “Why on earth? These is not for the house!”
“Leave them here!” he snapped. “These are for Warda!”
Mimi received these words like a stab to her heart. He had returned after fifteen days in Alexandria without a single rose for her, while he had a whole bouquet for Warda! He was cruel to let her down like that. What if he’d never even come home?
She didn’t let the train of thought continue, for she had to prepare another suit for him to wear while seeing Warda. She knew full well that Warda did not return his love; she was in love with another man. Warda would never think about whether or not he might bring her roses. However, Mimi could never tell him.
Mimi was indignant at Warda, even though the woman was neither his fiancée nor his wife.
Carrying the bouquet of anthuriums, Tolba went out. Mimi was left to her thoughts, and she paid no heed to the others in the house: his sister, mother, and the other servant. Still, she had to smile at them.
Before long, there was a knock at the door, and Mimi opened, then stepped back in shock. Tolba had returned, carrying the same bouquet. Glumly silent, he stepped in, tossed the bouquet aside, and hurried to his room, where he shut himself in.
After some time had passed, he clapped his hands, then told his sister to ask Mimi to come up. After all, Mimi was his personal maid. She arranged everything for him, as was his mother’s wish, since she wanted him to notice Mimi’s attentions and take her for his wife.
“Have a seat,” he told Mimi. “I want you to tell me the truth.”
“Alright.”
“It’s about Warda,” he said. “You know her as well as I do. What’s going on?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh, women can guess things about each other better than men do. They talk about things men don’t understand. So what’s going on?”
“I don’t get you.”
“So, you don’t want to spell it out! I’ll have to find out for myself!”
Mimi couldn’t keep this secret, and she told Tolba’s mother about the conversation. In fact, Tolba had seen Warda out and about with a man several times. Whenever he was back from Alexandria, he saw them together. And when he went to her place to give her the anthuriums—when he was about to alight from the tram in front of her home—he saw her again, going out with the same man. So he didn’t step off the tram and instead went home.
Tolba believed in being straightforward. He visited Warda’s father and asked about the man. Tolba was an old friend, and he did not think he was overstepping any boundaries. Warda had been motherless for a long time, and her father pampered her. “You mean Hosni?” her father asked. “He’s her fiancé. Now you understand what’s going on.”
Tolba nodded. “I should stop visiting you, lest the fiancé grow suspicious. But everything happened so quickly! I know all your relatives, and I know he’s not among them. I’ve only been gone about 15 days. That’s not much time for you to get it all done.”
“Why not? One day is enough to ask around and make sure the guy leads a blameless life,” the father said.
“And you made sure he’s a good fit?” Tolba asked.
“So many questions!” the father shot back, irritated.
“I know you’re not a liar. You haven’t asked around. Warda has chosen the guy and managed it all herself. Anyway, good luck and congrats!” Tolba rose to leave.
Days rolled by, and Tolba kept reassuring himself that what had been done could not be undone, and that the marriage could not be a happy one if the wife was as spoiled as Warda was, having managed the process without her father’s assistance.
Who is better: a girl like Mimi, who is dutiful and tends to nothing but her work, or a girl like Warda, who is accustomed to stretching out on beaches? Who is better: a girl who knows no one but me, or a girl who goes out with young men and chooses her own husband without her father’s advice? he wondered.
His decision came down to Mimi. He was certain she would love to hear that he would propose to her. He spoke to his mother, and she heartily welcomed the decision. She informed his sister, who also felt happy. He was about to talk to Mimi, who, as he assured himself, had been raised in their house as a maid.
Mimi was not happy! She was torn between the fact that he was finally thinking of her as a potential wife and the thought that he’d only proposed when he was certain that Warda had rejected him. She was also torn between her pride and her burning love for him. In the end, she broke down in tears.
Tolba’s mother and sister noticed her tears and were baffled by them. They thought either she was shedding sweet tears of love, or perhaps she didn’t want Tolba as a husband, but, as an orphan, she felt she couldn’t speak up.
Mimi, too, was baffled: If she accepted his proposal, she would be swallowing her pride. But if she turned him down, she would find herself homeless and a pariah.
She dithered for such a long time that Tolba thought she had turned him down. He decided he’d better listen to his heart. One evening, he struck up a conversation with her.
“You love Warda,” Mimi said. “I’m not your choice.”
“Is it that your only reason?” he asked, as if he was sure that her jealousy was a true sign of her love. “Listen, Mimi. If I had truly loved Warda, I wouldn’t have forgotten her so quickly. You are my treasure—I just failed to notice.”
“Because you saw none but Warda,’’ she shot back.
“That’s true. But my love for Warda and her ways made me realize that you loved me more truly. You should thank the circumstances that made me turn away from her and love you. Isn’t it so?”
At this, Mimi was convinced, and she set aside the issue of her pride. She felt certain that Tolba spoke the truth and that his love was true.
Ibrahim Abdelkader Al-Mazni (1889–1949) was born in Cairo into a relatively affluent family, but experienced financial hardship after his father’s early death. In 1906, he enrolled in Cairo’s Teacher’s College. It attracted many future literary figures, including Abd Al-Rahman Shukri, who became a close associate and major influence on al-Mazini. During this period, al-Mazni also formed connections with Abbas al-Aqqad and Muhammad al-Sibai. Together, they formed Al-Diwan School of Literature.
Al-Mazni began writing prose in the mid-1920s and completed his first novel, Ibrahim al-Katib (Ibrahim the Writer), in 1943. That same year, he released a sequel titled Ibrahim al-Thani (Ibrahim the Second), followed shortly by three more novels in rapid succession.
Amr El-Zawawy is Professor of Linguistics and Translation, Faculty of Education, Alexandria University, Alexandria, Egypt. He has also practiced written and simultaneous translation for more than 20 years now. He contributed important articles to different international scholarly journals, including but not limited to Babel (John Benjamins), Journal of Psycholinguistics, California Linguistic Notes and Advances in Language and Literary Studies. He published a number of books and translations, including Studies in Contrastive Linguistics and Stylistics (Novika, USA), Exploring the Cognitive Processes of Simultaneous Interpreting (Lexington Books, USA), Seminal Studies in Linguistics and Translation (Cambridge Scholars, UK), and Selections from Arabic Poetry (Kindle, Amazon).
Other stories in the Classic Short Fiction series, curated by Amr El-Zawawy:
Ibrahim Al-Mazni’s ‘Eve and the Viper’
Muhammed Taymour’s ‘The Eid Whistle’
Muhammad Taymour’s ‘A Boy Who Became a Man’
Marouan Abboud’s ‘Among the Problems of the Village’
Mahmud Taymour’s ‘The Grand Funeral’
