Free Two Women in One by Nawal El Saadawi Page B

it again!” ’ She did not say it. What could there be in that forbidden area? She would examine her body with trembling hands. She felt that something dangerous was concealed in that forbidden place. She could not touch it or see it, but it was there all the same. She felt it clearly between her legs. Her mother’s fingers would tremble when she neared it when she washed her daughter’s body. It must be dangerous and frightening. But she carried it in her body as an inseparable part of her. Sometimes she would forget it and consider it one of the myths that had filled her head as a child. At other times it would become an inevitable naked truth like a live wire; when she touched it her body would shiver and tremble violently.

 
    ‘Bahiah!’ . . . Her father’s voice rang in her ear like a shot, like the sole voice of truth. It made her realize that she was Bahiah Shaheen, hard-working, well-behaved medical student, the pure virgin, untouched by human hands and born without sex organs.
    She pulled the bedclothes over her head and feigned sleep as she heard her father’s footsteps coming toward the bed. His big fingers lifted the blankets and he stared at her and discovered, thunderstruck, that she was not Bahiah Shaheen after all: she was not his daughter, nor was she polite, obedient or a virgin; she had actually been born with sex organs, not only clearly visible through the bedclothes but moving as well, like the very heartbeat of life. By moving, she had removed the barrier in her way. She had torn away the membrane separating her from life. It was a thin membrane, intangible and invisible, like a transparent glass panel dividing her from her body, standing between herself and her reality. She could see herself through it but could not touch it or feel it, for it was like glass; the slightest movement and it would shatter.
    Her mother used to gasp when she saw her jumping down the stairs. Then Bahiah would hear her heart thumping. She would tense the muscles of her legs, bring her thighs tightly together, and walk towards her mother with that familiar girl’s gait: legs bound together, barely separated from one another. She felt that if they separated, something would tumble down like broken glass.
    When her mother disappeared into the kitchen, Bahiah would go back to her jumping. It was not enough to bound down the stairs, so she would stand on the balcony (their flat was on the first floor) and leap, shouting for joy when she felt her body flying, weightless, as light as air. The earth would no longer pull her towards it, she had rid herself of its iron grip for ever — but it was a fleeting moment. She had time for just one joyful shout before gravity pulled her back and she tumbled down like a falling star, her body plummeting to the ground like a stone.
    She would pick herself up, brush the dust off her clothes and gingerly touch her arms and legs. Everything was in place! Bones still unbroken. She then came to suspect that her mother had been lying to her and that no part of her was breakable after all. Then she would jump as she walked, swinging her legs freely and separating them wide apart, now certain that no glass object lay between them. She would climb onto the balcony and jump a second, third, fourth, and twentieth time. With each jump she became more convinced that nothing would break, that her muscles were strong and her bones firm. She pumped the air proudly with her knees, as her brother did when he walked. She stood erect, lifted her head high and focused on life, her dark eyes wide, sharp, and unblinking. With great pride she moved her feet over the ground. When standing, she would put one foot up on any chair or table. She would lift it onto any high edge, just like her father when he stood in the living room — and with the same pride.
    ‘This is disgraceful, Bahiah’, her mother said, slapping her knee to make her put her foot down. ‘Can’t you see how your girlfriends stand?’ She