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Al-Ahram Weekly 21 - 28 January 1999 Issue No. 413 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 21 - 28 January 1999 Issue No. 413
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Focus Economy Opinion Culture Features Living Travel Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Why did the chicken
By Fayza Hassan
By no extent of the imagination could she be called beautiful or even sweet. Later on, it appeared that she may have been aware of her lack of physical grace; one can only surmise that, playing in the grass, she may have stumbled by accident on her image reflected in a puddle of clear water, and had been startled by her blackness. From the very beginning she behaved like one who needed to rely on her personality rather than on her good looks to assert and/or endear herself.
She was born on the banks of the big river in a plant nursery and, although not technically an orphan -- she sometimes glimpsed her mother, and knew she had at least a brother and a sister -- she had been forced to survive by her wits alone from the very beginning. She had never been a favourite, pushed away more often than not before having had her fill of her mother's milk. She received scanty nourishment, feasting occasionally on some scraps of bread left over from the nursery owners' breakfast. Lately, they had taken to eating only when the sun dipped below the horizon, and she had to wait past sunset for her treat. She had sometimes observed members of her extended family prowling at the bottom of the embankment. They had returned several times bearing a large, muddy, slippery creature, over which they all fought tooth and nail. She had tried to imitate them when she was particularly hungry but had been terrified to walk on the slippery ledge. Besides, she was not sure she could stomach the squirming muck. Once, she had seen one of the big boys catch a bird, which he proceeded to tear apart with his sharp teeth while growling ferociously to keep the others at bay. The bird was almost her size and she had feared that such creatures might catch her, rather than the other way around.
That morning, when she woke up at dawn, her mother had already gone, or maybe still not come back from her forays. The mosquitoes, wet with morning dew, buzzed constantly around her head. She batted at them once or twice but her heart was not in it. She was hungry, cold and extremely miserable. She tried to call out, but her voice was so hoarse from the humid air that she could hardly hear herself.
The plastic sheets of the greenhouse were rustling in the morning breeze, and for a while she toyed with the idea of slipping under the tent and cuddling up by one of the precious saplings to enjoy the warmth of the earth. She knew, though, that her growling stomach would not give her respite and finally decided against sheltering in the greenhouse. Rather, she opted for another course of action. Her mother had warned her against what lay at the top of the hill, but today she was going to see for herself. Things could not get much worse, she reflected, and maybe she would find a small lizard. She crawled painstakingly in a general upward direction, making her way among the tall blades of grass. Alarmed, the insects whispered words of warning that she ignored. Awful gossipy little things, she thought, they had never helped her find the smallest of morsels, and had tried on occasion to suck her blood. Now they were telling her to stay. She scoffed. She was getting quite excited, and felt that she was going on an adventure. She finally reached the top of the hill as the sun was coming out from behind a grey cloud. A large expanse of hard black ground stretched before her. Past it, huge monsters thundered by, deafening and blinding her. She panicked and wanted to retreat but, in her confusion, could not find her way back. She stumbled a couple of times and found herself lifted up in the air by a hurtling beast. She did not need her mother to tell her that she was in great danger. Righting herself, she tried to find her bearings and, with the mightiest leap of her short life, landed against the trunk of young palm tree planted in a small depression. She lay there, completely winded, unable to plan her next move. Death loomed large on both sides of her refuge now and the noise paralysed her thinking abilities. Could that be the end of her? Would she die hungry?
Over the din she heard an unusual sound reverberating in her hiding place, a sort of tap-tapping coming closer. When the creature leaned over her, she knew somehow that she was saved. She almost stopped breathing and only looked up pitiably as if to say "what took you so long?" As soon as the stranger lifted her, she snuggled almost forcibly inside the sweet-smelling coat.
She could not remember what happened next, but there had been milk -- not as tasty as her mother's, maybe, but still a balm to her aching stomach -- and comfortable, safe sleep.
Upon entering the house, still hidden in the coat, she had known at once that her days of misery were over. She had sniffed out a familiar smell and was therefore not very surprised when the ginger appeared. She had tried to show her good manners, rubbing gently against the orange fur, but had been rudely pushed away. "Little upstart," the ginger had hissed contemptuously. Though her feelings were slightly hurt, she decided to hide it. Now was not the time for revenge. The old Siamese observed her intently with myopic eyes, before uttering gruffly: "Welcome to the club. The first rule is, the bed is mine." She sat watching him for a while as he stretched out more comfortably on the soft blanket. Filled with delicious chicken breast, there was nothing she wanted more now than to take a nap next to him. As soon as he closed his eyes and the twitching of his whiskers stopped, she jumped lightly on the pillows and buried her head under the grouch's paw. He never stirred. She felt a pleasant warmth invade her tiny body and a strange sound welled in her throat. She was purring for the first time in her life.
