“Don’t look at other people’s food. Eat what’s in front of you.” Shame suddenly colored Yusuf’s neck. He wanted to slap the suppliant look from his brother’s face. They weren’t beggars. “He can trade me a bite of my sandwich for a spoon of that kosharee,” Wadeeh offered. “No,” Yusuf said. “One bite for two spoonfuls. That should be even.” He didn’t want to owe anyone anything. The man and Zeeka exchanged sweet for sour under Yusef’s narrowed eyes. Wadeeh extended his sandwich to Yusuf as well, but he turned on his worn heels and walked down along the white washed wall, less angry with his brother than with the smear of saliva that warmed his own tongue at the offer of fried dates. For several years, Wadeeh continued to treat the boys to whatever his wife packed in his kerchief until the day he had to bring Yusef to the zoo as his helper. Yusef was grateful, having nowhere else to turn, and no one to stay on the streets for. He had been awakened by a street sweeper who couldn’t nudge Zeeka and his grandmother aside to sweep the strewn Chiclets wrappers and cigarette butts underneath them. They had passed in their sleep, fading in from the cold night like two foxes intertwined. Again, keep the money on you at all times in case the protestors break into the park. Use it for emergency veterinarian visits if you manage to get a doctor to the zoo safely. Yusef stood proudly over the mother and newborn, his fear now replaced with a desire to return the whole allowance back to Wadeeh intact, to be praised by the other zookeepers for being resourceful and staying loyal to his post. He touched softly at his shirt pocket where the notebook rested, and momentarily consigned himself to a world that wasn’t caving in.
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He would call the newborn Zeeka. * Yusef was becoming more anxious for Wadeeh’s return. He was desperate for more instructions. He wanted the notebook to be filled with every minute directive so he could simply tend to the animals without fear, like a prelapsarian Adam. He would stop worrying about how to get the ostriches distracted long enough to check their eggs, or whether the tigers can survive long on a smaller food portion. He would sleep again. The newborn dik dik hadn’t walked yet. It had been lying next to its mother for three days and now the other dik diks were biting at him. He needed fresh outside air. He even considered having a cigarette. The keepers had gifted him with several packs as a show of thanks before they left him to many sleepless nights. Yusef never smoked, even though he didn’t mind the smell or the burn. It was the pack he couldn’t stand. All the keepers smoked the same Cleopatra cigarettes, storing them loose in their shirt pockets. Only Sayed kept his in the red-rimmed pack. Sayed was the first aviary keeper Yusef met in the zoo after Wadeeh took him in, and the first to leave his post without notice or notebook entry. Yusef knew how it was to be instructed by Sayed, and it could not be written in any notebook. He stepped outside the small iron door near the Southern gate that opened from the zoo to the back alley. The midnight air was clear of animal pelt and feces. It burned his chest. The possibility of leaving the zoo to find Wadeeh now seemed unthinkable. Yusef knew he didn’t belong outside with those who pushed their way along the Nile Corniche hoisting banners and flags, loudspeakers,
pumping fists of unchained vitriol. He held the pack of cigarettes, thinking of the last time they were in Sayed’s hands. “Please don’t smoke. The smell irritates me,” a girl’s voice came from somewhere down the alley. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” Yusef cleared his throat. He hadn’t heard his own voice in weeks. “It’s alright,” she came close enough for him to notice that she was dressed in a long skirt and loose shirt that had a tiny spatter of blood on the shoulder that came from a cut on her forehead. “Are you bleeding?” She touched her head, bringing blood down with her fingertips for inspection. Yusef tried to understand her calmness, but he couldn’t help but notice her eyes darting around like two green finches. “I was selling halabesa on the Nile Corniche when a rock hit me out of nowhere. I tried finding a shortcut down this alley.” Yusef noticed the royal blue cart two yards behind her. “I have bandages and iodine at the zoo.” “I’m fine. There are people who’ve been stabbed and shot with rubber bullets.” The stain on her shirt spread wider. “You’re still bleeding. Let me take you to the hospital or a doctor.” “The protestors get hungry for hot chickpea around midnight and that’s when I sell the most. If I don’t make enough money tonight from the cart, I will owe the man I rent it from. He’s got a loose hand when he doesn’t get his money.” She was so frail, Yusef thought, if she broke no one would notice the difference. “I have money.” “No.” “You can pay me back. I work here at the zoo and I have an
allowance. Let me help you.” At this she smiled wide. He had never seen a smile spread like that. It spilled over the corners of her lips, past her cheeks, beyond the lines of her faced, washing the perpendicular alley behind her concave. “I used to visit the zoo every Friday when I was little.” “You can still visit,” he wanted to see he ride an elephant and have the giraffes eat carrot wedges off her belly. “My father told me never to accept charity. I don’t even know you.” “Your father is right. But this is not charity. You can pay me back in halabesa. How much money do you need?” “A lot of halabesa,” she joked, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes this time. He wanted to put it there again. He emptied his pockets knowing it included the last money Wadeeh gave him in case the animal’s food delivery was delayed by the protests. “Watch my cart and don’t let it out of your sight. I’ll pay my guys and come right back.” He watched her make her way between the narrow graffitied walls and slip into a group of young protestors who looked a little older than him. They were chanting something through a loudspeaker that he didn’t understand. * She didn’t come back. Yusef pushed the cart down the alley to the main road. He stood, stretching his neck, looking around for any climbable height to spot her from. He felt paralyzed with every conceived plan to find her. An old man came up to him asking for a cup
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