New Short Fiction: Alhassan Bakri’s ‘Field Marshal Trapped in a Bathroom’

By Alhassan Bakri

Translated by Alhassan Bakri

When the field marshal heard the roar coming through the north-facing window of the spacious restroom, he was taken aback. He was squatting on the front edge of the toilet seat, a position he preferred during his periodic defecation attacks. This provided adequate space in the seat behind his buttocks so he could slide in all directions to empty his severely compromised muscles, which were weakened further by a pubic hernia, which hampered his intrinsic capacity to stretch and contract his colon.

The marshal was well aware that widespread public discontent would destabilize his precarious rule; therefore, he had always relied on riot police, who had violently suppressed hundreds of protests during his thirty-year dictatorship. However, while reclining on the comfortable marble seat, he was shocked by the clamor of the irate mob, which also spilled through the southern window. His colon was entirely paralyzed by the abrupt increase in stress, causing the dung to stick in his anus. This led him to devote yet more time to the “practice of nature,” a phrase he developed to describe excrement following the suppression of a military coup that had succeeded in deposing and detaining him for a few days.

While still imprisoned on the bright seat, he could hear the tear gas canisters, and sometimes the echoes of bullets. The cacophony he believed had died away emerged, this time from the streets east of the palace and then from the west. The protesters were so close to the toilet that the stench of tear gas slipped through the windows, heightening his revulsion and tension. His excrement dropped on the ceramic tiles of the room as he stood up to close the two windows, but he ignored the filth and continued emptying his intestines. His tenacious riot police sprayed a hail of gunfire on the demonstrators as they reached the palace’s perimeter, and he shivered from head to toe. The police were eventually able to direct the commotion away from the bathroom and toward the train station. 

He felt a tremendous relief after realizing, based on his extensive knowledge, that live gunfire had most likely been used to murder countless demonstrators and injure many more. This would give him a month or two of tranquilly before another round of protests broke out. As the bullets whistled further off, he continued to writhe with his dung until he was finally able to empty his rectum with a forceful shove, just as the noise ceased completely. He sprayed his ass with water, rubbed it well with liquid soap, and rinsed it thoroughly several times.

When he stood up to get dressed, he observed the thick excrement that had rolled toward the door after he had stopped defecating to close the windows. He carried the pile with his left hand, dropped it in the toilet, and pressed the flush pedal, disgusted. Then he washed his hands with soap and water multiple times, over and over. However, no matter how well he cleaned them, they still smelled like feces. He washed and washed, but the smell remained firmly attached. He dressed anyhow, opened the door, raced out, and began a heated phone call, which was immediately followed by deadly ammunition in distant areas, including the consumer goods market near the United Nations Plaza, which was bustling with merchants and consumers.

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المشير جالس في الكنيف

لما باغته زعيق المظاهرات قادماً عبر النافذة الشمالية، كان المشير متقرفصاً على حافة مقعد المرحاض، من الأمام.  هو يختار الحافة دائماً لجلوسه على مدى نوبات برازه اليومية الثلاث، إذ يتيح هذا الوضع مساحة متسعة على المقعد خلف مؤخرته فيصير بوسعه أداء الانزلاق في الاتجاهات كافة بغرض إفراغ مصرانه الغليظ الذي أفقده الارتخاء إضافة إلى فتاق العانة قدرته الفطرية على التمدد والانقباض.

ربما يترتب على انفلات الفوضى عواقب لا يمكن لأحد التنبؤ بنتائجها، إلا أن المشير اعتمد دائما على ولاء قوات مكافحة الشغب التي أبدت قسوة بالغة في قمع الاحتجاجات على مدى سنوات حكمه الثلاثين.  لكنه الآن، وهو مقعٍ على مقعده الرخامي الماهل، أصيب بوجلٍ طاغٍ حين ترامى إليه هدير الجماهير الغاضبة قادما من النافذة الجنوبية أيضا هذه المرة. أدى فزعه المفاجئ إلى تنامي عطب مصرانه فعلق البراز بإسته، مما جعله يمضي وقتا أطول في ممارسة الطبيعة، كما سيسمي التغوط فيما بعد من خلال المذياع على أثر قمعه لانقلاب عسكري نجح في إزاحته عن السلطة لبضعة أيام.

 يستطيع تمييز أصوات أسلحة فض التظاهرات المختلفة وهو ما يزال عالقاً فوق مقعده اللامع.   يأتي زياط قنابل الغاز المسيّل للدموع التي يبدأ صوتها بعيداً، جهة الشمال، ثم لا يلبث أن يقترب من كلتا جهتي التظاهر، وتتسلل إليه نتانة الغاز مما يزيد إحساسه بالاشمئزاز ويرفع من درجة توتره.  ما أن ينهض بعريه وروثه ليغلق النافذتين حتى يسقط ما علق بشرجه من فضلات على سيراميك الغرفة.  لا يعير الأمر اهتماماَ ويهم باستئناف قضاء حاجته لكن مكافحو الشغب ينتقلون بعزم إلى إطلاق الرصاص الحي.

شعر بالامتنان لكتائب الشرطة التي لم تتوان في دفع الفوضى تجاه محطة السكة الحديد، بعيدا عن مرحاضه. انفرجت أساريره قليلا إذ أدرك بخبرته الطويلة في مقارعة الخطوب، أن الرصاص انطلق في اتجاه أفقي الأمر الذي ستترتب عليه إصابات قاتلة قد تؤدي لاستتباب الأوضاع.  استمر متقرفصاً بينما أتته طقطقة الرصاص من مسافات أبعد فاستطاع إفراغ غليظة دفعة واحدة هذه المرة.   غسل مؤخرته بالماء ثم بصابون الفنيك السائل فخطر له أن مهمته قد أنجزت، لكنه رأى الروث السميك الذي كان قد تدحرج تجاه الباب حين نهض لإغلاق النافذتين.  حمله بيده اليسرى بتأفف وألقاه في فوهة المقعد ثم ضغط دواسة التصريف.  غسل كفيه للمرة الثانية بالصابون وكرفهما فلاحظ أن رائحة الغائط لا زالت تفوح منهما، فغسلها مرة إثر مرة لكن الرائحة ظلت متشبثة بهما.  دفع الباب وخرج مهتاجا ثم شرع في مكالمة تلفونية هادرة أعقبها مباشرة إطلاق كثيف للرصاص الحي في اتجاهات متباعدة شملت سوق السلع الاستهلاكية المزدحم بالباعة والمتسوقين جوار ميدان الأمم المتحدة. 

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Alhassan Bakri is an acclaimed Sudanese novelist, short-story writer, literary critic, essayist, and translator born 1954 in Wadsulfab, Central Sudan. He graduated with a degree in English Literature from the University of Khartoum in 1979 and did an MSc. in English language studies, analysis, learning, and teaching skills at Aston University, Birmingham, UK. His novel Ahwal Almuharib Algadeem the Ancient Warrior, was awarded the prestigious Tayeb Saleh Prize for Best Novel of the Year in 2013, and he has published many other successful novels being warmly praised and welcomed by critics domestically and regionally. His literary contributions range from novels to political essays to public dialogue inside and outside Sudan. He has taught English language and translation at several institutes and universities in Sudan, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar, where he currently lives.