“Children of our street” – the main work of the great Egyptian writer, Nobel Prize winner Naguib Mahfouz. This is a novel-parable about the emergence of the three world religions: Judaism, Christianity and Islam, an allegory of the religious history of mankind … A story full of rivalry and struggle, hope and love, betrayals and miracles, and most importantly – faith. The novel was included in the list of the 100 best books in the world, according to the British “The Guardian”.
History is cyclical. Including the history of humanity’s religious life. Prophets come and go, for a short time changing the usual way of life. Like gusts of wind periodically stirring the calm surface of a musty pond, prophets stirred the minds of the common people, but did not fundamentally change anything. In the long run. In the short run, yes, but only for one or two generations of street dwellers, and then their memory remained only in songs and legends. Yes, I’m talking about the book now, but, agree, there is something similar to the history of mankind in this.
Those in power and their repressive apparatus see prophets as a threat to their position and well-being, even when they do not openly attack their power, and aim to destroy the troublemakers or at least attract them to their service in order to continue to prosper. At the same time, they, the rulers, are clearly aware that they are hated by the common people, and the overseers, robbers and extortionists are their only support and protection. The Progenitor lives in reclusiveness in his Great House and has long since stopped showing his face in public. He has retired from business, but bequeathed (not the most appropriate word, but I can’t think of anything else) his property to all his descendants. But the only one who gets an income from it is the superintendent, who understandably shares his share with the overseers. And the rest of the residents of the street? Well, apparently, they have enough that they are envied by the inhabitants of other streets.