Morning and Evening Talk Part 4

He could breathe freely in the new climate but had lost confidence in everything except his dream. It was for this that he worked and lived.

Samira Amr Aziz She was Amr's fourth child and second only to Matariya in beauty. As she played on the roof and beneath the walnut trees in the square and studied at Qur'an school, her serious personality, calm nature, and brilliant mind crystallized. She seldom got involved in quarrels with her siblings and when violence flared up would withdraw into a corner, content to watch what she would later be summoned to bear witness to. Though more beautiful, she resembled her mother in general appearance-except for her height, at which Radia greatly marveled. In contrast to her sisters, she retained the principles of reading and writing that she learned at Qur'an school and nurtured them diligently, so she was the only one to regularly read newspapers and magazines as an adult. On visits to the Murakibi family at the mansion on Khayrat Square and the Dawud family in East Abbasiya, she made a mental note of the elegant setup, table manners, rhythm of conversation, and beautiful style and tried to adopt and emulate them as far as means and circ.u.mstances allowed. Mahmud Bey would joke in his crude manner, "You're a peasant family, but there is a European girl in your midst!"

She entered adolescence but did not have to dream secretly of romance for long, for a friend of her brother Amer called Hussein Qabil, who owned an antique shop in Khan al-Khalili, came and asked for her hand. He had kept her brother company up to the baccalaureate then taken over from his father when he died. Despite his youth, his manly features catapulted him into manhood early. He had a huge body, a large head, and sharp eyes, and was generous and very well-off. Unlike Sadriya and Matariya, Samira was wedded to her husband in an outer suburb, in one of the apartments of a new building on Ibn Khaldun Street. This suited her very well for she met many Jewish families, learned how to play the piano, and raised a puppy called Lolli that she would take with her on walks around al-Zahir Baybars Garden. When Amr heard about this he said, both protesting and accepting the situation, "It's G.o.d's will. There is no power or strength but in G.o.d."

Hussein Qabil was wealthy and generous, so fountains of luxury burst forth in his house and Samira could gratify her hidden longing for style and elegant living. Her happiness was compounded by her husband's good company and manners, and the fact that he addressed her as "Samira Hanem" in front of others while she called him "Hussein Bey." Sincere patriotism and deep piety filled the man's heart and he spread them to everyone around him, and so the 1919 Revolution penetrated Samira's heart in a way it did not the hearts of her sisters. Similarly, her piety was the most sound of the young women because she was the least influenced by Radia's mysteries. She gave birth to Badriya, Safa, Hakim, Faruq, Hanuma, and Salim, all of whom enjoyed a generous share of beauty and intelligence. The parents worked together to bring them up well in an atmosphere of religion and principle. From the first day she said to Hussein Qabil, "We will educate the girls along with the boys." He agreed enthusiastically.

Samira's glow was enough to stir jealousy among the Murakibi and Dawud families. Yet her life was not devoid of great sorrow, for she lost Badriya and Hakim and his family, and anxiety about Salim broke her heart at various points in her life. Astonishingly, she met these calamities with a strong, patient, and faithful will and was able to confront and endure them. But the forbearance with which she endured her sorrow also made her vulnerable to accusations of coldness.

"You should believe in amulets, spells, incense, and tombs. There is no knowledge but that of the forefathers," Radia said to her. Samira secretly asked herself whether it was these that had protected Sadriya and Matariya from calamities.

Death came and Hussein Qabil died a year after Salim was born, four years after her own father's death. He left her nothing except a depository of antiques. She sold them as the need arose and lived on the proceeds. He died just as his children were moving from secondary school to university.

"What's left for you now, Samira?" Radia asked.

"A depository of antiques," she replied.

"No, you still have the Creator of heaven and earth," said her mother.

Shazli Muhammad Ibrahim THE SECOND SON OF MATARIYA and Muhammad Ibrahim, he was born and grew up in his parents' house in Watawit. He was good looking, but less so than his deceased brother, Ahmad. He took his brother's place as his uncle Qasim's playmate but did not achieve the same legendary status. From childhood, he frequented the house of his grandfather Amr and the families of Surur, al-Murakibi, and Dawud and continued to do so throughout his life, borrowing his love of people and socializing from his mother. From childhood too, attributes that would accompany him through life manifested: amiability, a penchant for fun, hunger for knowledge, love of girls, and all-round success in all of these, though his academic achievements were only average. His love of knowledge probably came from his father and it prospered with the books and magazines he procured for himself. Besides his relatives, he made friends with the leading thinkers of the day, who woke him from slumber and inflamed him with questions that would dog him all his life. Despite his burgeoning humanism, he inclined to mathematics so entered the faculty of science, then became a teacher like his father, remaining in Cairo thanks to the intercession of the Murakibi and Dawud families. He proceeded through life concerned with his culture and oblivious to the future until his father said to him, "You're a teacher. The teaching profession is traditional. You should start thinking about marriage."

"There are lots of girls in the family-your aunts' daughters and our uncle's daughter, Zayna," said Matariya.

He had casually courted a number of girls but did not have genuine feelings for any of them.

"I'll marry as it suits me," he said.

"A teacher must maintain a good reputation," his father cautioned.

"A 'good reputation'?" He was going through a period when he questioned the meaning of everything, even a "good reputation." Whenever he was alone he would ask himself the question: Who am I? His thirst to define his relationship to existence was obsessive and consuming. He never stopped debating with people, especially those in whom he recognized a taste for it, like his cousin Hakim and other young men in the families of al-Murakibi, Dawud, and Surur. Later he ventured to have audiences with Taha Hussein, al-Aqqad, al-Mazini, Haykal, Salama Musa, and Shaykh Mustafa Abd al-Raziq. He did not reject religion but sought to base himself in reason as far as possible. Every day he had a new concern. He would even hold discussions and confide in his uncle Qasim and interrogate relatives in their graves on cemetery festivals.

When his grandfather Amr was carried to bed breathing his last, a nurse called Suhayr was brought to administer an injection. Shazli fell in love with her despite the grief that reigned. He helped her heat some water while his uncle Amer's wife, Iffat, quietly observed them with a sly, wicked look in her eyes. As the 1940s approached, their love cemented. He realized he was more serious than he had imagined this time and announced his wish to marry. Matariya said frankly, "Your face is handsome but your taste is appalling!"

He responded to the rebuke with a laugh.

"Her roots are lowly and her appearance is commonplace," Matariya went on.

"Prepare for the wedding," he said to her.

Muhammad Ibrahim accepted the situation unperturbed and Matariya did not dare to anger her son beyond what she had said already. Shazli selected an apartment in a new building on Abu Khuda Street and embarked on a life of love and matrimony. Suhayr gave up her job and devoted herself to married life. She proved elegant and agreeable and soon won her mother-in-law's acceptance. Shazli was unlucky with his children; five died in infancy and the only one to live, Muhammad, became an army officer and was martyred in the Tripart.i.te Aggression. Shazli spent his life searching for himself. He would read, debate, and question, only to hit a wall of skepticism and begin the game again. He was not interested in politics, except insofar as events that invited reflection and understanding, and so did not fall under the magic of the Wafd but followed the ups and downs of the July Revolution as one might an emotive film in the cinema. Yet he was disconsolate to lose Muhammad and never recovered from his grief. "Neither of us was created for pure happiness," he once said to his sister, Amana. He found some solace in loving her children. He was fearful of the severity and vehemence of his cousin Salim, his niece Hadiya's husband, and found neither enjoyment nor pleasure in his conversation. Salim said to him, "Your confusion is a foreign import. It shouldn't trouble a Muslim."

He continued to love Qasim in spite of what happened to him. He sometimes went with him to the Misri Club, where they were flooded by memories of their fathers and grandfathers. As a teacher, he would observe the up-and-coming generations in dismay. He once said to himself: People only care about a morsel of bread and emigrating, so what is the use of suffering?

Shakir Amer Amr He was born and grew up in Bayn al-Ganayin, a street lined with modern houses and fields of vegetables and henna bushes extending east and west. He was the first child of Amer and Iffat, and the grandson of Amr Effendi and Abd al-Azim Pasha Dawud. The income from his father's salary and private lessons and the small elegant house with a grape trellis, guava tree, and clove bushes in the back garden that his mother owned meant the family enjoyed a comfortable lifestyle, just as it abundantly granted him, the eldest child, a smart appearance and not unreasonable pampering. Though sport was his forte he also achieved good results at school. When his brothers, Qadri and Fayyid, entered the world, sibling rivalry played its part, including fights and a contest with the parents, but the family was nevertheless regarded as cohesive and harmonious. The parents' mutual love emitted pure breezes that promoted an atmosphere of peace and spread affection. The father's integrity was as obvious as the mother's endeavors to control. Shakir loved his grandparents Amr and Radia, and always displayed respect for Radia's mysteries. Likewise, he loved his grandparents Abd al-Azim Pasha Dawud and Farida Hanem Husam. He took on the Dawud family's customary contempt for the Murakibis, which intensified after Shakira became his mother, Iffat's, sister-in-law. He grew up loyal to his family and his inner self more than to the nation or any political party. This was something he inherited from his mother, who was uninterested because of her upbringing, though on formal occasions would profess her father's loyalty to Adli. As for Shakir's own father, nothing remained of his Wafdism in the family home except a faint sentiment he kept hidden and which thus made no impression on the children.

Shakir enrolled in the faculty of medicine and plunged into his first serious emotional experience when he fell in love with Safa, his aunt Samira's daughter. News of their romance reached his mother, Iffat, and she flew into a frenzy. There was nothing essentially wrong with Safa-she was a beautiful medical student and one of the family. However, despite a good relationship with them, Iffat considered her cousin Amr's family beneath her; her son's bride should rank higher on the social scale. Her anger was aroused and she did not conceal it. She made her feelings known to Samira and Amr's families and offense was taken. At the same time, Shakir himself did not display any real opposition to his mother. Samira thus advised her daughter to sever relations with her cousin. The young girl was angry for her family honor and ended the relationship once she was convinced he was not serious about it. Shakir did not suffer particularly, though was rather annoyed at his mother. He graduated a doctor and, with his uncle Doctor Lutfi Pasha Abd al-Azim's help, was appointed to a post in the ministry of health's laboratories, then opened a clinic specializing in blood diseases a few years later. His mother began planning how to realize her dream of a marriage she judged to be suitable for her son. He was a frequent patron of the nightclubs along Pyramids Road and fell for a Hungarian dancer. He rented an apartment for her near the Pyramids and the relationship developed into genuine love, so he married her in secret. He did not dare reveal the truth directly to his mother, but he did tell his father. Iffat was stunned. She raised a storm that everyone heard about, and there was much gloating. The doctor moved to his new apartment and it looked like he would be cut off from the family. "Don't grudge your son. Marriage is fate in the end," Radia said to Iffat.

As time pa.s.sed limited relations resumed. The July Revolution came and society was turned on its head. The Dawud family was stripped of its pasha rank and the value of doctors and judges diminished. Shakir's hatred of the new era made him a nervous wreck. He made plans to emigrate and seized the opportunity to attend a medicine conference in Chicago. He left for the United States and took up residence there, severing relations with both his nation and his family. He returned in the middle of the 1980s accompanied by his wife and children. He visited his parents, siblings, and grandmother Radia as a foreign guest, then quickly returned to his adopted country.

Shakira Mahmud Ata al-Murakibi Her eyes opened onto the mansion on Khayrat Square with its furniture, objets d'art, and lush garden. She had the misfortune of inheriting her most important features from her father, Mahmud Bey, with no sign of the beauty and charm her mother, Nazli Hanem, possessed. She was of medium build, had a large head and coa.r.s.e features, was stubborn to the extreme in her decisions, zealous in her views, and could not be moved from a sentiment. She was also deeply pious, with firm morals and urbane, refined manners. Had she been otherwise, her father would not have married her to Hamid Amr to safeguard her from opportunists. Despite the vast difference between their two families, no one in Amr's house was enthusiastic about the marriage except Amr himself; from the moment the engagement was announced they referred to her as "Shakira Bey Ata."

Shakira loyally loved her young husband from the first day and was completely ready to open her heart to everyone in his family. True, she was not unaware that his common tastes, customs, and conduct were a long way from her refined and urbane upbringing, but she told herself, "Everything can change!" She noticed too that his affection for her was a pa.s.sing whim and that the first signs of boredom appeared during the honeymoon itself. This realization hit her like a bolt of lightning and caused her immense pain, its poison piercing her love and pride. She did not keep secrets from her mother. "These things will pa.s.s. Be subtle and smart," said Nazli Hanem, speaking to her as a lady of experience and concealing the anxiety in her heart. She also said, "He comes from a common environment and because he is a policeman he only ever deals with good-for-nothings."

Hamid was heedful of his father-in-law's power and of living among his relations, so he would not raise his voice, but instead made his words gentle yet simultaneously hurtful. Once, when Shakira was angry, she said to him, "Most people don't know a blessing until it's gone."

He guffawed scornfully and replied, "Me marrying you is a blessing. You're absolutely right!"

"Then why did you agree?"

"Marriage is fate."

"And ambition and greed too!"

Thus began a struggle that would go on for years and end in divorce. It grew gradually more heated and one day she screamed at him, "You exude filth!"

"Didn't they tell you about your grandfather, the pantofle seller?" he asked sarcastically.

Yet despite her fury and stubbornness, Shakira did not lack judgment, so the secrets of her wretched marriage remained concealed within the narrowest confines. Even Nazli Hanem did not know the full details. Indeed, in spite of everything, Shakira's love for her husband did not dry up until after her father's death. She gave birth to Wahida and Salih and dearly hoped he would change with time, but it was no use. Relations with his family fared no better; she had thought Radia eccentric before she married and now decided she was insane. The two women hated one another with a pa.s.sion despite Radia and Nazli's close friendship.

"Be careful not to provoke your mother-in-law. She fraternizes with the jinn," said Nazli.

"I depend on G.o.d alone," Shakira replied.

She and Amer's wife, Iffat, also detested one another, compounding the envy and aversion between Ata and Dawud's families. When the older generation pa.s.sed away, Hamid could breathe freely. His wrath was unleashed in an atmosphere free of constraints and the matter ended in divorce. Shakira began to despise Hamid and his family deeply and her rage never subsided. She continued to curse and cut him to pieces for the rest of her life. In her loneliness religion claimed her. She performed the hajj more than once and was as bent on the rituals of prayer, fasting, and alms-giving as she was on cursing her enemies and d.a.m.ning them in this world and the next.

Shahira Mu'awiya al-Qalyubi She was the second daughter of Shaykh Mu'awiya and Galila al-Tarabishi. She was born and grew up in the old family house in Suq al-Zalat in Bab al-Sha'riya. The hallway of the house was her playground, between the stove, well, and family sofa, where she, Radia, Sadiqa, and Baligh would congregate. There sounded her father, the shaykh's, exhortations, and there circulated Galila's mysteries of times past. From the beginning, Shahira showed no interest in religion or religious duties. Yet she eagerly embraced popular heritage and would add to it from her abundant imagination. In body and face she resembled Radia, though she was fairer, remarkably blunt and impudent, and eccentric to the point of insanity. Two years after her father died, one of his students, a Qur'an reciter with a sweet voice, nice appearance, and ample means, sought her hand in marriage. She was wedded to him in his house in Bab al-Bahr, not far from the family residence. She gave birth to a fine-looking son, whom his father called Abduh because he thought the name of the man whose voice he adored, Abduh al-Hamuli, would be a good omen. The marriage prospered in spite of Shahira's irascibility and impudence. "It's the spice of married life," the husband, Shaykh Ali Bilal, would joke.

Shaykh Ali Bilal made friends with Amr Effendi and his family, and whenever he visited the house on Bayt al-Qadi Square, Amr would ask him to bless it with one of his recitations. Thus, he would sit cross-legged in the reception room after supper, drinking coffee, and recite something easy from the Qur'an in his sweet voice. He was impelled by his voice and friends to recite eulogies to the Prophet at festivals. His livelihood grew and his admirers multiplied. Before long he was invited to enliven weddings with his panegyrics. Amidst the festive atmosphere and pleasant evenings, he got into the habit of smoking hashish. Eventually one of the composers suggested he try singing, foreseeing a rosy future in it for him. The shaykh met the invitation with a merry heart. He saw nothing wrong in abandoning the holy suras of the Qur'an to sing, "Don't Speak to Me, Papa Is Coming," "Draw the Curtains So the Neighbors Can't See," and "Yummy Scrummy Fried Fish," and was remarkably successful in so doing. He made recordings, which were circulated in the market, and people started talking about him. Amr clapped his hands together. "What a comedown!"

The temptations of the new milieu made Shahira anxious about her position as wife. "You were a blessed shaykh when I married you," she said. "Now you're a chanteuse!"

The man was intoxicated by his success and became the organizer of many a hashish gathering. He was soon drinking heavily and the house would be filled with horrid trenchant fumes at the end of the night, reminding Shahira of the tragedy of her brother, Baligh. The sound of her upbraiding and scalding him with her vicious tongue would drown the dawn muezzin. Then reports of him flirting with singers reached her ears. She pounced on him with a savagery that flung open the gates of h.e.l.l upon him and he made up his mind to divorce her. But one night, before he could put his decision into action, he overdid the drinking and singing and had a heart attack. He died among friends, plucking the strings on his lute.

Shahira performed the rituals of mourning without emotion. She leased the house and the shop below and returned with Abduh to the old house to share her loneliness with her mother, Galila. "Let Abduh be your eye's delight," said Radia. But Abduh was s.n.a.t.c.hed away in a fever, as though in a dream. By this time his mother was already known as Umm Abduh about the quarter, and the eponym would stick for the rest of her life. She became pa.s.sionate about breeding cats and dedicated her time to looking after them until they filled the gap in her life and crowded the old house. She started to believe she could understand their language and the spirits that inhabited their bodies, and that through them she was in touch with the Unknown. She found her best friend in Radia. Whenever they met up, whether in Bayt al-Qadi or Suq al-Zalat, a curious session invariably ensued during which they would exchange anecdotes about the realm of the jinn, the Unknown, and the offspring of mysteries. In such things they were of one heart and one mind, despite Radia's misgivings and suspicion that Shahira begrudged her her children and happy marriage. Shahira was famous in Suq al-Zalat for her inscrutable, fearful personality and impudent tongue. She was not known to perform any religious duties and would prepare her meal at sunset in Ramadan saying, "People don't need religious duties to bring them closer to G.o.d." After her mother died she was wholly immersed in solitude, submerged to the top of her gray head in a world of cats. Her brother, Baligh, saw to her upkeep. He would invite her to visit his sublime mansion, but she hated his wife for no real reason, and only ever left her cats to visit Sidi al-Sha'rani or Radia. She fell victim to the cholera epidemic of 1947 and moved to the fever hospital after instructing a neighbor to go to Radia for the cats' care. She died in hospital, leaving some forty cats behind. Radia's sons and daughters mourned the aunt whom they had laughed at in life.

Salih Hamid Amr HE GREW UP IN THE MANSION ON KHAYRAT SQUARE in the wing set aside for Hamid and Shakira. He and his sister, Wahida, represented the first generation of grandchildren in the Murakibi family and, consequently, enjoyed special deference from their grandparents and maternal aunts and uncles. The big garden was his playground and dream; he loved it in spring, with its abundant medley of pure fragrances, and he loved it in winter, when it was cleansed by the water of precious rains. He was closer to his mother than his father, whose time was taken up with work, and became even more so each time he perceived signs of the ordeal the man put her through. He was strong bodied like his father and good looking like his grandfather, but his mother gave him a pious, aristocratic, and urbane upbringing so he grew into a man of integrity and religious principles. He was also headstrong like his mother, which led some to believe him ignorant, which was far from the truth. The impression was intensified by the harsh way in which he judged people by the Qur'an and Sunna, intolerant and inflexible. His father was probably his first victim despite the fact that the man loved him dearly. He loved his father too, but considered him vulgar and placed him in the same bracket as sinners and good-for-nothings while granting him his full due of reverence and loyalty. Hamid instinctively grasped his position and complained about it to his brother, Amer. "Shakira has brought them up to dislike me."

Thus, Amer said to him one day, "You're a good man, Salih. Don't forget to respect your father."

"I never neglect my duty to my father," he replied.

"Perhaps he isn't content with formalities."

"He abuses Mama, Uncle," he said with absolute frankness.

He was similar in temperament to his cousin Salim, but with one difference; Salim combined emotion with action, whereas he would say to himself: The heart's enough; it's still conviction. Thus, he loved the Muslim Brothers without joining the organization and pledged loyalty, as a Murakibi, to the Crown just as he lent money to all the parties. As a result of the eternal struggle between his parents he generally shunned his father's relatives-the families of Amr and Surur-and despised the Dawud family. Like his mother, he believed his grandmother Radia was quite simply mad. Because he continued to achieve in school Hamid said to him, "You should study medicine. You're right for it."

"No. Agriculture. You have land you can farm afterward," said Shakira.

He preferred his mother's idea and Hamid privately cursed the two of them. After graduation he traveled to Beni Suef, determined to make a modern farm out of the land his mother inherited when his tyrant grandfather died. He married a woman called Galfadan, a relative of his grandmother Nazli Hanem, and with high hopes dedicated himself to working on the land. He bred calves and set up a beehive to produce honey. He dressed in the clothes of a country n.o.bleman and only wore a suit when he visited Cairo. His heart was hostile to the July Revolution, even though it did not harm him personally and two of his uncles, Abduh and Mahir, were among its men. In the period of the infitah, his livelihood increased, his family expanded and he remained loyal to his principles. His indignation at his father intensified after the man divorced his mother and married a second time, but he was genuinely sad when he died. He grew accustomed to country life. He loved it and was pa.s.sionate about his work and success, and began to refer to Cairo as "The City of Pain."

Sadriya Amr Aziz She was rightly said to be a gift in Amr's family. Like the others, she was born and grew up in the old house on Bayt al-Qadi Square. Her skin was a deep shade of brown and she was small with a slender, well-shaped body and pleasant features. She was received with subdued joy for she disappointed hopes of a male child. As the eldest, she took on a motherly role toward her brothers and sisters from childhood. She was her mother's confidante and heiress to her heritage, but she was not without a measure of conventional religion, and her domestic skills, from cooking to cleaning and needlework, were exemplary. She was sent to Qur'an school and learned how to read and write but reverted to illiteracy when they were not put to use. She worked and sang unceasingly even though she was not endowed with a particularly good voice. You would find her in the kitchen helping her mother or laboring in her mother's place, sitting at the sewing machine, or on the roof checking on the chickens and rabbits. When the house crowded with Amer, Matariya, Samira, Habiba, Hamid, and Qasim, she played deputy to her mother while joining in the games, gaiety, shouting, and battles, and excelling all round. She obtained a status enjoyed by no one else, which she maintained for the rest of her life. She shared everyone's worries, despite the burden of her own, and had total faith in her mother, whom she saw as a miracle worker.

She had barely turned fifteen when a country n.o.bleman from Upper Egypt called Hamada al-Qinawi came forward to ask for her hand and a dream she had entertained since the age of ten came true. Her departure represented the first farewell and first wedding celebration in the family. Hamada was an acquaintance of Amr's. He adored Cairo, so when his father died he had moved there with his mother and leased his thirty feddans of land to an uncle in Qina. Rashwana, Radia, and Surur's wife, Zaynab, visited the man's house in Darb al-Qazzazin.

"Hamada's mother is devout. No religious duty is above her," Rashwana said to her brother Amr.

At a gathering in Amr's house attended by Amr, Surur, and Mahmud Bey Ata, Surur Effendi said, "The groom is unemployed and has no skills. That's bad."

"He has thirty feddans," said Amr.

"Even so, he is barely literate," replied Surur with unfounded conceit.

"A man's value is in his money," said Mahmud Ata.

"He is from a good traditional family," said Amr.

From what she could see through the gap in the mashrabiya Sadriya was pleased with Hamada's appearance; he was tall and strong, smartly dressed in a jubbah and caftan, and had manly features. She was wedded to him in a house in Khan Ga'far that he rented from the dimwitted pastry man. Mahmud Ata furnished the reception room, Ahmad Bey gave jewelry and clothes, and Abd al-Azim Dawud provided the wedding dress. Sadriya began her married life with Hamada resting on her mother's instructions, her blessings, and superior skills as a mistress of the house. Hamada represented a complex problem. They were mutually affectionate and each felt a strong need for the other, but Sadriya was naturally sensitive and irascible and very stubborn while her husband was a narrow-minded chatterbox who loved glory and authority. His unlimited spare time left him free to interfere in things whether or not they concerned him. She was not accustomed to a man snoring away until noon, waking up, and interrupting her housework to talk endlessly about his family, its merits, and his own illusory virtues, followed by foolish comments on her work, about which he understood nothing. He knew his religion only by name and did not pray or fast. Barely a night went by when he did not stay up late at the Parisienne, drinking wine and dining on appetizers. Yet they did not shun marital relations or children, and so she gave birth to Nihad, Aql, Warda, and Dalal. Nor did they refrain from futile debates, hence he would boast about his family of landowners and she would in turn extol the families of Ata and Dawud and Shaykh Mu'awiya, the hero of the Urabi Revolution. The discussion would sometimes become heated and they would exchange cruel insults. She strove to hide the steam from the cooking pot under a tight lid and solve her problems herself without involving her family. But Radia perceived what was going on through her own intuition as well as from the man's excruciating chatter. "A wife has to be a doctor," she said to her daughter.

"You must visit the relevant tombs," said Sadriya.

"What is the point in visiting tombs for this? The best remedy is to cut off his tongue!" said Radia.

The truth was that it was not just Hamada's wife who suffered from his irritating chatter; on visits he would inflict it on the families of Amr, Surur, al-Murakibi, and Dawud until it became a joke among the relatives. It became clear that her husband's eyes knew no shame and followed every pretty girl who pa.s.sed by. Sadriya grew increasingly uneasy.

"Have you no shame?" she asked him disapprovingly.

"There's no harm in looking," he scoffed.

But she caught gestures between him and the beautiful widow who lived in the house opposite. A fire ignited inside her and blew the sleep from her eyes. She stayed awake until the time he usually came home from an evening at the Parisienne then left the house and went out into the street, wrapped in the darkness, with a bucket of water in her hand. Hamada approached, cleaving his way through the pitch-dark night. She felt the door of the widow's house open and the woman's blurred outline appeared dimly in the doorway. The man paused and turned toward it. Sadriya hurried into the middle of the road and hurled the water at the woman in the doorway, who screamed and tumbled backward into the house. Hamada was startled. He looked in Sadriya's direction, "Who are you?"

"Get home, you shameless creature!" she shouted enraged.

He was staggering that night. He entered the house in silence then shouted angrily, "I'll show you how savage I can be when I need to."

But in his drunkenness he was overcome by laughter. He collapsed onto the sofa saying, "You're a madwoman like your mother!"

She quarreled with him for a while, then they reverted to friendly relations and bickering, although the matter was not laid entirely to rest until he fell ill. He developed high blood pressure that affected his heart and he had to give up drinking. A general apathy came over him, which in certain guises took on the appearance of wisdom. Then came sorrow; Sadriya lost her daughter, Warda, in the prime of youth, and then lost her father and her sister Matariya. Finally, Hamada died on a visit to his family in Qina. Sadriya remained in Khan Ga'far, refusing to move to her son Aql's house despite his strong devotion to her. When Radia sensed her health was deteriorating she said to Sadriya, "I want you by my side to close my eyes...." Thus, she shut up her house and returned to the house of her birth to be beside her mother, who favored her above everyone. Radia was over a hundred years old and Sadriya was herself approaching ninety, although she was in full possession of her strength and still active. The final days pa.s.sed in a turmoil of memories; her mother recalled songs she had sung in the last quarter of the nineteenth century then pa.s.sed away. Sadriya closed her eyes, wanting to cry but unable to.

Sadiqa Mu'awiya al-Qalyubi The third daughter of Shaykh Mu'awiya and Galila al-Tarabishi, she was born in the old house in Suq al-Zalat half a year after the shaykh was put in prison. She was more beautiful than her two sisters, Radia and Shahira. Indeed, with her fair complexion, rosy cheeks, symmetrical features, ample black hair, and succulent slender body she was an unrivaled beauty in the quarter. In the family she was surpa.s.sed only by Amr and Radia's daughter Matariya, who shared the same roots but was more light-hearted and urbane. She was the only one not to claim her portion of the shaykh's religious upbringing and grew up the pure fruit of Galila's heritage. She was kind toward others and loved singing, justified by a fine voice. Because of her beauty and geniality, she enjoyed the greatest share of Radia's children's affection.

A few years after her father's death and one year after Shahira married, a Syrian dentist resident in the quarter presented himself and she was wedded to him. They moved into a new building in f.a.ggala. It was not long before disaster struck; her husband died before she conceived and she herself contracted tuberculosis. She returned to Galila's arms, seeking warmth and healing. The family's hearts were shaken by her bad luck. Her beauty withered and her life was transformed. Pain a.s.sailed her and there was no hope of recovery. She felt she was sinking into the abyss. She grew tired of the desperation, the suffering, the insomnia, the coughing, and in a moment of dark despair threw herself into the well. Galila screamed and caring neighbors rushed to her side. They extricated her on the point of death. She suffered hours of agony through a long feverish night, surrounded by her mother and sisters, Radia and Shahira, the doorway choked with male relatives and neighbors. After an excruciating struggle she pa.s.sed away shortly before dawn, at the height of youth, despair, and suffering.

Galila grieved for a long time. She ordered a firm wooden lid to be placed over the well and that it never be used again. She dreamed about her daughter from time to time and once said to Radia, "On the night of Sidi al-Sha'rani I saw Sadiqa standing on a white cloud near the well. Her face was bright and she was smiling."

Radia had deep faith in her mother. "Did she speak to you, Mama?" she asked.

"I asked her how she was and she told me that G.o.d had forgiven her for taking her life. She told me this to put my heart at rest," Galila replied.

"Praise G.o.d, the Merciful and Compa.s.sionate," cried Radia.

"I saw her at her most beautiful, like in the old days," said Galila.

Safa Hussein Qabil She was the second child of Samira and Hussein Qabil. She was born and grew up in the house on Ibn Khaldun Street. She suckled in her wholesome, affluent cradle under the protective shade of days of glory and well-being and the lush greenery of al-Zahir Baybars Garden. Samira's children were good looking, healthy, and successful, but Safa was the most beautiful and joyful of all. How she played with and danced for her grandmother Radia and exuded pure warmth everywhere she went. She grew up modest and forbearing and worshiped life above the various principles of her brothers and sisters. Hussein Qabil adored her; to him she was a treasure more beautiful than any he bought or sold. She did well at school and enrolled in the English language department at the faculty of arts. Hussein Qabil died, leaving a deep wound in her heart. She could feel her mother's pain as she adjusted the family to a different standard of living, and a darkness blacker than the darkness of war and air raids settled over her. On her rounds she met her young male relatives from the families of Surur, al-Murakibi, and Dawud but it was Shakir, her uncle Amer's son, who cast the net of interest and admiration over her. He was a medical student and they were able to meet often away from family traditions. Her heart was weaned in his hands and she believed he was the man of the happy future she antic.i.p.ated. She noticed he was keen to shroud their relationship in secrecy but did not grasp the significance. "Who are you afraid of?" she asked him one day.

"Mama!" he replied bluntly, annoyed.

She was surprised at him and his mother and surmised he was not the man he ought to be. One day she returned from college and found her mother dejected and frowning. Knowing the strength of her mother's restraint she realized something was wrong. "Your uncle's wife, Iffat!" Samira said indignantly.

Her heart contracted and she felt her hope disappear.

"She told me categorically that I must keep you away from her son," Samira said.

"But I'm not pursuing him," she cried angrily.

"Close the door with latch and key," Samira said distressed.

There was no way out. No escape from the pain. But why?

"They look down on us," Samira went on. "It was the same for your aunt Matariya before."

"How do they see themselves?" she asked furiously.

"That's nothing to do with us. I want to trust you...."

"You can trust me completely," she said disgusted.

She drank pain and humiliation. However, she had inherited some of her mother's unique personality traits, namely the ability to withstand calamity, and the relationship was severed in disdain.

She graduated and was appointed as a translator in the university administration-thanks to the good offices of senior men on her mother's side. She caught the attention of the a.s.sistant secretary and he asked to marry her. The man was about twenty years older than her but enjoyed high rank and a good income. She weighed up the offer and decided it was perfectly suited to her circ.u.mstances; she realized too that she was more "practical" than she had thought. She was married to Sabri Bey al-Qadi in his villa in al-Qubba Gardens. Her new existence accorded her the life of plenty, doting and generous husband, and motherhood of two sons-Ali and Amr-that she desired. The July Revolution played as it liked with her family, and so her brother Hakim prospered while Salim perished. It was her good fortune that Sabri al-Qadi was related to an important officer so was quickly promoted and appointed to the post of head clerk of the ministry of culture. He was pensioned off in old age but continued to encourage her until she became a director general. She supervised Ali and Amr's education until they entered the diplomatic service. Thus, this branch shone in the diamond era of bureaucracy and was spared the evil of the storms.

Amer Amr Aziz THE FIRST GIFT FROM THE UNKNOWN to flood Amr and Radia's hearts with joy, satisfaction, and pride, Amer confirmed the conviction held in Bayt al-Qadi Square that a boy is better than a girl. He came resplendent with a handsome face that borrowed the best of Radia's features-a straight nose, high forehead, and the fine facial symmetry for which Samira would later be known. His calm nature, piety, and impulse to lead and protect came from his father. How often he would a.s.semble his brothers and sisters on the roof to play at being the Qur'an school shaykh, wielding in his hand a stick that timidity and kindness prevented him using. He grew into a smart and elegant young man who would stroll about the city quarters smiling and musing and sit cross-legged before al-Hussein's tomb in fervent prayer. He was always good at making friends with neighbors of his own cla.s.s and higher ones, and scoundrels could never provoke him. He was also a favorite at the mansion on Khayrat Square and with the Dawud family. He did well at school, excelling in science and mathematics and, thanks to eminent relatives, was granted a remission of fees. Thus, his father was relieved of a burden he could not bear while embroiled in arranging the marriages of Sadriya, Matariya, and Samira. From childhood, Amer and Abd al-Azim Pasha Dawud's daughter Iffat were drawn to one another. It began on the roof in the shade of the hanging washing and, with pa.s.sing days and visits, developed into love and hope for the future. This all took place in secret, but exuded its scent like a rose. Love was the first thing to get the better of the arrogant girl who saw her family as superior, as though G.o.d had created no one but them for n.o.bility.

"We've educated our children in European schools to make them suitable for one of the family's doctors or public prosecutors," Farida Hanem Husam said to Abd al-Azim.

"Amr's my cousin. There's no one more upright than him," said the pasha.

The hanem shared his sentiments. She loved Radia and was particularly fond of Amer so she soon came round. Amr and Radia were delighted. Amr was proud and boastful of his grand relatives and considered a marriage connection with them a great accomplishment. Mahmud Ata Bey had been considering Amer as a husband for Shakira and when the young man fell into the hands of his rival he said to Amr, "Hamid can be Shakira's." With this Amr's happiness was complete, exposing him to his brother, Surur's, reproach. Surur blamed him for ignoring his daughters, but Amr defended his position using the beauty of Surur's daughters, who need not fear being left behind, and the poverty of his own children who needed support, as excuses.

"They wouldn't give you a son," Surur said bitterly.

Amr was hurt but in his modesty simply replied, "Praise G.o.d. A man knows his place."

Surur hid his anger. "Brother, you've become a dervish. You never get angry."

Amer wanted to enter the faculty of medicine resting on his talent for science, so that he might be "suitable" for Iffat in the full sense of the word. But his father chose the teachers college because it was free of charge.

"It's impossible to get a scholarship into medical school. The eye sees but the hand can't provide," he told his beloved son.