Morning and Evening Talk Part 5

Amer was a model of obedience and accepted truths however bitter. He said to his father, feigning approval, "The teachers college is excellent at any rate."

Iffat and her family were forbearing. Iffat told herself a teacher she loved was better than a doctor she didn't. Amer digested his harsh disappointment and proceeded on his path crowned with success and satisfaction. He worshiped the 1919 Revolution along with the rest of his family, took part in the demonstrations, and welcomed Sa'd with an open heart. He was in his final year at the time and working life soon took him away from the immediate action. The marriage was arranged for the following year. He became a guest in his family, in whose hearts he left nothing but goodwill, with the exception of a certain enmity between him and his brother Hamid on account of the latter's rebellious nature and unruly behavior. How many incantations and amulets Radia expended to drive the evil spirit away from the two of them! However, as soon as they began their working lives the murk cleared. Abd al-Azim Dawud built a house for his daughter in Bayn al-Ganayin. He fitted it with electricity, a water supply, drains, and a small garden at the back, and Amer and his Europhile wife moved in to begin a long and happy married life.

The marriage shook Amr's family from the first day. It was quite clear that the new wife was of a different species to Amer's sisters as she had graduated from La Mere de Dieu, spoke several languages, was a skilled piano player, and knew all about France, its history and its religion, and almost nothing about her own country's heritage or beliefs. Moreover, she prided herself on this in spite of the spirit of nationalism unleashed with the 1919 Revolution. Her strong, overpowering personality swallowed her meek, gentle husband's and the young man did not dare remind her that fasting was a duty in Ramadan; he fasted alone and prepared his own meal before daybreak. She also dazzled him with her unintelligible conversation and skill at the piano. When Adli's supporters came out against Sa'd Zaghloul, Amer found himself a foreigner in the Dawud family. He avoided disturbing the peace in defense of his latent Wafdism and kept it to himself. Iffat had no serious interest in politics, though she went along with her father out of loyalty. "There's no comparison between the n.o.ble Adli Pasha and your Azharite leader!" she would tell her husband. But Amer would smile and spurn the quarrel.

Once Abd al-Azim Dawud asked him, "Do you really believe we can bear the burden of independence?"

"Why not?" he asked.

"We thought about full independence but we would be lost and merciless without the British Protectorate," Abd al-Azim replied.

Although close friends with Farida Hanem and an admirer of Iffat's beauty, Radia was angered by Iffat's superiority and Amer's submission.

"A man should be master of his house," she said to her son.

"Iffat fancies herself a princess," she said to Amr.

"Don't stir Amer into something that will spoil his happiness," her husband advised. Radia was won over in the end, especially after Iffat gave birth to Shakir, Qadri, and Fayyid, whom she loved with all her heart. Amer and Iffat's firm love overcame any differences and their partnership represented a rare example of happy matrimony: a marriage that knew no ennui, relapse, speculation, or jealousy.

"The secret of my brother's happiness is that he's dissolved in his wife's will. What a price to pay," said Hamid.

Surur Effendi said to his wife, Zaynab, with typical contempt and bitterness, "Hamid has married a man and Iffat has married a woman."

Amer was as successful in his career as he was in his marriage. He was the students' favorite teacher, the one who influenced them the most, and one of the few who retain for life memories of those they have taught over the generations. He profited from this, for he increased his income with private lessons and overcame a number of obstacles through the influence of certain former students. As for the zenith of his fortunes, it came after the July Revolution when two of his students found themselves in the council of leaders. Iffat abhorred the revolution because it negated her brother's pasha rank. She could not forgive it for its contempt of high-ranking professions like medicine and law. But thanks to his two students, Amer felt he was one of its men, despite the Wafdist sympathies he suppressed among the Dawud family.

Amer's children brought him no less happiness than his marriage did. They were talented and successful, although they caused their parents more trouble than they imagined through their personal behavior and politics. Then everything settled down and Amer entered a quarter century of retirement in a house that became a model of companionship in old age just as it had been one of happiness in love. He kept his health and vitality. He read newspapers and magazines, listened to music, and watched television. Because he was in good health while his wife's health declined, he did the ch.o.r.es and supervised the servants and cooking himself. He would play with the grandchildren or, p.r.i.c.ked by nostalgia, would drive out to the old quarter with one of his children and visit the old house where Qasim lived, pray at al-Hussein's tomb, sit for an hour at al-Fishawi, dine at al-Dahhan then return to Bayn al-Ganayin intoxicated and joyful. He lived until he was nearly ninety, and so he rejoiced at the July glories, was burned by June 5, recovered on May 15, rejoiced once more on the resounding October 5, then was dejected on the b.l.o.o.d.y October 6. He departed the world in enviable calm, like a happy ending. He woke up one morning at the usual time and went to the kitchen to prepare tea for himself and Iffat. He returned to drink it in bed and when he finished the gla.s.s he said, "My heart doesn't feel right." He lay down on his back to rest and before long his head turned on the pillow, as though he was nodding off to sleep.

Abd al-Azim Dawud Yazid He was the only child of Dawud Pasha and Saniya al-Warraq who lived. He grew up in Bayt al-Sayyida and received an urbane upbringing from a hanem mother and a father who was counted among the elite of his day. From childhood, he mixed with his relatives in the old quarter and was particularly fond of his cousin Amr. But he mixed with another kind of people too: the European a.s.sociates of his father, who often dined and exchanged toasts at his table. He flitted between tradition and modernity, but religion played in his life only a fraction of the role it played in his close friend Amr's. He was lean, dark skinned, good looking, and had a large head, fine mind, and a lot of ambition. He did well at school, then enrolled in the faculty of law. His father had hoped to make a doctor of him, but he liked rhetoric and belles lettres and specialized in law, in keeping with other sons of eminent men. He was appointed to the public prosecutor's office without his father's intervention and from the first day claimed the respect of his superiors, the English in particular.

He was perhaps the first to choose a wife on one sighting. He caught a glimpse of Farida Husam in the family carriage and was attracted by her fair complexion and elegant features, so he found out the name of the family. Saniya al-Warraq, Radia, and Rashwana went to visit the distinguished family and reported back that Husam was a wealthy Syrian silk merchant. Farida was wedded to Abd al-Azim in a villa on Sarayat Road, bringing with her fresh beauty, wealth, and a pleasant readiness for married life. As the days pa.s.sed, she gave birth to Lutfi, Gha.s.san, Halim, Fahima, and Iffat. Abd al-Azim excelled in his work and was interested in politics. He was a supporter of the Umma Party and was friends with prominent men, and he believed in the Watani Party drivel. His heart blazed with enthusiasm for the 1919 Revolution, but when the front split, he inclined with heart and mind to Adli Yakan and his companions. He saw his cousin Amr's confusion and laughed uproariously.

"You're bewitched by the great buffoon."

"He's the leader of the nation and its hope," said Amr.

Amr would feel the warm bond between him and Abd al-Azim when his cousin visited him in Bayt al-Qadi. But when he went to the villa on Sarayat Road he felt lost in the "European" atmosphere that governed behavior and customs there, including Abd al-Azim Pasha's habit of whetting his appet.i.te with two gla.s.ses of whisky and sometimes speaking to his two daughters, Fahima and Iffat, in French. Mahmud Ata al-Murakibi ingratiated himself with the pasha, keen to strengthen relations with him despite the hidden rivalry between their two families. In truth, Abd al-Azim Pasha did not particularly like the man but would exchange visits out of respect for his cousin Amr. Mahmud Bey once sought to use Abd al-Azim's influence in one of his many lawsuits but Abd al-Azim frowned and spoke frankly, "You evidently have no idea about the probity of the law." Mahmud Bey's work inspired him to believe that slogans were one thing, reality something else, so was shocked by his friend's antipathy and cursed him privately. However, he found himself on the same side as the pasha after the political schism. Seeking to make light of their differences, he said, "Allegiance to the Crown or the English, it's all the same."

"It isn't allegiance to the English, just friendship," said Abd al-Azim.

"Isn't the Crown preferable?"

"The Crown's loyalty resides with the English. We're calling for the Const.i.tution."

"But the Const.i.tution would deliver government to Sa'd."

"Maybe to him and them."

"He charms the people with his call for total independence. How do you stand on that?"

"The fools don't know the meaning of independence. Independence is an enormous responsibility. Where would we find the money for defense?" said the man shaking his large head. "Wouldn't it be better to leave that to the English and dedicate ourselves to reform?"

"You're right," said Mahmud Bey enthusiastically. "Zaghloul's independence could lead to another Urabi Revolution."

Abd al-Aziz's eldest son, Lutfi, fulfilled his hopes, unlike Gha.s.san and Halim. Nevertheless, Abd al-Azim was generally considered a lucky father. Lutfi almost went astray when he inclined to Amr's daughter, Matariya, but G.o.d was merciful, although Abd al-Azim was sad to take a stand against the daughter of his dear friend. As the days went by, he was appointed to important posts in the judiciary and was head of the High Court of Appeals when he drew his pension. His vitality enabled him to work as a lawyer until the 1950s then retire in old age. He did not sit still though; he would go each evening to the Luna Park Coffee House to play backgammon with the imperialists of his generation. By the July Revolution he had pa.s.sed the age of worrying. He developed an acute burning in his prostate, was taken to hospital, and died two days later.

Abduh Mahmud Ata al-Murakibi He was born and grew up in the mansion on Khayrat Square, the third child of Mahmud Bey and Nazli Hanem. He was characterized by good looks and n.o.bility from childhood. He was raised in an atmosphere of grandeur and taught the principles of morality, culture, and piety at the hands of his beautiful, urbane mother. He grew up with a general aversion for socializing and though he knew his relatives from Amr, Surur, and Rashwana's families, he did not make friends with any of them. He was fond of sports and excelled at swimming in particular. He also loved reading. He did well at school, which qualified him to enroll in the faculty of engineering, and when he graduated from there after the treaty, he joined the engineering division of the army. He began to diverge from his family's political line and did not side with the Crown like his father and uncle. Instead, like his relative Hakim Hussein Qabil, he joined the restless generation, angry at everything and searching for something new. His mother suggested he take a wife from the Mawardi family, a family of feudal lords, so he married. He rented an elegant apartment in Zamalek for his bride, but the marriage was childless and unsuccessful; its only benefit consisted in what he learned about himself. It became apparent that in spite of his wealth he could not bear parting with money; it pained him to sacrifice a piaster unnecessarily or without forethought and planning. His wife, Gulistan, adored pomp, social life, and showing off her stunning appearance, but Abduh was completely unable to give up his customs and habits. Bitterness entrapped them and made their lives an unbearable h.e.l.l.

"You weren't created for partnership," his wife told him frankly.

"I absolutely agree," he replied, fumbling for his escape route.

She vacated the marital home and waited for the divorce. The issue was studied at the highest levels and Abduh found support for his position with his parents, or at least clear opposition to Gulistan's lifestyle. "I'm not in favor of divorce but in certain circ.u.mstances it's necessary and can't be avoided," said Mahmud Bey.

The divorce took place, but entailed considerable material loss with the settlement and expenses and prompted the young man to take a stand toward marriage that he would maintain for the rest of his life. He returned to his handsome room on the second floor of the mansion on Khayrat Square and devoted his energies to work and diverse reading. He, his sister Nadira, and his brother Mahir were similar in temperament, and the two brothers joined the Free Officers Movement at the appropriate time. When the July Revolution came, they found themselves in the second rank. Mahmud Bey had died by this point and they were able to save their inheritance from the grasp of the agricultural reforms. Abduh was appointed to a leading post in the army's engineering branch and, after the Setback, was entrusted with charge of a metal company as a reward for his continued loyalty to Abdel Na.s.ser. Though he was deeply affected by the defeat of June 5, he was among those who saw the loss of land as insignificant in comparison to the country's psychological victory in preserving the leadership of Abdel Na.s.ser and the socialist regime. He naturally regretted his brother Mahir's dismissal for allegiance to Abd al-Hakim Amer, just as he had previously regretted his older brother Hakim's pensioning off, but he could always find comfort in his mantra: "The country must come first."

He became dispensable in the time of President Sadat, so retired to his house and land. With the infitah policy he set up an engineering office with some of his colleagues and became excessively rich. He never left the mansion where he was born, nor the characteristics that had destined him for solitude. He continued to live simply despite his wealth, convinced he was ama.s.sing his money for others.

Adnan Ahmad Ata al-Murakibi He was born and grew up in the Murakibi family mansion on Khayrat Square and learned the principles of an urbane upbringing and piety in the arms of luxury. Despite growing up with a peaceable, gentle-hearted father and a hanem mother of great dignity and morals (Fawziya Hanem, the sister of Nazli), he resembled his tyrant uncle Mahmud Bey most of all with his obstinacy and love of power. Of his generation he was the most loving to his other relatives-Amr, Surur, and Rashwana-and the most attached to the old quarter. From the beginning, he rebelled inwardly against his tyrant uncle, who imposed authority over the mansion, including his brother Ahmad's family. He had barely reached adolescence before he let it be known that he found his uncle's guardianship and monopoly on managing the land as if it was his exclusive property loathsome. He asked his mother the reason behind it but she just said, "Your father is content with things this way."

So he turned to his father and argued about it until he ruined his father's repose.

"The situation is a disgrace!" he said plainly.

He carried on until he had wrenched his father from his paradise. Events came to pa.s.s and the quarrel that would divide the respectable family into two hostile factions began; brother disowned brother, sister disowned sister, and cousin disowned cousin. Adnan challenged his uncle, who spat in his face, and exchanged blows with Hasan in the mansion's garden. A black cloud settled over the family and continued to obscure light and warmth until Ahmad Bey's death. Ahmad Bey a.s.sumed management of his land, knowing nothing of what it entailed. Losses inevitably ensued, until Adnan completed his agricultural studies and rushed to Beni Suef to take over the work from his father and save him from ruin.

In contrast to his brothers and cousins, Adnan was enamored of country girls. He fell in love with a thirty-five-year-old widow when he was not yet thirty himself and announced his wish to marry her, with no regard for his mother's anxiety. He fulfilled his wish, brought Sitt Tahani to visit the mansion, and then took her home to the farm. She gave birth to Fu'ad and Faruq then stopped having children. Whenever she grew tired of the countryside she would travel to Cairo and make life difficult for Fawziya Hanem. When the July Revolution came, Adnan-for various reasons-was the only one to whom the agriculture reform laws applied. Like his father and uncle, he pledged allegiance to the Crown and hated the revolution, though he did not say or do anything that might risk offense. Fu'ad became an excellent farmer like his father and a.s.sisted him but Faruq was a failure at school and got involved in countryside crimes until he was shot one day leaving the mosque after Friday prayers. Adnan was delighted at the Tripart.i.te Aggression but his joy relapsed. He delighted even more on June 5, and his happiness became complete in September 1970. When Sadat a.s.sumed power his sense of loyalty to a leader returned. His heart rejoiced at Sadat's victory on October 6 and at the peace. As for the infitah policy, he considered it a gate into paradise. He farmed sheep, chickens, and eggs and made huge illusory profits. He was still not satisfied, however, so he joined the Watani Party and was elected to the People's a.s.sembly.

Aziz Yazid al-Misri He was born and grew up on the first floor of the house in al-Ghuriya in the shadow of Bab al-Mutawalli, the first child of Yazid al-Misri and Farga al-Sayyad. The couple produced two sons and four daughters but the daughters all died in the cradle, leaving only Aziz and Dawud. The boys enjoyed good health and grew up promising strength alongside their good looks and distinct features. They took as their playground the area between the gate and the paper supplier where their father was treasurer, on a road in Gamaliya that brimmed with people, animals, and handcarts and was surrounded by mosques and minarets. The French invasion came and went before the brothers were fully conscious, and so Napoleon Bonaparte pa.s.sed them by as a radish or doum palm seller might. When Aziz was old enough, Yazid al-Misri said in his Alexandrian accent, "It's time for Qur'an school."

"No. Send him to my mother at the market," Farga al-Sayyad protested.

"It was learning to read and write that got me my job at the paper supplier," Yazid replied.

Farga believed in the market from which she came but could not change his mind. At the Shurbini Coffee Shop, Shaykh al-Qalyubi praised his decision.

"Excellent decision! Qur'an school then al-Azhar," he said.

The third friend, Ata al-Murakibi, sought refuge in silence. Ata al-Murakibi lived on the second floor of the house in al-Ghuriya with his wife, Sakina Gal'ad al-Mughawiri, and newborn daughter, Ni'ma. The three men had got to know one another at Ata al-Murakibi's shop in al-Salihiya and began meeting at the Shurbini Coffee Shop in Darb al-Ahmar to drink ginger tea and smoke hashish. Shaykh al-Qalyubi was a teacher at al-Azhar and invited the other two for dinner at his house in Suq al-Zalat several times. They saw his young son, Mu'awiya, playing between the well and stove. "Will you send him to al-Azhar after Qur'an school?" asked Ata al-Murakibi.

"G.o.d does as he wishes," said Yazid.

However, in matters of religion Yazid was, like his friend Ata, content with performing the prescribed duties and had no aspirations beyond that. Aziz began to attend Qur'an school and was soon joined by Dawud. They memorized parts of the Qur'an and learned the principles of reading, writing, and arithmetic. During this time, Dawud fell into the snare of the education program while Aziz was spared by a miracle for which he thanked G.o.d all his life. Dawud's life followed its course; meanwhile, when Aziz was old enough to work, Shaykh al-Qalyubi took steps on his behalf at the office of religious endowments and he was appointed watchman over Bayn al-Qasrayn's public fountain. He dressed in a gallabiya, pantofles, and a cotton cloak in summer, or a woolen one in winter, but swapped his turban for a tarboosh and was jokingly referred to around the quarter as Aziz Effendi, a name that stuck for life. It was settled that he would receive a millieme for every good turn. "G.o.d has granted you an important position," Yazid said to him.

His only cause for regret in those days was his brother's bad luck. His sorrow was compounded when it was decided that Dawud would be sent to France. He asked his friend, Shaykh al-Mu'awiya, who had replaced Shaykh al-Qalyubi at al-Azhar when the elder retired in old age, "What did Dawud do wrong, Shaykh Mu'awiya?"

"Not all infidel learning is heresy. Nor is living in an infidel country. Let G.o.d take care of your brother," the shaykh replied.

Aziz entered the furnace of adolescence and, despite his piety, began to stray. "We must marry him," Yazid said to Farga.

"Your friend Ata's daughter, Ni'ma, is pleasant and suitable."

The girl was wedded to Aziz at his father's house in al-Ghuriya. Two years later his friend Shaykh Mu'awiya married Galila al-Tarabishi at the house in Suq al-Zalat. Yazid al-Misri and Farga lived to see the births of Rashwana, Amr, and Surur, then Yazid died at work at the paper supplier. He was buried in the enclosure he built near the tomb of Sidi Nagm al-Din after he dreamed he saw the master inviting him to be beside him. Farga al-Sayyad joined him a year later. Significant events took place: Ni'ma's mother, Sakina, died; Ata al-Murakibi married the rich widow who lived on the top floor of the house opposite the shop and suddenly moved into a higher cla.s.s. He built a mansion on Khayrat Square and purchased a farm in Beni Suef. He fathered Mahmud and Ahmad in old age and began a new life as though he was in a dream. Aziz Effendi found himself related by marriage to an important n.o.bleman while his wife, Ni'ma, found herself the daughter of a grandee. Tongues wagged with the tale of Ata al-Murakibi, his luck, and how his rich wife melted under his wing. Yet neither Ni'ma nor her family enjoyed the benefits, with the exception of a few presents on festivals.

"If the wife dies before the husband, he and his sons will be beneficiaries and your wife will be too. But if he dies first your wife won't get anything," Shaykh Mu'awiya said to his friend Aziz.

Ata and Aziz's families exchanged visits and Amr, Surur, and Rashwana played with Mahmud and Ahmad. Aziz would run his eyes over the garden and objets d'art and mutter to himself, "Glory be to the Bestower of graces, the Giver."

"He's a boor and doesn't deserve such blessings," he said to his friend, Shaykh Mu'awiya.

"G.o.d has reasons," replied the shaykh.

Meanwhile, Dawud returned from France as a doctor, married al-Warraq's granddaughter, took up residence in a house in al-Sayyida, and brought Abd al-Azim into the world. Aziz Effendi educated his two sons, Amr and Surur, then Amr was appointed to the ministry of education and Surur to the railways. Rashwana married Sadiq Barakat, the flour merchant in al-Khurnfush. She was wedded to him in his house in Bayn al-Qasrayn. Amr married Shaykh Mu'awiya's oldest daughter, Radia, and Surur married Zaynab al-Naggar. The brothers moved into two adjacent houses on Bayt al-Qadi Square. When the Urabi Revolution came, Aziz supported it with all his heart, but Shaykh Mu'awiya supported it with his heart and his tongue and was incarcerated when the revolution was quashed.

Amr and Radia's marriage took place in the period following the shaykh's release, but the shaykh was not permitted to attend the wedding ceremony for he died a week after the engagement was announced and the opening sura read. Aziz Effendi was blessed with good health, longevity, and a happy marriage and did not suffer poverty or deprivation. He enjoyed close family ties with his relatives on Khayrat Square and in al-Sayyida and Suq al-Zalat. His children venerated him just as he rejoiced in their education, entry into government service, and sporting of suits and tarbooshes. As the days pa.s.sed, he began to take pride in his younger brother's status and rank, especially once he was confident of his faith, observance of religious duties, and loyalty; that their two families could sit together around the table whenever he visited; and that they could walk together around al-Hussein and al-Qarafa. G.o.d was kind to him. He witnessed the birth of his grandchildren and was afforded a chaste departure at the end, for he died kneeling on his prayer mat one morning in autumn at home in al-Ghuriya. He was buried next to his father in the family enclosure, which later became known as "The Enclosure of Nagm al-Din."

Iffat Abd al-Azim Pasha She was born and grew up in the family villa on Sarayat Road in East Abbasiya. She was the last of Abd al-Azim Pasha Dawud and Farida Husam's offspring after Lutfi, Gha.s.san, Halim, and Fahima. Iffat was born for great beauty. Blending her Syrian mother's fairness and father's tanned complexion, her cheeks were rosy and wheat-colored while a look of dominion and cunning could be detected in her black almond eyes. She lived comfortably in the elegant villa surrounded by rank and medals, and so, like other members of her family, got up onto feet rooted firmly in pride, superiority, and conceit. From the start, her father did not want his daughters to be illiterate, or near illiterate, like the girls in other branches of the family. Nor did he view their education as a preliminary to a career, which was how he saw it for the daughters of the poor among the general public. He therefore elected to give them a sophisticated education that he believed would set them up to marry eminent men. He found what he was looking for in the European schools, more particularly La Mere de Dieu. Iffat studied French, English, belles lettres, home economics, and music. Her soul was imbued with foreign tradition so that in taste, mentality, and heritage she appeared European to the observer. Although she never uttered a word to dishonor Islam, she knew nothing of her religion or history, and although she lived through the 1919 Revolution, she displayed no affiliation to her country other than some superficial enthusiasm for her father's political position born out of pride and family sentiment.

Yet her natural impulses revolted against all this, for from childhood her heart inclined to Amer, a relative on her father's side. In those days family ties meant more than cla.s.s, status, rank, and fortune. Visits to Bayt al-Qadi, with their unusual scenes, peasant food, and Radia's mysteries, were enjoyable excursions for the Dawud family, though their sense of superiority never left them. Amer and Iffat's mutual affection thus met no opposition, indeed was welcomed, in Abd al-Azim's house. Expectations for daughters were, in any case, different to expectations for sons: the Dawud family could give a daughter to an acceptable son from Amr's family, but if a son coveted one of Amr or Surur's daughters, it const.i.tuted a serious aberration and had to be firmly suppressed. Amr's gentle manners allowed him to tolerate such a position and he looked for reasons to excuse it. It did not, however, escape the vicious tongue of Surur, who was consequently not as close to hearts in al-Murakibi or Dawud's families. When the need arose he would comment ironically, "How come the great family of Ata has forgotten the pantofles and the shop in al-Salihiya? How come Dawud's family has forgotten Uncle Yazid and Farga al-Sayyad?"

When the time came for Iffat to marry, the pasha had a beautiful house in Bayn al-Ganayin built, where she turned to meet the happy married life that would shatter the theories of its opponents. True, from the beginning she behaved like a princess whom circ.u.mstances had placed amid the herd, and the new setup created certain tensions between her and Amer's sisters, Surur's daughters, Shakira when she became her sister-in-law, and even Radia herself despite her friendship with Farida Husam. But the quarrels never reached the point of rupture or enmity; traditional bonds of friendship always triumphed. As for the married couple, they lived in sweetness and peace. Amer submitted fully to his beloved's strong will; he seldom raised an angry voice and they never argued. Iffat gave birth to Shakir, Qadri, and Fayyid but she was not able to extend the umbrella of her authority over them. Shakir hurt her pride and Qadri aroused her fear and anxiety. Yet the three were good examples of n.o.bility and success. The July Revolution came, then successive defeats, then victory and peace, then clouds of strife and crime gathered once more. Meanwhile, Iffat sought refuge in the fort of the observer and let none of this worry her except insofar as her family and children were directly affected. She grew old and her arrogant tendencies calmed. Despite the stream of events, she lived happily with the love of her life, children, and grandchildren until Amer disappeared from her world in a blink of an eye, in the middle of a conversation. Thereafter, her life was silent and overshadowed with constant gloom.

Ata al-Murakibi He started out as a boy in the shop of the Moroccan Gal'ad al-Mughawiri in al-Salihiya. The man scooped him up as an orphan, raised him, and gave him lodgings in the shop. The boy proved himself capable and trustworthy and stayed with his master until he was an able-bodied adolescent of medium height with burly features and a large head. Gal'ad married him to his only daughter, Sakina, and made him his deputy in the shop. He moved in with him at the house in al-Ghuriya, as neighbors of Yazid and his son, Aziz. When Gal'ad and his wife died, Sakina became the legal owner of the shop but in effect it pa.s.sed to Ata. He wore the gentle manners of a merchant over his coa.r.s.e features so was able to make friends with Yazid and Shaykh al-Qalyubi. Sakina was moderately pretty but her body was worn down with frailty and she did not conceive for some time. Then, after a difficult delivery that nearly cost her life, she gave birth to Ni'ma. Ni'ma inherited her mother's wide black eyes, soft brown skin, and abundant chestnut hair, and she was healthy too. Sakina was a good neighbor and won Farga al-Sayyad's affection, paving the way for Ni'ma's marriage to Aziz at the appropriate time.

Each night, Shaykh al-Qalyubi, Yazid, and Ata would meet at the Shurbini Coffee Shop in Darb al-Ahmar. The men watched Napoleon Bonaparte lead his troops past the shrine of al-Hussein on his horse and lived through his campaign's vicissitudes, including the two Cairo uprisings. Yazid was nearly killed in the second. They witnessed Muhammad Ali's rule, the Mamluk ma.s.sacre, and the upheaval the leader brought the country and its people. Though Shaykh al-Qalyubi was distinguished by his religious education, his tight bond to his people and heritage meant he was close to his two companions sentimentally. He was conscious of their greed and ignorance but ignored people's deficiencies and satisfied himself with their amicable side and friendship. He invited them to his house in Suq al-Zalat on several occasions, though only once was he invited back to the house in al-Ghuriya. He preferred Yazid to Ata, for he saw in the former the fundamentals of chivalry, integrity, and piety, which the other lacked. Nevertheless, he never tired of Ata or considered spurning him. Ata carried on content and amiable until his wife, Sakina, died, a year after their daughter Ni'ma married Yazid's son Aziz. He then surprised the whole quarter by marrying the rich widow, Huda al-Alawzi. She lived in the old house opposite the pantofle shop; did this tale then have the usual preface with no one noticing?

"Things will change," al-Qalyubi said to Yazid. "Huda Hanem will not be happy for her husband to remain in the shop."

Ata began to think with the head of a manager who had not yet had the opportunity to use his talents. He consulted rich influential neighbors and skilled Jews about his affairs and promptly purchased land and began building the great mansion on Khayrat Square. As time pa.s.sed, he bought a farm in Beni Suef too and had a country mansion built there. Huda Hanem al-Alawzi gave birth to Mahmud and Ahmad. Ata started studying farming and cementing relations with his new neighbors. Wealth unveiled his hidden talents and strength of character, as it did his greed, miserliness, and endless hunger for money. Contrary to expectations, he imposed total authority on his wife and those he dealt with, until Shaykh al-Qalyubi compared him to the leader who came to Egypt as a simple soldier and turned into a giant at the vortex of a vast empire, though the emperor of Beni Suef was not half as bad as Napoleon.

His relations with his old friends weakened but he never stopped visiting Ni'ma and Aziz in al-Ghuriya. He would descend on the quarter in his carriage, ignoring looks of envy and proffering occasional gifts on festival days. He would invite the family to the mansion on Khayrat Square, so Rashwana, Amr, and Surur became good friends with Mahmud and Ahmad. However, there were always limits to his expressions of generosity and his two sons were probably more sympathetic to their poor sister, Ni'ma, than Ata was himself. He naturally sent his sons to school but, like their cousins Amr and Surur, they ran out of breath with the primary school certificate. This did not especially bother Ata and he began preparing them to farm beside him. He was delighted by Mahmud's keen response and steel character, but Ahmad dashed his hopes and in the end he left him in despair at his docile ways. Bakri al-Arshi, the head of the Mamluk family on the next-door farm, had two daughters, Nazli and Fawziya, equal in beauty and sophistication. Ata requested they marry his sons, Mahmud and Ahmad, and the marriages were celebrated in a joint wedding feast brought to life by Abduh al-Hamuli and Almuz.

Ata lived through the Urabi Revolution. His emotions were not conquered via nationalism but by way of land and money. So when the waves of the revolution rose high and he was sure of its victory, he announced support and donated money, hiding the pain this caused him, and when hostile forces a.s.sailed it and its failure glimmered on the horizon he declared allegiance to the khedive. When the British Occupation began he was gripped once more by anxiety over events whose effect on his land he did not know, but his father-in-law, Bakri al-Arshi, a.s.sured him, "The English won't leave the country and we won't leave the British Empire in our lifetime."

When he felt he was approaching the end he said to his son Mahmud, "Here's some advice that is more valuable than money. Consider the farm your country and devote all your heart to it. Beware of sermons and slogans."

Ata died of old age and his wife joined him a month later. Mahmud and Ahmad inherited the entire fortune and Aziz and Ni'ma's hope was forever extinguished.

Aql Hamada al-Qinawi Khan Ga'far was where he was born and Bayt al-Qadi, Bayn al-Qasrayn, Watawit, Ibn Khaldun, East Abbasiya, Bayn al-Ganayin, and Khayrat Square were where he played, wandered, made friends, and loved. He was the second child of Sadriya and Hamada al-Qinawi, borrowing his beautiful eyes from his mother and his flat nose and st.u.r.dy body from his father, though he was not very tall. His father loved him dearly and hallowed him with great glory as the heir apparent. The man watched happily and proudly as his son achieved in school and abundantly compensated for his own ignorance and illiteracy. From childhood, Aql was interested in religion and engineering. He enrolled in the faculty of engineering but continued his religious readings and was also drawn to Islamic philosophy. He was swept away in a current of conflicting ideas and remained in a state of confusion all his life.

As he roved about the branches of the family he was attracted to his aunt Samira's daughter Hanuma. He wanted her reserved for him but the girl said to her mother, "He is obviously shorter than me. He isn't suitable!" He was shocked and his limbs blazed with anger. Despite his doubts, he continued to pray and fast a.s.siduously; he could not be confident but refused not to believe and sought refuge in his religious duties. Doubt suffused his very being and he could not connect with anything. He watched the decline of the Wafd, detested the abstruseness of the Marxists, and held the duplicitous Misr al-Fatah in contempt. He eschewed the July Revolution, though the sentiment had nothing to do with the opposition of the landowning cla.s.s, the cla.s.s to which he ultimately belonged. He was very sad about his sister, Warda, and father. When he graduated he found a job in an engineering office and began thinking seriously about marriage. Perhaps it would deliver him from the emptiness that suffocated him. He liked Hikmat, his brother-in-law's sister, so proposed to her and married her. They moved into an apartment in a small building near his uncle Amer's house in Bayn al-Ganayin. He desperately wanted children, as did his father's relatives, but it became apparent he was sterile. He was deeply saddened and pained. "Don't trust doctors and don't despair of G.o.d's mercy," said his grandmother Radia.

Life stood before him in the image of unattainable desires: always sweet and insurmountable. When there was no one left in the family house and Sadriya was all on her own, he said to her, "You know I'm devoted to you. Come and live with us in Bayn al-Ganayin."

But his mother replied smiling, "I won't leave al-Hussein or your grandmother."

He strove harder to perform his religious duties and reap the fruit of his talents as an engineer. One day he said to his wife, Hikmat, "I don't want you to spend a day with me that you don't want to."

She frowned for a minute then said, "I am completely happy, praise G.o.d."

Doubts about the future of his relationship with his wife began to a.s.sail him. He was also possessed by concerns about the future of his country, which was moving from one crisis to the next. He did not breathe easily again until Sadat's time. He found in the infitah policy a great commercial opportunity that made him forget his doubts and misgivings. He chose property as his business arena, using his savings and the sale of his portion of his father's property. He made an immense amount of money and worked with remarkable energy until he was over sixty. At that point he asked himself, "Now what?"

He thought for a long time then said to Hikmat, "I'm bored of working. It's time we enjoyed our money."

"What do you lack?" she asked guilelessly.

He laughed sarcastically. "Travel. We must travel," he said. "We'll see the world and taste its delights."

She was bewildered. She knew nothing of the world beyond her father's village and Bayn al-Ganayin, nor did she have any desire to. When he saw her confusion he said, "With me you won't need a translator."

He said to himself: If she hates the idea I'll go alone. But as usual she obeyed him. She began packing suitcases. A spark of doubt shot out from his belly and he examined his surroundings for a while. The airplane will probably burst into flames. I know how these things work! he said to himself. But the airplane did not burst into flames. Nor did his misgivings abate.

Amr Aziz Yazid al-Misri He was born and grew up in the house in al-Ghuriya with Rashwana and Surur. He took the essence of the quarter into his heart, lovingly and eagerly, thus Egyptian peasant traditions swaggered in his soul and his sleeves exuded their spirit and religion. He was probably the dearest of the three to Aziz and Ni'ma, as he resembled his father in his well-proportioned body, wheat-colored skin, and wide clear eyes. He was the sensible one, steering and checking Surur and Rashwana as they played and wandered between Bab al-Mutawalli and the fountain of Bayn al-Qasrayn. Later he became known for his wisdom and was consulted on all kinds of matters. He enjoyed a similar status among his uncles, Mahmud and Ahmad, and his cousin Abd al-Azim. He faithfully performed his religious duties from childhood and played the role of policeman in Surur's frequent outbursts. He entered Qur'an school, memorized what he could from the Holy Qur'an, and learned the principles of reading and writing. At the age of twelve he started primary school and, after much strain and effort, obtained the primary school certificate. With Dawud Pasha's help he was appointed a bookkeeper in the ministry of education.

He always earned the respect of his superiors and colleagues. He enriched his life with friendships, enlightened it reading the Qur'an and writings of the saints, and varied his sphere of activity through generosity that exuded love of religion and the world. Thus, he attended Sufi gatherings in al-Sanadiqiya, listened to al-Hamuli at weddings, and met his good friends at the Misri Club. He was peaceful by nature, achieving through clemency what could not be achieved through force or anger. The moment his father p.r.o.nounced marriage a good idea he gave it the welcome of a robust and pious young man. The choice fell on Radia, the eldest daughter of his father's friend Shaykh Mu'awiya. She was wedded to him in a newly built house on Bayt al-Qadi Square. It was the beginning of a successful and prosperous marriage. Radia was his opposite. She was nervous and stubborn and her mysteries were unrestrained; were it not for his peaceful nature and clemency, things would not have proceeded along the same peaceful course with his dignity at home remaining intact. He did not escape Radia's influence, however, for he believed in her heritage and popular medicine and was obliged to let her visit saints' tombs, even if he would have preferred her to stay in the house like his brother's wife, Zaynab, and the hanem wives of Mahmud, Ahmad, and Abd al-Azim. "They are all nice hanems but they are ignorant and have no hand in matters of the Unknown," Radia told him haughtily.

At the same time, she made his house an abode of mercy and love and gave birth to Sadriya, Amer, Matariya, Samira, Habiba, Hamid, and Qasim. Unlike Surur, Amr took pride in his relatives: the mansion on Khayrat Square, the villa on Sarayat Road, the land, money, and rank; and his house enjoyed everyone's affection accordingly. Carriage after carriage came by, transporting to him the n.o.bles and hanems of Beni Suef and the family of Dawud Pasha with its hanems. They would sit around Amr's table, shower him with gifts, take pleasure in Radia's quirks and heritage, and commend the bravery of her father, the hero of the Urabi Revolution. It was these profound friendships that opened the door of marriage into the families of Ata and Dawud, elevating and strengthening Amr's status and provoking dissension between him and Surur, which could have ruined their relationship, were it not for solid foundations and long memories. Surur often commented regretfully, "If Huda al-Alawzi had died before Ata al-Murakibi we would have inherited!"

"G.o.d's will is unopposed," Amr would reply.

He surmounted any such twinges with his tolerant faith and it was his habit, when feeling resentful, to remind himself of the many blessings granted him, like good health and children. True, the day Dawud's family smothered Lutfi's affection for Matariya he erupted in anger and let Radia rant, saying to himself: They aren't wrong when they say relatives are scorpions! But it was a cloud that quickly dissolved under the beams of an eternal sun.

His heart was also full of patriotism. He was too young to share his father's disappointment at the demise of the Urabi Revolution, but he often watched the occupying troops circling the old quarter like tourists and his heart was soon br.i.m.m.i.n.g with the speeches of Mustafa Kamil and Muhammad Farid. His excitement reached a climax with the 1919 Revolution; he adored its leader and joined in the civil servants' strike. He remained loyal to the leader even when his important relatives, Mahmud, Ahmad, and Abd al-Azim, broke away, and eagerly followed the leader's successor, Mustafa al-Nahhas, by dishing out cups of sherbet the day the treaty was signed. Amr wholeheartedly supported the leader against the new king and, despite the weak heart that was soon to kill him, was angry when he was discharged from government service.

He bore his children's burdens while they were in his care and shared in their worries once they had each settled in their own homes. "We always dream of rest but there's no rest in life," he would say. He sought refuge in his faith and left mankind to the Creator. How many hopes he had pinned on Qasim and to what effect? When he was pensioned off a melancholy spread over him. Heart disease descended out of nowhere, curbing his movements and pleasures and plunging him into the depths of depression. One evening, sitting in the Misri Club, he fell unconscious. He was carried to his bed dying and pa.s.sed away in Radia's arms a little before dawn.

Gha.s.san Abd al-Azim Dawud HE WAS BORN AND GREW UP IN THE VILLA on Sarayat Road, the second child of Abd al-Azim Pasha Dawud. He was perhaps the only one of Abd al-Azim Pasha's sons not to inherit any of his mother, Farida Hanem's, good looks. He was small and thin with a dark complexion and most of the time his face wore a frown and conveyed a look of disgust, as though someone was squeezing a lemon in his mouth. It was as if he was born to detest the world and everything in it. He would shut himself off in his room at the villa, take walks through the quiet streets to the east in the shade of their tall trees, and venture deep into the open desert. He did not make friends with any of the neighbors and he did not form a fraternal bond with either of his brothers, Lutfi and Halim, or his sisters, Fahima and Iffat. On the rare occasions he played with his brother Halim in the garden of the villa or in the street, it ended in misunderstanding and argument. Once it concluded in a fight in which Gha.s.san was defeated despite being the elder. His father took him to visit relatives, Amr's family in particular, and he was once invited with his family to the Ata family mansion on Khayrat Square. He would look on but barely utter a word and did not make a single friend; they called him "Men's Enemy" and mocked his silent, nauseated countenance, thin body, eternal reticence, and reclusive haughtiness. Gleams of hunger may have shone in his eyes as he gazed at his beautiful female cousins but they were not accompanied by a smile or gesture.

"You must stop secluding yourself," his father would tell him.

"I know where to find peace and quiet and I'm not interested in anything else," he would cut back.

"What do you do locked in your room?"

"Listen to records and read."

But he did not reveal any literary or intellectual talents.

He adopted his father's political views, probably because they fitted his sense of superiority and inborn contempt for the ma.s.ses. He saw nationalist pursuits and popular leadership as a variety of ba.n.a.l political posturing. It did not escape his attention that he was held in lower esteem than other members of his family, and the degree of ignorance that prevented him from attaining the eminence his social status and cla.s.s arrogance merited challenged his self-importance. He was hard on himself and put himself through intolerable and unsustainable exertions, staying up all night studying only to gain average marks that were just good enough to take him from one grade to the next at the tail end of the top students. He put himself through torture in order to excel but to no avail. He eyed the victorious with resentment and respect and was filled with distress at his own incompetence. How could he be incompetent when his grandfather, father, and older brother were all pashas? The future loomed before him as a stark battle bristling with provocation and aggravation. Nor could he find consolation in religion since, like his brothers and sisters, he knew it only in name, not in substance. Thus, he worshiped work and gave himself to it wholly, only to be forced to content himself at the end with the tiny fruit his arid land could produce.

When he enrolled in the faculty of law, he found his cousin Labib, Surur Effendi's son, crowned in a halo of admiration for his achievements and tender age, which compounded Gha.s.san's depression and wretchedness. He took exception to the divine decree that conferred genius on his penniless cousin, a pauper's son, while denying it to him, a descendant of pashas and highranking lawyers and doctors. Perhaps part of his contempt for nationalism was to do with the fervor of his poor relations, Amr and Surur's families. He was unenthusiastic about the 1919 Revolution as it unfolded and quickly sought refuge with his father and his family on the side of those opposing it. When he graduated, he watched his cousin be appointed to the public prosecutor's office while he was left behind despite his n.o.ble descent and late nights. With the help of his father, the grand councilor, he was a.s.signed to the legal department at the ministry of education, and started his career angry and peeved though he had no right to be. He became known in the workplace for introversion, industry, and ignorance; all his promotions were through the intercession of his father. He continued to seclude himself both at the office and at the villa. He had no friends or girlfriends and only left the library, which he built up year after year, when absolutely necessary. He could sometimes be seen alone in a public garden or at the club, or sneaking with extreme caution into a secret high-cla.s.s brothel.

"It's time you thought about marriage," said Farida Hanem Husam.

He looked at her with surprise and annoyance and muttered, "This is all there is."

He had several reasons to hate the thought of marriage. For a start, it would invade his sacred solitude, which he could not abandon, and he was afraid the right girl would reject his job or family due to the various shortcomings of which he was not unaware. Farida worried about him constantly, especially after Abd al-Azim Pasha's death, when she sensed her time was approaching and that she would be leaving him in a big empty villa. The July Revolution brought afflictions he had not predicted. "Have we sunk so low as to be ruled by a band of illiterate army fellows?" he asked himself anxiously. He watched what happened to his family's rank and the value of its lawyers and doctors in dismay, asking himself, "Should I now be sorry the Wafd rabble have gone?"

"I'll be joining your father sometime soon. You need a wife and children," Farida said to him.