The pasha enjoyed her conversation and went along with her, although he would sometimes tease, “But Sitt Umm Amer, you appoint other saints and ifrit as gods alongside God.”
“Never!” she would reply with conviction. “His will is behind all things. If it wasn’t for Him my master al-Naqshabandi could not be in Mecca, Baghdad, and Cairo at the same time!”
She and Amr shared similar beliefs so they always enjoyed conversation and mutual understanding. She watched the 1919 Revolution through the mashrabiya of the old house and registered a new saint called Sa‘d Zaghloul in her timeless dictionary. When Amr took part in the civil servants’ strike she asked herself anxiously, “Will they imprison him like they imprisoned Shaykh Mu‘awiya?” She cut through streets swelling with riots and visited the tomb of Sidi Yahya ibn Uqab and invoked eternal damnation upon the English and their queen—for she believed Queen Victoria was still alive. She was beset with anxiety over Amer’s role in the demonstrations and Hamid’s punishment when he was accused of spurring the strike at the police academy. “Lord save us from these evils! Lord let the oppressed triumph!” her tormented heart cried at the tomb of al-Hussein.
She educated her children in her heritage, then when everyone began talking about the nation and Sa‘d and the field of consciousness expanded, events became their principal educator. She kept her health and, like her mother, lived beyond a hundred. Meanwhile, her children became families and grandchildren grew up. She heard of a new leader called Mustafa al-Nahhas and eventually Gamal Abdel Nasser, who was the last leader she would know and who raised her grandchildren to the skies then plunged the greatest among them into destitution or jail. Thus, she blessed and cursed him alternately. During her lifetime, her own mother and sisters, Ahmad Ata, Amr, Surur, and Mahmud Ata perished, as did others she did not know about. Two events affected her more than any other: the death of Amr, whom she grieved over for the rest of her life, and Qasim’s tragedy, especially in the beginning. Yet she stood firm with unusual strength and overcame her worries with a rare energy. She did not retire to her house until she was over a hundred and, even then, continued to shuffle about in the hallway until her final year. When the end was decreed, death came kindly and gently. Sadriya sat cross-legged at the end of her bed. She heard her mother sing in a feeble voice, “Come back to me, O night of greatness, come back.”
Sadriya laughed and asked, “Are you singing, Mother?”
“I’m singing this song and dancing between the well and the stove,” Radia replied.
Her head inclined to the left, and she sought refuge in eternal silence.
Rashwana Aziz Yazid al-Misri
She was the first child of Aziz Effendi and Ni‘ma Ata al-Murakibi. She was born and grew up in the family home in al-Ghuriya where Yazid al-Misri lived on the first floor and Ata al-Murakibi, her maternal grandfather, on the second. It was obvious when Amr and Surur were born that the two boys were better looking than their sister, but Rashwana was not ugly and she had a fine figure. Her father cast her loose with her brothers, but she trained hard at housework. By nature, and with her mother’s influence, she inclined to piety and was known throughout her life as God-fearing and devout. When she was fifteen, Sadiq Barakat, a flour merchant in al-Khurnfush, wanted to marry her. He was a business associate of Ata al-Murakibi and through him had got to know Aziz, the fountain watchman and husband of Ata’s daughter, Ni‘ma. Sadiq asked for the hand of Aziz’s eldest daughter and she was wedded to him at the house he owned in Bayn al-Qasrayn, a short way from her father’s fountain. Sadiq Barakat had been married twice before but had no children, and years went by without Rashwana falling pregnant. Then she gave birth to their only daughter, Dananir, and everyone rejoiced, Sadiq Barakat most of all. His financial situation was good, much better than Ata al-Murakibi’s or Aziz Yazid al-Misri’s. Rashwana’s life was pleasant, her kitchen filled to capacity, and her veil ornamented with gold. She would visit her parents in al-Ghuriya and brothers, Amr and Surur, in Bayt al-Qadi laden with gifts.
Dananir was similar in looks to her mother, perhaps a little prettier. She displayed talent at school so her father encouraged her to continue, despite Mahmud Ata al-Murakibi’s objections. Rashwana supported her husband’s plan so that her daughter could keep abreast of Fahima and Iffat, the two daughters of her cousin Abd al-Azim Dawud, although she envisaged marriage as the happy ending to education. Thus, she trained Dananir in housework during the long school holidays and waited anxiously for a suitable man. When Sadiq Barakat’s tragic illness confined him to his bed, she accepted that there was no alternative except for Dananir to continue her education, at least until she was able to marry. The need for this intensified after Sadiq Barakat died and she lost her source of income. She would not have seen any harm in Dananir marrying with the proviso that her uncle, Mahmud Bey, support her, had her daughter not refused and insisted on work, even if it meant being deprived of her legitimate right to marry. Rashwana’s father, Aziz, had died leaving her nothing to support herself with, and her mother, Ni‘ma, died poor because Ata al-Murakibi’s fortune came to him from the wife he married after Sakina, his first wife and Ni‘ma’s mother, had died. (Sakina was the daughter of the owner of the pantofle shop that Ata inherited—or rather managed on his wife’s behalf—and liquidated when she died.) Rashwana hated the thought of Dananir sacrificing herself for her sake and tried in vain to bring her round to her uncle Mahmud’s generous offer, which his brother, Ahmad, most gladly joined him in. But Dananir refused, saying, “We’ll keep our honor even if it costs us.”
She did not conceal her abiding criticism of her uncle and the rest of the family from her mother. “They worship money and rank and have no honor.”
“You’re a harsh judge! They are good, God-fearing people,” Rashwana said in dismay.
“You are good. You judge them generously. There’s your mistake,” Dananir replied gently.
Rashwana conveyed her anxiety to everybody—her brother Amr, Radia, Nazli Hanem, Fawziya Hanem, and Farida Hanem Husam, Abd al-Azim’s wife. Not one of them endorsed the girl’s pride. They predicted she would end up regretting it when there was no need, while Radia asked herself: Who is the infidel who prohibits women teachers from marrying?
Rashwana eyed her daughter worriedly, trying to plumb her depths, inquisitive of her thoughts and emotions, of what was hidden in the folds of her peculiar life, which resembled a man’s.
Whenever Dananir was stressed or complained about a work-related matter, Rashwana interpreted it in terms of some other cause lurking beneath of her irregular, meager life. She watched as her daughter grew fatter day by day, lost her graceful youth and looks, and assumed the marks of seriousness and coarseness. It was as though work had unwittingly transformed her into a man. Rashwana was alone with her brother Surur Effendi in his house on Bayt al-Qadi Square.
“God bless you, Brother. Why don’t you take Dananir for your son Labib?” she asked.
“But she doesn’t want to leave you at the mercy of others,” Surur replied evasively.
“I could convince her if she had the good fortune of finding a groom like your son.”
“The truth is I don’t really want Labib to marry until Gamila, Bahiga, and Zayna have found husbands. I only have a small salary and his assistance in the girls’ trousseaus is indispensable,” he told her frankly.
She returned, with a lump in her throat, to ruminate on her worries, which only ever left her at prayer times. She watched and saw her daughter’s youth vanish completely, its place taken by a gloomy picture marked by coarseness and barrenness; no one doubted that it was the specter of a spinster whose life was ruined. Her worries piled up as loved ones died one after the other: Ahmad, Amr, Mahmud, and Surur. Then her heart had to bear disease as well as constant sorrow. She took to her bed reluctantly and spent her nights in agony, aware death was on its way.… The Murakibi and Dawud families came by and Amr and Surur’s families visited regularly. She bequeathed Dananir to every one of the
m. She said to her daughter as though imparting her final testimony, “Marry at the next opportunity.”
In her dying hour Dananir rushed to her bed. She propped her mother’s head against her chest and recited what verses she could remember from the Qur’an until the woman breathed her last, leaving Dananir alone in the true sense of the word.
Zaynab Abd al-Halim al-Naggar
SHE WAS BORN AND GREW UP IN AL-KURDI LANE in al-Hussein to an Egyptian father called Abd al-Halim al-Naggar, who owned a small carpenter’s shop in the quarter, and a Syrian mother. She married Surur three years after his older brother, Amr, was married. Aziz believed in early marriages and had paid no attention to Surur’s protests.
“Marriage is the best medicine for people like you,” Aziz told his son.
“You’re a lusty man but you’re poor. Marriage is the cheapest way!” said his brother, Amr.
They sought the help of a matchmaker, who showed them to Abd al-Halim’s house. The man had a good reputation and was financially well-off. Surur objected to the fact that he was a craftsman but the matchmaker said, “His daughter is well brought up and beautiful.” Ni‘ma and Radia made the customary visit and were truly dazzled by the bride’s beauty. She was fair, with black hair, green eyes, a supple body, and a look of deep calm.
“A paragon of beauty,” Ni‘ma remarked on their return journey.
Radia’s jealousy was ignited. “As far as roots are concerned, we’re all children of Adam and Eve,” she said in what seemed like support and resistance at the same time.
Zaynab was wedded to Surur in the house next door to Amr’s on Bayt al-Qadi Square. The moment the veil was lifted from her face, he fell in love, and she loved him until the last years of her life and gave him Labib, Gamila, Bahiga, Zayna, Amir, and Hazim. Her beauty ensured a friendly reception in the family and its branches and the good impression was confirmed by her decorum, gentleness, and calm nature. She was instinctively conscious that Radia was jealous of her, but no complications proceeded from this thanks to her calm nature, which seemed to border on coolness. She always treated Radia with respect and friendliness. She put Radia before herself as the wife of her husband’s older brother and always hoped Radia’s sons would be her daughters’ husbands. Whenever one of them headed in another direction she suspected Radia to be the reason he digressed from his rightful destination, from the girl with first claim to him. But this did not muddy the love between the two families and never came to the surface. Her real troubles began when Surur approached middle age. His restlessness and the way he gazed automatically at each and every pretty girl in the quarter did not escape her vigilant eyes, and so a dispute developed between them late in life. He deflected any accusations with anger and edginess, while she censured and complained in a low voice, with constant gentleness. When her patience ran out she complained to his older brother, Amr Effendi.
“People grow wiser with age,” Amr said to his brother.
He assured him that his wife was always full of misgivings.
“Your children have grown up too,” said Amr.
Radia learned of the problem and would say to her sister-in-law, “Where would he find beauty like yours?” But she was secretly pleased, telling herself that no woman can survive by beauty alone.
Zaynab was not spared the effects of sorrow, for she developed diabetes and high blood pressure. Illnesses visited her successively and pallor crept into her radiant beauty, snuffing it out bit by bit before her time. She constantly discerned hungry hopes in Surur’s eyes and lived in an atmosphere heavily clouded with fear. She was alternately beset with the outright fear that, were he not poor, he would marry again, and the likelihood that he would find a rich woman who loved him as Ata al-Murakibi had been lucky enough to do long ago. How she envied Radia the contentment of her husband and her status among the family thanks to marriage ties with the Murakibis and Dawuds. “Look how they love your brother and shower gifts on him. You’ve driven them away with your vicious tongue!” she said to her husband.
The Second World War came with its darkness and air raids. However, the most abominable raid of all was the fate that swept down on Surur. His health deteriorated and he submitted to the hands of death prematurely, in his final year of service. The loss of the man she had never ceased loving for an hour of her life, despite the tepidity of his desire and sluggishness of his love, dealt Zaynab the final blow. One year after his death, she suffered a brain hemorrhage that rendered her unconscious for three days. On the fourth day, in Radia’s arms, she passed away.
Zayna Surur Aziz
She was the youngest daughter of Surur Effendi and the fourth of his children. She was known for her wide green eyes and a body that was quick to ripen and looked more like an adult’s than a young virgin’s. She was confined to the house at an early age, after she had learned to read and write at Qur’an school, and progressed to adolescence waiting for a suitable man. Gamila departed for her marital home and Zayna was left behind waiting with Bahiga. Her youth unfolded onto her family as it was assailed by alienation and tension in an atmosphere of darkness and air raids. She noticed early on the romantic maneuvers between Bahiga and Qasim and knew with her sharp instincts that their similar ages made them unsuitable marriage candidates, that the young man should rather be looking at her. Sitt Zaynab tirelessly took Zayna and Bahiga on visits to the family houses. Countless eyes devoured her, yet it seemed no one considered either of them for marriage. The family easily deserved what the father repelled from it, and better. Illness overtook Qasim and he took shelter in his new world. Her sister Bahiga met the blow with silence, patience, and acceptance. Her father died, then her mother, and she was left alone with her sister, visited in passing by their brother Labib when his work outside Cairo allowed. “God does not forget any of his servants. Whoever trusts in God is not sorry,” Radia told them.
One day, sitting with the two of them in his gallabiya, Labib said, “Someone has come and asked me for your hand, Zayna.”
Her heart fluttered. She looked at her sister guiltily.
“Everyone gets their share at the appointed time,” said Labib.
“You’re absolutely right, Labib,” said Bahiga. “Congratulations,” she said to her sister, despite the despair engulfing her.
“For my part, I wouldn’t miss an opportunity,” said the man.
A heavy silence reigned. Then Labib, who was capable of confronting the most uncomfortable situations, said, “His name is Sabri al-Muqallad. He works in a chemical company.”
“A company!” Zayna muttered dubiously.
“It’s better than the civil service. The world is changing.” Shaking his big head, he continued, “I’ve heard he is a heavy drinker and he admitted as much. But he has earnestly assured me that he has repented and is fit for marriage. What do you think?”
“It’s your decision,” she said submissively.
“There is no use for such talk today. You will see him for yourself.”
Sabri al-Muqallad came and Labib received him in the old reception room. Zayna made herself up and put on the finest clothes she owned and went in to meet her destiny. She could not examine his face closely but a glance was enough to glean a picture of him. He was very thin and had a gigantic nose, a big mouth, and a long face. When he left Labib said, “The man’s ugliness doesn’t mean he is no good. He has a good salary … a good family.… You have the final word.” She knew she wanted a husband at any price; she could not stand her gloomy existence any longer. Let God take care of Bahiga. She was wedded to him in a house his mother owned in Bayn al-Ganayin.
She seemed happy with her marriage and gave birth to Khalil and Amira. Amira perished in infancy, leaving a deep wound in the heart of the youthful mother. Sabri was twenty years older than her but she enjoyed a pleasant life in his care, strutting about in the finest clothes and dining on the most appetizing food, until she became excessively fat and started to resemble Egypt’s first chanteuses. Her son Khalil’s marriage to a
widow the same age as her shocked her, but she quickly got over her distress without any real crisis. The only blight on her happiness was the period she was separated from the rest of her family, when the traditional constant caravan of visitors was like a dream without a shadow of reality. Time brought the radio and television, Cairo swelled, and unexpected events, wars, and maladies poured down on the city. Bayn al-Ganayin, like other quarters, seemed to become an independent kingdom whose borders were only crossed in times of disaster.
Surur Aziz Yazid al-Misri
HE WAS BORN AND GREW UP IN THE HOUSE in al-Ghuriya in sight of Bab al-Mutawalli with his older brother, Amr, and their older sister, Rashwana. His childhood pastures extended between the gate and Bayn al-Qasrayn’s public fountain, where their father, Aziz, perched on his aqueous throne. Surur resembled his brother in height and distinct features, but his face disclosed a finer symmetry and he tended to be fatter. His grandmother, Ni‘ma al-Murakibi, lavished him with a special affection, the like of which was not enjoyed by Amr and Rashwana, and spoiled him in spite of Aziz’s objections and warnings. He grew up a natural believer but, unlike the rest of his family, without the trappings, and did not heed prayer times or fast until he was fifty, a course his own family would later follow. He appeared to be idle and hated studying so his progress was stilted. Meanwhile, the way he teased girls and his impulsiveness bespoke trouble. He tried to drag his brother, Amr, along with him but found him unresponsive; indeed, he found him obstructive and reproachful. The two shared a strong fraternal love that ultimately withstood the disagreements which tarnished their relationship over time. He worked his way through primary school with difficulty and Amr fared no better, so upon receiving the primary school certificate he threw down his weapons and was lucky enough to find a job in the railways. The primary school certificate was a significant document, so Aziz was satisfied and praised God. He had hoped for more for his sons, impressed by the example of his brother, Dawud Pasha, and nephew, Abd al-Azim, but told himself, “Contentment is a virtue.” He began thinking about the next important step, namely marriage. When he discussed the matter with Surur he found him lukewarm. Aziz told him plainly he did not approve of his behavior and thought marriage the best remedy. Amr agreed enthusiastically with his father, and Surur soon yielded out of respect for them and because he was eager to experience the magic of marriage. The matchmaker showed them to Zaynab’s house and a caravan made up of Ni‘ma, Rashwana, and Radia set out to court her. She was wedded to him in the house next door to his brother’s on Bayt al-Qadi Square.