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 God 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 class. 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 nobleman 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.
“God 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 passed, 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. God 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, Ghassan, 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 Mère 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 class, 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 constituted 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 circumstances 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 nobility 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 li
ved 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 passed to Ata. He wore the gentle manners of a merchant over his coarse 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 massacre, 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 passed, 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 assailed 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, assured 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 sturdy 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 assiduously; 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 class, the class 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 God’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 God.”
Doubts about the future of his relationship with his wife began to assail 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.”
Morning and Evening Talk Page 13