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.
Sin
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.
Surur was dazzled by his wife’s beauty, calm nature, and gentle disposition. With her he found love and gratification and, over the course of a prosperous marriage, she gave birth to Labib, Gamila, Bahiga, Zayna, Amir, and Hazim. Surur’s government job, excellent wife, and beautiful children paved the way for equanimity. However, he always dwelled on what he lacked so was often corrupted by fantasies, and envy united his heart and tongue. He and Zaynab were united by something that she hid with her calm nature and gentle disposition and he revealed with his careless mannishness. He knew — it was impossible not to — what his grandfather Ata al-Murakibi had been and how he had become who he was, how destiny had smiled on him, just as he knew where his uncle Dawud’s “Pasha” title came from. He objected to his grandfather’s wealth and his mother’s poverty, accusing him of depravity and cruelty, and he burned with jealousy of his beloved brother, Amr, because everyone showered affection and gifts on him while he, Surur, was ignored as though he were not Amr’s brother, forgetting that it was his own vicious tongue that deterred people. His aggravation was compounded when Amr passed over his two daughters and married his two sons into the families of Dawud and al-Murakibi. Yet any resentment between the two brothers and their two families remained beneath the surface and love always conquered, even if deep down conflicting frustrations often surged. Even Radia and Zaynab’s differences were concealed by ongoing peace and good relations. Surur wept passionately the day Amr died, and Zaynab passed away beneath an awning of Radia’s recitation and tears.
In the same way that Surur was less pious than his brother, so he was less patriotic. However, the 1919 Revolution lodged in his insubordinate heart a warmth that would remain with him to his dying breath. He persistently boasted about his part in the civil servants’ strike, as though he had been the only person to strike, and memories of the demonstrations lived on in his imagination as one of the delights he most savored from his life. The violent wave clamoring with anthems of glory swept with it father and son and burst into the hearts of the women behind the mashrabiya. He thus found in the Murakibi and Dawud families’ renunciation of its hallowed leaders a target upon which he could unreservedly unleash his tongue. “We have an uncle who worships nothing in the world but his self-interest,” he would say to his brother. Or, “The great house of Dawud has joined Adli under the illusion that they are really part of the aristocracy!”
In middle age another revolution exploded in Surur, which entailed a revolt against his wife’s love. His eyes and impulses burst out in pursuit of adolescent fantasies and a rift developed between him and the meek, loving, sorrowful Zaynab.