Naguib Mahfouz - Morning and Evening Talk

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 them. 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.