Naguib Mahfouz - Morning and Evening Talk

Shakira Mahmud Ata al-Murakibi

Her eyes opened onto the mansion on Khayrat Square with its furniture, objets d’art, and lush garden. She had the misfortune of inheriting her most important features from her father, Mahmud Bey, with no sign of the beauty and charm her mother, Nazli Hanem, possessed. She was of medium build, had a large head and coarse features, was stubborn to the extreme in her decisions, zealous in her views, and could not be moved from a sentiment. She was also deeply pious, with firm morals and urbane, refined manners. Had she been otherwise, her father would not have married her to Hamid Amr to safeguard her from opportunists. Despite the vast difference between their two families, no one in Amr’s house was enthusiastic about the marriage except Amr himself; from the moment the engagement was announced they referred to her as “Shakira Bey Ata.”

Shakira loyally loved her young husband from the first day and was completely ready to open her heart to everyone in his family. True, she was not unaware that his common tastes, customs, and conduct were a long way from her refined and urbane upbringing, but she told herself, “Everything can change!” She noticed too that his affection for her was a passing whim and that the first signs of boredom appeared during the honeymoon itself. This realization hit her like a bolt of lightning and caused her immense pain, its poison piercing her love and pride. She did not keep secrets from her mother. “These things will pass. Be subtle and smart,” said Nazli Hanem, speaking to her as a lady of experience and concealing the anxiety in her heart. She also said, “He comes from a common environment and because he is a policeman he only ever deals with good-for-nothings.”

Hamid was heedful of his father-in-law’s power and of living among his relations, so he would not raise his voice, but instead made his words gentle yet simultaneously hurtful. Once, when Shakira was angry, she said to him, “Most people don’t know a blessing until it’s gone.”

He guffawed scornfully and replied, “Me marrying you is a blessing. You’re absolutely right!”

“Then why did you agree?”

“Marriage is fate.”

“And ambition and greed too!”

Thus began a struggle that would go on for years and end in divorce. It grew gradually more heated and one day she screamed at him, “You exude filth!”

“Didn’t they tell you about your grandfather, the pantofle seller?” he asked sarcastically.

Yet despite her fury and stubbornness, Shakira did not lack judgment, so the secrets of her wretched marriage remained concealed within the narrowest confines. Even Nazli Hanem did not know the full details. Indeed, in spite of everything, Shakira’s love for her husband did not dry up until after her father’s death. She gave birth to Wahida and Salih and dearly hoped he would change with time, but it was no use. Relations with his family fared no better; she had thought Radia eccentric before she married and now decided she was insane. The two women hated one another with a passion despite Radia and Nazli’s close friendship.

“Be careful not to provoke your mother-in-law. She fraternizes with the jinn,” said Nazli.

“I depend on God alone,” Shakira replied.

She and Amer’s wife, Iffat, also detested one another, compounding the envy and aversion between Ata and Dawud’s families. When the older generation passed away, Hamid could breathe freely. His wrath was unleashed in an atmosphere free of constraints and the matter ended in divorce. Shakira began to despise Hamid and his family deeply and her rage never subsided. She continued to curse and cut him to pieces for the rest of her life. In her loneliness religion claimed her. She performed the hajj more than once and was as bent on the rituals of prayer, fasting, and alms-giving as she was on cursing her enemies and damning them in this world and the next.

Shahira Mu‘awiya al-Qalyubi

She was the second daughter of Shaykh Mu‘awiya and Galila al-Tarabishi. She was born and grew up in the old family house in Suq al-Zalat in Bab al-Sha‘riya. The hallway of the house was her playground, between the stove, well, and family sofa, where she, Radia, Sadiqa, and Baligh would congregate. There sounded her father, the shaykh’s, exhortations, and there circulated Galila’s mysteries of times past. From the beginning, Shahira showed no interest in religion or religious duties. Yet she eagerly embraced popular heritage and would add to it from her abundant imagination. In body and face she resembled Radia, though she was fairer, remarkably blunt and impudent, and eccentric to the point of insanity. Two years after her father died, one of his students, a Qur’an reciter with a sweet voice, nice appearance, and ample means, sought her hand in marriage. She was wedded to him in his house in Bab al-Bahr, not far from the family residence. She gave birth to a fine-looking son, whom his father called Abduh because he thought the name of the man whose voice he adored, Abduh al-Hamuli, would be a good omen. The marriage prospered in spite of Shahira’s irascibility and impudence. “It’s the spice of married life,” the husband, Shaykh Ali Bilal, would joke.

Shaykh Ali Bilal made friends with Amr Effendi and his family, and whenever he visited the house on Bayt al-Qadi Square, Amr would ask him to bless it with one of his recitations. Thus, he would sit cross-legged in the reception room after supper, drinking coffee, and recite something easy from the Qur’an in his sweet voice. He was impelled by his voice and friends to recite eulogies to the Prophet at festivals. His livelihood grew and his admirers multiplied. Before long he was invited to enliven weddings with his panegyrics. Amidst the festive atmosphere and pleasant evenings, he got into the habit of smoking hashish. Eventually one of the composers suggested he try singing, foreseeing a rosy future in it for him. The shaykh met the invitation with a merry heart. He saw nothing wrong in abandoning the holy suras of the Qur’an to sing, “Don’t Speak to Me, Papa Is Coming,” “Draw the Curtains So the Neighbors Can’t See,” and “Yummy Scrummy Fried Fish,” and was remarkably successful in so doing. He made recordings, which were circulated in the market, and people started talking about him. Amr clapped his hands together. “What a comedown!”

The temptations of the new milieu made Shahira anxious about her position as wife. “You were a blessed shaykh when I married you,” she said. “Now you’re a chanteuse!”

The man was intoxicated by his success and became the organizer of many a hashish gathering. He was soon drinking heavily and the house would be filled with horrid trenchant fumes at the end of the night, reminding Shahira of the tragedy of her brother, Baligh. The sound of her upbraiding and scalding him with her vicious tongue would drown the dawn muezzin. Then reports of him flirting with singers reached her ears. She pounced on him with a savagery that flung open the gates of hell upon him and he made up his mind to divorce her. But one night, before he could put his decision into action, he overdid the drinking and singing and had a heart attack. He died among friends, plucking the strings on his lute.

Shahira performed the rituals of mourning without emotion. She leased the house and the shop below and returned with Abduh to the old house to share her loneliness with her mother, Galila. “Let Abduh be your eye’s delight,” said Radia. But Abduh was snatched away in a fever, as though in a dream. By this time his mother was already known as Umm Abduh about the quarter, and the eponym would stick for the rest of her life. She became passionate about breeding cats and dedicated her time to looking after them until they filled the gap in her life and crowded the old house. She started to believe she could understand their language and the spirits that inhabited their bodies, and that through them she was in touch with the Unknown. She found her best friend in Radia. Whenever they met up, whether in Bayt al-Qadi or Suq al-Zalat, a curious session invariably ensued during which they would exchange anecdotes about the realm of the jinn, the Unknown, and the offspring of mysteries. In such things they were of one heart and one mind, despite Radia’s misgivings and suspicion that Shahira begrudged her her children and happy marriage. Shahira was famous in Suq al-Zalat for her inscrutable, fearful personality and impudent tongue. She was not known to perform any religious duties and would prepare her meal at sunset in Ramadan saying, “People don’t need religious duties to bring them closer to God.” After her mother died she was wholly immersed in solitude, submerged to the top of her gray head in a world of cats. Her brother, Baligh, saw to her upkeep. He would invite her to visit his sublime mansion, but she hated his wife for no real reason, and only ever left her cats to visit Sidi al-Sha‘rani or Radia. She fell victim to the cholera epidemic of 1947 and moved to the fever hospital after instructing a neighbor to go to Radia for the cats’ care. She died in hospital, leaving some forty cats behind. Radia’s sons and daughters mourned the aunt whom they had laughed at in life.