Authors: Ahdaf Soueif
The Map of Love (66 page)
28 June 1906
In the salamlek Ahmad Hilmi’s hands cover his face. His shoulders shake and a muffled choking sound rises from behind his hands. Sharif Basha al-Baroudi puts a hand on his shoulder. Husni Bey al-Ghamrawi sits forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. Isma
il Basha Sabri holds his prayer beads still in his hands. The three men sit in silence. Above, behind the mashrabiyya, Layla and Anna kneel side by side on the hard banquette. They make no effort to wipe away the tears that fall silently down their faces.
‘I am sorry.’ Ahmad Hilmi wipes his face and straightens his shoulders. ‘It was barbaric,’ he says. ‘Barbaric. The gallows set up in the village, the “bride” next to them, the people herded in to watch. They hang one man, leave him dangling there in front of his family and his people, and tie another to the “bride” and whip him. And again. And again …’
There is silence.
‘And they call themselves civilised,’ he says.
The men do not speak.
‘Yusuf Saleem,’ he says, ‘twenty-two years old. He stood
on the platform, turned towards the villagers and shouted, “God’s curse on the unjust!” And then they hanged him.’
Layla’s hand finds Anna’s and the women cling to each other. Ismail Basha Sabri draws his hands across his face.
‘I have filed my report for
al-Liwa’
Ahmad Hilmi says. ‘I recorded the bare facts and begged readers to excuse me any further description, for words can only insult today’s events.’
Husni Bey al-Ghamrawi straightens up. ‘This will be the end of Cromer,’ he says.
‘We must make sure it is,’ Sharif Basha says.
‘Do you think that is possible?’ Ismail Basha Sabri asks.
‘Yes,’ Sharif Basha says.
‘L’Egypte
is read abroad. The
Manchester Guardian
has already taken the matter up. The
Daily Chronicle
on the 20th — before the trial had even begun — carried a telegram saying that Cromer had decided to have the men shot. The
Tribune
too will probably speak up. I am sending a man to Denshwai and preparing a full account of the case. We shall get it published in England. If the case is publicised enough, people will press for questions to be asked in Parliament and the Irish will take it up. The Foreign Office did not want this to happen. They will be embarrassed. Mustafa Kamel will write in France. If need be we will get the friend who furnished us with that forgery of a letter to find a way to make that public — or to threaten to. We may not end the Occupation, but we will get rid of Cromer.’
‘And who would you have instead,’ Ahmad Hilmi asks bitterly, ‘Kitchener?’
‘Chitty Bey would do,’ Husni Bey says, ‘the director of Customs. He was born here and speaks Arabic. He knows us. He is a good financier. We could work with him.’
‘And what about today?’ Ahmad Hilmi asks. ‘The people were not even allowed to bury their dead. The police carted them away. They are forbidden to open their houses for condolences. They cannot even grieve —’
‘We will open a house for condolence here,’ Sharif Basha says.
The others look at him in surprise.
‘I will open the house in Hilmiyya,’ he says, ‘for three nights, and the Thursdays and the Fortieth Day.’
‘That is dangerous, ya Basha,’ Ismail Sabri says.
‘It is fitting,’ Husni Bey says.
‘We do not need to make an announcement,’ Sharif Basha says. ‘We shall just put word about. We will allow no speeches, no demonstrations. Just the Qur
an and condolences. They cannot prevent that.’
29 June 1906
When he came up to our apartment last night he found me weeping. He took me in his arms and I said the words that came to me:
‘I am ashamed.’
‘No, Anna, no.’ And when I hid
my
face in his chest and wept, he held me away and said, ‘Listen. You must not — ever — feel like this. This is not to do with being British. Al-Hilbawi is Egyptian, and so is Ahmad Fathi Zaghloul. And your Mr Barrington and Mr Blunt are British.’
‘I listened,’ I wept, ‘I heard what Ahmad Hilmi said. I cannot bear it. All those people there tonight, in Denshwat. All those mothers and wives and sisters
—
‘
‘Hush,’ he said. ‘The only way we can bear this is to make it work for us. To make sure it can never happen again. Never. And we shall work for the release of the prisoners. Your friends in London will help us.’
He held me to him so that I could feel the tremor in his chest and he said, ‘Will you come to me? I need us to be together completely tonight.’ When I looked at his face I saw new and deep lines etched at the corners of his mouth and into his brow
.
For three days, for five Thursdays and on 6 August the house in Hilmiyya and the large marquee set up in its garden filled and emptied with men and women from Cairo, from the towns and villages of the Delta and the Said. Sharif Basha al-Baroudi and Husni Bey al-Ghamrawi and other notables stood at the door, shaking hands,
accepting condolences. Cups of black, sugarless coffee were drunk in their thousands. And not a sound was heard save for the melodious chanting of the Quranic message of hope for both the living and the dead.
… some of the leaders have been cowardly. One would almost say they have betrayed a country that has been generous to them beyond their wildest dreams. As for me, I shall stay on course till the end; for I believe that the fruit of this defence, if not harvested by the first defender, or the second, will still be harvested by an Egyptian somewhere down the years …
Mustafa Kamel, 1898
17 November, 1997
Tawasi,
Isabel is pregnant.
‘I told you it was meant to be,’ she said on the phone last night. ‘We’ve been seeing each other — but it was the first time that did it. I’m three months gone. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before but I wanted to be absolutely sure. I promised myself I’d tell you at three months.’
‘Isabel, that’s wonderful!’ I said. Then I said, ‘Isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’m madly happy.’
‘AndOmar?’ I asked.
‘Well.’ She hesitated. ‘He — actually, he’s quite upset. He didn’t quite ask if I wanted to keep the baby. He didn’t do that. But he is very concerned at the fact of being fifty-five.’
‘Give him time,’ I said.
‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘And a lot of space. I’ve not suggested either of us moving in. He can take his own time. I wait till he calls me — mostly.’
Trapped, I think. He must be feeling partly trapped, partly proud, partly what shall I tell the kids? His kids are grown up -older than mine. Will they be amused? Or resentful? He cannot have told Isabel about his affair with Jasmine yet; she would have told me. He must have put aside his fears — since he was seeing her anyway. But this will bring them all back. Father and grandfather in one — like Rameses or Akhenatun or any one of the great pharaohs. He would not appreciate
that. He is a modern man: an Arab-American. And, I tell myself again, he is not her father.
She says she cannot make plans to come back just yet. She wants me to go over. I say, when I’ve finished. I think I am fairly close. Cromer has resigned and Eldon Gorst has taken over. In the new, more conciliatory atmosphere, four official political parties have sprung into being. The first, naturally, is the pro-British Free National Party with
al-Muqattam
as its mouthpiece. Its slogan is ‘The Safety of the Fatherland and the Nation lies in Peace with the Reforming Occupiers’, and it is generally despised. Then Ahmad Lutfi al-Sayyid and some of the notables and high-ranking civil servants form Hizb al-Ummah, the Party of the Nation. They establish
al-Garida
as its newspaper and call for gradual independence from Britain, ending Turkish rule, investing in education and industry, and government by constitution. Mustafa Kamel then forms the real Nationalist Party, al-Hizb al-Watani, speaking through
al-Liwa
and calling for immediate independence and a constitutional government within the Ottoman state. Finally the Khedive, acting through Sheikh Ali Yusuf and his
al-Muayyad
, forms his own party, Hizb al-Islah. Its programme is immediate independence and a constitutional government but it soft-pedals on the Turkish ties and floats the idea of an Arab caliphate with the Khedive as the caliph.