Galaxy of Light

By Maha Ayoub

تساءلت الأم بتأثر، تحاول أن تحرر ابنتها الصغيرة من الهم الكبير على سنها. لكن خديجة نفسها كانت بحاجة إلى من يحررها. نظرت لابنتها بألم شديد، وكأنها فتحت جرحًا غائرًا في أعماق قلبها، وحاولت أن تخفي آثار حزنها، لكن لم تتمكن من حجب اندفاع الدموع من عينيها كسيول مطر بعد سنوات جفاف عجاف... وتتوالى أحداث الرواية كمغامرة جميلة شيقة، تتضمن كل متناقضات الحياة، يجب أن نعيشها حتى نقدر قيمة الحياة، ودائمًا نستطيع أن نعيشها.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nahdet Misr
• Release date: Jan 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9789771446484

Book preview

A Novel

Galaxy of Light

Translated by

Yumna Kassim

and

Amani Elshimi

A Novel by

Maha Ayoub

General Supervision: Dalia Mohamed Ibrahim

All rights reserved © Nahdet Misr Publishing House

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means,

including information storage devices of systems,

without permission from the publisher.

21 Ahmed Orabi St. Mohandseen. Giza

ISBN: 978 - 977 - 14 - 4648 - 4

Legal Deposit No.: 20885/2013

1st ed.: December 2013

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Established By Ahmed Mohamed Ibrahim-1938

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In the name of Allah; the Most Merciful

"Have you not considered how Allah presents an example, [making] a good word like a good tree, whose root is firmly fixed and its branches [high] in the sky? It produces its fruit all

the time, by permission of its Lord.

And Allah presents examples

for the people that perhaps

they will be reminded."

(Ibrahim: 24, 25)

DISCLAIMER

This is a work of fiction. Names and events are derived from the author’s own experience. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

Dedication

I dedicate this cultural legacy to …

My father, the greatest storyteller I have known since childhood, and my supporter at every step of the way;

My mother, the strongest, most perseverant person, the one who showed me what it means to have a will of steel.

My sister, who is kinder to me than I am to myself, and to her beautiful family who I hold close to my heart;

My beloved husband, my partner in life, and the first to encourage pursue any new endeavor of mine;

My children, you light up my life;

My ancestors, my roots, and every member of my family near and far;

My healers and all those who helped me throughout my life;

My friends, editors, teachers and loved ones who helped me write this novel, despite the difficulties;

And my country, may you always be blessed and protected.

Chapter One

Galaxy_Of_Light-1.xhtml Difficult times are a test and good times too. Always remember that, son. Don’t be too happy and don’t be too sad … Galaxy_Of_Light-1.xhtml

Maria always felt that there was much more substance to her than her simple looks, frail body, name, or surroundings. Her golden, braided hair, her small-featured rounded face, and her hazel eyes all disguised an inner depth she could not define.

She was only six years old, the younger daughter in a middle-class family that was considered relatively well-to-do, at a time when resources were scarce. The country was caught up in a tangle of fear, worry, and disappointment; it was a country mobilizing for war.

The family lived in Ismailia, right on the banks of the Suez Canal. Tension was escalating every day. Army units lined up along the shore, and troops and tanks rolled in from Cairo, through the city, to the Sinai. Ismailia was constantly alert and apprehensive. People everywhere turned up the radio and listened intently on the street cafes, in their homes, and even at work. Some heard the news, others played the patriotic songs of Abdel Halim and his contemporaries. All listened to Nasser’s speeches that were a source of encouragement and reassurance. The army was prepared.

When adult talk became too terrifying, Maria would escape to her special sanctuary. In her room, she would cover her ears, and search for that voice inside her that muffled all other sounds and transported her to another state of existence. Slowly, she would find herself drawn into an open space, dark and magnificent, bursting with sparkling stars, glittering like jewels. When she felt safe and reassured, she would take her hands away from her ears, and float in the galaxy of light. Wow, look at all these stars! she would think. I’m so light, I’m flying. And it’s beautifully quiet. This is the happiest moment in my life!

She would spend what seemed like hours in her galaxy, until the sounds of reality re-emerged. Slowly, she would open her eyes, and look at her hands and kiss them … to make sure that they still moved, and that she had returned to her small body.

Her father, Shukri Elwan, had worked for the French experts at the Suez Canal Authority, since he moved back from France some 15 years earlier. It was a dream job for any man at the time. The benefits were great, and there were allowances and housing privileges too. He secured the job as a result of his merit and excellent performance on a fellowship in the faculty of arts in a university in France. He graduated top of his class and was awarded this job.

The Authority’s villas had old French architecture to match the stature of the French experts in the days when the administration was in their hands. After the nationalization of the Suez Canal in 1956, the villas were given to members of the new Egyptian administration, commensurate with each’s importance and rank.

Shukri’s job was to translate all dialogue between the French experts and the Egyptian workers. As a result of the extended time he spent doing this work, Shukri, although no engineer, gained much technical knowledge about the control room – a place no Egyptian engineer was allowed to enter. This particular knowledge later proved instrumental during the Tripartite Aggression, and afterwards when Shukri was able to direct the control engineers, helping navigate hundreds of ships across the Canal.

Overnight, Shukri Elwan became a local hero in Ismailia. He was decorated by the Chairman of the Suez Canal Authority, and by President Gamal Abdel Nasser, himself. And, he gained bigger benefits and privileges, including a beautiful villa.

Even though he was not a native of Ismailia, he enjoyed living away from the capital. He had found his niche. The social life manifested his earlier dreams, and the higher status would allow him to create his ‘ideal’ family – one that would have to measure up to his own standards and values.

He was still quite young then - a muscular, handsome and elegant fellow in his early thirties. He came from a simple, rural family of four siblings. His father, Hagg1 Abdallah, worked at the Ministry of Endowments, and, thus, had to move with the family from city to city, on a regular basis. Growing up, Shukri had found this kind of ‘unsettled’ life very distressing. He vowed to provide his future family the social status and stability he had missed.

It was why he would not listen to his mother’s constant insistence that he should get married. He had not yet found what he was looking for in a potential wife; beauty, and a good family - two things that would help him create the ideal family he imagined. He had started visualizing his ideal future the minute he returned from the fellowship in France.

Shukri Elwan had a will of steel. He was determined to fulfill his dreams. Even in swimming competitions as a college freshman, he would train during the winter in the freezing Nile waters, and swim for the longest distances, until he was awarded the Yacht Club’s gold medal three times in a row.

The news that Shukri had received the highest Medal of Honor spread across his social circles in Ismailia and Cairo. He received a surprise visit from four of his dearest school friends.

Look at this house! What’s all this! Nice villa Shukri, said Mohamed AbdelMabud with a hint of spite. He was interrupted by Hassan Elazazi, throwing a khamsa hand gesture in his direction to protect from the evil eye, and saying, Allahu Akbar! Shukri deserves all good things. Did you forget how hard he worked to get that fellowship in France after college? Do you remember how Hagg Abdallah sold everything he owned to educate his son and support him until he graduated? Take it easy buddy. Shukri, you should ask Sitt Hawa, your mother, to perform one of her immunization rituals on you to protect you from this guy’s evil eyes.

Where are we going to celebrate our national hero tonight? asked Mahmoud Badran, playfully. Samir Messiha stepped in with a smile and a heavy southern accent. How about we let Shukri decide what he wants to do? We’re not here to tire him out. You know he doesn’t like to stay up late, right Shukri?

Shukri smiled confidently. Who said I want to go out with you guys anyway? I already have plans. I’ll pass by my parents because I miss them and haven’t checked on them in quite a while.

Badran interrupted, OK so you’ll have lunch with them, but what about after that? Why do I get the feeling you’re going to meet a girl?

Well if you’d let me finish, you might find out, replied Shukri. I am going to meet my cousin Leyla at Groppi’s. She’s bringing a couple of friends with her for me to see and maybe pick a wife. Shukri turned to Badran with determination, You, especially, are not coming with me. I want to make this decision by myself, without anyone’s influence.

Samir Messiha ushered his friends towards the door. Come on guys. We’ll drop Shukri off and talk on the way. Shukri has to catch that duck Sitt Hawa has stuffed especially for him. His joking deliberately relieved his friend from the obligation to go out with the group that night.

All five young men went out to Mahmoud Badran’s car - a navy blue Fiat 1100 which, small though it was, fit all of them in. They headed to Hagg Abdallah’s house in Saray El Kubba, laughing the whole two-hour drive, as they remembered adventures and pranks from their earlier school and college days.

Shukri’s arrival home was as festive as the Eid. His youngest siblings, Naima and AbdelFatah, were overjoyed with his familiar gifts of candy and little trinkets. His mother, Hagg2 Hawa, also enjoyed her new embroidered shawl. She was known and loved for her warmth and spiritual healing powers.

Shukri bent over his father, Hagg Abdallah, clad in his robe and kaftan, and kissed his hand and shoulder. I missed you, father. What do you say we have dinner, you and I, tonight in ElHussein? My treat, he said proudly.

Hagg Abdallah laughed, you also owe me two pigeons you had promised last time you were here. Shukri threw himself into his father’s arms. This was the only place he allowed himself to express emotion.

His visit after an absence of more than two months called for a feast – a casserole of meat and okra, rice with kidneys, fried red meat and three ducks – two stuffed with rice for the children, and the other with freekeh for Shukri. Then there was the best green salad, rich with the season’s freshest vegetables, arugula, and a squeezed lemon.

Sitt3 Hawa called her eldest daughter to the kitchen, while stirring the mallow in its pot and blowing into it for added good energy. Haneya, come take the bataw bread and don’t break it on your way. Put it in front of your father and Shukri. Tell your sister, Naima, to come take the okra casserole, too.

Hagg Abdallah was now seated where the food would go. My, my, my, he said, with a watering mouth, the meat looks delicious! He reached out to taste it, only to hear Sitt Hawa loudly remind everybody to wait for the mallow, and recite the prayers first. Hurry up woman! Your son Shukri is hungry. Hagg Abdallah was unable to contain himself at the delightfully appetizing smells floating in from the kitchen.

When the whole family was finally gathered at the table, Shukri, Mohsen, Haneya, Naima, AbdelFatah, all waited for the Hagg to divide up the duck, after Sitt Hawa recites her readings. She began by reciting the name of Allah on the food, and praying for her children, with special teary blessings for Shukri.

We seek refuge in Allah, the All-Listener, the All-Knowing, from the accursed satan …

We seek refuge in Allah, the All-Listener, the All-Knowing, from the accursed satan …

We seek refuge in Allah, the All-Listener, the All-Knowing, from the accursed satan …

In the name of Allah the Merciful …

May you be in the protection of the Ever-Living; by the power of Allah, a thousand times; there is no power but from Him, the All-Hearer, the All-Knowing.

And Shukri began to eat, grateful to his parents for all they provided. With a healthy appetite, he indulged in the duckroast, stuffed with delicious freekeh, and the rest of the feast prepared in honor of his visit. The family then gathered in the balcony for mint tea.

By the way, mother, I am heading out in a little bit. I’ve got an appointment.

To which Sitt Hawa responded, Oh Shukri but we haven’t had nearly enough of you yet…

Oh God, leave him alone, woman, Hagg Abdallah interjected.

Now a little upset, Sitt Hawa objected, I’m talking to my son.

I’m coming back, and I’m spending the night. I’m just going to run a little errand, and I’ll be taking the Hagg to ElHussein4 in the evening, then right I’ll come right back home to you, Shukri said trying to comfort her.

Hagg Abdallah stood up, I’ll go wash up and pray ‘Asr before I get too heavy. Goodbye for now, son. AbdelFatah, come so I can lean on you, my boy.

Taking this as an opportunity to unleash the curiosity she was trying to contain, Sitt Hawa asked, So will you tell your mother where you are going?

With a glimmer in his eye, Shukri lowered his voice Later, Sitt Hawa, I’ll tell you later; at night, when the Hagg has gone to sleep. I promise you. We’ll have one of those long chats we used to have. He laughed, knowing his mother had already figured out where he was going and what he was going to do.

Sitt Hawa smiled and said I’ll be waiting for you, dear. Don’t forget to tell Leyla I said hello.

How did you know?! said Shukri in shock.

Never mind how, hurry up or you’ll be late. Stay safe, darling, and may you find what you are looking for.

She walked him to the door, whispered a prayer under her breath, and shut the door.

Woman, come help me put this galabeya on. Do you ever stop talking?

Quit asking for stuff, man, will you? For goodness sake!

Shukri hurried. He and his cousin Leyla had devised a plan. He would walk into Groppi, and ‘accidentally’ see Leyla and her friends, one of whom may be the bride he was searching for. He had finally decided to marry, and he only had a few days of holiday left.

Sitt Nafisa, of