Shifting Homes

My fifth short story in 503 words


   Out of the blues, she came out, accompanied with all the fanfare of an expatriate engineer and the glamor of a lady from the good old days. I didn't know her before although she was from the same class of my graduation year. Thanks to the Internet, I have recognized one very cultured woman who challenged me and provoked my deep reservoir of knowledge to pop out. She had an unusual story of being a strong female more caring of her mind than her body. I have noticed later when I met her that she had fed both, giving a very rich intellect and a fat heavy built. Originating from a well to do Turkish-Egyptian background, where the father was working in wood trade and a mother working as an executive in a paper company, she had mingled in her childhood with the last remaining Jews, Greeks, Italians, Armenians and other nationalities that had connections with her family, when Alexandria was still reminiscent of a vanishing cosmopolitanism. The 1952 coup d'état had heavy financial consequences on her family assets and business, so came the firm antipathy that she holds up till now to the post Royal regimes. She obtained a fine education in Catholic language schools. Her parents managed to live one way or another under two regimes till the assassination of Sadat, which was the year of her admission to the faculty of engineering. After he secured her planned marriage as he did to her two sisters, her father died of a stroke.
  Finishing her university studies with excellence, getting pregnant and becoming embroiled in mundane details of daily living, she began to ask herself big questions about life, religion, the real contemporary history of Egypt and the future ahead.  She threw herself into reading intensively and deeply. She began to have contradictory opinions with her mother from one side and with her husband, who was a surgeon, from the other side. Getting a contract into a wealthy Gulf state came through relations with some authorities, and that was a temporary solution for her. She went to this hot burgeoning state, to work in a ministry with all sorts of personnel, mainly coming from the Indian subcontinent. She had been exposed to different customs, cultures, ideas, beliefs and styles of life. Her three children grew up, so too was her ambition, her mind, her personality, her bank account and a secret separation will. She accrue along those tumultuous years, a hate to anything related to Arabs, so she was plotting, without the awareness of her rival husband, a way to immigrate to Britain. Bit by bit, she increased the dose of animosity to her partner, to the degree of scandalous violent attitude. She accused him of many flaws, but to keep her children till reaching her newly adopting country, she passed her days with him, to use him later as a cover and a bridge. Eventually, she obtained both a post and an immigration visa for the whole family to the UK.

The Ordeal!

My first very short story

The Ordeal!

  Swinging between twilight sleep and periods of nap, Samy, in his brief moments of clarity, realised that he was bedridden with plaster casts around both legs, a thick dressing on his belly and many lines branched to his chest, neck and right forearm. Although the effect of sedation was strong, he pondered about what had gone wrong. Unwinding the reel, he remembered the anaesthetist's mask approaching his face and then unrecalled any more till this moment of fogginess.
     As he gradually grew more alert, he began to unreverse the sequence of painful events that he had gone through. Unabating was his ability to draw in details, the events that occurred around him, but in his current messy state he couldn't be definite. He began to recollect the accident that brought him here. Was it the truck  that had unstabled his sedan car pushing it to flip like a coin or was it his lack of attention following a dispute where he had quarrelled with his wife on her jealousy as usual. He was late to meet the clients at his office but one of these was a nagging old customer unabling him to concentrate with the others. If he would have left, one hour earlier, he may have avoided all this ordeal. Unbelieving in his workaholic state often reproached by his confidants, he dashed that day to his office, unfinishing the sumptuous lunch that he had been invited to.
      Fully awake now, feeling blessed to be alive, he watched the door opening to usher the arrival of a noisily talking doctor and a smiling nurse coming to examine him on the morning round. 

Written by Mohyee- in 276 words
N.B. (The retrograde fashion and the un-verbs are intentional)

My radio experience!

     Radio has been always near to my ears, heart and mind since the days of my childhood. It has for thousand of times, informed me, taught me, entertained me, comforted me and consoled me. I was all the time a receiver and never thought to interact by a phone call or a message to any of my favorite radio channels, let alone to be a guest in a radio studio to make a program. It didn't pass by my mind that one day, and very smoothly, I will be a radio content maker. And imagine what, in the field of preventive medicine and in French language too. Despite that the experience was short lived but it was quite successful. I recorded three consecutive episodes of 'Santé' in the recording studio of Radio Cairo. And although it was for gratis, I would have paid for such a happy experience.

I participated later by phone many times in the same vein; medicine and health matters. I would be happy to repeat the experience in the future but in a more professional way.

About the film, 'Whiplash'!

 



  'Whiplash' is a film that raises your blood pressure, upsets you and put you on your toes at times. But it is good cinema, with superb editing, photography, and lighting. The acting is excellent, especially J.K Simons in the role of Fletcher, who won an Oscar for the supporting actor. It all revolves around a young man (Andrew) obsessed with drums and to become a great player, to be recognized and remembered thereafter. But he is engulfed by a patronizing autocratic insulting cruel over-demanding chief of jazz band, (Fletcher). Andrew forgets everything about making friends or having a girlfriend or any distraction, but playing drums and training till bleeding his hands to excel. It is all about jazz music and the dialogue contains many musical terms. The confrontation grew between Andrew and Fletcher, to become complicated and intricate. The only one who really stood beside Andrew was his father. After a quarrel between both protagonists, And knowing about the suicide of trumpeter who was previously psychologically abused by Fletcher, Andrew was convinced to file a complaint against him. As result, Fletcher was excluded from the prestigious music college and fired. Fletcher then played piano at bars to earn his living. One night, after Andrew decided to leave drumming, he was aimlessly strolling at night beside bars, when he has seen the name of Fletcher on a sign, so he entered. Fletcher saw him, sat with him and convinced him to play with his new band in a concert. He was actually screwing him, to avenge his expulsion. But on the stage, Andrew improvised, when he didn't find the score sheet of the piece. Then in a final long shot scene, things turned upside down when Fletcher, changed hearts in favour of the young man at last, while he was playing frantically, a capriccio, his drums. What a strange film, with a peculiar idea but with all the ingredients of a good film. Don't see the film if you have heart or nerves troubles and sure not before going to sleep.

Psychological metamorphosis!

     We all know for sure, the masterpiece of Franz Kafka, 'The Metamorphosis'. The protagonist of the novel was transformed inexplicably into an insect. This was a physical transformation, and actually, the term, metamorphosis, gained more acceptance, popularity and spread after Kafka's novel. In my case, I am not turning into an insect neither good or a bad one, but I am undergoing a psychological change, as if I am overhauling myself from the inside. Consider it like, a renovation, a substitution or a rebuilding. After a thorough analysis of my feelings, my shortcomings, my failures, my expectations and my aspirations, I proceeded to work on my situation in the depth. I discovered that it is not an external change that will bring me serenity, balance, peace of mind and happiness, but an inner change will do the trick. So, it became imperative to act positively to the betterment of one's behavior, approach to people, and the whole personal philosophy as well.   

I decided to have only one face, to say what I think and feel, not to have double standards. It is not always easy or safe to be so, but it is very rewarding for my psyche. I couldn't stress more the importance to eliminate internal struggle for it has a deleterious effect on the person himself. To accomplish this, many points I considered to be imperative.  

Reaching out!

    To know that it is possible to get along with people is one thing and to immerse yourself in strong relationships of all sorts where you can express your full potential is another. This demands many talents, predisposition and experience. 

Those firm relations come in different sorts; blood links, love, infatuation, friendship, colleagueship and neighborship. In all these types of intricate relation, there are interactions at different levels. But underneath all of them is the psychological need to belong to someone, to a group and to an entourage. Because man can't live alone in a void and because he has to have a history, a present and a future, he/she reachs out to attach himself/herself to other humans having something in common with, other than being descendants from the Homo Sapiens species. 

(To be cont.) 

A mounting problem: lying and pretending

I remember from my childhood, that we were taught not to lie and to behave modestly without any pomposity. Our parents, teachers and preachers were always emphasizing and infusing the notions of telling the truth and the despise of arrogance. But real life, as we found while growing gradually, was totally different from these good intentions, especially that those very people held once in high esteem in our once innocent eyes, souls and little brains, were lying and pretending on different occasions. (To be cont.)

The violin, queen of the strings!

    In classic music in general, the violin had always been and still is of a major presence and importance.  Take for example for its value, the Bach’s violin sonata number one in G minor and witness its effect on you from the beginning of the work till its end. This music was composed in 1720 as the first of six, where the five  other works are two sonatas and three partitas and all for violin as the principal or solo instrument. And although we are approaching three hundred years of its composition, it is still amazing. The violin which plays solo, is doing all the job alone, hence its uniqueness as well as some other important instruments which are accomplished stand-alone like the piano. Although in some interpretations, the violin is accompanied by a harpsichord or a piano in the background playing mostly another melody, the violin captures you, moves softly but decisively to penetrate you and instantaneously alters your mood. From the Adagio of the first movement to the Fugue allegro to the Siciliano till the final Presto, you are surrounded by the violin that talks to your soul and mind. A whole fifteen minutes, or slightly more according to the version, of pure spiritual pleasure. 

  Vivaldi to my mind and knowledge was the greatest composer of the Baroque era and he consacrated a big part of his compositions for the violin. Not only the 'Le Quattro Stagioni' or 'Il Grosso Mogul' or 'La Stravaganza', go and listen to 'Dresden Concerti'. It is always a charming and marvellous time to listen to works of Vivaldi but in particular his violin ones. We can consider this red priest the champion of violin in the Baroque period and a leader of many musicians following his style. 

(To be cont.)

A trip to part of Islamic Cairo - 2

  Walking further inside the southern part of El Mu3ez Le Deen Ellah street, I passed by many unidentifiable monuments, some of them were disguised by makeshift stalls for variable goods. Then I continued my stroll in the street till I reached Souq el Aqqadin. There to my delight, I discovered the presence of Sabil of Mohammed Ali Pasha. I had a previous knowledge about Sabils, as a salient feature of Islamic Architecture - being an act of benevolence done by rulers or wealthy people towards the poor - their components, function and their association sometimes to Kuttabs (Quranic schools). The monument was well preserved and open to public visit. It was restored few years ago in 2004, thanks to a donation from USAID, the European Union and the Embassy of the Netherlands in  Cairo, through the American Research Center in Cairo by specialists led by the Polish historical conservation architect, Agnieszka  Dobrowolska. She produced a book on her experience in this successful project that was published by the AUC press.

   Mohammed Ali Pasha, the viceroy of Egypt from 1805 to 1848, is generally considered the founder of modern Egypt, viewing the deep change that he brought. Despite being a foreigner, he did for the country what many of its original descendants didn’t. Being a visionary, a leader, a very smart individual endowed with many talents to govern and plan, he succeeded to build the basis for new industries, sent educational missions abroad, attracted talents from around the world to serve his ambitions to ameliorate and even to excel above many countries. He did put emphasis on the agriculture sector taking it to a higher, disciplined order, with new crops and abundant production. Exports of Egypt rose to unprecedented level. New cities, ports, were established. An indigenous powerful army and modern navy were formed. Government institutions, ministries and circles were arranged. To protect Egypt’s interests, he sought to protect its water resources, both inside the country and outside it by trying to explore the origins of the Nile. He noticed the dangers surrounding his country, so decided to expand Egypt’s borders, and entered many wars for that reason and to satisfy his ambition of being the ruler of an independent state. He was too a great builder and left many public works and magnificent monuments, for different purposes. One of them is his Sabil which was erected as a memorial to his deceased son (Prince Tusun) who died of bubonic plague in 1817. 

   The Mohammed Ali Sabil’s, is one of the still remaining few in Egypt, having an Ottoman style. It is very beautiful both from inside and outside. And though it has been built in 1820, it is so attractive that it is worth visiting despite that it is in a busy commercial part of the street and only reachable by foot. Strangely, few tourists visit it, and it is off the usual or planned path for any touristic itinerary whether local or international. Covered with marble panels mostly from the outside of its bowed structure, having bronze doors, topped with its lead-covered dome, the Sabil is both robust and majestic. The façade shows panels of poetic verses written in Ottoman Turkish, including the name of the Sultan Mahmud the second, and mentioned because Egypt was a part of the Ottoman empire at that time. The arched windows have grilles which were once gold covered meant to impress those who were entering to have a cup of cold clean water from the marble basin behind. I didn’t enter because while walking, I decided to expand my tour to visit many more monuments in the short time period available. But I learnt later that from the inside, the dome is ornamented with Turkish landscape paintings, not Egyptian one. Also that one can get to the upper floor to see the unused classroom with its wooden desks, waiting for students desperately. Below the main hall of the Sabil there is the cistern of water that supplies the basins and which can be visited through a small stair. On exhibition inside is the story of Mohammed Ali Pasha, his deeds and his family. Many posters showing the conservation process that took place to preserve the Sabil and many that talk about water, are on display, as I discovered from researching on the subject.

   I was impressed for sure and refrained from getting in and continued walking in the street seeking its end just to pass by the Wekalet Nafisa Al Bayda, and took a rapid incomplete side glimpse of it, and postponed visiting it too and its associated Sabil, because it also needs much time. It lies in al-Sukariyya street off El Mu3ez Street and before few meters of Bab Zuweila. It is as far as I know one of the other conservation projects also done by Agnieszka  Dobrowolska and her team. Nafisa Al Bayda was the beautiful white slave of unknown certain origin, turned lady due to her marriage to first Ali Bey Al-Kabir then to his slayer, Murad Bey who fought against the French occupation forces led by Napoleon. She was a wealthy, good, charitable woman, intelligent, cultured who could read and write in Arabic and Ottoman Turkish and spoke French. She built her vast Wekala and Sabil in 1796 two years before the French Expedition to Egypt.

  

   Then in the end of the street I reached the important gate of old Fatimid Cairo, Bab Zuweila, from where the yearly pilgrimage ceremonies to Mecca took place. The Mahmal, the caravan carrying the cloth cover of the Ka3ba which was sewn and ornamented in Egypt, started its journey towards Mecca from here. This was also the site of hanging of the last Burgi Memluk Tuman Bay, by the invading Ottoman forces of Selim the first in 1517. To be noted that Zuweila was a Moroccan tribe coming as worriers with the armies of the Fatimid, who conquered Egypt and established a ruling dynasty in 969 AD. But the gate itself was constructed in 1092. There were a terrible prison beside the towers of the gate and there was another Burgi Memluk, who was imprisoned there, and vowed that if he was ever to become Sultan, that he will destruct the prison and build a mosque instead. He was the Emir turned Sultan, called al-Mu’ayyad who reigned in 1412 and built the magnificent and important complex mosque-madrasa-mausoleum in 1415. This became an important academic institution in the 15^th century throughout the middle east. Two fine minarets were erected, one above each tower of the gate, characterizing Bab Zuweila over any other gate of the Fatimid Cairo.  

End of part two (To be cont.)

NB. Some of the pictures in this post above are not mine, but taken from the Internet. 

A trip to part of Islamic Cairo - 1

   It is a non-planned trip that will be related here. I had the intention of visiting as much as I can of the Old Islamic Cairo for a long time, but this was procrastinated many times for many reasons. Lately I had bought an English booklet-guide on Islamic Cairo, which was by the way so well-written, the week before and read most of it, and the idea reappeared on the surface, that I must see for myself. While I was in Cairo for a work-abroad interview, and after finishing it, I found that it is still early till the time of the train back to Alexandria. So, I decided to get back to downtown Cairo and decide there, where I will spend the next six hours exactly and from where to start. I took a rapid meal first, then back on feet towards Opera Square. While I was walking, after consulting the map several times, I decided to start with the ‘Al Azhar’ district. Haphazardly, I followed a sign in Opera Square and while walking in its direction, I heard a woman yelling towards the driver of a small minibus to take her to ‘Ghureya’. So, this will be the start of my adventure.  I hopped in, with two companions, the woman and her girl who were going there.

   I asked the driver to drop me by the ‘Wekalet El Ghuri’. Sultan Al-Ashraf Qansuh El Ghuri, the second to last Burji Mamluk Sultan of Egypt and Sham who ruled since 1501 to 1516 AD. The Complex of EL Ghuri was built in 1504 AD. The driver headed there and on arriving, he told me, to get off because I am near it. He was not accurate. It was a chaotic place, that I found myself near, and completely unaided, searched around for clues to identify the place and buildings. At first, I was discouraged from the mess, the crowd, the traffic, the filthy streets and the noise, but I decided to discover more. I distinguished  - what I knew later from a search after returning to my city – that I am in a part of the El Mu3ez Le Deen Ellah street, which proved to be the southern part, which is known as El Ghureya. It is a market that infiltrates many historic monuments of different Islamic era. It was not Wekalet El Ghuri that I dropped by, but another salient feature of the Ghuri complex, his mosque-madrasa. I climbed the stairs cautiously and had a rapid peep inside, then returned discouraged to the street level. In front of it, I saw another feature of his complex, the mausoleum-khankah. I didn’t take any  photographs, giving the bad appearance and fearing to be mugged . I decided to drop going to the Wekala (caravanserai) this time and carry on inside the street to learn more.

   Continuing inside the street-market, I felt as if I am flashing-back in history, though the people had different outfits, modernity and some trivial additions. I presumed that the ancestors of the street vendors and those of the multitude of small shops on both sides of the street were working in the same trade. Every few meters your eyes will catch a monument of a different era, identifiable in its architecture and evidently variable  in its bad neglected current state.  People may be even living in or using the monument itself in such a way, that you feel that one day it will crumble on their heads. The condition has gone worth after the revolt of January 2011, when the state weakened greatly. To my astonishment, I found that some old raba3 (quarter) were demolished randomly and incompletely to make way for high rise apartment buildings, which is completely and lawfully forbidden here, but that a handful had seen the light of the day defying the law, the state and history. A complete architectural discord note among a melody of historical monuments! 

  
(First Part ends here. To be cont.) 

NB. (The pictures are not mine, they are from the Internet, the first depicts the Mausoleum of El Ghouri then his Mosque, then two pictures of his Wekala, from top to bottom.)