Authors: Ahdaf Soueif
‘What do you think?’ Sharif Basha asks seriously. ‘Of the letter?’
‘It is a nonsense,’ Ya
qub Basha says.
‘It could not have been written by an Arab,’ Shukri Bey says. ‘It makes no sense.’
‘This is the work of an Englishman,’ Ya
qub Artin says. ‘An ignorant Englishman who imagines he knows how Arabs think.’
‘The Oriental Secretary,’ Sharif Basha says, ‘Mr Boyle.’
‘But why? Why would he write this?’
‘Because Cromer has asked for reinforcements of the Army of Occupation and he needs to persuade the Foreign Office of their necessity. So Boyle writes this letter and they send it to London pretending they have got it from one of their spies.’
‘I do not think Cromer would do that,’ Ya
qub Basha says.
‘This letter was sent to the Foreign Office,’ Sharif Basha says. ‘It is supposed to prove that a revolution is being planned.’
‘But it can prove nothing. It is a piece of stupidity.’
‘But the Foreign Office will not know that. They will read “camels” and “God is generous” and “odours of blessings” and they will say “fanatical Arabs” and send the troops.’
‘How did you get this?’ Shukri Bey asks.
‘I cannot tell you that.’
‘But what can we do with it?’
There is a silence. Then Ya
qub Basha says, ‘We can do
nothing. Even if we were to write a — a critique of this, showing how it is not Arabic — I would not have believed Cromer would do such a thing.’
‘He probably believes the spirit of it is true,’ Sharif Basha says.
‘But he knows the letter is not genuine,’ Shukri Bey says. ‘Unless — do you think Mr Boyle might have not told him?’
‘Impossible,’ Ya
qub Basha says. ‘Boyle is Cromer’s creature. He would not dream of tricking him.’
‘I think,’ Sharif Basha says, ‘the only thing we can do is to try to get someone in London to print this — if it is possible to do so without revealing how they came by it. Then we can be ready with a reply.’
‘It would be a very esoteric discussion,’ Ya
qub Basha says, ‘points of language, imagery. We would have to imagine what Mr Boyle wished the Arabic to say and then translate it correctly into English. The problem is too subtle. In a court perhaps you could present it, but to the general public, no.’
‘What else then?’ Shukri Bey asks.
‘We can take it to the Agency and stuff it down Cromer’s throat,’ Sharif Basha says. ‘Bring the revolution forward by a couple of months.’
‘But there is no revolution, is there?’ Ya
qub Artin says.
‘I do not know of one,’ Sharif Basha says. ‘But with the Army on alert and parading through the country …’ He pauses.
‘Of course, anything can happen,’ Shukri Bey says.
‘I have spoken to some young men in my office,’ Sharif Basha says, ‘asked them to find out for me. But I do not believe anyone is planning anything. We would have smelled it.’
14 June 1906
My husband tells me that his enquiries confirm his belief that no uprising is being planned by any section of the Nationalist Movement. Mustafa Kamel Basha is shortly to leave for Europe, once again hoping to arouse public opinion in support of
Egyptian Independence. My husband says there is no reason to expect anything but a quiet summer. Pray God he is right
.
Last night when he came upstairs he found me in Nur’s room. The child sleeps with her back curved in an athletic arch. He regarded her for a moment in the soft lamplight, and — smiling at me — said, ‘Look! She is flying.’
Am Abu el-Ma
ati comes to see me every few days. He has detailed a young woman from the village to look after me and I asked if she could bring a friend as I was working all day and she would be lonely. So Khadra and Rayyesa come for a few hours each day. They are both newly married and have no children yet. They dust and wash and water the garden. When the meals they prepare sit for days in the fridge, they stop cooking and bring me little dishes of whatever they are eating at home. And
Am Abu el-Ma
ati comes to see if I have everything I need, to sip tea with me on the veranda and bring me news of our village and the neighbouring lands. I tell him I am writing a history of my ancestors and he says he remembers my grandmother, for he was a young boy when she died. He brings the Qur
an from his house and shows me his name and the names of his father and six of his grandfathers, inscribed one after the other on the flyleaf.