Lyrics Alley Read Online Free PDF Page B

back of an armchair or playing with a doorknob in a way which irritated Nabilah. She would gaze dolefully at Nabilah’s wedding photographs without saying a single word. Or she would lean, slouching, on this piece of furniture or that and drawl, ‘how are you doing, Nabilah?’ without addressing her as Madame, Abla, Hanim or even Aunty.
    Soraya, too, floated in unannounced, to borrow books and never return them and to poke fun at how Ferial was covered in talcum powder and how Farouk’s accent was Egyptian. How else did she expect the children to speak if not like their mother!
    Nabilah kissed Farouk and Ferial the first of many goodnight kisses and prepared to tuck them into bed. They were the only children in the Abuzeid family who had bedtimes and a proper, decorated nursery, with beds of their own. The Sudanese did not understand about proper modern child-rearing, but she would teach them by example. Tonight, instead of a story, shewas explaining to the children the origin of their names.
    ‘You Farouk, were named after the King of Egypt and Sudan who granted Baba his bakawiyya. That’s why Baba is Mahmoud Bey. Not everyone can be called Bey, even if they wanted to. Only the King can decide.’
    Farouk smiled and slid deeper into his bed. Ferial was holding on to her mother’s hand.
    ‘And me, what about me?’
    ‘Wait. Farouk wants to ask something.’ He always needed encouragement. The boy opened his mouth, closed it again and then asked.
    ‘But not everyone addresses Baba as Mahmoud Bey. Some people call him Sayyid Mahmoud.’
    Nabilah sighed. ‘Some of the Sudanese don’t understand. They don’t appreciate the title. Your father should correct them, but he doesn’t.’
    ‘So Sayyid is not as good as Bey.’
    ‘Here in Sudan, Sayyid is the best way a man can be addressed. But your father—’
    She was interrupted by Ferial who, not only satisfied with putting her hand on her mother’s cheek, now pulled so that Nabilah had to turn and face her.
    ‘Don’t do that. It’s not polite.’
    The girl, whose hair was smooth in a ponytail, pressed her lips in annoyance.
    ‘What about my name,
my
name?’
    ‘Say sorry first, Ferial.’
    ‘Sorry.’
    ‘Say it like you mean it.’
    ‘Sorry, Mama.’
    ‘That’s better.’
    Nabilah kissed her cheek and smoothed her hair. What a blessing from God that her daughter did not have coarse hair! She had worried about this constantly during her pregnancy.
    ‘You were named after a princess. Princess Ferial is the eldestdaughter of the King.’ The girl squirmed with pleasure. ‘Now into bed.’
    She tucked her lively daughter in bed but Ferial was wide awake. ‘When Grandma comes from Cairo will she be the one telling us bedtime stories?’ The children knew that Nabilah had sent a telegram to Qadriyyah Hanim telling her about Mahmoud’s illness and begging her for a visit.
    Now she sighed.
    ‘She won’t be able to come. Next time I put a call to her, I will let you speak for a little while. Oh, if only we were in Cairo now! I am sure Baba would not have been so ill, for I am sure the doctors in Cairo are better than the ones here.’
    It still did not feel right that they were in Sudan. This had not been the original arrangement when they first got married. The original arrangement was that she would live in the flat Mahmoud had set up for her in Cairo, and that he would spend lengthy visits with her. After all, his business required that he spend several months in Cairo and it made sense to have a home there instead of his suite in the Shepheard’s Hotel. Nabilah would be his Egyptian wife in Cairo and Hajjah Waheeba his Sudanese wife in Umdurman. It had made perfect sense, and years passed that way, successfully, but suddenly he proposed to move her and the children here. Nabilah’s mother encouraged her to accept and Mahmoud Bey assured them that Nabilah would have her own quarters; she would be independent of Hajjah Waheeba and the rest of the Abuzeid