Chapter four "Pretty Egypt"

Chapter four.

There was a small arched window above the iron bed. A narrow shaft of gold escaped through its firmly shut wooden shutters falling directly over the girl's quiescent figure. Rays of lights caressed her peaceful, sleeping face, with gentle strokes effused with warmth of the new day. Gameela woke up from her cozy slumber and slowly opened her drowsy eyelids. She stretched her rested limbs and then curled her firm rosy lips in a smile. She pushed aside the bed cover, climbed out of her bed, and reached out to the window with long thin fingers. She unlocked the windowpane and pushed aside the green-colored wooden shutters. The pearly shine of the captive light burst through her small room. Dark hazel eyes closed momentarily. Her senses were highlighted as she listened. Melodies played in her ears as she heard birds sing, sparrows twitter, and pigeons cooing. Her small pretty nose snuffed in the sweet, earthy smell of the garden. A bouquet of delicious scents infused her nostrils. She picked up the lavish, strong whiffs of jasmine and lavender. Gameela opened her eyes and peered down the walls of the house from her window. Ivy vines scrambled up the sides of the house, and intertwining Jasmine branches sprawled over the garden walls.

Gameela's fingers sought the neat, smartly cut uniform. It seemed perfect and modern. She handled it with care as she put on. The soft fabric hugged her figure graciously in a perfect fit. The full-length skirt flared a bit under her perfect waist. A laugh escaped her smiling face as she twirled around in delight. She felt special. She wished she had a mirror in the room. She wanted to see how her figure looked like in something other than her grey galabeya with the frayed hems and uneven sleeves. There was a nice pair of shoes to go with it which felt so comfortable in comparison to her ruined sandals.

With contended, confident steps she reached the brass handle and opened the door of her perfect room. Once she walked through the now light-filled corridor, feelings of fear and uncertainty gripped her heart. She decided to scuttle those feelings away. Her Aunt said they had many good things in this place. She walked a short distance to the narrow spiral stairs, but there was another staircase.

Which was it, this one or the other? One of them leads to the servant's hall. What about the other one? Where would it take me?  Gameela wondered with curiosity ensnaring her large, dark eyes. She decided to follow her instinct and go down the spiral staircase; the other one looked wide and comfortable in comparison.

Gameela's instincts had been right and after a few dizzy minutes down the unwinding stairs she found her self standing a foot away from the Kitchen's doorway. She smoothed her new uniform looked down at her shoes, and then walked in.

"Sabah el Kheir ya habibty. Good morning dear. Weshek wala el amar…you look so pretty. This uniform suits you well. Come now, we have work to do. The pasha and Lady Evelyn will be up in half an hour. Miss Hanna' is already up with Mademoiselle Sophie."

"Who is Miss Hanna' aunt Saneya? And what did you just say? mad..madi..wazel what?"

Saneya laughed at the girl's question, making Gameela feel conscious of her ignorance and naivety.

"Miss Hanna' is their daughter, a kind little one, so unlike her mother. Mademoiselle Sophie is the French governess that teaches and looks after Miss Hanna'."

"But her name is so difficult madwa..madwee.. Can you repeat that? I don't want to say the woman's name improperly."

Saneya laughed again staggering her heavy body from side to side, she kept laughing until tears came to her eyes.

Gameela stood rooted to her spot feeling stupid. Her face flushed with embarrassment. "What is it ya amity, why are you making fun of me? I know I'm an ignorant fallaha, but you don't have to make me feel terrible."

"Honey, don't be upset, I'm an ignorant fallaha just like you! Look my dear, look ya habibty. Mademoiselle is not a name it's a title like miss, and mister, only it is in French. You get that? Now come here. You need to meet the rest of the staff. They're all good people." Just as her aunt finished her sentence, a handsome looking woman in her forties walked in. She had plumb, generous curves, a luminous tanned complexion, and a set of aquamarine eyes.

The woman smiled at Gameela revealing a dimple in her left cheek. "Biennvnute, Ahlan was sahlan. You must be Gameela, Saneya's niece, I'm Lydia!"

The woman reached out her hands and vigorously shook Gameela's. The girl felt dizzy for a moment, but yet smiled at Lydia, and felt comfortable around her. It was obvious that Lydia wasn't Egyptian like them.

"Lydia hanem, hadreetek konty feen? Where were you Miss Lydia, I'm all alone here. Come on get the pastry from the oven right now, and get on to making those eggs of yours, what you call them?"

"Frittata, all those years and you still can't remember the name of a simple dish!."  The woman's face sprung with a lively expression. She waved her hand a lot as she spoke.

"Tyb, Tyb firtatah, whatever. Gameela sort the food here. Each kind in a separate dish. The white cheese in a dish alone, the tomatoes and cucumber in another dish, the salami bardo in another dish and the pastry here get this large serving plate…hurry!."

"And where is Haneya? This lazy good-for nothing girl will get herself sacked if she goes on like this."

"Walahy ya Lydia, I don't know. She'll be getting married soon and leaving, so probably she no longer cares."

The three women worked in a hurry, moving about the kitchen, occasionally bumping against each other. There was the sizzling sound of the eggs as they hit the pan, the aroma of thyme and cheese, and the whistle of the giant tea kettle.

"Come on. Follow me Gameela, we have to place everything in the dining hall before they walk in on us." Saneya moved as quickly as her body could allow her. Gameela followed holding many plates all at once.  They crossed the corridor from the servant's hall moved right and then straightforward to the heart of the house.

The girl stood dumb-folded for a moment as she allowed her eyes to take in the magnificence and the richness that surrounded her. Silk draped curtains, Persian rugs, tapestries on the wall, marble topped tables at many corners. Incredible furniture gilded in gold and upholstered in radiant fabrics of blue, gold and white. Tall French style windows allowed light to gracefully move around the house. Gameela's eyes towered upwards to the huge crystal chandelier that sparkled with a rainbow of colors as light fell on it. The dangling crystals shimmered like stars in the dark of the night. She nearly dropped the plates she was holding when she heard her aunt's voice.

"Gameela, hurry. What are you doing standing there? Come over here"

Gameela walked through the elegant hall into the dinning room. A huge table stood in the center. Gameela's eyes widened and were frozen in shock when she saw four statues of naked women holding up the table. Their insolent vivid coloring and detailed anatomy scourged Gameela's innocence. The girl swerved her head away as though someone slapped her across the face. She looked at her aunt who seemed unfazed by this picturesque display.

"Gameela what's wrong? Come on, hurry! Oh you're shocked by these. Don't be honey you'll find a lot of those everywhere, on clocks, and in paintings, and other pieces of furniture. Now come and put the plates here."

Gameela walked, moved and shifted absent-mindedly still in shock. Her eyes stole another shiftless, temporary look at the nude figures standing with raised hands and opened palms. A shrinking feeling seized her as she felt conscious of every part of her body.

As they assorted the plates on the table, a dark colored man in white followed with more plates.

"Keda ya Othman, kont feen? Where were you Othman?" Saneya switched her head to Gameela," Gameela take the plates from Othman el sofragi."

They carefully laid the dishes and cutlery in place, with the food at the centre of the table and hurried back to the servant's quarters.

"Gameela, Take this Jug of orange juice, go there to the dining room, and stand to the side of the buffet table. Amm Othman, take the tea-tray and go with her."

Gameela and Amm Othman stood by the large dinning table, Gameela tried to focus on anything else other than the insolent figurines.

"Listen Gameela, when their excellencies arrive, you wait until they are seated, and after a couple of minutes you go pour the juice in each glass on the right, and then you come back here, and wait until they are finished with their breakfast. You eyes should never come in contact with any of them. They should not feel your presence. You should remain almost invisible." Gameela nodded her head feeling the weight of the smooth glass jug she was holding. She straightened up, and looked ahead, and then her eyes jumped to the prim figure descending the stairs.

A tall man, dressed elegantly in a lavish suite, with a maroon red tarboosh tipped slightly to the side of his head. She watched the set of his shoulders as he moved, radiating a precarious and over-bred finesse. A gray short beard sprawled from his chin. His face projected an aura of grandeur and good looks. His pale complexion contrasted nicely with the red of his tarboosh. His expression neutral, he wasn't smiling, nor was her scowling. He simply walked with unhurried steps until he reached his place at the head of the table. Gameela's eyes met his only briefly and somehow she saw nothing in them. No compassion, no fear, and no determination, just cold emptiness.

Another long-limbed figure followed suite, a woman Gameela thought initially of as one with unsurpassed beauty. She had never seen any woman in her life with such white complexion before, like the beams of silver light that spread through the darkened skies announcing the beginning of a new day.  The Lady's face also reminded her of the clouds of cotton she hand-picked in the fields. A healthy, radiant blush added to her splendor. Her eyes were a deep set blue, the color of her mother's favorite head scarf. Her straight hair was the color of yellowed silk, so brilliant in its shine. Gameela wondered what was it like to touch those strands, they must feel supple and soft between her fingers. As the woman approached, Gameela noticed how her eyebrows crossed, forming little furrows above the bridge of her aristocratic nose, projecting a look of discontentment in her eyes. The sound of her heals clicked markedly against the marble floors, and her pretty dress swished angrily as she moved. She reached the side furthest from the Pasha, rather than sitting by his side. Gameela wondered why this woman hadn't immediately assumed a place beside her husband, since every woman's rightful and only place is beside or behind her husband.

Gameela waited in anticipation for the little miss to show, but no one else showed.

The Pasha leafed through his morning papers, not even casting a glance at his wife. Lady Evelyn proceeded with buttering a slice of bread. Gameela raced to fill the Pasha's cup and then hurried all the way to the opposite side of the table to fill the Lady's cup. Her hands trembled as she poured down the juice. She walked with calculated steps, trying not to run back to Amm Othman's side. She thanked God for not having spilled any drop on the Lady's dress.

"Where is Hanna'? Why didn't she join us for breakfast?" The Pasha asked his wife without averting his eyes from the newspaper.

"I sent her with the chauffeur to spend a week at your sister's farm in El Minya. Mademoiselle Sophia is accompanying her. The girl is growing restless and bored since mother left for England, and besides I don't have time for her endless whining, and nagging about not having friends. It's not my fault there aren’t any decent schools in this country, and you just won't let me send her to a boarding school!"

The Pasha completely ignored his wife's remarks, put the papers aside and then reached out for his juice before he spoke again. "The King is sick. They say he won't last till the end of the year."

"Yes, so I've heard. Uncle Miles mentioned something of the sort at the ball yesterday." Replied the Lady nonchalantly.

"Did Lord Lampson mention anything about the guardians of the young Farouk? I can't imagine how this adolescent kid could rule Egypt."

"Hasanien Pasha is one of the guardians that's for sure, I don't know anything about the rest. I heard they're sending Farouk to study in a military academy in England."

"Sounds convenient, this way his loyalty would belong to the English. I wonder what the Wafd Party and Nahas Pasha would have to say about this."

"Remember Murat, We hold the upper hand in this country."

There wasn't any exchange of words after that, they ate in silence. The Pasha finished his frittata, and Othman moved and presented the plate of croissants. The Lady barely ate. Gameela thought this frown she wore on contorted her beautiful, precise features. She looked restless, and on edge. Her eyes darted between the Pasha and the food, looking around as if search for something.

"By the way, Kout el Kloub Hanem El-Demirdash, is hosting one of her famous literary salons tomorrow, and we're invited. This is the second time she's invited us. I think we should arrange a banquet here in the house in her honor. This woman is very influential, and I believe it is best to keep her happy. Don't you agree Murat?"

The Pasha swallowed the very last piece of his scrumptious freshly-baked croissant, wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, and then lingered for a moment before he spoke.

"Yes indeed darling, whatever you say."

"Who could believe that her father Demirdash Pasha was a Soufi. Can you believe the amount of money he blundered away to built this public hospital? Insane don't you think? He even donated some of the estate around his mansion. Just unbelievable! This huge amount of money should've been properly invested rather than wasted like that."

The Pasha merely nodded his head as Othman poured tea in the languorous blue and white china tea cup. Gameela thought it strange that the Pasha's eyes trailed the spiraling steam from the tea, but were never on his wife.

"Murat, I want to talk to you about the help. I need more servants in this house. Kout El Kloub Hanem has an army of servants while I only have a handful." Her eyes traveled to Othman and then to Gameela.

"You." The lady suddenly blurted, pointing a delicate finger at Gameela.

Gameela felt acute fear take complete charge of her body. She didn't understand English yet the Lady's pointing finger, left no room for doubt. The Lady spoke to her and to her alone. She turned her frail figure to the contemptuous woman without looking her in the eyes.

"You're new here, who hired you? Why didn't anyone notify me? This is my bloody house, damn it. I have the right to choose my own help, or is it that any rag of filth could now be allowed into my house, my own house!" Her eyes swerved sharply to the Pasha, as she stressed on last two words, giving them a purposely ominous tone.

He gave a frustrated weary sigh, and with a wave of his hands dismissed Othman and Gameela. He tried to speak in a controlled voice. "Lady Evelyn may I have a word with you please?"

Gameela and Othman rushed to the stairs that led to the entrance hall, but Gameela deiced to stay and watch from between the rails. In spite of the distance between the stairs and Dining hall across, Gameela was able to witness the look of vehemence on the Lady's face that almost spewed smoke from her flaring nostrils.

"What?" Lady Evelyn said in a rather unusually loud tone.

"How dare you embarrass me in front of the servants Evelyn? Weren't you just complaining about the shortage of help? There, I let Saneya bring this girl. The girl started work immediately and hadn't done anything offending."

"Saneya again Murat. I hate this woman. I don't want her near me or in my property and you still insist to keep her, and now more filth from her side. The fact that I turned a blind eye doesn't mean I forgive you. More fellaheen bastards. No I won't have it in my house!"

"I did nothing wrong for you to forgive or not, this happened a long time before we wed. I'm warning you Evelyn, if you ever raise your voice again in my presence….."

"What will you do Murat? You'll throw me out. You know as well as I do that if it wasn't for papa and Uncle Miles your business would've been in the ruin. Be grateful Murat, and please for once treat me right. I'm Lady Evelyn Lampson. I left England, left my life there and decided to stay here in this abdominal land just for you. Don't make me regret this."

Now the Pasha's face was as red as the tarboosh he was wearing. He ensnared her with a look of hatred and left abruptly, slamming behind him the massive entrance door.

Gameela hurried out of sight and ran straight to the corridor that led to the kitchen. Her aunt and Othman were waiting for her, a look of worry and fear on their faces. Lydia walked in, and started to talk before her aunt had a chance.

"My poor child, sit down, shall I bring you a cup of water. Evelina could be harsh sometimes, but she's not all bad believe me. I've been with her family ever since she was a little child. Come sit my bella, sit down."

Gameela did as Lydia told her and sat down at the large table. She swung over her head towards her aunt with questioning eyes that pleaded for an answer.

"Habibty, hasal kheir. It's going to be alright Gameela. Don't worry. I'm sorry my child. I shouldn't have sent you out there before notifying the Lady. Forgive me child. But don't worry. The Pasha won't let you go. That I am sure of. Don't you ever worry." The determination and confidence in her Aunt's voice struck Gameela as strange. How could she be very sure? What did the Lady mean when she said Saneya again? What happened a long time ago?

Gameela swallowed the swigs of water without speaking. Her sad eyes stared in the distance, her mind distracted.

No one had ever embarrassed her before. She had always been a proud girl, poor but proud. She earned the respect of her male peers in the Qur'anic school in the village. She had a sense of purpose when she ploughed and sowed the fields with her parents.  She had been armed with the love of her family: her mother's tender touch and prayers and her father's unending affection. Where was she now from all this? She was now an orphan with severed roots, tossed out, alone, trying to squirm away from the clutches of this cruel new life.  The taste of humiliation was bitter in her mouth. Was this just the beginning? Or was it the end? Shiekh Hosny was right. The Engleez were evil. They were the disease that tore away the beauty and ardor of this land. Gameela clutched the side of her temple as she pondered her fate in desperation. She stared back at her supposed aunt, and then looked at the flagstone floor of the kitchen.