The mouchrabieyah shuts out all sound but the cooing of the doves and the soft flutter of their wings as they circle the plashing fountain. In such torrid rooms…the women, the wives, concubines, slaves and families of the Pachas or Beys knew no other life but that centered round their lord, obtaining or sharing his affections, or, greatly daring, embarking on intrigues and mischiefs to which their sensuality impelled them.
-Pavilions of the Heart, Leslie Blanch
Our shaaqa mafrusha (furnished apartment) on Tomb of Sa’ad [Zaghloul] Street felt appropriately tomb-like, being on the first floor behind a gas station next to the air compressor that switched on constantly and made us keep both windows and shutters permanently closed. It was dark as death inside. And torridly hot.
Egyptians don’t read much- as per the adage “Egypt writes, Beirut publishes, Baghdad reads”- so dim light bulbs were the norm, especially in rental apartments where the landlord had to pay the electricity bills, despite them being minimal because of the Aswan Dam’s cheap power supply.
There was no mashrabiyya filtering the dappled sunshine, no cooing of doves or “plashing” of fountains. We had only 40 watt bulbs and pumping air pistons in our three stifling bedrooms and shared sitting room. Robert was out every afternoon at the movies, I stayed late on campus full of real doves and fountains and natural sunlight, and Michael usually came home right after class to hit the books and start dinner. He liked to make Egyptian dishes and with our hired cook-cum-cleaner Adeela was pleased to share the kitchen.
Once I came home to find him stirring the big pot with the big spoon. What are you cooking, I asked. Oh nothing, said he, just my underwear. Adeela couldn’t get them clean with the warm water from the shower’s heater so I had to put them on to boil.
The French traveller Francois Bernier visited the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb’s court 300 years ago and made special note of “the drawers worn by females so delicately fine as to wear out in one night". That precious Indian trade reached Egypt and Gujarati textiles have been found in early Cairene Islamic burial sites. I doubt that Michael’s boiled briefs could pass that test of time. Or should be asked.
