Al-Zayyat, Latifa; Marilyn Booth (tr.);
The Open Door [al-Bab al-maftuh, 1960]
American Univ in Cairo Press, 2002, c2000, 380 pages [gbook]
ISBN 9774246985, 9789774246982
topics: | fiction | arabic | egypt | gender
Undoubtedly one of my most powerful novels about a girl coming of age. That it happens in Egypt makes little difference - though the cultural mores seem more restrictive (though India in the 50s was pretty much the same)... and the outside world is not that much different.
set in the time of Egypt's war of independence, 1946 to 1956, when the masses revolted against the monarchy established by the British in 1922. The insurrection culminated in the Free Officer’s Revolution of 1952, and Nasser’s nationalization of the Suez Canal in 1956, leading to an Israeli-British-French attack. The specific period covered in the open door starts on February 21, 1946, when there were massive demonstrations against the British (the Ismaliya square episode mentioned in the opening pages). Meanwhile the British continued to occupy the Suez Canal Zone, which by a treaty from 1936, should have reverted to Egypt in 1949. The continued unhappiness resulted in increased numbers of youth (including Layla's brother Mahmud) joining the civilian fedayeen in guerrilla warfare in the canal zone. The fedayeen youth were very highly regarded in Egypt, and were tacitly supported by much of the army and police. On January 25, 1952 the British army massacred dozens of weakly-armed egyptians at a police barracks harbouring some fedayeen in the town of Ismailia (on the Suez). The one-sided killings led to widespread riots, called the Cairo Fires, in which 750 buildings were looted and many of them set afire. This is the scene of Layla's insane rage after discovering Isam's relationship with the maid.
The open-door is perhaps a forerunner in a long line of postcolonial literature featuring coming-of-age in troubled times. In recent years, I can think of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half of a Yellow Sun, Shyam Selvadurai's Funny boy, Preeta Samarasan's ''Evening is the whole day'', Romesh Gunesekera's Reef, and from the same period as the Open Door, samaresh majumdar's kAlbelA... Another interesting observation is how servants feature prominently in all these coming of age novels set in the developing world; indeed, the servant boy Triton is the protagonist in Gunesekera's Reef and his coming of age in war-torn Sri Lanka forms the core of the narrative set against the distant beats of the Tamil insurgency. (This insurgency comes closer in The Funny Boy). Preeta Samaresan also uses the servant Chillam to frame a good bit of her story set in riot-torn malaysia. In the Open Door, servants hover in the background, and except for the relationship one has with Isam, they do not enter the main storyline. As an aside, the presence of servants in these novels reminds one of victorian era novels - in which also it is the youngsters, like David Copperfield's Peggotty, who pay more attention to servants. Of course, it also attests to the disappearance of this sharp class divide in the west of today. While the turmoil and violence in the world around them gives a sharp edge to these stories, in the open door, in the end it is the universality of the conflict between the growing Layla and her parents that I found most fascinating.
When Gamal 'Abd al-Nasser nationalized the Suez canal in July 1956, the Arab world heralded him as a hero... the moment ended a decade of turbulent political activity in Egypt that was trying to free itself from British oversight and the political system of the past. ... a deacde of struggle, of disullusionment and hardship, a decade of youth activism and of popular optimism. This is the decade that Latifa al-Zayyat chronicles in her classic novel. ix In her autobiographical meditation, Hamlat taftish: awraq shakhsiya, (Operation search: personal papers, 1992), al-Zayyat describes her childhood in the Delta cities of Dimyat (Damietta) and Mansura... the rooftops of her childhood homes become mysterious because they are unattainable, then sites of desire, refuges, places of imagined freedom from the constraints of social existence. In one of her homes, the stairs to the roof is inhabited by a snake that will not succumb to snake-charmers. In another rooftop, the 7 year-old Latifa encounters the young poet (22) Sha'ir al-Hamshari (1908-38), who had perhaps rented the room on the roof. Here she grows up with an elder brother. from Aisha Taymur (1840-1902), in preface to al-Taimuriyya Says the one with the broken wing, Aisha Ismat, daughter of Ismail Pasha Taimur (1830-1895, khedive 1863-79): Ever since my cradle cushion was rolled up, and my foot roved the carpet of the world, ever since I became aware of where enticements and reason dwelt for me, I gre conscious of the inviolable space around my father and grandfather -- ever since that time, my fledgling aim was to nurse eagerly on the tales - I aged while still young trying to get to the root of the words of those who have gone before. I used to be infatuated with the evening chatter of the elderly women, wanting to listen to the choicest stories... Bearing the instruments of embroidery and weaving, [my mother] began to work seriously on my education. But I had no desire to become refined in the occupations of women. I used to flee from her as the prey escapes the net, rushing headlong into assemblages of writers, with no sense of embarrassment.
[discussion on street after that morning's protest in Ismailiya Square -
mIdAn Ismaileyya, currently known as Tahrir Square or midAn at-tAhrIr.
Tahrir = freedom; name given in 1952.]
"Those boys were ripping off their gallabiyas, soaking them in gas, and
setting fire to them. They were totally in flames, might eat up a guy's
whole body but what did they care? They would just crawl along, bullets
pouring down like rain, paying no attention, no, sir, went on moving, right
to the attack. . . . " - p.4
"Could there be any doubt?"
[Isam says this, 2x on two pages - p.13, 14; later Fuad says "Is there any
doubt?" - perhaps a colloquialism in Arabic? ]
"You know - you know when you slaughter a hen and the blood runs out" - his
voice was a whisper - "And the hen goes on moving, just for a moment, and then
falls down, boom, and that's it?" His eyes grew dark and his face went
gloomy. ... "People died, lots of people - and that's exactly how they died."
p.12
[gets up early to get to the paper before her father or brother. has to
refold the paper and keep it back as if new, "vexed at what what she had to
do out of fear of her father's scathing remarks."
[girl adoration of maths teacher miss nawal, who "preferred mannish
clothing", her "delicate lips would disappear whenever she tried to hold back
a smile." p.16]
[but she is weak in maths]
In Arabic composition her mind worked just fine; one word brought another,
and one sentence yielded the next, and her hand flew to keep up with her
mind: a flitting bird, streaking through the sky far above the flock... But
in arithmetic, where was she? With a grocer, selling sugar and buying oil.
With a faucet, dripping X number of times per minute. With a basin, filling
slowly to the brim with all those uncountable drops. She was with numbers
that danced before your eyes without any beauty or sense. 19
[her first period.]
"What is that bit of red on your pinafore, Layla?" her friend Adila asks.
Gamila gently drew Layla away. In the school bathroom she cut away the red
spot with a razor. 21
[I had understood the second sentence above to have occurred somewhat after
the first; and that it was Layla who cut away the spot. But the "she" in
S2 is Gamila, not Layla.
from Joseph Zeidan: Arab women novelists: the formative years and
beyond: bloodstain on Layla's skirt is removed by her cousin, not
herself.]
Her father would be happy to know [of her becoming a woman], she was sure.
as he had been when Mahmud's chin had sprouted a beard.
On that day, she recalled, her father had stopped Mahmud and had drawn him
over to the window where the light was stronger. ...
[but today] a sobbing wail - her father's tones... "Lord, give me strength!
She's just a helpless girl! Protect us, Lord, protect us! Shield us from
harm!"
[insider her bedroom] Layla tugged at the coverlet, yaning it over her body,
over her face, pulling it to the top of her head. p.23
It is only much later that she realizes why her friends had given her that
melancholy gaze, or why her father had wept.
To reach womanhood was to enter a prison where the confines of one's life weere
clearly and decisively fixed.... Prison life is painful for both the warden and
the woman she imprisons... 24
Layla's father had outlined those confines as the family sat around the
table, eating lunch.
"Layla, you must realize that you have grown up. From now on you are
absolutely not to go out by yourself. No visits. Straight from home to
school."
[Mahmud is told not to bring his girlie magazines and hide them.]
The worst of it was that she never knew what might turn out to be
"improper" or "inappropriate". A sudden laugh, straight from the heart,
was "improper." Too loud. Any frank or sincere statement was "out of
bounds". Out of what bounds? The bounds of polite conduct. 24
And then there was the matter of sitting. "Goodness, Layla! Either you
sprawl across the chair like a know-it-all or you swing one leg across the
other - what will people say?"
If she refrained from going into the living room to greet guests, her
mother accused her of being "a recluse - you don't like anyone." But if
she did go in and greet them, her mother scolded her for not conversing
animatedly. Yet if she spoke up, her mother said she was interfering in
adults' business. If she stayed, sitting in silent politeness, her mother
waved her out of the room. But whenever she tried to make a hasty retreat,
her mother would say, "Why were you in such a rush?"
"Mama I don't know what do do! You've completely confused me now.
Everything I do turns out to be wrong, wrong, wrong!"
"Whoever lives by fundamentals can't possibly go wrong."
"So what are these fundamentals?"
"The fundamentals are when one..." And so her mother would set new
limits, new restrictions... They were like water dripping rhythmically
onto a sleeping person, stealing the sleep from her eyes, drop by drop,
hour after hour, day by day, year after year.
And year after year, Layla grew. p.25-26
If she sat down she found it almost impossible to settle into any
position. She never knew where to put her hands ; they seemed bodies apart,
foreign to her. 27
in her room she could live, with her dreams and her joys, her bruises and her
longings for for things she could not even define, desires that now and
again she could feel cavorting through every speck of her being p.32
she would bury her open mouth in a heap of clothes and scream with all her
might. 33
[they are being served sherbets at Samia Hanim's] She could see her
mother's hand out, suspended in the air, while the sufragi who served
them, suddenly realizing his blunder, stepped swiftly back from her mother
with his full tray of sherbets, swinging around to offer them first to
Zaynab Hanim, the guest of importance.
The worst of it was that her mother had not even been angry.
Her mother says later: "Everyone has their own slot in this world"...
Layla: "And this Zaynab Hanim - what makes her better than you? Because
she's rich?"
Mother: Yes, because she's rich. 34
[Samia H looks to L, praising the quality of a singer. L says that "he
sounds like he's crying when he sings". SH gets up and leaves in a huff.]
Mother: If everyone said whatever was on their mind the world would have
gone up in flames long ago.
Layla: So people should just lie, you mean.
M: That's not lying -- that's being courteous. One has to make people feel
good. Flatter them.
L: even when you don't like them?
M: even when you don't like them. 35
Her father raised objections even to the thought of Layla studying
secondary school and if it hadn't been for Mahmud she would not have been
able to go on with her studies. Let alone university!! 36
the man she imagined, the man who would fall in love with her, would be
nothing like Sidqi. Nor would he be like her father; in fact, he would not
be like any man she had ever met... [But there is no alternative]
Now supposing Sidqi were to fall in love with her...
They would walk into the garden. The light of the moon would shimmer
through the tree branches, throwing golden patches onto the garden path;
the fragrance of narissus would encase them. In an unsteady voice from
which the usual arrogance had vanished he would say, "Layla....," as she
gazed into her eyes. He sould sound flustered; his voice would wobble.
"Layla, there's something I want to tell you but I don't know where to
start." She would simply laugh and run ahead of him, and when he had almost
caught up she would whirl her head round and flash him a look out of the
corner of her eye.
"What is it you want to say, Sidqi Bey?"
"Please, Layla, please stop this Bey business."
She would shrug lightly and bend over the basin of carnations. She would
pick one - a red one - and bring it to her nose. Then she would scatter the
petals, one by one, tossing them into the air.
[how completely bollywood, this sequence - and then]
... but that was just Yusuf Wahbi in the movies. 37-38
[are egyptian movies stereotyped on bollywood dreams?]
[Layla recollects Dawlat Hanim (aunt). She was 17 then:
"No one's ever too young (for marriage). Stand up, Layla."
Dawlat Hanim facing her, probing her. Pulling her closer, Dawlat Hanim
ran her right hand slowly from top to toe, and then from bottom to top,
stopping as it crept up to her waist and then again on her chest.
"The girl has to have a proper dress, one that reveals her shape, and she
needs a corset to lift her breasts and keep her middle in. As she is now,
she is a disaster."
"Shame on you," she faced Umm Layla sternly. "If she doesn't dress
right, she won't bring any sort of price in the market." 41
Layla jumped up from bed. She was nothing but a jariya, a slave in the slave market.
Layla sank into the cushions of the Asyuti armchair, hugging her legs to
her chest. This was life. Whenever a girl was born, they smiled in
resignation.
[There is a lot of the body in al-Zayyat, which hand, which leg, how they
sprawl, how they move...]
They taught a girl to lie - to wear a corset tthat would pull in her middle
and lift her chest so her price would go up in the market and she could
marry. Marry whom? Any old person; after all, "the only thing that can
shame a man is his pocket." 41
Layla, to her mother, about Dawlat Hanim: Does she want to kill me like she
killed her daughter?
M: Hold that tongue of yours if you want to keep it.
L (as if merely repeating a widely known fact): Didn't she kill her daughter?
M: ...Where did you hear that?
L: I just know. I know why she killed herself too, Mama. Did Dawlat Hanim
make her swallow the poison? She was the one who poisoned her life, and
closed the doors of mercy in her face. Safaa had nothing else - no
alternative but poison.
Her mouth wide open, Layla's mother hurried from the room 42
she heard that Safaa had killed herself by swallowing an entire bottle of
sleeping pills, which she had been taking to help her sleep in the shadow of
a husband whose pocket was the only thing that did not shame him. What L did
not know then was that Safaa had died on the very night that she had gone in
desperation to her mother. Dawlat Hanim had gone by the rules -- by those
"fundamentals" - and had refused to shelter her. She had slammed the door in
Safaa's face. So Safaa had returned to her husband's home and killed
herself. She had learned after a time of the love story and the request for
divorce and her husband's refusal... 43-44
At her wit's end, Layla struck her palms together soundlessly and got up to
pace the room 44
The headmistress says, Woman's job is motherhood. Woman's place was in the
home. Weapons and fighting were for men.
A dark figure, her short curls bouncing, broke the ranks. She mounted the
four steps and stood in front of the headmistress. Her voice shook as it
came through the microphone.
"Our esteemed headmistress says that woman belongs in the home and man
belongs in the struggle. I want to say that when the English were killing
Egyptians in 1919 they didn't distinguish between women and men. And when
the English stole the Egyptians' freedom they did not distinguish between
women and men... 48
The woman is "Samia Zaki. In her prep year, science division". 48-9
[She joins the demonstration despite Gamila's objections]
"Suppose your family sees you - your father, or Mahmud!" 49
[in the demonstration] she felt an embarrassed shyness about her full body
and was sure that every pair of eyes on the street was focusing on her. The
rhythmic yells surged like waves... she felt a surge of energy. She felt
alive, at once strong and weightless, as if shee were one of those birds
circling above. [her voice] seemed not her own, it united the old Layla with
her future self and with the collective being of these thousands of people -
faces, faces as far as she could see. 51
[this transcending feeling is like that of Bahiah in al-sadAwi's
movie, Two womenin One ]
[on returning home, her father beats her with sandals]. 51-2
Everything she did, she did with her whole heart, she pitched right in, heart
and soul, and she always thought that was right, but lo and behold, every
time it turned out to be wrong. Everything she did - mistake upon mistake,
and now, no one was left to love her. 54
Adila would have said: It was your mistake. You didn't speak up when they
got on your case, because you're weak. In the end, you're just a feeble
person. 54
[Isam comes to her room and is trying to pacify her.]
He leaned down and put his hand gently on her cheek, stroking it from
bottom to top, and pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen across her
forehead. 58
"Listen Isam, I'm not a child--" As angry as her voice was, she left her
sentence incomplete as she saw Isam's face convulse as if he were in severe
pain. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead, and his breath flew hot into her
face. She felt his body touching hers, and stepped back as far as she could,
until she was plastered against the window frame. Isam's features relaxed,
his eyes softened, and they glowed in a way that pierced her body, a glow
that came to rest somewhere unfathomable inside of her... [59]
[The confusion of Layla's generation of women who have been exposed to a
broader education, is expressed by her friend Sanaa:]
Our mothers were the harem - things possessed by their fathers, who
passed them onto husbands. But us? -- we don't have any excuses. 77
Even animals choose their mates.
For us the situation is so different, because the harem mentality has
changed. Today's girl doesn't accept what her mother took as
given... 78
Adila: Wallahi, we're the ones in a real bind!
At the very least our mothers knew exactly what their circumstances
were. We don't understand - are we the harem or not? We don't know
whether love is haram, prohibited by religion, or permitted, halal.
Our families say it's haram while the state radio day and night
sings love love love, and books tell a girl, "Go on, you're free and
independent," and if a girl believes that, she's got a disaster on
her hands and her reputation will to to hell. 79
diff transln :
Our mothers knew their situation, whereas we are lost. We do not know
if we are in a harem or not, or whether love is forbidden or
allowed. Our parents say its forbidden, yet the government-run radio
sings day and night about love. Books tell women they are free, and yet
if a woman really believes that, a catastrophe will happen and her
reputation will be blackened.
- from http://www.aljadid.com/essays_and_features/RememberingLatifaal-Zayyat.html
[I think Booth is more lucid, and the reduplication love love love
has a more Arabic ring to it]
Isam doesn't show up for many days. Then he comes. "But, you didn't come, Isam." He turns his face away. "I was afraid, Layla". Layla's hand fluttered uncertainly to her own chest. "Afraid -- of me?" "Afraid for you." "From what?" He hesitated. "From myself, and people, and circumstances... " 84 Mahmud: Dor a man to marry he has to love, and also the girl, right? Isam: Now suppose, for instance, that Layla was in love. What would you do? Mahmud: Layla! My sister Layla? The colour drained out of Mahmud's face. I: Just suppose. Mahmud let out his breath and shrugged: Suppose why! Layla's young, she doesn't pay attention to these things. I: See - just as I said. It's all just high-flown, lofty talk. It's the one on shore who is the best swimmer. L laughed: Yes, Mahmud. If you found I was in love, what would you do? M: grabbed her and yanked her: I'd kill you. That's what I'd do. I'd just kill you. 90-91 mulukhiya: M dipped his spoon into the bowl of mulukhiya. [vegetable stew made from leaves of jute etc.] 91 tirmis beans : beans soaked one day w many changes of water, then boiled to remove bitterness 93 http://cookeatshare.com/recipes/egyptian-tirmis-567813 Proverb: [after M decides to give up his doctor's job and fight in the Suez] L: close the door from whence the wind comes 94
It rushes forth, a clear, bubbling spring. The bogs though, have done their best to block its passage. Intent on sucking that lovely running water dry, they try to absorb of it into themselves, to consume it completely, to transform it with their sluggishness into a stagnant pond. The spring is still young, nevertheless, buoyant with life, excitable, and deep; ;and the bogs are ancient, sedimented over their many years of existence, crouching in quiet defiance across the land of Egypt. The bubbling, ebullient water slowly carves a bed from the resistant mud... pounding on, roiling, alive, moulding its destination. Yet there, at the end of its way, sits a dam of solid rock. The bogs lie in sure wait, chiding the stream. There is nothing to be gained by pushing on, young friend, no use in rushing ahead. The stagnant stillness of those glinting patches speak for itself: quietude is partner to good judgment. 98 [Mahmud and Isam will both go join the fighting in Suez] Samira Hanim felt exactly like a beloved and loving wife who, with the sudden discovery of her husband's infidelity, is benumbed by the shock. 98
Mahmud's letters from the front: I am so alive... touched by everything, every hour and minute. When I was in Cairo, I considered myself alive. But now, after my latest experience, I realize that I as mistaken. Stasis is death, not life. Of course, I was afraid, at first. Fear is what gives the struggle its savor. You go forward, feeling fear, for sure, but also sensing some strength grander than yourself, greater than your fear, a force that pushes you on ... And when it is all over youfeel so refreshed, because you realize that you have prevailed over yourself, over your weakness as just one puny person. 110 [Sanaa] was positively in love with love. Sanaa: You know, Mahmud? I must do something to prove to you how much I love you -- I want to die for you. M (taking her hand tenderly): I want you to live for me, Sanaa. Without you I am worth nothing. 211 --- The airplanes released more parachutists behind the wall of the airport, and the parachutes ballooned, one after another, white, like abscesses full of pus. 347
Muhammad Effendi Sulayman, civil servant in Ministry of Finance and resident
of No. 3 Ya'qub Street 5
Saniya Hanim, mother - full figure and light skin is attractive.
Mahmud - elder brother, Sulayman's unquestioned favourite
Layla - young girl, good at Arabic, politically motivated
Isam, Gamila - same age [mother's sister's son / dtr, live in same bldg]
Husayn - friend of Mahmud, revolutionary
Samia Hanim, Zaynab Hanim: aunts on mother's side
Dawlat Hanim: Aunt - she follows the rules of society and marries her dtr
Safaa to a rich old man; when Safaa runs away after being tortured, she
refuses shelter. Yet has high status in society
Adila : friend - tall, practical.
Sanaa : friend - romantic, loves beauty, well-off
the translation starts off very well indeed, but it becomes patchy later on. Some plot aspects (e.g. how come Husayn knows Sana'a so well) are never revealed. She dithers in whether to give the Arabic term or an english gloss; halfway through the book, Umm Layla and Umm Gamrila etc start appearing (_umm X= mother of X). there are also some ambiguities - e.g. who removes the bloodstain of her first period is a bit unclear in the translation (see p.279 above) from Joseph Zeidan: Arab women novelists: the formative years_ father refers to daughter as wiliyyah, helpless girl. A huge wall always stood between [her father] and her, as if they did not speak the same language