Khadija looked at her mother and said mockingly of her sister, 'Perhaps she intends to become a professional'.
Aisha did not get angry. To the contrary, she said, again with affected seriousness, 'Why not! My voice is like a bird's, like a curlew's'.
Although Aisha’s previous words had not stirred Khadija’s rage, since they were in jest, this last statement did, both because it was obviously true and because Khadija envied her the beauty of her voice along with her other attractions. So she attacked her: 'Listen, madam, this is the home of an honorable man. There would be nothing wrong with his daughters having voices like donkeys, but it’s a disgrace for them to be nothing but pretty pictures of no use or value'.
'If your voice were beautiful like mine you wouldn't say that'.
'Of course! We'd sing duets together. You'd say, 'You there with the red stripe, you who'-and I'd continue-'have taken me prisoner, have pity on my humiliation.' We'll let the lady'-pointing toward her mother-'do the sweeping, scrubbing, and cooking'.
The mother, who was accustomed to this bickering, had taken her place and implored them, 'Trust in God. Sit down. Let’s eat our breakfast in peace'.
They came over and sat down. Khadija observed, 'Mother, you're not fit to raise anyone'.
Her mother muttered calmly, 'God forgive you. I'll leave the child rearing to you, so long as you don't forget your own manners'. She stretched her hand out to the tray of food, reciting, 'In the name of God the Merciful, the Compassionate'.
Khadija was twenty and the eldest, except for Yasin, her half brother, who was about twenty-one. She was strong and plump, thanks to Umm Hanafi, although a trifle short. Her face had acquired its features from her parents but in a combination lacking in harmony or charm. She had inherited her mother’s small, beautiful eyes and her father’s huge nose, or a smaller version of it, although not small enough to be excused. While this nose on her father’s face, where it fit, lent his face a noticeable majesty, it added nothing to the girl’s looks.
Aisha was in her prime at sixteen. She was the very picture of beauty. She was of slender build and figure, but in her family circle this was considered a defect to be remedied by the ministrations of Umm Hanafi. Her face was as beautiful as the moon. She had a white complexion suffused with rosy highlights and her father’s blue eyes, which went well with her mother’s small nose. Unlike all the others, she had golden hair, inherited from her paternal grandmother, thanks to the laws of genetics.
It was natural that Khadija should grasp the differences between her and her sister. Neither her extraordinary proficiency in running the house and doing embroidery or her indefatigable vigor, which never dimmed or dulled, gained her anything. On the whole, Khadija felt a jealousy toward Aisha she did not bother to hide, thereby causing the beautiful girl to be upset with her frequently. Fortunately, this natural jealousy did not leave any negative residue deep in her soul. She was content to vent it through the sarcastic sauciness of her tongue. Moreover, she was a girl who, despite the handicaps nature had given her, had a heart full of affection for her family, even though she did not spare them her bitter mockery. Regardless of how long her jealousy lasted, it did not warp her disposition or become hatred or loathing.
Although her sarcasm was humorous when aimed at a member of her family, she was a scold of the first degree with regard to their neighbors and acquaintances. Her eyes, like the needle of a compass always attracted to the magnetic pole, lit first on people’s imperfections. If their shortcomings were cloaked, she contrived to uncover and enlarge them. Then she applied epithets to her victims to match their defects. They were usually known by these in the family circle.
She called the widow of the late Mr. Shawkat, the oldest friend of her parents, 'the machine gun,' because of the way her spittle flew when she talked. Umm Maryam, their next-door neighbor, she named 'Could you spare?' because she borrowed household utensils from them now and then. The teacher at the Qur'an school of Palace Walk was the 'evilest of creation' because when he taught he frequently recited this verse from the Qur'an (113:2) along with the rest of the sura and because of his ugly face. The cooked-beans vendor was 'baldy' because he had no hair, the milkman 'one-eye' because his vision was impaired. The nicknames she gave the members of the family were less virulent. Her mother was 'the muezzin' because she rose so early, Fahmy 'the bedpost' because he was slender, and Aisha 'the reed' for the same reason. Yasin she called 'Bamba Kashar' after a notorious chanteuse[6] of the day, since he was both plump and fastidious.
Her outspokenness was not merely satirical. There was truly no limit to her harshness if someone got in her family’s way. Then her criticism of people was violent and devoid of tolerance and forgiveness. She showed a pronounced lack of interest in the sorrows that trouble people from day to day. This harshness was displayed domestically in her unparalleled treatment of Umm Hanafi and even in her handling of the domestic animals, such as the cats, which were pampered by Aisha in ways beyond description. Her rudeness to Umm Hanafi was a subject of controversy between her and her mother. The mother treated her servants exactly like part of her family. She thought everyone was an angel and did not know how to think ill of anyone. Khadija, on the other hand, was disposed to suspect the woman, since it was her nature to be suspicious of everyone. She did not hide her fear that the servant slept too close to the storeroom. She asked her mother, 'How did she get so fat? From the remedies she concocts? We all consume those and we haven't gotten fat like her. It’s the butter and honey she skims off without measure when we're asleep'.
The mother defended Umm Hanafi as best she could. When her daughter’s insistence got on her nerves, she said, 'Let her eat what she wants. We have lots, and her belly has limits that cannot be exceeded. We'll not go hungry in any case'.
Khadija was not pleased by this remark. She began to examine the tins of butter and jars of honey every morning. Umm Hanafi observed this behavior with a smile. She loved the whole family for the sake of her excellent mistress.
Khadija did not behave like this with members of her family. If one of them was indisposed, she was filled with tenderness and knew no rest. When Kamal came down with measles, she insisted on sharing his bed. She could not stand for even Aisha to be afflicted by the slightest misfortune. Her heart had no equal both in coldness and in compassion.
When she sat down to eat she abandoned her quarrel with Aisha. She attacked the beans and eggs with an appetite that was proverbial in the family. For all of them, food, in addition to its nutritional value, ultimately served an aesthetic goal, because it was the natural foundation for becoming well rounded. They ate deliberately and painstakingly. They did their very best to chew their food thoroughly. They did not even slow down when they were full. They kept on eating until they were stuffed, each according to her capacity. The mother was the first to finish, followed by Aisha. Khadija was left alone with the remaining food. She did not quit until all the dishes were wiped clean.
Aisha’s slenderness did not correspond to the diligence with which she ate. The magic of the fattening potions failed on her. Khadija was moved to make fun of her, suggesting that evil machinations had caused her to be soil unfit for the good seed sowed in her. She also liked to ascribe Aisha’s slenderness to the weakness of her faith. She would tell her, 'We all fast during Ramadan except you. You pretend to fast and then slip into the storeroom like a mouse to fill your tummy with walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts. Then you break your fast with us so ravenously that those who have been fasting envy your appetite. But God won't bless you'.
The breakfast hour was one of the rare times when the three women were alone. Thus it was the most appropriate occasion for them to disclose and air secrets, especially about matters they would be embarrassed to discuss when the men of the family were present. Khadija had something she wanted to say, even though she was busy eating. She remarked in a calm voice, totally different from the yell she had recently employed, 'Mother, I had a strange dream'.
In deference to her intimidating daughter, the mother replied, even before she swallowed the morsel in her mouth, 'A good dream, daughter, God willing'.
Khadija said with increased concern, 'I seemed to be walking on the wall of a roof terrace. Perhaps it was the roof of our house, or another. Then an unknown person pushed me off and I fell screaming'.
Aisha’s interest was serious enough to cause her to stop eating, but her sister was silent for a short time to create the greatest possible impression. Their mother murmured, 'God grant it’s the best'.
Trying not to smile, Aisha asked, 'Wasn't I the unknown person who pushed you? Isn't that so?'
Khadija was afraid the mood would be ruined by this joke. She shouted at her, 'It’s a dream, not a game. Stop your foolishness'. Then, addressing her mother, she said, 'I fell screaming, but I didn't hit the ground as I
