Western Mold -JK

            From the very beginning, while the book sets out to properly portray “colonial Egypt” it seems to be playing heavily into the twisted Western notion of how people in the Middle East live.

            Amina the wife is subservient, happy to be locked away from the world, content with her chores and the birds on the roof. She is meek and subservient, to the point where she is almost eager to wake up and take care of her drunken husband every single night. Only once are we shown any sign of resistance, when she looks back and remembers a “polite objection to his repeated nights out. His response was had been to seize her by the ears…” Now she is content with her marriage that gives her a “type of security based on surrender”.

The way her children treat her can be seen as a continuation of her husband’s contempt towards her. She admits that she cannot contain her rowdy bickering children, and her daughter insults her only to be told a pray in response.

            Amina’s obsession with the “jinn” and constant need for prayer to restrain the ghosts around her immediately set off alarm bells, her mental state is called into question, and one can only wonder if she was always like that or if her marriage caused this imbalance.

            The only place she feels strong is in the kitchen “here she was queen” and from this comes the only way she can get complements from her husband, on her “perfect food” (14)

            Sayyid’s character fits into the mold of the wild Middle Eastern man, horrible to his family and drowning himself in booze. His thirst for alcohol is matched by his thirst for women

“…professional women entertainers of today are the slave girls of yesterday, whose purchase and sale God made merciful”

            He is presented as a boisterous drunk who despite being well liked by his friends, is seen a terror to his own children. “When they [the children] were in his presence they would not even look at each other, for fear of being overcome by a smile…” His departure is describes as a prison guard releasing the shackles on the prisoners.  

            The daughter who is said to be beautiful, Aisha, is described in a very western sense of beauty. “She has a white complexion suffused with rosy highlights and her father’s blue eyes…she had golden hair”. While it is not as if such traits cannot be found in Egypt, the entire combination can be seen as a Western ideal.

            So far the book seems to be fitting quite well into the Western mold that has been created for the people of the Middle East.

Do as I say, not as I do

al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad’s motto should be the age-old adage “do as I say, not as I do.” He presents himself as an honorable, religiously conscientious, morally strict man who accepts no excuses from anyone, especially his children and wife. He is much like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde in that he presents completely opposite personalities in front of his family, and then with his friends, business associates, and just about everybody else besides his wife and children. Even in the first chapter, Amina states that if she did not see his jolly, cheerful side herself while waiting up for him to come home, she would never have known it existed. His children are outright afraid of him while the employee at his store “revered and loved him the way everyone did who had any dealings with him, whether of business or friendship” (36). He asks his son, Fahmy, if the youngest boy, or “son of a bitch” is doing his homework and studying in school (20). In reality, al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad never finished primary school, even though he can interact with attorneys and more educated people from keeping up with reading the newspaper and becoming friends with these attorneys and government officials. He describes his religion as having no room for “innovation” but clearly takes some aspects of it more seriously than others (42). He does not understand why he should not be allowed to drink wine with his friends when he is not hurting anyone or causing any harm to anything. This may be the only thing I like about al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad thus far: he challenges Shaykh Abd al-Samad and does not back down, even if he is somewhat sarcastic and Shaykh Abd al-Samad does not appreciate his answers or “excuses” (45). Had any of his children given him sassy answers or explanations like the responses he gives to the Shaykh, al-Jawad would have been furious. He also states that he “goes crazy for a pretty face” but does not marry them so he does not have to divide his assets and land among his existing children. Judging from the Shaykh’s response, it would be more honorable to marry these other women that he associates with.

"The soul of the country"

Right from the beginning of the novel, we are presented with a family that lives within very strict guidelines and roles. Most startling is Amina's routine and submissive nature. She has learned to be happy with her life even though her husband is rarely home, preferring to be out on the town, drinking with his friends. Amina wakes up, out of habit, at midnight so she can receive her husband, undress and wash him. The role of women in the world of the novel has been set from the first chapter, which concerned me. The man, too, is just as bad, as Al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad is portrayed as a nearly-absentee father. While he imposes strict rule upon his family, he gets to do what he wants; it's contradictory, like Bibi mentioned, that he and his family are Muslims, and while the family is forced to be strict and devout, the father is allowed to break the rules and see women and drink, out all night.
The problem this novel has already begun to pose is the question of the portrayal of Islamic worlds and families. In Newsweek, Christopher Dickey said about the novel, "[Mahfouz] writes about family, and to understand the Egyptian family is to understand, more clearly than any political treatise can explain, the soul of the country," basically reducing all of Egyptian culture to this family we are presented. Emily said that Americans, with a tendency to remain ignorant, are content to make and believe sweeping generalizations of other people, countries, and cultures. There is a danger, then, when Mahfouz uses a single family that is (so far) very one-dimensional and embodies a lot of stereotypes to explore his ideas and themes on this Egyptian street. He seems to be very reductive.
If, like Dickey said, understanding the family is understanding the soul of a country, then so far, we are to understand that Egypt is about submissive women, strained family relationships, perversions of religion, and dominant, inattentive men.

The Australian Occupation(?)

Al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad is a powerful merchant both feared and loved (mostly feared) by his family, but loved, respected, and highly sought after by fellow merchants, government officials, attorneys, and women of Cairo. Amina, Ahmad’s wife, learned early on in their marriage to fear her husband:

It had occurred to her once, during the first year she lived with him, to venture a polite objection to his repeated nights out. His response had been to seize her by the ears and tell her peremptorily in a loud voice, “I’m a man. I’m the one who commands and forbids. I will not accept any criticism of my behavior. All I ask of you is to obey me. Don’t force me to discipline you.”

She learned from this, and from the other lessons that followed, to adapts to everything…in order to escape the glare of his wrathful eye.” (4)

Kamal’s harmless, childish pranks must be hidden from his father, and even Yasin, the eldest, who’s body “resembled his father’s in size and bulk” (16) feared Ahmad as well.

            Ahmad is as loved by those who do not have to endure his tyranny as he is feared by those who do, and is even reprimanded by friends for missing a party because “they had not found the same pleasure in drinking that they did with him. Their party, as they put it, lacked its soul” (83). Despite being either loved or feared (and sometimes both) by, seemingly, all of Cairo, Ahmad has an almost unavoidable adversary: The Australian army. What angered him the most, sadly, was that their “tyranny separated him from the Ezbekiya Garden entertainment district, which he had abandoned in defeat…He could  not stand to expose himself to soldiers who openly plundered people of their possessions and took pleasure in abusing and insulting them without restraint” (12).

            Yasin, who takes after his father in his lust for women, is also forced to abandon the “festivities” of the Ezbekiya entertainment district: “Then the Australians appeared on the field, and Yasin had been obliged to forsake his place of amusement to escape their brutality” (72). He too laments his circumstances: “God curse the Australians! Where are you, Ezbekiya, for me to disperse my care and sorrow in you and draw a little patience from you?” (75).

            Besides interrupting—or only slightly hindering—nights of debauchery and infidelity, the Australian occupation seems to be of little consequence to the people of Cairo. The merchants, thus far, remain unharmed, as do the families and regular townspeople, seemingly, so long as they avoid the entertainment district. I feel like I keep waiting for the Australians to exhibit signs of widespread tyranny, but all Ahmad and Yasin can complain about is the army getting in the way of their escapades. Is Mahfouz simply introducing sporadic moments of tyranny to later fully release the Australians on the people of Cairo, or is this as far as it goes? And if this is “as far as it goes,” then what is Mahfouz saying about Australia’s occupation of Egypt during this time? That their presence was a minor annoyance? That is was necessary because it was a time of war? I feel like I have more questions than answers at this point, but hope to see the actual effects of an occupation, rather than the minor inconvenience the Australians pose to wanton men. 

Hypocrisy of Religion in Palace Walk

            In the novel Palace Walk written by Naguib Mahfouz, Al-Sayyid Ahmad is shown as a very religious man who is quite strict with his wife and children. He does not allow his wife to leave the house without him and uses Islam as the reason. However we can clearly see his hypocrisy through his late night exploits. The interactions that al-Sayyid Ahmad has with his children show the hypocrisy of his religion.

            Yasin—who is the oldest son of al-Sayyid from a first marriage—seems to have the closest relationship to his father, and is constantly worried about the reputation of his mother who he considers “a bitter humiliation” (77). After divorcing his father, she has begun to see many other men—something that both Yasin and his father find “degrading and demeaning” (77). At one point when the two are speaking about the impending nuptuals between her and a new man, al-Sayyid asks his son “didn’t we vow to consider her a person who never existed?” (107) which implies that they are so ashamed of her that they don’t even acknowledge her anymore.

            When al-Sayyid Ahmad’s son Fahmy decides he would like to marry a girl who lives next door to the Ahmad family, his mother is ecstatic—she would love to have such a respectable addition to their family—but his father is outraged that his son would make such a bold decision. When speaking with his wife about it, he says “what could corrupt a schoolboy to the extnt that he would make such an outrageous request” (128), showing that he does not approve of young boys being so determined one way or another. He also believes that his son has seen this girl (which is forbidden). He says “I didn’t know I had sons who were sneaking looks at the respectable women of our neighborhood” (129) which is especially hypocritical since he is doing much more than “sneaking looks” at other women.

            We do not see very much interaction with his daughters Aisha and Khadija or his youngest son Kamal (at least this far in the novel), but we do see their interactions with Amina who very much respects (or more likely fears) her husband and always relays his beliefs to the children. The daughters have a good relationship with their mother, and cherish eating breakfast because “it was one of the rare times in which the three women were alone” (29) and they could gossip and tell secrets that they would not tell their father. They never show any interest in gossiping with their father—let alone telling him their secrets. This disconnect shows that he is not as interested in his female children but instead prefers his sons. 

Amina in Palace Walk

Amina, the mother and wife in Palace Walk, is an entirely tragic character. She is pious, quiet, and obedient. She is almost completely content with her cloistered life. She loves her view from her screnned balony, where she can peek out a little hole in the screen to feel contected with the greater world. And she loves her kitchen, where she is queen. Page 14 describes how she rules the kitchen: "The fate of the coal and wood, piled in a corner, rested on a word from her".

Amina accepts her husband's decisions about how she will spend her days for the majority of her life, until the one time she does not follow his decrees. That one time, of course, she does not to go off and cavort like he does- she goes to worship. Through absolutely no fault of her own, she gets hurt and her husband learns about her minor transgression. Of course, he thinks her choice to venture outside of the home and go to the mosque is an earth-shattering event and sends her form the home as punishment. The irony of punishing someone for leaving the house by kicking her out of the house is not lost on the reader. Amina's sole sin earns her exile. She may rule her kitchen, but she cannot control any other aspect of her life except for her attitude towards it. She lives contentedly until her piety causes the end of her isolated time in her home.

M is for “Muslimism”*

           Mainstream American culture has become accustomed to memorizing misconceptions of cultures and religions outside of the states. Naguib Mahfouz’ Palace Walk complicates the issue of an Islamic perspective but does not resolve our contentions on the matter of so-called morality; effectively, it perpetuates the Americanized stereotype of Islam as an evil and misogynistic society.

Male Dominance and Obedience in Palace Walk: As is fairly obvious from the very beginnings of the book, Amina’s life revolves around her sometimes-neglectful, most-of-the-time strict husband. His treatment of her—verbal and emotional abuse—is considered normal by other characters in the book. Amina’s mother even tells her he could have “taken second, third, and fourth wives. His father had many wives. Thank our Lord that you remain his only wife.” (5), a proclamation of such validity Amina must accept it. She sits on the floor before him, as if in worship—the obedience to a master, and when once she asks him not to go out entertaining he fires back angrily, having been stripped of the authority entitled him.

Roles of authority don’t end with the couple, however. Their children exude the same tendencies; the boys’ relationship to their father is similarly docile because they are intensely frightened of him, the girls avoid him entirely when possible, and he them.

Perhaps part of the novel is rooted in Mahfouz’ life—if not literal details then at least thematic ones—and it should be accounted for that his male perspective influences the telling of the novel. But Ahmad Abd al-Jawad’s strong patriarchal influence is almost cartoonish in its representation of Muslim values, and only recycles American ideas about the violence “inherent” in the religion.

Americans have a reputation for ignorance. Perhaps we also have an affinity for it, at some times. Our culture is obsessed with simplification of other cultures because by contrast, our complexity makes us vaster, more intelligent, more able to conquer. “Muslimism” is a bastardization of two words, conjoining “Islamism” (Islamic fundamentalism) and “Muslim” (a follower of Islam) to perfectly muddy the entirety of the religion and its place in society.

Our warped perception of external societies is also present in Palace Walk, which, though told “through the eyes” (okay, so it’s third person but you get the idea) of a Muslim, vilifies Muslims—at least Muslim men.

 *as if to emphasize my point, Microsoft Word’s error indicator did not try to correct my use of the word Muslimism (the red zigzag line did not appear); it’s become so culturally engrained that American software has accounted for it.