The Ivory Cell - Brossura

Miller, Nevine

Brossura

ISBN 10: 1481758748 ISBN 13: 9781481758741

Casa editrice: AuthorHouse, 2013

Riassunto

I've had the most fabulous life, I've made it exactly what I planned to make it, and I've been one happy person living it up through thick and thin, and creating for myself and family quite a few wonderful and great memories! Since 1966 until the present, my life in my new country has been the greatest. Lots of love, happiness, fun. Wonderful friends, great husband, lovely children, fantastic step children and best of all, living in the United States for almost 60 years, I cannot help appreciating this country for all it has given me, and the super life I have led.

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THE IVORY CELL

By Nevine Miller

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2013 Nevine Miller
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4817-5874-1

CHAPTER 1

I was the third daughter to be born to Nahed Said and HusseinSirry in Cairo, the last child after my sisters Ihsan and Adila, on June8th, 1929. In that particular era, yet another baby girl might havebeen a source of regret for my large and close extended family. But ifmy parents had longed for a boy to carry on the family name, I wasnone the wiser. I felt myself to be adored by all, and my childhoodwas enormously happy, part of a loving, busy household filled withcompany and color. As playmates I had my two sisters, nicknamedNini and Doddy, and we were entertained and doted upon by a benignarmy of servants and nannies. Frankly, I see now that I was a bit of aspoiled brat.

We lived in one of the nicer parts of Cairo, in the neighborhood ofZamalek, a lovely spot that had been built for British dignitaries. Egyptat the time was under British protectorate, and the Zamalek houses hadbeen built for British dignitaries. Ours was a two-story home, whitewith green shutters and a lovely garden. Charming and cozy, it hada fireplace in every room—a practical British tradition because therewas no other means of heat during the chilly winter evenings. The firstfloor was a reception area with a shiny grand piano, a big dining room,and my father's study. But we mostly lived upstairs, where we studiedand played in the bedrooms and the sunny family room.

My mother and father, like the well born children of their day, wereunited by their parents in an arranged marriage. The young coupledid not meet until the day of their wedding, and there was muchanxiety for both. Because my father had been told that his wife-to-beclosely resembled her father the prime minister, he was much relievedto see that his very pretty bride did not sport a mustache. She in turnwas charmed by him. He was a fine looking and bright young manfrom a good family in Egypt. He appeared to be stern and reservedbut underneath he had a great sense of humor and a big heart whichhe tried to hide behind his abrupt manner and straight to the pointspeech.

My mother and father spent their wedding night in the family'sunoccupied house, and as was customary, my grandparents telephonedin the morning to see how the night had passed. The maid answeredand responded brightly that all was well: the two lovebirds were upstairssinging!

Although such a concept seems counter-intuitive in today's world,arranged marriages were more often than not brilliantly happy, asthis one was. My sisters' arranged marriages, at 16 and 18, were alsolong-lived and successful. My own first marriage, a love match at 18,did not fare so well.

* * *

My mother's family dated back to Muhammad Ali, the Albanianwarlord who is regarded as the founder of modern Egypt. MuhammadAli was commander of the Ottoman army that was sent to driveNapoleon's forces out of Egypt. But with the French withdrawal, thecanny warlord seized power himself and forced the Ottoman Sultan torecognize him as Governor of Egypt. Muhammad Ali's reign beginningin 1805 encompassed a period of reform and modernization that led toEgypt's becoming one of the most civilized countries outside of Europe.

Muhammad Ali brought to Egypt his Turkish harem, "splendidand well-kept" young women, according to the literature of the day.In order to secure his power among the most affluent Egyptians, thenew governor bestowed upon each of them a woman from his ownharem to have in marriage, along with a dowry of 1,000 acres, or 1000"feddans". Thus, the origin of my mother's family fortune could betraced back to one of the first Turkish women married in Egypt.

My maternal grandmother was a marvelous woman, very refined,who spoke all the European languages. Her husband, my grandfather,Muhammad Said Pasha, served as prime minister. But he was also agambler and evidently not a successful one. He lost a lot of money,and then died suddenly leaving my grandmother burdened with hisvast debt. Traditionally in that place and time, a man's debts woulddie with him. However, my grandmother, who as a descendant of awoman from Muhammad Ali's harem had plenty of her own money,decided to honor his debts. The family congregated to help her withfinances, but there was still much left to pay off. For the rest of her lifeshe continued to winnow down the debt, finally becoming free of itonly two years before her death in 1960. She was a fantastic lady, really,with a crystal-clear moral compass.

Her daughter, my dear mother, was schooled in the home bytutors, spoke several languages, and had a beautiful soprano voice. Shegrew to be a lovely woman, with an independent and questing mindthat would become one of her most marked traits. One of my earliestmemories is of my mother kneeling by my bed to kiss me good nightas she made her way to an evening at the palace. She wore a "yashmak",a white veil that covered her hair and face, and only her beautiful blackeyes shone through. As was customary, my mother wore the yashmakwhenever she left the house. Later, she was one of the first women inEgypt to give up the veil. She simply decided she no longer wantedto wear it, a very advanced notion in such an aristocratic family. Theveil was a Koranic symbol, a sign of distinction and protection forupper-class women; my grandmother wore a white veil whenever sheleft the house until the day she died.

When my mother told my father of her wish to stop wearing theveil, he rather surprised her, and said, "Fine. Take it off!" She was thusliberated, although she continued to wear her yashmak whenever shehad dinner at the palace with her niece and my first cousin SafinazZulficar, better known as Farida, Queen of Egypt, and wife of KingFarouk.

Yes, my mother's family was quite storied. My mother's brother, mywonderful uncle Mahmoud Said, was a renowned artist who played acentral role in the development of modern art in Egypt. Mahmoud hasbeen dead some fifty years, but recently one of his paintings sold formore than $2 million at a Dubai auction. Painting for my uncle wasa sideline, however; his real work was as a lawyer and judge. He nevermade much money, and I always wondered why he never sold any ofhis beautiful artwork. He told me that as a man of the law he couldnot imagine being an impartial judge to a buyer of his art. Like all ofmy family he was an honorable man, one of the finest I've ever known.

My father's family on the other hand, was of Egyptian origin,extraordinarily wealthy and accomplished though they were. Mypaternal grandfather, Ismail Sirry Pasha, had worked as an engineerin France, and was responsible for much of the construction in theCarmargue in the south of France, and was given a beautiful housethere by the French government in recognition of his talents. He laterbecame Minister of Public Works in Egypt. My father, like his father,was educated at the prestigious I'Ecole Centrale de Paris, and graduatedfirst in his class. He too had worked as an engineer in France and spokethe language perfectly. Later in life he would lead Egypt's government asprime minister and achieve the rank of Pasha, the only disappointmentmy mother had when she saw him was that he already was bald ... andshe had always dreamt of having a husband with a lot of hair thatshe could glide her hands through and fondly caress—in reality thatwas a minor detail, and she quickly overcame her disappointment. Hismother, my grandmother, though of fierce intelligence, could neitherread nor write and spoke only Arabic. Her father had been very rich,and she inherited much of his fortune. Arabic is a difficult language tomaster, and later during the years of Nasser, my lack of understanding ofthe national language was a handicap. As Egypt became more modern,I felt out of step with the rest of my country, as did many of my friends.This dichotomy was to lead to grave consequences for many of us.

Really, I lived my life in a rather adventurous way I did, almost inspite of my background. It should have been difficult for me to forgoall of it—the beneficence and grace of that cloistered life. And yet itwas not.

* * *

After an early childhood filled with gaiety and doting, pliablenannies, I was introduced to my stern British governess at the age ofeight.

Miss Fanny Bodvan-Griffith was an albino, very tall and nearlyblind, with translucent skin and pale, lashless eyes. A cultured womanfrom a rather good family, Miss Griffith spoke French and English,and had been a governess to the children of French noble families.Although I hated her on sight, and my sisters and I pleaded with mymother to "get rid of her, please!". Miss Griffith was to become perhapsthe greatest influence of my life.

Mother ignored our complaints about our implacable newgoverness; I think she was ready to instill a new order of discipline inher cosseted daughters. At first, Doddy, Nini and I were dreadful toMiss Griffith, and the poor woman must have longed to be back withthe well-born French children whom she had cared for before arrivingin Cairo. I remember one of Doddy's early reactions to Miss Griffith'soffer of tea at breakfast: she grabbed the cup and threw it at her. MissGriffith marched Doddy to the bathroom, where she was to spend thenext three hours. She emerged only somewhat chastened.

Doddy was always a little devil, and lazy about her studies andher musical practice. Yet she was immensely talented, and did welldespite her lackadaisical ways. She would saw away on her little violinbehind closed doors, pretending to practice while instead reading abook. Miss Griffith, normally so sharp, was none the wiser. Yet, whenit came time to be graded on our music by a visiting Polish professorfrom the Warsaw conservatory, Doddy shone. I did well too, but onlyafter practicing my piano assiduously, Miss Griffith looking over myshoulder.

After our warm and rather casual tutors, Miss Griffith was a blastof polar air. Now, I would stay seated at my desk until my homeworkassignment was complete; I would practice my piano for exactly onehour, not a minute less. No more rushing to the banister to peer down atevery guest entering our hallway below; nor leaving the piano mid-scaleto talk to my friends on the telephone. The new discipline improvedmy school grades—with regularity I began to achiever "Firsts" in myclass.

After a few months of English lesson, Miss Griffith decided I wasready for the challenge of a new book, and she did not select a childishreader suitable for a nine-year-old. The book she chose for me wasDickens' David Copperfield. At first I rebelled: I couldn't possibly readthat big book! But of course Miss Griffith would not countenance anyweak-mindedness. It took me a very long time, but I got through thattome, and found that I loved every bit of it.

I became my father's favorite child, perhaps in part due to MissGriffith's machinations. My governess was not fond of my mother,and she pushed me toward my father, the prime minister and Pashaof whom most people were afraid. Routinely Miss Griffith wouldstand me in front of my father to ask how I had done in my monthlyclass grading. Usually I could tell them both that I had achieved a"First", which meant that I had outshone all the other children in theclass. When my father asked Doddy, she would proudly tell him sheachieved a "Third". How many children in your class, he would ask;"three!" she would reply gaily. Doddy was four years older than I andmy father would scold her for being less intelligent than her little sister.But she was a wonderful girl with a sweet and mischievous nature, andshe never begrudged me my sterling grades.

Doddy and I were always close, and in many ways we led parallellives—we married good men, lived well and for the most part happily.But my eldest sister Nini lived a difficult life from the day she wasborn, and it breaks my heart still.

My mother had ecclampsia giving birth to poor Nini, and spentseveral months in a semi-coma. Amidst the family's distress over mymother the baby was ignored by everyone, though she suffered witha lung ailment. Throughout her days, this bad luck would follow her.

* * *

Miss Griffith lived with my family for many years, long after I hadleft the home to be married. Rather surprisingly, she chose not to returnto England, which she said she would find boring after the excitementof Cairo. She was very adventurous, half-blind as she was, and lovedwalking through the city. She took her lunch and dinner—and oftenher much-loved glass of scotch—with my parents every day, to myfather's quiet dismay. Later, as a prime minister during the Suez crisis,he saw his moment. Since Britain was now the enemy of his homeland,Miss Griffith must leave his home. My father, a highly moral man,could now move his children's retired governess from his house with aclear conscience. Because I was no longer living at home, I could notprotest. Miss Griffith was given a generous monthly stipend, and set upin an apartment which I often came to visit. I think she was happy inher beloved adopted city, and she lived to a fine old age.

Miss Griffith's emphases on rigorous discipline and focus havebecome second nature to me, and have served me well throughout mylife. Years later, my beloved nieces, daughters of Doddy, would tease mefor being her long-ago favorite, "Doddy and Nini are carrement bete,"truly stupid". But Nevine! She is Miss Griffith's chef d'oeuvre! "Hermasterpiece".

My parents' marriage was a happy one, though it surely had itsdifficult times. They led an active and complicated life. My father servedas Egypt's undersecretary for public works and later became primeminister, and his wife was ideally suited to be a politician's wife. Sheloved entertaining and organizing, as I do, and she was extraordinarilysocial as well. There were parties at the palace, and visiting dignitariesto host. Her example was a fine one for me, and I was well-prepared formy first marriage to a diplomat. We lived in Paris and there was muchentertaining and so forth. Because I had always seen it done so well bymy mother, it was not a challenge to me as it might have been for otheryoung wives. Many years later when my second husband, Bill, wastransferred to London, my only job was that of a constant entertainer,and I loved it. I still adore having dinners and parties. I am known formy beautiful tables; I am meticulous. In fact, if I came back to thisworld I would like to return as a table dresser!

CHAPTER 2

In fact, now that I think of it, my childhood as exceptional as itwas, was a very happy one. Everything went very well for me, I hadwonderful parents who loved and cherished us, and left our upbringingand education almost entirely in the hands of Miss Griffith, whomthey trusted implicitly.

Life was simple and easy and very disciplined. At age seven I wassent to the "e-cole Morin" to start my education. This French schoolwas very near our house, started at 8:30 am and ended at 12:30 noon. Itwas located in Zamalek and we could see the Nile from all its windows,it was surrounded by a large garden where lots of sporting events tookplace. The owners and headmasters were a nice elderly French couple"Mr & Mme Morin" their two children, Jacqueline & Pierre, were alsoeducated there. Most of our professors were French and excellent intheir specialties.

I will never forget my first day at school in kindergarten ... wewere made to wear a navy blue uniform, and I was very frightenedin my new surroundings, so much so that I felt the need to go to thebathroom at one point, but was too shy to ask ... so I proceeded tohide behind the big blackboard and relieve myself right there. Of courseit did not go unnoticed and I was punished by the teacher "MadameMoreno" and made to stand in the corner in front of all my classmates.This was my first day and I was truly ashamed and embarrassed. Andmy white underpants had turned to navy blue because of the incident.As time went on, of course, everything became easier, and from thevery beginning I was anxious to excel and be better than all the otherchildren in my class, so I proceeded to work very hard at it. We weretaught to read and write in French and my school became a wonderfulplace for me to be for the next few years until the final exams of thebaccalaureat and philosophy which I graduated from with honors ... Ialso became very proud of the fact that I was the only one in my familywho succeeded in all my exams, as my sisters never even reached the"Baccalaureat". Doddy got married at 16, and Nini failed at that exam,and never tried to pass it again.

(Continues...)

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Dettagli dell'edizione

• Editore: AuthorHouse
• Data di pubblicazione: 2013
• Lingua: Inglese
• ISBN 10: 1481758748
• ISBN 13: 9781481758741
• Rilegatura: Copertina flessibile
• Numero di pagine: 132
• Contatto del produttore: non disponibile
• Persona responsabile: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Friedensallee 273; Hamburg; 22763; Germania