The Holy Woman (27 page)

D
URING
THE
E
ID-UL-
F
ITR
holidays, Ibrahim, Pakinaz and Zarri Bano cruised down the River Nile from Cairo to the ancient city of Luxor in the south. They spent the first two days resting, after an
exhausting
tour of the city of Aswan and its ancient
monuments
. On the third day they visited the Valley of the Kings. Crossing the Nile by ferry, they took a taxi to the Temple of Ramses. Zarri Bano marvelled at the tall majestic façade, carved into the reddish rock and, at the beautifully preserved hieroglyphic paintings and inscriptions on the walls, pillars and ceilings.

Outside, the afternoon sun beat down on her head. Sweltering in her long dark
burqa,
she was glad to climb back into the air-conditioned taxi and head towards the Valley of the Kings.

King Ramses’ tomb was their first destination. All three happily entered into the shade of the long, wide corridor. Fascinated by the magnificent multi-coloured hieroglyphics painted on the walls, they walked along to the large chamber housing the King’s sarcophagus, listening with rapt attention as the Egyptian guide recounted the history of the tomb.

Outside again, they crossed the road and went down into the much smaller tomb of the legendary King Tutankhamen. It was packed with tourists, and Zarri Bano found it difficult to get a good view of the
boy-king’s
sarcophagus. His remains and treasures were housed in the Cairo Museum.

‘It is very impressive, Brother Musa,’ Zarri Bano said
to Ibrahim, as he stood aside to let her view the tomb in the semi-darkness of the chamber. ‘Where is Pakinaz?’

‘Gone to the souvenir shop to buy a present for our niece. Do you want to stay a little longer and savour the moment?’

‘No, I think I have seen enough. Shall we go back outside?’ They retraced their steps, keeping well to the side of the road, allowing the many sightseers, mainly Europeans and Americans, to pass by.

‘Let’s wait here for Pakinaz,’ Ibrahim suggested ‘it is cooler here under this shade.’

‘Thank you.’ Zarri Bano moved gratefully to the place he indicated, by his side.

As they both watched the tourists coming out of the tomb, an awkward silence stretched between them. It was broken by Ibrahim’s words in Arabic.

‘Marry me, Zarri Bano.’

Startled, her eyes flew to his face, thinking she had imagined him saying it but, like her, he was wearing dark glasses, which both shielded his eyes and also hid his expression. She waited – her pulse racing, hoping she had misunderstood.

‘I am sorry, Brother Ibrahim – did you say
something?’
she ventured hesitantly in English, staring at the dry rocky mountains beyond his shoulders.

‘Yes, I did, Zarri Bano. I believe that you heard me, but are probably too shocked to absorb what I have just said. I am sorry. I will repeat it in English, just in case you thought you imagined it. I am asking you to be my wife, Zarri Bano. Nothing would give me greater pleasure.’

Zarri Bano gasped in dismay and she stumbled away from his side.

As Ibrahim watched her, his spirits sank. This was
not the reaction he had expected. Discomfited, he followed her to the shops and saw her go up to Pakinaz and stand next to her. He understood her signal. She was apparently distancing herself from him. Waving to his sister, he walked down the road and climbed into the taxi waiting for them there.

Pakinaz happily showed an alabaster cat she had bought for her niece to Zarri Bano. Pretending to admire it, Zarri Bano’s thoughts were not on the cat, but on the man waiting in the taxi. Pakinaz climbed into the front passenger seat, leaving her friend with no choice but to sit in the back with Ibrahim. They drove off, in silence, to take the ferry over the Nile, heading for the temple complex at Karnak.

‘Hey you two!’ called Pakinaz from the front. ‘You are very quiet – has the heat got to you both? I bet it has in your case, Zarri Bano. You must be baking in your black
hijab.
’

‘I think that it has, Pakinaz, for the heat makes us say and do such irrational things.’ Zarri Bano cast a meaningful glare at Ibrahim. His mouth tightening, he let the moment pass, however, and said nothing.

After crossing the Nile, they walked towards the Karnak complex. When they reached it, Ibrahim told his sister. ‘I will show Zarri Bano around, Pakinaz, as I know the history of this place so well.’ He then switched from English to Arabic and Pakinaz listened and nodded. Zarri Bano stood nearby, feeling helpless and trapped. She had no wish to see the ancient
complex
alone with Ibrahim.

‘This way, Zarri Bano,’ he beckoned, walking on and not giving her time to refuse.

She noted with dismay that it was the third time he had dropped the word ‘sister’ when addressing her.

Silently she followed him along the passage between the majestic pillars reaching high into the sky, their ancient surfaces scarred with forgotten inscriptions. Animal shapes of Egyptian gods lined the entrance to the complex.

With the rest of the tourists from all over the world, Ibrahim walked slowly, letting Zarri Bano absorb the splendour of the place, and mull over the atmosphere of the remains of Egypt’s glorious past. She imagined what it must have been like in the time of Queen Hatshepsut and King Ramses, who had built this huge complex. A cool breeze wafted through the tall pillars, soothing her heated blood, billowing the dark folds of her
burqa
against her body.

Ibrahim led her to one of the secluded rooms, away from the crowds, and sat down on a boulder, fallen from one of the pillars.

‘Would you like to take a rest, Zarri Bano?’

Seating herself on a similar-shaped boulder a few feet away from Ibrahim, Zarri Bano looked around the stone chamber, taking in the symbols and the half-animal shapes.

‘Would it be very impertinent of me to ask what your answer is to my earlier question?’ Ibrahim said quietly. ‘I gather you were shocked by it, as it resulted in your rapid flight from my side.’

Zarri Bano’s heart sank. The peace of the afternoon was shattered and she felt hedged in. She debated with herself how best to respond to him.

‘I am very honoured by your proposal,’ she began cautiously, ‘but I am also very surprised. I hadn’t
suspected
, you see, Brother Musa.’

‘No?’ His voice caressed her in its softness. ‘I thought I was quite transparent in some ways.
My family have known for a long time but you, the woman that I want to marry, unfortunately have not.’

At his words ‘want to marry’, Zarri Bano shuddered inwardly.

‘You are a very pleasant, attractive woman,’ he
continued
huskily, seeing the image of her in the red dress in his mind. ‘You are intelligent and have a sunny
personality
. Over the last few months I have got to know you well. You are just the type of woman I admire, need, and wish to have by my side for all time. We have so much in common. We share the same passion in books and religious history, Zarri Bano,’ he said earnestly.

‘Please stop, Brother Ibrahim,’ she appealed to him.

‘Oh don’t call me Brother, Zarri Bano, I beg of you. For I harbour no brotherly feelings towards you –
particularly
I am ashamed to say, since that day I saw you without your veil.’ He let his black eyes now openly spell out his feelings for her.

Colour crept into Zarri Bano’s face as she realised the deep waters she had fallen in. How on earth could she retrieve the situation without hurting herself or him in the process?

‘I am very sorry, Brother Ibrahim, but that is how I will always regard you,’ she said in a low voice and looked down at her feet once more.

Unable to believe that she had refused him, Ibrahim stood up. With his fists balled in his trouser pockets, he closed the distance between them, and peered down at her bowed head.

‘May I presume to ask why you cannot see me in any other light than as a brother? Do I lack anything, Zarri Bano? Have I done something wrong?’ There was a trace of anger in his voice.

‘No!’ Zarri Bano too stood up. Opting for honesty, she looked him directly in the eye. ‘No, Ibrahim Musa, you lack nothing.’ Her eyes appraised his face and body, seeing him for the first time with a woman’s eyes. ‘Another woman would give anything to be courted by a man like you. You are very good-looking, very caring, highly intelligent and fun to be with.’

‘Another woman – but not you!’ he said dryly. ‘What requirements do you have? May I know how I fail to measure up to those?’

‘I don’t have any requirements, Brother Musa. You are everything a woman could dream of – but I cannot be that woman, ever.’

‘Why not?’ A frown marred his high forehead, his hand moved thoughtfully on his beard.

‘Because I have renounced marriage.’ She spoke so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. The subject of her marital status was a painful one and a closed book to everyone. It took a few seconds for her comment to register in his mind.

‘I don’t believe it, Zarri Bano! What are you saying? Is it that you cannot marry – or won’t?’ His frown intensified.

‘Both.’

‘Are you by any chance
teasing
me, Zarri Bano?’ he asked hopefully.

‘No, Ibrahim, I could not and would not tease you on a subject like this.’ She winced. ‘I find it difficult to explain. All I can say to you is that I have decided to devote my life totally to religious studies and to
teaching.
I have no wish to marry—’

‘But that is nonsensical,’ he interrupted. ‘You can marry as well as devote yourself to religious studies. I can think of nothing better than having my wife share
the same Department in the University, as well as my home and life. You already do that, to some extent,’ he pointed out.

‘It can never be! Please believe me, Brother Musa. I came to Egypt with that purpose, to become a learned woman. Perhaps if we had met at another time and in another place or another life, it might have been
possible.
I am honoured by your proposal, but what about Selima? She will make you a wonderful wife. She is Egyptian and shares your language and culture. I don’t even do that.’

‘That is immaterial. You have learned the language anyway. You are a Muslim, that is all that matters, and a woman whom I would like very much to marry.’

‘Please, Ibrahim, do not say any more.’ Zarri Bano was reaching the end of her tether. ‘I can never marry you, and if you want me to be very plain, I will be, just to make you understand. Even if I hadn’t renounced marriage, I would still not have married you, because in the end I would have chosen someone from my own country, culture, background and class. It is true we share a common culture of Islam, but I would never anticipate, nor would my family, my marrying
someone
who lives thousands of miles away from my home and country. If you don’t mind me saying so, at the end we are still strangers.’

‘I do not accept your reasoning, Zarri Bano. You are not giving us a chance. Many mixed marriages have taken place. The world is a small place now. The differences you mention can easily be overcome. The main affinity between us is our faith, which is supposed to unite all races, all nationalities. I am surprised at you. I know many people who have married Western women, from a totally different culture. Think of your
own countryman, Imran Khan, married to Jemima Goldsmith, a Western woman from a different religious background, and they are happy. Their marriage is successful. Our union would have much to support it.’

‘Those marriages you speak of are between people who fell deeply in love and were prepared to surmount any barriers to be together. You are talking about a different situation, Ibrahim.’

‘I suppose love plays no part in
your
life,’ he muttered.

Fearing she had wounded his ego, Zarri Bano felt compelled to bare her soul in order to offer salve to his.

‘What can I say, Brother Ibrahim? If I had been another woman at another time, I would have said yes.
Yes
! But I have no feelings for you, apart from
friendship
and respect. Nor will I have feelings for any other man. You see, I have become a Holy Woman – and part of the equation of being a Holy Woman is that I can never marry any man. I have no wish to marry anyway. You are right – love plays no part in my life. At the moment I harbour no feelings towards the opposite sex, save those of friendship.’ Her voice sank to a whisper. ‘I did love someone once – but I had to give him up. It was so hard, Brother Ibrahim, but I managed to do it. Now I have begun to think of him as a brother.
Therefore
, what feelings could I have for you? None, I am afraid. For I have trained both my mind and heart towards a life of total devotion –
ibadah.
I have learned to divorce my life from things like marriage and men. I am truly sorry. I just don’t know what more to say,’ she ended, her eyes beseeching him to understand.

Ibrahim was silent for a long time. Zarri Bano watched a group of Japanese tourists pass by, thinking that her companion was never going to speak to her again.

‘Then there is definitely no hope for me, ever?’ he ventured at last.

‘No, never. My life has been charted out for me, Brother Ibrahim. I could never be any man’s wife. I am married to my faith,’ she stated, her voice devoid of any feelings.

They started to walk silently together through the temple complex, both locked in their own thoughts. The day was spoiled for both of them.

‘You will understand, Ibrahim,’ Zarri Bano began, turning to face him once more, ‘why I cannot stay in your family’s home after this. With this subject on our mind, it would not be right for me to remain in your house – for you no longer regard me as a sister.’

‘That is true, but I do not want you moving out of our home, Zarri Bano. Surely we can be friends?’ He dreaded the thought of her leaving.

‘In the present circumstances that can never be, for the only friendship we should have is that of a brother towards a sister. As we do not share that, according to you, therefore it is wrong –
haram
– for me to be under the same roof. I am very grateful to you and your family for your hospitality, but when we return to Cairo, I will find another apartment. Of course, I will still liaise with you on the subject of my studies, if that is all right with you?’