The Map of Love (46 page)

‘Why does he agree to meet them?’ Shukri Bey asks. ‘He
turned down their offer to buy Palestine in ‘96. He knows that is still what they are after.’

Abd el-Hamid is very cunning, ya Shukri Bey. I think he is a match for Dr Herzl and more. He is being pressed to consolidate Turkey’s debts — and my belief is he agreed to a meeting with Herzl to throw off the bigger threats.’

‘Herzl
is
a threat,’ Shukri Bey says. ‘His Jewish Colonial Trust has just bought some prime land in Tabariyyah and the fallaheen are up in arms about it.’

‘Herzl told the Sultan that he has been in correspondence with Sheikh Yusuf al-Khalidi —’

‘He is not “in correspondence,” ‘ Shukri Bey cuts in contemptuously: ‘Al-Khalidi wrote to a friend of his in Paris, Rabbi Zadok Kahn, begging him to use his influence to deflect Zionist interest from Palestine. Kahn showed the letter to Herzl, who took it upon himself to answer.’

‘So you know all about it?’ Muhammad
Abdu says.

‘Did you see the correspondence?’ Sharif Basha asks.

‘Yes. Al-Khalidi wrote an emotional letter, invoking History and God and ending: “Au nom de Dieu, laisse tranquille la Palestine.” Herzl wrote a sly one, full of financial temptation and veiled threats —’

‘The Jews have always lived in Palestine,’ Rashid Rida says, ‘but now —’

‘They lived as other people lived,’ Shukri Bey says. ‘But now they are coming in thousands. They are supported by the Colonial Trust — look.’ He takes a newspaper cutting out of his pocket,
al-Ahram
, 24 April. The paper quotes an item from the American
Morning Post
reporting that the Zionists had held a big meeting in Milwaukee and started a worldwide campaign to collect contributions from Jews in all countries to buy Palestine from the Sultan.

‘They offer a lot of money for land,’ Shukri Bey says, ‘and some landlords — the big landlords, the ones who live in the cities — they sell. And the fallah, instead of working the land and giving a share of the crop to the owner, finds himself turned into a hired labourer — or turned off the land. They
wish to have nothing to do with the Arabs. Their children don’t attend our schools and they don’t allow our children into theirs. They speak their own languages, run their own affairs, hold on to their nationalities. What are they doing in the midst of us?’

In the silence that follows, Shukri Bey walks over to the window and stands there for a moment. When he returns, Sheikh Muhammad
Abdu looks up from his beads.

‘I understand your concern,’ he says. ‘Personally, I think their dream is impossible. Their Zion is a heavenly place and Heaven cannot be created on earth. But I shall speak to Cattaoui Basha and see what he advises. He would not wish fresh divisions to come among us.’

‘Indeed we are divided enough already,’ Sheikh Rashid Rida says.

‘It is our destiny,’ Shukri Bey says, ‘our luck that we were born in these times.’

‘Things looked very different in the Sixties and Seventies,’ Sharif Basha says.

‘Perhaps because we were young,’ Muhammad
Abdu says.

‘Perhaps it is only when you are young that you can achieve things, make great changes —’

‘We are all making changes,’ Muhammad
Abdu says. ‘Not great changes — not the French Revolution — but small ones that will add up in the end. And the cost will be less.’

Sharif Basha smiles. Twenty years ago Muhammad
Abdu saw nothing wrong with the French Revolution.

Shukri Bey al-
Asali comes forward to take the sheikh’s hand. ‘I thank Fadilatukum and I will take my leave and impose on you no longer. But I beg you to remember, al-Khalidi and I are not the only ones who feel uneasy about what is happening in Palestine.’

Rashid Rida leaves with Shukri Bey, and Sharif Basha and Sheikh Muhammad
Abdu are left alone. The sheikh sighs and draws his hands over his tired face.

‘What do you see in all this?’ he asks his friend.

‘I think it is a matter of concern. And so is the letter I gave you. And the tax on spun thread that Cromer is trying to push through.’ Sharif Basha shrugs, then leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. ‘But there is something else I want to talk to you about. A big favour I need from you.’

‘Kheir?’ Muhammad
Abdu’s eyes are instantly alert. ‘Command me.’

‘Tomorrow,’ Sharif Basha says, ‘you contract me in marriage —’ and as his friend’s face lights up in joy, he adds, ‘to an English lady: Lady Anna Winterbourne.’

Muhammad
Abdu studies his friend’s face and asks quietly, ‘And why tomorrow?’