Cities of Memory by Dalia S. Mostafa
5 November 2022 { General Fiction }
Alan, my agent, has called today to check on how my new novel was coming along. I was reluctant to tell him that I didn’t progress much since our last chat. I have known Alan for ten years now and he has been quite helpful in providing tips whenever I was struggling with my writing. But this time, I feel that I need inspiration and I don’t really know where to get it from.
Even though I have outlined the plot and the main characters, and thought in some depth about the book structure, I’m still pondering over the opening passages. If I get this right I’ll be able to move faster with the writing.
I sit at my desk in the room which I’ve spent considerable time organising in a way that would comfort me during the writing process. I look at the blank computer screen; I look at the pictures and posters which surround me: pictures of loved ones whom I haven’t seen for a while because they live far away in another country; pictures of me and Kazuo in London since the early days of our relationship, and of our daughter Jemila who is turning 14 this year; and posters in different sizes of old Arabic films, which I have collected over the years to accompany me in my journey abroad.
It’s a relaxing room, decorated with my favourite warm colours, red, blue, orange. There is a hand-made carpet on the wooden floor, which I had brought all the way from Cairo. It has various threads of red, purple and orange. I look at the burgundy curtains with scattered dots of light and navy blue, and the shelves where the books are nicely displayed in Arabic, English, and Japanese. I open the large window and I look at the tall trees outside which are changing colour at this time of year. The birds are singing, it has stopped raining, Kazuo and Jemila went for a swim leaving me to my writing, undisturbed. I take little sips of the Arabic coffee in front of me. Its cardamom fragrance fills the air and transports my heart to real and imagined places. Everything seems right for the inspiration to seep into my soul and give clarity to vision.
Ok, let’s begin …
"Layal, now in her late thirties, stands alone on the spacious balcony overlooking the River Nile. This is the most enchanting time of day in her city Cairo: sunset. The balcony is located on the 20th floor in a newly built tower within the Zamalek island. Layal is able to have a wide-angle view of the Nile and city. The Cairo Tower is standing tall and sturdy like a mythical father figure who is watching over the people as life goes by. Layal can even see the pyramids in the distance. She is intimate with this part of Cairo, Zamalek, where she and Mai have created so many memories since they were kids. Sunset in Cairo is unlike any other. She lifts her mobile phone and starts to video the view while listening intently to the sounds: calls for the prayer by multiple mu’azzins have commenced in a harmonious melody. Their voices, in low and high pitch, are travelling through space. But this is the first time she notices the kites in the sky! She can see many of them in different shapes and colours flying freely around her. What a wonderful idea to fly kites while the Sheikhs are calling for the sunset prayer. Cairo never fails to surprise her.
The Nile, the bridge, the vehicles rushing around, the new high rises she observes across the bridge on the other side of the river, fill her with anguish. Layal wishes she could share this special moment with Mai. She wants Mai to enjoy this scene and to be standing right here by her side, joking about Layal’s romantic lens of Cairo at sunset. She can almost hear her voice. At this moment in time, she cannot think of anyone but her younger sister Mai who passed away last week when Layal was trying to finalise her trip from Manchester to Cairo during the Covid pandemic. Mai, at the age of 30, died of cancer and Layal was not there to hold her hand and sing for her like she used to when they were children, when Mai was afraid to sleep alone at night.”
***
Suddenly, a thought crosses my mind.. it might actually be more convincing to begin with Layal in Malaga! I try to imagine the scene:
“Mai’s tragic death after a painful struggle with cancer has changed her sister Layal’s life forever. Layal now has to look after Ziad, Mai’s young son. She has to look after their mother who is almost losing her mind in grief for Mai. Their father had passed away years ago. ‘Oh dear dad, where are you to give me strength during this daunting time?’ But soon enough, Layal has to go back to her work in Manchester. It’s her only means of income.
What's she going to do? How is she going to explain to 4-year old Ziad the absence of his mum? Ziad’s dad, Youssef, lives in the Emirates with his new wife and daughter, but Ziad can’t just go to live with them all of a sudden like this. The boy needs time to adjust to his mum not being around. Layal considers that she has to take leave from work so she can stay in Cairo for a few more weeks. She sits next to her silent mum in the living room of their old apartment in downtown Cairo whilst contemplating all of these issues.
She sees Ziad coming towards her holding a photo of himself, his mum and Layal by the beach in Malaga: ‘I want to go to my home in La Cala .. mum must be there now waiting for me.’ Layal tries hard to stop herself from crying, takes the boy in her arms and caresses his abundant curly hair. ‘What do you love most about La Cala, Ziad?’, she asks in a soft voice. The boy doesn’t think much to answer: ‘I love the patata fries and sardines.’ This makes Layal smile, remembering her first visit to La Cala del Moral to see them only a year ago. She’s the one who took this selfie of the three of them, sat at that beautiful beach restaurant watching the sunset. She and Mai were drinking Tinto de verano and having a laugh about Mai’s new swimming costume. Layal gazes at the photo, trying to retrieve every tiny detail of that last trip she spent with Mai in Malaga.
A year earlier, they had fallen out when Layal discovered that Mai almost bullied their mother to sell the house she had inherited from her parents so Mai and Ziad could move to Malaga where Ignacio lived. Mai had insisted on divorcing Ziad’s dad after she fell in love with Ignacio. He was an Argentinian artist whom she met at an arts festival organised at the Cairo Opera House. How furious Layal was with her sister then! They hadn’t spoken for a year until Mai pleaded with her to visit them in Malaga. Layal looks again at Ziad with his head on her lap and starts singing to him to help him sleep. She holds tight to the photo in her hand.”
No, stop! The best way to open this novel is to start in Alexandria when Layal and Mai were in love ...
“She stood there on the balcony of Palestine Hotel in Montazah to watch the sunset in her favourite spot of Alexandria. Layal felt the need to go there shortly after Mai’s death; ‘I want to drink a glass of wine to you Mai, and I want to drink to the good old days which will never ever come back.’ She is still trying to grasp the fact that she will never see Mai again. Layal and Mai were both born in Alexandria during the summer months. They used to joke about this imagining how their dad and half of the extended family who always spent the summer in Alexandria, had to rush to the hospital when their mum was in labour. They laughed at how their parents kind of made sure that their kids would be born in the city they loved most, even though they lived and worked in Cairo.
Layal was seven years older than Mai, so from day one, she felt that Mai was her baby. She would always kiss her before she went to bed. She would stand next to her mum to watch how she changed her sister’s nappies. She was there when her mum bathed Mai. That was their special time together, the mum and her two daughters. Layal loved her sister from the depth of her heart.
This is why she could not fathom how Mai took away the only person Layal loved, knowing damn well to what extent she was hurting her. And this happened in Alexandria when Layal was 32, and Mai, 25. Youssef was only two years older than Layal and she thought he loved her. He was their dad’s second cousin whose family lived in Alexandria. On that day when they all went for a swim in Montazah, Layal was on her way to the room to change her clothes when she saw Mai and Youssef holding hands and immersed in a passionate kiss. The sun was going down and the view of the sea was breath taking. Layal didn’t say anything. She didn’t want them to see her. A few months later, Mai and Youssef got married, and a year after, Ziad was born.
‘All this no longer matters because she’s gone. She loved Youssef as much as I did and he loved her, not me.’ Layal’s thoughts then shifted to her young nephew and how she was going to explain to him his mum’s absence.”
***
No, something is still missing in my thought process.. Maybe it would be more intriguing to start with Mai’s trip to Manchester when she went to visit Layal:
***
“It’s been two years now since Layal arrived in Manchester to study for the PhD degree in Literature. She was in her thirties and didn’t have anything exciting to do in Cairo, her home city, especially after losing the man she thought he loved her, but who ended up marrying her younger sister! So Layal decided to leave the whole country and come to Manchester University to study under the supervision of a great Professor who was teaching there.
Today, her sister Mai is arriving from Cairo to spend two weeks with her. She has missed Mai so much. Layal’s been reflecting that there is no point dwelling on a relationship which was not meant to be .. Youssef and Mai got married because they loved each other, and she has recovered from losing the love of her life. She has moved on, she’s studying a subject she is passionate about, and she’s content with her life. ‘It would be delightful to take Mai to a couple of the old pubs in Castlefield and have a meal outdoors while watching the sunset.’ This time of day has been so special in the life of the two sisters, and on such a day with clear sky it would be perfect to watch the sunset in a city that Mai hasn’t seen before.”
“‘Oh Mai, how many cities have we visited together my darling, and how many glasses of wine have we toasted while watching the sunset?’ The thought has been on Layal’s mind since the cruel death of Mai. Her lovely sister departed our world after fighting cancer with all her might, leaving behind little Ziad who is only four years old. Layal cannot stop thinking about all the things Mai had dreamt of doing, how her life was snatched away so quickly, and about this void in her heart now that no one will be able to fill; about her utter loneliness and anguish.”
***
Ah, here they are! I can hear them coming up the stairs with all the raucous after they’ve had their swim. Kazuo and Jemila open the door without knocking, giggling, and they rush to hug me. They look happy.. and to be honest with you, I am happy too that they have interrupted my thoughts. I need to take a break from Layal and Mai…
***
The form of the story is inspired by a novel entitled I, the Divine: A Novel in First Chapters, by writer Rabih Alameddine.
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