The novel in English
Chapter 1
Beep Risk
Beep risk as we call it the harbinger of an air raid
during a time of war,Then the lights were extinguished
and darkness enveloping everything and people rush to the homes and into
shelters and then begins series of horror to hear the sound of bombs and explosives ringing.
I was four years old then when I heard the whistle or beep warning for the first time.
We were in the middle of the night and ast I went to bed next to my mother Fatima,
who was born in a poor family in the area of Dar es Salaam in the south of Cairo,
where the father, Aly Abdul Hady, a construction worker, had to t ravel to earn a living in Syria
so that he could spend on his wife, Sadia, and his children Nadia, Fatima, Samia, Soad ,Nabiha and Gaber.
Perhaps Grandpa was happy when my father Muhammad al-Sharif, the cloth dealer, proposed marriage to my mother.
My grandmother, Sadia, also thought that luck has smiled to her daughter Fatima
and she will finally enjoy a standard of living better than that she lived in during her twenty-three years of her age.
The wedding ceremony was held and before the first year had passed I came to life
and immediately father named me after his father's name,Sayed, the cloth dealer
in Haret Al-yahood, an alley in the crowded commercial area of Moski,
where customers came from all over the country to shop various goods.
Contrary to the family of my mother, who was descended from Shebin alkom,
capital of Menoufiya governorate in the Nile Delta, My grandfather , Sayed, emigrated
with his father Nasreldin Al-Sharif from Kafr Gerza, Giza governorate toward Cairo in the north,
where the whole family settled in the area of Misr al-kadima while starting their business in the Moski district.
My mother hugged me tightly while I was lying beside her in bed.
I was clinching into her brown gown which was embroidered with pink flowers,
took a look at the gray ceiling of the room and then to the corners.
There was only this wooden bedwe laid on, and a wardrobe for parents' clothes;
it was old and needed force to be locked so that it could keep the clothes of my mother
and some of my father's, who took the rest with him in the trip which he started before a month.
My father used to travel from time to time on business, and I did not know, as a small child,
where he used to travel but only to highlight the names of Syria and Lebanon as I used to hear then.
My mother, and in the absence of my father, had to take care of me and my sister seham that did not exceed two years old yet.
I felt my mother heart pulses fail quickly and drops of sweat on her forehead
were to fall down to water the pink flowers embroiled on her gown!
My mother started reciting some of the few verses of the holy Qur'an Say:
I seek refuge in the Lord of mankind, The King of mankind, The God of mankind,
From the evil of the sneaking whisperer, Who whispereth in the hearts of mankind,
Of the jinn and of mankind.
My mother continued to pray for surviving and cutting off the danger
till the beep stopped and the minutes passed like hours.
I got up in the morning then my mother helped me dress up the kindergarten uniform
and put in my small bag bean and cheese sandwiches.
She took my hand and landed stairs from the sixth floor of the building where we lived.
We started walking in the long Hassan Al-anwar street, which extends from "Magra-al-eyun" area
to the mosque of Amr ibn El-Aas, the first mosque built after the Islamic conquest of Egypt.
It is the same mosque, which I started later to hear the curse of gossip and rumors that the mosque will fly one day
with the worshipers during the prayer on the last Friday of the month of Ramadan,
and of course, as the rumor claims, the mosque will fly to heaven
and therefore the worshippers within will be among the luckiest!!
And there at the end of the road and before reaching the crossroads at the Mosque of Amr Ibn El-Aas, and the Hanging Church, one of the historical Coptic churches inEgypt, there was this spacious square where the craftsmen who were employed in the manufacture of pots and pottery gathered there and practiced their jobs in small shops.
And during passing there with my mother, and before reaching the kindergarten
there was a small wooden stall sells cigarettes, candy, newspapers and magazines.
Coming out of the stall, I heard that song through the large antique wooden radio,
which was put on a dusty shelf. Though old and dusty,
the radio's tone was so high that it was raising the attention of each of the by passers on that road.
I was excited then to hear that song with the enthusiastic tone,
its words arestill ringing in my ears in spite of the dozen years passed;
the words say (Khally elselah Sahy Sahy , keep the weapon awake, my weapon is in my hands .....)
And perhaps the rest of the words melted in my mind over time.
In 1973, the great joy all around me! I was a 4 years old child hearing the slogans,
"the fight for freedom and dignity, we fought and defeated Israel,
we raised our heads and the heads of all the Arabs once again",
many words with great meaning, I could not fully understand ,
but I could understand that there are celebrations,
and that there is a victory; victory's celebrations seem to be delightful.
The newspaper stand became a source of joy and happiness for me every time
I pass by with my mother heading to the kindergarten, where the successive victory songs
coming out of the old wooden radio could fill my heart with warmth and excitement.