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Al-Ahram Weekly 23 - 29 September 1999 Issue No. 448 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 23 - 29 September 1999 Issue No. 448
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Comment Focus Special Features Profile Travel Living Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Let not your grief...
By Naguib Gouda
In your August 19-25 issue, you ran the obituary of Nawal El-Mahallawi, titled A Powerful Presence. I would like to share a more personal and private side of the same incredible woman, a woman I am blessed and privileged to have known and been strongly influenced by throughout my life. In her passing, I have lost one of my dearest friends.
Nawal El-Mahallawi
Nawal and my mother, Nadia Gouda, were best friends for over half a century. I reaped the benefits of their relationship over the years -- while developing my own strong ties with Nawal. It was only in recent years that I began to understand the other side of her -- the successful and "powerful" one mentioned in your article. To me, Nawal was a mentor -- a person who exemplified the meaning of the word friend.
As a young child, I remember Nawal in our home almost daily. Her generosity, of both time and attention, is one of my earliest and most lasting memories. It has always been a constant in my life. Her treatment of me over the years taught me how to treat others -- especially young children. It was the little things she did... and they were endless: my first "left-handed" fountain pen. The soundtracks to The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins, and the time she spent teaching them to me. My photograph on her desk. Lunches at the Nile Hilton (just the two of us). Those are the things that make children feel special. As I grew up, her attention and love never wavered. Although she had countless nephews, nieces, friends, not to mention her "business" life and the eventual birth of her own wonderful daughter, Amina, she continued to make me (and the rest of our family) feel special.
Even after we moved to Canada from Egypt, little changed. Her phone calls were always the first, early on the morning of our birthdays. She made special trips for special occasions -- including my sister Nadine's wedding and my mother's 60th birthday (a surprise that we kept under wraps until she arrived on the doorstep). Hers was the first phone call on my wedding day -- and it never occurred to me, when I picked up the receiver, that anyone else would be at the other end of the line. It made the most wonderful day of my life complete. As I look around me today, my home and my heart are filled with her gifts.
Nawal came to visit us in Toronto in August 1998 to see my mother, who had recently been diagnosed with cancer. The days we spent together were most special -- although none of us had any idea they would be our final ones with her. They were likely some of Nawal's last carefree days, as she found out about her own illness shortly upon her return to Cairo. We laughed, we shopped for CDs and books (as always), we celebrated another of my mother's birthdays and we all spent endless hours talking and being with one another. As I said good-bye to her at the airport, I already longed for her next visit.
Our next meeting, if God wills it, will be in heaven. Almost exactly a year after her visit, she was gone. It was only days before my mother's birthday. More than anything, I wanted Nawal to call her that morning. I knew her birthday would never be the same without that call. That morning, I gave my mother a framed photograph of the two of them. It was the best I could do to keep them close together. That photograph has not left her side since 21 August, nor has Nawal. She never will.
Just a few days ago, Amina sent us a beautiful book about the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. It was Nawal's final gift to my parents. It seems she had ordered two copies of the book just before her passing -- one for her family, and one for ours. I should say, one for each of her families.
The angels must have smiled as she entered paradise -- a place from where she now challenges each of us to carry her spirit of grace, dignity, courage, integrity, humour, intellect, love for others and most especially for friends, family and God. In that way she never really dies. We will always hear her voice -- it will always be with us.
To all who knew or were touched by Nawal, I share this advice from the words of William Shakespeare: "Let not your grief be measured by her worth, for then your sorrow will have no end."
