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Al-Ahram Weekly 22 - 28 June 2000 Issue No. 487 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 22 - 28 June 2000 Issue No. 487
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Focus Opinion Culture Features Travel Living Sports Profile People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Hamza's predicament
By Fayza Hassan
Between 1962, when we married, and 1967, when we finally left for Australia, my husband and I gradually forfeited all our foreign friends as well as our lifestyle. As he battled with Egyptian bureaucracy to get our documents together for emigration, my husband took refuge in dreams of faraway lands. We would first tour Europe, he would say, poring over maps; we could stay in Paris, and maybe London for a while. One of his best friends and associates had settled recently in Milan. We could surprise him with a call and also go to Rome for a couple of days. The other day, Hamza came to see me. He was rather distraught and at first made little sense as he tried to pussyfoot around the issue. Eventually I managed to sort out his story. His wife Enayat, who works as an occasional cleaning lady for our family, had disappeared, apparently leaving their four young children to his care.
Hamza does sometimes odd jobs around our house, albeit rather reluctantly. He thinks highly of himself and does not stoop to perform any menial task. He belongs to the type of men who strut with their legs apart, clad in jeans obviously too tight for him. Whenever he accompanies his wife on a day's work, he constantly stops to admire himself in the various mirrors that he pretends to polish. Enayat has often complained that he beats her, takes her money and refuses to give her a housekeeping allowance.
She, however, energetic, competent and a good cook, is making a good wage and, she says, does not really need his contribution to provide for the children, but demands it on principle and because it is not wise to leave a man with cash to dispose of as he pleases.
For the past year, Enayat has suspected that Hamza has a second wife. "Nothing remains hidden for long," she told me once. "Sooner or later, I'll know the truth."
When changes in the Personal Status Law were published in the papers, Enayat had become extremely interested, asking me to read her the articles pertaining to khul'. One of her friends, a poor illiterate woman, she explained, was in need of advice. Was hiring a lawyer going to be expensive? She asked many pointed questions regarding alimony and child support. Like her, her friend had four children. How could she force her former husband to pay for them once she had divorced him? What if he left the city, the country? Clearly my answers did not satisfy her completely and I heard that she was asking the same questions of other members of the family, favouring advice from the men who joked and told her that a woman's lot was to suffer at the hand of her husband and that Hamza was a good man, a little foolish perhaps but caring for her nevertheless. Protesting that her inquiries were for the benefit of that other woman, and that she, of course, was not thinking of leaving her husband, Enayat listened carefully to the legal snippets that transpired from their banter. She must have been scheming all the while, preparing her exit from an unhappy marriage nevertheless. Now, according to a crestfallen Hamza, she had been gone for two days and search as he may, he could not find her. "Don't you have another wife?" I asked him suddenly, remembering the kitchen gossip. Hamza hesitated. "She does not know about it, he finally uttered, looking cocky and sheepish at the same time.
Enayat did not want any more children and his mother had told him that he was entitled to as many offspring as he wished. His own brother had five boys and only one girl, as opposed to his two girls and two boys. His sister-in-law was pregnant again and soon he, the older son, would no longer be able to hold his head high in the village when he went to visit for the Eid. His new wife had given him a girl anyway and he was thinking of getting rid of her, he said, but now Enayat, on whom he had always relied, had gone and left him with four mouths to feed, which he could not possibly do without the money she gave him every month. Then Hamza made a strange request. He wanted me to prevail on members of my family, asking them not to employ Enayat anymore. All this money she was earning had turned her head: it gave her ideas, he said. Maybe when she found herself resourceless, she would change her mind and once more become the docile wife he had known. Meanwhile, he was sending the children to his mother-in-law's, as he had no intention of looking after them.
Enayat turned up a fortnight later. She looked buoyant in a new pretty dress and matching scarf. She needed a loan, she said, wanting to complete the two rooms she had been building, unbeknownst to Hamza, on her mother's terrace in Muqattam. Under threat of being shamefully divorced by his wife, Hamza had agreed to initiate the proceedings. She had renounced all her rights, including the custody of her children, but he had been so horrified at the prospect of the expenses that he had gladly turned them over to her. A newly divorced woman with four children to bring up alone, Enayat was nevertheless in good spirits. "At least, I will be keeping all my money to do with as I please," she said happily. Would she think of remarrying? Why would she want to do a thing like that, she asked with a throaty laugh; men were much more trouble than they were worth. She extended her hands towards me, the long tapered fingers surprisingly beautiful despite their exposure to various housecleaning products. As long as she had those, she was more than able to look after herself and her children, she stated proudly, then added with a chuckle that Hamza's new wife was out looking for work in a good family. If I heard of anything, I should tell her; after all, it was not the poor woman's fault if she was stuck with a lame character like Hamza.
