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A Brief History of an Egyptian
Duck
A remarkable woman we used to call
"Mama Batta" (Mother Duck) died recently in
Cairo. This brief biography is dedicated to her life which
serves as an example of Egyptian courage in the face of limited
means, adversity and lofty ambitions.
Batta was born in 1929 to a middle
class Coptic family in northern Cairo. Her father worked for
the government, which at the time was the most secure employer in
Egypt. Her mother was a housewife who had two earlier sons and
another daughter. Two are still alive today.
The early years were unremarkable, except for the barbaric trauma
of female circumcision. Her second shock came at 16 when she was
told that her school days were over, because she was to be
married, to a total stranger.
Fortunately, the man she married
was young and handsome; he was also an orphan. She did
not have to please another family. But, marriage for her was
a burden in the early years. She lost her first born, a boy,
when she was 17, and another baby daughter before she was 20. Her
agony shaped her later years and made her determined not to lose
any more.
Four children survived, a daughter,
and three sons. She kept her promise not to lose another
child. She had to spend two weeks at a "fever hospital'
in Cairo with a gravely ill child, in a desperate effort to keep
him alive. During these two weeks, her mother was busy preparing
for another child's funeral that never was.
For a while, life smiled on Mama
Batta. Her children went through Egyptian education with
above average grades. She got up at dawn every day to
prepare them for school. Her husband, an engineer at the
Egyptian railways, worked hard to make ends meet.
Early signs of frustration soon
appeared when it became obvious the family needs far exceeded
their limited means. Batta advised her husband to seek a
private sector job for better pay. But, his attempts
failed. Employers said he was too naive; he said he was
honest.
Mama Batta relished the story of her husband's failed private
sector job. He was a brilliant engineer who could fix
anything. He once worked with for a company that fixed
home appliances, especially washing machines. He was sent on
a house call to a terrified housewife, who lived in a luxury
apartment block. She told him that her gas cooker almost
exploded when she tried to light it up, and would he please check
it out. She was too scared to go to the kitchen to show him
the cooker.
He went in, examined the cooker,
found nothing wrong with it, except that the top ring was
misplaced. He tested the cooker and told the customer:
"Nothing wrong with your cooker, only a misplaced ring -no
charge this time". When he reported back to the company
the manager called him in and told him politely that his
employment was terminated. "We will all go bankrupt if we
worked that way", he said to him. The manager wanted
him to 'invent' a problem and charge highly for fixing it!
It seems that such honest men do not last long. When he died
at 47, he left Mama Batta a young widow with four children, and no
decent means of support.
She summoned her children and said:
"We either lie down and die, or we fight. It is going
to be hard for a few years, but your best weapon is education.
Finish your collage education and let no distraction take you away
from that.
At 39, she refused to remarry, and
dedicated herself to creating four success stories despite the
bleak outlook. Unable to raise any significant income, she
concentrated on limiting the family's needs. She had to be
at home to take care of the routine and supervise the studies.
Home for the children was like a work camp and a library: books
everywhere and a quiet time to study. Home cooking, cleaning and
sewing became regular duties for Mama Batta. She was also
known to study some of her children's books, and became conversant
in English.
The kids knew from an early age
that whatever else they did, they did not cross Mama Batta.
One friend of the family tried to, and lived to regret it. He was
a guarantor on a loan taken by her husband. When her husband
died, the insurance repaid the loan in full, but the 'friend'
continued to claim the money from Mama Batta for three whole
months after her husband's death. He claimed the money, even
though he knew she needed every penny. When she eventually
found out, she went straight to his superiors at work and made her
case known to a large group of railway workers who were friends of
her late husband. The man was hounded everywhere until he
came to Mama Batta pleading with her to forgive him and take the
money back. She took the money, and then kicked him out.
Other 'hard men' were known to fear
Mama Batta. When a new landlord tried to raise her monthly
rent, she paid her usual rent in court, and he never got paid by
her directly ever again.
All four of Mama Batta
children graduated with university degrees. When two of them
decided to go abroad, she encouraged them to go forth and build
their future. She would see them off with a
smile, then go home from the airport and cry her heart out.
She rejected her family's advice to
remarry. She also rejected an advice to find manual jobs for
her kids and cut short their education. And she rejected all
invitations to leave Egypt and go abroad: "I was born here,
and I will die here", she said.
When she died, on May 27, 2000, she
was sitting down in her favorite chair. "She looked
asleep.. wouldn't answer me when I spoke to her", said her
youngest son, who lived with her. She was later examined
by her other son, a medical doctor. He concluded that a massive
heart attack ended her life painlessly that morning.
He arranged for all documentation and procedures to be
completed within a few hours.
In hot Cairo, funerals are usually arranged on the day of
death. She was buried at 5 pm in a private family tomb, very near
to her husband's.
In a letter she wrote two days earlier to be posted to her
third son abroad , she wrote:
"I hear you are planning to
buy me an apartment for my retirement. I do not need another
apartment, I am happy here. The years have run out fast. I feel
lonely sometimes and long to talk to my husband.. I have a long
story to tell him....".
A note from Jimmy Dunn
Mama Batta was the mother of Adel
Murad, the author of this column, and this issue is dedicated to
her memory. However, this brief memorial to her points out
both the dedication to learning that is so prevalent in Egypt, as
well as the strength and foundation of Egyptian families. |
