The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [140]
But I digress. The village of Atiyah, where our men and their families lived, was a model of its kind. Not only was it unusually clean, but it boasted a number of amenities not often found in such small places. Abdullah and his kin had commanded (and deserved) high wages, and I daresay their long acquaintance with us had modified some of their views of the world. Egypt was changing, slowly and not always for the better, but the younger men like Selim were far more open to new ideas than their fathers had been.
It had been almost five years since Abdullah left us, but whenever I went to the village my eyes automatically looked for the tall dignified form that had once been the first to greet us. Now it was Selim, his father’s son and successor, who advanced to welcome our party. The village was draped with banners and bunting, and the noise was deafening—dogs barking, drums beating, children shouting, and rising over it all the shrill ululating cries of the women. A guard of honor escorted us to Selim’s house, where a feast was to precede the fantasia.
Rugs and cushions covered the floor of the principal reception room, and we were invited to take our places upon them. I made a point of sitting next to Geoffrey, for I assumed he would appreciate a few tactful hints as to how to behave. To be sure, Egyptologists were less narrow-minded than other non-Egyptians, but few of them mingled socially with their workers, and some had never tasted Egyptian food.
Ignorant persons picture Egyptians as crouching round a platter of food and stuffing it into their mouths with both hands. In fact, the procedure is quite elegant and refined in its own way. After we had seated ourselves round the large copper tray that served as a table, servants poured water over our hands, into a basin with a pierced cover, and we dried them on the serviette (footah) that had been supplied. In a low, reverent voice Selim intoned the blessing—Bismillahi—in the name of God—inviting us to partake. Round flat loaves of bread are used as plates and as utensils, a piece being torn off, doubled, and used to scoop up bits of food. It takes some practice to do this neatly, but then, so does the use of a knife and fork! Knives were not necessary; the food was in the form of yakhnee, stewed meat with onions, or other edibles that could be daintily picked up with the thumb and the first and second fingers. One uses only the right hand, of course; when a roasted fowl must be dismembered it is sometimes necessary for two persons to cooperate, each using only the right hand.
I will not describe the dishes in detail; they included several of my favorites, including a large dish of bamiyeh, which is the pod of the hibiscus lightly cooked and sprinkled with lime juice. As platter followed heaping platter and the temperature rose higher, Geoffrey’s pale face grew flushed and finally he fell back against the cushions with a subdued groan.
“I don’t want to let the side down, Mrs. Emerson,” he whispered. “But I don’t think I can go on much longer. I’ve never eaten so much in my life!”
“You have done nobly,” I assured him. “Just nibble.”
We were all uncomfortably replete by the time we removed from the house to the village square, where the fantasia was to take place. Chairs had been placed for us (I saw Geoffrey brighten visibly when he realized he no longer had to kneel) and colored lanterns hung round the perimeter of the space.
The principal forms of entertainment at these celebrations are music and dancing. Egyptians are very fond of music; it is a tradition that goes back to ancient times. Modern Egyptian singing sounds strange to Western ears at first. I now found it very beautiful when it was well performed, as I expected would be the case that evening.