4

Against the occupation

By early 1922, despite the frustrations endured by the Wafd in Paris and London, Egypt was moving ever more swiftly towards a semblance of independence. The British had apparently come to recognise, despite themselves, that the continued subjugation of an unwilling nation was not a viable plan. It fell ultimately to Yakan’s successor as Prime Minister, Abd al-Khaliq Tharwat Pasha, to reach an accommodation with the British and bring about the much-desired goal. Talks between Tharwat and Viscount Allenby eventually reached the conclusion which the two sides had been moving towards since the Milner mission. On 28 February 1922, the British unilaterally proclaimed the abolition of the protectorate in a statement in the British House of Commons, and Egypt became independent once more. The decision was formally published in the official gazette of 16 March 1922.¹ The problem, as it would emerge, lay in the areas in which the British wished to reserve power for themselves. Nevertheless, had Ali lived, he would have been so happy to see the achievement of the goal for which he had always worked. After his death, Huda was remorseful that she had been unjust to Ali, as she could no longer set things right with him. Though she had in the past admired Zaghlul almost without reservation, she had by now become yet more disillusioned with him.

Ali’s death was a turning point for Huda, a moment of profound sadness and regret, and she began to mull over her future. Her marriage had begun strangely, with the lavish wedding of a child bride, followed by seven years of separation in which she had been allowed time to grow from a girl into a woman. But after her married life had begun again in earnest, Ali and she had grown together and had become close. She admired his serious approach to life, and his sense of responsibility, but he also admired his young wife for her intellect, her passionate beliefs and her determination. As the new era of her life without Ali began, Huda mentally revisited the faces of all the dear ones she had lost, who had struggled for a better life in Egypt or waited for the day of independence to dawn. The list included her father, her mother, Hasiba, Jazb-Ashiq, Eugénie, Adila, even Louisette, but especially the Bahitha, Malak Hifni Nasif, and most of all her brother Umar and Ali himself.

On the other hand, each of these individuals had left someone behind with whom Huda had maintained a relationship. Each of her late friends had left behind children or dear friends of their own, all of whom now surrounded Huda. She had taken under her wing Adila’s adopted little girl, Céza, and Jazb Ashiq’s son Ali Saad al-Din, who was the bosom friend of Attia’s son, al-Sayyid Muhammad al-Saqqaf. These two young men were very close to Huda, especially Ali Saad al-Din, who regularly communicated with her and wrote her long, affectionate letters from Liverpool, where he was studying engineering. Others who were close to her were the circles of friends left by her brother Umar and the late nationalist hero Mustapha Kamil, including Juliette Adam. With Ali’s death she was also now solely responsible for her own children, her beloved Bassna and Muhammad. She felt as though a chapter of her life had come to an end, and a new one had begun. The challenge now lay in making another life for herself and for the people who were left around her.

Huda had taken on some responsibility for Malak’s brother and sister, Magd al-Din and Kawkab Hifni Nasif. Huda paid for their studies abroad. Magd al-Din was in Paris, where he had become the president of the Egyptian Students’ Association, while Kawkab was a medical student in England. In addition, from the incomparable Bahitha’s ashes, Mayy Ziadé had arisen, a young woman whom Huda admired and loved, who had participated in the lectures for women Huda had been instrumental in organising at the University of Cairo. She was a writer, a poetess, a journalist, and most of all an unusually free-minded woman whose presence in Cairo was appreciated by all who met her.

Other friends were attracted to her side. In her circle in 1922 was Jeanne Marquès, who had grown up on the French island of Guadeloupe. It was she who had run to tell Huda at the height of the nationalist fervour that there was a rumour that her husband Ali was being targeted by the police. Jeanne told her many stories about the wonderful tropical island of her birth, with its turquoise waters. She spoke in a very individual low, grave whisper. She was of pure French descent, she said, and ‘the blood throbbing in her veins was that of her buccaneer ancestors.’ She was an intrepid woman who seemed never to have known fear in her life, but was haunted by the memory of the kisses and farewell hugs of her nanny, who had taught her Creole as her first language. Huda soon found out that Jeanne, who was a linguist by default, was also a gifted writer, like her famous sister, Marcelle Capy, who lived in France. While in Europe, Huda had also often met Francine Lebrun, Eugénie’s sister, whose husband was Franck Daurat. They kept in touch with Huda by correspondence, and were like a second family to her in France. Francine Daurat had come to Cairo to be with Huda. Odile Rodin, who was the niece of Huda’s own former teacher Mme Richard, had also joined her set.

Eugénie had long before introduced Huda to the lively and strikingly witty French woman Gabrielle Rousseau, director of the ‘Petit Lycée’, the primary school for girls at the Lycée Français in Bab al-Luq, in the heart of Cairo. Gaby had swiftly agreed to become the children’s private tutor at home, and introduced them to the joys of reading French. In due course, Gaby began to spend her summer holidays with the children in Ramleh, where she also enjoyed the luxurious house, the sea, the long walks along the seashore and the fresh air coming from the north, which made her dream of France, across the Mediterranean. She was close to the family, and became yet closer to Huda after being at her side when she discovered Ali dead at the Mena House, one of the worst moments of her life. Gaby was a tiny, thin woman whose poise concealed her great mental and physical energy. She was naturally boisterous, and found stimulation in the environment of Huda’s household, where she was able to meet and make friends with such people as the sculptor Mahmud Mukhtar and other artists and thinkers.

Mukhtar became a great friend of Gaby’s and therefore of Huda’s. He was an enormously talented sculptor, originally from a humble family in a village near Mehalla al-Kubra. His talent and good fortune took him to the School of Fine Arts in Cairo and then to Paris, where he soon made a reputation. Gaby admired his work, and was amazed by his wild wit, which she was able to share with him because she herself had such a sense of humour. He told her all about his conversations with the poet Hafiz Ibrahim at the Café Riche every day, his escapades at al-Liwa bar and the activities of La Chimère, the group of artists of which he was president, and which he had set up with other artists such as Ragheb Ayad, Muhammad Hasan and others. They enjoyed the patronage of Prince Yusuf Kamal, who had founded an art school on his estate in Darb al-Gamamiz, and were supported by Guillaume Laplagne, the French artist who was the school’s director.²

Another venue where Huda’s friendships had developed was the Société des Amis de l’Art, where wealthy Egyptians mingled with artists from Egypt and abroad. Art and politics were linked, and the artists were passionately committed to the nationalist movement. In 1920, the Association of Egyptian Students in France had arranged a meeting between Mukhtar and the Wafd delegation which had arrived in Paris in 1919, and the outcome was that the young sculptor would be commissioned immediately to start work on a project to be called Egypt’s Awakening (Nahdat Misr) intended to symbolise Egypt’s renaissance. It was agreed that the Wafd, with its rich sponsors, of whom Ali was one, would cover his expenses. Mukhtar began work on the project at once, and returned to Cairo in 1922 to begin the actual construction.

In the event, the cost was enormous, and after Zaghlul’s death in 1927 Government funds were necessary to see the project through. The sculpture took the form of a gigantic monument in which a sphinx, symbolising eternal Egypt, sits poised next to a graceful female figure lifting her veil from her face and head, symbolising the future of Egypt freed from its ancestral constraints. Finally unveiled by the King on 20 May 1928, the statue stood in Bab al-Hadid Square, next to Cairo’s principal railway station, where it remained until 1955, when it was replaced by the ancient statue of Ramses II brought from Upper Egypt to be put there in its place. Mukhtar’s statue now stands at the gates of Cairo University.

The link between art and politics was made much of at the time and many articles were written promoting Mukhtar as the Egyptian artist par excellence. Magd al-Din Hifni Nasif wrote an article in Al-Akhbar newspaper entitled ‘Mukhtar and the artistic Renaissance of Egypt’. Huda had given Mukhtar and his Cairo project her enthusiastic support, and she continued to support him after Ali’s death. Huda’s belief was that art played a key role in civilisation, and that her support for cultural activities would assist in her promotion of intellectual societies for women. She built up her own collection, and used her purchasing power to support Egyptian artists.

Weekly salons were a well-established custom in cultivated circles in Egypt, and many were held by people in Huda’s circle at their various houses. After Ali’s death, Huda continued with her own weekly salon. Her day was always Tuesday, as her father’s had been in the past. Salons teemed with writers, poets, thinkers, painters, sculptors, singers and politicians, and the elites of both East and West. Under Huda’s aegis, women participated in this world. Many people tried their hand at writing in prose and verse, others chose to paint or to sculpt, and most engaged in conversations conveying their wit, their wide ranging education and their will to be creative and to take their destiny into their own hands. Literary salons were also held in the houses of writers such as Abbas Mahmud al-Aqqad and Mayy Ziadé, as in the houses of politicians, royal-family members and other wealthy men and women belonging to the high society of Egypt. An Egyptian social life, the roots of which went back to the days of Ismail and even Muhammad Ali, ran parallel to and often overlapped with the social life of the British rulers and of the foreign community established in the country.

Egypt was blessed with many able men in its political parties, its professions and its social institutions. It was Huda’s insight that the potential of Egypt’s women also needed to be realised. The new feminist movement could be of service, at the international level, to make known the capacities of Egyptian women and to bring about a change in the world’s attitude towards Egypt. The Egyptian elite as a whole was highly articulate. In addition to Arabic and sometimes Turkish, many possessed at least one European language, and all were conversant with both Western and oriental culture. By bringing such people together, Huda hoped to widen horizons even further.

In sharp contrast to her successful social and public life, however, Huda’s home situation changed enormously, and potentially for the worse after Ali’s death. The effect of his departure was profound on all those who surrounded him. He had been the sole master of the family fortune. Now, all within the family were their own masters, and each held his or her own share of the enormous but fragmented estate, with the potential for dissent that this implied. This meant that Huda’s children were to be not merely independent but rich in their own right. However, in accordance with Islamic law, the home was part of the widow’s inheritance, and Huda became the owner of the vast family mansion. All felt in their hearts that Huda had become the head of her household. Her prime concern, in her private life, was the welfare of the circle of young people for whom she felt responsible.

Huda’s immediate family had also already been enlarged by the constant presence of her younger friends and cousins. When Huda’s uncle Ahmed Idris, Iqbal’s brother, had died in a riding accident, her two young Circassian cousins, Hawa and Huria, had been sent first to live with their uncle Yusuf, who still lived in Bandirma. Huda had asked Yusuf to bring them from Turkey to live with her and her children. Her other protégés, Ali Saad al-Din, Jazb-Ashiq’s son, and Muhammad al-Saqqaf, Attia’s son, caused her some concern. They had been attached to the family for a long time, having once lived as children in Jami Sharkas Street, where the old Sultan family house had been and where their mothers, Jazb-Ashiq and Attia, had for a long time been welcome guests. The two young men had gone to England, where they both studied engineering in Liverpool. Ali Saad al-Din sent long letters to his cousin, faithfully describing what he saw and did. However, the news he sent from Liverpool about Muhammad was alarming. According to these reports, the young Saqqaf was too fond of amusement, and squandered his money. Huda came to believe he should have gone to live in Singapore with his father, who had returned there to be a wealthy and influential merchant. Rather than quietly absorbing the strength that his powerful father might have passed on to him, the young man had apparently chosen to lead a profligate student life in Liverpool.

In Cairo, there had been something in the air between Muhammad al-Saqqaf and Céza Nabarawi, Adila’s adopted daughter. Both were attached to the Shaarawi household, though without being from within it, and they had played together as children. Céza went to a French convent boarding school in Alexandria and then lived with her grandparents. Thus, they had drifted apart. In England, Muhammad, amply supplied with funds by his father, had now seemingly justified Huda’s concern by behaving irresponsibly. Céza still seemed to be thinking of Muhammad as a romantic prospect, but Huda took it upon herself to warn Céza against considering an alliance with a young man she was informed was unreliable, whatever his wealth. Much later, Huda came to regret this, and felt she might have misjudged the young man.

Céza grew into a tall, slender and self-possessed young woman. She wore her hair long, and gracefully tied it behind her head. She and Bassna had become close friends over the years, despite their differing personalities. They were two girls of an age, and were perhaps brought closer by their shared passion for French culture and devotion to the French language. Céza was a great lover of everything French, and she spoke and wrote the language impeccably. She was also a very determined young woman, who was sober, intelligent and never succumbed to whimsicality. She did not allow difficulties to ruffle her imperturbability, and she was intellectually insatiable. Her steady temperament belied the Irish blood that ran in her veins, inherited from her grandfather, Abdalla Bey al-Ingilizi, an Irishman who had re-invented himself as a Muslim Egyptian. She was no beauty, however, in contrast to her late mother, and her attractiveness lay more in her mind and expression than in her features, which were plain though pleasant.

Both Bassna and Muhammad were adolescents when Ali died, but were already attracted to the political and intellectual ideals that made up Huda’s world, and which Ali had so effectively supported. Bassna and Muhammad both read widely and were inclined to philosophising. They were attracted more by abstract thinking than mundane aspirations. Huda’s daughter Bassna in particular was devastated by the loss of her father, and would mourn him for the rest of her life. She spoke good French and was passionate about French culture, and devoted to Gabrielle Rousseau, her tutor who had become her friend. In addition, like Huda in her younger years, she was predisposed to melancholy. Her deep upset at her father’s death led her to seek at a very young age the reassurance of an older man’s affection. She very soon became engaged to a rising politician named Mahmud Sami Pasha, to whom she was married a few months later. Sami’s career had been brilliant. He had risen to be Minister of Communications, and had just been posted to lead the new Egyptian Embassy in Washington as Egypt’s Ambassador to the United States. He was a big man, large in girth, but had presence and charisma. He had a reassuring manner, and emanated an air of great competence. He was kind and charming to all he met, and very attentive to Bassna, who clearly adored him. The only possible problem between them was the age difference.

As Bassna saw it, however, this was a minor difficulty. The age difference between her own parents had been 26 years, but she felt that her mother had been lucky to be married to her father. Her instinct was that she had no time to lose. She was proud, at the age of 19, to be marrying a man who was a Pasha and a brilliant diplomat. She was awed by Huda’s achievements, and was determined to live up to her standards, feeling that Huda might have good cause to be proud of her one day. For the moment, however, she sought refuge in her husband’s strong personality and kindly temperament. Asked if she was too young for the marriage, she would reply, ‘I shall be the youngest ambassador’s wife in the world!’ Huda had some misgivings, but bowed to Bassna’s will, and the marriage went ahead. Once married, Bassna went to England with her new husband in the summer of 1923. Their plan was to spend some time together in England, and then to go to Washington, where their first task would be to purchase suitable premises for the new Egyptian Embassy in Washington and to set about the vital task of conquering the hearts of the American people for Egypt.

Huda’s son Muhammad also grieved for his father, but for him there were other consequences. At the age of just 17, notwithstanding the intellectual inclinations he had shown, he seemed to grasp with both hands the sudden freedom resulting from his father’s death. So far, he had spent most of his time with his books and teachers, but now he suddenly enjoyed a new freedom to do as he pleased and to spend his money as he wished. His sudden release from his father’s watchful eye led to alarming signs of vulnerability at an early age. He was a frail, dark, attractive boy, with Eastern looks, who had been a passionate reader and almost a recluse. He had a side that was not merely intellectual but even scholarly. For example, he had carefully read Rousseau’s Social Contract in French, although it had recently been translated into Arabic by Muhammad Husain Haikal Pasha. Haikal’s translation was widely read in Egypt at the time. Having read the book in both languages, young Muhammad was able to compare the two versions, so that he came to know the book almost by heart. Nevertheless, he had gained until now little knowledge of the world. His friendships had been limited to members of his own family and their close circle, and he felt most at ease with women. With his cousin Muhammad Sultan, Umar Sultan’s son, and Muhammad Sultan’s sister Naila, together with Céza, Bassna, Hawa, Huria and other young people of their age, he played endless games and acted out fantasies. His romantic leanings were reinforced by the lack of responsibilities and by his penchant for the imagination and towards such romantic writers as Goethe. The difficulty for Huda was to keep immediate family matters under control while continuing to lead her own increasingly intense social and intellectual life. The day would inevitably come when her own children would cause her grief, leading her to rue the time she had spent on her public commitments and to regret her outside enthusiasms.

For now, however, it was time for Huda to embark on new ventures. In 1922, after Ali’s death, Huda realised that in his lifetime, though he had in some ways circumscribed her freedom, the support and advice he had given her had been invaluable. This was all the more surprising in view of the fact that he had not been a young man, and in the light of the prevalent conservative mentality of the age. At first, Huda continued to attempt to play a part on the political scene. Soon after Ali’s death, she addressed a meeting of the Central Committee of Wafdist Women, assuring them that she would not desert their cause:

Neither illness, grief, nor fear of censure can prevent me from shouldering my duty with you in the continuing fight for our national rights. I have vowed to you and to myself to struggle until the end of my life to rescue our beloved country from occupation and oppression. I shall always honour the trust you have placed in me. Let it never be said that there was a woman in Egypt who failed, for personal reasons, to perform her duty to the nation. I would rather die than bring shame upon myself and my sisters. I will remain by your side and at your head through good and bad times, with hope in the future while we defend the rights of our beloved country. Repeated hardships…will not deter me from fighting for the full independence of my country.³

Coincidentally, in the month before Ali’s death, Huda had also received encouragement to continue her political struggle in the shape of a letter from Juliette Adam, Umar’s and Mustapha Kamil’s old friend and mentor in France, who addressed her as ‘My dear Huda’:

My son Ali Kamil, the brother of my much loved Mustafa, the intimate friend of our dear Umar, has told me that you have been struggling during the past three years for the martyred homeland, and that you have been the leader of all those noble Egyptian women and girls who have defended their beloved country against the foreign incursion. I congratulate you for choosing this courageous mission, which is worthy of you and of your family. I wish you and your heroic Party a well deserved success in these efforts. We love Egypt as a painfully oppressed sister and in France we shall continue to defend her. For us, she is personified by the valiant freedom fighter, the late Mustapha Kamil, the former head of Egypt’s National Party. My affectionate wishes, Juliette Adam.⁴

For Huda, there was a kind of magic to this letter. As with other moments that were significant for her, it brought with it a vivid recollection of the past. Both her brother Umar Sultan and Mustapha Kamil seemed instantly to be once more in her presence. Huda had shown Ali the letter, which he too appeared to appreciate, as he also felt keenly the absence of Umar Sultan and Mustapha Kamil, and wished they were still by his side. The letter was to become Huda’s credo. The time had come, she argued, for the women of Egypt to demonstrate that, even in contemporary times, they were not inferior to their men. She memorised its words until she learned them by heart.

On 27 January 1922, Huda sent a response to Juliette’s letter, picking up her pen to write this spontaneous reply:

Madam, I find it difficult to say how much I have been moved by this affectionate remembrance. It has furnished me with moral comfort at a moment when, in the passion of the struggle, we need all the more to feel supported and encouraged. We are proud and honoured by your expression of sympathy. Permit me, on behalf of all my Egyptian sisters, to thank you, Madam, for the interest you take in our unfortunate country. Because we firmly believe in our rights and are confident in the future, we are determined to struggle to the end and to achieve our freedom at all costs. We wish to remain worthy of those who have sacrificed everything for their homeland and work with us even in exile. Please accept, Madam, our best regards and our profound gratitude.⁵

This letter crossed with a postcard, sent the previous day by Juliette from her summer residence in France at the Abbaye de Gif, at Gif-sur-Yvette, overlooking the Yvette river in the Chevreuse valley not far to the south-west of Paris. Umar, who had often visited the Abbaye, had described to Huda the romantic scene, where an ancient abbey stood in a garden with fountains near a folly in the shape of a Greek temple built by Juliette’s father. Juliette wrote in pressing terms:

Dear Madam, I am a very old woman – 85 years old – but I want to save Egypt before dying. I wish to see it free: I wish to found a newspaper. I shall need money, a great deal of money. You have certainly read my article in le Figaro. I want to write a hundred more articles in a newspaper of my own, edited by myself, Madam, in the name of my friend Umar. Two women must liberate Egypt – you and I. I have an admirable reputation and you must look out for the Egyptian patriots.⁶

Friendship and common interests would later lead Huda to the Abbaye de Gif, as Juliette became fragile in her old age and found it difficult to undertake long journeys. On the basis of the memory of their loved ones and a natural inclination to serve the same ideals, the two women developed a friendship that death alone would interrupt.

From 1919 until Ali’s death in 1922, Huda had tended to involve herself more in politics than in feminism or social work. After Ali’s death, Huda was kept abreast of the inside story of political developments in Egypt by Ali’s closest friends, including Ali Alluba, Muhammad Husain Haikal, Abd al-Rahman Fahmi and Muhammad Mahmud. In the weeks after Ali’s death, events moved rapidly. The clash between Zaghlul and Yakan over how to negotiate with the British had resulted in a split in the ranks of the Wafd party. One faction continued to support Zaghlul, while other Wafd members followed Yakan into the new Liberal Constitutionalist Party he formed when Tharwat took over and he went into opposition. The primary concern of this latter group was to draft a constitution for Egypt and to militate for constitutional government. Ali’s friends now for the most part became members of Yakan’s new party. Soon a bitter struggle was to begin, in which these more cautious former nationalist politicians opposed Zaghlul, whose popular support in Egypt continued to be vast and enthusiastic. Huda was torn between the two positions. She made a further intervention in politics from her position as chair of the Central Committee of Wafdist Women, publishing a letter in the press that was deeply critical of aspects of the British declaration of 28 February 1922 negotiated by Tharwat, effectively ending the protectorate. In particular, her wrath was aroused by the reservations expressed by Britain, which included the clear intention to retain in British hands responsibility for defence and to continue to protect as they saw fit foreign interests in Egypt, as well as to administer the Sudan. In the course of a lengthy and impassioned letter to the press, she wrote,

We have heard that a government will be formed. It is astonishing that an Egyptian patriot might agree to take upon himself the position of prime minister at this most difficult moment for our defeated country; if indeed it is true that there exists a man in Egypt who would agree to be a tool in the hands of the British for the execution of this death sentence pronounced against the country where he was born and fed, and where he drank the waters of the Nile.⁷

She also sent Tharwat a letter, on behalf of the Wafdist Women’s Central Committee, attacking his Government’s repression of popular protest against Britain’s intentions. On behalf of the women’s movement, she threatened that she would herself be willing to stand at the forefront of riots against his administration: ‘The prisons are now full of Egypt’s innocent sons, the land is soaked in the blood of its martyrs, their mothers’ eyes are sore and their widows and orphans are broken hearted. Do you still believe that you are acting to fulfil the nation’s hopes, or is some force driving you to act contrary to truth and justice?’⁸

Despite the temptation to continue her struggle in the political arena after Ali’s death, however, Huda soon judged it more expedient to return to her former field of action in social activity. Rather than attempting to take part in the political development of the new Liberal Constitutionalist movement, she turned her attention elsewhere. Nevertheless, she was still able to count on the support of her husband’s influential friends for her initiatives on social issues.

The year 1922 marked an important turning point for Huda. This was when it could be said that she began in earnest to promote the feminist cause. As long before as 1920, Huda had been contacted by the London-based International Woman Suffrage Alliance (IWSA), founded in 1904 by an American woman, Carrie Chapman Catt. With Ali’s approval, she had accepted an invitation to the organisation’s congress in Geneva that unfortunately she had not in the end been able to attend. Other women she had asked to come with her had failed to persuade their husbands to allow them to travel alone. In addition, the Wafd was still in Paris, though Ali had already returned to Cairo, and Huda, still a passionate Wafdist, did not want to leave Egypt while there still might be dramatic developments. She was very interested in the world women’s organisation, however, and began to think more widely about Egypt’s possible involvement in such a project.

The remit of the IWSA was to advocate the extension of the right to vote to women, and to extend its scrutiny over gender issues on a global scale, and the women who ran it wanted an Egyptian organisation to be affiliated to their global network. Chapman Catt had met Egyptian women campaigners during a pre-war visit to Cairo, and her hope was that Huda would have the potential to bring such an organisation into being. At the time, however, Huda had not previously given consideration to anything of this kind, and there was no precedent in Egypt. Despite her personal commitment to political issues, charity had hitherto been the focus of the upper- and middle-class women’s groups with which she had been associated. In the wake of the First World War, however, national organisations advocating women’s rights were being founded in all the countries of the Western world. Women had taken much responsibility in Western countries in the absence of the men during the war, and now began to demand recognition of their skills and civil rights. There was also a general call for masculine solidarity with the women’s aspirations.

Huda had much experience of setting up women’s organisations of a charitable and social type. In 1914, she had played her part in setting up the intellectual society for women sponsored by Princess Amina Halim. This association, with a strictly female membership, held lectures on art, science, literature, history and archaeology, among other subjects, and sponsored musical evenings. During the war, however, the society had fallen into abeyance. The founder of the Egyptian Woman’s Magazine (Majallat al-Mar’a al-Misria), Balsam Abd al-Malik, suggested to Huda that a new society could be formed under the umbrella of the New Woman Association (Jami’at al-Mar’a al-Jadida) that had been set up in 1919. In February 1920, Huda held a bazaar to collect funds for the project. The new association thus raised almost four thousand pounds. Of this, members of the royal family contributed almost a thousand pounds, while other major donations amounted to some 910 pounds. Huda discussed the project with Ali, despite their estrangement, and he added a personal donation of 1000 pounds.

On 22 April 1920, Huda held a gathering of those interested at her house. The first task was to find premises for the new association, where the intention was that there would also be a cultural club for Egyptian women where various activities could be undertaken, together with a library available to women. Huda became honorary president, while Amina Sidqi and Jamila Attia took charge of the day-to-day administration. Balsam Abd al-Malik published the accounts of the new association in her magazine. The association retained the name al-Mar’a al-Jadida (the New Woman). Its programme of activities got under way at once, and it flourished.⁹

The subsequent creation of the Egyptian Feminist Union (EFU) in 1923 was a milestone in Huda’s life and in Egyptian history. The spur was a further invitation from the IWSA in February 1923 to attend the international organisation’s Ninth Congress, held on this occasion in Rome. The initial letter of invitation was sent on 7 February 1923 by Chrystal Macmillan, the Scottish vice-president. The congress was to be held between 12 and 19 May 1923, and the affiliation of the Egyptian movement would be top of the agenda. On 14 February, Huda wrote to the Prime Minister, Muhammad Tawfiq Nessim Pasha, who had taken office in November 1922, formally requesting permission for a delegation of women to attend as Egyptian representatives. His response was that once an organisation was set up he would give his blessing.

On 16 March 1923, Huda invited her colleagues from the Wafdist Women’s Central Committee, from the Muhammad Ali dispensary (the Mabarra) and from the New Woman group to a meeting in the great reception room at 2 Qasr al-Nil Street to set up the Permanent Committee of Egyptian Women, which would be charged with framing a constitution for a women’s organisation to be known as the Egyptian Feminist Union. Huda was elected chair, with Sherifa Riad as her deputy, Attia Fuad as treasurer, and Ihsan Ahmad as secretary. Other women elected to serve on the committee included Céza Nabarawi and Nabawiya Musa, a prominent intellectual and noted feminist activist. All were old friends of Huda who had participated in the women’s activities during and after the 1919 riots. Premises were found for the EFU, and formal permission was sought from the Egyptian Government for the women to represent Egypt at the congress in Rome once the members making up the delegation were selected and appointed.

The EFU board (Céza, Huda, Mary Kahil, Regina Khayat, Inayat Sultan, Sherifa Riad).

The new Prime Minister, Yehia Ibrahim Pasha, who had come to power on 15 March, immediately gave his permission, and it was agreed that Huda would go to Rome accompanied by Céza Nabarawi and Nabawiya Musa, her two most articulate colleagues. Both were unmarried, and therefore needed no personal permission to travel. Céza had grown into a gifted writer with a strong personality, qualified by her Western education to engage in dialogue with Western women, while Nabawiya was a powerful intellect, an assiduous scholar, and accomplished in Arabic. Huda was fascinated by the international character of the IWSA. The organisation’s offices were in London, but Carrie Chapman Catt was based in New York. The four vice presidents were French, Scottish, German and Swedish. Huda sensed at once that this would be a useful and influential platform from which to promote Egypt’s interests.

On 6 May, the three women arrived in Brindisi on board the SS Helwan from Alexandria. A group of Italian students were there to welcome them and take them to Rome. On 7 May, Chrystal Macmillan met them in Rome, and they gave the IWSA executive committee their draft project for the establishment of an affiliated Egyptian organisation. When they discovered there was no Egyptian flag among the flags flown in the conference hall, they asked Yusuf Kamil, a young Egyptian painter for whose studies in Rome Huda was paying, to recreate for the occasion a flag like the one carried by the women in their 1919 demonstration. The three of them stitched the flag with their own hands, and it was flown at the opening session, with its white crescent and crosses against a green background, replacing the stars of the national flag. As a special ecumenical and feminist flag devised by the women’s groups, it caused a quiver of concern to the conference organisers until they were sure there would be no formal Egyptian objection. As the congress got under way, the three newcomers from Egypt saw that, for them, it would serve as a workshop where they could learn about the international women’s movement and acquire useful information. On Saturday 12 May, for example, the proceedings were split into four committees that were to discuss equality in wages and employment, the married woman’s nationality, unity, and the legal situation of women, all issues of crucial concern in Egypt.¹⁰

Some two thousand women participated in the congress. Benito Mussolini, then Prime Minister of Italy, came to the opening ceremony with three of his ministers. Mussolini was welcomed to the hall by the Italian delegates, Margherita Ancona from Milan and Alice Schiavoni-Bosio, a well-known Italian feminist and president of the Roman Comitato Centrale della Federazione Nazionale Pro-Suffragio Femminile. He was greeted with enthusiastic applause by the assembled delegates. Mussolini said in his speech that the Italian Government intended to give careful study to the issue of women’s suffrage. However, he went on to make remarks less welcome to his audience in relation to what he described as women’s duties and activities in the household and the primary importance of such activities in the life of women and in society.¹¹

Chapman Catt placed Huda at her right hand on the platform, and in her presidential address she introduced her to the other delegations. It gave her great pleasure, she said, to introduce a newcomer, the leader of the delegation of Egypt, a country known for its ancient civilisation and glorious history. The three Egyptian delegates were given a warm welcome. They were asked many questions about their specially designed flag with the white crescent and crosses. They explained the symbolism of the cross and the crescent, and that the Coptic and Muslim communities stood side by side in the struggle to free Egypt from British occupation. The hearing they received was sympathetic. Huda and Céza made many important contacts, including Romania’s Princess Alexandrina Cantacuzino, the Romanian delegate and later one of the prime movers of the International Council of Women, with whom Huda was to stay in touch for the rest of her life.

The streets of Rome were thronged with the women delegates, who had flocked in from all parts of the world, many clad in their traditional native clothes. The exotic Asian and African women, with their saris and flowing robes, were at the centre of attention.¹² The Italian press was ecstatic. It was a surprise to the Italians to discover that these Japanese, Chinese, Indian and Egyptian women, who came from distant lands and different cultures, were for the most part journalists, lawyers, politicians and university graduates. Huda and Céza wore Western clothes and spoke perfect French. They conceded in interviews that Egyptian women did not yet have the right to vote, but pointed out that neither did the women of such an advanced country as France. When political rights were restored in Egypt, they wished them to be extended to women as well as to men. Questioned about polygamy, they explained that it was not yet forbidden, but had ceased to be the custom. Ester Lombardo, an Italian journalist who wrote for the daily Giornale di Roma, exclaimed that for her to have the opportunity to meet sisters from distant continents was sufficient justification in itself for holding the congress, as ‘no amount of travel and no new discovery in the world could equal the voyage of the soul.’¹³

The decision by Huda and Céza to remove their veils when they returned to Cairo sprang naturally from their experience in Rome. During the proceedings at the congress, the three women had uncovered their faces, having discovered that a veiled face was an obstacle to communication and therefore diminished the effectiveness of their work. Nabawiya Musa set off for Egypt first, in order to prepare a reception for the other two, while Huda and Céza travelled home together. During the homeward journey, when the issue of the veil arose, Céza insisted that she would henceforth remain unveiled. Huda had promised in the past that she would remove the veil when the time was ripe. This seemed the appropriate moment. They had appeared with uncovered faces before everyone at the congress, and it followed that they should go home proudly with their faces equally uncovered. Not to do so, they said to each other, would be hypocritical. The argument sounded convincing and logical. Huda, however, still felt she had to reassure herself that she would not jeopardise her daughter’s social life or her marriage by taking such a revolutionary step.

The ship arrived in Alexandria on 28 May 1923. Mahmud Sami, Huda’s son-in-law, had come to Alexandria to welcome her home, and when he came on board she discussed with him her plan to unveil, in order to reassure herself that he would not be scandalised. She was delighted to find that he approved of her plan. He told her that his view was that the time had come for such a gesture to be made in Egypt. Huda’s flawless reputation, he said, would lend legitimacy to her gesture. Nabawiya Musa had organised coverage of the two women’s return in order to make it a media event and gain the maximum publicity. A correspondent from Al-Ahram newspaper met them in Alexandria and accompanied them on the train to Cairo. At Cairo Station they descended from the train with their faces uncovered. They were met by a moment of stunned silence, following which all the women of their circle who were waiting to welcome them also removed their veils. The scene was magnificent, and was always recounted with enthusiasm in later days by those who had attended it.

Once Huda and her associates were back in Cairo, the next task was to put the newly formed Egyptian Feminist Union on a firm financial footing. An inaugural charity ball to raise funds for the EFU and the Al-Mar’a al-Jadida had already been held in their absence at the Ezbekieh Garden on 16 May 1923. The garden, with its stately white marble fountain, wooden gazebos and lush vegetation, was a beautiful setting for any kind of social event, and the pleasant May weather in Cairo that year contributed to attracting a large and fashionable crowd. Such charity events were a highly effective way of raising funds for organisations from the Egyptian moneyed classes. Feminism had evidently become such a cause. Its moment had come. This initial event paved the way for what would in due course become systematic fundraising in Egyptian high society.

As Huda’s professional plans blossomed, she was upset by a personal upheaval. Disaster struck her Fahmi cousins when Ali Kamil Fahmi was murdered in London on 1 July 1923. Munira Sabri, his mother, had passed away in 1916, predeceased by his father Ali, who left a vast fortune. At the age of 20, Ali Kamil had inherited much of his father’s money. He was not unmindful of his family duties, and built a hospital and a school in Maghagha, near Minya, where the family estates were, in addition to funding scholarships for students from his father’s home village. However, he was fundamentally irresponsible in his attitude to his wealth. He was easily led, and fell victim to unsuitable companions who encouraged him to lead a life that was enormously extravagant. His generosity and his lavish lifestyle led him to be known as ‘Prince’ Ali Fahmi. His vanity led him to do little to discourage the impression in European countries that he truly held the title of prince, and that was how Western newspapers usually referred to him.

He was still only 22 years old in 1922, when he fell in love with a French adventuress of dubious reputation, whom he had met in Cairo. This was Marguerite Laurent Meller, the daughter of a Paris taxi driver, who was some ten years Ali’s senior. The couple had married on 27 December 1922. She was already twice a widow, and was reputed to have stabbed to death her second husband, the father of her daughter, in the course of a quarrel. Ali was besotted, and she had in any case concealed her past from him. He had showered her with jewels, which she sold. The marriage degenerated into a series of degrading quarrels. The young man attempted to control his wife, then, having failed, he planned to take back his gifts and repudiate her. For the time being, however, he did nothing, which proved a mistake.¹⁴

Six months later, staying at the Savoy Hotel in London, Meller shot Ali with a pistol they illegally kept in their room, firing three shots into his head from behind as his attention was distracted by a pet dog. When the case came to court, she was defended by the celebrated British barrister Sir Edward Marshall Hall. He cast terrible aspersions on Ali, and reviled the institution of marriage as practiced in Egypt, denigrating Egyptian customs and manners in general, and presenting Meller as an innocent European victim of what he defined as oriental maltreatment. Balsam Abd al-Malik reported the case in her magazine,¹⁵ and Huda, on behalf of the Wafdist Women’s Central Committee, sent a telegram of protest to the British Government:

The Central Committee of Wafdist women deplores, on behalf of all the women of Egypt, the odious and false accusations directed by Mrs Marguerite Fahmi’s lawyers and by most of the English newspapers, against all Easterners and against Egyptian men in particular. The women of Egypt believe that this is nothing but a premeditated attack on Egypt and a new kind of propaganda which, by defaming the Egyptian people, can justify the policies enforced by the British occupation. Seeing that such accusations represent the lowest kind of aggression, it is regrettable that the arguments of the defence should have been directed against a whole nation, especially in a Court of Justice, which ought to rise above hatred and refrain from making any aberrant accusations, thus violating the law.

As the Ali Fahmi trial took its course in London, Huda received reports from Bassna, who was attending the hearings with Mahmud Sami. As an Egyptian diplomat resident in London, he had been delegated to follow the case. Bassna was reticent in her account, however, as she found it hard to talk about such unpleasant events. She did, however, tell Huda about the intervention of a young lawyer, Odette Simon, who had volunteered as a French interpreter to the court. Bassna sought out Odette and befriended her, admiring her courage in choosing law as her profession at a time when there were relatively few women lawyers. As the distasteful proceedings continued, Huda could see that Bassna missed her mother’s presence, despite the support she drew from her husband. Bassna’s affection for her mother came through clearly in her letters, never failing to address her with such special family endearments as ‘Ma petite maman chérie’.

In Egypt, meanwhile, major political developments were under way. Nessim Pasha resigned as Prime Minister on 5 February 1923 after British pressure on him not to insist on Egypt’s rights in Sudan. Lord Allenby, the British High Commissioner, arrested many Wafdists and sealed Zaghlul’s house, the Bait al-Umma, preventing it from being used as the Wafd’s headquarters by Zaghlul’s supporters. All this suddenly went into reverse, however, when Yehia Pasha was appointed Prime Minister on 15 March. Yehia obtained Zaghlul’s release from exile in the Seychelles, and the British also allowed other political prisoners to be freed. The new constitution was proclaimed on 19 April 1923, and an electoral law providing for manhood suffrage was passed on 30 April. Zaghlul would eventually return to the country in September, when he judged the time was ripe to begin his own campaign to seek election as prime minister.

Other surprises and disappointments were in store in Huda’s personal life. In the summer of 1923, putting the bad memories of the Fahmi case behind her, Huda and her son Muhammad visited Paris together. Each was planning an onward journey. Huda intended to go to the Abbaye de Gif to see Juliette Adam, who was mourning the death of Pierre Loti. She had taken up the habit of visiting her ageing friend at the Abbaye, with which by this time she was well acquainted. After this particular visit, in a letter dated 17 October 1923, Juliette wrote,

I can still see you on my terrace, talking about our dear Egypt. I recall the summer days when I talked about this same Egypt with Mustapha and Umar. They were the leaders of the future, just as you are fighting for this future. Remember, Egyptian women, your great Queens whose reigns were not inferior to those of your Kings, but such equality must not be masculine. Go on being wives, go on being mothers, aspire to the great role of advisors and, at this point in time, when the great future of ancient Egypt is perhaps at stake, be a source of inspiration for legitimate national demands. Go to the people, enlighten them if they do not know about themselves, and cause them to know their right to freedom and their national responsibility. You are the valiant one, conscious of the power of courage, the value of action. My wishes are carried to you by the Egyptian swallows, which have just left us and will bring back next year to the Abbey, where they are more numerous than elsewhere, the news of an Egypt liberated from its foreign yoke.

Muhammad’s plan, meanwhile, was to go from Paris to London to see his sister and then travel elsewhere in Europe on his own. Huda’s trip was going swimmingly. Magd al-Din Hifni Nasif, the Bahitha’s young brother, who was finishing his studies in Paris, had planned a comprehensive programme for her stay. To attract the attention of the French press to her visit, he arranged for her to visit the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, on which she laid a wreath. Then he organised a tea party in her honour for the young Egyptian students who were studying in France and Britain thanks to the scholarships she had granted them, which also served to celebrate Magd al-Din’s imminent return to Egypt, as he had just completed his degree in economics and political science. This gathering gave her an opportunity to speak to the students about events in Egypt and the situation of Egyptian women. She also wanted to talk about Islam, where she felt there needed to be more understanding between East and West in view of the appalling things that had been said at the trial of Ali Fahmi’s wife. Her intention was to explain that Islam was not responsible for the backwardness of Egyptian women. The veil was an Ottoman innovation and was imposed on the women of the upper classes of Egypt under the Ottoman Empire. It was absurd, she also wished to say, that women should be deprived of a higher education, as educated women would educate their own children, thus raising the level of the whole country.

Huda found the time she spent in Paris with Magd al-Din and Muhammad in the summer of 1923 extremely pleasant. Muhammad appeared to enjoy Paris, where he felt at home, and to be refreshed by Magd al-Din’s wit and sense of humour. He gave the appearance of being relaxed and happy. When he left her, intending first to visit his sister Bassna in England, Huda was quite lighthearted and confident that her own journey would lead her, as usual, towards interesting people and places.

In September 1923, as she returned to Egypt, Huda had the great surprise of bumping into Saad and Safia Zaghlul aboard the ship, as he at last made his own journey back to Egypt. He had been transferred from his place of exile in the Seychelles to Gibraltar, and though free since March had remained abroad, directing the Wafd from outside the country. At first, Huda, Saad and Safia spent much time together on deck, in the salons and in the dining room, exchanging ideas. Saad expressed his admiration for her decision earlier in the year to remove the veil. He said his opinion was that his wife should do the same. He asked Huda to show Safia how to readjust the veil in order to bare her face. They both told Huda about their difficult time in the Seychelles, where their life had been made comfortable but where it had also been frustrating to be separated from their friends and their home. Her presence on the ship, they said, made them feel closer to Egypt. She, in turn, told them about her activities with the IWSA, the EFU, the Arts Society about her projects for a pottery factory in Rod al-Farag and a carpet workshop at the EFU. There was indeed a revival in Egypt, she added, which had originated with its cultural awakening.

Saad had heard about Huda’s criticism of his Wafdist colleagues. He was aware that Muhammad Tawfiq Nessim Pasha, Tharwat’s successor as Prime Minister, had irked Huda when he gave in to the British Government’s demand that the Egyptian monarch’s constitutional title should now be ‘King of Egypt’ rather than ‘King of Egypt and the Sudan’. Further demonstrations had resulted in the closure of Saad’s house, the Bait al-Umma, which had become a focal point for the Wafd, and the arrest of several activists. What the Egyptian street wanted now was Saad Zaghlul in power at any price, irrespective of policies, and Saad seemed to think it was more important that he should take power than that he should stick to his principles, even if he had to accept the concessions that Nessim had made. Saad seemed unduly anxious about what had befallen his house, and also pumped Huda for information about what support he could expect from members of his party. Sensing a return of what she regarded as his egotistical approach, Huda reproached him for what she told him was his excessive concern for his own future. Zaghlul was annoyed by Huda’s reproaches, and there began to be a difficult atmosphere between them. He spent the rest of the journey refusing to speak to her, and it was also evident that Safia was angry with her. Huda had misgivings at the time about what Safia’s future reaction to this conversation might be, and it certainly led to cooler relations.

When they came within sight of the coast, many people came out in small boats to welcome Saad, calling out his name from below the ship. In his absence, he had become a legend. Ismail Abaza Pasha, who was on his deathbed, sent a telegram out to him, asking him to let bygones be bygones and to continue to serve his country as he had in the past. Saad ran to Safia, brandishing the telegram. Huda began to realise that she was correct to harbour misgivings about what his ambitions might be. She began to wonder how the ‘Old Lion’, as Zaghlul was known in some circles, had changed during his exile.¹⁶

After all the conversation there had been between Huda and Safia about the veil, Safia was wearing hers as always when she left the ship on 19 September. When Huda expressed her astonishment at this disregard for her husband’s opinion, Safia responded, ‘My husband is not working alone, and Wasif Ghali Pasha has told me that changing my headgear might have a negative impact on the crowd that has come to welcome us.’¹⁷ Huda was perplexed by this sudden reversion to the veil, especially since it seemed to be based on the view of a Christian. She was saddened by the couple’s coldness towards her as they departed from the ship.

Two months later, on 13 November, Huda would remember the chilly farewell Saad had given her aboard ship when he failed to invite her as chair of the Wafdist Women’s Central Committee to the celebration of the Wafd’s anniversary at the Casino Cyrus. Strangely, her name was published in the reports in the newspapers as one of the guests, as though she had been there. Adding insult to injury, Saad failed in his speech to mention the important part Ali had played in the Wafd. Huda published a statement making it clear that she had not been invited to the event, and had not attended it.

Later in November 1923, Huda and her colleagues published a statement listing the nine main principles of the EFU. Its goals would be to seek to elevate the intellectual and moral standards of Egyptian women; to enable them to obtain social, political, legal and moral equality with men; and to obtain the right to higher education for girls. It would also seek a change in matrimonial customs to allow the two individuals directly concerned to meet each other before committing themselves, to alter the law on marriage to prohibit polygamy and divorce without the woman’s consent, and to raise the age for marriage to sixteen. It would promote public health and hygiene in Egypt, and discourage immorality. Finally, it would seek to publicise these principles and to win public support. The principles reflected those previously formulated by Malak Hifni Nasif.

Meanwhile, the EFU continued to work towards the establishment for itself of a firm financial base. The committee invited influential and wealthy individuals who were sympathetic to its principles to become members of an honorary board of trustees. Income was to come from grants, individual contributions and members’ subscriptions. The EFU’s committee invited a large assembly of women to attend a meeting at the Egyptian University Hall to explain the IWSA’s programme. The committee formulated two immediate practical proposals, which they asked the Government to incorporate forthwith into Egyptian law. One of these was the prohibition of marriage for girls under sixteen, the other was the institution of gender equality in all branches and at all levels of education.

A small EFU delegation was received by the Prime Minister, Yehia Ibrahim Pasha, who expressed admiration for the women’s movement and promised that their demands would be given serious consideration by the Council of Ministers.¹⁸ He was as good as his word, in fact, for five months later the law fixing a minimum marital age for girls was enacted. On 6 December 1923, fearing for the fate of their other demand, the Wafdist Women’s Central Committee asked the Government to state explicitly what its legislative programme was to be, since the women feared disappointment. Change on the political front was imminent, however, and forestalled any response there might have been.