13

The UNGA divides Palestine

After the war, there was a final quarrel between Muhammad and Huda which resulted in his refusal ever to see her again. In the summer of 1946, he had taken Munira and the children away to the Lebanese mountains. Hafiza, the Sudanese nanny, came with them, as well as Salih the Nubian servant, and Georgette, so that the household that surrounded Mimi in Minya was almost complete. Mimi understandably hoped that this was to be the beginning of a happier time, but Muhammad was in a strange mood. He was cold and seemed not to want to see her. Then he suddenly declared that he had decided to return to Cairo alone before the planned end of the holiday. She pleaded to go with him, and wept. She said she would follow him in any case, but he would not hear of it, and threatened to divorce her if she dared to disobey him. He returned to Cairo alone, and when he communicated with her again it was to tell her he wanted a divorce.

Soon afterwards, he went privately to see Huda in her apartment to inform her that he intended to repudiate his wife, the mother of seven of his children, because he loved another woman whom he described as a younger woman of his own choice, and whom he would never give up. Huda lost all control over herself. She could not believe that Muhammad would abandon his wife and family, apparently for another woman. She screamed at him, called him names and slapped his face. He left her, and she never saw him again. When Huda calmed down, her feelings were all for her daughter-in-law. She realised that Munira had been treated very unfairly, unloved and saddled with children. She had been both used and abused. Muhammad apparently resented her for her very patience and forbearance. Huda knew that the marriage could no longer be saved, and did the only thing she could do under the circumstances. She welcomed Mimi into her circle of feminist activists and asked her to run the EFU Social Club.

Huda was saved from despair by the fourteenth congress of the IAW in Interlaken, Switzerland, which took her mind off her family problems. Though she did not yet know it, this was to be her last journey. The congress took place on 11 August 1946, and Huda was accompanied by her most efficient assistants and representatives. These naturally included Céza, who was now divorced from Mustafa Naguib, and on this occasion, as she often did, she took her little girl, Huda, with her. Another of her closest aides was Ismat Asim, who was strongly committed to feminist causes. There were also young newcomers to the world of international conferences, such as Munira Salih Harb and Qut al-Qulub Mahir. Only 18 countries were represented at this gathering, and Huda was the sole delegate from the Middle East, officially representing Palestine, Syria and Lebanon as well as Egypt. In addition to Switzerland, the other participating countries were England and the United States; Austria, France, Italy, Greece and the Netherlands, representing continental Europe; the antipodean countries, Australia and New Zealand; and the Scandinavian states of Sweden, Norway and Denmark. There was also a Jewish delegation from Palestine. Huda had originally offered to host the gathering in Egypt, but the IAW officials had preferred Switzerland as the sole country in Western Europe that had not been devastated by the war, which was also, as it happened, a country where women had not yet obtained their political rights, so that there was local lobbying to be done.

Huda made the journey to Interlaken, despite the pain and difficulty it cost her, because she believed in the effectiveness of face-to-face meetings and because of her responsibility for the other countries that she would represent in addition to Egypt. She also went because Margery Corbett-Ashby and some of her other friends from the IAW were to be there. She had visited Switzerland with Ali in the distant past, and then at other times over the years, and was well acquainted with the country. Interlaken offered a fine setting, not least because of the beauty of the Swiss landscape. During the proceedings, the discussion focused on the familiar feminist themes that had gradually been identified and developed in the West over the years. The war and its hardships had brought some setbacks in fields where progress had previously been made, and prostitution was once more placed on the agenda as a central concern. The subject of the fate of displaced persons, especially Jews, was also of concern for the Europeans, and international migration was another source of anxiety. In the minds of the Egyptians, migration was certainly a problem in the Middle East, where a whole population of Palestinians was being dispossessed of its country.

It was as usual a source of great joy to meet Corbett-Ashby. The two women chatted together for hours. There was so much to share, and so much evil and violence to assuage through their mutual expression of friendship and generosity. However, Huda discovered that Corbett-Ashby had decided to leave the IAW in order to dedicate herself to reinforcing feminism in her own country. There was still a lot to do in Britain, she explained. Meanwhile, feminist efforts on the international scene were increasingly running foul of the national politics of different countries, and seemed fated to encounter fruitless complications. The incoming President was a Swedish woman called Hanna Rydh,¹ whom Corbett-Ashby introduced while taking her leave. Huda invited Rydh to visit her in Egypt during a forthcoming tour of the Middle East she had already planned, and began at once to work with her. She envied Corbett-Ashby for her bold decision to withdraw. Huda knew that after this meeting she would probably never see her again.

Huda had begun to feel she herself was now living on borrowed time because of the weakness of her heart. The heaviness in her chest now sometimes seemed to stifle her, and she felt that she could not breathe. She had also begun to feel pains in her arms and shoulders. She often thought about an Arabic poem which she had written about her own death that she wanted to be displayed in the mausoleum she had already built for herself in Minya. She knew that she would soon be unable to travel abroad again. However, once back in Cairo, she compensated by placing more responsibility on the shoulders of her young assistants, sending them on her behalf to represent the EFU at the international events to which she was invited. She was comforted that she could feel secure in sending her fearless young disciples to far-off countries to deputise for her. She sent Ismat Asim to Geneva, and Amina al-Said, who was increasingly active in the movement, to Hyderabad. She knew these young women were staunch feminists and that they would also defend the Arab cause.

On 11 February 1947, King Farouk repudiated Queen Farida, and Huda, angered by what she considered unacceptable behaviour on the part of a King, sent back to the Palace the decoration he had given her. On 31 March, however, she nevertheless took great pleasure in watching him raise his country’s flag above the British barracks at Qasr al-Nil, where the British flag had flown for 65 years. She was gratified to have seen this with her own eyes, after all the years of struggle. King Farouk attended the ceremony in person, and Huda watched from her terrace in Qasr al-Nil Street, across the square, laughing joyfully as her grandchildren pushed and pulled each other, struggling over who would be first to raise the flag on the terrace of the Maison de L’Égyptienne.

Meanwhile, Huria’s husband Hasan Shafik, the young diplomat from Istanbul, had been seconded to the service of the Royal Palace by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs after the war, where his task was to report on the situation in Palestine on the situation there. His reports, some of which she had read, were perceptive and to the point. In March 1947, Huria came to see her, and Huda took great pleasure in her visit. There was still huge affection between them. Huda put her guest in one of the rooms next to her own, decorated with tapestries from Bukhara, with its own inner wooden staircase, leading up to a small wooden platform and sleeping area, with a traditional mattress on top of a wooden bed and a chest of carved wood exuding the perfume of sandalwood. They breakfasted together in Huda’s room, and Huda was able to confide in Huria about the sad turn her own life had taken and her difficulties with her own children. When Hawa and Céza joined them upstairs in Huda’s room, the four women felt comfortable and serene together, and Huda silently recited a short prayer, placing her hand on Huria’s head, to bless her before bidding her farewell. The few days Huria would spend in Cairo were quick to pass, and Huda saw her young cousin depart with an aching heart.

The conference of the Inter-Parliamentary Union, held in Cairo in April 1947 and which Huda attended, left her aware of how exhausted she was. To leave the house each day to attend the sessions was as much as she could do. On the other hand, she had some help at home. Mimi had come back from Minya without Muhammad, and naturally continued to live in the big house with her children. Huda had left the first floor to her estranged son’s wife and children, and continued to live in her rooms on the upper floor of the mansion. As to the potential difficulty of being at the top of the house, Huda no longer had to climb any staircases thanks to the lift so presciently given to her by Charles Crane.

Haikal Pasha was responsible, in his capacity as the President of the Senate, for the organisation of the Inter-Parliamentary Union conference, and his wife Aziza helped him to receive and entertain the women. Aziza asked Mimi to work for the conference and receive guests at the airport, accompanying them to their accommodation and looking after them in case of need. At one point, Mimi crossed Huda’s path in the large mansion, and was surprised when Huda timidly asked her, ‘Why do you think they did not ask for my help?’ Mimi was astonished, and immediately tried to comfort her by saying ‘But Tante,’ which was what all the girls called her, ‘you are above the level of such simple activities and in fact what you might do, if you wish to make a gesture, is to invite all the guests to dinner in this wonderful house. Haikal Pasha would appreciate it.’ Huda obligingly gave a party for all the visiting parliamentarians, and took them on an outing to the countryside. They were in any case having a fascinating time, visiting Pharaonic, Coptic and Islamic museums and sites. But Huda had started to feel that she was losing ground, and was somehow no longer in the centre of things. Was she no longer anything more than a society hostess? she asked herself. She felt she had so little time left before the violence that was once more gaining momentum would overwhelm the post-war world.

Nuqrashi Pasha had stepped down in February 1946, and in October, after strikes and demonstrations that brought some Egyptian deaths, his successor Ismail Sidqi attempted to reach a final agreement with Britain to get British troops out of Egypt after the war, holding talks with Ernest Bevin, the British Foreign Secretary. Sidqi effectively conceded the Sudan to Britain, which the Wafd and the country could not accept, and Sidqi’s Government fell in December. Nuqrashi returned, and Huda believed that Egypt was in good hands. His courage later became evident when, as head of the Egyptian delegation to the United Nations, he decided to take Britain to task before the Security Council in August 1947. Nuqrashi took the commitment of the United Nations to justice at face value, insisting that the UN Charter entitled him to demand the withdrawal of Britain’s forces from Egypt and the renunciation of the treaty of 1936. He spoke at length, an unarmed knight facing the representatives of the great powers, stressing that the UN Charter stipulated the equality and equal treatment of all nations, regardless of their power. Nuqrashi did not mince his words.²

Huda did not travel abroad again. At the All India Congress in Delhi at the end of May 1947, Hawa and Karima al-Said represented the women of Egypt.³ She had long since begun to give Hawa particular responsibility. As long before as 1945, when the French bombarded Damascus after Syria’s demand for the end of the French occupation and the withdrawal of French forces, Huda had sent Hawa on a quite dangerous assignment, to accompany the Egyptian Red Crescent mission that went to Syria to help care for the many casualties and report back to her.⁴ Hawa was ecstatic when she returned from India, where she had spent a lot of time in Nehru’s company and with his daughter Indira. Nehru had introduced Hawa to the Mahatma, pointing out that this was one of the prettiest women attending the conference, and Gandhi, smiling, had agreed with his remark. Gandhi had apologised to Hawa for not getting up to greet her because of his age and declining health, and she had replied that she was proud to meet him standing up or sitting down, because he was a symbol of rare heroism and just struggle. Then, following Nehru’s example, she had taken off her shoes to sit on the straw mat that covered the floor of the tiny room where the Mahatma squatted, cross-legged, on the floor. She was awed by this tiny and weak man who had become one of the great legends of his time. Hawa also visited Agra and Bombay, and returned with a vision that would guide her life. She did not dream of marriage but had a vocation for militant feminism, and took a great interest in the protection and education of children.⁵

Early in 1947, Huda started a new magazine, Al-Mar’a al-Arabia. The lack of paper during the war had forced her to stop publishing L’Égyptienne in 1940 and Al-Misria shortly after that. The advent of Al-Mar’a al-Arabia heralded a more peaceful global situation, but it also addressed the very real problem of peace in the Middle East. Huda created the new magazine to inform Arab women about the resumption of feminist activities all over the world, and she judged Amina al-Said was exactly the right person for the job of editor. In May 1947, Sarojini Naidu sent Huda an invitation to attend another feminist conference in India, in the city of Hyderabad, and on this occasion Amina al-Said represented her. Huda wanted to test the mettle of the editor of her new magazine.⁶

Huda had struck up a good relationship with the Indian women who attended international feminist meetings, and insisted on playing host when she could to Indian women visiting Egypt. In the summer of 1947, on her way through the Suez Canal to represent the All India Women’s Conference at a meeting in Europe, Kamaladevi Chattopadyay, Sarojini Naidu’s sister-in-law, was met in Port Said by a group of young Wafdists who brought her to Huda’s house in Cairo. Chattopadyay reported this visit in her memoirs:

I was worn out after the stormy crossing across the Arabian sea in the early South-West monsoon. So when I landed I was allowed immediately to tumble into bed. When I woke up and looked around, I was sure I was dreaming, so I closed my eyes and dozed off again. Bright sun was pouring in when I got out of bed. No, I was not dreaming, I was wide awake but in an Arabian Nights Palace, so it seemed to me. An exquisite breakfast of sweet melon, russet red grapes, crisp melting toast, fresh dates that put me in mind of palm jaggery at home, was spread out before me. The only object that seemed real and not part of the hazy dream was my hostess sitting opposite me, solid, down to earth, in spite of her exquisitely chiseled face and statuesque figure, Madame Charaoui Pasha. With her keen sensitive nature, she had modeled her house on the traditional Arab architecture. The furniture was Syrian, with the fine lacy carved patterns. The tiniest, the most innocuous item was delicately chosen. But there was much more to learn than looking at a fancy mansion.⁷

The two women briefed each other at length about the political situation of their respective countries, and Chattopadyay talked about Gandhi, his way of life, his ideas, his asceticism and strength. It struck a chord with Huda when her Indian guest said, ‘Gandhi had touched the global nerve centre when he proclaimed that India’s freedom would mean the liberation of British colonies and by chain reaction, of other subject peoples. That the Indian struggle was crucial in a larger context…’⁸

Quite by chance, while she was entertaining her Indian colleague, Huda received a visit from the great Moroccan resistance hero, the Emir Abd al-Krim, who had struggled against France and Spain. He had then been imprisoned by France for many years on the island of Réunion, a French possession in the Indian Ocean. In May 1947, with the help of Egyptian nationalists, he had succeeded in jumping ship as a vessel carrying him back to France had passed through the Suez Canal, and had then been given asylum in Egypt. Chattopadyay described him in her memoirs:

The man who extended a hand and said welcome with a most genial smile was short, solidly built, with the kindliest bead-like eyes which as we talked began to get shot through by sharp glints like sparks of steel. There was, however, an air of benevolence about him that was accentuated by his long creamy gown which characterized the seasoned warriors from the rugged mountains of the Riff, whose valiant battles and curving fortunes had made world history. His skin, so fair and untanned, shining in its delicacy, like a flower-like sheen, seemed to belie his warlike role.⁹

A topic the two women discussed at length was the role of handicrafts. These would become the foundation of the economy of liberated peoples, and had already been the basis of the new cottage industries in India. Huda had become an expert in the field of crafts, and was able to compare notes. Chattopadyay was in Cairo for Huda’s Tuesday open house, where she talked to the guests about aspects of Gandhi’s philosophy, as opposed to Tagore’s. Tagore criticised Gandhi’s condemnation of machines, and thought they could profit men, whereas Gandhi believed that machines would lead only to the destruction of human feelings and behaviour. With the spinning wheel as his only weapon, he had led a relentless war against the British textile industry that was destroying the economy of his country. Huda was enchanted by this visit and fascinated by the discussions that took place. What she enjoyed most in the life that she had chosen for herself, aside from the satisfaction of doing good, was the gradual development of knowledge and the gradual acquisition of learning.

There eventually came the sad day when the United Nations General Assembly ruled in favour of the partition of Palestine. Abd al-Rahman Azzam Pasha represented the Arab League, while Nuqrashi represented the Egyptian Government. The lobbying had been feverish, especially on the part of the Jewish Agency members, who did everything in their power to win the votes of all the member states of the General Assembly at the United Nations, against a background of daily acts of terrorism and counter-terrorism that constantly tore at the fabric of Palestine.¹⁰ The Resolution on the Partition of Palestine was adopted by the United Nations on 29 November 1947. Huda was told that tears streamed down Nuqrashi’s face when the result of the vote was read out by the rapporteur. Nuqrashi could not hide his silent frustration and despair.

When Huda heard the news in Cairo, she felt it literally as a shock, despite the fact that she had in her heart expected this defeat. She felt instinctively that she needed to spring into action. The decision had to be revoked or the whole world would suffer for it indefinitely. There was of course nothing she could do. Nevertheless, she received visits from all her Palestinian friends, who still hoped that she could help them. She was in constant pain at that point, but was still ready to struggle, pen and paper in hand, ready to write down all the ideas that came to her mind. What she was to do, she did not know. She did know that she could not simply stand by and watch an injustice take place.

On 7 December 1947, Huda woke, as she often did, at four in the morning. The difference this time was that it was not an insomnia that nagged her, but a severe unmistakable pain from angina pectoris. This was surely a stroke, though it was mercifully brief. She went back to sleep, and woke up at seven in the morning, feeling much better. When she told Hawa about it, she wanted to call the doctors at once, but Huda refused. They would only tell her to rest, and there was no time for that. She needed every minute that remained to her. She would organise a boycott, the women would stand shoulder to shoulder with the Arab armies, she would raise funds, she would lobby. Palestine must not be divided.

The pain returned at noon, and treacherously began to escalate while she was alone, while the family was having lunch in the dining-room downstairs. She had been settled in Mimi’s room, on the first floor, because of her serious condition. She perspired and her breast heaved. When Hawa returned, she told her what she knew: ‘It’s finished, Hawa…It’s finished…’ Hawa immediately called the doctor. In a minute, all the others were upstairs. Mimi’s little girls, hidden behind a screen placed at the entrance of the room and almost climbing on each other’s backs, saw Bassna kneeling on the floor, sobbing loudly. Céza stood paralysed near Mimi, and Huda muttered again, as if she were asking a question, ‘It is over? Khalas [“finished”]?’ Hawa screamed out, ‘No, you are fine, you’ll be fine, it is nothing…’ The doctor walked into the room and gave Huda an injection. She smiled at him, ‘It is over,’ she murmured, ‘khalas.’

She seemed to recognise this last ordeal of the injection as the blow that marks the end. She had written a poem once about the relief provided by death. The storm that was raging within her seemed to be destroying the world as well as whatever remained of her body, but she believed in the survival of the soul. She was suffocating, and she thought she heard the beat of a racing horse’s hooves nearby, as if in the freedom of the mountains of the Caucasus, seemingly galloping towards her. The little girls hidden behind the screen saw her look towards the window. She raised herself on her elbow, smiled as she had never been seen to smile in her entire life, and was gone.