***
From Na’sa’s resonant ululations, Fawziya knew immediately that the baby was a boy. ‘We’ll call him Medhat,’ she said. ‘Why Medhat, my dear?’ Na’sa asked. ‘His pa won’t allow it. Why don’t we call him Ahmed or Abdelhamed? I hear people say the best names are those where God is being worshipped or thanked.’ ‘I don’t care,’ Fawziya said. ‘We’ll call him Medhat and that’s that. The Turks call their children Medhat.’ And Na’sa understood, since in the eyes of the sons of Qassim, the Turks, whose civilization had ended a long time ago, were still renowned for their fair skin, good looks, and leadership. But Fawziya’s happiness with the baby would be only fleeting. She was so horrified when the midwife brought him in that she turned her head the other way. ‘The boy is ugly, Na’sa,’ she said
