Safiyya alBosnawiya remembers Zahira

 Like Ships in the Night we recognized each others' lanterns .....

She was a small, though vibrant, aging lady when first we met. Just how, when and where, I no longer remember!

Her systems were not easily understood by the majority, and absolute refusal to spend one pound more than necessary, created the basis of a reputation that followed her as she criss-crossed the length and breadth of Egypt and eventually much of the world. (Generous as she was with her privy purse, thrifty was she of the public weal!)

Fastidiousness, tremendous faith, an unmitigated adoration for children and humanity as a whole, coupled with granite determination and inexhaustible compassion-became the hallmark of this candle----no, beacon----for the many who really needed her and her services.

They were difficult times, when our paths crossed, but like ships in the night, we recognized each other’s (lanterns).

Here, at last, was someone who understood me, my aims and aspirations - the majority of our co-religionists, having acquired the almost incessant ability to talk, rarely valued the artful skill of minimal verbal communication!

Perhaps this was one of the primary keys to Dr. Zahira Hafiz Abdin’s many successes with humanity; for when we talk too much, we rarely achieve.

The intentions that drove her to establish an alternative school system in Egypt were many. She was painfully aware that, while Egyptian doctors of medicine can be counted some of the very best; few chose to remain in their country of birth after graduation. Miniscule salaries and an infrastructure, which had yet to be rebuilt, greatly contributed to their speedy departure. If schools existed, where children could be mentored in the English language, they might

A Beacon in my Life….. Safiyya alBosnawiya remembers Zahira

take on a more comprehensive understanding of science subjects. If, too, their learning was grounded on a bedrock of faith and ethics, they might well be more motivated to sacrifice and service. Were this to become the case, more qualified students would qualify for entry into medical faculties; eventually producing practitioners from within sectors of Egyptian society, unreliant exclusively on salaries for survival. It may well be easier to encourage these youngsters to remain in their place of birth and serve the community more adequately.

Improvement of existing educational systems was of paramount importance, for empowerment is best achieved through the acquisition of knowledge at all levels. To ascend the ladder from the valley of poverty, rising to the plane of equilibrium and finally thrusting for a pinnacle of excellence, was the dream that Dr. Zahira held for all children, youth and humankind.

Some of them achieved this goal!

Improved health service provision was another goal she set herself, making small charges to those who could afford to contribute, while free treatment was available within the resources available to her, for those who could not pay without prejudice or discrimination.

Employment for widows and unsupported women and children was something that both hospitals and schools presented an infrastructure for; while distribution of basic necessities took place each month.

Division within humanity wounded her intensely further fuelling her drive. Yearning for people to learn in childhood, believing that once god gives the instruction to: (be) life is both important and relevant. Language, race, skin tone and geographical location are merely that no more. Things, which are common to all, should hold greater importance than those things (fewer in number) that divide. No more. Things, which are common to all, should hold greater importance than those things (fewer in number) that divide. Matters of faith are largely and primarily of a personal nature and should never be used as a political tool with which to beat each other.

On a sunny Thursday afternoon at her home in Zamalek on Mohamed Mazhar street, (June 1984 -I think it was) Dr. Zahira lent forward on her cane. Shafts of sunlight mottled the floor and fell directly across the right side of her face, producing an almost child like quality of expression in small, sharp eyes.

"Don’t follow me, dear," was the statement she thrust quietly into the silent room. She repeated the statement once more - this time turning to look directly at me.

"Why? I enquired, surprise taking over, momentarily rapid mental recall, behaving like the re-run of some past video! The "film" of constant struggle, toil and travail, etching itself on the surface of my own, personal "memory bank"!

"Why now?" I asked again, puzzled by this sudden change of heart.

"Because … if you follow me, and do what I do, "they" are sure to make your life miserable!" She said, staring straight ahead again, as if looking down a long, unending tunnel.

"They" I said – "who are "they"? Not really sure if I wanted to know.

"Why dear- they are our own people!" She continued

A Beacon in my Life….. Safiyya alBosnawiya remembers Zahira

words; they seemed a little out of context when spoken but never mind they were out! I’ve come too far; the corner has been ferried; and I don’t really feel the urge to retrace my steps at this time. "What else should I do now?" I asked as my dear companion continued to gaze into the afternoon sun as it bathed everything in the room.

"Think very carefully my dear! You cannot possibly know how desperately unhappy "they" have made me and for such a long, long time. I can no longer remember when last I felt elation." This petite, dignified powerhouse of feminine humanity, who had long since become my close friend and confidant, was at last showing me the other side of her personal coin.

In a moment or two, she shared many more thoughts, hopes, aspirations and disappointments about whom she thought "clever" in the truest of senses. With whom she was so disappointed, and why. How she sat in a conference, listening to "friends" behind her talking about her in a most unflattering manner! She so wished that it hadn’t been necessary to hear those caustic comments; but also instantly realized that he had intended her to. It was just a thing she recalled. One of many she had to take on board; to bear quietly; ever hopeful that someday it would stop!

"You have no idea what "they" are capable of!" she said, somehow feeling the need to underline the words she had already uttered.

"She’s just tired!" I thought to myself "there must be times when it all becomes a heavy load to carry."

"Shall we take some fresh lemon juice?" She asked, dragging herself away from sad thoughts and back into Thursday afternoon.

Just as suddenly, the topics regarding Sudan were eclipsed, and a more detailed deliverance followed on the functional systems of the medical faculty for girls in Dubai. Perhaps she thought, she might return to Cairo for a few days before making her annual excursion to Mecca for the (Haj) season….

A Beacon in my Life….. Safiyya alBosnawiya remembers Zahira

Although still troubled, she was by no means depressed. The concern and worry she had bypassed. Asking her Creator to sustain her through all that was her trust and amanah, became a part of each of her days.

Children were always Dr. Zahira Abdin’s investment for Egypt’s future and for her own resting-place at qiyamah. It would seem that their very thought kept her motivated and on track… I can still hear her voice gently resonate …

Dr. Zahira knew well, that anything worth having would be a struggle to establish and an even greater struggle to retain.

The story of the "runaway engineer" was entered into just to salat ul-maghrib.

Dinner on Friday would be a family affair. Would I be there? Shall I stay in Okasha Street, or travel back across the desert tonight? Decisions, decisions!

The choice to remain in the hospital would allow a good night’s sleep, so El-Dokki it was! Sleep-time was greatly reduced due to an unexpected visit from some of the foreign students at Al-Azhar. Shabbir’s wife was unwell and had begun labor prematurely. Three African students hadn’t any food left and did anyone have some sugar to spare?!

2 a.m. through with it, the opportunity to slip into unconscious oblivion for two and half-hours! Bliss!

She oversaw for a while then went in search of the German surgeon, whose husband was away at sea. Did she wish to join us for dinner? And where was the

A Beacon in my Life….. Safiyya alBosnawiya remembers Zahira

Filipino girl who helped out on the top floor? How were her studies going? Will she stay to complete?

Half an hour before jumah, four Malaysian and two Indonesian sisters arrive with their children. They are also studying within Al-Azhar. Where will the ta’leem class be on Saturday?

Back down to the second floor to see how many children are in the crèche. Someone let ustaz Ali know that there will be children arriving from Suez for sight correction. If we can’t handle it, they will be referred on.

Do I mind being responsible for transferal, as the children are familiar with me? And, perhaps I could encourage the consultant ophthalmologist to "pop into" Okasha street if he ever has time.

How many children have arrived from Sinai in varying stages of malnutrition? Is Dr. Khalid coming this weekend?

Just as Azan begins Dr. Zahira decides to go to the school to pray with the children. Will I join her now or after salat?

….. Dr. Zahira was indeed a Beacon to the many who knew her - rather more than a ray of light.

The ‘Opening Day’ of the school in 26^{th. July Street, Port Tawfiq; was one such time! It had been ‘so long in coming’! We arrived together in her car. Ever}

A Beacon in my Life….. Safiyya alBosnawiya remembers Zahira

present was the necessary supply of what she called her ‘energy’ – freshly squeezed lemons to you and I.

Gathering up thermos flasks and bundles of papers, she said, "Come along then, let’s go and do the necessary." We did – or rather – she did. With one flask of her fresh lemon juice tucked firmly under left arm, she balanced on two nondescript walking sticks and slowly propelled herself in dignified manner, across the sand that was the playground of that school. Although mobility was not at its best that day, she appeared from a distance to almost ‘glide’ across the length of the playground to be traversed. But then she always knew that her Creator would make all things possible, for as long as they needed to be so.

We left.

Zahira Hafiz Abdin loved children – any children and all children. The hospitals and schools had become extensions of herself, inextricably entwined in the fabric of everything that she was, throughout her entire life.

Before leaving the school, she still found the time and energy to look into each of the ground floor classrooms. A radiant smile was her approval of the welcoming, colourful decorations on the walls where so many would sit and ‘be taught’. There were going to be ‘different things’ happening here, she knew. Though precisely where the exciting new stimuli were coming from, no one knew at that time.

I recall the first time this wonderful woman [the personification of Hope] saw the mural on the main hall wall of the school in Port Tawfiq. It took two people almost three weeks to achieve! Sand was collected by the bucketful – 30 to be exact – and then durable glue was smeared across a wavy, three foot band at the bottom of the wall – onto which was thrown the 30 buckets of sand! That was the easy part! Sweeping up the majority that fell back to the floor was another task.

A Beacon in my Life….. Safiyya alBosnawiya remembers Zahira

This procedure was repeated four more times until the ‘sea bed’ was ready. Then the ‘creatures of the sea’ were fabricated from anything that came to hand small stones, pebbles and shells were also affixed; and a grand ‘fishing net was made from twine. Shells and flotsam threaded through it.

The day she first saw children painting on the vast expanses of white external walls on the first floor of the very same school, was something she hadn’t expected or been prepared for. Stopping abruptly, she just stood and watched until the children realised that she was behind them. They ceased their banter, put down their brushes and stood to attention like miniature soldiers. She greeted them – they responded. They fidgeted!

She singled out little Ahmed Abdul Menem (small of stature because he was a premature baby) and asked what the purpose of this artistic exercise was. He asked her if he could relate it to her in Arabic. [He thought he might fumble with his words in English] He was, at that time, just five years old.

He explained that the limitation of paper on a desk was both difficult and boring, and as long as they did their very best on the walls – and understood that periodically their creativity (necessarily) had to be erased – he felt confident that his artistic abilities had improved no end! He went on to explain that his class and one other would be painting the scenery for the end of year drama for parents, friends and governors.

This amazing woman had the tremendous ability to adapt to that in which she recognised logic. She would sanction differing methodology that improved children’s ability to achieve, as long as standards of etiquette or behaviour were not compromised. She fit very well into the title of ‘tomorrow lady’. Not literally of course, for we are all allocated tasks in life, [at whatever time, ‘we are’) but for some, it is difficult to change attitudes that have existed for so long. Dr. Zahira had no such problem.

Although referred to by some as ‘stubborn’ – I prefer to translate this aspect of her character, as absolute determination not to lose sight of her original vision – nor to be distracted from it. Remaining focused is what she achieved – almost to perfection.