Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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The Citadel, which is the mosque of Mohammed Aly, has two thin tall minarets which can be seen for miles, when they are lit up with a circle of lights at the big feast of Ramedan. The mosque is magnificent, and the whole floor is covered with one tremendous carpet. We, the infidels, cannot go into the mosque unless our shoes are covered in sheepskin slippers. Mohammed Aly the Great, the founder of the present dynasty, built his palaces at the top of the Mokkattam Hills, and the whole place is known as the Citadel. The British since they occupied Egypt have used the Citadel partly as a barracks and partly as a detention place for soldiers serving sentences for any crime. The actual living quarters, or palace, now serving only as show pieces for tourists, are very shabby and dilapidated, but the Mameluke ' s Leap is still the same as it was in 1811, when the Mamelukes tried to escape from their Turkish murderers. They jumped over the steep side of the cliflf, but they and their horses were killed. I can also see the Pyramids of Ghizeh, a truly wondrous sight, which has been described by better writers than I. The Sphinx with her battered nose cannot be seen properly, because since 1939 she has been covered with sand bags to protect her against air-raids. From my balcony I can see the sun shining on the broad, deep, grey water of the Nile as it flows down on its journey from Abyssinia. There are houseboats moored along the edges, and lovely houses along its banks, as well as the big Kasr el Aini Hospital gleaming white and red, the unpretentious British Embassy in Garden City, and the Semiramis Hotel, scene of bygone splendour (at present used as British Army Head- quarters, and smelling of disinfectant). Sacred ibis, flying to roost on the trees along the banks of this river, make the trees look white. What a view! What strange sight, sounds, and smells! I look back upon those days and think, What an education I got from you, my old balcony! Thank you! Ruth Woodman, Form IVb, Fairley House. DOW THE LANE Down the lane I wander; Bushes line the sides; Roses, and honeysuckle Nod in the breeze that glides Down from the heathered hills, Down from the mountains blue. Hiding amongst the sinking clouds, Then bursting out at you. Down the lane I wander; The sun shines on my head; I pick a strawberry sometimes. Rich, and ripe, and red. I see a lake below me, A white-sailed sailboat too; On the shore an aged fisherman. Sits with cap askew. Down the lane I wander. Above me a robin sings. Flitting around in the tree tops; And now a churchbell rings. But the sun is fast in setting. The sky burns red, then dark ; And all must home to bed and sleep — To hear the first note of the lark. Barbara Henshaw, Form Va, Gumming House. [25]

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SUSPENSE The clock ticked on witJi ominous sound; She heard outside a yowling hound; The end was drawing near. Her brow was wet; she held her breath; The room was quiet, quiet as death. Her hands were cold; her eyes did blur, She wished to move, but dared not stir. Then all at once, in a voice so thin. The dread call came, Please go right in; Your turn, the dentist ' s here . HE BALCONY of our house in Cairo was long — the whole length of seven rooms Jl of the apartment. On a cool morning in spring, I would stand on this balcony and look across at one famous historic place after another. To the north lies Heliopolis, the City of the Sun. This used to be an oasis in the desert, and was bought by a Belgian baron who built many beautiful houses, until today Heliopolis is a lovely city, with gardens, clubs, cinemas, and swimming pools. Forming a semi-circle around Cairo are the Mokkattam Hills which literally divide the desert from the sown . On one side is barren land with miles and miles of sand, and on the other, the River Nile. Sometimes the sand from the hills is blown into your house and gets into everything. A sandstorm is a dreadful thing. The Monastery, which I can see as well, is one of the little-known beauty spots of Cairo. To get to it you must go through the dirtiest and noisiest part of the city. Tram cars clang, little ragamuffins jump on your car, and old people get in your way and are nearly run over. There are donkey carts, with the drivers cursing and swearing, and games of football going on in the middle of the main street, while the klaxon of your own car is continually blowing. Then turning round a narrow corner, you see a garden hanging on the face of the Mokkattam Hills. You climb one hundred steps and come to a big wooden door. Your knock is answered almost immediately, because the monks have watched you coming up. Greetings, greetings, my ladies and gentlemen. The blessing of Allah be upon you. These are Albanian monks of the Moslem faith, but they are a celibate sect. This is unusual, as the Moslems do not believe in celibacy. Peace, unbelievable peace, reigns at this four hundred year old monastery. Everything is so quiet, you can hardly believe that you are near the noisiest part of Cairo. The monks speak Greek, Turkish, and Arabic. As they depend on charity for their living, we used always to take them a small hamper of provisions, as well as leaving a little gift on the old Bishop ' s table. The mosque of the monastery is very unusual. It is in a deep cave, which also serves as the burying place of the monks. One part of the monastery caves was used by Napoleon ' s army as a powder dump. Evidently an explosion look |)lace llien , forming a huge hole through which you get a most beautiful view of nearly all (]airo. [24]

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THE TOY SHOP WINDOW GROUP of cold, shivering people had gatliered outside a small toy shop on a raw, 1 Vwet morning. At a glance, one could not tell what the centre of interest was, hut on looking closer, it appeared that something had broken the window of the shop. A delivery boy sauntered up, mildly interested. What was it, mister? he inquired of a bystander. Oh, a car, laddie. It slipped and smashed the window. Nobody hurt, fortunately, he answered good-naturedly. The people began to move off, having satisfied their curiosity. Two people remain- ed, a young man and woman, apparently husband and wife. Well, Jean, said he, that is the end of that window; I am afraid we shall have to buy another, for our shop ' s wort h nothing without a window. Fortunately, we ' ve enough money. What ' s wrong? Don ' t you want to spend money on another window? Oh yes! We must have a new window, Jock. But I hate to see that window gone. It has been here for so long; I ' m sure the shop won ' t ever be the same, she said sadly. Silly! All windows are the same! You ' re right about it having been in a long time ! It has lasted remarkably well, I must say, he answered. The two entered the shop to clean up the debris. In a little while the young woman sat up and thoughtfully regarded the shop with its broken window. Jock was right; the window had lasted a remarkably long time. Jean remembered the first time she had seen the window. She had just finished school and was looking for a job. She had got it here at the toy shop. She had liked old Mr. Murray, Jock ' s father; she had liked Jock and his sister Lorna. But Jock and Lorna weren ' t helping in the shop much; he was at college and she was married. Within a year ' s time she had found a better position at a large store, and being ambitious, she took it. Mr. Murray had said he could get another girl to work. A few months brought about great changes. Old Mr. Murray died. Jock left college to keep up the shop, but in a little while he sold it, and signed up in the navy. Lorna couldn ' t keep the shop; she had her children to look after; but nobody had told Jean about any of this, and she continued working in a large store, for a good salary. Then came worse times for her. The shop in which she was working did not need her, so she was out of work, but had enough money. She revisited the old toy shop, expecting to find it as usual, but the window was dusty and grimy, and to her surprise, there was a large FOR SALE sign displayed. She entered, using her old key, and set about putting the place to rights. Soon afterward, she bought the shop and by hard work and careful saving, managed to make it pay. Then Jock returned, and naturally visited the old shop to see how it was going, and to see if it was for sale, for he thought he might buy it again and set up the trade his father had started — making and selling toys. He was surprised and happy to find the window clean and shining, some toys on display, and, wonder of wonders — Jean behind llio counter. She told him that she had hired a man to make the toys, and the business was going very well. Another year passed, and more changes took place. Jock wasn ' t in the Navy any- more; he had n sigiUMl and he and Joan were married. The business was fine; the shop [26]