The following are extracts translated into English; taken from a book authored by Mr. Haggag in Arabic:



Vintage Nights Of Musk



"A Palestinian friend of mine once commented to me that what had happened to his own people was probably no worse than the displacement of Nubian villagers who were exiled by the building of the High Dam, which flooded all the villages they had been inhabiting up until the mid-1960s. He was in a particularly provocative mood when he said this, and I doubt that he took his own comment too seriously. We had been talking about the extent to which the Palestinians had become a political people, and he was perhaps carried away in his desire to emphatically illustrate his people’s skill at keeping their displacement on the global stage for so many decades. . . ."



"She turned round and continued her slaughtered dance. My father came up. He stood for a moment appalled, then he rushed to my grandmother. He took her forcibly and sat her down in her seat. He sat next to her, and I sat in his place. My grandmother cursed him in Nubian. . ."

"Anxiety gnawed like a frozen blade in my heart. The experienced men offered the usual words of encouragement. "Don't worry, they are the pains of a first birth. You'll soon be a father Ibn Zibeyda." My uncle Bilal said: "Take this cigarette. Smoke it and learn patience." He leant over and whispered in my ear: "It's packed with the best bango. It’ll calm your nerves. . . ."



"Fowziyyyyaaaaaa hooi, Binyamiiiiiiin hooi, Salhaaaaaa hooi, Ibn Zibeeeeeydaaaaaa hooi. That's how we called to one another as children, boys, and girls, running over the soft glowing sand. We drew pure air into our chests and counted the colors of the magic Nile. From the top of the mountain, it wound its way into the distant blueness of the sky. Parts of it were sheets of silver reflecting the sun's rays. . ."




"Her hand was raised waving the sword, and she sang mournfully: "Raise up, O groom, raise up, O Siyam." She stumbled, then righted herself, laughing and weeping and continuing her song, "your sword for your guests." The reflection of the stars on the water sparkled in her eyes. “To the Prophet we give praise," her sighs were choked with tears. "To Al Mustafa we give praise. We give praise and ask for protection." The Great Star was the disk of the Almighty on the brow of the water. “The River People will sing our wedding song. To the Prophet we give praise, to Al Mustafa we give praise. The perch himself will dance for us, Siyam." Asha pressed on. “We give praise and ask for protection. . . ."