Safiyah

The sun rises over Cairo, casting a warm golden hue across the bustling streets of the Fatimid city. Safiyah, a young merchant’s daughter, stretches as the sounds of the city fill the air—vendors calling out their wares, the rhythmic clinking of coins, and the distant hum of people bargaining in the crowded souks. Her father’s shop, a small but well-stocked stall near the bazaar, is already alive with activity.

Safiyah adjusts her headscarf and steps into the street, her sandals tapping lightly on the stone. She catches glimpses of the grand minarets of the nearby masjid towering above the narrow alleyways, their shadows stretching long in the early light. The heat of the day presses against her skin, but a cool breeze from the Nile provides some relief. As she walks beside her father’s stall, she sees merchants bartering loudly, their voices rising and falling in a rhythmic dance.

At midday, the Azaan rings out from the masjid, deep and resonant, echoing off the stone buildings and over the rooftops. Safiyah feels the familiar pull in her chest, her thoughts briefly drifting to the sacred rhythm of the city, before returning to the reality of the bustling marketplace.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the city hums with life—a different kind of energy. Lanterns are lit, casting a soft glow on the darkening streets. The cool night air settles in, and Safiyah, exhausted but content, walks back toward her home, the sounds of the lively market still in her ears, the taste of spiced bread and dates lingering on her tongue. The day is over, but the heart of Cairo beats on.