Letter to Her Uncle, ‘Eli ibn Hilāl

Early 12th Century

In Your name, O Merciful One.

If I tried to express to you, my uncle—may God preserve you—what [has happened to me, or how I miss you, a letter would not be enough] nor an epistle sufficient. And to whom holds the keys . . . bestow happiness in His mercy, and be close to answer him . . . complete months, and I’m in the sixth month [of my pregnancy]—may Exalted God . . . if you count the days a day at the time. And I say what . . . [when] the time is near. And by God, you should make an effort to come to [us] . . . a little in your presence. And you should know that my mother—may God preserve her—returns his greeting to her, and she does not require anything, and . . . Abū ’l-Ma‘ālī, and I swear that the sheikh Abū ’l-Ḥasan did not arrive . . . what we want. And you would know that if you were here . . . and we will be reunited with one another. And if you . . . . Death and life are in the hand of God—His name be exalted. And I implore you, by G[od] . . . grief. And will you perform two tasks, the first of which will relieve my mind . . . my master and what concerns him of . . . which you know . . . and I ask you to be so kind [and purchase] a black-skinned girl from the slave trader, of five or six years of age. . . . And I’ve heard that you have many of them [there]. And you should write . . . to you. And if you can, let your associates this month . . . fail in any need but this. And don’t neglect this . . . as long as I have the gold to repay . . . as you said on the day of your letter, that I told you I would . . . your heart. You are the fruit of my heart, and, God, I have written [many letters and] a reply to [even] one of them I have not. If you could see me, what . . . even the night’s sleep has been pulled from my eyes because of the distress of the debts that have brought me to shame [lit., “consumed my face”] and distress at my separation from my daughter, from Cairo to the city. And my heart is rent, and my heart is preoccupied with my master, who one day is among the living and the rest of the time among the dead. And this was more than enough for me already, until I also learned of Sitt Ikhtiyār’s pain, whom you know is not in the family but—mercy on her misfortune!—has until today, for the last three months, been confined to bed with a hectic fever. And nothing is left in her, but we say, “Any moment now!” My heart has already suffered a terrible blow for her sake. And by God, my brother, if my daughter should have need of life’s necessities, then she has not a stitch of underclothing, nor work of . . .

[Verso:] . . . what has happened to you, and may this concern that lies on my heart be a little relieved. Best greetings to you yourself, and all of us send you best greetings, and Abū ’l-Munā and Abū ’l-Ma‘ālī send you greetings, and Na‘īm and Muwaffaq send you greetings, and Abū Sa‘īd ibn Qatā’if sends you best greetings.