Live Encounters Arab Women Poets & Writers June 2025
Caramel Tears, story by Hanaa Metwally.
Translated from Arabic by Dr. Salwa Gouda.
Before you read, imagine yourself in front of a theater stage. The events unfold here and now, not there and then.
Characters and Props:
An offstage voice—a dignified, grieving woman; a group of women in mourning attire but without sorrow; a radio reciting verses from the Holy Quran; a man serving black coffee; numerous elegant ceramic cups; a cloud of cigarette smoke; a framed portrait of a handsome man adorned with a black mourning ribbon beside a slightly aged wedding photo of the same man; a heavyset man; a thin man; a frying pan caramelizing sugar; eggs dissolving in milk.
Scene One:
Setting: A home reception room.
The offstage voice hums a French funeral melody for a minute before fading away.
Time: Night. The hands of the Victorian-style wall clock near the handsome man’s portrait approach 9:30 PM.
Decor: Elegant, orderly European-style classical furniture, exuding the scent of cleaning fluids and fresh air freshener. The furnishings are monochromatic.
The women form a circle around the dignified, grieving lady, who weeps silently. She lifts her face with pride, enduring condolences with stoicism. The offstage voice returns, humming the French funeral melody as the curtain slowly closes.
Scene Two:
Before the curtain rises, a large sign drops with bold, colored letters: “One Week Earlier.”
Setting: A bedroom. The walls are painted in shades of fuchsia. A wedding photo of a handsome man and an elegant woman hangs on the wall. A soft bed. A man sleeps beside a woman in a white nightgown—bare-chested, arms exposed. The man wears traditional sleepwear.
The woman jolts awake, turns on a soft light that illuminates her delicate face. She gazes at her sleeping husband, wipes salty beads of sweat from his forehead, kisses his cheek, sips from his lips, runs her palm over his head. The husband turns away. She adjusts the cold AC, places her left hand on her heart, turns off the light, looks at him once more, and blows a fleeting kiss to his lips.
The curtain closes softly as the offstage voice plays a French funeral melody.
Scene Three:
The large sign drops again, now reading: “One Day Earlier.”
Setting: A clean, elegant kitchen open to a refined dining area. The woman wears a sand-colored mid-length skirt, dark thick stockings, and flat shoes, her upper half hidden under a floral-printed blouse.
She moves like a busy bee—swift, efficient, and organized. The aroma of spices, the sound of sizzling oil, and the steam rising from the electric oven whet the appetite. She endlessly dusts and sprays fresh scents.
From stage right enters the handsome husband, accompanied by a kind-faced heavyset man and a witty thin man. The three sit around the table. The woman approaches, smiling warmly, welcomes the guests, and arranges the dishes neatly. She sits opposite them, her gaze lingering on her husband’s face.
The Thin Man: The food is delicious, as always.
The Heavyset Man: I can’t stop eating—I need a spare stomach! Lucky man, you are.
The Husband: (Laughs hysterically) It’s only fair she excels at something to distract from her failure to bear a child, unlike other mammals.
(The lights dim until darkness swallows everyone. The offstage voice—a woman’s sob—plays a French funeral melody.)
Scene Four:
At an ambiguous time…
The woman is curled up on the bathroom floor. The monotonous sound of dripping water. Her wails are like a wounded animal bleeding out. The stage is dark except for a faint spotlight casting her shadow. The husband’s voice comes from outside.
Husband: You forgot to make the caramel cream. I want it now—immediately.
(Darkness swallows the shadows. The curtain falls.)
Scene Five:
The Kitchen.
The woman still weeps. Her crying turns into muffled sobs, yet she buzzes with activity like a bee. She places sugar in the pan, lights the flame. The milk boils. She cracks eggs into a small bowl, whisks them with an electric mixer. Tears fall into the pan—the salt threatens to ruin the caramel. She wipes her tears, fixes the caramel, but new tears fall, nearly spoiling the mixture again. She pours the milk and egg mixture into the oven, separated from direct heat by a water bath. She returns to salvage the caramel—another tear drops. She removes the custard, places it in an ice bath to cool, then into the fridge. Her eyes pour endless tears. She takes it out, now firm, prepares the caramel, but tears drip in again. Her sobs grow more agonizing. She pours the caramel over the cream set in an elegant mold. A spotlight follows her as she carries the caramel cream to her husband, seated on the couch in the dining room, watching TV. He devours it greedily.
The clock spins rapidly. The husband’s head droops to his chest—never to rise again. The offstage voice—a woman humming a French funeral melody.
Curtain.
© Hanaa Metwally
Dr Salwa Gouda is an accomplished Egyptian literary translator, critic, and academic affiliated with the English Language and Literature Department at Ain Shams University. Holding a PhD in English literature and criticism, Dr. Gouda pursued her education at both Ain Shams University and California State University, San Bernardino. She has authored several academic works, including Lectures in English Poetry and Introduction to Modern Literary Criticism, among others. Dr. Gouda also played a significant role in translating The Arab Encyclopedia for Pioneers, a comprehensive project featuring poets, philosophers, historians, and literary figures, conducted under the auspices of UNESCO. Recently, her poetry translations have been featured in a poetry anthology published by Alien Buddha Press in Arizona, USA. Her work has also appeared in numerous international literary magazines, further solidifying her contributions to the field of literary translation and criticism.
Hanaa Metwally is an Egyptian writer born in Mansoura, holding a bachelor’s degree in foreign Trade from Mansoura University. She has published several works, including the novel A Day Left to Kill (2024) and the short story collection Three Women in a Small Room (2025). She won the Suad Al-Sabah Award in 2019 and received grants from both Mufradat and Al-Mawred Al-Thaqafy foundations. Her play Philosophers Don’t Know Love was longlisted for the Doha Drama Award.