Sami Sabet - Judge Me if You Can

With all the commotion, no one noticed me. After what seemed a long while, my grandmother started to toss and turn in bed, as if having a seizure. She seemed to be trying to get loose, like the man I saw, chained on the back of the truck in Saudi. Suddenly, she became still, and her mouth dropped open. Everyone started crying and, some, screaming. My mother and aunt bent over her and hugged and kissed her. They were crying uncontrollably, while the others, also, crying, walked over to console them. I touched her exposed feet and found them cold and hard. Someone got a large scarf and wrapped it around her chin and head to force her mouth shut. Then, they pulled the cover over her face and head. They then realised that I was there, and quickly ushered me out of the room.

I remember wondering why I was unable to cry like them but felt that I wanted to memorise this moment. The day was Thursday 16th of May. I walked to my favourite clock and heard it chime six times; it was six o’clock in the evening. I sensed that this was bad and knew I would never see her again. Funnily, for some reason, I remembered the rose petal jam and butter sandwiches she used to give me for supper; I loved them and continue to look for and enjoy them even now. I would never forget the moment I last saw my adorable, kind, and elegant grandmother.

We spent the following three days at her house. On the following morning, wrapped in a white sheet, looking just like a sweet with its wrapping twisted at either end, my grandmother was taken out of the house. Semita, Snats, Sirkaak and I were not allowed to attend her burial. However, over the following three days, members of the family and friends came to pay their respects and offer their condolences. Waiters were walking around offering mourners Turkish coffee and water. The radio was on, broadcasting verses from the Koran to do with a person’s death and expectations of Heaven thereafter. After this period, we were taken home, and back to normal life.

My father decided he would open a private clinic in central Cairo, where most clinics were found. He eventually found one in a road called Sharie Sherieff, similar to Harley Street in London. Along with this, he also decided we should move nearer to his work and the centre of the city.

We moved into the elite island on the river Nile, called Zamalek, which was connected to the mainland by four bridges, two into town on the east side and two to the west. The building in which the new flat existed was only two stories high, sharing the wall enclosing the Officers’ Club on its west side. Our flat was of average size, comprising one huge master bedroom, a very large second bedroom, a bathroom, cloakroom, large kitchen-breakfast room and three reception rooms, each of similar sizes to the master bedroom. In the dining room was a rectangular dining table with eight chairs, of which two were carvers, and a sideboard storing plates, glasses, and cutlery. The room was so big, I used to ride my bike around it and, on its dining table, play ping pong with my brother and friends. There were three balconies and, through the kitchen-breakfast room, more access to the outside through what was called the servants’ staircase. We used it to climb to the roof, play and, when organised, watch a famous singer, Om Kalthum, perform in front of the president and other senior officers, on stage in the neighbouring club.

My brother and I went to the local government school, whilst my sister found herself in a private preschool called ‘Baby Home.’ We also joined the very exclusive Gezira Sporting Club, set in approximately 400,000 square metres of land, housing an outdoor cinema, six swimming pools, two football pitches, two gyms, basketball, volleyball, tennis and squash courts. It also housed restaurants and cafes, various activity areas, croquet lawns, a nine-hole golf course, and a horseracing track with large stand and stables. It was magnificent and the most exclusive club in Egypt at that time.

At school, I was always first or second in class, captain of the basketball team, and helped run the student social club, where we played board games, backgammon, chess, and many other games. We also set up groups to discuss or debate any topics we felt inclined to explore. Every day, before classes, the whole school attended a morning assembly outside in the playground. Everyone would stand in line, along with their classmates, while the headmaster would greet us and speak about forthcoming events during the day and other topics.

One day, he introduced a teacher who was going to lead us in performing some physical activities. He started by showing us how to do the first one. In my eagerness, and wanting to do it well when asked, I practised it. I was only 10 years old. He saw me and promptly asked me to join him at the front. With a very loud, aggressive tone, I was asked if I had heard him give the order to start the exercise. I replied, sorrowfully, that I had not and apologised. To my surprise, he asked me to hold the palm of my hand out and proceeded to hit it with a cane. I was in shock and pain.

This had never happened to me before, as I was always well behaved in class and completed all the tasks asked of me. Whenever there was misbehaviour, and the teacher could not find out who was responsible, he would cane everyone except me. Instead, when he approached me, he would ask me to sit down, without punishment, knowing that I would never break a rule. As far as I was concerned, on that day, I had not done anything that deserved such punishment. Apart from the pain, I felt embarrassed and humiliated in front of all my friends, teachers, and the whole school. Everyone seemed surprised and gasped as I was dealt the blows. I detested him and had no intention of carrying out his stupid instructions. Staring at him, desperately holding back tears, I turned and walked away quickly to my classroom.

A couple of weeks later, I fell ill with a fever. My mother informed the school, and, for the first time, I had to stay home. I missed my friends and the activities we normally enjoyed. After school, to my mother’s surprise, almost the entire year came to ask about me. They had to wait, as mum did not want them to be infected – and, of course, there was no room for them all! I was told to look outside our balcony on the first floor. I could not believe what I saw. At least 60 pupils, standing in three rows, were waving and shouting, “May you get well soon!” I thanked them and we had a few conversations about what they did at school, how the club did not open, and several other interesting happenings. My mother told me that the time had come when I must go inside to rest. So, I thanked everyone and waved them goodbye. I felt better for seeing them, and also appreciated the effort they had gone to, just to come and ask about me.

On Thursdays, Semita and I, along with two other friends, would take our bikes out and ride around the area. We would explore new places, initially on the somewhat large island on which we lived before we expanded our routes to include suburbs further afield. It was fantastic and very informative. We rode through much poorer areas with dilapidated houses, dirt roads, and green fields beyond, where we discovered a local small airport with a lot of private, single-engine planes flying into and out of it. We learned a great deal about aeroplane technical details, about flying and the use of wings and rudders, as well as the type of fuel they use.

This proved very useful, as, sometime later, my cousin Tutu came to visit and brought with him a petrol-driven, remote-controlled plane. It was empty and he was not sure if he could buy normal fuel for it, from the local petrol station. I told him about the airport and the fact that, probably, he would need a special aviation fuel, which was found there. My brother and I took him there and managed to purchase the fuel. We filled the plane and took it to a large field nearby. There, we were able to fly it and spent a couple of hours taking turns to do so. It was a great experience making this plane fly at differing heights, turn in the air and land. I felt like I had become a pilot and, indeed, thought that I wanted to become one when I got older.