Alaa al-Aswany - The Automobile Club of Egypt

The last remark hardened Sidqi’s resolve, and the three cavaliers took up their positions around the table. Fawzy asked the waiter to stay near them, “Listen, brother! We three champions have got colossal appetites. The moment you see an empty plate, clear it away and bring another one. And make sure that you don’t keep us waiting!”

“At your service, Master Fawzy,” the waiter answered politely, Fawzy sneering back at him, “God protect you! You look healthy enough, but by the Prophet, I’m sure that you’ll trip over your long legs when serving us. Anyway, in the name of God, just keep bringing us the kushari, will you!”

“Would you three young sirs like medium or large portions?”

Fawzy snorted indignantly and snapped back, “Since when do big cheeses like us eat medium size? What a stupid question.”

The waiter apologized for his blunder and rushed off to the kitchen, returning quickly with three large plates of kushari. The boys shoveled them down in a trice, whereupon Fawzy called out, “Next one!”

The second round was followed by a third and then a fourth. By the fifth round, Fawzy had expected Sidqi to throw in the towel or at least show signs of slowing down, but he was going full steam ahead as he finished off the fifth plate. In the sixth round, Fawzy managed to finish his plate with some difficulty, and he noticed the color ebbing from Mahmud’s face. When he noticed Sidqi still eating like there was no tomorrow, Fawzy realized that the contest would not be a pushover.

The three sat eating in grim silence. Fawzy, hoping to get his breath, ordered a jug of water. He was about to drink it slowly in order to settle his stomach, when Sidqi poured a whole glass down his throat in one go and gave a huge belch before calling out to the waiter, “What’s the matter with you? Have you gone to sleep? We’re waiting for the seventh round!”

With the first spoonfuls, Fawzy and Mahmud started having obvious problems. They were chewing slowly and finding it difficult to swallow. Sidqi, on the other hand, was sending spoonful after spoonful down his gullet, in a state of complete insouciance. The sight of him shook Fawzy’s morale; he felt dizzy and breathless, not to mention that ache in his distended stomach.

“This is a catastrophe!” he thought. “That Sidqi’s a ringer. But if I lose, it will be even worse. I’ve only got ten piastres on me.”

Aisha had such a thunderous voice that she might as well have shouted her curses through a megaphone, as her every word was audible to the neighbors, passersby and those whiling away their evenings in the coffee shop opposite the apartment building. They all regularly enjoyed a good row. The only person disturbed by it was Said Gaafar. He had put on a white shirt and gray trousers, shaved, combed his hair meticulously and dabbed lavender cologne all over his neck and hands. Then he stood by the front door of his flat, anxiously listening to the argument across the hall, his usual insouciant look wiped from his face. Said was neither brainy like Saleha nor talented like Kamel, but he was also not as dim-witted as Mahmud. He had an alert and organized mind, though he lacked the imagination to fathom anything beyond the immediate scope of his senses. He understood nothing in life that he could not translate into a number. Said saw the world as completely stark, without shadows, one-dimensional. In Said’s world, life was just one enormous race for riches. Words of wisdom and tales of other people’s achievements were nothing more than chimeras, distractions from the real business of life that could only bring about the sort of misery into which his father, Abd el-Aziz, had fallen. After all, while his father had gone around claiming to be the leader of a clan and a wise Arab elder, he had frittered all his money away on his relatives, only to discover that they were ingrates and not prepared to lift a finger to help him back out of penury. If only his father approached life in a more practical manner, they would not now be living through these hard times. Deep down, Said resented his father for his ridiculous behavior, all the more so since Abd el-Aziz, despite having so little, still maintained a guesthouse on the roof for all those hangers-on from Daraw. He appeared not to have learned his lesson. It was his father’s spendthrift behavior that was preventing Said from going to university. Well, he could not deny there was also the matter of his having had to repeat a year at school twice and even so not quite having managed to get the marks necessary for college. But if his father had saved his money instead of squandering it on his good-for-nothing relatives, Said would have been able to afford a private college, and then he would be able to go to university like his younger brother.

Nevertheless, he knew what he had to do and had set himself some very specific goals. If life was a race, then he had to come first. He tried to map out exactly how he could get the desired results. He did everything in a calculated and meticulous way, starting with shaving: after each use he dried the razor blade and put it back in its paper wrapper to keep it from rusting. Likewise with his shoes, which he put back in their original box every night before going to sleep as if he were putting his children to bed. Then there were his savings, which no one knew about. His ceaselessly competitive spirit subjected everything to the dictates of profit and loss. Often, when meeting someone for the first time, after the usual introductions, Said would cock his head and ask, “And how much do you earn?” Usually, the person was so taken aback that he actually answered. Then Said struck with another question, “And how much do you save each month?”

This utterly gauche behavior afforded him great satisfaction when he came out on top after comparing the answer to his own monthly savings. Said subjected everything he did to the same careful scrutiny, except for his relationship with Fayeqa. It was not romantic love but rather physical attraction that made him chase after her, helplessly, like a moth to a flame. Fayeqa simply exuded femininity. It was as if her mother’s flawed and aggressive sensuality had been distilled into some pure essence in Fayeqa. Nature grants women sufficient charms to attract a man so that they can bond and form a family, but, without exaggeration, Fayeqa’s inherent allure was greater than the sum of its parts. Her every movement and glance could wildly excite a man. Such natural and searing femininity often became a crushing burden for a woman, an unanswered cry for help that left her troubled and overwhelmed. Taking a refreshing hot bath seemed to help. But there too: for Fayeqa, bathing was not just something she did for cleanliness but a ritual in which she celebrated her body. She would check herself all over: the fingernails that she clipped, filed, buffed and painted every day making them look like little works of art; her soft, smooth skin, her jet-black hair, her pale face with its rosy blush. As far as she was concerned, her beauty was not just a blessing but a modus vivendi, and one to be cultivated. Just as a soccer player works on his agility, a violinist practices fingering and a singer does vocal exercises, Fayeqa worked her body as her chief asset and the guarantor of a secure future. Despite her father’s stinginess, Fayeqa, through all sorts of clever schemes, had managed to amass a small arsenal of beauty products, her mother’s hand-me-downs, some items bought on sale and a few odd gifts in addition to a library of old glamour magazines she had bought for next to nothing from Awad the secondhand bookseller in Tram Street.

One of the most astonishing things was Fayeqa’s ability to transform herself completely not only with makeup but with manners. Like a gifted actress, she could blend in to any situation. All she had to do was decide on an emotion and she could embody it. If she wanted to affect sadness, she could weep like a child, and if she wanted to appear happy, everyone would be moved by her sincere delight. Fayeqa was always quarreling with her mother, perhaps because they were so much alike. Sometimes they had violent run-ins, like wild animals disputing territory. At the same time, they were completely in sync and between themselves could communicate with a single glance.