Alaa al-Aswany - The Automobile Club of Egypt

Yusuf Tarboosh’s face flushed and he muttered some words of prayer. The Club staff, against their better judgment, appeared to be on the verge of agreeing with what Abdoun was saying, when Rikabi the chef called out, “Just shut up. Hold your tongue, you scum, before you utter another word against your master Alku!”

His enormous body was quaking with anger. He strode over to Abdoun and would have hit him had the others not rushed over and stood between them, though it did nothing to calm the emotions and the arguments descending into unintelligible cacophony.

Bahr the barman said not a word, smoking his water pipe calmly and observing what was going on.

Rikabi walked right over and grunted at him, “Why are you sitting here so quietly, Bahr? Why aren’t you on our side against your friend Abdoun, or perhaps you agree with him?”

“Leave me alone, Rikabi.”

“I’ll bet you put him up to this.”

Bahr gave him a disdainful look.

“If I wanted to say something, I’d say it myself.”

Then he drew a long drag on the pipe, making the water bubble furiously and irritating Rikabi even more.

“All right, Bahr. I’ll tell Alku and he’ll teach you a lesson.”

“As you wish.”

“Would you defy our master?”

“You can think what you like,” replied Bahr, taking another drag on his water pipe.

Rikabi’s face flushed like that of an angry bull. “I’m leaving. I don’t have to listen to this rubbish.”

Walking out of the café was an exemplary solution. Up to that moment, the staff had been rooted to the spot by the rush of events and their terror at the consequences, but the moment Rikabi walked out, he was followed by Yusuf Tarboosh and Maître Shakir. Then the others dashed out after them into the street as if fleeing a fire, leaving behind the café waiters and a few regulars who did not work at the Club.

Abdoun dragged a chair over and sat next to Bahr the barman, who simply said, “Don’t blame them. It’s difficult for them.”

“Well, Uncle Bahr, I’d just like to understand how Alku can have them beaten and then be thanked for it.”

Bahr thought it over a little and said, “Alku is a devil who stops at nothing, but he controls their wages.”

Abdoun asked him nervously, “Has Alku ever had you beaten, Uncle Bahr?”

With a wince, he responded,“Of course he has had me beaten, when I was young and had just started at the Club. But as I grew older and became the barman, he stopped having me beaten. Shakir, Tarboosh, Rikabi and I are never touched, because he earns so much from us.”

“He gets half of all our tips too.”

“Alku says that he uses it to pay for the training school.”

“Bahr, you know that’s a lie. The palace pays for the school, and Alku keeps the tips for himself.”

Bahr smiled and gave him an admiring look, saying, “God keep you, Abdoun. You are clever and brave, but unfortunately, your effort will come to nothing. You will never be able to change the way the staff think because their mentality is tied to the current system. Every word you said will by now have reached Alku’s ears. God help you.”

It seemed like the angel of death was hovering above our building. I felt a strange sense of foreboding about my mother. I trembled whenever I imagined that I might suddenly lose her like I had lost my father. I would wake up in the middle of the night and go to check on her. I would walk over to her in the dark as she was sleeping, holding my finger just below her nostrils to see that she was still breathing. I only ever left her side when I went to school. I made her sit next to me when I did my homework, and I felt that she needed me as much as I needed her. My mother had plunged headlong into battle to try to get my father’s pension. The day Comanus telephoned asking if he could come and see us, my brother Kamel and I were sitting with her. When she put the receiver down, she looked worried and asked us, “Why do you think Comanus wants to come and see us?”

Kamel placed a hand on my mother’s shoulder and replied, “It must be good news. Comanus is a good man.”

“But he already paid his condolences. What does he want now?”

“Perhaps now he has some news.”

My mother gave a sigh, “God help us. We have enough problems.”

The following day we all waited for Comanus to arrive, my mother, Kamel, Said, Mahmud and I. He shook hands warmly with us one by one. He was wearing a smart gray suit and a white shirt with a blue tie. From the very first, I felt comfortable with him. He looked like a pleasant, trustworthy man, and I liked the way he smiled and tried to pronounce Arabic consonants. My mother invited him into the sitting room while I went to the kitchen to prepare the Turkish coffee as he’d asked for it, semisweet. I served it with a glass of ice water on the beautiful silver tray my mother saved for guests. As agreed before he arrived, Mahmud and I then withdrew, leaving Comanus with the adults. As usual, my brother Mahmud appeared indifferent to what was going on and went off to his bedroom, but I could not overcome my curiosity. I turned the lights off in the dining room, pushed the door open a little and positioned myself so that I could see and hear without being noticed.

Comanus started off by saying, “I have come to see that you are all well.”

“It’s very kind of you,” said my mother warmly.

Comanus continued, “The late Abd el-Aziz was like a brother to me. Please, Umm Said, if you need anything, just ask me.”

“May God keep you, sir.”

They fell into silence again. Comanus cleared his throat and said, “I found out what happened when you went to see Mr. Wright. It’s very unfortunate.”

My mother pricked up her ears. She leaned back against her chair and said firmly, “It just does not make sense that my late husband could work at the Club for five years and that they don’t pay a widow’s pension. What rules or laws do they operate under?”

“You’re right. The rules and bylaws are unjust.”

My mother replied with a stronger voice, “The rules and the bylaws mean nothing to me, sir. Please God, the court will make them pay what is due to us.”

“But, Umm Said, going to court is a long, drawn-out process.”

“I will make them pay.”

“The lawyers also charge a fortune!”

“We can afford it, thank God.”

“I have come to suggest another solution.”

My mother looked at him and said nothing.

Comanus took a sip of coffee and continued: “After much effort, I have managed to persuade Mr. Wright to take two of your boys on at the Club, in the place of their late father. One will work with me in the storeroom and the other doing deliveries. Together they will earn the equivalent of his pension.”

My mother remained silent, and Comanus added quietly, “Isn’t that a better solution than the headache of going to court?”

“God help us,” muttered my mother who seemed to be thinking it over.

Comanus smiled and added apologetically, “Of course, Mr. Wright has agreed to this on condition you do not take the Club to court.”

“I understand.”

“So, you agree?”

“Please God it will all be for the best. I just need two or three days to think it over and I’ll telephone you.”

“Splendid!”

“I am so grateful to you, Monsieur Comanus, for having thought about how you can help us. We will never forget this kindness.”

Comanus replied with warm sincerity: “It’s the very least I can do for the late Abd el-Aziz. But, please, Umm Said, give me your answer soon. It was difficult to win Mr. Wright over, and I’m worried he’ll change his mind.”

They chatted about nothing in particular for another quarter of an hour, and then Comanus said that he had to leave. They showed him out and returned to the sitting room. My mother sat on the chair next to the window, with Said and Kamel near her on the sofa. As I was on my way to join them, my mother said, “Come in, Saleha. I want to tell you something.”