Alaa al-Aswany - The Automobile Club of Egypt

“What they say today behind my back, they’ll say in front of me tomorrow.”

“You are blowing it out of proportion.”

“Mr. Wright, I have spent my whole life dealing with servants, and I know them very well. They only work diligently if they are afraid. And they are only afraid if they feel that at any moment they can be punished, whether on justifiable grounds or not! If a man of the serving class has confidence in himself and his capabilities, if he thinks he can seek justice, if he feels that he has rights, he will rebel immediately. Justice only corrupts because if you have become accustomed to being treated badly, you cannot understand justice. If you give a servant any respect, he will misbehave. Respect is a difficult concept for a servant because he considers it a form of weakness. No matter how much a servant might complain about the harsh treatment he receives from his master, he can understand the reason for it and he respects it.”

“Rest assured,” Wright said, having exhaled a cloud of smoke from his pipe. “There is not going to be any rebellion. Keep an eye on the situation and keep me updated.”

Alku was on the point of objecting, but Wright went back to reading the ledger. That was a sign that the meeting had ended.

As etiquette dictated, Alku bowed and asked, “Anything else I can do, sir?”

“No.”

Alku left Wright gazing at his numbers. He was so distracted that after a few minutes, he could no longer take in what he was reading. He got up and told Khalil that he was not to be disturbed and then locked the door from the inside. Except for a glass of wine with lunch, Wright never drank during office hours. But in his office he kept a bottle of whiskey for guests from which, over the course of a year, only a few glasses had been drunk. Now, however, he felt the pressing need for a drink. The first gulp unleashed all his anxieties. Good Lord, what had let all these genies out of the bottle? He felt cursed. Why was everything conspiring against him? Imagine, his daughter turning down an invitation from the king. How many girls in the world would think of doing that? It was just more of Mitsy’s endless objectionable behavior, and as usual her aim was to provoke him. No more, no less. Had he ordered her to turn the invitation down, she would have insisted on going. What could explain her great joy in being contrary? What had he done to make his daughter dislike him so much, and why was he facing one crisis after another? What was going on in the Club? Abdoun was just an ordinary worker, an insignificant insect under ordinary circumstances. He had given him the position as a favor to Odette. And now Abdoun was trying to incite his colleagues to rebellion? Wright smiled at the irony. He went over his conversation with Alku and felt depressed. Alku was right. What Abdoun had said could only corrupt the serving staff, and under normal circumstances, he would have been fired immediately for much less. Wright took another sip of whiskey.

“Why did I overrule Alku?” he mused. “Why did I say the opposite of what I believe? Am I so afraid of upsetting Odette? How could I have fallen so low? An old dodderer who lies to keep his young lady happy?”

He poured himself another whiskey and sat down, stretched out his legs and took a large gulp, feeling its warmth spread through him. How had Odette managed to make him so subservient? Now he spent his days just waiting to meet her. His normal life, his time in the office and at home, even meetings at the Club, were all passed in anticipation of his meetings with Odette, which now seemed like his real life. Everything else was dull and unreal. The shame of it. Had his desire made him forget his honor? He finished his third whiskey and told himself, “I am an old man and might die at any moment. I have to keep my honor. My relationship with Odette may be sinful, but what I did to Alku is a grave error. Being unfaithful to my wife harms no one except her, but lying and going against my better instincts for the sake of my own desire is a complete and utter abdication of morals.”

The alcohol only sharpened his feelings of dissatisfaction. He left the Automobile Club and went for lunch at the Gezira Club. After another glass of whiskey, he could contain himself no longer. He telephoned Odette and asked her if he could come and see her immediately. Her voice was guarded, as if she had been expecting his call. They agreed to meet an hour later at the apartment.

He had another glass, paid the bill and whiled away the hour pacing the streets of Zamalek. At the appointed time, he went up to the apartment, and the moment he had let himself in, she appeared in front of him, and he hugged her. Odette laughed. She stretched her leg out behind her and kicked the door shut. They kissed for a long time, and the heat from her body made the blood flow uncontrollably in his veins. He held her tight, covering her face and neck with kisses, but she pushed him away gently.

“What is it you wanted to see me about so urgently?” she asked affectionately.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“I want to know now.”

He moved away from her and slowly poured two glasses of whiskey as he pondered how to begin. He gave her a glass and sat down on the chair facing the door. “You know how much I love you.”

She nodded and smiled.

“You asked me to give Abdoun a job at the Automobile Club,” he went on. “And I did it because you asked.”

Odette took a sip from her glass and lit a cigarette. “I’m deeply grateful for that.”

“Abdoun has been causing some problems.”

“What awful thing has he done? Has he killed someone in your great club?”

“He is inciting the staff against us.”

“What a heinous crime. Why don’t you throw him to the hungry lions as the Roman emperors did to those who annoyed them?”

“Please don’t be so sarcastic. I need your help.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Wright hesitated a little and then said quietly, “Odette, you have to make Abdoun understand that he can’t shoot off his mouth.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s demanding an end to corporal punishment.”

Odette looked at him in shock and shouted, “Corporal punishment? You mean you have your underlings beaten?”

“I don’t.”

“Then who does?”

“The overall head of the staff. He orders the punishments.”

“And you find that acceptable?”

“Oh, please stop it!”

“Even if you don’t participate in that crime yourself, you’re just as guilty.”

“It’s not a crime.”

“If you beat an underling in Britain, you’d be tried in court and sent to prison.”

Wright tut-tutted and said, “We are not in Britain, Odette. Your problem is that you live in cloud-cuckoo-land. You are incapable of seeing reality. I’ve already told you that Egyptians are different from Westerners.”

“So you think that a British worker deserves to be treated decently whereas an Egyptian needs to be beaten?”

Wright sat in silence. He downed his drink in one gulp, and the blood rushed to his face as Odette became more worked up and shouted at him, “Answer me!”

“What can I say?”

“Do you not think that all men have equal rights?”

“Everyone is entitled to the same rights, but their understanding of rights is different.”

“Don’t play around with words. Go ahead and tell me your honest opinion: Should Egyptians be subjected to more humiliating treatment than British people?”

“Yes. That’s what I think!” Wright, now red in the face, barked. He went over to the window, and turning his back to Odette, he shouted, “I’ve had enough of your lectures. Listen to me and you’ll understand once and for all. Egyptians are stupid, lazy liars. If you don’t like my opinion, then I’m sorry. I am the general manager of the Automobile Club, and a member of staff I appointed as a favor to you is causing problems with his colleagues. Tell him to keep his trap shut and not to stick his nose into other people’s business. Tell him that the Club rules will never change. Any servant found wanting will be dealt with severely.”