Alaa al-Aswany - The Automobile Club of Egypt

That same day, Wright wrote a notice in English and affixed it to the door, apologizing that the Club would unfortunately not be open due to a short circuit, which was being repaired. Labib the telephone operator gave the same excuse to all the members who called to reserve a table. The Automobile Club was closed for the whole day. The staff interviews finished at one in the morning, and the officers left, but the staff had to stay in the Club. Alku had forbidden them to go home after the questioning and ordered them all up to the roof. It was an unprecedented scene, with the staff from both shifts lined up on one side of the roof and Alku standing on the other. It was also odd to see half of the staff wearing their work caftans and the other half their street clothes, all of them anxious and huddling together as if for protection. The photograph of His Majesty gambling, in the silly hat, sitting beside his mistress, had been taken in the Club without anyone noticing, and then it had been printed and handed out in the streets. A catastrophe had fallen upon their heads from a completely unforeseen direction. Now Alku was going to inflict some punishment on them all. In spite of their terror, they were resigned. Not one dared to speak up, plead ignorance or even make a comment. It was as if they were being driven inexorably toward a fate they had to confront. No words of protest or pleas of ignorance would change things a whit. Even though they had committed no crime, deep down they had accepted the inevitability of being punished. Given the crime was of such a shocking magnitude, whatever they were about to suffer was justified, at least to a certain degree.

Alku looked them over, his face ashen as he ground his teeth. He put his hands behind his back and paced the length of the roof twice. Finally, he stopped and, looking daggers at them, he roared, “Which of you bastards installed the camera?”

A general muttering arose as all tried to disavow any knowledge of the photograph. Alku raised his hand and shouted, “Enough, you pack of dogs. We brought you here from Upper Egypt. We cleaned you up, helped you to get apartments and treated you like human beings, and in return you betray His Majesty the king!”

This time their mutterings were intelligible, “We have been framed, Your Excellency! By God, we haven’t done anything!”

By now Alku was panting with anger. He said nothing for a while, trying to control his breathing, and then thundered at them, “Wailing like a bunch of women! By God, I shall show you no mercy. I don’t accept that the camera could have been installed without your knowing. You bunch of turncoats. You all deserve a good thrashing, and you would get it, by God, if I had not given my word.”

Alku fell silent, and suddenly an ugly, nervous smile appeared on his face. Then he spoke again, spitting out his syllables like darts. “Henceforth, you will not get a piastre in tips. You will subsist on your salaries alone.”

It took a few moments for the shock to sink in. By the time some had started imploring Alku for a more merciful punishment, he had turned on his heel and, as if hearing nothing, had marched off down the stairs, heading for his car with Hameed prancing along behind him.

Said quarreled with Kamel so loudly that it might have come to blows had my mother not intervened. Afterward, Said went back to Tanta, and calm returned to the apartment.

The next morning, Aisha came to visit us. When my mother started to speak, Aisha interrupted her, “Fayeqa told me everything.”

My mother sighed.

“So, what do you think?”

Aisha wiped her brow with the palm of her hand and answered, “Look, Saleha. I know that Said and Fayeqa want you to stay with Abd el-Barr until they sign the contract for the factory.”

No one said a word. Aisha wiped her face again and continued, “God knows, Saleha, that I love you as my own daughter. I want the same for you as I would for Fayeqa. Of course you have to get a divorce.”

My mother’s face showed great relief.

“God preserve you, Aisha,” she said quietly, “for speaking so honestly.”

“Fayeqa didn’t like it when I told her,” continued Aisha. “She gave me hell on the telephone. Naturally, she is looking out for her husband’s interests. But I speak the truth, and Saleha cannot stay with that man for a day longer.”

“Kamel is trying to make Abd el-Barr divorce her,” said my mother. “I hope God will provide someone better next time.”

Aisha went back to being her usual, jovial self. She bit her lips, raised her eyebrows and added, “Of course she’ll find someone better next time. Saleha is a living doll. And she is still intact. Virgin as the day she was born. Any man would want her.”

In spite of my anxiety, I could not help laughing. Aisha seemed unable to hold a conversation without talking about sex. My mother gave her a big hug at the front door as she left. I was touched that she was on our side. If Said went into business with Abd el-Barr, it would be to Fayeqa’s benefit, but even so, Aisha believed that I should have a divorce. For all her racy talk, she was good in all senses of the word. How many men would stand up for the right thing if it went against their own interest? After hearing what Aisha had said, I felt a sense of relief. Why should I not go and study mathematics, which I loved so much? I was immensely cheered as I reviewed my theorems with music blaring out of my radio. I got off to a creaky start solving the problems but slowly got back into the flow. Numbers fired my imagination. I always imagined them like stars scattered across an imaginary sky as I performed operations on them in my head. I was so absorbed in my books that I did not notice the bedroom door opening. Suddenly, I was aware of a movement. I turned around and found Kamel standing there.

“I’m so happy to see you studying again,” he smiled.

“I’m not exactly studying. I’m just going over a few problems for fun.”

“All the Gaafars are talented. By the way, I have been making inquiries about you doing the baccalaureate from home.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The Ministry of Education has instituted a system whereby you can sit for the baccalaureate from home. We can bring tutors for you, and then you can sit the examination.”

“But I’m afraid I’ll fail,” I said without thinking.

Kamel sat down next to me and put his arms around me.

“You will pass, God willing. I’ll bring the form you have to fill in on Saturday.”

I was overcome with a sense of gratitude. Kamel leaned over and kissed me on the forehead before leaving the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

I thought about what he had said. I could not go back to the Sunniya School. I would not be able to bear the looks of pity or schadenfreude from the girls and the teachers. But nor could I bear the nightmare of being a new student in a different school. There was also the possibility that a state school would not admit me at all. I had heard that the Ministry of Education had tried to ban married or divorced girls from going to school. The only option was what Kamel had suggested. I would have to cover the whole syllabus at home, but the thought made me feel suddenly invigorated. I threw myself back into the problems until the dawn call to prayer sounded.

The next day, I woke up at noon. I took a shower and rushed to the kitchen to help my mother, but she insisted that I have breakfast first. She made me a plate of fava beans mashed with olive oil and lemon juice, which I took to the dining room and ate hungrily. I heard the doorbell, and after a little while, my mother appeared, looking worried. She walked over to me and whispered uneasily, “Saleha, Abd el-Barr is here.”