Alaa Al Aswany - The Yacoubian Building

Souad left a delicate, fascinating impression on the Hagg’s heart. What pleased him specially was the meekness that poverty and a hard life had left her with. He considered that her history was in no way blameworthy: she had married a house painter, who had left her a son and then abandoned her and gone off to Iraq, where nothing more was heard from him; the court had granted her a divorce so that her situation should not lead to social problems.

The Hagg sent people secretly to ask about her at her work and home, and everyone praised her for her morals. Then he performed the prayer for guidance in choice and Souad Gaber appeared to him in a dream in all her beauty (but decently dressed and not naked and vulgar like the women of whom he usually dreamed). As a result, Hagg Azzam put his trust in God and visited Souad’s family in Sidi Bishr, sat down with Rayyis Hamidu, her elder brother (who worked as a waiter in a cafe in El Manshiya), and agreed with him on everything. Hagg Azzam, who was, as usual when conducting a business transaction, clear and frank and not disposed to bargain, married Souad Gaber on the following conditions:

1. That Souad come and live with him in Cairo and leave her small son Tamir with her mother in Alexandria, it being understood that she could go and visit him “when convenient.”

2. That he should buy her jewelry to a value of ten thousand pounds as an engagement present and that he should pay a bride price of twenty thousand pounds, it being understood that the amount to be paid in the case of an eventual divorce should not exceed five thousand pounds.

3. That the marriage should remain a secret and that it be clearly understood that in the case of Hagga Salha, his wife, finding out about his new marriage, he would be compelled to divorce Souad forthwith.

4. That, while the marriage was to be conducted according to the norms set by God and His Prophet, he had no desire whatsoever for offspring.

Hagg Azzam stressed this last condition, making it extremely clear to Rayyis Hamidu that neither his age nor his circumstances permitted him to be father to a child at this time and that if Souad got pregnant, the agreement would be considered abrogated forthwith.

“What’s wrong?”

The two of them were on the bed: Souad in her blue nightgown that revealed her full, trembling breasts, her thighs, and her amazingly white arms, Hagg Azzam stretched out beside her on his back wearing his white gallabiya. This was their hour — every day after the Hagg had performed the afternoon prayer in his office and gone up to her in the luxury apartment that he had bought her on the seventh floor of the building to take his lunch, after which he would sleep with her till before the last prayer and then leave her until the following day. This was the only regime that allowed him to see her without disturbing his family life.

Today, however, he was, unlike his usual self, exhausted and anxious. He was thinking about something that had kept him distracted all day long but now he was tired of thinking and had a headache and nausea from the several hand-rolled cigarettes he had smoked after eating and he wished Souad would leave him to sleep for a little. She, however, stretched out her hands, took his head between their soft palms with their sweetly perfumed scent, looked at him for a while with her wide, black eyes, and whispered, “What’s wrong, my dear?”

The Hagg smiled and mumbled, “Lots of problems at work.”

“Praise God you’ve got your health. That’s the most important thing.”

“Praise God.”

“I swear to Almighty God, the world isn’t worth a second’s worry!”

“You’re right.”

“Tell me what’s bothering you, Hagg.”

“As though you don’t have enough problems of your own!”

“Go on with you! Are my problems more important than yours?”

The Hagg smiled and looked at her gratefully. Then he moved closer, planted a kiss on her cheek, pulled his head back a little, and said in a serious voice, “God willing, I intend to put myself forward for the People’s Assembly.”

“The People’s Assembly?”

“Yes.”

She was taken aback for a moment because it was so unexpected, but she soon pulled herself together and wreathed her face in a happy smile, saying gaily, “What a wonderful day, Hagg! Should I whoop for joy or what?”

“Let’s just hope that things go well and I get elected.”

“God willing.”

“You know, Souad, if I get into the Assembly… I can do business worth millions.”

“Of course you’ll get in. Could they find anyone better than you?”

Then she puckered up her lips as though talking down to a child and said to him (using the words one would to a little girl), “But I’m scared, sweetie, that when you appear on television and everyone sees you looking so cute, they’ll go steal you away from me!”

The Hagg burst into laughter and she moved up close so he could feel the warmth of her excited body. Then she reached over with her hand in an unhurried, practiced, long-lasting caress that finally yielded its fruits, and let out a ribald laugh when she saw that in his enthusiasm and haste, he had got his head stuck in the neck of his gallabiya.

It was just like when you watch a film — you get engrossed in it and you react to it, but in the end the lights go back on, you return to reality, you leave the cinema, and the cold air of the street, crowded with cars and passersby, strikes you on the face; everything returns to its normal size and you think of everything that happened as just a movie, just a lot of acting.

That’s how Taha el Shazli recalls the events of the day of the character interview: the long corridor of luxurious red carpet, the huge spacious room with its lofty ceiling, the large desk raised enough above floor level to make it seem like the dais in a courtroom, the low leather seat on which he sat, the three generals with their huge flabby bodies, white suits, shiny brass buttons, signs of rank, and glittering decorations on their chests and shoulders, and the presiding general, who welcomed him with a precisely measured, disciplined smile and then nodded to the committee member on his right. The latter propped his arms on the desk, stuck his bald head forward, and started asking him questions, the other two watching him closely as though weighing every word he spoke and observing every expression that appeared on his face. The questions were what he’d expected, his officer friends having assured him that the character interview questions were always the same and well known, the whole test being no more than a formality carried out for appearance’s sake, either to exclude radical elements (based on the National Security Service reports) or to confirm the acceptance of those blessed with influential friends. Taha had memorized the expected questions and their model answers and proceeded steadily and confidently to give his answers before the committee. He said that he had obtained high enough marks to qualify for one of the good colleges but preferred the Police Academy so that he could serve his country from his position as a police officer. He stressed that the job of the police was not simply to maintain order, as many thought, but social and humanitarian (giving examples of what he meant). Next he spoke about preventive security, in terms of definition and methods, approval appearing clearly on the examiners’ faces and the presiding general even nodding his head twice in confirmation of Taha’s answer. The former then spoke for the first time and asked Taha what he would do if he went to arrest a criminal and found him to be one of his childhood friends. Taha was expecting the question and had prepared the reply, but he made a show of thinking a bit to increase the impact of his answer on the examiners. Then he said, “Sir, duty knows nothing of friends or relatives. A policeman is like a soldier in battle — he must carry out his duty irrespective of all other considerations, for the sake of God and his country.”