Alaa Al Aswany - The Yacoubian Building

“All credit to you, Kamal Bey — it was your idea.”

“I wanted people to get to know you as a new member of parliament. Praise God, all the newspapers have written about you.”

“God grant us the capacity to repay your favors!”

“Think nothing of it, Hagg. You are a dear brother to us, God knows.”

“Do you think, Kamal Bey, that the television will respond to the campaign and forbid these disgusting advertisements?”

With “parliamentarian eloquence,” El Fouli roared, “They will respond whether they like it or not! I told the minister of information at the meeting of the Political Bureau, ‘This outrage cannot go on! It is our duty to protect family values in this country! Who can accept his daughter or sister watching the dancing and shamelessness that go on on television? And where? In the land of el Azhar!’ ”

“Those girls who appear half-naked on television, I wonder what their parents think they’re doing? Where is the father or the brother of a girl like that, that they allow her to appear in that filthy way?”

“I don’t know whatever happened to self-respect. Anyone who lets his womenfolk go about naked is a complacent husband and the Messenger of God — God bless him and grant him peace — has cursed the complacent husband.”

Hagg Azzam nodded his head sagely and said, “The complacent husband, above all, is destined to go to Hell — a dreadful fate , God save us!”

This conversation acted as a kind of overture, pulse-taking, and sharpening of the faculties, like the warm-up exercises that soccer players perform before a match. Now that any shyness had disappeared and the company was in good fettle, Kamal el Fouli leaned forward, smiled, and said in a meaningful tone, twiddling the mouthpiece of the water-pipe between his fat fingers, “By the way, I forgot to congratulate you.”

“Thank you. On what?”

“On getting the Japanese Tasso car agency.”

“Ah.”

Azzam responded in a low voice, his eyes gleaming with a sudden attentiveness. Then he hung his head and took a slow pull on the water-pipe to give himself a chance to think. Weighing each word carefully, he said, “But the matter isn’t settled yet, Kamal Bey. I’ve just recently put forward a request for the agency and the Japanese are making inquiries about me. They may agree and give me the agency or they may refuse. Just say ‘O Lord!’ and pray for us, for the Prophet’s sake.”

El Fouli let out a loud laugh and slapping the Hagg’s knee with his hand he said, “Get on with you, old timer! Do you think I’m going to fall for that stuff? My dear fellow, you got the agency this week and you got the fax with the agreement on Thursday, to be precise. What do you say?”

He looked at Azzam in silence, then went on in a serious tone, “Look, Hagg Azzam. My name’s Kamal el Fouli and I’m as straight as a sword.” (He made a gesture indicating straightness with his hand.) “I don’t go back on my word. I think you’ve tried me out.”

“May Our Lord preserve your favors!”

“Shall I tell you the bottom line? That agency, Hagg, has profits of three hundred million a year. Of course, God knows I wish you well, but a mouthful like that is a bit much for you to swallow all on your own.”

“Meaning what?” exclaimed Azzam with a touch of sharpness in his voice.

El Fouli answered, looking at him hard, “It means it won’t do for you to eat it all, Hagg. We want a quarter.”

“A quarter of what?”

“A quarter of the profits.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

El Fouli laughed loudly and said, “What kind of a question is that, Hagg? You were born and bred here and you know the score.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say that I’m speaking for the Big Man. The Big Man wants to be your partner in the agency and take a quarter of the profits. And as you know very well… what the Big Man wants, he has to get.”

“Troubles never come singly” is what goes through Hagg Azzam’s head whenever he thinks of that day.

He left the Sheraton at around ten o’clock that evening having agreed to Kamal el Fouli’s demand. He’d had no choice but to agree, since he knew the power of the Big Man, even if he was still seething with rage at the idea of giving him a quarter of the takings. There he was, exhausting himself and slaving over and spending millions on big profits and along comes the Big Man and expects a quarter of the profits on a plate? Foul play and thuggery, he told himself rancorously, making up his mind that he’d do his best to find a solution that would put an end to this injustice.

The car was making its way back to his home in El Mohandiseen when Hagg Azzam turned to his son Fawzi and said, “Go up to the apartment and tell your mother that I’ll be spending the night out. I have to talk to people about the Fouli business.”

Fawzi nodded in silence and got down at the apartment after kissing his father’s hand. Hagg Azzam patted him on the shoulder and said, “Tomorrow we’ll meet early, God willing, at the office.”

Hagg Azzam leaned back on the car seat and felt more comfortable. He asked the driver to take him to the Yacoubian Building. He hadn’t seen Souad for days because he’d been busy with the Japanese agency. He smiled as he pictured her surprise at seeing him. How would he find her? What would she be doing on her own? How he needed a night with her, a night when he could rid himself of worry and wake up refreshed! It occurred to him to call her on the car phone so she could get ready for him but decided in the end to drop in on her without warning to see how she would receive him.

The driver changed his route, and Hagg Azzam went up to the apartment, quietly turned the key, and entered the reception room, where he heard a voice coming from the direction of the living room. He approached slowly, and there he found her, stretched out on the couch, wearing red pajamas and with her hair up in curlers and her face covered with cream. She was watching television, and as soon as she saw him, she cried out a welcome, jumped up, and embraced him, saying reproachfully, “Is this any way to treat me, Hagg? You might at least have called me so I could get myself ready, or do you like to see me looking dreadful?”

“You look great,” whispered the Hagg. He glued himself to her and gave her a hard hug. She felt the jab of his desire and pulled her head back, saying in a saucy voice as she slipped out of his grasp, “My oh my, Hagg, what a grabby boy we are! Wait till I’ve been to the bathroom, and I’ve made you something to eat.”

They spent the night as usual. She prepared the charcoal and the waterpipe for him and he smoked a number of pipes of hashish while she got herself ready in the bathroom. Then he undressed, took a shower, put his white gallabiya on over his bare body, and slept with her. He was one of those men who rid themselves of their anxieties through sex and his performance with her that night was unaccustomedly ardent and lavish — so much so that, when they had finished, she kissed him and whispered, rubbing her nose against his, “It’s the old chickens that’ve got the fat!”

Then she let out a loud laugh, leaned her back against the end of the bed, and said merrily, “I’ve got a riddle for you.”

“What kind of a riddle?”

“Ouff! You’ve forgotten already? The riddle, Hagg. The thing you’re going to do to prove that you love me.”

“Oh yes, right. Sorry. My mind’s full of things tonight. Go on, my dear. Ask me the riddle.”

Souad turned to face him and looked at him without saying anything. Then a broad grin appeared on her face and she said, “On Friday I went to the doctor.”