Alaa Al Aswany - Chicago

That was too much for her. She stood there, her head bowed, totally still. He said simply, “I’ll help you.”

He went over to her and began to undo the buttons slowly, as if he enjoyed it. She trembled and felt queasy and thought her soul was ebbing away from her, and yet she succumbed to his hands. He undid the bra from the back and dropped it on the table. Her breasts came down as if freed from a shackle. He turned around, his face having acquired a neutral professional expression. He stood behind the camera and peered carefully through the lens, then he went back to her and adjusted the way she stood in order to examine the image of her breasts in the camera from different angles. Before long he sighed and exclaimed, as if resolving a pending matter, “Not bad. Let’s talk a little bit.”

She extended her hand and covered her chest with the shirt, but to her own surprise, she left it unbuttoned. He sat in front of her and lit a new marijuana cigarette whose end glowed intensely before it produced thick smoke. He coughed hard and said, “This is the story, dear friend. There are two adult lingerie companies in Chicago, the Double X Company and Rocky Company. I think you’ve heard of them. Competition between them is fierce, cutthroat, as they say. They compete in promoting bras in particular because they sell the most. Performance levels in the two companies are close to each other, which makes advertising more important. A few months ago, Rocky started a new advertising campaign on cable television using real women rather than professional models. A woman would appear on television next to her real name and profession. The audience would watch her taking off her clothes and putting on a Rocky brand bra, then she would talk about its advantages. Have you seen these commercials on late-night television?”

“Yes.”

“We must admit that it was an ingenious advertising campaign by Rocky, leading to a twenty percent decline in Double X brand bra sales, which meant a loss in the millions of dollars. Double X has asked me to organize an advertising countercampaign. This is a major professional opportunity for me. If it succeeds, my little advertising agency will make it to the top. I’ve given the matter a lot of thought and I’ve come up with a totally original concept for an ad.”

“Emily has assured me that my face won’t appear in the commercials,” said Carol, looking at her friend as if seeking her help.

Fernando said, “Calm down, baby. We can’t imitate Rocky’s commercials. Our look will be totally different. I will shoot you only taking off a Rocky bra and putting on a Double X one. The camera will not show your face. I will show the viewers by your body language how much more comfortable you feel wearing Double X. That’s the real challenge. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. We will run a lot of rehearsals in order to teach you how to express yourself using your body.”

“Why did you pick me in particular?” Carol asked, her confusion turning into a profound sense of disbelief, as if she were part of a surreal scene that would come to an end at any moment, after which she would come back to reality.

Fernando took a long drag on the marijuana cigarette, closed his lips, swallowed and coughed, then said as his eyes turned red, “In this commercial, the body should not be splendidly beautiful because it would place the merchandise out of the grasp of the potential customer. I was looking for an ordinary chest, a chest like that of most women viewers, an average black American chest that is neither an artistic masterpiece nor very ugly. Did Emily tell you about the fee?”

“One thousand dollars for every hour of shooting.”

“You have an excellent memory for numbers.” He laughed loudly then got up, left the studio, and came back soon thereafter holding a small glass, saying: “We’ll do the first dry run. Please leave yourself totally to me. Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a small glass of cognac that will give you courage before the camera.”

She felt the liquid burning her throat. As soon as she put the glass on the table, Fernando took her by the hand and said, “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

We, the undersigned, Egyptians residing in the city of Chicago, United States of America, feel extremely worried about current conditions in Egypt: the poverty, unemployment, corruption, and domestic and foreign debts. We believe that our country deserves a democratic political system. We believe that all Egyptians have a right to justice and freedom. On the occasion of the president’s visit to the United States, we demand the following of him:

First: abrogation of the emergency law;

Second: implementation of democratic reform and guarantee of public freedoms;

Third: election of a national assembly to draft a new constitution guaranteeing true democracy for Egyptians;

Fourth: abdication of the president and a promise not to bequeath the presidency to his son, thus opening up an opportunity for a real contest for the presidency based on elections subject to international supervision.

We sat drafting the statement, Karam Doss and I, at Dr. Graham’s house. John participated with the enthusiasm of an old revolutionary. We translated the text for him and he gave us some important ideas. He said, “The language of the statement has to be precise and definitive. If it is rhetorical or emotional, it will not be taken seriously. If it is too militant, as if it were a declaration of war, it will look like a caricature.”

We added some demands: to release detainees, to do away with special tribunals, and to ban torture. We finished the statement in its final form late on Friday night. I got up early in the morning, printed the statement, and made twenty copies, then began my mission: I had to meet Egyptian students and convince them to sign. During the day, I met five students who responded with useless debate, then refused to sign. The strangest reaction came from Tariq Haseeb and Shaymaa Muhammadi, two colleagues from the histology department who are inseparable (I think they are romantically involved). This Tariq is a strange man, very brilliant, but introspective and aggressive, and he always seems to be in a bad mood, as if someone has just awakened him. He, with Shaymaa by his side, listened to me in silence. I described conditions in Egypt and said it was our duty to do something for change. I noticed a sarcastic expression on his face, and as soon as I mentioned the statement, he interrupted me derisively. “Are you kidding? You want me to sign a statement against the president of the republic?”

“Yes, for the sake of your country.”

“I am not interested in politics.”

“When you go back to Egypt, aren’t you going to get married and have children?” I asked him as I looked at Shaymaa. “God willing.”

“Don’t you care about the future of your children?”

“My children will have a better future if I concentrate on my studies and go back to Egypt with a PhD.”

“Why do you accept that they will live in the midst of injustice and corruption?”

“Would their conditions be better after I am detained?”

“Who’d detain you?”

“Of course everyone who’ll sign this statement will be harmed,” said Shaymaa, her very first sentence. I tried to be patient and to explain, but Tariq got up and said, “Don’t waste your time, Nagi. We are not going to sign any statements, nor, I think, will a single Egyptian in Chicago. Let me give you some advice for God’s sake, don’t go down that road — it doesn’t end well. Concentrate on your studies. Mind your own business and don’t try to change the universe,” he said again derisively and grabbed Shaymaa’s arm and the two left me alone. When I met Karam in the evening, I was frustrated. I told him, “I am close to giving up on the idea.”