Suddenly, the woman sitting at the desk – evidently some sort of supervisor – was heard screaming, ‘Enough, you people! Enough chit-chat! There’s no time for that!’
Undaunted, the cheerful young employee retorted, ‘But the lady needs help. She can’t fill in the form.’
‘We’re too busy to help her, or to help anyone, for that matter,’ the woman shouted. Then she was heard mumbling, ‘God, give me patience! Egyptians who can’t read and write Arabic, who can’t even fill in a simple application form in Arabic!’
A couple of applicants muttered something that sounded as if they were commiserating, though it was not clear with whom exactly. Others were heard saying, ‘It’s time for work, not useless talk.’
Mortified and seething with anger, but also full of shame, Mrs T. pretended that she had heard nothing.
‘But the lady is not to be blamed,’ the morose-looking employee suddenly said to everybody and anybody. ‘The olden days are to be blamed!’ Then, to Mrs T. herself, who was still standing behind the counter and hoping against hope that some help would be offered, he said, ‘I would like to help you but, as you can see, the supervisor’s getting all steamed up. Who knows, you might be lucky and find someone in the hallway willing to lend you a hand. If not, come back tomorrow. God willing, I’ll be here, though the way things are going, I’ll probably be ill in bed.’
Mrs T. thanked him, collected her documents and manoeuvred her way through room 52 – without her parasol.
When, later in the day, the jovial employee saw the parasol leaning against the counter, he announced, ‘It must belong to the lady who had problems filling in her form.’ And his bossy supervisor shot back, ‘Can’t fill in a form in Arabic and can’t tolerate the sun! What is she doing in the country?’ To which the young man said, jokingly, ‘Well then, you should have let us fill in the forms for her.’
Once in the hallway, it didn’t take long for Mrs T. to realise that asking for help was out of the question; people were too preoccupied. All that was left for her to do was to force her way through the crowd, along the hallways, down the stairs and into the square, where, sighing a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment, she breathed in all the fresh air she could. Feeling the sun on her face, she noticed that she had left her parasol in room 52. And she immediately took this as a sign – the sign that, no matter what, she must return to the Mugama, endure the wait and the crowds, face the bureaucrats, get her visa and her parasol back. No matter what!
She hurried back home, obsessing over the form that needed to be completed. Who would fill it in for her? Might her husband be willing to do it, if her cousin was not available? It was past nine. To return to the Mugama later in the day would be pointless. She would never make it into room 52, judging by the size of the crowd still waiting outside. She would return to the Mugama tomorrow. She would make sure to be there even earlier than she had been that morning.
As soon as she stepped into her apartment, the maid, part of the household for over twenty years, came running to the door, screaming, ‘Thank God, you’re back early! Thank God! The master’s been taken ill! Very ill! The doctor is in his room right now.’
No sooner had the maid finished saying this, than Mrs T.’s sister-in-law walked into the hall where Mrs T. and the maid were still standing. ‘He had a stroke,’ the sister-in-law declared accusingly. ‘Just like that! Soon after you left this morning!’ Then, her sister-in-law asked Mrs T. with unconcealed bitterness, ‘And did you get that visa?’
The question triggered very unpleasant feelings in Mrs T, who heard herself burst out, ‘What does it matter if I did? I couldn’t leave now anyway, could I?’ It stunned her that she should be capable of such a harsh answer. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Though not understanding the meaning of the exchange, spoken in French, the maid sensed the tension between the two women and, trying to calm things down, she urged Mrs T., ‘Don’t get so upset, things will be alright. God is with you.’
Mrs T. walked towards her husband’s bedroom with the maid beside her. Her sister-in-law held back for a few seconds, then followed them in.
Glossary
Galabeyah
robe-like outer garment
Khamsin
hot sand-laden wind blowing in from the desert
Khan El Khalili
large souk in Islamic Cairo
Khawaga
a Westerner or someone perceived as a Westerner
Mugama
a building on Midan El Tahrir (‘Liberation Square’) in which a wide range of governmental services are provided
Mukwagi
clothes ironer
Olla
clay water jar
Thanawiya
Secondary Certificate School Examination
Cairo Stories Page 18