Egypt Rising

by Stan Schatt

  “Your contract?”

  He nodded.

  “Will he change his mind?”

  “He says it is beyond his control because the Board of Directors told him that they won’t renew the contract because they say there are questions about my ‘scholarship’ and my ‘health.’”

  I knew when Dad referred to his ‘health’, it was a euphemism for his increasing reliance on alcohol. He chose his words carefully.

  “You know more than anyone. You’ve published more than the entire faculty put together!” I said.

  “It isn’t that, although he did mention that many of the senior faculty didn’t approve of my ‘recent focus on fairy tales instead of facts’. The real problem is that some students apparently told their parents my drinking has affected my performance.”

  I’d never seen Dad look so sad.

  “That’s nonsense! I’d know more than anyone. You’ve always been cold sober in class. I bet it’s all Taylor’s fault!”

  “I don’t think so. In any event, I didn’t think he’d change his mind so I’ve been putting out lots of feelers. I’m positive I’ll find something, but I doubt we’ll be able to stay in Cairo.”

  I felt sick because it confirmed my worst fears. How could we leave Cairo? How could I become an Egyptologist if I didn’t study here? How could I even go to an international school if Dad didn’t have any money? I had daydreamed that the Principal would change his mind and admit he’d made a very bad mistake. I’m not proud that I had made Dad feel even worse by telling him about Emily’s infidelity. All I thought about that moment was myself. It wasn’t my proudest moment. We sat in silence for several minutes.

  Dad’s attention turned to the road. He was surprised when the driver turned off the thoroughfare.

  “Where are you going?”

  Mister El Haziz replied while keeping his eyes on the road. He didn’t raise his voice but his words were chilling.

  “I thought it would be wiser for us to take the long way. There is talk of another demonstration this morning.”

  The demonstrations were more and more frequent. Thousands of people turned out to protest the Mubarak regime. Assuma told me her father closed his shop and joined the last demonstration. It stunned me because he was such a quiet man. Assuma explained that while her father hated having to pay bribes to keep his shop open, he didn’t share his son Abdul’s enthusiasm for the Muslim Brotherhood. Mister Nur always adopted a “live and let live” attitude, and he suspected the Islamists led by the Muslim Brotherhood would not tolerate any beliefs but their own.

  Suddenly I saw something that made me shout as the car turned the corner. “Stop the car!”

  Mister El Haziz brought the car to a stop at the side of the road and looked back, clearly taken aback by my command. I pointed my finger to the right where three young men were beating a young woman. I hadn’t done anything when I heard a husband bullying his wife outside Aasuma’s apartment. This was different. I couldn’t sit back and ignore it. I pushed with all my weight and opened the door. I jumped out of the car before my father could stop me. I heard the other doors open and knew Mister El Haziz and Dad were right behind me. I’m not a coward, but I’m not a fool either.

  “Stop it!” I shouted.

  I saw the men look up, and one of them sneered. He wore the traditional student dress of jeans and a tee shirt. His tee shirt had the picture of the Koran and an Arabic expression that I read as “The devout shall triumph while the impure shall perish.”

  I knew I could give a good accounting of myself at least against one of the boys. Mister Tanaka’s lessons gave me enough confidence. I was counting on Mister El Haziz to help with the other two. The three men turned towards me. I heard the driver shout a warning in Arabic. I looked back and saw him drawing a gun from his jacket. The boys turned and fled.

  I walked up to the girl. She wore a head covering, as well as a traditional Egyptian garment that covered almost all her body except for her hands. Her right eye was swelling and soon would become an ugly bruise. Her crying gradually slowed until it stopped.

  The driver whispered something to Dad who nodded and turned to me.

  “We have to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

  I looked around and saw a small crowd of men was gathering a bit further down the block. They didn’t look happy.

  Mister El Haziz pointed to the car and told the girl to get in and that we would drive her home. She nodded and climbed into the front seat next to him and told him her address. When he saw Dad and I were back in the car, he sped off.

  We drove deep into the Islamic quarter. Mister El Haziz followed the girl’s directions, and soon we saw a squalid apartment building near a mosque.

  The building’s paint was peeling, and someone had strewn garbage on the lawn. A group of boys played soccer on the lawn, dribbling the ball around the garbage. The girl thanked us and ran inside.

  “What was all that about?” Dad asked.

  Mister El Haziz spoke without turning around.

  “They were accusing her of being impure. They say they saw her kissing a boy in the theater district. She denies it, but her word isn’t good enough for them.”

  “Will she be all right?”

  I felt that since I had ordered the car to stop, I somehow was responsible for the girl’s future safety.

  “It depends. If her family believes her, they will tell the boys to leave her alone. If her father and brothers believe she did kiss a boy in public, then they’ll deal with her in ways far worse than the boys,” Mister El Haziz said.

  Dad looked at me and started to say something but then changed his mind. He put his arm around me and directed Mister El Haziz to drive directly to the school.

  “I’ll be home a bit late today.”

  “It’s a half day for teachers, as well as, students. I’m hoping we…”

  “I’m sorry, but I have an appointment, Mister El Haziz will take you home directly after school. My gut tells me that things are rapidly going to get worse.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you’ll be fine because you’re going to listen to me and not give Aasuma a ride home for a while. I know how much you love riding together, but that area is not safe anymore for Westerners.”

  “But Mister Nur wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.”

  “It’s not him I’m worried about. Just promise me you’ll do what I say.”

  I promised reluctantly. Then I thought about my friend.

  “Will Aasuma be safe?”

  “She’s a good Muslim girl. As long as no one thinks she’s impure, she’ll be fine. If people see you and her together in that area, they’ll think less of her. So, you’ll be doing her a favor if you don’t go over there for a while.”

  “How long before things get better?”

  Dad asked Mister El Haziz who shrugged his shoulders and then spoke words that shook both of us.

  “I’m afraid we will have a revolution unless the army steps in. Even they might not be able to stop it once it starts.”

  The three of us drove to my school without saying another word.

  Chapter Five

  The university’s international high school held a dinner for students, parents, and teachers every semester. I hated these events, but knew Dad and I had to attend. Taylor and her father sat in the center of the long table reserved for our class. I couldn’t help staring at them because Tom Thornton had achieved the near impossible.

  The security police had released Abdul two days after his arrest as the result of some phone calls the investor had made. I thanked him when he first walked into the room, although he looked a bit embarrassed by all the attention I gave him.

  Assuma and her family rushed to the investor right after I greeted him. Mrs. Nur began sobbing. Mister Thornton comforted her as best he could while Mister Nur kept pumping his hand. Finally, the family retreated to their seats when the program began.

  I looked at the table where Abdul’s class
sat. The boy’s eyes were bruised. He wore the bruises as a badge of honor. His fellow Islamists welcomed him back as a hero, so he acted like he was released because he was too tough for the secret police to break. He gave Mister Thornton no credit whatsoever. Still, Aasuma was thrilled to have her brother back. That convinced me I’d done the right thing.

  My eyes swept over the table set aside for our class. Neguib sat at the far end of the table with his father. The man also was very dark. I wasn’t sure exactly what his official title was, but I noticed that Mister Raza made a huge fuss over him.

  The diplomat walked with a sense of pride that made him seem far taller than his actual stature. He was courteous to everyone, but I thought he radiated a sense of entitlement. The way he strutted made it obvious that he expected to be treated commensurate with his rank. I’d never seen Mister Reza carry coffee over to a parent as if he were a maid serving the King of England.

  Neguib’s mother was fully covered with only her eyes showing. She even wore one of those tin nose guards covering her nose so men would not find that part of her body enticing. I tried on a burka one time and found it suffocating. I hated the very idea of women forced to walk around bundled up like a mummy because otherwise men might not be able to handle any “impure” thoughts they might get from catching a glimpse of a bare neck or a nose.

  Think about it! Probably half of those men had huge noses and bellies, and they smelled like camels. Yet, the world revolved around them. Only they had the power of deciding if their wives could divorce them. If they thought their wives were unfaithful, they could kill them and probably get off with a slap on their wrists. Of course if a man was unfaithful, nothing bad happened.

  I felt like ignoring Mister Raza, but a part of me went into automatic mode and smiled politely. I couldn’t help feeling furious at him for the way he had treated Dad. It was difficult for me to even be polite, but I knew Dad expected me to be civil. I still suspected Taylor was the cause of all this. I had trouble looking her in the eye, and I feared I would lose control and say something that I’d regret.

  I noticed that Kahlu Hamza sat among the Egyptian families along with his mother, a woman dressed in a dark colored tob sebleh. The Colonel’s absence meant I didn’t have to worry he’d say something in front of Dad. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  There were rumors that the army was on alert because of all the recent demonstrations. I spoke briefly to Kahlu, who didn’t mention anything about my time in the police station. I hoped that meant the Colonel hadn’t told his family.

  Paul and his parents sat to my left. I studied his mother and saw she was a bit overweight and heavily jeweled. Did people look at me the same way and just see an overweight girl with a plain face? No one knew precisely what Paul’s father did, but it apparently paid very well. Mister Hargrove wore a very well tailored suit with a fancy silk tie that looked very expensive. He moved like an athlete while his eyes studied everyone. Only he and Dad looked like they were in shape.

  Paul clearly idolized his father and had inherited his looks. I noticed that Mister Hargrove did a good deal of listening and very little speaking. When someone asked him about his work, he answered that he was in the export business but seemed to be deliberately vague. I wasn’t certain, but I believed I saw a slight bulge inside his jacket. I thought of Mister El Haziz and wondered why he was armed.

  I was very proud of Dad because he dominated the room even when he wasn’t speaking. The other men might be very successful in the business world, but how dull all of that seemed! Dad had lived an adventurous life. Natives had chased him, exotic insects had bitten him, and he had discovered long buried relics. I knew he had even killed people to save his own life. He still looked like he could climb mountains and handle himself in any brawl.

  I noticed that Taylor had started a conversation with Paul, and she was trying hard to ignore Dad. Her flushed face made it clear that she wasn’t used to having the Principal reprimand her and force her to apologize to a teacher.

  I watched Paul listening intently to Taylor, peering at her over the thin-framed glasses that made him look so intelligent. Of course he was first in our class and a computer genius and one of her best friends. They seemed to share a private joke. I wished someone at the table would whisper some secret in my ear.

  Just then, Taylor put one hand on Paul’s arm and whispered something in his ear. Paul nodded and smiled. I gritted my teeth and tried to smile as if I was perfectly happy. Perhaps to avoid having to talk with Dad, Mister Thornton started a conversation with me.

  “I understand you go out on the digs with your father. That must be very exciting.”

  It embarrassed me when everyone’s eyes turned towards me. I noticed that Taylor stopped talking with Paul and eavesdropped.

  “I think she just uses one of those tiny brooms to sweep away the dust. We have a maid who does the same job at home.” Taylor said.

  Mister Thornton spoke quickly before Dad could respond.

  “Actually I’m very impressed. I was told Olivia has done real archeology since she was ten. I think it’s wonderful. I wish my daughter could find something as useful to do instead of just buying things.”

  Taylor stared at her father, clearly stung. Her face had turned bright red.

  “You always take her part,” she said.

  Taylor rose from her seat and headed toward the restroom.

  “That’s quite a daughter you have,” Dad said without any warmth.

  “She has a good heart, but she also has a bit too much of her mother in her,” Mister Thornton said.

  He smiled politely, but his eyes were clouded.

  “You talked with Mister Raza?”

  “I’m glad you brought it up. I want to apologize for that. I promise you she won’t be that disrespectful again.”

  “She thinks she can do anything and say anything.”

  Dad’s voice rose and some people at other tables were now looking in our direction.

  “Look, I said I’m sorry. You’ve known me long enough and well enough to know that I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior, particularly against you. There’s not much else I can say.”

  Mister Thornton met Dad’s stare with one of his own. The two men sized each other up. After a while, they both looked away and began eating and talking with their neighbors. I noticed that Mister Hargrove kept looking at his cell phone. At one point, he tapped Mister Thornton on his shoulder to get his attention and pointed to his cell phone screen. The two men studied the screen and then began a whispered conversation. After several minutes, a red-eyed Taylor returned to the table and ate without speaking.

  I looked down the long table. The Nurs sat at the far end near Neguib’s family. Mister Aziz had joined them. In fact, the table was divided almost equally with Europeans and Americans at one end, while Arabic speaking parents and students occupied the other side. The room was filled with a mixture of English and Arabic. I heard the Moroccan students’ parents speaking in French.

  Several people left their seats during the dinner to come over and chat with Mister Thornton. Mister Raza gushed with such flowery praise for the investor’s generous contribution for the Arabic lab that I felt embarrassed because he was sucking up in such an obvious way. Taylor, on the other hand, basked in the praise for her father as if the Principal were praising her.

  When Mister Aziz came over to greet Mister Thornton, he gave him a traditional Egyptian greeting reserved for close friends. He greeted Taylor warmly. I noticed that Dad and Mister Aziz barely nodded to each other. The teacher ignored me completely.

  I left my seat to go over to talk with Assuma and her parents. They greeted me as a family friend and thanked me once again for my help.

  Mister Nur asked me why I never came over to see Aasuma anymore. I didn’t know how to answer, but Assuma told them we both had so much homework that there was no time. The Nurs were relieved. There was excited chatter at the Egyptian side of the table.

  One of the parents
had his cell phone out and showed it to his neighbors. Mister Aziz looked over the man’s shoulder, read the message, and then gave a shout followed by shouts from Neguib and his father. Both Dad and Mister Thornton looked over at the Egyptians but neither said anything.

  I couldn’t stand it. I looked directly at Neguib.

  “What’s happening?”

  Neguib and his father along with the other Egyptians including Mister Aziz were now on their feet. They began moving toward the door.

  “The revolution has started! Everyone is gathering at the bridge! “Death to Mubarak and the SSIS.”

  I knew Neguib talked about the dreaded Egyptian State Security Investigative Service, the secret police unit that followed no laws but its own. As far as I knew, Abdul was never charged with a crime. The SSIS apparently decided to pick up as many known activists off the streets as they could locate at the first signs of a demonstration.

  Dad turned to Mister Thornton.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Given the distance to the downtown area, our house is probably a lot more secure than this place. You and Olivia are welcome to join us.”

  “Dad!”

  Taylor clearly didn’t like that idea at all, but her father ignored her.

  “Thanks, but we’ll be fine. We’re leaving now as well.”

  I noticed that Dad adopted a much gentler tone. It was the first time I had ever heard Dad refer to Mister Thornton by his first name. He always avoided using any name. I followed Dad as we headed towards the parking lot where Mister El Haziz waited patiently for us.

  I looked at my own cell phone but didn’t see any messages.

  “How do the Egyptians know what’s happening?” I said.

  “Someone is sending them tweets. I’m sure we’re not on list of followers for whoever is organizing the demonstration,” Dad said.

  All the Western parents and their kids emptied the parking lot quickly. Even though I was born in Cairo, I felt like a foreigner—watching the city flash before my window as the car sped towards our apartment.