By Dr.Mohsen Kheder
Translated by Dr. Salwa Gouda
His wife is in her usual nap sleep. He’s finally going to do it tonight. He wrapped his scarf around his neck. Clicked twice on his daughter’s room in preparation for the move.
He wrote in German” I’ll be back late tonight” . Ich komme heute Abend spat zuruck. Left the pen hesitant, grabbed it again and completed “I will take Olma with me”.
They drove the car from the chalet in Hurghada on their way to Cairo. He kept resisting the idea for a whole week, and on the last day of the referendum, he decided to do it, when he told them of his decision, his daughter insisted to accompany him.
His daughter inherited the beauty of her German mother, but she also inherited his genes and the Egyptian spirit to a surprising degree. Throwing a side glance towards her, he thanks God that she did not inherit his sharp features, rough hair, and indigo tan. Olma inherited his gestures and tilt of head and when he unconsciously wipes the right side of his hair with his large shoulders, and she has the same shrug of the shoulders when nothing is decided.
He wrote his national Id number in a phone message and forwarded it to a number he heard from the radio. The response came with a statement from the headquarters of his electoral commission. He read with a surprise gesture. “Saqr Quraish Experimental School in Ghamra,” It is his old school!
He finally arrived Cairo. He felt a tension throughout his body as he was turning to the beginning of Ahmed Lotfi Al Sayed Street in Abbasiya Square. They arrived at Ghamra and wrapped with the fence of Ramses College for Girls and turned again towards Ramses Street in the opposite direction towards Abbasiya.
We arrived!
He turned the car off and walked slowly towards the school, about 40 years ago since he left it after the end of primary level, there are police and army soldiers standing at the entrance, asking an administrator sitting at a side table: “Committee 43?” “Second floor”, he answered
He climbed the school stairs like he did in the past. He didn’t jump as he used to, but rather he slowed down. He felt a melancholy when he noticed that the backyard had been swallowed up by many buildings. The front yard remained the same but paved. He regained the prestigious memory of the morning queue run by Mr. Fouad, a mathematics teacher, with his tall slender body. The flag disappeared from the sari.
The voice of the old national Anthem echoed in his mind, Walla Zaman Ya Selahy. He repeats it inside himself: ‘the land of redemption, my country, the land of guidance and neutrality. I would redeem you from every enemy. Nasser, freedom. Nasser, patriotism. He remembered also Allahu Akbar-God is the Great.
Slowly advanced towards the polling commission. Another surprise! The same old class, number 2/2 and 5/6. He presented his ID and the official reviewed his name in the lists. The smell of the old paint broke into his olfactory memory. He spent three months at Sidi Kamal School in the old palace of one of the princes in Al Sakakini district before transferring to the new school overlooking Ramses Street.
The deep vocal of his teacher Miss Bamba Khalil echoed in his ears. ‘Applaud him,’ the phrase was repeated dozens of times over these years, in which the seed was planted in the foreground, and an enthusiasm sparkled like a fire lit in the gas-filled bottle, predicting it:
“The future is yours; you will be a star.” She said.
Looking at the map of the Arab world and the image of President Jamal on the side of the blackboard, he restored the faces of his classmates in order: Sawsan Farouk, Sheikh Taha Abdul Khaleq, Najib Shafiq, Majida Ismail, Nadia Salaheddine, Omima Khamis and Ghazi al-Alimi, was Sawsan at the time the center of the world and its splendor?
He left the school confused.
They entered Alnozha street from its beginning by the end of the school fence. The eyes haunted the street landmarks carved in memory. The private school of Elmoasa-consolation or Alboaasaa – The Wretched as they use to joke about, disappeared, and a new building was erected
The pickling lab of Aboud Eltorshagy, which occupied a large area before, now narrowed inside the factory, and he had to ask about him. The restaurant of the two rival brothers Wadei and Fawzy evaporated. Om Salah, the flour seller, died. Nofal Library was still standing, and he saw its elegant owner inside. The grocery of Ali Keefak was in its place despite the strange faces. He thought of sitting in Elsheshaee café, but he changed his mind as he did not recognize any familiar face. Finally, he saw Annoose ‘s library. His giant body structure topped by his big kind eyes gave him a real considerable prestige. He approached him hesitantly. The man answered him in his Shami dialect, and his wife was following the conversation. He introduced himself trying to look for the old giant who was famous for his cheap prices, and his luminous smile. There was nothing left of the old look of the man except a physique that resisted time and disease, and the old line of friendliness glimpsed in his eyes.
They delved to Suleiman Abaza Street, Al-Shami’s bakery closed its doors after the death of its left-wing owner, who has been detained in the distant past. The nearby municipal bakery was dwarfed after the death of its two brothers Sayed and Imam.
They went to Ali Rizk’s café. Trying to smell its past fragrance. The father and his son Rizk passed away. Risk was one of his dearest friends. He reached the only son left who welcomed him in tenderness and attention, and they recalled memories of the old days.
Olma was observing the place surprisingly. It’s like a legendary scene.
He snatched his eyesight to the place of the nearby Greek grocery store of Khawaja Philippe. He chased a smile as Philippe used to hide the drunkard in a hidden corner of the shop. He watched a lot of famous movie comedians, Humbeka, in the shop, ecstatic and lost. At the right side of the café was his amusement to enter through the door of the shop, rushing out the opposite door, or to mess with al-Khawaja’s white kitten. He summoned a picture of Shamroukh the old Upper Egyptian who was accepting any currency even falsely because of his poor eyesight. They moved to Al Sakakini Street, he regained the rumbling of the old yellow tram in the middle of the street and their jump into and from it as it moved, it was the focus of the place and the source of great pleasure in his childhood. .
They, then, walked to Union Church Street and to Mahmoud Fahmy Street. He stared at the building that replaced his family’s old house.
Was he a stranger intruding in the place at this moment?
After his death, Toto’s ironing shop was closed. He looked right towards the dark garage street, which was the ball court of his childhood. There are no players anymore. The new generations were preoccupied with other electronic games that did not need running and gasping. He pointed to a modern building that he had never noticed before. He said to her: – It was a tile factory whose owner was killed, and we kept freaking out of the demon that we thought was cutting the street out of it in the evening.
He pointed to the back wall of Ghamra school. Here was the stable of the horses of Omar Makram. The school occupied its palace and carried the name of the neighborhood not the name of the owner of the palace. Before he turned around, he saw Saber al-Allaf at the front of his shop, next to the neighborhood mosque, On Friday, the mosque is crowded with worshippers, and Saber al-Alaf the upper Egyptian-Coptic distributed empty sacks to be brushed outside the mosque for Muslim prayers.
They entered the school from a side door, checked the lists and identified his daughter’s number. He froze when he glanced at his mother’s name. Her name is still on the election rolls years after her death. The officer allowed his daughter alone to enter the ballot. She seemed hesitant but he reassured her that it would take minutes.
The school’s landmarks have changed a lot. The courtyard shrank and was surrounded by classrooms. Minutes later, the girl came out cheering as she pointed her glowing finger with phosphorous ink, the first time she exercised her Egyptian rights on homeland. Excited when she spoke happily to him in Egyptian language:
Now I am Egyptian.
Intertwined as if he discovers her now. Proud of her and she is proud of him too. His Olma asks him about many details in his childhood.
She asked him cunningly:
And what about your girlfriends: the neighbors’ daughters?
He meditated on her white complexion and golden hair compared to his brunette skin and his hair. He absorbed his nectar in her details; his soul, his spirit, and his being bequeathed to this little beautiful girl.
They walked till the end of the street at El Sakakini Square,
His older brother scared him in his childhood of the mystery of the palace, he unleashed the arrows of his unbridled imagination about its fabricated history. When he asked him about the wind direction arrow above its roof, his brother’s eye widened, making up a fake story about the enemies’ attack on the palace, and that this arrow is one of the effects of the attack. He, naively, believed his elder brother who had a great influence upon him.
Taking her to the opposite side of the street, they moved around the palace facing Park cinema, which has been transformed into a tower. During the summer holidays, He gave it a weekly visit with his friends. Three films were screened daily starting at sunset and extending to before dawn. They watched Fareed Shawky’s movies, their favorite hero, and in the following days they imitated his battles with the bad guys. He, also, recalled old musical concerts, and his visual memory flashed back their emotions about the screening of Quay 5, The Half-year Vacation and the foreign film Horror in Brazil. They changed their plan during summer, so they tricked to El Tag summer cinema on Ahmed Said Street, famous for its huge crawling lizards, frolicking unchecked over the screen, or going to Victoria Cinema on Port Said Street or Soheir Cinema on Army Street with its foreign films, and there is the summer and winter Rialto cinema on El-Zahir Street, all evaporated now and became traces of reality. Looking for Elbostani casino, and the minibus station next to it, but in vain, it disappeared.
A little confused, whether they went to El-Zahir Police station Street before turning across the stretch of Sheikh Qamar Street or not. He pointed with his hands, talking to himself,” here was the well-known actress Amal Farid living before her fame. On the roof of this building, Anwar Wajdi lived when he was an emerging actor, and in this area lived Farid al-Atrash and Asmahan at the beginning of their arrival to Egypt, here lived Laila Murad, Karem Mahmoud, Sayyid al-Mallah and Najwa Salem.”
It occurred to him to pass in front of his old beloved’s house. He intended to tell his child who had been taken by the scenes, but he backed off. He limped to her huge building overlooking Ramses Street and the other side street. His pulses rose as he passed in front of her building. He recalled the bygone time:
“They’ll get me married. The groom is perfect.”
– I can’t do anything. I have a long time and a long way to go.
– And our love?
-He replied sarcastically:
-It seems that our time is not the time of love.
-Would you give up that simple!
-I’m helpless. And I haven’t started my dream yet.
She left him protesting and revolting. Before she walked away, she turned around saying, “Loss, I don’t deserve this from you.”
Is it 20 years or 20 centuries since the last scene?
She married before his travel to Germany for a scholarship that he received after many attempts, and there was the suppression of her memory, and she no longer came to him except in his dreams. Did he marry the German wife to forget her? Can a new love cut off the last or come with a balm for escape and sympathy?
His German girlfriend gave him everything before and after their marriage. His anger was reduced, and he eventually gained cosmic comfort. She stipulated one condition: only one child. Accepted her condition, his child gave him another joy and a justification for survival and continuity.
He turned behind suddenly. It’s like a muse called him. His old beloved was coming out of the entrance to the building. The lights of the strong lamps clearly covered her face. He almost screamed, and his daughter turned around, following the center of his vision. Hanin!!
Time has frozen at its last image in his memory since the last encounter, the same dreamy eyes, the brown hair drops as a light waterfall, the lover of the old heart. (Her face shone about with a welcome smile resembling a big hug.)
I’m her daughter. Do you know her?
– (He is about to answer: She was my girlfriend, but he turned around to control his impulse.)
-We were neighbors.
. He turned to Olma: This is my daughter. (She Admired her beauty and welcomed us) “hello sir” He pointed to the old place of his residence.
The same tone and frequency that he keeps in his memory for Hanin.
-Mama, God have mercy on her, died five years ago.
– (He prevented himself from recoiling in reverse motion.)
– An accident?
– No, tumor
He found no reason to stay. Olma absorbed a large part of the conversation, gave her a final look, he took a shot of a new memory. His beloved and her daughter looked almost identical, and he’ll be busy in the coming days, perhaps in the years to come, finding the differences between them.
His daughter fondled him. “Dad. Were you asking for an old love?”
(He pressed her palm)
-Yes, an old story, and today it’s completely buried over.
If his wife heard what had happened, she would have only understood it, but his daughter had his affectionate eastern spirit.
They walked across Ramses Street towards the atelier of art exhibitions that he witnessed its launch before his departure.
I felt that Olma immersed in the place with its oriental paintings and was completely overwhelmed . He remembered the old faces that accompanied him to view the attractive atelier paintings, and wondered where these loved ones went: Abdul Aziz, Abdel-Al, Magdi Al-Arif, Tarek Rifaat, Maher Niazi, Omar and Sayed? Can the heart flourish with its beloved after all these gone years?
They, finally, got into the car and headed back to Hurghada road. When the car was looting the Cairo-Suez Road returning to Hurghada, he regained his balance. He got rid of these overwhelming distressful memories, perfectly reconciling with his past, and he felt like he’s being reborn.
He traced the feeling of satisfaction on his daughter’s face, and it seemed that they had the city in their grasp.
