Mortal Designs , livre ebook

Mortal Designs
Mortal Designs
Reem Bassiouney
Translated by
Melanie Magidow
The American University in Cairo Press
Cairo New York
This electronic edition published in 2016 by
The American University in Cairo Press
113 Sharia Kasr el Aini, Cairo, Egypt
420 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10018
www.aucpress.com
Copyright © 2010 by Reem Bassiouney
First published in Arabic in 2010 as Ashya’ ra’i‘ by Dar al-Adab
Protected under the Berne Convention
English translation copyright © 2016 by Melanie Magidow
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
ISBN 978 977 416 714 0
eISBN 978 1 61797 724 4
Version 1
To my mother and father
When Carter discovered the tomb of Tutankhamen, he looked in from a small opening he had made in the wall. Lord Carnarvon asked him, full of curiosity and impatience, “What do you see?”
Carter replied, “I see wonderful things.”
Author’s Note
T HE 1919 R EVOLUTION WAS LED by Egyptians against the British, leading to partial independence in 1922.
President Nasser led the 1952 Revolution. He called for the end of aristocracy and socialism, and aspired to become the leader of the whole Arab world. He vowed to fight corruption and give rights to peasants, and he nationalized the lands of the aristocracy. But although he fought for social justice, his regime, like those of the next two presidents, would be on the authoritarian side. At the zenith of his popularity, he was defeated by Israel in 1967. The defeat had repercussions in Egypt and across the Arab nation because of the shock and loss of hope. From 1967 to 1973, Egypt fought the War of Attrition with Israel.
When President Sadat took over in 1971 he called for corrective measures and a new revolution, which he termed the “corrective revolution.” He began releasing political prisoners and promised a more inclusive regime, reversing the socialist movement of Nasser and starting a capitalist economic movement. However, he still ruled as an authoritarian. In 1973, Egypt regained its pride in the October War against Israel, retaking the entire Sinai Peninsula in 1982. In 1978, there was unrest in Egypt, which came to be called the “bread riots.” This unrest resulted from Sadat’s measures to cancel some subsidies on basic foods such as bread. Eventually he had to back down and retain subsidies on bread and other basic foods in Egypt. Sadat was assassinated in 1981.
Sadat’s capitalist movement was not popular with the masses, and corruption started to increase rapidly during Mubarak’s era, in which this novel takes place. The captain refers to the 1952 Revolution and the disillusionment of his generation following the 1967 war. But the novel also predicts a new revolution, termed the “Third Revolution.” The novel was published in June 2010, and the January 25 Revolution of the “Arab Spring” took place six months later, calling for liberty, justice, and bread . . . yet again. The 1952 Revolution aimed at eliminating feudalism, narrowing the gaps between rich and poor, and making education free for all. By the beginning of the twenty-first century, and after years of capitalism and corruption, the gap between rich and poor is both wide and visible. Moving between social classes in Egypt remains very difficult; almost impossible.
The references to ancient Egyptian priests as carriers of knowledge form a key part of this novel. In ancient Egypt, knowledge was sacred, and only priests were permitted to acquire certain aspects of scientific and philosophical knowledge. Finally, some Egyptians still build tombs for themselves and their families, an ancient custom not altogether extinct.
From The Book of the Dead and the Living
T O THE F IRST T HIEF , the one who hastens to take the first step,
I beseech you not to consider tomb robbing, but instead to read the walls.
For on the wall, you would read of the First Revolution, and the Second, and the Third.
From the wall, you would learn how love possesses hearts.
On the wall, a person dies, and is resurrected time after time.
In our land, we do not choose the grave.
We have no way out in our book.
In our land, you read your book with your hands tied, searching for the grave forevermore.
In our land is revealed the wonder of all things.
One
“F ORGIVE ME , I KNOW YOU don’t make social calls, especially not for a company client. But as you see, I’m on the verge of dying.” The captain paused a moment, watching the woman who moved about in front of him. Turning to his guest, he continued: “Let’s talk about building a tomb. I’ve been afraid of the dark my whole life. Nothing can conquer the dark but the fair, tender arms of a woman who wants to enfold you, and makes you shake like an oar in the hand of a drunk. But I know I won’t be meeting any woman in the grave, and nothing will be enfolding me but the dirt. No money, no desire, nothing. The end, my friend.
“Look at her, her hips swinging before you, just asking for it. A woman has no flavor before she turns forty. She’ll never satisfy you until she’s forty. What do we do in this world but eat and be eaten? What could surpass a woman in her forties, like this one, consuming me? That’s how she looks, with her bosom just screaming desperation and thighs looking for an ample, lofty, strong sail.”
Hazim Shafiq stood in disdain, and said, “I thought you wanted me for something important.”
Captain Murad grasped his hand. “Have a seat. There is no greater basis for friendship than exchanging the secrets of love and life. In fact”—Murad leaned in and whispered in his ear—“from my long experience, I can tell you that nothing brings two men together like sharing the love of one woman.”
Hazim opened his mouth in exasperation, but tried to sound calm. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”
“Death is on the threshold, and I need your help.”
“To have a relationship with this—this—” For the first time, he looked at the woman moving industriously about in front of him. “Is she your maid?”
“Give me some credit. Maids don’t do it for me.”
Hazim looked again. She was tall and fair, wearing a traditional loose black dress with long, embroidered sleeves and a red silk headscarf, its end flowing past her shoulder. He could not see her face, or even make out the outline of her body under the loose dress.
“Is she your grandchildren’s governess?”
The captain laughed. “A fellaha—a village girl! Would I get a peasant to teach my grandchildren? Their teacher speaks three languages, though not Arabic—she doesn’t need it.”
Looking at his watch, Hazim asked, “What do you need from me?”
Murad surveyed him with big eyes. “You lost interest in her so quickly. You’ve never pursued a woman, have you? A different generation; an Egypt I don’t know. We used to pursue women like sharks in mating season. Seeing a woman’s eyes, a woman’s lips, even a woman’s eyelashes would set us hopelessly on fire! That time has passed—the time when men dreamed of revolution, land, industry, life. The rulers misled us and deceived us. The ship sank. The treasure disappeared. Or maybe there never was any treasure. Who knows?” Murad paused for a moment. “Can I ask you a delicate question?”
“No.”
“I have to ask it. Forgive me, ‘no’ never stopped me before. How did the leader die? The one who raised our hopes so?”
It was a familiar and predictable question for Hazim. So many had asked him the same question when he was a child, and when he was a young man. “I don’t know. My father told me nothing about it.”
“Come on! Your father was his personal doctor, and we all know how he died. Hope killed him, or perhaps the loss of hope. Or maybe he longed for a lighted tomb like I do now.”
“You’re very poetic. Do you write poetry?”
“All Egyptians of the revolution write poetry, wandering lost for forty years or more.”
“I’m not one of the Egyptians of the revolution, so I don’t write poetry.”
“You won’t tell me how the deliverer of the Arab Nation died?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll tell you what I want. But tell me the truth, does your sail quiver and straighten for this woman? A fellaha, yes, with the dust of the rich earth, surrounded by the silt of the Nile from before the Aswan Dam was built. You’d be delirious in her arms.”
“Who is she? Your relative?”
“No, how would I know her? My wife’s taken her under her wing and showers her in generosity.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. She’ll do anything to please my wife, but she probably won’t do the one thing that would make her a queen in Egypt and worthy of everyone’s respect.”
“Marry you?”
“Enough of marriage, and the weight of its years. Have an affair with me. I could make her dreams come true in a second. You know what they say about