The Automobile Club of Egypt

8

Every day, upon first arriving at the Automobile Club, Abd el-Aziz Gaafar would go upstairs to greet the staff, who at that hour were busy cleaning. The cleaning staff were all Upper Egyptians who knew very well the repute of the Gaafar name. They felt sympathy for Abd el-Aziz as someone from a good family who had fallen on hard times. He was one of those landowners who, at an advanced age, had been forced into service in order to support their children. The staff looked up to him all the more because his position had nothing to do with their tips. They would seek out his advice, and after considering the matter, he would come up with a measured opinion. He was the most approachable, unintimidating and just authority that they could imagine, and they treated him accordingly. No sooner would Abd el-Aziz appear than everyone would shout out a greeting, rush toward him with a chair, a cup of tea or a glass of ice water, and then chat with him as they carried on cleaning.

Abd el-Aziz loved these morning chats with the staff, and he would often bring some Upper Egyptian delicacies, such as flaky pastry feteer meshaltet or savory qaraqeesh to share with everyone. He really enjoyed listening to their stories and jokes and would laugh as heartily as if he were sitting with his friends after evening prayers in front of his big house back in Daraw. And so it was unusual that that day, when Abd el-Aziz arrived at the Club, he did not go up to greet the staff. He did not have the energy to see anyone. He just wanted to be left alone. He came in through the main entrance of the Club, crossed the hallway that led to the administrative offices and headed straight for the storeroom. He turned the key and the door creaked open. The air was heavy and musty and smelled of wood.

The storeroom was a large, dark space with a high ceiling like the wings of a theater, a gloomy and forgotten backstage world away from the limelight of the Automobile Club. It was an enormous room with piles of everyday and unusual things, things you would expect and things you would not, cases of whiskey of all brands, the best cigars, imported soap, bottles of hand soap for the members’ washrooms, toilet paper, tablecloths, roulette chips, electrical devices, spare parts for bathrooms, plates and glasses of varying size and design, and most important, two categories of playing cards — luxury cards for the members and the royal cards with gold-leaf edges, reserved for His Majesty. His Majesty never used a pack more than once. At the end of the month, all the used royal decks would be gathered and incinerated in a special furnace in Abdin Palace, the ashes removed with the palace rubbish. The destruction of the royal cards was a serious matter, whose execution was supervised by Alku himself. Should one of the royal cards ever make its way to a popular café and be used by the hoi polloi, what would become of the king’s dignity?

Only once in the history of the Automobile Club did a staff member attempt to purloin some of the used royal decks, and it caused a tremor that shook the Club to its core. The culprit was tracked down and dragged off to the office of Alku, who snatched the kurbash down from its hook on the wall and thrashed the living daylights out of the villain. Then the police were notified. They carried out an investigation, and the man stood trial and was sentenced to three years in prison. The message was clear: the gilded royal playing cards, like the “royal” bright red used on the royal automobile fleet, like His Majesty’s special claxon, which could not legally be used on an automobile by anyone else, these all constituted a red line. If anyone dared to cross it, he would be crushed.

Abd el-Aziz changed into his yellow uniform with the shining brass buttons. He made himself a cup of tea and sat on a small seat at the end of the storeroom under the tires hanging from the ceiling. In that gloom and quiet, he felt at ease, and as he breathed deeply, he started to reminisce. He remembered how, whenever he had come to Cairo years ago, it had been a much anticipated and exciting occasion. After his date harvest, he used to come just to get away for a while. He would stay at the Union Hotel in Ataba Square and spend a few days enjoying the delights of the capital. A smile came back to his face as he remembered those times. He asked God for forgiveness and praised Him again and again for having enabled him to carry out the duty of making the hajj before he fell into penury. Perhaps God Almighty had already forgiven him his old transgressions, and what a huge difference between the old days and now, when he had been living in Cairo for five years. He was now a storeroom assistant and was now one, furthermore, reduced to begging in order to pay for his children’s education. Oh God, what had he ever done to deserve this ordeal? He could not complain about God’s judgment, but he did wonder when these travails would end. A man could cope with catastrophe in his younger years, as God might later recompense him with some prosperity, but that he should find himself in such misery in his fifties! But if it was his lot that this ordeal should continue, he prayed that it should at least end sooner rather than later. God forgive him, he concluded that death would be more honorable.

After lighting another cigarette, he took a drag and felt such a splitting pain in his head that he dropped the cigarette into the ashtray and grasped his head in his hands. Armies of ants were crawling up his forehead and making their way to the back of his head. He had had headaches like this before. They came every day now, and he had been putting off going to the doctor, not because he was trying to ignore them but because he was terrified of the unknown. These were bad times, and nothing good could come of it. He shuddered to imagine that moment when the doctor would take the stethoscope out of his ears and with a grave expression tell him the bad news as delicately as he could. What would Abd el-Aziz do then? Who would support his children? The best thing would be for him to carry on as he was, a few months longer, until Said got his technical diploma and could find a job. Then if Abd el-Aziz succumbed, at least the family would have some means of support.

Abd el-Aziz heard the door opening and then the heavy footsteps of George Comanus. George was a Greek-Egyptian from Shubra. He was fat, jolly and garrulous and loved telling jokes. All the staff liked him because he never bossed anyone around and had never offended a soul. He had been the storeroom manager ever since the Club was established, spending the last twenty years in this large, dark room. It was part of his life. He had always insisted that he did not need more than one assistant and had worked for years with Beltagi, who was from Sohag. He was a good, hard worker, but God had called the lad to Him. When Comanus needed to find a replacement, some of his friends recommended Abd el-Aziz, and Comanus took a liking to him. He found him a respectful and polite man dressed in neat, clean clothes.

The two got on perfectly from the very first. Abd el-Aziz never once let Comanus down. He learned the ropes quickly and then took on further responsibilities: he started writing down the contents of the storeroom and checking it against the actual inventory. Comanus was pleased with this system, as it enabled him to have up-to-date stock information at any moment. Over time, spending all day together, speaking man to man and sharing personal details, Comanus and Abd el-Aziz became friends. But Abd el-Aziz never mixed work and friendship. They might be sitting having a friendly chat, but the moment someone came with a request, Abd el-Aziz would spring to his feet and wait for his boss to give him orders. Comanus considered this ability to separate working and socializing to be a mark of civility, and it made him grow even fonder of Abd el-Aziz.

One evening, he invited Abd el-Aziz to dinner in the Union Restaurant, opposite the Rivoli Cinema. Comanus was surprised to see Abd el-Aziz order the escalope in breadcrumbs and then eat it using a knife and fork. Abd el-Aziz noticed his astonishment and remarked, laughing, “Don’t be so surprised, boss! Even though I’m an Upper Egyptian, I’ve had treatment for it and can now use cutlery!”

Abd el-Aziz regaled him with stories of his visits to Cairo when he had been well off. Comanus started inviting him for dinner from time to time, and Abd el-Aziz would return the invitation whenever he could. One time, he invited Comanus for kebab in the popular Hussein district. He also started bringing in food cooked by Umm Said, which they would share in the storeroom. She would send mulukhiya with rabbit, or roast duck stuffed with onion and served with creamy baked savory rice.

Today, as Comanus entered the storeroom, Abd el-Aziz sprang to his feet as usual. Comanus greeted him, took off his jacket and pulled on black satin protectors over his shirtsleeves. There was some heavy lifting to be done. Abd el-Aziz went up to the bar and brought back a crate of empty beer bottles. Then he took a crate of whiskey to the restaurant. When he returned to the storeroom, he stood examining the list of instructions Comanus had written up for him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Comanus asked him to make two cups of tea, and when Abd el-Aziz brought the tea, Comanus told him to sit down and offered him a cigarette. Abd el-Aziz sipped the tea and took a drag of his cigarette. Comanus returned to the subject: “You don’t look yourself. Please tell me what the matter is.”

Abd el-Aziz leaned back in his chair and replied in a faint voice, as if talking to himself, “I’m a bit overtired, boss.”

Comanus looked somewhat worried. “What has brought this on?”

“Finding the money to keep my children in school is proving a bit of a yoke around my neck…”

“I told you so at the beginning, but you didn’t listen to me!”

“God knows, I have done everything within my power.”

“You rent a large apartment that costs a quarter of your salary. You could have chosen a smaller, affordable one. Just do what you can afford, and things go easier.”

“Boss, our house in Daraw was four hundred meters over two floors, not to mention the date orchard and guesthouse. After living like that, how could I coop up my children in one room?”

“We all have to live through our share of ups and downs.”

“I couldn’t do that to children who bear the name Gaafar.”

Comanus fell quiet and appeared to be thinking. He felt for Abd el-Aziz. He looked at him, and in his straightforward and well-meaning way, he made a suggestion, “Listen. I can give you an advance on your salary, and you can take as long as you need to pay it back.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I need your help for something else.”

“If it’s anything I can do, just tell me.”

“I want some extra hours. After the storeroom closes, I could go work in the bar or the restaurant. Every extra piastre would help.”

Comanus scratched his beard and said, “It’s not so easy. You would need the authorization of Mr. Wright.”

“Then I can go and see him.”

“Mr. Wright is not particularly fond of Egyptians, and even if he were to give you the authorization, there’s still another problem. In the restaurant or the bar, you’d be working under Alku’s supervision, and he is very tricky.”

“Well, that would simply be a work relationship.”

“You don’t know Alku! He likes to humiliate anyone under him.”

Abd el-Aziz remained silent for a moment, then raised his head and asked Comanus, “Please, boss. Give it a try.”