Respected Sir, Wedding Song, the Search

  Then you will open your arms and all evil thoughts and doubts will vanish forever.

  You have become a lady in every sense of the word. Where is that girl covered with salty spray? Where is that pure virgin smell?

  * * *

  *Literally “The Elder of the Alley.” He is a person who has lived for a long time in a particular quarter of the city and who is relied upon by the authorities to assist in maintaining a register of births, deaths, and addresses in the quarter.

  Three

  He rose early, after only three hours’ sleep, feeling surprisingly refreshed.

  Opening the window, he saw a world he had never seen before. The familiar Alexandria scene, the buildings and usual morning sights were replaced by those of an alien world. Even the air he breathed was different. The strange surroundings conjured up an image of his father, the object of his search. Aly Seriakous brought in his breakfast, which he wolfed down hungrily. When the servant returned to take the tray Saber asked him, “Who was the girl sitting next to Mr. Khalil yesterday?”

  “His wife.”

  This was unexpected. With what sounded like shocked indignation he asked, “From Alexandria?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “When did Mr. Khalil buy the hotel?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve only been working here for five years.”

  “Was he married then?”

  “Yes.”

  There was no doubt about it. She was the girl from his past. The old man bought her from that vulgar woman and made her a lady. But he must concentrate on his search, before the money runs out. He left his room and went downstairs, and found Mr. Khalil talking to Mohamed el-Sawi, the doorman. Some of the hotel residents were in the lounge, reading newspapers or drinking coffee, and some were just chatting together. He walked up to Mr. Khalil, greeted him, and asked for the telephone directory.

  Sayed…Sayed…Sayed…Sayed…Aha. Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy. There it is…His heart beat faster. A doctor and professor at the Faculty of Medicine. Now that’s something! He could not contain his joy, and cried out, “It seems that the Almighty is on my side.”

  The old man looked up with his weak, distant look. “It looks as though I shall succeed in what I came for,” Saber continued.

  “Success is a wonderful thing,” murmured the old man.

  Just as you succeeded in possessing that beautiful girl!

  The old man was still looking at him, with mounting curiosity. “I’m looking for a man. Someone who means the world to me,” Saber explained.

  “No one comes to this hotel to stay. They always have some specific mission or particular purpose that takes them a day, a week, or a month to fulfill, then they leave,” said the old man.

  “That’s normal,” replied Saber.

  “That’s why even though they share the same roof and have their meals together, they never get to know each other.”

  “I imagine that your work must be interesting,” said Saber, trying to maintain the conversation.

  “Absolutely not!”

  What about the vicissitudes of fate! The girl, for example!

  He heard footsteps behind him, and she appeared wearing a black skirt and red blouse and, around her head, a white polka-dotted scarf. His heart almost stopped beating. The look in her eyes showed the promise of virgin land! The smell of sea breeze hit his nostrils once more. The doorman stood and picked up a battered gray suitcase. The old man raised his head from the hotel register.

  “Are you leaving now?”

  “Yes, I’ll see you later. Goodbye.” She left the hotel followed by Mohamed el-Sawi. You are truly a mystery, Khalil! That face of yours, expressionless like a death mask. Saber got up with apparent calmness, excused himself, and walked out of the hotel. His eyes scanned the street. There they are! Walking toward the square. He hurried after them, quickly catching up. The doorman turned around, questioningly. With an apologetic smile Saber asked, “Excuse me, Mr. Mohamed. Can you tell me the way to Azhar Square?”

  The woman looked at him with surprise. The doorman started to point out the directions. He pretended to listen, frequently stealing glances. The promising, provocative look was in her eyes. He was about to ask her about the carnations in her hair, the salty sea breeze, and the naked darkness. The doorman had stopped talking. He thanked him and left them. Where was she going with her watchdog? Was he perhaps overly presumptuous? He had always been forward. But perhaps this time it might ruin everything.

  Arriving at the address, he found the doctor’s assistant, who told him that the doctor usually came around noontime. He sat down and waited. Was this the place where his father worked? Fear, despair, hope, anxiety all came crowding in. What would he do if his father denied him? He would fight for his rights to the bitter end! In his excitement he suddenly realized that he didn’t know what the doctor specialized in. He walked out of the waiting room and approached the assistant.

  “Please, what branch of medicine does the doctor specialize in?”

  “He is a cardiologist.”

  “I just wanted to make sure. You see, I’m from Alexandria.” He realized how foolish he must have sounded, but he didn’t care. “Do you have any idea as to the doctor’s age?” he asked.

  “I have no idea,” replied the assistant with surprise.

  “But you can guess, roughly?”

  “He is a professor at the Faculty of Medicine.”

  “Is he married?”

  “Yes, and he has a son, who is a medical student.”

  Now, that is an obstacle! The family will certainly have something to say about the new member coming from the brothels. Nevertheless, he was determined.

  The patients started arriving and the waiting room filled up. His turn came. Anxious and full of doubt, he walked into the consulting room. The face bore no resemblance to the photograph. He sat opposite the doctor and started answering his questions.

  “My name is Saber Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy.”

  “Then you must be my son,” said the doctor with a loud laugh.

  “Actually, I’m not here for your professional advice.”

  The doctor looked at him questioningly.

  “I am looking for Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy.”

  “You are looking for me?”

  “I don’t know. But please take a look at this photograph.”

  The doctor looked at it carefully and shook his head.

  “This is not your photograph?”

  “Definitely not,” he answered with a laugh. “Who is that beautiful woman?”

  “Perhaps one of your relatives? It was taken thirty years ago.”

  “No, no.”

  “You are from the Reheimy family?”

  “My father is Sayed el-Reheimy. He worked at the post office.”

  “Are there any other branches of your family?”

  “No. My family is a very small one.”

  He stood up, despair lining his face. “I am sorry to have troubled you. But maybe you’ve heard of someone with that name?”

  “I don’t know anyone of that name. What exactly are you looking for?”

  “I’m looking for Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy, the man in this photograph, taken thirty years ago.”

  “He might be anywhere. In any case, I’m not an authority on missing persons,” said the doctor in a tone that indicated the end of the interview.

  He walked into the first bar he found and ordered a brandy. He had to start all over again. The telephone directory was nothing more than a cruel mockery. The optimism that had swept over him when he saw Khalil’s wife was now fading fast. He remembered his fruitless search in Alexandria, the registry offices, the local sheikhs. But here in Cairo he knew no one. Perhaps it was best to place an advertisement in the paper. He looked at the old barman and asked, “Do you know a Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy?”

  “Yes, he is a doctor in a building not far from here.”

  “No. Not that one. He is an important person. A man of considerable means.
”

  The barman, a foreigner, repeated the name a couple of times, and then said, “I don’t recall any of my customers with such a name.”

  “Have you ever tried looking for someone without knowing where to start?”

  “A lost son since the war?”

  Saber shook his head.

  “But the war is long over. And everyone’s fate is now known.”

  “Rather lost, than dead.” Saber asked the barman about the Sphinx, a newspaper, and was told that it was in Tahrir Square.

  The paper was located in a large white building. A fountain gurgled in the quadrangle. It reminded him of a villa belonging to a rich Greek in Alexandria, one of his mother’s friends. He walked through the main door and was surprised by a woman beckoning to him. But he soon realized that she was calling a messenger boy who was standing behind him. The boy gave her a parcel and went through another door, leaving him standing in front of her. Slim and elegant. A dark face and deep blue eyes that attracted him. She radiated warmth and confidence. He greeted her and asked for the advertising department. She answered in a pleasant, warm voice, “Come with me, I’m going there myself.”

  He followed her with mixed feelings of admiration, desire, and respect. They entered the advertising office and she pointed to a man sitting at one of the desks. A plaque bore his name, Ihsan el-Tantawi.

  “I’m looking for a Sayed el-Reheimy.”

  “The cardiologist?”

  He shook his head, expecting him to recite a long list of persons bearing that name. But he didn’t.

  “I don’t know anyone except Reheimy the cardiologist, but don’t you know anything about him? What he does, or where he lives?”

  “Not at all. Only that he is a man of means. But I found only the doctor in the telephone directory.”

  “He might have an unlisted number, or perhaps he lives in the suburbs. In any case, an advertisement is the best means of finding him.”

  “Please make it a small advertisement. Let it run daily for one week. Ask them to contact me at the Cairo Hotel by telephone or mail.”

  “We must mention your name in the advertisement.”

  He thought for a moment. “Saber Sayed.”

  The man started filing the advertisement. Saber noticed that the girl had been following their conversation. No doubt the advertisement had aroused her curiosity. Her colleagues in the office called her Elham.

  “Do you wish to state the purpose of the advertisement?” asked Tantawi.

  “No.” After a brief moment he added, “I imagined that he would have a large number of acquaintances, but it seems that no one knows him.”

  “Yours is a strange case indeed,” said Tantawi. “How can you be sure that whoever contacts you is not an impostor?”

  “I’ve got evidence.”

  Curiosity got the better of Elham. “This is really mysterious. Just like a movie.”

  Saber smiled, delighted that she was taking an interest. “I wish it could be solved as easily as in the movies.”

  “At least you know that he is a man of means. How did you know that?”

  Saber was silent. Tantawi interjected sharply, “This sounds like an interrogation.”

  What a charming girl. Perhaps she would take to him. She is a pleasant breeze compared with the roaring flame at the hotel. “Miss Elham, I’m a stranger in your city.”

  “A stranger.”

  “Yes, I’ve just arrived from Alexandria, and I must find this man. Now that I’ve seen you, I feel optimistic.”

  She smiled, a warm, confident smile. He remembered the wine he used to drink in the Taverna with the soft strains of a violin in the background.

  Four

  He left the newspaper at the same time the employees departed. Thinking that perhaps he might get another glimpse of Elham, he stood for a while at the bus stop. The advertisement would take over his search for the moment. A cool breeze was blowing gently; he saw her chatting casually with a group of young people in front of the building. She took her leave from her friends and crossed into a side street and into a small cafeteria called Votre Coin. He followed her without hesitating, and seeing her sitting alone at a table, he walked in and made for the counter. He stopped at her table.

  “What a pleasant coincidence! May I join you?”

  “Please do,” she said without undue enthusiasm. The waiter had just brought her sandwiches and an orange juice. He ordered the same.

  “I hope that I’m not a nuisance. But this is usually the way with strangers.”

  “I welcome strangers.”

  “Thank you. What I meant is that strangers are always overly keen to strike up friendships. It sometimes puts people off.”

  “No. Not at all. You’ve done nothing to put me off.”

  “Perhaps you are going to the cinema?” he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

  “No. We go back to work in a couple of hours. I live at the end of Giza, and you know what public transportation is like. I prefer to take my lunch here.”

  “Do you spend your entire lunch hour here?”

  “Sometimes I go for a walk along the Nile.”

  They ate in silence, Saber stealing a glance whenever she wasn’t looking. Her blue eyes contrasted startlingly with her dark attractive features, altogether a very pretty sight.

  “What do you think of the advertisement?” he asked. “Do you think it will achieve its purpose?”

  “It always does,” she replied.

  He was trying to arouse her curiosity, but she failed to rise to the bait. “The result is very important to me.”

  “Don’t you really know anything about the man you’re looking for?”

  “I’ve got a photograph and some hazy information.” Then, after a moment’s thought: “My father has sent me to look for him. He knew him many years ago.” He saw a questioning look in her eyes. “An old acquaintance,” he added, smiling. “They had dealings together many years ago.”

  “Financial?”

  “That as well.”

  You are trying to achieve the impossible. This girl is the type that can arouse passions. “I’ve never felt like this before,” he said, changing the subject. She raised her eyebrows with a cynical look. “I mean, being a stranger, living on a hope, and of course, your charming presence,” he explained quickly.

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “At work?”

  “That’s one example.”

  “Are you satisfied with your work?”

  “Huh?”

  “Would you give it up and keep house?”

  “I consider this my career, not just a temporary stopgap.” His ideas of the opposite sex were firmly entrenched. They were beautiful, savage beings looking for love and passion, without principles or scruples. His mother and her circle of friends reinforced this idea. However, he did not undress her in his mind, as he usually did with any member of the opposite sex. There was something more to this girl. A certain mystery, a certain magic. Some secret he had never come across before. He would not be able to enjoy her as he had others, savagely, passionately, with an animal lust. She was unique. Something quite new to him.

  “But look at the care you take over your fingernails, for example.”

  Indignation showed on her face, and she said sharply, “What about the care you take over your hair!”

  “Please excuse me,” he said hastily. “I was merely expressing my admiration.” And somewhat apologetically, he added, “When I return to Alexandria I shall take back the sweetest memories of our meeting.”

  “Why didn’t you advertise in Alexandria?”

  “Well, advertising is only part of my search.” He was about to settle both their bills, but she objected strongly. “If you had offered, I wouldn’t have objected,” he said, laughing.

  He noticed that she was looking at his reflection in the mirror on the left-hand wall. A feeling of satisfaction swept over him. Perhaps he had made the same impression on her as he had made on other
women. They stood up, shook hands, and separated. He fought the strong desire to follow her. When he returned to the hotel, he notified Mr. Khalil Abul Naga and Mohamed el-Sawi that he was expecting a phone call from a Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy.

  “Then you are searching for your father?” said the old man, Khalil. “How did you lose him?”

  “The same way that he lost me. And here I am looking for him.”

  “What a strange story,” said the old man.

  “There’s nothing strange about it,” he said, annoyed at the questions. “Please call me if there is a phone call.”

  A young man in search of his father, that’s what they’ll say about him. He picked up a newspaper and sat in the lounge. The telephone rang. Sayed Reheimy, hairdresser from Bulaq, Reheimy the schoolteacher, the tram driver, the grocer. Where is Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy? Why doesn’t he contact him like the others? If he’s dead, where is his next of kin? His funds were being rapidly depleted. The other hotel guests sat around smoking, drinking coffee, chatting. No one noticed him. Thank God. They didn’t read the advertisements. Your money will run out. Where is your father? You are nothing but a pimp and a hustler. Life was beautiful when your mother was alive. Money, pleasure, more money, more pleasure. Fighting for your mother’s name, in vain perhaps. But nevertheless fighting. Money, pleasure, and bloody battles.

  “Cotton…Everything now depends on cotton,” said one of the guests as he looked up from the paper at his companion.

  “But this impending war? Won’t it guarantee our cotton?” asked his companion.

  “It won’t be like previous wars.”

  “That’s true. Nothing will remain.”

  “And where is God? The Creator and Protector of all this?” That’s true. Where was God? He knew of the name. But that was about all. He lived in a world without religion. The telephone vigil continued. Thoughts of Elham and Khalil’s wife flashed through his mind. The breeze and the flame. We need both. If my father doesn’t put in an appearance, it’s back to fear, hunger, and a tainted past filled with crime and sin.