***
She was sitting on her own drinking mango juice in the garden of one of the more expensive hotels overlooking the Nile, watching the moon rise full. Ali was joining her in a few minutes. He had arrived for her in magisterial fashion at 6.05 and led her very fast to the sleepy backstreet where his uncle had his shop. She had been escorted into a backroom and given an exchange rate for her Traveller’s Cheques a third higher than that of the banks. Ali had then abruptly said that he must go and would meet her at 9.00 after dinner for a drink.
‘What do you dream about?’
She looked up to see a tiny man in his early twenties with a neat black moustache and luxuriant eyelashes. He looked like a little painted doll.
‘Money, I’m afraid.’
‘Ah, don’t we all? May I join you?’ He sat down opposite her. ‘You are here alone?’
‘Yes. Well, no. I mean …’
‘You should not be alone. It is not good for happiness. What are you doing tonight?’
‘I’m having a drink with … with a friend.’
‘Ah, that is sad. I could show you many beautiful things. I could show you my beautiful country. I am a guide but for you, of course, I make no charge. You are free tomorrow?’
She hesitated.
‘You are worried about going out with a strange man? You have no need: I just like to be the good friend. Ask anyone in Luxor – they all know Neri. But there is no problem. We will go with my other good friends here’ – he waved an arm to three young men at a nearby table, who were following the conversation with interest.
She looked over to the barman, who smiled and shrugged. ‘Thank you. I’d like that. I’m going to the Valley of the Kings but I shouldn’t be back late.’
‘Good. He smiled sideways at his companions. ‘You know belly-dancing?
‘I saw it in Cairo. I’ve never tried it.’
‘Then I will teach you.’ He got up. ‘It will be a most beautiful experience. We will meet you here at 9.00, yes?’
He kissed her hand, gazed deep into her eyes and returned to his table. She heard them all laughing loudly.
Ali was not pleased. He came up just as Neri was sitting down.
‘What did that man say to you?’
‘Oh, nothing much. He and his friends have asked me to go out with them tomorrow night.’
‘You must not go. They are no good. That man especially is no good.’
‘The barman thinks they are O.K. I want to go. Neri said he’d teach me to belly-dance.’
‘Belly-dancing is for tourists; it was invented for French imperialists. The real old Egyptian dance is Raqs Sharqi. But that would not be suitable for you either.’
‘I think it’ll be fun. I’ll have spent the whole day crawling in and out of tombs.’
Ali sniffed, and peremptorily ordered a beer. The waiter looked affronted. ‘Then I shall come with you. But first I shall take you to the Magic Man.’
‘The Magic Man? But I thought you hated all that tourist fakery.’
‘He is not fake. He has real powers. He will change your life.’
They sat in silence. She glanced across at Neri and his companions: they looked simply like students on vacation with nothing much to do. They were eyeing her and Ali curiously. In their glances at Ali she thought she detected some hostility.
‘Why don’t you like Neri and his friends?’
‘Our ways of living are very different.’
‘Oh?’
‘They study architecture and engineering in Cairo, but they have no real culture. And they return here only for the summer: Luxor is no longer their true home. They have interest only in the money and the foreign girls and the gambling.’
‘Gambling?’
‘Yes. They have no interest in books. I read many books: Descartes, Plato, Hegel …’
‘What do you want to do, Ali?’
‘He looked out over the river. ‘I? I shall be an inspector in the police. Then bad men like Neri will not be able to take advantage of foreign girls like you. I shall make Luxor a very fine place again.’
Neri and his friends got up to go, but she did not think they could have heard. Ali had spoken quietly.
‘Some Egyptians are very stupid,’ he said. ‘You take good care tomorrow.’
‘When shall I meet you?’
‘I will come to the pension at 8.00. After dinner.’
It was then that she belatedly realised that Ali was unwilling to eat with her because he could not afford to pay.
The Voyage: Edited by Chandani Lokuge & David Morley Page 27
