She began to weep steadily.
Effendi, you are too rough with her, said a voice from outside the archway. Didnt I tell you she doesnt know about this sort of thing?
The sobbing stopped abruptly. There was a sharp intake of breath.
Ali, you are disgusting! said Aisha, and stalked out into the sunlight.
First, it was the kuttub. Then it was the hospital. Then it was the Place for Old People. I tell you, theyre determined to get you one way or another. Next thing, it will be the cemetery!
Next thing it will be the mosque. That comes before the cemetery.
It already is the mosque. Have you talked to Sayid ben Ali Abdal Shaward lately?
Not him too! I tell you, theyre determined to get us one way or another. The little weve got, they want to take away! Thats how it always is for the poor man.
A general mutter of agreement ran round the circle squatting round the barbers chair.
Abd el-Rahim is not a poor man! someone objected.
Im not talking about Abd el-Rahim, said the barber, flourishing his scissors. Im talking about us!
Watch it! said the man in the chair, flinching as the blades flashed past his ear.
The barber ignored him and turned to address the assembly.
Dont you see? Were the ones who are going to lose out. Theyll take the kuttub away. Well, youll say, I dont mind that; my children are grown up. But then, what about the hospital? What about the Place for Old People? You will mind that one day!
What about the mosque? muttered someone.
You can always go to another one, said someone else.
Yes, but thats my point, said the barber. You can always go to another one. Your children can go to another kuttub, you can drag your aching bones to another hospital or your old bones to another Place for Old People, but theyll be somewhere else!
Are you going to cut my hair or not? asked the man in the chair.
The barber turned back to him hurriedly.
What will become of the neighbourhood, he asked over his shoulder, if they take all our amenities away?
Its going downhill anyway, said someone. Its been going downhill ever since those Sudanis moved in.
It will go downhill a lot faster if there isnt a kuttub and a hospital, said the barber, declining to be diverted. The Sudanis were customers of his.
The Shawquats have always had that kuttub, said someone ruminatively.
And done very well out of it, said someone else sceptically.
Yes, but its terrible to take it away just when they need it, now that the old mans died.
Theyve still got a piastre or two, Ill bet. I shant be shedding any tears for them.
It still doesnt seem right. Theyve always had it.
The barber swung round excitedly.
Weve always had it. The waqfs were set up to benefit us. And now theyre being taken away. All right, the Shawquats have done well out of it, and so has Sayid ben Ali Abdal Shawad; but were the ones who are going to lose!
Hes cut me! shouted the man in the chair.
Its nothing! Just a scratch!
Im bleeding!
He moved! Didnt he move? the barber appealed to the crowd.
I didnt move! I havent moved at all!
My God, hes dead! said a caustic voice from the back of the crowd.
Owen eased himself out of the circle. With his dark Welsh colouring and in a tarboosh he looked like any other Levantine effendi: a clerk, perhaps, in the Ministry of Agriculture.
Its a bit of the Camels, old boy, said Barclay, of Public Works, that evening at the club.
Camels? said Owen, bewildered. So far as he had been aware, they had been talking about the destructiveness of road development in an urban environment.
Well, Camel at least. Have you heard of the Camel of Destruction? No? Its a figure from legend, a sort of Apocalyptic Beast. At the beginning of the world, or soon thereafter, it ran amok and threatened to destroy everything. And if youve ever seen a camel going wild among a lot of tents youll know that that means everything, but everything!
Weve got past the tent stage now, Barclay, said someone superciliously.
Yes, but we havent done away with the Camel of Destruction, said Barclay. Oh no, my goodness we havent. Just look around you! Beautiful buildings being pulled down, monsters being put up.
Id assumed that was all your doing, Barclay, said the supercilious one. Youre responsible for planning, arent you?
I may be responsible, said Barclay, but theres nothing I can do about it.
In Cairo, said someone else, money is the only thing that talks.
Well, of course, its a complete racket, said Barclay.
They have to submit plans but then if we turn them down, they can proceed all the same. Theres nothing we can do.
Dont you have to give planning permission?
No. Take the Hotel Vista, for instance. Youve seen that big block on the corner of the Sharia El Mustaquat? They sent us the plans. Anyone with half an eye could see they wouldnt do. The foundations were unstable, the retaining walls well! We condemned it on grounds of public safety. The next thing we heard, it was going straight ahead.
There was a general shaking of heads.
Mud for mortar. No wonder they come down as fast as they go up!
And there are still plenty going up!
Not as many as there were.
In the boom of recent years a frenzy of building had overtaken the city. Rows of houses were pulled down; great blocks were run up. And then, when they were only half way up, and neither up nor down, the money had run out. With the general tightening of credit, projects were abandoned all over Cairo, leaving the city looking like one huge derelict building site.
There are a few still going ahead, said Barclay. One or two of the bigger projects where theyve borrowed a lot of money and the banks are pressing them and unless they get something back quick theyre sunk.
Anyone buying up land for the next round yet? asked Owen. When it all starts up again?
No need to do that, said Barclay. Theres land a-plenty. Why do you ask?
Just wondering, said Owen.
Later in the evening he found himself standing next to Barclay at the bar.
Heard anything about any development in the Derb Aiah area? he asked.
No, said Barclay, and I wouldnt want to. Its a nice old part do you know it? Lots of nice old houses. Rabas, not Mameluke its not rich enough for that. Really old, sixteenthcentury, I would say, some of them. Some fine public buildings, too, only theyre very small and tucked away among the houses so its easy to miss them. A mediæval hospital, tiny, but, well, Id say unique. Take you over there, if you like, and show you.
Id like that, said Owen. Next week perhaps?
Id like that, said Owen. Next week perhaps?
Friday? Fine! Itd be a pleasure.
Passing Barclays table later in the evening, he caught Barclay looking up at him meditatively.
I say, old chap, youve got me worried. There isnt anything going on in the Derb Aiah area, is there? Id hate that part to be spoiled.
Im not sure.
The only thing I can think of, said Barclay, is that someone might be being very smart and thinking a long way ahead.
What might they be thinking?
They might be thinking about the new road theres talk of on the east side of the city.
What new road is this?
Its no more than a gleam in the eye, really. But its the Khedives eye.
There are lots of gleams in his eye, said Owen dismissively.
The Khedives ambition to emulate the great predecessors who had done so much to modernize Egypt was well known.
But the money always runs out. Yes, I know, said Barclay.
Itll never happen, said Owen confidently.
Perhaps someone thinks that this time it will.
Yes, but even if it does I mean, that would be over on the east side of the city, or so you said. It wouldnt affect the Derb Aiah.
It might. Thats why I said it might be someone who was looking ahead. They might be thinking that the next road after that would be one thrown across the north of the city to join the Clot Bey. Right through the Derb Aiah.
But that thats so speculative!
Thats how speculators make their money. By speculating.
Its Its
Its unlikely. Yes, I know. Itll probably never happen. But you did ask.
Yes, I did. And thanks for telling me. Though I dont think, in fact
I hope Im wrong. Lets drink to me being wrong. I wouldnt want to see the Derb Aiah turned into a building site.
Cheers!
A thought struck him as he put down his glass.
That other road, the one on the east side of the city: what line would it take?
It would drop south from the Bab-el-Futuh and come out in the Rumeleh, roughly at the Bab-el-Azab.
But that would go straight through the Old City!
Yes.
It would cause a riot!
Barclay looked into his beer.
Ah yes, I dare say. But that would be something for you, old boy, wouldnt it?
Its all right, said Paul soothingly.It will never happen. The money wont be there. It never has been, it never will be, and it certainly isnt there at the moment. And, talking of money he glanced at his watch Ive got to go to another of these blessed meetings. You wouldnt like to come along, would you?
No, said Owen.
You could sit at the back. It would be good preparation.
Preparation? What for?
Sitting at the front. Thats the first item on the agenda for today, you see.
The Mamur Zapt? About time too! said Abdul Aziz Filmi.
The meeting was being held at the ConsulateGeneral, an indication of its importance, as were the people present. Apart from Abdul Aziz, who was the sole representative of the Opposition, there were half a dozen prominent politicians. Owen realized later that they were the senior mentors of the Assemblys Finance Committee.
There was the Minister there, his Adviser, British, so it must be important, the Governor of the Bank of Egypt, British, one or two foreign bankers and Paul, representing the Consul-General.
I dont agree with you, said the Minister sharply. And isnt it anticipating the agenda? I thought we were going to discuss this.
Captain Owen is not attending as a participant member, said Paul smoothly. He has observer status only.
Thats precisely the trouble, said Abdul Filmi. This committees full of observers. No one is actually doing anything.
There, I think, youre failing to anticipate the agenda, Mr Filmi, said Paul. Shall we begin?
The subject of the meeting was the current difficulties of the Agricultural Bank. The Bank had been set up a few years before to address the problems of Egypts cotton-producing fellahin, or peasants. Chief among these was their chronic indebtedness.
They borrowed to buy the land in the first place; they borrowed to buy seed and fertilizer; and they borrowed in order to live when their returns fell short of their costs. The trouble was that they borrowed from local moneylenders at rates of interest so high as to make it virtually impossible for them ever to repay.
The Agricultural Bank was intended to cut through all this. It lent only to Egyptians (the foreign bankers were not too happy about this), it lent only to fellahin and not to rich landowners (the Minister was not too happy about this) and it lent at low rates of interest (none of the bankers were happy about this). However, it worked.
For a time. But then international cotton prices fell, the boom came to an end, interest rates rose and everyone was in trouble. The Bank was in trouble.
Over-lent, said one of the foreign bankers.
Under-secured, said another.
And so, only more so, were the fellahin. A few weeks before, the Bank had started foreclosing on its loans.
Outrageous! fumed Filmi.
Devastating! murmured the politicians.
But fortunately the fellahin did not have votes.
A financial disaster! said the British, who were there, after all, to help the Egyptians avoid financial disasters.
The Bank, in their view, was underfunded. This was not the view of the foreign bankers, however. Nor was it the view of Abdul Aziz Filmi. The money was there, all right. Or should have been there.
Where has it gone?
Costs of the recession, said the Governor of the Bank of Egypt.
Administrative expenses, said the Adviser.
Inefficiency and waste, said the overseas bankers.
Corruption, said Abdul Aziz Filmi.
CHAPTER 3
And what exactly was the nature of Mr Fingaris work? asked Owen.
The Under-Secretary, behind his desk, began to shuffle papers.
His work? Oh yes. Well, very important. This is an important Department, Captain Owen. New, but important. Our budget does not really reflect Of course, you cant do much with £20,000 (Egyptian). Not if you have to cover the whole country. And not with something like Agriculture. But its an important Department.
I see.
We do our best. Of course, with the Khedivial Agricultural Society
The Khedivial Agricultural Society?
Yes. A very vigorous body. Set up by the Khedive himself a few years ago. With the help of some of your own distinguished compatriots.
The Society comes under your Department, does it?
Oh no, no. Quite independent. Private, you might say. And vigorous, very vigorous.
It promotes discussion, I take it?
Oh yes. Very ardent discussion, yes. And also
Yes?
It sells.
It engages in business on its own account?