“Do you really think that?”
His cheeks flushed red. But he continued to hold fast to his outward calm.
“What matters to me is your admission of the actual oppression of Christians in Egypt. It makes me happy that we are in agreement on that point.”
“On the contrary,” I replied. “We are not in agreement at all. There really is discrimination. But you oppose it with reverse discrimination, while I oppose it with the complete elimination of religious division. During the fighting in 1975–76, there appeared among you a movement to remove religion as a category from identity cards. That’s what we need. Secular states, not religious ones, where the place of the individual is determined on the basis of his ability, not on the basis of religion, family or tribe.”
“You mean, abolishing sectarianism?” he said disparagingly. “That’s impossible. The end of sectarianism means the end of religion.”
“I don’t think I can persuade you to come around to my point of view,” I said, with a note of weariness. “What I’m asking of you now is to give me my papers and my passport and to let me go.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that.”
He let out a short laugh. “I didn’t expect that you would get bored of our hospitality so quickly,” he said.
I followed his lead, saying: “What hospitality? I haven’t eaten a thing all day. The room is cold, with no bed, blankets, or light. There isn’t even any water to drink.”
He feigned interest and turned to the old man who had escorted me, saying, “Is this possible? No water?”
The old man muttered something about how he would get me some.
“Unfortunately, today is a holiday,” the young man said to me with a malicious smile. “Shops are closed. Our warehouses are, too. But we’ll make everything available to you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” I said. “Everything is closed as well.”
“That’s your bad luck,” he said coldly.
He nodded to the guard, who came up to me, grabbed me by the arm, and led me out.
Chapter 22
My bad luck was confirmed when the following day arrived without sunlight. I kept my eyes on the skylight, waiting for light and the warmth it would bring. But the sky stayed dark. Soon rain was pouring down in torrents. Drops of it scattered across the skylight, and then collected beneath it on the floor, in a small puddle.
I resisted the cold by continually moving. I avoided thinking about what could happen to me at the hands of the Phoenician and his men. From time to time, I put my ear to the keyhole. But I couldn’t pick out a single sound that revealed that anyone except myself was there in the building.
After some time, there came to my ears the sound of footsteps approaching and stopping at the door. The door opened to reveal the young man who had brought me the urine bucket the day before. On the floor, he put a tray that had on it a loaf of white round bread, a paper carton of milk, and a cup of tea with steam rising from it. He had hardly turned away before I hurried over to the tray. I held the cup of tea in my hands and savored the warmth of its contents. Then I turned to the loaf of bread and milk.
The paltry meal only compounded my desire for coffee and cigarettes. But I distracted myself by walking and jumping, and by a series of waking dreams. From there I quickly moved on to making big plans — a stage known to every prisoner after a period of confinement. I worked out plans to quit smoking and drinking, develop an exercise regimen, live near the ocean, and double the number of hours I spent writing.
Darkness was about to fall when I set about propping up my corner with more cardboard boxes, and then I coiled myself into a ball and my eyes succumbed to sleep.
I entered a deep, uninterrupted slumber that I didn’t emerge from until dawn. I watched the light spread out without leaving my place. But soon enough I moved when the sun’s rays fell on the wall next to the skylight and spread out over it in the shape of a rhomboid heading toward one of the corners below. I stood under the sunny rectangle, looking for a little warmth. Its area gradually expanded, and I was able to put my hair in it, then my forehead, my ear, and my eye.
I enjoyed the warmth spreading on my face, and then my chest. I spent the following hours between the patch of sunlight and the door. Muffled sounds, coming from different directions, were penetrating through it. Several feet passed by it without stopping. But I didn’t lose hope that the person who carried the tray would be here at any moment.
The sun’s heat reached its high point, and then began to recede. I amused myself for a time by hunting a fly that had settled on yesterday’s tray. Finally, I heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. The door opened to reveal the old guard.
He gestured to me to come out, and I obeyed. I had hardly stepped outside the room when I sensed the presence of someone else. Before I could make out his face, a cloth blindfold was put over my eyes and tied around my head. Then a hand on my back pushed me and I walked forward, stumbling. One of them grabbed my arm and pulled me through a long passage. We went up a set of stairs and continued walking. Then we went down a long staircase. It seemed to me as though we were taking the same route as the first time. My idea was confirmed when I sensed that we had gone out into the street.
There was a car motor running nearby. A hand pushed me forward toward the source of the sound. Then it pushed down on my shoulder, and forced me to lean over. My leg bumped against a metal edge. The next moment, I was settling into a car seat between two guards.
The car set out at a normal speed. A little later it doubled its speed. Then I smelled the ocean. I heard one of the people sitting with me say, “Here.”
The car stopped; no one moved. The one sitting to my right lit a cigarette. The sound of the lighter being flicked was repeated a few times. Then the car filled with cigarette smoke. No one said a word.
The silence was total. We seemed to be in an out-of-the-way place. I thought I detected the sound of a car at a distance. I listened closely. Some time passed before I could make out the sound. Gradually, it began to grow louder, until it came to a stop near us. The one sitting on my left moved to open the door next to him and got out of the car. His footsteps receded, then disappeared. A little later, he came back and ordered me to get out.
He grabbed me by the arm as I stepped outside. He walked several steps with me, then stopped. Then he let go of me. I heard the sound of his feet moving away in the direction we had come from.
My heart pounded violently. I thought about putting my hand up and pulling off the blindfold, but I didn’t dare. Then I heard the car I had come in start its motor. I thought about running, or throwing myself on the ground. Then I heard the car take off in the distance.
Several heavy, unhurried feet approached me. A hand reached up to my blindfold and removed it. I blinked several times before I could make out the man who was standing in front of me. He was heavy-set and elegantly dressed, and wore sunglasses.
He touched my arm with his hand, pointed me to a black American car standing at a distance, and said: “This way, please.”
I walked beside him in a daze. We reached the car and he opened the back door, stepping aside so I could get in. Then he closed the door, walked around the car, and proceeded to get in on the other side.
There was a young man wearing similar glasses sitting beside the driver. As for the latter, I only saw one side of a bald head covered by a cloth cap.
“Where are we going?”
No one bothered to answer me. I understood what they wanted and kept silent.
The car passed through semi-deserted streets surrounded by demolished houses. Then the view changed, as we traveled through a high-class neighborhood that hadn’t suffered much destruction. Then after fifteen minutes, the scenery of ruins returned.