Sunset Oasis

'And how are we supposed to know?' I asked.

But without even waiting for a reply from us, he began talking rapidly and enthusiastically. 'Corporal Salmawi came to see me,' he said. 'I mean I was in my office getting ready to leave when the corporal came in carrying this parcel. A boy had brought it to him. Can you guess from whom? Can you guess what's in it?'

Fiona said, 'The curiosity is killing us, Mahmoud! You say what's in the magic parcel!'

Mahmoud took hold of the parcel again and raised it in front of his face, looking at it as he said, 'In it are medicine and a bottle of oil. Who sent them? None other than Sheikh Yahya! He advises Fiona to rub her chest with the oil and cover it with wool all night long. The drink you take first thing in the morning.'

'The sheikh?' I said. 'Just imagine!'

Then I went on doubtfully, 'But he refused to see her yesterday or to listen to anything about her condition, so how can he have chosen this treatment?'

Wasfi intervened. 'I asked that too, Mrs Catherine,' he said. 'Salmawi answered that he noticed the sheikh taking long looks at Miss Fiona's face and listening to her cough.'

'Is that enough for a diagnosis?' I asked.

Fiona interrupted me. 'It's enough that he thought of helping us, Catherine. I was certain that, despite his anger, he was a good person.'

I laughed. 'Of course! Everyone's good as far as you're concerned, Fiona!' I said.

In a sharp tone she said, 'No. Only the good ones. His treatment may help. He seems to be an experienced sheikh.'

'Of course it'll help,' said Mahmoud enthusiastically. 'Their medicines work miracles.'

We all sat down around the table and Wasfi put his bag next to him as he said, 'We shan't be staying long anyway. His Excellency has to rest a little because he will be going out tonight on patrol in the desert.'

'And you too?' I asked.

He replied, a note of regret in his voice,'No. His Excellency wants to go out on his own.'

'One of us has to stay behind at the station,' mumbled Mahmoud.

I started pouring the tea and Wasfi asked, somewhat diffidently, whether his tea could be very weak, and Mahmoud said that Wasfi was very careful of his health and drank tea and coffee only to be polite.

'Maybe he has other ways of passing the time,' I said, and he raised the heavy bag that he'd put down next to him and said, smiling, 'Just reading. I've brought all the books you asked for.'

After I'd handed round the tea, I took the books from him and started reviewing the titles. I found they were the very same I'd brought with me from Cairo — Von Minutoli's celebrated Atlas and the pictures he drew for the temples on his visit to the oasis in 1820, a translation of the book by the

German writer Rohlfs on the oases, and other books I knew. I did, though, find a new article in the British Geographical Journal by Jennings-Bramley on the Western Desert and its tribes. I asked his permission to read it and return the journal after a few days. He said I could take all the time I needed because he had in fact read the article, and had known even before he read it that all Siwa's Egyptian temples, including that of the oracle, go back to the last period of Egyptian cultural revival, just before the Persian invasion, and that the latter had been built by King—

Mahmoud, who was following the conversation with annoyance and boredom on his face, interrupted Wasfi by saying, 'So, according to what you say, Wasfi, while the Persians were getting ready to invade Egypt, we were preparing for them by building temples? Marvellous! The king thought that building the temple was of greater benefit to the country than building an army, even when he knew the Persians were coming. Why not?'

Wasfi looked a little disconcerted at Mahmoud's provocative tone and extricated himself from the situation with the cliche 'Times change!'

I intervened to rescue him and said, 'Mahmoud, to the Egyptians the temple wasn't just a building but a means of protection. It was a symbol of the whole country, its roof decorated with stars like the sky and its floor the Egyptian earth, from which sprouted the plants drawn on the columns, which were themselves towering shoots of papyrus. And the god who protected this land from ruin and enemies manifested himself in the Holy of Holies.'

Making a show of great earnestness, Mahmoud repeated, 'Marvellous! Marvellous!'

He managed to disconcert me too, and I mumbled, 'That's what they believed, Mahmoud.'

There was a moment of silence and then Wasfi asked me, 'I've read that in the later periods they used to worship Amun in Siwa as the god of the setting sun. I know they saw him as being one with the god Ra, god of the sun, but why did they worship him here as the setting sun?'

I said, 'You're right. I read that too and I've thought about it. You know, Captain Wasfi, that the sun, or the western horizon, was the kingdom of Osiris to the Egyptians, the kingdom of the dead and the land of judgement, which the Egyptians thought was located somewhere in the Western Desert. Maybe they considered Siwa, being the westernmost place in Egypt, to be also the last stopping place of the sun before it left this world.'

Mahmoud let out a sudden laugh and said, 'So here Amun became a god of death too!'

'And of eternity as well!' said Wasfi in a voice loud with excitement.

Then he added, in his usual refined tone, 'Eternity, Your Excellency! The western horizon is the world of eternity.'

Mahmoud continued to stare at him, trying to hide his irritation. Then he asked him why he was so interested in these historical excavations when he was a police officer of recognized competence. Couldn't he have found a better hobby or pastime?

Wasfi replied, 'This is no mere pastime, Your Excellency. I am trying to get to know the history of my country and my forefathers. I study their remains and their greatness, which dazzles the world, so that we may learn from them. If I could have my way, I would make teaching the history of Ancient Egypt and its antiquities compulsory in the schools from an early age. They would learn how strong the state was and how well organized the government and that we must become strong like them in order to regain the same glory—'

Mahmoud interrupted him to say, 'But you know that since the occupation the history studied in our schools is that of England only. Egyptian history is banned in our schools now, though of course we could always teach our children the importance of order and strength from the history of England too.'

Wasfi puckered his brow, having decided that Mahmoud was mocking him. He said, 'I think, Your Excellency, that they have banned the teaching of Egyptian history so as to spare the students study of the period of civil conflict and treachery, and thus the pollution of their minds.'

'What treachery are you referring to, Captain?'

'That of Urabi and his fellow mutineers, of course.'

Fiona said, 'Do you mean Urabi Basha, Captain Niyazi?'

'You know of him?' asked Wasfi in astonishment.

'I was young at the time of the revolution,' she replied, 'but my father, like many Irish of his time, considered Urabi Basha a hero for resisting the British occupation of his country. His picture hung in his study and it remained there for a long time.'

Wasfi said, 'Then he didn't know, and you of course didn't either, that Urabi betrayed his sovereign the Khedive and spread anarchy through the country. Fortunately, however, his rebellion ended in crushing defeat.'

Trying to hide her anger, Fiona frowned and said, 'The uprisings of many of our leaders in Ireland against the British ended in defeat but we still consider them heroes. At least they tried.'

'But Urabi…'

Exasperated, and her pale face flushed with anger, Fiona said, 'Why don't we change the subject?'

Then she immediately apologized with an artificial smile by saying, 'Politics always causes rifts. Maybe it's better to talk about antiquities.'