In October of 2003, Ibrahim was given the Arab Novel Award, an honor bestowed by the Egyptian Ministry of Culture. To the surprise of many in the audience, familiar with his reputation as a dissident, Ibrahim attended the ceremony and delivered a now legendary speech. Instead of a gracious acceptance, his speech was an uncompromising attack on the Mubarak regime. In Egypt, Ibrahim observed, “We no longer have any theater, cinema, scientific research, or education. Instead, we have festivals and the lies of television.” He went on, “Corruption and robbery are everywhere, but whoever speaks out is interrogated, beaten, and tortured.” In view of this “catastrophe” Ibrahim had no choice but to refuse the prize, “for it was awarded by a government that, in my opinion, lacks the credibility to bestow it.” A little less than eight years later, that regime — or at least its chief officer — was toppled. The role of artists and intellectuals in the new Egypt is far from clear. The state’s powers of coercion are formidable and it is possible the old ways of doing things will survive with minor adjustments (increased subsidies for “Islamic” art, for example). But whatever the outcome of the recent revolts, That Smell will remain as an example of self-critical artistry at work in a moment of historical crisis. I hope it may also find an audience in translation.
ROBYN CRESWELL
THAT SMELL
THAT SMELL
This race and this country and this life produced me. I shall express myself as I am.
What’s your address? the officer said. I don’t have an address, I said. He looked at me, surprised. Then where are you going? Where will you live? I don’t know, I said. I don’t have anyone. He said, I can’t let you go like that. I used to live by myself, I said. We have to know where you’re living so we can come at night, he said. One of the policemen will go with you. And so we went into the street, the policeman and I, and I looked around curiously. It was the moment I’d been dreaming of for years and I searched myself for some feeling that was out of the ordinary, some joy or delight or excitement, but found nothing. People walked and talked and acted as if I’d always been there with them and nothing had happened. The policeman said, Let’s take a taxi, and I saw that he wanted to have an easy time while I paid. We went to my brother’s place and he said to me on the stairs that he was traveling and had to lock up, so we went downstairs and then to my friend’s house. My friend said, My sister’s here, I can’t let you in. We went back down to the street. The policeman was getting annoyed. His eyes had a mean look and I figured that he wanted a few piastres. We can’t go on like this, he said, let’s go to the station. At the station there was another policeman. You’re a problem, he said. We can’t let you go. I sat across from him and set my bag on the floor and lit a cigarette and when it was night he said there was nothing he could do. He called in a third policeman and said, Put him in the holding pen. So they led me to a cell with a fourth policeman standing by the door. He patted me down and took my money and put it in his pocket and pushed me into a big room with a wooden bench all around the walls and I sat down on the bench. There were a lot of men there and the door kept opening to let more in. I felt something in my knee. I put my hand down and sensed something wet. I looked at my hand and found a big patch of blood on my fingers and in the next moment saw swarms of bugs on my clothing and I stood up and noticed for the first time big patches of blood smeared on the walls of the cell and one of the men laughed and said to me, Come here. Some of the men were sitting on the ground and one of them had spread a ratty blanket on the ground and I found a little space on the edge and sat there with my chin on my knees. The man with the blanket said to me, Why don’t you sleep? But there was no room for me, so I said, I’d rather just sit like this. Another one asked me, Drugs? No, I said. Robbery? No, I said. Murder? No. Bribery? No. Counterfeiting? No. So the man got quiet and confused and began looking at me with a strange look. I started to shiver with cold so I got up to walk around, then sat back down. I got tired of sitting and shifted my position. One of the men took out a blanket he had folded beneath him and got ready to sleep. I amused myself chasing the bugs scurrying across the floor and killing them. Then I dropped my head abruptly to my chest. I didn’t want them to see my face. They had begun to fall asleep. In front of me, an old man lay on the bench. The policeman opened the door and called over to him, saying, There’s someone here for you. The old man came back carrying a blanket and a pillow and stretched out on the bench, covering himself with the blanket and resting his head on the pillow and soon he was asleep, breathing heavily, unbothered by the bugs. Next to him a man sat looking right at me with his hands shoved into the pockets of his open jacket, which showed his bare chest. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath the jacket. This man let out a strange and horrible howl then stood up and came over, staring at me and laughing in my face and then sat down next to me. He stared into space, confused. He howled. A big young man got up and hit him in the face. The madman raised his arms to protect his face and said, Don’t hit me. The young man hit him and hit him and I heard the sound of bones cracking. He fell down where he was and he was breathing hard and the others laughed. The man with the blanket gathered up the blanket and spread it over himself and a chubby kid sleeping next to him. Before the blanket covered him, I saw the kid’s face. He had pink skin and pouty lips. He was deep in sleep with his knees drawn up. The man spread the lower part of the blanket on top of him, then wiggled close. I watched his arm beneath the blanket moving across the kid’s body, taking off his pants. The man’s leg pressed against the kid’s back. The big young man who had beaten up the madman sat close by. He followed what was going on beneath the blanket and every so often he raised his eyes to meet with mine. Soon the movements under the blanket stopped and the kid got up, throwing off the cover and rubbing sleep out of his eyes while looking down between his legs. I dozed off. I woke up, still sitting. I didn’t see the big young man, then noticed his leg beneath the blanket. He was asleep with the kid in his arms. I stood up and walked around and the blanket twitched and the young man gathered it up, wrapping it around himself, and the kid lay there with nothing to cover his legs and the darkness began to lighten. I watched the early morning light come in and at last they opened the cell so we could wash up. They made the kid clean the yard. The others brought food and had breakfast and the kid came to the door and said, Didn’t you leave anything for me? And the young man said, No. The policeman began to read off names and I heard my name and got my bag and went out and found my sister waiting for me with yesterday’s policeman. He gave me a little notebook with my name and picture in it and my sister and I went out into the street. Do you want something to drink? she said. I want to walk, I said. She took me to an apartment in Heliopolis and I took some clean clothes and went into the bathroom and shut the door behind me and took off my clothes and stood naked beneath the showerhead. Then I rubbed my body with soap and turned the shower on. I lifted my head and fixed my eyes into the little eyes of the showerhead. The water pouring from it made me blink. I looked down and watched the soap and the water running off my body and onto the floor and into the drain. I rubbed my body with soap again and again I watched the water mixing with the soap and carrying it into the drain. I closed my eyes and stood still beneath the water. Then I turned off the tap and used a towel to dry my body slowly and dressed and walked out and lit a cigarette. My sister said, Let’s go to the cinema, so we did. It was a movie about birds that kept getting bigger and multiplying until they became very wild and went after people and attacked children. I got a terrible headache. We went back to the apartment and my sister busied herself with cleaning. She went from the living room to the kitchen to the bedroom while I smoked and kept away from the window. I took off my clothes and stretched out on the bed. The bell rang so I got up and opened the door and it was the policeman who was knocking. Just a moment, I said. I went quickly to my room and brought the notebook and he wrote his name by the date and left. I went back to the bed and threw myself on top of it and lit a cigarette and stared at the ceiling. The policeman came back. I stayed stretched out on the bed without sleeping. I smoked a lot. In the morning I got up and dressed and went out. I bought a sandwich and all the morning’s papers and caught a metro and watched the car doors closing. I was in the car next to the women’s car and I started examining the women one by one. Their hair was combed in a very complicated way and their faces were heavy with paint. I got off at Emergency Station and there was a man lying on the sidewalk next to the wall. He was covered with bloody newspapers and a group of women had gathered in the street, wearing black sheets and waving their hands and ululating over him in grief. I got on a bus going to Mona’s house. Her mother met me and I kissed her hand. She didn’t recognize me at first, then we sat down to talk and I had to tell her about her husband. I said that I had been with him until the end.