A heavy silence reigned between them and Zaki decided to change the subject, so he rose from his seat, went over to the tape recorder, and said gaily, “I’m going to play you the most beautiful voice in the world. A French singer called Edith Piaf, the most important singer in the history of France. Have you heard of her?”
“I don’t know French to start with.”
Zaki made a gesture with his hand indicating that that didn’t matter and pressed the button of the recorder. Lilting piano music emerged and Piaf ’s voice, warm, powerful, and pure, rose up as Zaki nodded his head to the rhythm and said, “This song reminds me of beautiful times.”
“What do the words say?”
“They speak of a girl standing in the midst of a crowd and then the people push her against her will in the direction of a man she doesn’t know, and as soon as she sees him she feels a beautiful feeling for him and wishes she could stay with him all her life, but suddenly the people push her far away from him. In the end she finds herself on her own and the person she loved is lost forever.”
“How sad!”
“Of course it’s got another meaning, which is that one can spend his whole life looking for the right person and, when he finds them, lose them.”
They were standing next to the desk, and as he spoke he moved toward her and placed his hands on her cheeks. Her nose filled with his coarse, ancient smell and he said, gazing into her eyes, “Did you like the song?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You know, Busayna, I really needed to meet a woman like you.”
Busayna said nothing.
“You have very beautiful eyes.”
“Thank you.”
She whispered this, her face burning, and she let him come close enough to feel his lips on her face. Then he folded her in his arms and very soon she felt the acrid taste of the whisky in her mouth.
“Where are you off to, doll?” Malak asked her impertinently as he crossed her path in the morning in front of the elevator. Avoiding his eyes, she answered, “I’m going to work.”
Malak let out a loud laugh and said, “It looks like the work agrees with you.”
“Zaki Bey is a good man.”
“We’re all good people. What have you done about that other thing?”
“Nothing yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t had a chance yet.”
Malak knitted his brow, looked at her with something like anger, grabbed her hand hard, and said, “Listen, princess. This isn’t a game. He has to sign the contract this week. Got it?”
“All right.”
Freeing her hand from his grip, she got into the elevator.
The student protests had been going on in most faculties since early morning. They interrupted studies, closed the lecture halls, and then started moving around in large numbers shouting and carrying banners condemning the war in the Gulf. When the call to the noon prayer sounded, about five thousand male and female students lined up to perform the prayer in the forecourt in front of the auditorium (boys in front, girls behind), led by Brother Tahir, emir of the Gamaa Islamiya. Then the congregation said the prayer for the dead for the souls of the Muslim martyrs in Iraq. Shortly afterward Tahir climbed to the top of the stairs facing the auditorium and stood there in his white gallabiya and impressive black beard, his voice emerging loud from the PA system.
“Brothers and sisters, we have come today to stop the killing of Muslims in our sister country Iraq. Our Islamic nation is not yet dead, as its enemies would wish. The Messenger of God — God bless him and give him peace — has said in a sound hadith, ‘Good fortune will remain with my nation till the Day of Resurrection.’ So, brothers and sisters, let us say our word, loud and clear, so that those who have placed their hands in the filthy hands of our enemies, polluted with the blood of Muslims, may hear. Youth of Islam, as we speak, the rockets of the unbelievers are pounding our sister Iraq. They pride themselves that they have devastated Baghdad and turned it into ruins, saying that they have sent Baghdad back to the Stone Age by destroying the generating stations and water plants. Now, brothers and sisters, at this very moment, Iraqi Muslims are being martyred, their skins shredded by American bombs. The tragedy was made complete when our rulers submitted to the orders of America and Israel and instead of the armies of the Muslims turning their weapons on the Zionists who have usurped Palestine and befouled the el Aqsa Mosque, our rulers have issued orders to Egyptian troops to kill their Muslim brothers and sisters in Iraq. My brothers and sisters in Islam, raise high your voices with the word of Truth. Speak it loud and clear, so that those who have sold the blood of the Muslims and piled up their looted wealth in the banks of Switzerland may hear it.”
The slogans rang out from all sides, chanted by students carried on others’ shoulders and taken up with huge enthusiasm by thousands of throats:
“Islamic, Islamic! Not socialist and not democratic!”
“Khaybar, Khaybar, all you Jews! Muhammad ’s army will return!”
“Rulers, traitors, men of straw! How much did you sell the Muslims’ blood for?”
Tahir made a sign and they fell silent, his voice rising, thundering with anger, “Yesterday television screens around the world showed an American soldier as he was preparing to fire a rocket to kill our people in Iraq. Do you know what the American pig wrote on the rocket before he fired it? He wrote ‘Greetings to Allah’! Muslims, they mock your God. What then will you do? They murder you and violate your women. They ridicule your Lord, Almighty and Glorious. Do your self-respect and your manhood count for so little with you? Gihad! Gihad! Gihad! Let everyone hear what we say! No to this dirty war! No to the killing of Muslims by Muslims! By God, we shall die before we let the nation of Islam become a tasty morsel in the mouths of its enemies! We will not be shoes that the Americans can put on and off as they please!”
Then in a voice choking with emotion Tahir chanted, “God is Most Great! God is Most Great! Down with Zionism! Death to America! Down with the traitors! Islamic, Islamic. ”
The students raised Tahir onto their shoulders and the huge throng turned toward the main gate of the university. It was the demonstrators’ goal to get out onto the street so that other people could join the demonstration, but the Central Security forces were waiting for them in front of the university and the moment the students went out into the square, the soldiers, armed with huge sticks, helmets, and metal shields, attacked them and started beating them savagely. The screams of the female students rose and many students fell and were beaten, their blood flowing over the asphalt, but the masses of students kept pouring in huge numbers through the gate and many got away, bursting out and running far from the soldiers, who chased after them. These students managed to get past the square in front of the university and reformed at the bridge. Additional platoons of Central Security soldiers fell on them, but they charged in their hundreds toward the Israeli embassy and there large numbers of Special Forces troops started firing tear gas grenades at the students, the pall of gas rising till it covered the whole scene. Then the sound of heavy gunfire rang out.