but by the end of the story, he bowed his head pensively and said, “This is a significant experience: millions of citizens in the richest country in the world live in such poverty. But this miserable woman, in my opinion, is more honorable than many American politicians. She’s selling her body to feed her children while they control American foreign policy to provoke unnecessary wars to control sources of oil and sell weapons that kill tens of thousands of innocent people so that profits in the millions of dollars continue to pour in for them. There’s something else you’ve got to understand: the American establishment is in control of everything in the life of Americans. Even the relationship between a man and a woman is now heavily regulated.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the 1960s our call for sexual freedom was an attempt to have emotional fulfillment away from the control of adults. Now, however, bourgeois conventions have come back with a vengeance. If you want to get to know a woman in America you have to do so through specific steps, as if incorporating a commercial company: first, you have to spend some time talking to her in an entertaining and humorous way; second, you have to buy her a drink; third, you have to ask her for her telephone number; fourth, you have to take her to dinner at a fancy restaurant; and finally, you invite her to visit you at home. Then bourgeois convention gives you the right to sleep with her. At any of these steps a woman can withdraw: if a woman refuses to give you her telephone number or turns down your dinner invitation, that means that she doesn’t welcome having a relationship with you. But if she goes through the five steps, that means she wants you.”
I looked at him in silence, but his sense of humor soon reasserted itself. He laughed and said, “As you can see, your old professor has information much more important than histology.”
It was a wonderful evening. Suddenly I heard a sharp, intermittent buzzing sound. I noticed for the first time the presence of a speaker and a panel with several buttons attached to the wall next to the sofa. Graham brought his head closer to the speaker, pushed a button, and cheerfully exclaimed, “Karam? You’re late. I’ll impose a fine on you.”
Then he turned toward me and said, “This is my surprise for you tonight. An Egyptian friend like you.”
The speaker made a noise that I couldn’t make out. Graham pushed a button and there was another buzzing sound that I figured was opening the outside door. After a short while there stood in the middle of the room an Egyptian man pushing sixty. He had a tall, slim athletic build, gray hair parted in the middle, and typical Coptic features: dark complexion, a large nose, and big round eyes filled with intelligence and sadness, as if he had just stepped out of one of the paintings of the Fayyum Portraits exhibit. Dr. Graham said, “Let me introduce my friend, Karam Doss, one of the most skilled heart surgeons in Chicago. And this is my friend Nagi Abd al-Samad, a poet who is studying for a master’s degree in histology.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Karam in polished English. From the first impression he seemed strong willed, confident, and extremely well dressed: white shirt with patterned sleeves and the designer’s signature on the chest, handsome black trousers, and black patent leather shoes. Around his neck was a thick gold chain bearing a cross, buried in his dense gray chest hair. He looked more like a movie star than a doctor. He sank into the comfortable chair and said, “Sorry I’m late. I was celebrating the retirement of one of our surgery professors with a bunch of colleagues and the celebration just kept going. But I decided to come here if only for a few minutes.”
“Thanks for coming,” Graham said. Karam went on to say in a soft voice, as if talking to himself, “I work so much that on the weekends I feel like a child in recess at school. I want to enjoy it as much as I can and meet as many of my friends as I am able to. But, as usual, time is not enough.”
“What’s your drink?” Graham asked, pulling the cart table toward him. “I drank a lot, John, but I can have a short scotch and soda.” I asked him, smiling affectionately, “Did you learn medicine in America?”
“I am a graduate of Ayn Shams Medical School. But I fled to America to escape persecution.”
“Persecution?”
“Yes. In my day the chairman of the general surgery department, Dr. Abd al-Fatah Balbaa, was a fanatic Muslim who didn’t make a secret of his hatred for Copts. He believed that teaching surgery to Copts was not permissible in Islam because it enabled infidels to control the lives of Muslims.”
“That’s very strange!”
“But it happened.”
“How can a professor of surgery think in such a backward manner?”
“That’s very possible in Egypt,” he said as he stared at me in a manner that I thought was somewhat provocative. Graham intervened. “Until when will Copts suffer persecution, even though they’re the original Egyptians?”
Silence prevailed for a moment. I looked at Graham and said, “The Arabs mixed with the Egyptians fourteen hundred years ago. We cannot, practically speaking, talk about ‘original’ Egyptians. Besides, most Egyptian Muslims were Copts who converted to Islam.”
“You mean were forced to convert to Islam.”
“Dr. Graham, Islam has not forced anyone to convert. The most populous Muslim country in the world, Indonesia, was not conquered by Arabs. Islam spread there at the hands of Muslim merchants.”
“Weren’t Copts massacred to convert to Islam?”
“That’s not true. If Arabs had wanted to exterminate the Copts, no one could’ve prevented them. But Islam commands its followers to respect the faiths of others. You cannot be a Muslim unless you recognize the other religions.”
“Isn’t it strange that you’re defending Islam so passionately while you’re drunk?”
“My being drunk is a personal matter that has nothing to do with the discussion. Islam’s tolerance is a historical fact acknowledged by many Western Orientalists.”
“But Copts are persecuted in Egypt.”
“All Egyptians are persecuted. The regime in Egypt is despotic and corrupt and it persecutes all Egyptians, Muslims and Copts. Of course there are incidents of fanaticism here and there, but they don’t constitute a phenomenon in my opinion. Religious persecution is a direct result of political repression. All Egyptians are suffering from discrimination so long as they are not members of the ruling party. I, for instance, am a Muslim, but they refused to appoint me to Cairo University because of my political activity.”
Graham played with his beard and said, “Well, let me examine this idea: you mean persecution in Egypt is political and not religious?”
“Exactly.”
“It’s easy for a Muslim Egyptian like you to assert that everything is hunky-dory,” said Karam, itching for a confrontation. It seemed he didn’t like what I said.
I responded calmly. “The problem, in my opinion, is not between Muslims and Copts; rather it is between the regime and the Egyptians.”
“Do you deny that there is a Coptic problem?”
“There is an Egyptian problem, and the suffering of the Copts is part of it.”
“But Copts are passed over in all key posts in the state. Copts are persecuted and they also get killed. Have you heard of what happened in the village of al-Kushh? Twenty Copts were slaughtered right before the eyes of the police and no one lifted a finger to save them.”
“This, of course, is a tragedy. But let me remind you also that Egyptians die from torture every day in police stations and state security headquarters. The executioners do not make a distinction between a Muslim and a Copt. All Egyptians are persecuted. I cannot see the problem of Copts as separate from Egypt’s problems.”
“You are following the well-known Egyptian practice of denying the truth. Until when will Egyptians be like ostriches, burying their heads in the sand so as not to see the sun? You know, John, when I was a new doctor in Egypt, the minister of health came to inspect the hospital where I was working. The director kept warning us not to talk about problems in the hospital. All he cared about was for the minister to think that everything was great, whereas the hospital was suffering from gross neglect. This is a sample of Egyptian thinking.”
“This thinking is caused by the corruption of the ruling regime in Egypt and not the Egyptians themselves.”
“Egyptians are responsible for the regime.”
“So you are blaming the victim?”
“Every people in the world gets the government it deserves. That’s what Churchill said, and I agree with him. If the Egyptians were not willing to accept despotism, they wouldn’t have lived under it for so many centuries.”
