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and which cost him (together with the shirt, the socks, and necktie) fifteen hundred dollars that he paid for gladly with his credit card, keeping the receipts as usual, hoping that he could return them afterward and get his money back (as he had done with his wedding suit). He realized that meeting the president might change his life. He had heard of many prominent personages in the state whose careers were made under similar circumstances. They met the president, he liked them, and their faces made an impression on his magnanimous memory, and so he gave them important posts at the earliest change in cabinets. It would indeed be a turning point in which the smallest details acquired maximum importance: a missing button or one that was loose, or a crooked necktie or shoes that were dusty or not sufficiently shiny—any insignificant detail might give the president a bad impression and negatively affect Danana’s future. Another reason he took such care of his appearance was his attempt to prove to himself that he had completely recovered from what his wife Marwa had done. When he got up last Tuesday, he couldn’t find her. He went through the apartment in a daze, still sleepy, until he finally noticed a piece of paper on the refrigerator door in the kitchen, written hastily in large, uneven letters: “I left for Egypt. My father will contact you for divorce proceedings.”

Danana exerted a great effort to absorb the shock. He said to himself that he had never been happy with her. He could, undoubtedly, find dozens of women better than she. Yes, he would divorce her as she requested, but she should pay the price of the misery she cost him (and his expenses as well). A few days after she ran away, Hagg Nofal called him and started talking about kismet and how the most loathsome permitted thing in God’s view was divorce. Danana replied that Marwa had run away from their home and caused him a scandal, and that he needed time to get over the crisis emotionally. Then he promised to meet Hagg Nofal next time he was in Cairo, and to sit with him man to man to discuss their respective demands. He deliberately used the word “demands” to prepare him for the idea that he was going to demand money. Of course he would demand money: his life, his name, and his reputation were not little toys in the hands of Madam Marwa to play with at will. He made up his mind (motivated by greed disguised as anger) to demand from Hagg Nofal one million Egyptian pounds in return for divorcing his daughter. A million pounds for Nofal was nothing. Danana would purchase a certificate of deposit in the National Bank, and that should fetch him a respectable annual return. He rehearsed in his head: you’ll pay, Nofal, against your will. If you refuse or if your daughter sues me for khul‘, then I’ll show you my other face. I will sully her reputation, you dog, Nofal, everywhere, in such a way that she will never marry ever after. I’ll say that I didn’t find her to be a virgin.

He made up his mind and reassured himself, focusing on preparing for the president’s visit. He thought for a long time about the moment of the meeting. What should he do when he saw His Excellency? How would he stand in front of him? What should he say to him? The president shook the hands of all of those standing in line. When it was Danana’s turn, he rushed and hugged the president and kissed him on both cheeks then shouted loudly in a rural accent, “May God give you long life and victory for the sake of Egypt. I am your son, sir, Ahmad Abd al-Hafeez Danana from Shuhada, Minufiya Governorate.”

Thus he chose to present a comic folkloric act to prove his love for his leader and his authentic Egyptianness. The plan worked. The president looked pleased and the pleasure was immediately transferred to the faces of those around him and they began looking at Danana sweetly and affectionately. The president placed his hand on Danana’s shoulder and said, “So, you’re from Minufiya? That means we come from the same place.”

“That’s an honor for me, sir.”

“It seems you are a peasant to the core!” said the president and let out a loud laugh. The camera flashes captured the moment and Danana got the honor of appearing in a presidential snapshot that would be published in government papers with the caption “Our revered president jests with one of his student sons during his successful historic visit to the United States.”

The president crossed the entrance, followed, two respectful steps behind, by the ambassador, then the others in the receiving line in a semicircle to maintain a respectful distance. The large hall was designed in Oriental fashion, its walls decorated with Islamic motifs and inscriptions, while glittering crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling provided lighting. The hall was originally meant for lectures and showing movies. Today a stately dais for the distinguished guest was installed, surrounded with bouquets of roses. In the back, a life-size photograph of the president was hung. Under the photograph was a huge sign in Arabic reading: EGYPTIANS IN AMERICA WELCOME THE REVERED LEADER. WE PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO YOU FOR MORE PROSPERITY AND DEMOCRACY.

Everything taking place in the hall was carried by video cameras to a huge screen outside, next to the consulate’s main entrance. Guests sat on the auditorium seats, exchanging small talk and laughter, perhaps to mask their tension. As soon as the president appeared they all jumped to their feet and the whole auditorium was filled with continuous applause. Danana gave an agreed-upon signal to a group of students that he had sat in a section of the auditorium to the right: they started a rhythmic chant accompanied by two successive hand claps, as he had trained them. The din kept getting louder until