The Committee Part 2

During this period, he married for a third time. She was a daughter of an Arab oil potentate, known for her strange caprices and escapades. Naturally, considering the slant of the magazine, news about her soon eclipsed news about him. In the following years' issues, I found only brief hints at extensive achievements and huge projects undertaken in various areas of the region, especially after the October War. In these projects, the Doctor was the connecting link between foreign financiers and local consumers.

I felt that I'd gotten all I could out of the women's magazine, and that it was time to move on. When I thanked the library director for his help, he introduced himself to me.

I was surprised, because his had once been a well known name among newspaper columnists. I muttered, "But how? ..."

He answered my brief question, "Ask the one you are researching."

This really got to me and I quickly asked, "Whoever do you mean?"

He smiled, "Don't be afraid ... I won't say anything at all to anyone."

"I'm not afraid. I'm backed by influential circles I'm not at liberty to disclose."

His smile widened, "I wouldn't blame you if you were afraid."

"How did you know?"

"From you. When you have sat in my place as long as I have, you can tell at first glance the nature of the people frequenting the library to examine old volumes. When I noticed you were different, my curiosity was aroused. It wasn't difficult for me to trace the pages you paused at or to deduce your interest in him."

I continued questioning him, "How did you come to be secluded here?"

"An article I published."

I looked at him questioningly and he added, "You can easily look it up."

I told him about the difficulties hampering me in my search through the daily paper for news of the Doctor. He interrupted me, "You will certainly find my article, because n.o.body pays any attention to the newspaper that published it. Besides, I didn't mention him by name."

He gave me the date the article was published and wished me luck. I immediately went to the newspaper. It was an evening daily with limited circulation, which was the reason I hadn't been interested in it at the beginning.

I looked for the article without telling anybody my objective. I stumbled upon it under the provocative t.i.tle with tragic overtones, "Who Is Removing the Trees?"

Under this t.i.tle, the writer discussed the disappearance of trees from Cairo's streets and few remaining gardens. Furthermore, he said that from the orderly way they were uprooted, influential persons appeared to be behind it. He asked whether there was a relationship between this phenomenon and the fabricated crisis in the lumber market, which resulted in inflated prices and a black market.

I recorded the contents of the article in my notebook. Then it occurred to me to take the opportunity to proceed in a new direction. I still stuck with this newspaper, but checked specific places: the social calendar, the business section, and the obituaries, at around the same dates I had previously used as a guide.

I hadn't antic.i.p.ated the amount of information I would come across this way. For example, there was a series of "thank you" telegrams from the Doctor to the president of the country, and another of congratulations to the Doctor from a number of important people. Thus, I learned he had won a seat in Parliament in the general elections.

From a long obituary about some woman related to him by marriage, I discovered an extensive network of relationships linking him to the best-known, richest families and to the individuals holding the top positions in the justice department, the police, the army, the administration, and the world of business and finance.

Advertising, modern man's tool for successful communication, led me to another exciting discovery.

A series of ads caught my eye. They had been published repeatedly on the first page of the paper in recent years, showing French perfume, American cigarettes, and j.a.panese tape recorders. The advertiser's name was left off, whereas usually in such ads, the name of the importer or "agent" in the Committee's language, the authorized local representative, is mentioned.

The incessant work I had recently undertaken stimulated my mind, as was typical. I began to delve deeply into what came my way, trying to deduce underlying motives and relationships. My curiosity was aroused, so I went over to the paper's advertising department. I pretended to be a reporter from one of the foreign economic journals, preparing an in-depth report on ads published by the Arab media about foreign products.

The upper management of the department was too busy welcoming me to check my credentials, especially after I expressed my admiration for the successful jingles which advertised perfume and filter cigarettes. After all, the ma.s.ses repeat them in complete obedience. I won their friendship by jokingly asking who among them hadn't yet switched to filters. This way, I easily got the information I wanted.

I wasn't surprised to learn that the Doctor's oldest son by his first wife managed the local firm that imported these products. I had antic.i.p.ated something of the sort. But I was truly surprised, so much so that I almost burst out laughing, when they showed me the layout of a fullpage ad prepared by that same firm for immediate publication on the last page of all the national papers. The ad promised the Egyptians nothing other than the return of the real Coca-Cola.

I continued visiting the newspaper's premises for some months. The discoveries I made encouraged me to persevere along these lines, especially since no obstacles cropped up.

I came up with a lot of information, several notebooks full. Actually, some of it didn't have any real connection with the Doctor. My interests had gradually and unintentionally expanded to include some general matters. The news items I had previously read now seemed to scroll past my eyes for the first time. It was as though they took on a new significance with the pa.s.sage of time, which allowed me to see all their diverse interconnections.

At the end of each day, I returned to my apartment exhausted, suffering from dizziness and difficulty in breathing. Dead tired, I would climb the seven floors to my top-floor apartment. After I had bathed and eaten, I dozed a little, then got up to work again. I transferred what I had written down in the morning to index cards provided by a close friend who could not hide his pity. I entered the information under the date the article was published, its source, and the most important subject, in antic.i.p.ation of sorting the cards to start the second stage of research. I didn't finish until late at night. I slept fitfully, disturbed by unpleasant dreams consisting mostly of newspaper headlines. Once in a while I had a pleasurable dream dominated by images of scantily clad international beauty queens and movie starlets who had caught my attention from time to time.

Preyed upon by depression, I would struggle out of bed in the morning. My imagination multiplied the difficulties I might suffer after reaching the newspaper building and the obscure dangers that surrounded my work. I wouldn't perk up until I had visualized my successes and the remarkable world that had opened up before me.

Actually, a change had come over me in the last months. Formerly I had been bored with everything. My presentation to the Committee and the pursuit of any opportunity that would promote my talents was only an attempt to renew my interest in life. However, the research on the Doctor soon engrossed me, so much so that I began to dread death and prayed that G.o.d might avert traffic accidents and heart attacks until I had finished it.

One day when I felt particularly run down, I had to put off leaving. I sat and consulted the index cards I had written out. They were filed in a s...o...b..x to make it easy to retrieve what I wanted.

I found I had a considerable amount of material on my main topics. But I was still ignorant of much of the background of some important points. There was no use in checking the Egyptian or Arabic newspapers, since the political and social situations discourage them from investigative reporting. It occurred to me that foreign magazines might help me, but where could I find collected back issues of even one of them?

The friend who had helped me with the index cards suggested I try the library at the American Emba.s.sy. I went to its new location. It had moved there after rioting mobs had burned the old building in 1965. They had been protesting the United States' role in the a.s.sa.s.sination of Zaire's nationalist leader, Lumumba, and its support of Mubutu, the next leader of Zaire, which was formerly Congo-Kinshasa.

At the library I found scattered issues from betterknown American magazines, such as Time and Newsweek. I leafed through them, concentrating on the pages about the Middle East and disregarding the covers and other parts. Because of this, I didn't notice that one of the issues I held in my hand had a color photograph of the Doctor on its cover. I noticed only afterward, when I found myself trembling with excitement as I read the detailed article about him. It was several pages long and chock full of exciting information.

It was one of last year's issues, covering the wedding of his daughter to an Arab president. This was news to me. Our papers hadn't mentioned it. Apparently, at the time, the marriage had aroused a storm of commentary, not only because of the difference in age, which exceeded thirty years, but primarily for its political and economic implications.

The magazine took this as an opportunity to print a brief biography of him: how he came from a poor family, and how fortune smiled on him when the revolution broke out, because he was related to one of its leaders. This connection set him on the road to success by enabling him to get permission for a movie producer to make three comedies on the army, the navy, and the air force. In return he got a share of the take.

The magazine went on to say that once he had acc.u.mulated capital, it was not difficult to double it in a short time. It wasn't his fault that those running the economy, having been carried away by socialist ideas, had tied it up in a way that only special talents and consequently high fees could undo. By means of the extensive relationships he had reinforced through a series of successful marriages, the Doctor profited from removing these difficulties for whomever so desired. But the true beneficiary was the national economy. As an example, the magazine cited his role as a public sector contractor. He steered most of the projects to private companies he co-owned. Whatever the opinion of this practice, he indisputably helped support both private enterprise and the completion of many important public service projects, whose fruits the Egyptians enjoy today. These projects could never have been realized if they had been left up to the public sector.

At that time, the Doctor underwent a rigorous ordeal. The authorities seized him and put him in jail. It is hard to say why, since accounts differ. Rumor has it that he partic.i.p.ated in an attempt to overthrow the government, and some said he had gone too far in advocating socialism. Someone confirmed that he was implicated in questionable financial dealings which were then illegal.

The magazine delved into the various rumors about him, describing them as the price paid for success in Arab countries. Its example was the rumor claiming that he attended the famous party held at one of the Egyptian air bases on the eve of the June War in 1967. According to the article, this rumor didn't mean anything whatsoever, since most Egyptian leaders attended it. As for other rumors attempting to link him with the surrender of the Golan Heights, there was a complete lack of evidence. As proof of his patriotism, the magazine cited his role in the war of attrition, when he won a contract to build gigantic fortifications costing millions of dollars. Rumors continued to fly even while he carried on this n.o.ble pursuit.

The magazine also said that when Egypt was liberated from Soviet domination in the '70s, his life entered a new stage as he transferred his activities to supplying arms, a profession which always yields astronomical profits. He became one of the largest suppliers, and so got credit for the victory in the October War. However, the largest profits resulted from the skyrocketing price of petroleum after the war, and so didn't find their way to his pockets; since he failed to attain them through his own short-lived third marriage, he then tried to succeed by marrying off his daughter.

Although the Doctor didn't stop importing weapons for limited conflicts in the Middle East and Africa, and although he made known, more than once, his resolve to form a strong company of mercenaries, ready to serve anybody willing to pay the price, he nevertheless became an advocate of peace. He worked energetically to import foodstuffs, cars, and airplanes, thus benefiting from the open-door policy. In this connection, the magazine cited the statement prevalent throughout the Arab world, "Even if the Doctor doesn't bake the pie, he's first in line for a slice."

The magazine noted the many colorful stories about him. Take for example, the one about the million uniforms leftover from the Vietnam War, which were donated by the United States Army on behalf of poor Egyptian peasants. They found their way to his warehouses, where they were sold in turn to a number of merchants for the equivalent of six million pounds.

It concluded the article by saying, "One can only admire the vitality and energy of this Arab billionaire. This vitality emerged and left its mark on the last decade. In spite of the price terrorists put on his head after his cooperation with Israeli firms became common knowledge, his energy will undoubtedly last a long time before it withers.

"Because of his age, he now needs artificial and chemical aids above and beyond a face-lift in order to carry out his conjugal obligations when visiting his numerous mansions scattered throughout the Arab world. However, he needs no a.s.sistance in the financial dealings of political activities he manipulates from behind the scenes. Whatever is said about his moral principles, it cannot be denied that the Doctor and his ilk carry the torch of progress, peace, and stability for the region, which has long been disrupted by extremism."

I entered the whole article in my notebook, which took several hours. Afterward, happy, I returned to my apartment and got busy at once transferring my information onto separate index cards, or, depending on the subject, adding some parts to existing cards.

No sooner had I finished than I felt I had completed my preparations. There was nothing preventing me from starting the second stage of the research.

I was inclined to make his biography the backbone of my work: to begin with his family and childhood, then to move on to his school days and youth, and from there to his patriotic activities. I would continue with his rise to power, which encompa.s.sed the three consecutive wars: the Tripart.i.te Attack in 1956, the June War in 1967, and finally the October War in 1973. I would finish with the pinnacle he now occupies in the Arab world.

But I soon perceived the gaps in this program. The information available to me from the first stage of this life was extremely spa.r.s.e. I had not known until now whether his nickname "the Doctor" was supported by a Ph.D., or whether the appellation was a convention, with nothing original or unique to it. The most impor tant thing in all this was that it put me face-to-face with the question that had to be answered, namely, what comes after a climax? The strong relationship between this question and one meaning Arabs give to "luminous," as in "She glows"-the fetus stirring in the womb-is apparent. The significance of the answer itself is also clear, since his destiny is a simple matter after so much study.

I was so deep in thought I didn't sense it getting dark. When I did notice, I lit the electric light on my desk. At that moment the doorbell rang.

As I had mentioned before, I live on the seventh floor and there is no elevator. In spite of the law requiring owners of apartment buildings with more than five floors to provide an elevator, my landlord was able to get around the law quite easily by building the last two floors set back a little, so that they are not readily visible from the street. This way the law was satisfied and so did nothing, no matter how much we residents complained to the appropriate agencies.

At any rate, this didn't encourage anyone to visit me, which didn't bother me at all. On the contrary, lately it was a course of deep, intense relief since I was so overworked. If anyone did come, he would be compelled to climb the stairs. When he got to the top floor, he would be winded and his footsteps would be heavy. The walls were so thin, due to another attempt by the owner to avoid the clearly defined building codes, that while I was sitting at my desk, even before the doorbell rang, I could distinctly hear footsteps.

I had been hearing footsteps for a while. But because I was so deep in thought, it didn't dawn on me until I noticed how many there were. I was surprised when I opened the door and found so many ladies and gentlemen crowded into the narrow hall in front of my apartment.

The stairs were black as pitch because the landlord had removed the light fixture in an attempt to pressure the residents into withdrawing their complaints. Because of this, I couldn't see the faces of the visitors clearly at first. When I recognized the Committee members before whom I had appeared nearly a year earlier, I was profoundly astonished.

My heart beat violently and I stepped back from the door, saying in confusion, "Do come in ... Do come in ... I hadn't expected ... I hadn't expected ..."

This was true. I had never ever imagined the Committee might visit me at my apartment. Actually, lately I had been so immersed in my work I had almost forgotten its existence and the real purpose of the study I was so caught up in preparing.

The Committee members didn't wait for a second invitation. They sauntered into my small apartment and immediately scattered throughout it. They looked closely at its contents, poking around behind and under my bits of furniture. That single woman and her elderly companion went over the contents of the kitchen, which was located opposite the front door. Meanwhile, two of the three high-ranking officers closed in on my st.u.r.dy refrigerator, a product of Egyptian industry in the '60s, and started comparing it with the new imported fridges.

I closed the door and stood there aghast, unable to comprehend. I looked around for their chairman, the one who couldn't see well and only heard with one ear. I didn't find him and concluded that he either hadn't come with them at all, or couldn't climb the stairs because of his age. I did notice the ugly Stubby and his companion with the light-colored eyes. As had happened the previous time, since I couldn't concentrate, and since I was preoccupied with finding an explanation for their unexpected visit, I couldn't tell how many were there.

In a voice I tried to keep steady and resonant, I said, "Shall I make tea or coffee?"

No one answered me. Silence fell. I watched them a.s.semble in front of the rows of books I had placed systematically on the floor of the hallway leading to the bedroom, then rummage through them. I found this a great opportunity-one that hadn't crossed my mindby which they might detect the scope of my study, especially since the books were in several languages and on a wide range of subjects.

Stubby suddenly broke away from the group and, accompanied by his buddy the Blond, headed quickly for the inner room where I worked and slept. I hurried after them.

There were piles of books, newspapers, and magazines all over, but they ignored them, and homed in on the small table I used for writing. There were some files and newspapers on one side and a pile of books with a dictionary on top at the other. In the center was the notebook I had been working on, and beside it the index cards I had been using, along with the s...o...b..x containing the rest of them arranged according to a system I was proud of.

Stubby walked around the table, sat down, and leaned over the index cards, looking them over with interest, unable to conceal his excitement. As for his buddy, he had stopped, stone-faced, to flip through the files and newspapers.

Pulling a large piece of cardboard from between the files, he suddenly said, "What's this?"

He was indicating some pictures cut from pictorial magazines. I had pasted them skillfully onto a piece of paper so that they appeared to be a single picture. The American president Carter was in the center, facing us, looking over our heads, as suits his lofty position. Right next to him was a very small picture of the Israeli prime minister Begin. I had replaced his long trousers with a child's shorts and the two looked like father and son. In a semicircle in front of them I had pasted a collection of pictures of the more prominent personalities of the Arab world: presidents, kings, leaders, intellectuals, and businessmen, genuflecting as if in prayer, thereby presenting us their rear ends.

I answered, smiling, "This is a hobby I engage in from time to time. I cut pictures of famous people out of magazines and glue them onto cardboard, choosing suitable situations. I add other pictures to complete the situations until I get a perfect scene."

He continued looking at the scene with disapproval. After a moment I added, "As you know, there is a whole school of art whose work is founded on a similar basis. At first this appears extremely simple, but to get worthwhile results you have to successfully link originality and novelty on the one hand with profundity on the other."

He didn't say anything, but put the scene aside as though intending to return to it later and resumed looking through my papers.

Stubby now addressed me, not raising his eyes for a moment from the index cards he was giving the onceover. "We never imagined you could collect so much information. It is as admirable as it is unfortunate."

It didn't surprise me that the Committee knew what I was doing, or that Stubby used Arabic, since I was sure the Committee members had mastered it. But his words really alarmed me. I waited anxiously for him to explain what he meant.

He looked directly at me. I discovered for the first time that he was walleyed, which accentuated his ugliness. He went on to say, "We had thought that the obstacles placed in your path would divert you to another subject. In fact, we were in hopes of that, because ... because some of our members pinned great hopes on you."

The blood drained from my face and my eyes hung on his ugly eyes. Meanwhile, abandoning the index cards, he pushed his chair backward.

"You can decide for yourself now, whether to persevere or to change your subject. We don't force anyone to do anything."

"After all this time?" I said in agitation. "The year is almost over."

"This is a trivial point. The Committee has the power to give you as much time as you need," he said forcefully.

I clenched my fists. Triumphing over the disgust he engendered in me, I said in an ingratiating voice, "I've covered a lot of ground and am just finishing up."

One of the officers, who had come into the room during the conversation and so heard part of it, said, "Didn't you think about the significance of what you were doing and its effects?"

Defending myself, I said, "My research was strictly objective. I covered nothing but proven facts and logical explanations. I have almost finished collecting and organizing the required information. I need only distill the important points and weave them into a wellordered a.n.a.lysis."

"This is precisely why we want to give you some advice," Stubby said angrily.

The rest of the Committee members had begun to congregate near me. The two women sat on the edge of the bed, and one of the officers sat beside them. Next to them, another officer sat on the armchair. The third officer and some other members joined the Blond at the table. Others leaned on the arms of the chair, the wardrobe, and the door. Stubby held out some index cards. Among them I noticed the ones with the notes from the American magazines. They pa.s.sed them around in silence, then began to look at me. They formed a semicircle surrounding me.

I faced them again imploringly, "I chose the Doctor after much thought and scrutiny. The selection of the most luminous personality in the Arab world is an exceedingly difficult matter because of the number of countries, the spread of education, the proliferation of communications, and consequently ..."

Stubby interrupted me angrily, "And consequently the existence of many luminous personalities. You admit to it."

I answered heatedly, "We will not find a greater luminary than the Doctor, or anyone with a stronger presence anywhere in the Arab world. It would be enough that the idea of Arab unity is inextricably linked with his name. He is one of its foremost advocates, as is well known. What most people don't know and what I have clearly doc.u.mented is that during this decade, when the demand for Arab unity has declined, he is one of its most prominent advocates and dedicated believers. Even more strikingly, the unity, which was not achieved in the period when its popularity was on the rise, is now being realized even as its popularity declines. This is not immediately apparent to the observer faced with the difference and dissentions prevailing between the various regimes. But when he looks deeper, he finds under that misleading exterior a strong unity, the likes of which we have never before witnessed. That unity, for which the Doctor deserves all the credit, is the unity of foreign commodities used by everyone.

"Once again I emphasize that the doc.u.ments I collected confirm his strong relationship with all the fateful events our nation has experienced during the past thirty years. Today he, more than any person at any time, holds the political threads of the future in his hands.

"It is enough to say that he was the middleman for the huge multinational corporations in providing for our nation the new equipment and inventions that have become part of contemporary civilization, everything from Samsonite briefcases and transistors to electronics and jumbo jets, and from toothpaste and shaving cream to v.a.g.i.n.al deodorant and drugs to increase virility and prowess. And in this context, he created opportunities for the talents of scientists, university professors, and planners, whom Arab regimes take pains to train by the hundreds, but then prevent them from using their abilities, so that neither they nor their nations profit.

"Nevertheless, there is another aspect to the subject. I hope you will be magnanimous enough to hear me out. The Doctor attracted me as a subject. He led me into multiple disciplines. On one hand, this would reveal to you my diverse talents, and on the other, impart to the study itself a dimension that would enrich and enhance its importance to the utmost.

"I was thinking about that very point when you honored me with a visit. I determined that the traditional approach, which entails compiling a biography of a person, must be replaced by an innovative method drawing on a number of studies in various scholarly disciplines.

"The first important branch is in the discipline of aesthetics, dealing with extreme patriotism and the uprooting of trees, which in turn connects with a branch of economics concerning the role of buying and selling in the life of nations and individuals. A third branch, within ethics, treats the obsolescence of truth, trust, and honor. Fourth, there is a division of psychology that investigates the roots of the anxiety that motivates geniuses and pioneers to transfer their energies from one field to another. This study might lead to an important discovery about the Doctor's childhood and how he was breast-fed.

"The fifth field of study, within politics and administration, discusses the molding of public opinion into unified ma.s.s beliefs and tastes, which can easily be manipulated at will.

"Indeed it gives me great pleasure to announce, with all due pride, that I've come across some unknown but elegant odes composed by him, plus some scattered allusions to his opinions on film, music, and the theater, all in all a suitable basis for a creative study on contemporary literature and art.

"Connected with this is an independent investigation on the development that occurred in the Arabic language. This development finds expression in the disappearance of specific words and the appearance of new ones, some of them unique, unprecedented forms, such as `pilfer' and `pretend not to hear,' whereas others, such as `diversification' and `naturalization' and `activization' are newly created derivations of familiar words.

"The Doctor's unique mental flexibility and his capacity for reshaping his att.i.tudes and consistently landing on his feet inspired me to do a study on the psychology of child rearing and character development. Because of the special importance of this study, I hope you will allow me to digress on this point in order to present an example that comes to mind. It stems from the facts presented at the first interview with which I was honored at your headquarters. By that I mean my detailed presentation on Coca-Cola.

"As you have learned, your honors, this bottle entered our country at the end of the '40s and beginning of the '50s under the aegis of the vast advertising campaign that facilitated its spread to even the most remote villages and hamlets. Coca-Cola became a household word.

"After the revolution, Coca-Cola's popularity soon began to wane. I found out that the Doctor, among other factors, was responsible. To wit, he tried to compete by using a local beverage destined to succeed only for a short while.

"However, the crushing blow fell at the beginning of the '60s, when the Arab governmental agencies boycotting Israel discovered that Coca-Cola had given the Israelis bottling rights. As a result, Coca-Cola was blacklisted and barred from Arab countries. The market was wide open for the Doctor.

"As you know, nothing stays the same for long. The Doctor's plan failed for several reasons, which there is no point in enumerating now. The aforementioned boycott necessarily fell apart overnight and furthermore, the Doctor was in the right place at the right time. He got a head start through his efforts to remove the obstacles and obstructions long separating this refreshing drink from its Egyptian aficionados, and as a reward for his efforts, the company granted him bottling rights using a national bottle.

"Perhaps you agree with me, your honors, that this action on the part of Coca-Cola is equivalent in a way to an outright testimony to the Doctor's credit, especially given the fact the mother company only gives this concession to the most luminous person in each country.

"Please bear with me, as this point reminds me of another far-reaching phenomenon which the Doctor's biography will introduce to the ambitious scholar. I mean his s.e.xual life, which is characterized by an extraordinary energy. Such energy might have several widely varying aspects, ranging from excessive virility-the causes of which can be studied to define them and make them available to all-to a continuous attempt to deny latent h.o.m.os.e.xual tendencies, or the unflagging search for a mother figure, which search clearly manifests itself in his economic dealings as a continual restlessness and an indiscriminate desire to belong."

My throat had dried out. I stopped talking and looked at their faces to determine the effect of my speech. However, they were thickly blanketed in apathy.

I licked my lips, gathered my strength for a final attempt, and hurriedly said, "I would like to speak frankly, your honors, on something else of special importance. The study I have undertaken made me aware of a number of hidden relationships and connections among a collection of strange and diverse phenomena. I believe that very soon I will be able to offer a solution to some of the mysteries and puzzles that have baffled most people until now."

They suddenly showed some interest. I added in a voice that I tried to make as gracious and courteous as possible, "I am confident that out of the goodness of your hearts, you will let me finish what I have begun."