If an Egyptian Cannot Speak English by Noor Naga

Author:Noor Naga [Naga, Noor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Graywolf Press
Published: 2022-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? Reem asks as casually as she can and Sami smiles. I make some noises about work and don’t explain. I spent forever blowing them off when the boy from Shobrakheit was around, because it was easier to drop my new friends than to fight for them in my own home. My punishment for this cowardice is that when he swung the table, when he left, I was alone with my relief and its complications. Even now, when I begin to think about sharing with them where I have been all these months, I am already tired, too disheartened to try. Where to begin, and will they believe me? Can we meet in Zamalek? I’d asked when I phoned Reem and she began to protest until Sami cut in from the background, Yeah, I want to go to Zamalek for a change. Downtown is such a whore. He knows somehow, has intuited why I can’t return to Café Riche and would rather go instead to the expensive island, where little dogs are walked by Sudanese maids and the beggars sell roses and garlands of jasmine. We eat ice cream from Koueider and then walk to Costa for coffee. We discuss how woke Solange is, compared to her sister, Beyoncé, based on their last respective albums, and I feel jumpy the whole time, looking over my shoulder like an outlaw. When Reem goes home, Sami and I remain seated over our mugs in Costa and he lights me my first cigarette. I don’t smoke but I take it from him without hesitation. I’ve never seen him so serious before or so smug, as though he has won a bet with God. I wanted to warn you, he says, spreading his knees even wider so he can lean over his own heft. That kherty6 comes around Riche because I owe him something, not because he’s clean. Sami says he and not the boy from Shobrakheit’s name, to spare me the embarrassment. I almost say, Who? but stop myself. Lifting the cigarette to my lips, I attempt to inhale but end up dry-coughing painfully. No, suck on it like a straw. Hold it in your mouth and then inhale, he instructs in response. Then he begins to muse aloud that romance in Cairo is unlike romance elsewhere in the world. He lived in London till he was seven (is proud of this) and so claims he can compare. In Cairo it’s more like … you’re bored. Every girl you meet, you think, Hey, are you my wife? If the answer is yes, you throw yourself at her feet. If she tries to leave, you chase her back. It’s all life-and-death stuff, very dramatic, but also just a way of passing the time. Egyptian men—we’re fucking loyal, and you should be worried. He plucks the cigarette from my fingers and raises both his and mine at once, so that they poke from the sides of his lips like tusks. He takes a drag, tilts his head back, and exhales, enjoying every moment of this soap opera monologue.

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