The Sunday Mail
This is the second of six fictional episodes describing Adam Kok’s experiences in Egypt. They do not necessarily depict exactly what goes on in Egypt.
Adam Kok had been sent to Cairo by his newspaper to report on the Warriors versus Egypt game and also to bring back some human interest stories. In the process, being the ladies’ man he is, he meets an Egyptian beauty. From Cape Town to Paris, Adam has featured in an endless series of sensational love stories. However, when it comes to philandering, in Egypt he is just a beginner.
He met her in a restaurant where she was a waitress. When Adam first saw Nourhan, the image of Cleopatra, the great Egyptian beauty in history, and the image of the woman who was bending over a table delivering an order, merged into one. From that moment Nourhan was Cleopatra — and she knocked Adam for a six.
Remember the woman on the plane to Paris? A Muslim woman is a completely different kettle of fish from the women Adam was used to. He thought he could get any woman into bed if he tried — and he almost always tried. And that is how he courted Nourhan. He should have learnt his lesson.
When he gazed at his Cleopatra, he was not thinking of marrying, settling down and having kids. He was already married and already had kids. Neither was he thinking of a Platonic love affair — a “marriage of two minds” or an affinity of two souls. Quite the opposite. He was on fire to find out what delights lurked enticingly beneath the white head scarf, the loose beige blouse and the long blue skirt his Queen of the Nile wore as she performed her duties with the smooth waters of the Nile gleaming and flickering in the lights of the restaurant, the sky a silken indigo beyond the southern bank and a full orange moon looking enormous in the clear African sky.
It so happened that Nourhan, though still in her prime, had reached the age when an Egyptian girl and her family begin to get a bit worried that she is not yet married. She had had a number of offers but, being Cleopatra, she was waiting for a Roman Emperor. When Adam pitched up, though not quite that, she thought him the next best thing.
So when he asked her for her telephone number, she did something she had never done before. She gave it to him.
Back in the hotel he phoned her and they made an arrangement to meet during her off period between 4pm and 6pm the next day. Adam went to sleep with the wonderful anticipation of soon enjoying the pleasures he had hoped for when he came to Egypt.
The restaurant where she worked was not far from the Nile and so they went down to the river, walked along the promenade and onto the Qasr al-Nil bridge, from which they watched the waters of the great river swirl their way through the city on their way to Alexandria and the Mediterranean Sea. The water had come a long way from its two sources, the Blue Nile in Ethiopia and the White Nile in Uganda.
Adam still remembered a little about Islam — he would have done well to remember more so he made no advances. They talked. Adam could be really charming and he was full of jokes. If they say the way to a man’s heart is through his belly then the way to a woman’s is making her laugh. Women love to laugh — and Adam was good at that.
So by the time they got back to the restaurant, Nourhan really liked him and Adam felt his grand plan was going pretty well. Despite being Muslim he thought he would soon have her where he wanted her. She had already gone so far as to permit him to hold her hand. But when he tried to give her a goodbye kiss, she recoiled in horror. Adam had made a mistake and he apologised profusely. She liked that fact that he knew how to apologise and they parted very affectionately with an arrangement for Adam to meet her when she knocked off later that evening.
Back at the hotel Adam tried to write an article for Ngulube. He couldn’t concentrate. He was on fire for Nourhan. There is nothing like hidden or forbidden delights to arouse desire.
Waitresses in Cairo have to work till late in the night but at last Nourhan came out of the restaurant, looking tired but beautiful. He had never been a great one for Shakespeare but he had really liked parts of Anthony and Cleopatra. He remembered the lines:
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale, her infinite variety: other women cloy the appetites they feed: but she makes hungry, where most she satisfies…
A few hours with Nourhan, his own Cleopatra, had taught him the meaning of those lines better than any schoolmaster could. It was impossible to get tired of Cleopatra — instead the more you devoured her, the hungrier you got. He had a sneaking feeling that with Nourhan it was going to be the same — what a pity he was going back to Zimbabwe in three days’ time!
Nourhan asked him to take her home. She wanted to take a Kombi but for obvious reasons Adam preferred the back seat of a taxi. Nourhan wouldn’t let him near her. She kept looking at the taxi driver — an old chain smoker. Obviously for her the back seat of a taxi was a public place and if she was ever going to let Adam come up close, it was not going to be in a taxi.
When they got to her block of flats, the best Adam hoped for was a peck on the cheek before hurrying off to the lift. But no! “Adam, will you be coming up with me to drink some coffee?” she purred.
Adam’s brains began to rotate like a fruit machine. What! This is more like it. Play some nice soft Egyptian music, drink coffee and then — well, anything was possible.
They took the lift up to the tenth floor, walked down a long dark corridor and came to her flat. She had the key and opened up. Adam’s heart sank as he heard the sound of Egyptian television. Someone was inside.
As they entered the lounge, Adam discovered that someone was inside — with a vengeance. The lounge was real “old skool”. Heavy dark green drapes, thick but slightly frayed Persian carpet, brass ornaments and old oil paintings of desert scenes.
A historical-looking scimitar in a worn leather scabbard hung from a hook in the wallpaper. Sitting watching television was an entire extended family. There was her father, rather aged, with short silver hair, a moustache and something of the military about him.
Then there was an old lady, who was obviously the gogo, and three more ladies, Nourhan’s mother and her father’s two sisters. All the women wore heejab. The two aunts were rather elderly but Nourhan’s mother was much younger. In countries like Egypt and Ethiopia men tend to marry late — and marry women much younger than themselves. Then there was Nourhan’s younger sister and five cats. An uncle had gone to the hospital for his monthly check-up.
Nourhan and her family greeted, affectionately but a little self-conscious in the presence of the strange man she had brought home with her. Adam’s first reaction was to go round the room shaking hands. The old man was quite happy — though a little surprised — to do so. The granny looked at him in horror, the rest looked shocked but apologetic. Nourhan quickly jogged his memory. Devout Muslim women do not touch men unless they are close family.
Adam hadn’t made a good start but when he sat down, Nourhan gave him a smile of such radiance that he felt a lot better. The interrogation followed with coffee and sweetmeats — Egyptians specialise in little tarts, cakes and date and chocolate squares.
Adam was grilled for an hour and when Nourhan finally escorted him to the door, he asked her how his examination had gone. “Very good, my Adam. They are very happy with you. They are approving,” she said.
He thought to himself now was his chance.
Quickly he made a date for the next day and determined to take her to his hotel, hoping she would agree to come up to his room now he had met the family. A good sign was that she accepted a kiss on her cheek. “Getting there,” he thought — and off he went, a happy man, looking forward to greater happiness. He had no idea what the family was discussing as his taxi crawled across Cairo in bumper to bumper traffic.
To access previous Kok Tales, go to https://rmshengukavanagh.wordpress.com/.
