Story of the Month
... The literature of Sheikh Said Takieddine is counted a summit of the true national vein. "The Anchor" is a living specimen of this literature, and it is taken from his book, "The Camphor Forest"..
Cairo, August 9, 1950
Mr. Hikmat Abdel-Jalil (an Egyptian summer visitor) Village of "Ain al-Burghush," Aley District — Lebanon.
Dear Hikmat,
The moment I returned this morning from Alexandria I telephoned your house, and was told you had gone off to summer in Lebanon.
Good God, good God!
Is there anyone left in Egypt whom madness drives to summer in Lebanon?
Do you not read the papers? Do you not follow our great man of letters' campaign against the summer resorts of Lebanon?
And why did you choose this village — the village of Ain al-Burghush — for a summer resort?
We have heard of Zahleh, and Aley, and Dhour el-Choueir — and none of these resorts pleased you, so you tucked yourself away among the mosquitoes; and then... — For God's sake, Hikmat, if you feel any nervous disturbance, pick up your bags and come back to us. I am very anxious about you, and I am eager that you hurry with an answer, if you will not hurry to come. And do not forget that I should be delighted to see to any errand you may want done in Egypt.
Keep well, Hikmat.
From your brother, Atiyah
*
August 28 — Village of "Ain al-Burghush" Aley District — Lebanon
Dr. Atiyah Mohsen al-Barrawi, 54 Faggala Street —
Cairo — Egypt.
Dear Atiyah,
Greetings, doctor.
I laughed long and loud reading your letter. You ask whether I have any errand in Cairo. I do have one urgent errand there, and I beg you to see to it.
It is that you put on those tremendous boots with the steel hobnails that you used to wear for hunting on the upper Nile, then make for our great man of letters and kick him in the teeth. You ask me why I withdrew to this mosquito-village, and I answer that I am not far from the famous resorts you mention — indeed I often go over to them — but I preferred seclusion in this village (I assure you there is not a single mosquito in it), and I am proud of the choice. And I am going to tell you about these villages you have never heard of, which grow very great in your eyes when you live in them; and about their people, whose like you will not find in the world; and about what happened to me yesterday at a school celebration.
Truly, I am living in a strange world. After renting one of the village houses, I found myself stepping down from a car while a flock of the village boys gathered around me, most of them barefoot, rosy-faced. No sooner had the chauffeur set down my bags than the boys snatched them up in a festival of shouting and glee and carried them into the house.
And when I offered them some money they laughed at me and ran off, and would take no pay.
And when I opened the door to set the house in order, I found a company of the village's women and men who had volunteered to serve me, hailing me with honeyed phrases and smiling faces. Night had scarcely come when delegations arrived to spend the evening with me, welcoming me warmly and in poetic terms, until I fancied myself a son of theirs come home from some world-conquest.
And I found that wherever I walked, hands went up in greeting to me, so that I asked myself what I had done for these fellows to deserve all this honoring.