Authors: Ellen Wolf
Emily obeyed. The next half hour was filled with experiences she could have only imagined, her favorite childhood book,
Arabian Nights,
coming to mind. They wandered around the antique shops, looking at the displayed products and listening to the sellers calling buyers, their teeth flashing in their sun-burnt faces.
Soon Emily learned that
sura
meant picture, something the sellers had gotten used to offering to the tourists. This and a glass of peppermint tea, a friendly addition to the anticipated bargaining over their products. She saw plenty of tourists weaving their way around he busy alleys, cameras snapping and voices haggling all around them. It was intoxicating, she thought, her head turning constantly so as to miss nothing. The smell of incense and spices mingled with the fragrance of freshly baked bread, reminding her of the lunch they were officially skipping. Her mouth watered, especially after they moved ahead, and the mostly antique-filled stores thinned out to make space for food stalls, fruit and vegetable stands, and clay ovens offering fresh baked goods. She watched local women walking around in their long
gallabias
, baskets of goods perched precariously on their heads, their dark eyes flashing at her from behind their veils. Everything was sold here—ropes, fabric, clothes, live animals, and things she didn’t even have a name for.
‘
Are you getting hungry?’ Layla asked, letting go of the filmy, sea green fabric she was inspecting. ‘We can sit down in one of the little restaurants that are all around us, Emily. I know I’m dying for a kebob and some tea.’
‘
That sounds lovely,’ she agreed instantly, her feet aching from all the walking. She was actually glad to have dressed very casually, her low-heeled shoes offering at least some solace to her otherwise tired legs. She glanced at her watch and gasped in surprise as she realized that their trip had already exceeded the lunch-break hour they had planned for it.
‘
Gosh, it’s late, Layla.’ She was amazed to see the other girl smile at her mischievously. ‘I think we should be heading back, don’t you?’
‘
No worries.’ For a girl who supposedly couldn’t get enough of learning the ropes in a hotel, she was very unconcerned. ‘This is Egypt, remember. Nobody expects you to be on time to the minute. And I told the manager that we might be running late, if it makes you feel better. He was delighted for us to have some fun.’
It did make her feel better. She wasn’t too eager to go back to the hotel and the rather chaotic way the manager tried to get her involved in its workings. He meant well, and he definitely tried to please James with his enthusiasm, but the fact she was James’s girlfriend made it all much more awkward and stilted. She’d rather stay a bit longer here, especially since Layla’s company proved to be such fun.
‘
Let’s try this one then.’ A slim, bejeweled hand grabbed her hand, and she found herself pulled into a narrow, shadowy doorway that opened into a small, cave-like restaurant with just a few tables and no windows at all. She could make out the back door, open and letting in some of the sunlight, the sound of water making her think that a fountain or some other sort of water must be featured there.
‘
Salim will get us our food.’ Layla bent to her conspiratorially, her dark eyes merry. ‘At least this way he won’t feel absolutely useless.’
Emily didn’t find him useless at all. He was silent and calm, barely present as they walked the narrow streets of the souk. Yet, she was sure that it was thanks to him and his bulky figure that nobody harassed them or tried to lure them into their shop with the aggressive methods she had been warned about by Layla. His broad shoulders, impressive height, and bushy moustache must have sent the right message, she thought as she watched him walk over to the small bar.
‘
Would it be ok for me to go wash my hands?’ She asked, realizing how sticky and sweaty her palms had become from touching all the objects on their way here.
‘
Don’t worry about that.’ Layla smiled encouragingly, her head nodding to the woman in black who came over with two small basins, filled with heated rose water. ‘This is the way it’s done here, my dear.’
‘
Shoukram
.’ Emily smiled at the woman, her toothless smile in response genuine and warm. She said something to Layla, who seemed to hesitate momentarily before translating. ‘She says we should visit her nephew’s stall. It’s just around the corner, and he sells alabaster figures. I don’t want you to feel like you have to please her. It’s just a waitress, after all. But I thought I would mention it to you after you raved over those impossibly overpriced replicas back there. These must be much more reasonably priced, I hope.’
It was the first crack in the otherwise smooth surface of friendship they were building, Emily thought almost regretfully. She didn’t like the way Layla spoke about the people who did menial jobs, her family’s fortune giving her little right to treat them with such lack of respect. But maybe things were not so different here from what she recalled about her own family? Remembering Sophie and Marlene, she decided that that kind of behavior was embedded in all cultures and places without exception.
‘
Well, I would go catch a glimpse, if you don’t mind,’ she said, hiding her disappointment. ‘Is it far?’
‘
No, just around here.’ Layla pointed to the back door, her long red painted nails glistening in the light of the candles. ‘If you don’t mind, I will stay seated. I am totally tired out, Emily. Her nephew speaks English, apparently, so you won’t need me. If you need anything, holler. In the meantime, I will just use their restroom; there aren’t too many of those around here.’ She sighed comically, and Emily nodded, happy for the short break.
The back exit led to a courtyard, the tiny space crammed with crates and clay vats stacked against crumbling walls half hidden behind lines of laundry drying in the few rays of sun that managed to penetrate the perpetual shade.
Emily looked around, disoriented, the sight nothing she expected. She was just about to turn around and go back to the dark interior, when she realized that the courtyard had yet another opening leading to another street. Narrow stalls filled with figures were visible in the distance. A group of men was working around them, the sound of hammers chipping away at some raw blocks of alabaster getting louder as she approached.
She had seen the metalworker doing his magic a while ago, both she and Layla watching breathlessly as he molded a little figurine out of silver, his clever brown fingers surprisingly gentle. The men here were doing pretty much the same, she thought excitedly, carving the little statues that were put on display in the stalls.
She walked even closer, glad to have listened to the old woman’s advice. It would be so much nicer to walk away with a souvenir that was absolutely authentic, the labor of the hands of the people who lived and breathed the souk’s air.
‘
Saalam alaikum
,’ she said as she was close enough to be noticed. That and a few other phrases summed up her knowledge of Arabic. But it worked, the men noticing her and looking up, their hammers silenced.
‘
I… I just spoke to the lady in the restaurant, she said one of you is her nephew? I wanted to look at the alabaster figurines, if it’s ok?’ she said nervously, feeling rather silly with her English that seemed absolutely out of place. She looked around nervously, hoping for one of the men to catch on and answer, but none of them did. They all stared at her with surprised eyes, making her wonder how much English the woman’s nephew spoke.
Just then, one of the brown faces broke into a smile, dark eyes wrinkled as he asked, ‘You came buy souvenir? Alabaster?’
It must have been him, Emily decided, smiling back and nodding, relieved to have succeeded. She wasn’t so helpless after all, she thought almost smugly, as the man rose to his feet, his long, white robes and dark beard making her think of biblical times.
‘
I got lot of it, follow me,’ he ordered, moving swiftly around the chunks littering the ground, the rest of the men losing interest as soon as it became obvious Emily was about to do business with him. He gestured to the opening of the street, leaving her with no other option but to follow if she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.
‘
Very close.’ The man must have sensed her hesitation, because he turned to her with a reassuring smile. ‘Good prices and very good quality, too.’
They walked further and further away, and she was getting nervous, her eyes darting back to the courtyard she had left. He would have to come back to finish his work there, she tried to console herself, her heart heavier with each turn they took. He left his tools and his material, she reasoned, as panic started to kick in. She knew she was absolutely lost already, the intricate web of narrow passages too similar to offer her any visual clues. She tried to pinpoint some landmarks, the way she had learned to do it as a Girl Guide years ago, but there weren’t any. The stalls and door openings looked all the same to her untrained eye, the only realization that there were fewer and fewer westerners around bringing her little consolation.
She had wanted to see the real souk and now she had her wish, she thought sarcastically, glancing carefully at her watch. They had walked for barely five minutes, she calmed herself, most probably her guide making it more mysterious and interesting to be able to get a better price.
‘
Here.’ The man gestured to a door decorated with a woven pattern of grape leaves and flowers. ‘
Marhaban, Sayyida
.’
He didn’t lie, she thought, delighted as she stepped in, her eyes going over shelves upon shelves of tiny carvings, figures of ancient gods, animals, and flowers soon diverting her attention from the fears that gripped her just a moment ago.
She looked carefully, knowing that she would have to pick something, after the long walk and tearing the man away from his work.
She noticed a cat figurine, a bit larger than the average, but delightfully detailed and absolutely beautiful. The cat had a perfectly shaped round head with pointy ears and eyes that seemed to be alive. Its body was curled up into a relaxed pose, the long tail wrapped securely around its neatly tucked in front paws. Maybe it wasn’t the most original Egyptian souvenir, but it certainly hit a chord with her heart. She had loved cats for as long as she could remember. She picked it up and turned to the man, joined now by another merchant, two pairs of black eyes watching her expectantly.
‘
How much is this one?’ She asked hesitantly, realizing that she had no clue about good prices. Layla was trying to educate her a bit in their stroll around the place, but it was mostly her complaining about how exorbitant and overpriced the items were, with no real hints about the right way to bargain.
‘
Eighty pounds,’ the other man smiled, his toothless gums yellowed with years of tobacco habit. ‘Very good price. Big and hard work to make, madam.’
She did a quick calculation in her head, pleasantly surprised that it amounted only to around eight British pounds. She was just about to agree, when she remembered how offensive it was to forgo the haggling part altogether. She had to try at least to beat it down, cringing at the sheer idea to beat down something already very cheap.
‘
Seventy,’ she said weakly, praying to heavens to be done with it as soon as possible. Hopefully the waitress would explain to Layla where she had gone and how long it would take, so she would not be too worried.
‘
Seventy five.’ The man was clearly surprised at her offer. Maybe she should have started at fifty, she thought, sensing the man’s disappointment.
‘
I’ll take it,’ she said hurriedly, deciding to cut her losses and run back to the restaurant. She saw the man wrapping the figurine in brown paper, finishing it with a bow, the flourish of his fingers straightening the ribbon making her smile. Before she got a chance to walk off, the man brought her a little glass with peppermint tea. Her lips burned as she sipped it hurriedly, awkwardly aware of her position. She was there, alone and clueless, relying on a man she had never seen in her life.
Finally, after exchanging plenty of
shoukrams
and listening to the flowery litany of good wishes, they were off. This time the trip was much shorter, maybe because there was no need to impress her anymore. She didn’t try talking to the man, afraid to commit one of those culturally insensitive
faux pas
and have him disappear in the crowd. Soon she noticed the familiar opening to the courtyard, her relief adding a bounce to her step as she said her goodbyes and hurried across to the restaurant. Layla would have a good laugh when she heard her describe her clumsy attempts at haggling.
The darkness in the room made it impossible to see everything at once. Her eyes slowly readjusted to the shady interior, going to the little table where they were seated.
Her chest tightened in shock, her eyes incredulous as she looked around. Adrenaline cursed through her veins, her legs shaky as she surveyed the room. The table was empty, nothing even remotely familiar in the two chairs tucked neatly under the old fashioned, dark tabletop. Layla and Salim were gone, and she had no clue how to find them.
She was overreacting, she told herself after the initial shock of finding the table abandoned. There must have been some perfectly good explanation for Layla’s absence; Salim’s going with her was something that was to be expected. He was her bodyguard, after all.