Written By : Belal Fadl
Scribblings By : Amro Selim
Translated From Arabic By : Doctor Deen
Dedicated to Belal Fadl's newborn daughter... Ishq
"You are one lucky man, Dr.Fareed, your mother's prayers must have been accepted !! " This was what he was told by his colleagues in the Cabinet after a Presidential decree was issued that anointed him as Head of the delegate that will accompany the President of the major country who suddenly decided to visit the country. Dr.Fareed nodded his head, smiling, as he recalled that envious sentence although he knew quite well that the last thing he heard from his mother were curses, and not prayers, after she saw her husband die out of grief because his Minister son yelled at him and told him not to keep jumping on him at the Ministry every now and then with a new request.
Dr.Fareed shook that dreaded memory off his mind and decided not to ruin this fine morning. He thanked God for being gifted with a perfect knowledge of the visiting President's language that he had learnt during the years he spent in the major country studying the finest it gave to humanity, Civil Law, before returning to his country to contribute in the lowest it gave to humanity, the Emergency Law. Ever since he returned to teaching at the Faculty, he did not waste a moment. His first achievement was a project for a new law he published in the country's most popular newspaper. He called it the Respect-of-the-Country Law and it was for its sake that he sought to introduce himself to the newspaper's Editor-in-chief's daughter whom he knew was a student at the Faculty. She never did go the Faculty actually. It was the professors who went to her at0 her daddy's mansion. He asked a friend to introduce him to her and it was through her that he reached the Editor who was impressed with the idea of the project which the country did need after the ferocious waves of disapproval that were aiming at the President; a law that penalised anyone who would criticise the President or his associates. The project was published on many pages. It was immediately aborted after it provoked storms of controversy which were enough to attract the attention of the major country to its danger and to warn the country's President who issued a secret decree to bury the project alive.
Dr.Fareed knew the fate of his project beforehand. He was neither outraged when he received the news about the project's termination nor was he annoyed from the numerous whiplash articles that emerged. He would read these articles with a smile. " The bait has been taken", he would tell his wife who was busy at that time trying to find a membership in a Rotary Club. He collected the articles that were written against him and he sent numerous copies to offices of the local authorities accompanied with a bitter complaint from the decline of the level of dialogue to a demeaning extent. The bait had really been taken. A close friend of the President's son called Dr.Fareed, one happy evening, and asked if he could join them in a closed meeting with many of the well-known patriotic minds of the country to discuss how to improve the efficacy of work inside the country's ruling party that the President left to his son ever since he told him one day : "Daddy I'm bored. Find me something to do".
It was love at first sight between the President's son and Dr.Fareed; a love that was ignited by those notes, speeches and research papers that Dr.Fareed would write and present to the President's son to read out publicly in meetings as if they were his own; a love that reached its climax by a personal request from the son to Dr.Fareed that he "be with us in the next Cabinet".
His new position was insignificant. Or that was what he thought about it the moment he received the news that he was anointed Minister of Human Rights; that newly devised ministry the newspapers called for for ages in order to be the only country that owns such a thing as a Ministry of Human Rights. He did not bother about what that satirical writer wrote in his daily column about changing the Ministry's name to "Animal's Rights" because the government treats the citizens as animals. He was only worried about this burden that was thrown on his back. What on Earth can one make out of the Ministry of Human Rights but one's salary, new car and bodyguards? He knew that he had not yet reached that elite status in order to be given the Ministry of Petroleum or Housing but at least he could have been given a service-providing Ministry as Electricity or Sewage Disposal. At least he would have secured a decent future for his children. Yet, he did not surrender to depression. He gave orders to add a hundred pound fee to be paid on every complaint presented to the Ministry. Dr.Fareed's assistant began to calculate for him his personal share of the loot from the complaints that flooded the Ministry after a wide campaign that covered the country announcing the dawn of a new era in human rights. And things went smoothly, not as smooth as his colleagues, but at least it was better than nothing.
Dr.Fareed arose from his long daydream in front of the mirror while getting dressed. He was delighted from the flashback that helped him recall his rapid ascent. He fell an exciting numbness in his limbs; a numbness that he hadn't felt ever since his weekly visits to the major country's prostitutes who made him feel young again. But whoever said that Dr.Fareed's dreams have been fulfilled. He should not let the euphoria overtake him. The path is still very long and he is now at a crucial moment as it could take him from simply being one of the President's son's friends to a member in the octogenarian President's elite whom everyone fears his anger fits that usually fall on his son's head. "When I die and you inherit me then you can go around insulting my men...Mr.Successor." That was how the President chose to shout at his son during a closed meeting with the Party's leaders when he deliberately criticised his father's men considering them "the biggest obstacle on the path of our Party towards reform". Dr.Fareed must reach his goal slowly and in an unnoticeable way in order not to find himself being paid an unexpected visit by the Death Angel.
The visit did not go as smoothly as Dr.Fareed wished. It was rather packed with dilemmas; the first of which was a one-of-a-kind. Nobody was able to solve it but Dr.Fareed came up with a solution that would remain the main conversational subject in all political rallies across the country.
The assistants of the visiting President surprisingly asked Dr.Fareed and his men to prepare, during the tour, an oriental belly-dancing session to be performed by the one and only Itidal; the country's number one belly-dancer for the past thirty years whom the visiting President adored ever since he was an ambassador twenty years ago. The request shocked those who heard it not only because they could not dare to mention that Itidal had retired from belly-dancing once and for all but also because of the fact that she has worn the Islamic veil, denounced her "demeaning past" and has her own TV show on an Islamic TV channel. Dr.Fareed tried to suggest younger and much-fuller alternatives to Itidal , with the use of pictures and diagrams, but the President's men refused. The request had nothing to do with a passion for bouncing belly buttons but was related to the nostalgia that the President was in at the verge of his political career after the two terms he ruled in which the country. It was only during lunch, when things got a little friendly, when the visiting President's men told Dr.Fareed how their President fell in love with Itidal the first moment he set his eyes on her and how she became the woman of his dreams ever since she put his head between her breasts in an attempt to deepen the relationships between both countries. It was the beginning of a belly-dancing mania that overwhelmed the President and kept growing throughout the years to the extent that the First Lady literally abandoned him after she was sick and tired from the tabloids that wrote about her husband's obsession with stout, oriental belly-dancers.
And so, Dr.Fareed found himself forced to personally sit with Itidal and negotiate with her after she refused to meet anyone who would dare mention the visiting President's request in her presence. Nobody ever expected that Dr.Fareed would be smart enough to go to her armed with a fatwa from the country's Grand Imam that explained how necessities justify the prohibited and that a one-night's dancing with the intention of bringing benefit to the country will most certainly be rewarded by God. Yet, nobody ever expected, again, that she would tear the fatwa and throw it at the face of the person who read it expressing utter sorrow for a country in which its Grand Imam was superior to her in dancing at the pleasure of its rulers. They were astonished when they saw her shamefully shake her still shapely body in an attempt to imitate, what she thought, was the manner in which the Grand Imam danced. The smile never left Dr.Fareed's face as he watched the repulsive act but he surprised everyone when he called the Minister of Finance, put him on speakerphone and asked him to re-open Itidal's tax files to check, just check, if she had paid society's share from the millions that she had made throughout her thirty years of dancing especially that she was able to obtain a fatwa allowing her to keep her money with purifying it by a few simple acts of charity here and there. Minutes later, Dr.Fareed, with a victorious smile on his face, left Itidal discussing with her fashion designer the criteria of chastity that have to be fulfilled in her new dress that she will wear for the visiting President and how she believed that seduction was never by body exposure.
Those who believed what happened that day never believed that Dr.Fareed would deserve, for his achievement, a cordial phone call from the President, who, according to a rumour, followed the negotiations by means of a hidden camera. " We want your skills with the IMF ...or are you just good with belly dancers ?" For days, Dr.Fareed repeated the last sentence to his wife and friends as a sign of the President's satisfaction because everybody knew that when the President insults someone like that, with that lovable way of his, then that someone has secured himself a place in the President's heart.
To Be Continued...
Thursday, November 02, 2006
The Visiting President !! (Part 1)
Written By : Belal Fadl
Scribblings By : Amro Selim
Translated From Arabic By : Doctor Deen
Dedicated to Belal Fadl's newborn daughter... Ishq
"You are one lucky man, Dr.Fareed, your mother's prayers must have been accepted !! " This was what he was told by his colleagues in the Cabinet after a Presidential decree was issued that anointed him as Head of the delegate that will accompany the President of the major country who suddenly decided to visit the country. Dr.Fareed nodded his head, smiling, as he recalled that envious sentence although he knew quite well that the last thing he heard from his mother were curses, and not prayers, after she saw her husband die out of grief because his Minister son yelled at him and told him not to keep jumping on him at the Ministry every now and then with a new request.
Dr.Fareed shook that dreaded memory off his mind and decided not to ruin this fine morning. He thanked God for being gifted with a perfect knowledge of the visiting President's language that he had learnt during the years he spent in the major country studying the finest it gave to humanity, Civil Law, before returning to his country to contribute in the lowest it gave to humanity, the Emergency Law. Ever since he returned to teaching at the Faculty, he did not waste a moment. His first achievement was a project for a new law he published in the country's most popular newspaper. He called it the Respect-of-the-Country Law and it was for its sake that he sought to introduce himself to the newspaper's Editor-in-chief's daughter whom he knew was a student at the Faculty. She never did go the Faculty actually. It was the professors who went to her at0 her daddy's mansion. He asked a friend to introduce him to her and it was through her that he reached the Editor who was impressed with the idea of the project which the country did need after the ferocious waves of disapproval that were aiming at the President; a law that penalised anyone who would criticise the President or his associates. The project was published on many pages. It was immediately aborted after it provoked storms of controversy which were enough to attract the attention of the major country to its danger and to warn the country's President who issued a secret decree to bury the project alive.
Dr.Fareed knew the fate of his project beforehand. He was neither outraged when he received the news about the project's termination nor was he annoyed from the numerous whiplash articles that emerged. He would read these articles with a smile. " The bait has been taken", he would tell his wife who was busy at that time trying to find a membership in a Rotary Club. He collected the articles that were written against him and he sent numerous copies to offices of the local authorities accompanied with a bitter complaint from the decline of the level of dialogue to a demeaning extent. The bait had really been taken. A close friend of the President's son called Dr.Fareed, one happy evening, and asked if he could join them in a closed meeting with many of the well-known patriotic minds of the country to discuss how to improve the efficacy of work inside the country's ruling party that the President left to his son ever since he told him one day : "Daddy I'm bored. Find me something to do".
It was love at first sight between the President's son and Dr.Fareed; a love that was ignited by those notes, speeches and research papers that Dr.Fareed would write and present to the President's son to read out publicly in meetings as if they were his own; a love that reached its climax by a personal request from the son to Dr.Fareed that he "be with us in the next Cabinet".
His new position was insignificant. Or that was what he thought about it the moment he received the news that he was anointed Minister of Human Rights; that newly devised ministry the newspapers called for for ages in order to be the only country that owns such a thing as a Ministry of Human Rights. He did not bother about what that satirical writer wrote in his daily column about changing the Ministry's name to "Animal's Rights" because the government treats the citizens as animals. He was only worried about this burden that was thrown on his back. What on Earth can one make out of the Ministry of Human Rights but one's salary, new car and bodyguards? He knew that he had not yet reached that elite status in order to be given the Ministry of Petroleum or Housing but at least he could have been given a service-providing Ministry as Electricity or Sewage Disposal. At least he would have secured a decent future for his children. Yet, he did not surrender to depression. He gave orders to add a hundred pound fee to be paid on every complaint presented to the Ministry. Dr.Fareed's assistant began to calculate for him his personal share of the loot from the complaints that flooded the Ministry after a wide campaign that covered the country announcing the dawn of a new era in human rights. And things went smoothly, not as smooth as his colleagues, but at least it was better than nothing.
Dr.Fareed arose from his long daydream in front of the mirror while getting dressed. He was delighted from the flashback that helped him recall his rapid ascent. He fell an exciting numbness in his limbs; a numbness that he hadn't felt ever since his weekly visits to the major country's prostitutes who made him feel young again. But whoever said that Dr.Fareed's dreams have been fulfilled. He should not let the euphoria overtake him. The path is still very long and he is now at a crucial moment as it could take him from simply being one of the President's son's friends to a member in the octogenarian President's elite whom everyone fears his anger fits that usually fall on his son's head. "When I die and you inherit me then you can go around insulting my men...Mr.Successor." That was how the President chose to shout at his son during a closed meeting with the Party's leaders when he deliberately criticised his father's men considering them "the biggest obstacle on the path of our Party towards reform". Dr.Fareed must reach his goal slowly and in an unnoticeable way in order not to find himself being paid an unexpected visit by the Death Angel.
The visit did not go as smoothly as Dr.Fareed wished. It was rather packed with dilemmas; the first of which was a one-of-a-kind. Nobody was able to solve it but Dr.Fareed came up with a solution that would remain the main conversational subject in all political rallies across the country.
The assistants of the visiting President surprisingly asked Dr.Fareed and his men to prepare, during the tour, an oriental belly-dancing session to be performed by the one and only Itidal; the country's number one belly-dancer for the past thirty years whom the visiting President adored ever since he was an ambassador twenty years ago. The request shocked those who heard it not only because they could not dare to mention that Itidal had retired from belly-dancing once and for all but also because of the fact that she has worn the Islamic veil, denounced her "demeaning past" and has her own TV show on an Islamic TV channel. Dr.Fareed tried to suggest younger and much-fuller alternatives to Itidal , with the use of pictures and diagrams, but the President's men refused. The request had nothing to do with a passion for bouncing belly buttons but was related to the nostalgia that the President was in at the verge of his political career after the two terms he ruled in which the country. It was only during lunch, when things got a little friendly, when the visiting President's men told Dr.Fareed how their President fell in love with Itidal the first moment he set his eyes on her and how she became the woman of his dreams ever since she put his head between her breasts in an attempt to deepen the relationships between both countries. It was the beginning of a belly-dancing mania that overwhelmed the President and kept growing throughout the years to the extent that the First Lady literally abandoned him after she was sick and tired from the tabloids that wrote about her husband's obsession with stout, oriental belly-dancers.
And so, Dr.Fareed found himself forced to personally sit with Itidal and negotiate with her after she refused to meet anyone who would dare mention the visiting President's request in her presence. Nobody ever expected that Dr.Fareed would be smart enough to go to her armed with a fatwa from the country's Grand Imam that explained how necessities justify the prohibited and that a one-night's dancing with the intention of bringing benefit to the country will most certainly be rewarded by God. Yet, nobody ever expected, again, that she would tear the fatwa and throw it at the face of the person who read it expressing utter sorrow for a country in which its Grand Imam was superior to her in dancing at the pleasure of its rulers. They were astonished when they saw her shamefully shake her still shapely body in an attempt to imitate, what she thought, was the manner in which the Grand Imam danced. The smile never left Dr.Fareed's face as he watched the repulsive act but he surprised everyone when he called the Minister of Finance, put him on speakerphone and asked him to re-open Itidal's tax files to check, just check, if she had paid society's share from the millions that she had made throughout her thirty years of dancing especially that she was able to obtain a fatwa allowing her to keep her money with purifying it by a few simple acts of charity here and there. Minutes later, Dr.Fareed, with a victorious smile on his face, left Itidal discussing with her fashion designer the criteria of chastity that have to be fulfilled in her new dress that she will wear for the visiting President and how she believed that seduction was never by body exposure.
Those who believed what happened that day never believed that Dr.Fareed would deserve, for his achievement, a cordial phone call from the President, who, according to a rumour, followed the negotiations by means of a hidden camera. " We want your skills with the IMF ...or are you just good with belly dancers ?" For days, Dr.Fareed repeated the last sentence to his wife and friends as a sign of the President's satisfaction because everybody knew that when the President insults someone like that, with that lovable way of his, then that someone has secured himself a place in the President's heart.
To Be Continued...
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