What Happened to the General?
What Happened to the General?
by Alaa El Aswany
The general and the sheikh have much in common. Both of them are over seventy and in good health. They both go to bed and get up early and live in the same neighbourhood: the Fifth District. The luxurious mansion in which the sheikh lives is only a few minutes' drive from the general's mansion. All these considerations make it easy for them to meet when necessary. With the developments that happened last week the sheikh got in touch with the general and asked to meet him. The general immediately agreed and they decided to have breakfast together. The next day at eight in the morning the large black Mercedes carrying the sheikh stopped in front of the general's mansion, and two bodyguards jumped out. One of them opened the door for the sheikh to get out while the other scanned the area like a hawk, his finger on the trigger of the automatic rifle he was carrying. The general was waiting for the sheikh at the table in a large room adjoining the lobby of the mansion. The general greeted the sheikh, who embraced him warmly and sat next to him. On the table lay the breakfast - a mixture of French cuisine and the authentic traditions of the Egyptian countryside. The Nubian butler started to serve the dishes, speaking politely and clearly. There were croissants, and pâtés with cheese, meat and spinach, as well as hot mishaltit pastry, ful medames, eggs and various kinds of cheese, and then little bowls full of honey with cream.
It was a working breakfast, as diplomats say. The general and the sheikh ate and talked. The general began:
"Congratulations on winning the election, your grace."
"Praise the Lord. Our Lord gave me victory. Victory comes only from God."
"God is gracious. To be honest, although I'm delighted at your sweeping victory, I do have one grievance against you."
"Nothing serious, I hope, general."
"Look, my friend. When you have reservations about a decision I've taken, why don't you get in touch with me directly instead of criticizing me through the media?"
"Very well, sir."
With that the sheikh nibbled at the boiled egg he was holding. But the general suddenly got worked up and said, "By the way, this isn't the first time. Every time you tell me one thing and do the opposite."
The sheikh frowned as if upset by the general's tone. Speaking drily, he said, "General, it's really not such a big deal."
"Not a big deal? Do you want to act the hero at my expense?"
"I did nothing wrong. I expressed my opinion in the media. Nevertheless I won't do so again, out of deference to you."
"I don't need your deference."
"Sir, you know how I respect you but don't forget that I represent the people."
"I wanted you to win, so you won in the elections. If I had wanted you to lose, you would have lost. "
The sheikh put some food in his mouth, chewed it and swallowed it. Then he said, "Excuse me but you're not the reason I won. I won by the grace of God and by my own effort."
"It looks like you believe what you're saying."
"General, please restrain yourself. I respect you and I expect you to respect me."
The general looked ready to strike. He whispered something to the butler, who disappeared for a moment, came back with a small closed briefcase and put it next to the sheikh's chair. After a moment of silence, the general said, "Please take this briefcase home with you. Open it and examine the contents carefully."
"What's in it?"
"All the irregularities you committed, fully documented with tapes and photographs. You'll find a list of all the funding you received."
"What funding are you talking about?"
"You understand me well. The money that flooded in from abroad. In the briefcase you'll find copies of the cheques you received, the amounts and the dates they were cashed."
"General, really, please!"
"You'll find the incidents of vote-buying you were involved in. You'll find videos proving how you exploited people's ignorance and poverty to make them vote in your favour."
"Sir, there's no need to talk like that."
"I'm going to submit all this evidence in complaints against you and then we'll leave the whole matter to the judiciary."
"Sir, I beg you."
"Do you have a problem with enforcing the law, your grace?"
"No, I have a problem with you being angry, sir. Please don't get angry, sir."
The general sighed, leaned back and took a sip from his cup of tea.
"Then you have to listen to everything I tell you," he said.
"As you wish."
"Don't you ever imagine that you're strong and that I can't get the better of you."
"Sir, my religion commands me to obey you."
"So if you have remarks to make, make them to me before you go talking to the media. Understood?"
"Understood, sir."
As if he wanted to restore good relations, the sheikh blurted out: "It saddens me that you still have doubts about my loyalty."
"What you do is what counts," the general replied calmly.
"Sir, from the beginning I was calling for a new constitution of the country. That was my public position, but when I found out you wanted to make amendments to the old constitution I completely changed my position and backed the amendments fully. I think you remember that, sir."
The general nodded and the sheikh continued: "I never took a position against you, sir. I've lost many friends because of you. Even during the recent bloodshed I didn't utter a word against you, sir."
Silence reigned again, and then the sheikh said firmly: "Okay, sir. Happy with me?"
"As long as you do what you're told," said the general.
"Whatever you say."
The sheikh and the general moved on to talk about what they would do together in the future. They had finished eating and the general suggested they drink coffee in the study. They walked down the long hallway and went through the door into the spacious and luxurious study. The general sat behind the oak desk while the sheikh sat in the easy chair facing him. The general had prepared a small piece of paper with the subjects he wanted to discuss with the sheikh. The general and the sheikh talked for an hour and fully agreed in their points of view. The meeting ended amicably and the general escorted the sheikh and stood waving as his car drive off. The general was fully satisfied with his agreement with the sheikh. He had many reports he had to read, so he went back to his study and the servant brought him a cup of coffee. He read some papers and made some important phone calls. After about an hour's work the general leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. He wanted to relax a while but when he shut his eyes and opened them again he found something strange on the wall facing the desk. He noticed ghostly figures or shadows moving on the wall in front of him. The general was upset. He took a closer look and saw on the wall the faces of four or five young men in their twenties. The strange thing was that the faces all looked the same. They were looking at him with one eye, while the other eye was just an empty hollow with a black space. The general was alarmed and thought he must be having hallucinations because of overwork. He thought these delusions would definitely disappear if he had a little rest. He shut his eyes for a moment and opened them again, but the faces hadn't disappeared from the wall. In fact there were more of them. The faces with one eye missing had been joined by other faces with bullet wounds near the top of the head or in the neck. All the faces had a single expression, mysterious and final. Severe and frightening. The general sank into confusion. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. After about two minutes he raised his head, avoiding looking at the wall. He put on all the lights in the room. That was his final attempt. His hope was that the bright light would eliminate the shadows haunting him. His heart began to pound. Then he opened his eyes and looked into the light. The wall was now completely covered with faces. As well as the faces with one eye and the faces with bullet wounds, many other faces appeared: faces convulsed as if choking on poisonous gas, faces with distorted features as if they had been run over by a vehicle. This time the general felt that all the faces were closing in on him. They were moving towards him, all with the same idea. As if they all had a specific plan and insisted on carrying it out. The general reached out and rang the bell loudly several times. His private secretary came running. The general tried to appear composed. He exchanged some casual words with him and when the secretary looked towards the wall the general immediately realized that the horrible faces he could see were invisible to the secretary. At that point the general told his secretary to leave and hurried out of the study, convincing himself of the only explanation he could accept. He firmly believed he was tired and that these shapes on the wall were only fantasies that his tired mind was imagining. The general made a great effort to control himself, and he did spend an ordinary day. In fact he deliberately took his wife and elder daughter to the club in the afternoon for lunch. When he got home his wife went off to sleep while he sat alone in front of the television in the big sitting-room on the first floor of the mansion. He felt really anxious. He was frightened of going into his study. He couldn't believe it when he looked at the large curtain in front of him and found the same faces. The same hollow eyes, the faces choking on gas, the faces killed with bullets and the faces mangled and crushed by the wheels of vehicles. The general was terrified. He trembled. He almost screamed. He lifted his hands to cover his eyes so that he couldn't see all these murdered faces, and was surprised to find that his hands were covered with blood. What happened to the general?
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