Chapter 9: Collecting Antiquities

(No real erotic content here, I’m afraid - it just moves the story along a bit)

It was early in the spring of 1915. Saeed Abanoub was sitting, sipping mint tea in a cafe near the centre of Abu Sir Banna. The heat of the day was fading and the village was starting to come to life as the evening call to prayer echoed out from the nearby mosque. He was no longer a young man. He was happy to watch as others went about their work.

A motor car – still a rare site in these parts - made its way along the street, its horn urging villagers to move out of its path. Saeed Abanoub could see it was a British army car; going from Abbousir to Cairo, he assumed. They were just the latest foreigners to trample across his country. He wasn’t sure if they were any better or worse than the French. The car stopped and two men got out. One, in army uniform stopped by the car. The other, a bluff looking, moustachioed fellow walked across to the cafe where Saeed Abanoub was sitting. He spoke to the cafe owner. There was some discussion. Money passed from the Englishman to the cafe owner and the cafe owner pointed at Saeed.

The Englishman came over. “Can I join you? Our friend over there,” he nodded towards the cafe owner, “says you can help me.”

Abanoub was surprised. The man spoke good Arabic; colloquially, not like someone that had learned it in class. Abanaoub spoke some English but saw no need to use it. “I help who I can, InshaAllah.”

“He says you find things, old things. Or you know people that do. He says you sometimes have things to sell. Sometimes I like to buy. Things that have been found. Old things.”

“Trading of antiquities is illegal.”

“Of course. But some old things, well, it may not be clear if they are genuine antiquities. When things are found, in the ground, in the fields. You might sell them with a clear conscience. Without fear of consequences.”

“I have some things. Found in the fields. The river winds back and forth here. No one is sure what was where but Busiris – Ddjedu - is supposed to have been nearby. A friend of mine found these beads and these small shabtis. He would be pleased to receive a price for them.”

The man took them and looked closely at them. He put his head on one side, stroked his moustache and then shook his head. “No, my friend. I don’t think these were found here. I think I could buy these in any tourist shop in Cairo. I’m looking for something of greater worth, something that would command a higher price than the few copper malleem these would attract. But perhaps the cafe owner does not know you. Perhaps you do not find the things he says you find.”

Saeed Abanoub reacted with wounded pride but he recognised the man’s knowledge. “I know these fields better than any man but they are not rich. Too many years of ploughing, ripening corn and barley, too many floods. The Nile is not kind to history.”

“And you have nothing from the fields?”

Abanoub looked at the man carefully. He was persistent. He doubted that he was a government spy or a policeman. And he knew enough about antiquities to see what was tourist junk. “I have something. But I was not planning to sell it. I think it is very precious. I found it where some old crumbled buildings can just be made out. Mud bricks return to the river, you know. This was wedged in a crack in what was left of a wall.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a knot of cloth. Unfolding it, he showed the Englishman the gold ring that he had discovered the day before.

The Englishman took it and looked closely at it. “Yes,” he said. “This is old. I might buy it. If your price is fair.”

The two men embarked on the verbal joust that accompanies so many deals in the Arab world. Offer and counter-offer meandered back and forth, much as the course of the Nile itself does. Eventually when it seemed that neither side could be reconciled to paying so much or accepting so little, a figure was mentioned that each seemed content with. The Englishman parted with a pound note and a few gold piastre coins and the ring was his. The two men shared another glass of mint tea, talking of places where such things might be found.

In the car, the Englishman’s colleague was waiting impatiently. He blew on the car’s horn. “Come on, Howard,” he called, “we need to get on.”