Chicago, Alaa Aswany [first e reader .TXT] 📗

usual, was recording everything said in class so he could accurately evaluate each student. He was so extremely perplexed by what Danana said that for a moment he thought he was an imbecile. But on second thought he deemed that unlikely and had to interrupt him decisively. “Mr. Danana, I’d like to draw your attention to the fact that what you are saying has absolutely nothing to do with the subject of this session.”

That sentence would have silenced any student instantly, but Danana, well trained in arguing and polemics in political gatherings, did not bat an eyelash and said loudly, “Professor Baker, please. I am calling upon my colleagues to come clean, to exchange the ideas that each of us has about methods of research.”

Baker’s face turned red with anger and he shouted: “Listen, you’ve got to stop talking like that. I won’t allow you to confuse your colleagues. You either speak to the subject or stop talking, or get out of here.”

Danana fell silent and sighed. His face acquired the features of a great man who has received a cruel insult but, for noble considerations that he alone was aware of, decided to transcend the insult and forget it. The class went on as usual, and when it was over, Baker stared at Danana and asked him in disbelief mixed with exasperation, “Do you have psychological problems?”

“Of course not,” answered Danana with a nonchalant smile.

“Then why didn’t you read the paper?”

“I read it.”

“But you didn’t refer to it at all. You wasted class time with meaningless words.”

Danana placed his hand on Baker’s shoulder as if he were an old friend and said as if counseling him, “I always prefer to present scientific data with a human touch that brings students closer to one another.”

Baker looked at him closely then said calmly, “It’s I who determines the way this class is taught, not you.”

Then he opened a folder he was holding and took out a large stack of paper that he handed to Danana and said, “I am going to give you one last chance. Here, read this paper carefully. I want you to present me with a summary within two days at most.”

“I don’t have time this week.”

“How can you be a student and not find time for your studies?”

“I am not an ordinary student. I am the president of the Egyptian Student Union in all of America.”

“What does this have to do with research?”

“My time is not my own. It belongs to my colleagues who’ve given me the responsibility.”

Baker fell silent, looking at him in true bewilderment: this was a type of human being that he hadn’t encountered before in his life.

Danana went on to say in an official tone, “Professor Baker, I expect you to take my political post into consideration.”

It was then that Baker burst out, saying angrily, “What you’re saying is nonsense. Do you understand? Here you are a student, no more and no less. If you don’t have time for your studies, quit.”

Baker turned and left. Danana ran after him trying to pacify him, but he dismissed him with a wave of his hand. From that day on Danana became a heavy psychological burden on Baker, who, despite his long experience, didn’t know how to deal with him. He would attend regularly for a few days and then would miss several classes and neglect his lessons, coming back every time with a new story about a problem that one of the students had had that forced him to travel to Washington, or about a student suddenly falling ill that he had to check into a hospital. At this point we have to understand that the problem was much more serious than Danana’s preoccupations or his neglect of his lessons: the academic record that Danana had attained in Egypt was extremely mediocre, for it was his relationship with the secret State Security police—which had started when he was an undergraduate—that had earned him his promotions, and not his work. Every year the security apparatus exercised tremendous pressure on professors at the medical school in Cairo University to give Danana high grades that he didn’t deserve. Then the pressure continued to appoint him as an instructor, and then he got a master’s degree and finally got this scholarship. But his true level of competence was exposed in Illinois and he was not able to keep up with his studies. Professor Baker was shocked at Danana’s ignorance of some basics of medicine, so much so that he told him once in disbelief, “I can’t understand how you graduated with Tariq Haseeb and Shaymaa Muhammadi. Their academic knowledge is far superior to yours.”

Two full years passed and Danana covered only very little in his research. He was supposed to present his results this week but he missed class three days in a row. On the morning of the fourth day, Baker was working in his lab when there was a knock on the door, then it opened and Danana appeared. Baker ignored him and went on with his work. When Danana began the recital of his usual excuses, Baker interrupted him without turning toward him. He said calmly as he looked with one eye inside a glass test tube as if examining the barrel of a gun, “If you do not submit the results of the research this week, I will ask to be relieved of supervising your dissertation.”

Danana was about to speak but Baker silenced him with a gesture of his hand. Then he said as he withdrew inside the lab, “I have nothing to say to you. It’s your last chance.”

Karam Doss smiled and said, “Sorry to disturb you, Nagi.”

“Welcome.”

“Would you allow me to treat you to a cup of coffee somewhere?”

I saw his face in the soft corridor light. He looked tired and pale. It seemed he hadn’t slept since yesterday and hadn’t changed his clothes, which looked wrinkled and a little dirty. I said to him, “If this has something to