Behind the Correspondent's Curtain
97
translated, "He doesn't think it is proper because you are a
foreigner."
"I am only listening. You are talking to me," I said.
The student who had cited the health statistics tugged at
my arm. "In what other country do you find eighty-five per
cent of the people illiterate? People are begging to go to
school, but there are no schools. There is only money for the
secret police and the pleasures of the pashas and officials."
"Education means social revolution," another put in. "They
don't want us to think, to speak out, or ask questions."
"Look at the army they've put in here to silence us. They
are more afraid of us than of the people," a third said.
During the discussion I had noticed a young man standing
by, listening intently but saying nothing. Just as Gamal returned, the stranger approached me and, speaking excellent
English, asked: "What is your name, please, and where are
you staying?"
If he was an informer, and I refused to reply, I was sure he
would have me followed. On the other hand, by being frank
I might disarm him. So I gave him my name, and my room
number at the Continental.
"I shall visit you at four o'clock today," he said mysteriously.
"I shall wait for you," I said.
As we left, Gamal whispered, "All those boys arc Communists. They are modernists. They have been contaminated
by European ideas and corrupted by the West. They are as
bad as the Jews. We have had many fights with them."
I felt I had to make my position clear to Gamal. "I was
waiting for you when they began to talk to me. I said nothing
to them."
Gamal nodded. "It is all right," he said. "But never forget
—you must be careful all the time."
We retraced our circuitous way back through the police
cordons, reporting at various checkposts until we finally