The Marxist Underground
135
Frustrated, I appealed to the Arab newspaperman who had
been my first contact. He knew Curiel and would do his best.
But Curiel flatly refused to see me.
Allah must have had a hand in all this, for as it turned out,
Curiel's refusal saved me from a grave predicament. Two days
later Cairo newspapers broke out in headlines: "Police Yesterday Discovered the General Headquarters of the Egyptian
Communist Party." They had raided a tenement on Suleiman
Pasha street and discovered "extremely important documents
revealing the address of all the cells and names of the heads
of the movement throughout the country." Important papers also showed "connection between these cells and foreign
countries."
Prior to the raid, they had placed the evasive Curiel under
twenty-four hour surveillance, and trailed him to his secret
headquarters. He was now in jail. Had I met Curiel, I, too,
would have been followed, certainly arrested for questioning,
and would probably have had a taste of Cairo prison life.
With my police record of camera forays and my curious
friendships, I would have been in a difficult position.
LIBERATION AT LAST!
I decided to keep out of sight for a while. I remained in my
room at the Continental for several days, had my meals
brought up, and ventured out only at night for a few urgent
telephone calls I feared to make from the hotel. I telephoned
Hussein repeatedly. When do we start for Palestine? I demanded. "Any day now," he said. "Wait. Be patient. Be
patient. This is not America."
Wait. Wait. Wait. No wonder it was said that an Arab
spends half his time in waiting, the other half in wishing. I
determined I could wait no longer. I would have to revert to
my original plan and go to Palestine by myself, even though