“The officer asked me who I was and what I did. I told him, Ί am Egyptian, ghalban.’ I didn’t know how to say ‘I’m just a poor little Egyptian’ in English, as my English was still lost. The officer looked at me in annoyance, but I felt stronger than I did before. Now I was on Egyptian soil, anyway. The officer had his suspicions about me, so he locked me up in a wooden room all by myself. An African soldier stood guard, and I would tell when it was night when I looked out through the cracks and couldn’t see his face, only his teeth. You know, Sheikh Magd, I felt very valuable in that locked room. I rejoiced for the first time in a long time and I remembered my wife and my children and my friends. But I still felt a need to cry. I held back my tears and remembered the sad songs:

Look at this broken, humiliated peasant

In the jaws of a crocodile from ancient times

Tell me your story, friend, and how that came to he.

“A month later they released me, and I said to myself that they must have investigated and found out I’m just a poor Egyptian, and that they were going to let me go. But it didn’t happen that way. They put me in the kitchen to cook for the soldiers, and again with the Indians — as if they knew what had happened before. I said to myself that it was okay, I had to be patient, and asked God to give me patience and He did, and I waited until I saw, with my very own eyes, the English soldiers come back from the borders, crushed by Rommel. It was the first time we heard of Rommel, who had replaced Graziani. I heard that the big English general Ritchie went crazy. I now felt that my rescue would be at the hands of Rommel. It felt strange. I was in my own country — why should I need a German commander to rescue me? But that’s what happened. I was in the kitchen one day when I saw the smoke coming out of the officers’ rooms. They were burning everything quickly and driving oft in their Jeeps and clearing out. t could hear only one word: ‘Rommel.’ Soon the camp was full of Germans, and everything around us was fire and smoke.

“The Germans took me to a high-ranking officer. I was inspired to say ‘Rommel.’ They asked me in German, I said ‘Rommel,’ in English, and I still said ‘Rommel.’ I said to myself, there must be one sane person who will get me out of this mess, which has gone on too long, and the only sane person is Rommel.’

“And they knew that you wanted to see Rommel?”

“Yes, and I did see him. He’s a strange man with a round face, green sunken eves and thinning hair. He didn’t say much. Three days later they took me to see him — three days of terror.”

Dimyan looked at Magd al-Din, saying to himself, “Hamza’s back to his old ways!”

“And in Rommel’s room, I saw a Bedouin man standing next to Rommel, who was sitting down. I told them my story from the beginning and heard the Bedouin translating it into German as Rommel smiled in surprise, his face looking like that of a little child, I swear. He said one sentence, which the Bedouin translated for me. He said that I would stay with them while they chased the English and the Eighth Army, until they reached Alexandria, where I would guide them through its streets, and then they would let me go. At that time I prayed to God that they reach Alexandria quickly. I wondered how the Bedouin knew German and said to myself he must be a spy, dressed like a Bedouin.”

“Okay, Hamza. That’s enough for today. Go to sleep.”

“Wait, Dimyan, the story is about to end. I’m sure you don’t believe me.”

“No, Hamza. It looks like you’ve suffered even more than what you just told us.”

“Afterwards, the Germans advanced to Marsa Matruh. I was at the rear with the supply crews. They assigned me to a jeep driven by a crazy driver who broke my bones by speeding over potholes, and whenever he saw me in pain, he laughed and said ‘Aegypter!’ which means Egyptian in German. I kept saying to myself, ‘Dear God, let it end well.” I was afraid of the landmines. In Marsa Matruh I saw the big battle. I saw the tanks firing, and I saw the tanks blowing up, and I saw the big guns recoiling as they were fired and the planes going and coming from the sea, and at night I heard the moans of the dying and the groans of the wounded. The whole world became a big dusty mass, all black and red. At night I sat in the dark, shrinking in on myself in fear and saying, ‘Please, God, take me now. I’ve had enough.’ But the Germans won and they entered Marsa Matruh and Daba afterwards until they came here. Alexandria was near and no one paid any attention to me. I said to myself that it did not make any sense that Rommel needed someone like me to guide him through the streets of Alexandria. I sat at night singing sad songs:

Time has given me catastrophes that aggravated my ill health.

I was so frightened I did not know what to do.

My heart told me my time was so contrary.

I sat down and wept, my eyes shed tears of blood.

“All the time I was still the crazy jeep driver’s charge. One night he drove me around for more than half an hour and pointed to the stars in the sky, then got off the car, and I followed suit. He pointed forward with his hand and said ‘Alexandria’ several times and gestured for me to go, so I walked like somebody under a spell. I quickly identified a star in front of me. I knew that the sea was to my left and that the soft steady sound I was hearing was that of the waves that I could not see. I kept walking, but after a little while I didn’t hear the sound of the sea, and the stars all looked alike. Then I remembered that armies usually laid land mines when they retreated, and I figured the English must have done that as they retreated before Rommel, and I knew that my end was near and that I would probably step on a landmine in the dark — or even in the daylight! So I sat down on the ground like a lost child and looked at the faraway sky and I said, ‘God, you can see me, and I can’t see you, you can hear me but I can’t hear you. God, I complain to you about my weakness and my lack of options. If you’re with me, please give me a break. I have suffered enough. Almighty God, all I did was stretch out my hand to get a box of cookies for my children. Do I deserve all this torture, most merciful God? Please give me a helping hand. Why are you abandoning me, once to evil enemies who have tortured and demeaned me, and now to the desert, the landmines, and the wolves? Yes, if a landmine doesn’t blow me up, a wolf will surely eat me. Where is your mercy, which encompasses the whole world? Please forgive me and help me.’ I was so tired, Sheikh Magd, that I slept where I sat. Did I sleep long? In a minute, I saw his radiant face, the face of the Prophet. He was wearing green and sitting with his companions, with radiant faces, wearing white. I greeted him, and he returned the greeting. He asked me who I was, and I said to him, Ί am Hamza, O Messenger of God.’ He smiled at me and made room for me to sit with him and said, ‘Come and sit with my friends Abu Bakr and Umar, Hamza, for your name is very dear to me.’ I sat with them, and then I woke up from my sleep rested, as if I’d slept for a hundred years. I was sure that God would help me. I felt a kind, warm hand holding mine and started to walk confidently as his voice — the Prophet’s — told me to walk to the right, and I did, then to the left, and I did. And whenever my feet sank in the sand I would be frightened, and he would tell me not to fear, and my fright would go away. I walked until morning. It was the first time I had seen the day so beautiful and sweet, and the sun so happy — yes, that’s how I saw it. I said, ‘Please God, bestow your full favor upon me,’ and as soon as I said that, I saw an Indian studier coming from out of nowhere. It was he who took me to the English headquarters, where they wondered how I survived all the minefields. They were suspicious, but I finally remembered all the English words that I had forgotten and I told them the story. They kept me for three days until they were sure I was telling the truth, and then the officer brought me to you, praise the Lord — I’ve missed you so much!”