Cairo, October 1936
My dearest Hans,
I was overjoyed to receive your letter with its eloquent description of Berlin and the Olympics. If only life arranged itself according to our wishes! I would so much have loved to stay for the games, but I could not justify the extra year to my family. I didn’t realize how fond I had become of the city until I returned home. Though I dearly love the city of my birth, the same climate that sustains jasmine and hyacinth vines encourages the growth of cockroaches the size of Berlin mice. No matter how often we clean them out (I think the poison makes them stronger!), before we turn around there they are again, sharing our food. I sorely miss the order and cleanliness of a northern place. A few cold days and all your insects are gone. Though I do not miss the brawls in the street.
I don’t know how you feel about this, but I will only say it is too bad that your “Revolution” has eliminated some of the best doctors from the hospital.
Now that I am home, I am becoming impatient with the attitude here that Egyptians can succeed only at business in cotton or beet sugar or carpets. Though my father boasts about his “doctor son” to his friends, he insists I join him in the cotton business. He longs to add “and Son” to the Hassan Cotton Company. He says a medical degree gets you position in the community, but not enough money to make a comfortable living. I didn’t study medicine for the position!
My father has forgotten how he disobeyed his own father during the European war by going to Turkey with his stocks of cotton and loading them on a ship to Germany. He made his fortune in contraband cotton. His contacts in Turkey later found a German nanny for me — what status! I thank her for my familiarity with the language.
You may remember my fascination with snakes (how many times did I apologize for scaring you with that harmless little devil?). Egypt is home to some of the deadliest. Yet their venom may be employed to help mankind. I cannot think of a better way to spend my life than to work at turning poison into medicine that helps people. But my father rules the family with an iron hand and I shall have to convince him the venture can be profitable. Research with venom requires patience and many small animals for subjects. There is no shortage of small animals, but the transfer of results to human patients will be a tricky business. It will be difficult to develop a drug without harming the people who try it in the early stages. It will take all my powers of persuasion to convince my father that money can be made in snake venom. He has given me a year to prove myself and show him I have some sense. For now I have joined the medical clinic of a cousin who allows me two days to see my own patients.
Despite the upheaval that has taken over your country, the people are far better off than in Egypt. You would not believe the poverty and filth the majority live in. There is no work for them so they live on the edge of starvation. They certainly cannot afford a doctor when they get sick. And yet it is the poor who need medical attention the most. It is enough to break one’s heart. In the city it is an effort to remember that Egypt was a superior culture four thousand years ago, though evidence of it lies just beyond, in the desert. I am still mesmerized by the vision of the three pyramids on the plateau of Giza as you drive southwest of Cairo. There also lies the Great Sphinx with the head of a man and body of a lion, symbols of wisdom and strength. Where is that wisdom and strength now? By the way — you know the famous profile? The nose was shot off by Napoleon’s soldiers for target practice. I’m afraid this is our experience with European “civilization.”
But enough of that — tell me about your medical practice and how things have changed in the hospital — and the city — since I was there. I long to hear about the place I called home for five happy years. And I implore you to remember you always have a place to stay when you visit — and I can promise my mother will treat you like a prince. I know it is a long way to come, but please consider it for my sake.
Your affectionate friend,
Mohammed
P.S. How is your dear mother? I know her illness must weigh on your mind.
Berlin, December 1936
Dearest Mohammed,
Your letter reminded me how much I enjoyed your company during our training. I am only sorry you had to return to your homeland where I am sure you are much needed by your parents.
As to the letting go of the Jewish doctors from the hospitals, yes, some were good, but they took up too many spaces, squeezing out Aryan doctors who had every right to practise. Of course, some people will suffer, but there is a purpose in the end. The system was not working, and now, despite the hardship for some, things have become balanced and German doctors can practise medicine the way we were meant to.
I long ago forgave you about the incident with the snake. I must admit, after I settled down and stopped shaking, the little fellow began to interest me. Your idea about transforming venom into medicine is exciting, and I am sure your father will come round. I hope you will write and let me know how your plan develops.
Thank you for asking about my mother. Sadly, her illness is progressing and she does not recognize me. Her memory is gone — she doesn’t even remember who she is, never mind me. What must it be like, to forget everything? One becomes an empty vessel and the question arises — who are we if we cannot remember? It has made me realize we are our memories, for without them we are nothing. I’m sorry if this depresses you, but I rarely speak of her to anyone.
Since I was a boy I’ve dreamt of seeing the pyramids and the Sphinx. As much as I would love to make the trip and visit you (and all the insects you complain about) I cannot see a time in the near future as my practice is extremely busy. The political situation is also uncertain and makes travel difficult. Perhaps when you have got your snakes together and need someone to scare — a year or two? — things will be more settled here. It is Christmas now and rather lonely with just my brother to celebrate with.
Fond regards,
Hans
Cairo, February 1937
My dearest friend,
In all my years of training to be a physician I never imagined I would see such suffering. I keep it from my father — he would disapprove mightily — but I will confide in you. One day a week I spend treating the paupers who live in the northern cemetery. It is but one of a group of vast cemeteries stretching along the base of the Moquattam Hills. Tourists call the place “City of the Dead.” You must understand Egyptian cemeteries are not like European ones, but are a labyrinth of room-like tombs and mausoleums. The poor who live there left their villages in search of work. They earn a few pennies here and there, never enough to pay rent in the overcrowded city. Thus they end up squatting in tombs or in hovels where tombs used to be.
After fourteen hours of seeing patients suffering from the most devastating diseases — and who could never afford a doctor — I cannot see straight, and stumble home. Some of my German professors thought I should be concerned with the tropical diseases I would find in my homeland. What romantics! Those are nothing compared to the pervasive infectious diseases arising from the overcrowding and general filth that breeds vermin of all kinds! The feces in the streets (both animal and human), the smell of urine in surprising places, like public buildings where men relieve themselves in the stairwells.
To all this, add the backwardness of folk remedies that defy all logic. Mothers of infants with diarrhea stop feeding them altogether because of some misguided “traditional” advice from their mothers and aunts. What a calamity! When I tell them to give their babies as much liquid as they will take, they shake their heads in puzzlement and tell me I was educated in the West where human bodies must be different. They hang amulets around the child’s neck and say, “Allah will cure her.” And then they are horrified when their children die! I cannot tell you how demoralized I am after such a day. Yet they need my services infinitely more than the middle-class patients who come to my clinic with colds and stomach ailments.
There is an organization, the Muslim Brotherhood, trying to help, set up ten years ago by a devout Muslim schoolteacher named Hasan al-Banna. They send people to deliver food to the poor, set up schools for the children, and organize prayer meetings. Al-Banna is a great admirer of your Adolf Hitler and has written to him many times. He has strong anti-British feelings, as do many here. Though our country has formally been granted independence under King Farouk, in reality the English still control everything here. They are in the barracks, the police, the army, and one is hard-pressed to find an Egyptian irrigation inspector or judge.
Germany is constantly in the news. Tell me how things are for you and whether there is still violence in the streets.
Your friend,
Mohammed
Berlin, April 1937
Dearest Mohammed,
It pains me that you are so upset by the conditions in your city. Though it shows you have a generous heart, I must say I agree with what your father would say, once you tell him, that your time would be more usefully spent on other things. Establishing yourself in a practice, for one. The snake venom idea, for another.
Ministering to the poor is very idealistic, I’m sure, but best left to the religious orders. I’m afraid I feel the effort is fruitless for someone in your position. Before you call me heartless, hear me out. The poor, as people say, will always be with us. You can relieve their suffering for the moment, but if their living conditions are rife with disease, they will not stay well for long. It is like trying to make water run uphill. You may succeed for an instant, but then gravity takes over and all the effort is wasted. You have too much talent for such folly. You must be more selfish and look at the broader picture.
I hope this doesn’t offend you — I consider you one of my few friends and am only concerned for your future. What happened to your snake venom proposal? I am personally very interested in the idea of researching the venom. Perhaps we could collaborate in some way. I find seeing patients all day rather tedious. An old classmate of mine works in a laboratory at the university and has offered me space. Would the venom withstand shipping? I would, of course, pay for all costs. Please think about it.
My country has grown strong in the years since Hitler became führer. We have recently won back, without force, the Rhineland, a strip of land along the Rhine, which was demilitarized at Versailles at France’s insistence. We are not children, to be told where we can and cannot go! And by those self-righteous fops, the French!
Fondest regards,
Hans
Cairo, January 1938
Dearest friend,
I’m sorry for not writing sooner, but I must lie low. Since I started working with the Muslim Brotherhood, the police are after me — the government kowtows to the English (known here as a government of pimps). They fear us because we provide services they should but don’t. We’re winning the hearts of the people so the English worry about insurrection. As well they should. All these years they’ve lorded it over us and expect our gratitude for the “superior” culture they’ve thrust upon us. But they’ve taken from us more than they’ve given. Most of the people are starving and disease-ridden. You would not believe how many children die because they are malnourished. Inshallah, God willing, our efforts will help to save some.
In the meantime I have started raising a kind of viper that the Bedouins have shown me, since it is native to the desert. The work itself — milking venom from the vipers’ fangs — is painstaking and results in but a tiny amount of clear liquid. Only a tiny amount can be used at any rate, if we intend not to kill the animal subjects. I pay people for cats and dogs from the street and we inject them with minute quantities of venom. It’s hard to adjust the dose not to kill them. I have begun to mix the venom with saline for better control. We have given the snakes English names — Edward, Victoria, and George after the most recent monarchs, though I feel more affection for the snakes.
May Allah grant you health and strength.
Your friend,
Mohammed