The Colors of Infamy by Albert Cossery

failure.”
    Suleyman was being drawn in more than he would have liked, but the circumstances offered no way out. His interlocutor was leading things and it would have been impolite not to follow him in his rather hasty conclusions. Th e discussion was just beginning and he had to appear friendly, understanding, and even capable of generosity. To this effect he had brought with him a judiciously calculated sum of money that he intended to place on the table at an opportune moment to set the transaction in motion. In his mind, nothing had changed; just business as usual — only the partners were different.
    â€œI trust that my friend Nimr will forgive me, but it has always seemed to me that his teachings lacked virulence,” resumed Karamallah. “For his students’ participation in the world’s future he preaches virtue, disdain for money, and modesty. Can you tell me, Excellency, you who know all the pitfalls and difficulties of business — is it possible to be virtuous and become rich? I wanted to see you to ask you this fundamental question that harks back to ancient times.”
    Suleyman looked at his three companions one after the other, hoping for a sign, a clue that would set him on the road to a suitable response. Instead, they seemed amused by his hesitation.
    â€œWell, it’s more complicated than that,” he said at last, as if he were excusing himself.
    â€œA sublime response!” cried Karamallah. “ Th ank you for providing me with it. Of course, I didn’t expect any less from you, Excellency.”
    Karamallah’s wonder was not feigned; he was truly amazed by the persistence and extent of such an inept ideology; he’d never thought it could flourish in sun-drenched lands. So, the old idea dreamed up by illustrious thinkers from cold climes — according to which the world was complicated and absurd — had crossed oceans and borders to come lodge itself in the brain of this abominable crook on the banks of the Nile. Th is vileness, which consisted in denying the Edenic simplicity of the world, served the interests of the powerful because it justified all the hardships endured by the ignorant masses. Karamallah rebelled against this pernicious disinformation with all the might of his great love of life.
    â€œCould His Excellency tell us about his personal success?” Ossama asked. “I must confess that, for me, there is something magical about it.”
    â€œ Th ere is no magic at all,” Suleyman assured him. “It is the determination I bring to my work that lies at the heart of my success.”
    â€œAnd what a success it is!” declared Karamallah. “Unfortunately it’s been spoiled by that horrid catastrophe. I am so sorry for you. Unless I’m very much mistaken, it was nothing but bad luck. Or is there some other explanation?”
    â€œI am also extremely sorry, believe me. But nothing can be done to prevent natural disasters. Th ey’re a curse that spares no one. And so I don’t complain.”
    â€œNatural disasters?” asked Karamallah, surprised. “What do you mean?”
    â€œMay Allah keep you from ever finding yourself in such a situation. Who in the world could have expected an earthquake on such a quiet summer night? Well, the earth quaked, creating an unfathomable mystery around Nasr City. We will never know how or why I was made the victim of nature’s whim.”
    â€œAn earthquake? Where?” asked Nimr worriedly, taking off his glasses in order to perceive the event more clearly.
    â€œDon’t be alarmed,” Karamallah advised. “We escaped this earthquake — it didn’t do us the honor of coming through our neighborhood. I find that it lacked tact in respect to us.”
    Karamallah’s pleasant little speech seemed full of innuendo to Suleyman, like a clever refutation of the lovely tale he had just told.
    â€œWhat? You didn’t know about