Ahmed Fagih - Charles Diana & Me

Ten of Ahmed Jagihs best short stories are included in this memorable collection providing a reading experience that is both entertaining and socially relevant. Although focusing on contemporary themes such as the conflict between self and society, and the tension between conservative concepts and modern values, Jagih retains his signature style of writing. Always poetic, with a characteristic mixture of illusion and reality, the author brings to Western culture stories that have delighted Arabic audiences for years.

First published in 2000 by
Kegan Paul International Limited

This edition first published in 2009 by
Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN

Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada
by Routledge
270 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

Ahmed Fagih, 2000

Transferred to Digital Printing 2009

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 10: 0-710-30631-8 (hbk)
ISBN 13: 978-0-710-30631-9 (hbk)

Publishers Note
The publisher has gone to great lengths to ensure the quality of this reprint but points out that some imperfections in the original copies may be apparent. The publisher has made every effort to contact original copyright holders and would welcome correspondence from those they have been unable to trace.

Charles, Diana and Me and Other Stories

Contents

Charles, Diana and Me

M y remote, voiceless relationship with Prince Charles dates back to when the Prince placed the engagement ring on Lady Diana Spencers finger. His extraordinary choice of this particular woman was what made me snap out of my isolation, read the papers and watch T.V. once again; the major portion of my time and interest was devoted to news of Prince Charles and his charming fiance. The engagement made me discover that I had something in common with Prince Charles, which I will proceed to tell you without much ado. Years before Lady Diana was born, I came across a book of selected love poems; on its cover was a picture of a face of a young woman, exactly like that of the face of the young woman whom Prince Charles brought from an obscure world into the limelight. It was a simple black and white sketch, devoid of any embellishment, just black lines on white paper, portraying a face with joyful, glowing eyes, looking at a dreamy faraway place, full of innocence and a mixture of royal pride.

And so a dream world was created for me, weaved out of the love poems in the anthology, the drawing of the anonymous artist and aided by my early days of youth. It was a dream that developed and grew, as time went by, to take the form of a woman, lent, by my imagination, a voice, scent and colour; lent a life, motion and warmth all of its own. Her picture conjures sweet feminine insinuations, resonations and reverberations. Eventually, this woman comes to inhabit my heart and fill all its emptiness and I find myself madly and deeply in love with her. In my sleep and in my wakefulness I see no woman but her. And so from my early youth, I became enthralled by that simple, nave drawing of the face of the yet to be born Diana. I could not, thereafter, disentangle myself from her for she became my whole life from that day onwards; a continuous quest for a woman like the one in the drawing.

I have met many women; sought to have affairs with some of them, but inevitably, they would come up against the picture of the perfect woman, the woman of the picture. My choice of a profession as a wandering reporter was only because it would allow me the opportunity to search for her in the different areas of the world, after I had failed to find her among the women of my own city. I roamed the globe far and wide. On many an occasion, I thought I saw her among a party crowd, or standing at one of the train stations, or yet again reading a book under the light of a faraway window. The bother and pains I endured to get close to her: I would wait for her at stations, observe her from opposite that window or frequent public places, so as to get a really good look, only to discover that it wasnt her, so Id leave and start my quest anew, in other places and on new pavements.

Suddenly I was caught unawares to find that I was an old man and still a bachelor. All I reaped from my quest was pain and disappointment. I stopped following the course of the sun from East to West and wretchedly returned to my home. I got used to being a bachelor. It became a way of life with which I became contented. I could not change it; Id realised that the dream woman, for whom I had gone in search of, will always remain locked in the realm of dreams and fancy.

Then came the sunrise of my life, re-kindling it with excitement: the moment when the face of Diana beamed from across the newspapers and T.V. screen proving to me that the dream woman had a faithful and near-like genius personification in real life. There she was, as I had seen her four decades ago, upon the cover of my poetry book. Watching her in the company of her fianc, her walk, her smile, her words, I only saw what I had already seen in my imagination over the past forty years. Through all those years, Id lived in the company of that smile, felt its sweetness on my tongue; saw those bewitching eyes in their star-like luminosity, made more dazzling by the rapid movement of the eye lashes. While, that nightingale voice was like dewy nectar quenching the thirst of my happiness. It is her. That nose, mouth, eyes, hair neck and ears; those fingers, arms, chest, waist and legs. All that luminosity and transparency. This velvety charisma, full of pride, all that innocence that belongs to heavenly creatures. Exactly as Id cherished her in my memory. Shed inhabited me all those long years of my life, with the selfsame features, once drawn by a genius of an artist, to suit my hearts desire.

True, she has come forty years too late, but I dont regret it. In fact, Im glad shes here at long last and I thank God for that, for now I know for certain that my dream was not an insanity or an illusion. I am thankful for that handsome Prince because hes found her, and that fate should will it that our taste be the same; and our sense of beauty too. That he should choose what my heart has chosen. Undoubtedly, being a Prince, blessed with the peoples love and having everything to live for, has made him much luckier that I in finding this girl that I had searched for all my entire life, in vain.

To him I owe a lot of gratitude and thankfulness.

And so began my relationship with the Prince, whom Id considered a kindred brother. I, also, started to follow his news and read everything about him, never letting up even when I was in my home country which is far removed from his. I traced the developing relationship between him and his fiance. Their stupendous wedding day was a feast day for me. I made sure I attended it in London. I even took a room in a hotel opposite the palace in order to be close to the scene of events. Joyfully I took to the streets, dancing and singing with the people, exchanging toasts and watching the royal, bridal carriage. Then I was off to my room to see the televised wedding ceremony, live from St. Pauls cathedral to witness the actual moment of the happy union. When I heard that the Prince and Princess would come out onto the balcony to wave to the crowd, I was out on the streets again standing in front of Buckingham Palace, where I mingled with the crowd, looking up at the high balcony in a state of pure ecstasy and bewilderment, at the dream that was becoming a reality right before my very eyes, at the Princess whod emerged from the palace of legends, and there, standing right beside her, is her Prince in full royal splendour; both waving at the crowd.