Maria liked my plan. She was to attend Dr Ramses El Khoury’s evening family planning clinic as a patient.
The Shah Medical Centre was on the first floor of an old block in crowded central Cairo. When she arrived all nine seats of the waiting room were occupied by mothers, some with young children crawling or playing on the floor.
The plan was that she was to be his last patient of the evening so she returned to the street to wait. It was nine thirty when she tried again.
At nine forty-five, a buzzer sounded and a red light came on over Dr Ramses door. It was her turn.
But it was not a man who sat there. Maria had expected – and so had I
– that it would be a middle-aged man. Instead, it was a middle-aged woman in a white jacket.
The office, clinic, or whatever it claimed to be was much larger than the waiting room and Marie quickly took in a cubicle surrounded by a green plastic curtain in one corner, a wash basin, dispensers for antiseptic soap, a box of latex gloves, a glass cabinet of bottles, an open box containing stainless steel instruments, and a grey metal filing cabinet. But the room clearly had a man’s influence. There were dusty files, old copies of the Lancet and a stuffed bird, a white egret, in a glass box high up on a top shelf.
The woman beckoned her to sit. She was a big woman wearing a long black skirt beneath the white jacket, and her hair was held back by several gold clips. Wide gold rings inlaid with blue stones embellished several of her fingers as she swung around in the swivel chair to face Maria. They spoke in Arabic.
“Sorry, but I was expecting to see Dr Ramses El Khoury,” said Maria.
“He is away. I am his deputy. I am Dr Fatima El Badry. How can I help?”
“Are you often here?”
“I am always here when Dr Ramses is abroad. Why do you ask?”
“I need advice on contraception,” Maria said.
“Your name?”
“Ajeelah,”
“Are you married?”
“Well, soon.”
“Then why don’t you abstain until you are married?”
“My husband-to-be insists.”
“Ignore him.”
“But…”
“Do you want children?”
“Not yet.”
“Then abstention is the best policy. Delay until you are entirely sure.
Then restrict yourself to a maximum of one child. The world is far too crowded.”
I had given Maria some ideas on what to say if this subject arose.
Agree. Don’t argue. Develop a rapport. Don’t annoy or offend.
“I totally agree,” said Maria. “Just look at the street outside, and it’s quite late. It’s so crowded, and all you can hear is traffic. But what can I do?”
“Lead by example. We need to reduce the population, not increase it.”
“We discussed the subject at university just last week,” Marie said.
“You are a student?”
“I study history and economics. Over half of the students agreed we need to reduce the population.”
“They are right. And simple contraception is not enough. That will take many generations. There is no time left. Governments should act before it is too late.”
“That is also what we agreed, but no one knew what to do.”
“There are solutions.”
“I hope so, but what shall I say to my husband-to-be?”
“Tell him to wait. You must live up to the name your father gave you, which means wise and sensible.”
“But it is very difficult, Doctor. Are you married?”
“Yes.”
“And do you have children?”
The doctor looked away, and Maria recognised the hesitation. Perhaps it was impertinent to ask a doctor such a question. Nevertheless, she got an answer. “Ah, yes.”
“Can I ask how many you have?”
To Maria’s ear, it sounded even more impertinent, but I had told her not to be deterred. “ Push, push, push,” I’d said. “You will not get much time with this Dr Ramses El Khoury. Try to engage him in general conversation for as long as you can.”
“Two,” the doctor replied. “But we are a family who work hard. We are educated, we are ambitious, and we have money to invest and to educate our children. There are too many who cannot afford children.
We must deal with them.”
“I so agree,” gushed Maria. “And does your husband share your opinions?”
“Of course. They are his opinions.”
Maria got up. “Thank you. You have been a big help to me in making my decision. I will tell my husband-to-be about your good advice.”
As she shut the door, Maria looked back and noticed a faint smile on the face of Dr Fatima El Badry.
For Maria, the name El Badry had meant nothing, but for me, it was perhaps the biggest piece of the jigsaw yet. Maria took a taxi back to my hotel and reported in. I then told her to meet me the following afternoon.