When I return to Alexandria which I had left in 1949; I stayed in Rouchdy, with Poppy, my Greek childhood friend and neighbour: across from "Villa Léontine" built by our family on "Rue du Maréchal Allemby", now renamed "Shara Kafr Abdu" Poppy lived in her father's villa, reputed for its prolific and fragrant jasmines, thickly intertwining the wrought iron railing surrounding their garden. Poppy, now widowed had married a Copt, an architecture university professor. Now, in the setting of her childhood, in the family home, she lived alone, off her deceased husband's pension. Some Fellah (villager) had bought the six-story building towered over Poppy's home. It had belonged to the Zombos widow. The present owner had many children, and gave an apartment to each of his children as they married. He was now running out of apartments, and had made offers to buy Poppy's property, but she had emphatically declined. The strategy that ensued eventually made Poppy sell. On her Balcony, she would repeatedly find dirty, smelly voodoo rag dolls, wrapped in strings of hair, with pins stuck in them. The zeballa (garbage) collector only picked up, every few days, the garbage of those who paid for the service. Poppy of course paid to have it done, unlike those free loading neighbours who dropped their unwrapped heaps, by her front gate. With the heat, they did not take long to deteriorate, and for bugs to swarm on those exposed rotting masses. When the stench had travelled beyond Poppy's territory, reaching those neighbours responsible for the disgusting build up; they would come, set fire to it. Sometimes high flames would threaten Poppy's home. When she complained, they would laugh it off with "Eskoti ya Marica ! " (Shut up Marica. "Marica" being a common name for a Greek woman).
"L' Allah h'a Il l' Allah, Mohammed Rasul Allah ! "
Alexandria had awakened. Dogs barked. Donkeys brayed, while the impatient, behind steering wheels aggressively hooted their horn. Serious bargaining was in progress while peddlers called out to acquaint you with their wares, chanting repeatedly. "Ya haga helwa, ya lili ya wali. Tirbatata Tirbatata ! "That must be the arkisous (liquorice drink) vendor. "Robabekya ! Robabekya!" called out the vendor of second hand things (his name had derived from "roba vechia" meaning "old rags" in Italian). The nahas (cleaner of pans) announced his passage, crying "Nahas ! Nahas! " accompanying himself with the banging of copper ware. "Gelati" yelled the Ice cream vendor, alternating with the "Gala gala! " (Travelling magician). From a distant cafe, a loud speaker blasted the wailing songs of Om Calsoun, in competition with a nearby organ grinder. A quarrel had erupted: "Ihhri betak! Ebn el Kalb! (May your home burn! Son of a bitch!) an the shawish (police man) interjected with whistle blows … And as the day progressed, more sounds built up the crescendo, of this unstructured symphony, which was THE SOUND OF SILENCE… in Alexandria.