Went to the nightclub but not as seedy as I’d hoped, crummy belly dancing and singing to a lazy Arab orchestra, we sat in the back at the cheapest beer drinking tables, front row is whiskey by the bottle, in between is whiskey by the glass, a Saudi prince was there with his tutor throwing £10 notes on stage drawing much applause. The Emcee kept interrupting the music to toast the People of Saudi Arabia and Prince Ja’afar. The prince wanted the dancer in the blonde wig…News in the paper today that police busted a prostitution ring near Groppis catching many Saudis in the act. I’d like to have seen the looks on their faces.
-Letter Home, November 28, 1978
In Cairo in those days if you told a real estate broker, Simsār in Arabic, meaning Cockroach, that you wanted to rent a Shāqa Mafrūsha, a Furnished Apartment, they would immediately think you wanted to entertain hookers, because so many low rent Saudis did exactly that, unable to afford London or Marbella prices for either the place or the girls. When Michael, Robert, and I told our broker that we wanted to rent a three bedroom apartment, he gave us all a wink. Michael was the best student in our class and could have given the broker at least ten different synonyms for Prostitute, going back to the earliest days of Meccan Islam and forward to the street euphemisms the nightclub Emcee whispered into Prince Ja’afar’s ear.
