Although he does not live there M______ stays with his
friend A____ in Tibah, 15 km east of Luxor. A____ studies at the nearby Faculty
of Art. His paintings are easily the best thing in the college, though staff
and students alike disparage his work. 'Drawing is not the only thing' they
say. Indeed.
M______, though still at secondary school, draws constantly,
filling sketchbooks with cars, monsters, warriors and weapons. All the things a
modern comic book hero might need. I urge him to draw what he sees outside as
well. M'omil, he says. Boring. But then asks for a drawing of a
particular tree, to use in his work.
A____ draws everything. Boats, villages, girls from his
class. Younger siblings, animals, architecture, satellite dishes. Pots and
jars. Lamps, carpets, cloth, water. All with an astonishing technical grace.
Tibah itself is a dormitory suburb for university students
and workers from Luxor. It is a riot of concrete formwork, freshly laid lawns,
wide and empty streets. There are plentiful parks, or at least the spaces where
they should be. Walking around with M______ I comment that this town is either
the future or the very distant and abandoned past. There is no way to tell
which from current appearances.
Although there are a handful of established blocks, with
flame trees that reach past the fourth storey, most of the dwellings are either
brand new or in various stages of construction. Unlike Luxor with its plentiful
amenities, both open and convert, there is only one tea shop, housed in the
central bus station. There is nowhere to buy credit for your mobile phone, and
bread is only available in the morning.
Quite how this will change as the city fills with residents
moved to make way for Luxor's open air museum is not known. Perhaps buildings
will accrete in the spaces between the tidily organised apartments. Footpath
vendors and street stalls. Coffee shops and fruit sellers. All that makes it
possible to live, everyday, in any city around the world.
