A memory of John in Egypt
John was a wonderful travelling companion. He talked to everyone – and made friends on all sides. We went twice to Egypt at a time when the radical left in the country was consolidating and John was able to pass on some of his experience to young revolutionaries. On one occasion, after several days of intense meetings in Cairo on Marxist theory, strategy and tactics, John said that he urgently needed to play some chess: where could he go? what did I know about chess in the city?
Despite a good knowledge of Cairo, as a chess incompetent I had no idea – except a vague memory of seeing chessboards at a bar downtown. In the evening we set off for Al Hurreya, a cavernous place in Midan Falaki and one of the few places in the city where Egyptians could freely buy beer. For generations it had been a hangout for liberals and the left – and sure enough, in a corner away from the drinkers, there were three tables with chess games under way.
John’s eyes lit up: “Excellent”. He stood above one of the games – towering over the players – and waved me off. After a beer I left – and didn’t see him again until the next morning, when he clattered exhausted into the flat in which we were staying. I asked about the Al Hurreya experience – and received an account that could only have come from John.
“I watched few games,” he said, “and then they invited me to play. I lost a couple but then started to win – a lot. I beat everyone in the bar who could play and so they called up their champion. I beat him too and they made a phonecall for the top chess man in the city – and, well, I won that as well.
“They kept telling me that I was ‘Al Malik’, and someone with a few words of English translated… that I was ‘The King’ and then ‘Al-Far’un’ – ‘The Pharoah’.
“I had a good time but unfortunately I didn’t have the Arabic for a sustained critique of the monarchy.”
Phil Marfleet
