The Coffee Bean
Hassan woke up, trying to see everything's okay. "Fawzeya is yelling in the kitchen, for the tenth time this morning", he thought. "Oh… and I still have to go to work today… Wait a second... did I just say WORK??! What time is it? 9:00am?! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
"No, no… don't panic, Hassan. It's going to be okay. Everything's okay. Wasn't it said yesterday that we're on duty starting 11:00 am? Yes, yes… now I remember"…
A million blurry thoughts were spinning in Hassan's mind on that morning. As an LE500-salaried workman, he was as punctual and diligent as much as he could. For the last fifteen years of his life, since he got his diploma, he's been doing the very same job, the only difference was that his title changed a couple of times, and now he has an office to share with a couple of boring bossy colleagues.
Fawzeya's screams are getting louder, this woman needs help! He felt he had to leave bed to silent her. The memory of the calm, pretty, slender, gentle Fawzeya has molten throughout the many years of marriage, for many reasons he couldn't count.
Before he could move from his bed, Fawzeya got a phone call which turned her voice from loud yelling to whispering, or more precisely "humming" over the phone. He knew she's not the one who dialed, not because of the unheard telephone ring, but simply because he didn't pay the bills, and their line was going to be cut off in a few days.
A good morning, isn't it?
Hassan slowly dragged himself out of his bed, washed up and dressed himself carelessly, grabbed the stuff he takes to work, wished his wife a "good morning" which she didn’t reply to because she wasn't listening… He then set off for work, stood for 10 minutes waiting for the microbus, pushed a few men until he found a seat, and rode to work. It was an hour and a half journey, for the streets were more like a closed tuna tin which was about to burst. He was there, at Al Tahrir Square, a quarter of an hour early, proudly so. He jumped off the vehicle and rushed to his dim-lit office, but on his way he accidentally bumped into his boss. He greeted him, yet the virtually-always bad tempered guy didn't seem to be so pleased to see him, as usual, but that time he was sort of mad, in the sense of REALLY mad at Hassan, who was totally oblivious to the reason. As the guy began his ascending volume of yelling, Hassan slowly understood what has happened. Some snitch has told the boss about that day Hassan left early to go attend a parents-teachers meeting at Hamada and Menna's school. The angry man started his lecture about responsibility and duty, to which Hassan usually listened to the end; yet that time, his patience had reached its peak and he couldn't do anything but burst into a hysterical laugh, maybe to prevent himself from shouting back at his boss. "What the hell do you find funny here? Enta beted7ak 3la 5ebtak?" the guy asked. But Hassan didn't bother to reply to the surprised guy's question.
The good news was that the useless speech reached its end; the bad news was that Hassan was fired. The notion of himself being jobless struck as a dangerous form of desperation, and a queer feeling of the uselessness of the last 15 years of his life, in fact, his entire existence.
Hassan walked away; his face expressionless, yet a hundred screams were inside, waiting to be unleashed, to escape out of their steel cage. He rode back to the "Maghraby" Alley, trying not to think about what he has done. Finding himself nearby the Masreyeen Coffee Shop, he found a place there and ordered black coffee. He tried to enjoy Um Kolthoum's beautiful singing, if there was anything about life to be enjoyed. 2 minutes later, he had the small cup in his hands. He waited for it to cool down; he began sipping the bitter tasteless black thing. He started questioning himself about the meaning of his life, his work, the reason why he's here, and the reason why this cup of coffee is here. He knew he sounded weird, but just then, staring at the cup of coffee in amazement, he wondered how the coffee bean would stand all that, starting from being picked from its natural environment, to being ground in severe harsh conditions, to being packed helplessly, and sent away to other countries.
Yet when it's put in boiled water, it's capable of changing the entire atmosphere; it colors its world with its own brush… black. It scents the air with its charming smell, and most of all, it alters the mood of Man, the most complicated creature on the planet. How strong! Why should such a tiny thing be stronger than Man? How could it endure all that? Why can't Man prove to himself that he's better than caffeine?
Hassan suddenly put down his cup, causing some hot droplets of that now-beautiful syrup to spill on his hands. He left LE 2 on the serving table and got to his feet, rushed to his block, ran up the staircase, but he was to nervous to use his own keys to open the door, so he knocked hard; Fawzeya found it strange to find him home at 12:30, yet astonished to find him giving her a massive hug out of no reason and telling he how much he loves her the way she is, and that he wanted to go pick Menna and Hamada from school.
"What's wrong, Hassan?" she asked.
He looked to her in the eye, with traces of hope, joy, love, anticipation and excitement on his red-cheeked face, and cried out loud: "I'LL BE A COFFEE BEAN!! That's all!! That's how my life should be… A COFFEE BEAN!!"
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