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To begin with, his name was not "Mike", but Mohammed: he had changed his name in England when he noticed that if he was in a bar, and a mate called out, "Hey Mohammed! You know, I think it's going to be coffee," Mike says earnestly, the sun setting in the desert hills behind him, with the Valley of the Kings just beyond.
You know, it's the system in England, asking for coffee, because it's considered vulgar to ask for sex. It is British women who taught me the idea of giving pleasure.
Now, I can resist for about an hour. They're cold. But all the women--trust me--l00 percent of them are circumcised. Rich, poor, every woman. I tell myself I should never have left Egypt.
Then I wouldn't know the difference. The men here, they are satisfied. They have sex for two minutes, just to relieve themselves, and the women lie like boards. My brothers, for them it's like that. What do they know? They're farmers. They have never slept with tourists. Mike shrugged over his beer. I spend the day with tourists to pass the time. Like with you, we had a chance to talk, and so we passed the time. And I will never again marry again.
I'll just have an affair here and there, that's it. He had been married, he had told me, for two weeks in an arranged marriage--as are most in Egypt, he explained.