of apology. Thus the supreme status of Alku in the palace was confirmed, and ministers and politicians all continued to curry his favor despite deep resentment that they struggled to hide. For them, Alku was no more than a black servant, a simple valet, ignorant, vulgar, riffraff, but they were careful to keep on his good side due to his endless ability both to create mischief and to be useful. Alku, at will, could cause anyone to gain or lose the king’s favor. He held the keys to the king’s personality and could read his state of mind at any moment. Moreover, Alku had enormous life experience as well as a sharp, instinctive brain that enabled him to see right through people with one glance. One might go so far as to say that his manner of presenting facts and personages to His Majesty should be taught in diplomacy courses. He had only to look at the king to know whether his thinking was going to be clear or muddled, and Alku would appropriately choose to present or withhold matters from him accordingly.
Alku could carry out His Majesty’s orders for days without conferring with him, and at other times he knew by experience that he should ask the king for his opinion. In making his report to the king about a particular person, for example, he never spoke in a straightforward manner but discreetly dropped a fact here and there and repeated certain other people’s views in such a way that the king always ended up reaching a decision that Alku desired. Alku practiced all these skills with the ease and self-assurance of a talented soccer player kicking the ball at the goal from an angle he had practiced a thousand times— and scoring. His role overseeing the king was one side of Alku’s duties, and he had another no less important job: he also oversaw all the servants in all the royal palaces. Second only to God Almighty, he was the sole controller of their lives, their earnings and their fates.
If the palace needed more servants, Alku would send men dressed in the local galabiyya to Aswan and Nubia in the south of Egypt to scour the area for men who fit the bill: intelligent, in good health, fit and of good name. The promising candidates would then be shipped off to Abdin Palace in Cairo, where Alku would look them over and either take them on or order them to be sent back. Just from looking them up and down and having a few short words with them, Alku could spot an impertinent or angry type, a nervy, obstinate reprobate or one addicted to alcohol or hashish, each of which were enough to rule a man right out. The surviving candidates would spend a few months in the two-story school building in the garden of Abdin Palace, learning how to serve in the palace— “l’art du service,” as Alku used to call it in his supercilious French accent. Their training consisted of four rules:
First: Personal hygiene
A shower must be taken daily both in summer and in winter, the body scrubbed with particular attention to the neck, the nape and the armpits. Deodorant must be used. Everyone must be clean shaven. Teeth must be brushed with toothpaste morning and night. Hair must be washed and worn with a part. Careful attention must be given to the heels, and nails, both finger and toe, must be kept trimmed.
Alku imposed the hygiene regulations with such severity that they gradually became second nature to the servants. At any moment he might carry out an inspection, ordering a servant to open his mouth or to show him his neck or fingernails. He would often tell a servant to remove his shoes and socks to check his feet. And woe betide him if Alku thought his toenails too long or if his feet were dirty. He would order that man beaten immediately but not before roaring at him, “How can you serve the king with filthy feet, you animal!”
Second: Attire
All work clothes, whatever their type or color, must be clean and well ironed. A chipped button, a wrinkled collar or a spot would result in punishment. Socks must be clean and new and worn uncrumpled. Shoes must be cleaned and polished to perfection. Daily.
Third: Service etiquette
Possibly the most important lesson: service requires a capacity for subservience in the face of opulence, an ability to accept that you matter not a whit, to allow yourself to be ground into dust. For a true servant, such is a matter of pride, his essence summed up in the words, “Yes sir,” as any further discourse with his master is impertinent. There is no such thing as an exchange of opinions between a servant and his master; there is no right or wrong but only what the master wants, what he orders or even what he is hoping or thinking about. That is how things are, without exception. In the palaces, ladies putting on low-cut nightgowns should not hesitate at all to summon a male servant to their rooms.
As far as ladies are concerned, a servant is not a man. He is a servant, much too lowly to become excited or tempted. The true servant is like a silent letter. It is present in the word but has no value. A servant must not draw attention to himself. He may not, for example, wear a fine watch or a gold chain. He may wear nothing that singles him out. His master must never be aware of him unless he needs him. The enormous distance between the master and his servant reflects a universal truth as undeniable as the sunrise or the orbit of the moon. It will never change. Very occasionally, the master, when in a good mood, cheered by some news or after a glass too many, might partake in some chitchat with a servant. At that moment, the servant must do no more than concur with his opinions, extricating himself from any further intimacy. He should bow, light his master’s cigar, change the ashtray, clear the table. That is, he must carry out some act that signals his awareness that each condescension from his lord is a fleeting act of grace.
Alku taught the servants when to say “Your Excellency” or “Your Honor” and the difference between a prince and a royal relative or a pasha and a bey. He taught them to speak to their master with a low and submissive voice and a small ingratiating smile, to bow and to avoid the unthinkable gaffe of walking alongside his master. He should walk two or three steps behind, never more or less. except in one particular circumstance— when the master asks the servant to direct him somewhere. Then, a servant may take a step forward to advise, but as soon as the master grasps the directions, the servant must step back again, keeping his usual distance.
Members of the Automobile Club could always request a servant who was guilty of some wrongdoing to be punished in the manner brought over from European clubs. The member was entitled at any moment to request the complaint book to register a servant grievance. These complaints were brought immediately to Alku, who would unleash a torrent of anger against the guilty servant. Ordinarily, it was enough for a club member, unhappy with a servant, simply to ask him to bring the complaint book, at which the servant would make a profuse apology begging the member to withdraw his complaint. Most members would show mercy, but there were some who were unforgiving and would insist that the servant be punished.
Fourth: Royal protocol
Dealing with royalty was also part of the servants’ syllabus, and only when a servant showed proficiency in it could he graduate and be given work. This particular mode of behavior was Turkish in character and carried out only in the presence of a member of the royal family. A servant must leave the royal presence bowing continuously as he backs out of the room, the crucial point being that he never turn his back on a royal highness. This piece of etiquette required alertness and concentration and could only be attempted after much practice, as the servant might have to walk backward at any moment and without care might trip on something, bump into someone standing behind him or knock something over. What an unseemly sight that would be!
Alku told his students time and again that proficiency in leaving the royal presence demanded the eye of a hawk, the gait of a gazelle and the cunning of a fox. Anyone undertaking it must have the details of the room engraved in his mind, so he might picture the exact path backward to avoid this chair and walk around that table, steering a path through the empty spaces, away from clusters of guests, until he safely reached the door. Properly performed, this particular act was considered one of Alku’s crowning glories. From his youth, he had been able to navigate the largest and most crowded salons backward in a most brilliant and unrivaled manner, as skillfully as if he had eyes in the back of his head.
When Alku was satisfied
