Dialogues of Naguib Mahfouz: Life after the Nobel By Mohamed Salmawy A few months after he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature I went to see Naguib Mahfouz at his office in Al-Ahram. Many visitors were still coming to congratulate him and reporters from across the world wanted to interview him. The pressure on his time was immense and he was beginning to resent it. "I am practically in the employ of Mr. Nobel. I have to meet everyone he sends my way," he said. The cameras and journalists, the visitors from abroad, it was all new to Mahfouz, a private person who maintained a strict regimen of working. Mahfouz sets aside a certain time for writing, another for socialising and another still for family and rest. In the months that followed his being awarded the Nobel prize his life changed beyond recognition. Due to his kind disposition Mahfouz was unwilling to turn away any of his visitors, especially those that had come from abroad. So I advised him to go to Alexandria, where he keeps a summer house. "Alexandria is lovely in winter and you'll have a chance to relax," I said. Mahfouz agreed and proceeded to tell his secretary that he would go away for a few days. I asked the secretary not to disclose his whereabouts to anyone. The secretary was relieved for she too needed a vacation. The pressure of interviews and meetings was getting to her. Before winning the Nobel Mahfouz didn't even have a secretary. He answered his phone and mail himself and spent a few hours in the Al-Ahram building talking to fellow writers, to people such as Tawfiq El-Hakim and Luis Awad who worked on the same floor. After the Nobel prize the literary critic Fathi El-Ashri volunteered to organise interviews for the now internationally-renowned novelist. A multi-lingual colleague volunteered to be his secretary. "Shall I order a car for you from Al-Ahram?" The secretary wanted to know how Mahfouz intended to go to Alexandria. He was shocked. "Why do I need a private car? I will travel as always, by train or public bus." The secretary pointed out that things have changed. "No. Nothing has changed," insisted Mahfouz. That was when I felt I had to interfere. "She doesn't mean that you have to change your lifestyle but the Nobel prize was a major national event and now many people will want to shake your hand in the street and chat. Using public transportation may not be such a good idea," I said. "My countrymen have the right to shake my hand and talk to me if they so wish. Don't forget that their support and their reading of my works is what brought me the Nobel prize. Without them no one outside this country would have heard of me. The Nobel prize would be a terrible thing if it were to separate me from the people among whom I lived all my life." Mahfouz then went to Alexandria by train.
