ABSTRACT
T H E train comes slowly to rest beside the long, lowplatform above which hangs the name "Mellawi",Doors bang open. There is a babble of excited Arabic as alighting passengers pour on to the packed platform. Coffee-coloured faces shine beneath white headcloths; bare brown feet stir the dust. You climb down, clutching your bag and looking anxiously among the crowd of chattering figures for someone who looks as though he might be the Chief Inspector of Antiquities for Middle Egypt. Could that be him at the back of the crowd, also looking anxiously around; that small, dark man in European dress and a red tarbusch? It is. He's seen you, and, smiling, he comes forward, accompanied by a tall, fierce gentleman in a blue gallabiyeh and a turban with a rifle slung from his shoulder. You introduce yourselves. He is indeed the Chief Inspector. His armed attendant? That's Ahmed, one of the ghoffirs (guards) responsible for protecting the antiquities under their master's charge. Ahmed takes your bag and leads the way out of the station.
