Muntaha al-Rayyeh
I knew Fawaz al-Shardah (now they call him the Basha) from the Malco Stock Company in the Shmeisani area of Amman, behind the white-collar union complex.
How I wish I had never met him.
That was thirty years ago.
He was the biggest shareholder in the company and he used to visit once every two or three months.
I worked as a typist for the company, at a very low salary, because I never continued my studies after graduating from junior college.
One day, with a frown, my boss dropped off a large batch of paperwork he wanted me to process before leaving for the day.
We used to call that boss the “Porcupine” because he pricked whoever came close to him. Plus he was short and thin and his hair – black in those days – stood straight up on his head.
I placed the papers in
