The islands are a vague mass under the stars. The lights of the Sharm El Sheikh's thousand and one resorts shine in the distance. Hanna smiles and shakes her hips and belly with the music. Musa, the cook, looks at her figure with a smile while resting on his wooden stick. Then he starts dancing frantically. He jumps up and down on his bare feet, which make circles on the white floor of the Athenea II. He suddenly realizes he still has the sharp potato knife open in his pocket. However, he keeps on dancing.
Nur, the captain is sitting by the loudspeakers, clapping and laughing. He looks at Hanna. She is a considerably big woman. Her hair is long and black. Her face is very white and her lips thick and pink. Currently, three men are deeply in love with her. Two of them are right now on the boat. One of them told her so last week, but nothing has happened yet.
Hanna takes belly dancing very seriously. She goes to classes in Tel Aviv every Tuesday night, righ after her Advanced Socio-Political Geography lessons, a subject she frankly hates but needs to pass in order to get her diploma before moving to London for her Masters. There will be a lot of dancing in London, she knows.
Isaac and Ismael lie on the sides of the deck. They are smoking Gitanes and drinking Israeli beer. Axel, the dive instructor has told them not to drink more than two beers per night. Alcohol brings dehydratation, and this can lead you to get `the bends', decompression sickness. `The bends' is bloody painful, Axel had said.
`Ismael, why are we not on holidays all year round?', mumbles Isaac while rocking the hammock with his feet while sipping his beer. `Follow my example', responds Ismael, `I am on holidays all year round. It's simply a matter of attitude.You just need to tell your self `every day is a holiday' each morning while having coffee. Try it, it works'.
`Yes, yes, you tell me the same next Monday when we are back in our beloved war zone', says Isaac.
`Man, don't give me that crap about what you call the war zone. Look at Hanna and the cook. A muslim and a jew dancing together! Isn't it great,' says Ismael. `Besides, I've told you many times, I'm sure peace is around the corner'.
Three days ago, Isaac, Hanna, Ismael and five other friends came to Sharm El Sheikh from Eilat in Israel in a van escorted by private security guards with automatic assault weapons under their dusty suits.
`Peace is another form of war', interrupts Hal with a low raspy voice. Hal is a British tourist who joined the Athenea II diving safari by chance. `Even when bullets are not flying, men think they can get something good out of History'. Hal inhales deeply on his pipe. Then he let a cloud of smoke slowly cross the deck of the boat towards Hanna and the cook, who keep on dancing, now closer than before.
`Hal, you sound like you got some serious nitrogen narcosis on the last dive', says Ismael, `is that really tobacco you are smoking or something else?' Hal looks back at him smiling. He has read many books about Egypt and the Middle East, but he knows he will never quite understand the region. On this last trip, while flying over the Sinai desert, he has finally decided to give up understanding and simply enjoy the beauty of the place.
On the back of the boat, some of the divers are trying to catch the squids that come to feed in the lights of Athenea II. The squids look like long red balloons under the light. They approach the lights, but do not bite the hook. Isaac realizes Ismael is once again staring at Hanna's behind. The cook stops dancing and takes the knife out of his pocket.
