Word: caf
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Nasser has scarcely bothered to hide it. Through Cairo's cafés, and with easy access to government offices, swarm the Middle East's biggest concentration of exiled terrorists and (depending on the point of view) troublemakers or patriots. In 1946 North African exiles set up the Committee for North African Liberation. The Egyptian government provided offices and funds for their support, had their representatives sit in on Arab League councils as advisers. Funds were raised, commandos recruited, trained and shipped off to the battlefronts...
Late in the morning the stocky man stirs in the old-fashioned featherbed, and demands his café au lait. He dumps in three lumps of sugar, shrugs into an old bathrobe, then sprawls on the bed again as he scans the morning papers. Soon he is dictating orders, directives and notes to his black-haired wife, her typewriter propped on a suitcase beside the bed. Before he is dressed, cars come honking down a narrow street usually disturbed only by the clump of a cart or a delivery boy's whistle, and men in leather coats and caps...
...inspection of his books) next day. Twenty-six other shopkeepers and artisans of Saint-Céré got the same notice. Blacksmith Fregeac was behind in his taxes, of course, and he could not pay. Hurriedly, he summoned his fellow councilors to an emergency meeting in a café. Early next morning, two inspectors faced a hostile crowd of some 300 shopkeepers in slippers and aprons. "Get out of here," yelled the mob. The inspectors left. Pierre Poujade had found his cause. Poujade wrote later: "It was David against Goliath. It was justice against the inquisition. It was liberty...
...Nondescript. If Pierre Poujade belongs in the category of demagogues or dictators, he is a strange specimen. He exudes none of the magniloquence of a Mussolini, the cold power of a Stalin, the megalomania of a Hitler. Instead, there is an engaging air of café table simplicity about him. Even his features are nondescript and the despair of caricaturists. "Look me in the eyes, and you will see yourself," he cries to his listeners...
...into a national force. He took off in his car, scoured the depressed countryside with his new doctrine of discontent. He ignored his business and forgot to sell his books. He transformed Saint-Céré's refusal to pay taxes into a patriotic duty. In cafés and village squares, Poujade cried: "We must refuse to pay tribute to a corrupt system which breaks our backs while sparing the giant profiteers who are pillaging France. Only by united resistance can we force them to reform the rotten regime which now threatens France with ruin...