An intimate look at the villager who became a ruler
TIME Correspondent Robert Ajemian recently spent a day with Anwar Sadat. His portrait of the Egyptian President:
Anwar Sadat had just stepped out of the small elevator at the Barrages, the favorite of his ten presidential homes, to begin his working day. It was shortly after 11 o'clock and there was a strong fragrance of cologne on his shiny bronze face. He wore zippered black boots and a tailored suit, which gave him the look of a Mediterranean dandy, but his deep rugged voice spoke with authority. As usual, Sadat had slept late. He insists on at least eight hours of sleep, as well as a daily afternoon nap, which his wife Jihan thinks is too much. Sadat has a clock radio that he always sets himself; he falls asleep and wakes up to the all-music station in Cairo. He keeps a loaded pistol on the same table.
As he often is, the President was at the Barrages—which is north of Cairo, on the Nile—without his family. Although he seems hearty and outgoing in public, Sadat is a withdrawn, introverted man. He has few friends. His closest, wealthy Egyptian Contractor Osman Ahmed Osman, says he will sometimes be alone with Sadat for as long as two hours without speaking a single word. Says Sadat with satisfaction: "No one ever knows what I am thinking, not even my own family. I go alone." He says that the long months he spent in prison under British rule turned him into a meditative man; his family tells that even as a boy he used to climb onto the straw roof of their village home and stare for hours at the stars.
Sadat's breakfast, as usual, was a spoonful of honey. He watches his health carefully, and is something of a hypochondriac who often complains of feeling ill. Sadat perspires a lot, and because he is susceptible to colds, he forbids air conditioning wherever he stays. The perspiration embarrasses him slightly because the dampness on his brow and chin makes him look more tense than he really is. An alert aide is always close by to pass him a fresh white handkerchief to dab his face. Perhaps because he has had a minor heart attack, Sadat does not work too hard. He still recalls that his predecessor, Gamal Abdel Nasser, was signing letters until 3 o'clock in the morning the day he died of a heart attack. "Sadat doesn't have the stamina to be a dictator like Nasser," says an aide who has worked closely with both men.
After breakfast, Sadat went through two hours of interviews and meetings, including one with an emotional group of 150 Palestinian Arabs who had traveled from Gaza. He made a ringing speech, saying that Egypt would never abandon them and the grateful Arabs swarmed around to embrace and kiss him. Afterwards Sadat left for his daily walk. In his blue and white sneakers, he strode along the Nile for one hour, a valuable time when he likes to think. Then he took his regular rubdown from a masseur who is also one of his bodyguards. Lunch was, as always, a bowl of soup. For nourishment during the day Sadat drinks liquids constantly: fruit juice, minted tea and a lightly carbonated European cola. A devout Muslim, he never touches liquor or wine.