Ibrahim doesn’t feel completely comfortable with someone until his parakeet is walking on their head. Apparently that’s how the family bonds because they all, including their papa, seem to be pretty used to letting the parakeet perch there. And yes, staying in their home I, too, took a turn under the bird.
...to be continued.
This was the trip to Cairo that led me to not advertise my connections to the Middle East. It would be 8 years before someone discovered my Arabic past which consequently led me back into the Arab world. But that is a story for a different post.
What did I love about Cairo the second time?
My happiest memory was with a guy I hung out with our whole Arabic program. We often bolted from our group adding a touch of Indiana Jones. Riding camels into the sunset next to the pyramids wasn't exactly on our itinerary. And despite the travel weariness, the sicknesses, and the whatever-else’s, sitting high on the camels was regal, above the chaos of the city and in touch with the ancient.
Mosque Oasis
The traffic, mud brick, and raw meat hanging could make your first impression of Cairo wrong. I learned this the day my Arabic professor took us on a tour of mosques in the city. As we wound through markets, dusty streets, butcheries, he stopped in front of a gate, pushed it open to a mosque; an oasis of simplicity, cleanliness, and trees. My little girl heart was enchanted and I wanted to linger a few more minutes. No wonder Muslims like mosques.
Midnight Train from Luxor
If you are traveling from Luxor to Cairo you can take the midnight train. Our Arabic professor booked our passage in 2nd class. It all began as you would expect. The train slowed for 2 min allowing us to throw our bags on the train and jump on. A while into the ride, in the middle of a half conscious sleep a crowd of anxious villagers boarded the train with a man on their shoulders wailing. I dreaded the thought of why. As the mob passed, the bottom of his foot touched my arm. I spent the night imagining I would die in Egypt of some disease. After unloading from the train I asked if anyone knew what happened. His back was broken. I felt terrible. I had been worried about myself not having a moment of compasion for him.
Something happened.
I got really sick. We traveled for a month, washing clothes in the shower with shampoo, eating at street stands. My friends got sick, too. But all of that may have easily been forgotten.
My Arabic professor asked me and a couple of the guys to visit a man living in a Cairo slum. I dressed modestly and covered my hair. Traveling deeper into Cairo and with the sun setting I noticed less and less women and more and more men. We changed transportation several times finally crossing train tracks into an area without paved streets where mud caked the ground and lights hung from ropes in the street.
As we entered the neighborhood, men swarmed the two guys I was with parading them around like heroes. The men were so tightly packed they didn’t notice me on the outside of the mob. I started to panic but they couldn't hear me. Then a man selling vegetables began throwing them at me with full strength hitting me hard. Men called me names.
We did make it to the house of the man we were to visit. But when he saw me, he told the two guys never to bring a woman there at night and they were lucky nothing happened to me. He refused to visit with us, immediately bought out an entire taxi-van and took us directly back. I was grateful that he valued my safety.
I got on the plane headed home deciding not to advertise that I studied Arabic or had connections to the Middle East at all.
Bonding with Abraham and Moses.
Giza, now almost a suburb of Cairo, is home to the great pyramids. The pyramids and city press upon each other. You can drive from a thriving metropolis to an ancient wonder in minutes. The pyramid building era ended in about 2150 BC meaning you can look at structures Abraham (approx. 1813-1638 BC) and Moses would have seen passing through the same land. What thoughts would pass through your mind staring at the pyramids? Would those same thoughts have passed through Abraham’s? You would now have shared an experience with Moses.
City of Oranges written by Adam LeBor is one of my favorite reads on contemporary Israeli-Palestinian history. The book is written through the stories of prominent families, Arab and Jewish humanizing their struggle and conflict. I also appreciate that the stories are told around the city of Jaffa instead of Jerusalem which holds more political rancor.
The theme I gleaned from the book was that Jew and Arabs have gotten along for centuries with only minor scuffles. The story line picks up at a point when the dynamics of the area change with an influx of people who really don't understand each other.
One of my favorite parts was when a Jewish family returned to their old Cairene neighborhood to find that their long time Arab friends missed them. It touched me and gave me hope for the future relationship of two peoples I care about.
Sitting in a tire swing outside of our house in Utah, I watched my aunt come by one day not long before she left to go on a CASA program to study intensive Arabic for a year in Cairo. I would have been 10 or 11 at the time. We just moved to the United States from Okinawa. I was struggling with the culture shock having no real memory of the US except for a couple visits to family. She was one of my anchors mentoring me through a turbulent time while I was learning slang and how to get along with American kids. The stories I heard while she was in Cairo left an imprint on me. She came home, got married, now has two kids and still speaks both Arabic and Hebrew. Her particular stories didn’t stick with me as much as the idea that learning Arabic seemed like a good idea. Oh, and you gotta push if you wanna get on the metro.
That's when I started to get used to Cairo.
Damascus through my interactions with three people.
A travelor: my grandma, a photographer: John Wreford, and a CASA student: Zachary Queen.
Grandma: Growing up I saw the beautiful copper and emroidered linens of my grandparents’ home which I lived in for many years. Of course, no mention about copper is complete without a lively story of how my grandma got them in and out of Syria. Syria has this semi-mysterious quality because the country is forbidden to anyone with an Israeli stamp in their passport. And of course, my grandparents lived in Israel/Palestine. Grandma didn’t let that get in the way of hitting the markets in Damascus. My grandparents visit the sights where Paul went and Arabraham grew up and the ancient kingdoms that left their mark–Persia, Rome, Greece, and the Arabs. Damascus holds a Biblical/ancient quality for me.
John Wreford: An amazing photographer living in Damascus capturing the Middle East for high end journals and such. If you haven’t seen much of the Middle East or enjoy stunning images, check out his website.
Zachary Queen: My Arabic students and I got to know a former Brigham Young University student who is now studying in Damascus CASA program. I’ve learned from him about a different side of Damascus–the more day to day living. He plays off and on with a soccer team there. It’s interesting to hear bits and pieces from him about playing soccer late into the night and struggles for recognition becauase he is an American. He talks about working with Iraqi refugees, hanging out with friends on the weekends, etc. With all the layers of history and it’s central place in Syrian politics, it’s a place where people continue their stories.
