Cairo: Less and Less Women, More and More Men

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.