My trip to Egypt was due to end last night, but that didn’t happen. I had a first and very serious asthma attack that left me unable to travel. I will be traveling tomorrow evening with my sister back to South Africa.
You know when something was supposed to, was planned, naturally had come to an end and then it continues and it leaves you feeling uneasy? I was like that last night. And for all 10 days of being in Egypt, I did not feel uneasy. I felt at complete peace, in my zone, and very, very happy. I did some analysis and I concluded that I felt uneasy and vulnerable from having that health scare, leaving me gasping for breath like a true asthmatic. I’ll now carry my inhaler and pump everywhere I go.
Aside from that, it has been a thoroughly enjoyable and memorable 10 days. I’ve gone through about 6 rolls of film, 3 of them yet to be developed. Those developed have really pleased me; I’m making progress in photography. We did a 2-day, 1-night trip into the western desert and it was such a great experience. It’s a breathtaking place, both at night and during the day. In the evening, we ate and laughed and joked and then I launched into a singing frenzy, butchering and mangling and rendering my own versions of both classic and contemporary Egyptian musical repertoire. I realized how much I enjoy singing and improvising, laughing and joking. I smoked a little bit of hashish and it had no effect on me. I smoked some as well in Cairo and also, it had no effect. I was always on a natural high. I’m glad as well, given my past experience with weed/hashish. I won’t really be seeking out again, as I thought that I needed to or wanted to back in Johannesburg.
I took a lot of photos out in the desert and back in the city, both of the family and being out and about.
I finally saw Fatigue again after 8 years and spent time with him. He restrung and retuned my oud. We talked for hours, I told him about my life, we talked about Egyptology, theology, music, culture, family, our past, our secrets, our problems. We picked up from where we left off. I miss him so, so much. It wasn’t enough time but when he left, I didn’t feel a sense of longing. I felt a sense of satisfaction and happiness. The moment hadn’t been lost in frantic talking or in running around getting things done. I met his friends and spent time with him along with my cousin Joe (with whom we went out to the desert) and my sister Sarah. I talked to Fatigue about my plans to study literature, to pursue Carter’s, to pursue film and photography. He supported everything, as I knew he would. The first day I saw him, I didn’t believe that he was sitting next to me, laughing heartily, talking into my ear, his chiseled face lighting up when he laughs. When I hugged him to greet him, it felt like in the dreams, the last time I saw him. I watched him play oud and he mesmerized me. He’s truly both my brother and my cousin. A cherished friend, someone from whom I learn and am inspired. When I hugged him goodbye, I wasn’t sad or wanting to cling or not let the hug end; I revelled and told him that I will see him soon – and in my mind, I completed the sentence by saying in the flesh or in dream -, that this was a great trip and to thank him for everything. I walked away missing him, but happy. Happy for myself and happy for him and his wife Florence.
I ate a great amount of food. I ate it with my immediate family, with my extended family on Christmas Day. I saw myself transform into how I would be if I would be living here: insisting on people to eating and enjoying eating. I’ve never enjoyed eating as I’ve done here. My friends took me out to eat liver at a renowned street restaurant called El Brens (The Prince) in an area called Imbaba. It was sheer experiential, sensory, and culinary pleasure. I ate feseekh (fish prepared in a signature Egyptian way) with green onions and regular onions and herrings. I met new people and made new friends. That was an experience in itself too.
I hung out with my friends, I spoke Arabic, and I felt myself be as I was in London with the guys. People wouldn’t believe I was Egyptian given my fairly strong accent in Arabic. That makes me happy.
I’ve had to deal with a few everyday situations: a douchebag while parking my car, a “car guard” after leaving a restaurant, and a heater technician. I’ve answered the phone a few times and spoken with confidence. I’ve gone into shops and bought things, talked with confidence, and even joked. I’ve even learnt how to speak that filler language that is a major feature of communication in Egypt. Filler language = smalltalk.
I’ve walked down the street with my headphones on, listening to tarab, and taking in the cacophony of sounds and thick air. It’s liberating after being confined to very little walking in South Africa. You really feel that you’re engaging with the city, the country, your immediate surroundings.
I went to a youth meeting at a church last Friday (before feasting on liver at El Brens). The worship/praise section was so moving and powerful, enjoying that I could sing along, read the lyrics, and really engage. The talk was powerful and has left a mark on me, one so deep and penetrating that I will act on it. It was my first youth meeting in 3 or 4 years. I was glad to be in the crowd rather than at the front where all the servants. I had a few flashbacks to St. Mark’s, but none brought me down. I just realized that in terms of my faith, I’m at the beginning of the path again. The priest was humorous, well-spoken, intellectual, and spoke with un-fanatic conviction. He himself drinks from the Fountain of Life; you could tell by the glow on his face. It’s infectious, so much so that you could have heard Philip whisper the words of the gospel in your ears: “Come and see.”
I spent time with family: my mom’s aunt, her brother, my cousins, my paternal uncles.
Before the massive spread on Christmas Day at our place, I was talking to my mom’s cousin’s husband whom was visiting from Saudi Arabia, where he works. We had a long discussion about work and next steps in our careers. The conversation took us to discuss my thoughts and feelings about living in Egypt. He was encouraging me to consider the Gulf for work, but I told him that I wasn’t too motivated having lived in Saudi and having heard that Dubai was like London in many ways. He has suggested Bahrain and Qatar, both of which I will look into. But I told him that if I was to move to the Middle East, I would come to Egypt as first choice. I told him that I have been thinking about relocating permanently to Egypt for 5-6 years. He looked at me and chuckled: “5 years?? It shouldn’t take you that long to take a decision like that…”
He was right. And the penny dropped. That moment spurred a whole bunch of thoughts, which led me to decide: I want to move here and live here. When I told my friend Sham, he smiled then pooped on me for not realizing this sooner after long discussions where he would tell me to do so soon!!!! The dork. He’s like that.
So, in Egypt, here, I lay my roots. The plan is within the next year or so to move here and make it home. It will be my base, should I travel out. When people ask, I shall say that Egypt is home. Even from now, I will say that Egypt is home and will always be home hereon.
In terms of the practicalities, we’ll see depending on how Carter’s, my financial situation, and finding suitable employment here. Also, it involves a lot of groundwork: getting my passport renewed, my ID card issued, and starting a papertrail with the government.
Since making the decision, walking around in Egypt has had a different feel. I look into my future and finally, maybe the first time ever in my life, a part of my future is clear. A part of me inside makes sense. My life, finally, makes a little bit more sense. For once, I’ve made a decision about my future and it makes sense, I made the decision knowing all the risks and benefits, and knowing that I finally am charting my course and following it.
I’m recovering from last night’s attack but if you could take a trip down my mind and my heart, you would see and hear a feast and party of extreme joy and celebration.
I have a home. 