Stu's visit to Egypt.
09/15/01
I expected more Egyptians to speak English. I am struggling
with the Arabic
language. Going to the store for bread is a hassle.
A taxi ride rarely
ends at my desired destination. Only once did I receive the
meal that I
actually ordered. Sometimes I feel isolated and helpless.
But this week I
found a common language.
Mohamed El Engardy, a fourteen year old student of mine,
approached me in the
hall and shook my hand. "I am very sorry for the
terrible thing that has
happened."
Samir, a taxi driver with an English vocabulary of perhaps twenty
words,
said, "It is a bad thing. Very, very sorry."
Omar, a dive instructor with contacts in the States, extended his
hand and
asked if there was anything he could do to help me get in touch
with friends
and family. He said, "There are no words. I am
sorry."
Nadia, an extremely shy girl in my friend's first grade
class, hugged my pant
leg and said, "It's okay Mr. Tummy."
Mostafa, an owner of a nearby iron craft shop, would not let me
pay for a
candle holder no matter how much I objected. "Please,
you take this. I can
not take your money. It is so horrible. Please, you
take."
Gamal, our minimally active boab, placed two boxes of water on our
doorstep
without us asking.
Ahmed, our gardener, gave Peggy and Gerry, an American teaching
couple who
live in the flat below us, a dozen roses with his sympathies.
It seems everywhere I go, Egyptians are very sad. And very
compassionate. I
feel welcomed and safe here. I miss everyone at home and
wish that I could
be there to shake a hand, give a hug, or even just watch CNN
together. Know
that I think of you often, handshakes and hugs are plentiful here,
and I am
well informed.