The Last Time I Was In Cairo

The Last Time I Was In Cairo



The Nile River is not only the life line of Egypt. It flows inside each and every Egyptian. ‎Being away from my country, Egypt, I pine for it. The Nile that runs through my veins ‎forces flashes of my happy childhood upon me. I think about my family, the long walks ‎along the Nile shore in Cairo watching the sparkle of boats’ lights in the night, and most ‎of all the smile of the kind people of Egypt. Strangely enough, and unlike most foreigners, ‎I never dwell upon the pyramids, or the Pharaohs. Egypt for tourist is not the same Egypt ‎I grow up in. ‎

A year ago, a mix of my mother’s naggings for me to come visit and the longing that ‎dwelled inside of me lead me to book a plane ticket. Naturally, I was thrilled throughout ‎my drive to the airport, I was okay going through the usual ‘random’ check Arabs get in ‎airports, and I was fine receiving strange glares from the elderly woman sitting next to ‎me in the plane. It was all worth it; I was finally going back to Cairo. ‎

When I arrived at Cairo, I started searching for a taxi to drive me home. I walked by next ‎to each black and white cap asking in Egyptian-Arabic dialect for a ride. You would have ‎thought they would help a fellow Egyptian… ‎

‎“Sorry, not working,” The eleventh taxi driver puffed smoke into my face. ‎

I sighed remembering one basic rule in Egypt; Foreigners are treated much better because ‎they are expected to pay much more. I coughed as I approached the next taxi, and then I ‎blurted out a half a dozen complicated words in English.‎

‎“American?” The driver asked me smiling. ‎

‎“Yes!” I replied inwardly asking God to forgive me for lying and denouncing my ‎nationality, and yet thanking him for my colored eyes.‎

He smiled, got out, and carried my bags for me. ‎



The next day, I decided to be adventurous and go to the bazaars in Khan El Khalili ‎situated in the old Islamic district of Cairo. After being stuck in traffic for about an hour, ‎I reached one of Cairo’s main attractions. I used to pass by it everyday on my way to ‎college, but the last time it tasted different after the long wait. ‎

I walked in narrow paths surrounded with shops on my left and right. Hand-made brass ‎artifacts shined under the hue of spot light in night. Old vendors warmly smiled at me ‎advertising their goods. A man held up a Tabla, an Egyptian drum, and tabbed his hand ‎against the hand of the instrument playing a tone accustomed to our weddings. Then he ‎joked with me about how a pretty girl like me should be already married. I smiled ‎knowingly; he was trying to flatter me into buying the Tabla. I did, but not before ‎bargaining for a full fifteen minutes; He started with a ridiculously high price, and I ‎insisted on absurdly low price. We both knew that our prices were unrealistic, but ‎bargaining runs in the blood of Egyptians after all. ‎

Later on, after buying souvenirs for my friends abroad, I sat with my buddies in a ‎traditional coffee shop. I crossed one leg over the other taking in the interaction of ‎tourists and vendors that was happening infront of me. I heaved a sigh full of the aroma ‎of shisha smoke (Egyptian water pipe), and beamed. I really did miss Egypt. ‎



Sure, I didn’t go to the pyramids or any tourist destination for the rest of my visit. In fact, ‎I spent the rest of the week looking after business, complaining about how long-winded ‎and tedious looking after business was in Egypt, and whining about how I hated having ‎my family stick their noeses in my business like Egyptian families do. ‎

Now I am back in the other side of the world, and I don’t have everyone's uninvited ‎opinions imposing on my private matters anymore. Nonetheless, that freakin Nile that ‎runs inside of me keeps badgering me. It keeps compelling me to long for Egypt, and for ‎my home in Cairo. I want to bargain, and have a street vendor I don’t even know bestow ‎his unwanted opinion about my private life. I crave the aroma of shisha, and complaining ‎about how people keep littering in the Nile. ‎



The last time I was in Cairo, I became aware of the love/hate relationship I have with my ‎country. Till the next time… ‎