You all know how the story ends, however, the events of our last week in Egypt are memorable enough that they deserve to be documented.
We had so many more places to visit in Egypt and we were just beginning to spread our wings and explore some of them as Peter gained confidence in driving, and I felt more confident in communicating. In the nick of time during our last week, we went to some of the places on our wish list; the Hussein district, and Mohandessin. Here is how things happened.
Monday, Jan. 24th
As part of our Media Studies Unit, and as practice in writing a short essay for the upcoming exam, I asked the Grade 12 students to discuss a Globe and Mail article about the addictive effects of Facebook. The Egyptian teens (and adults) are CRAZY about Facebook, and I knew that this topic would spark some enthusiastic dialogue, and ideas for an essay. Our brainstorming led us into a list of the features and uses of Facebook. Iasked if Facebook was ever used as an event organizer in Egypt and mentioned that I had just declined an event that morning that was taking place in Canada. “Oh yes, Mrs. Meredith, we do use this invitation feature,” they responded.
Later on, I mentioned that Mr. Peter and I were going to travel to Alexandria the next day, The 25th of January, Policeman’s Day, to have a long-delayed fish dinner with a colleague. We were immediately warned not to go. “Mrs. Meredith, it is not a good idea to travel tomorrow – something will be happening.” There was continued debate about the “demonstration/event” – was it going to happen?, would many participate? Somewhere in the discussion it leaked out that whatever was going on was being planned on Facebook and all the kids were aware of this. Serendipity?
Tues. Jan 25th
As instructed, we stayed in our apartment this day. Peter kept up with the news of the protests. It was the first day to feel that the world, at least the Egyptian world, might be changing. I recall calling many people using Mona’s “Magic Jack” phone and revelling in hearing the voices of family and friends. I had a flicker of feeling far from home.
Wed. Jan 26th
The kids were full of news and talk about the day of protest. At home, parents were deciding whether they would participate and the kids were talking about whether they would be allowed to go.
After school, my colleague and friend, Gheda, offered to take us downtown to the touristy district of Hussein. Peter’s cold was making him miserable, so off I went on my own. While the Egyptians were wanting to make major changes, I wanted to try to find this kind of light
and this kind of tea set.
We started on our way. Gheda’s husband Eslam, is a military captain and engineer. She drove downtown, talking with him on the cell phone every ½ hour getting updates about the protests, and how these were affecting traffic. We picked him up in the Heliopolis District and drove through the presidential palace area to arrive at Hussein. Unlike Peter and I, Eslam could park anywhere, just by showing his badge and asking the police to look after his car. On this night, even Eslam had news- he had to park across the street because this square had been the site of three protests that day. The entrance to the subway was closed. The city was still humming and busy, but there was an air of tension.
The Hussein District caters to tourists with shop after shop of souvenirs. Who could resist these belly dancing outfits?
Eslam and Gheda took me to one of the most famous restaurants in Cairo. The specialty? Pigeon! The restaurant was one whole alley with a number of places to sit and eat. To the western eye, you would think that there were a ½ dozen different restaurants. Business was brisk, and included the mandatory stray cat that slunk under our table hoping for scraps.
This is what we ate – pigeon broth soup, “salads” (tahini sauce and a green salad), and pigeon stuffed with savory rice. As I finished, Gheda noticed the pigeon neck on my plate. You need to eat this, she said. This is the most loved delicacy! So, I ate it the Egyptian way- bones and all. It was, of course, like everything else Egyptian, delicious!
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| pigeon broth in a glass - delish! |
We went for a look around the market, a labyrinth of narrow alleys, with shops full of souvenirs, clothes, dishes, musical instruments, traditional metalwork (no perfect lamp –dang!).
A wonderful antique shop was well worth a look around, and once again contained reminders of Egypt’s colonial history.
Eslam and Gheda took me for a shisha (yes, I know the health risks, but it was so relaxing and fun) at the oldest café in Cairo.
This is not the “take your time and sip quietly” type of café. It is alive with people from all over the world, conversation in many languages, people (many of them young children) trying to sell all kinds of trinkets, English Qurans, and this:
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| no sale |
Gheda bargained for some prayer beads to give me as a gift to hang in our car.
We drove back to drop Eslam at his work (he was obliged to work all night every week or so). On the way he sang the lyrics to Tracey Chapman’s Fast Car, cranked up to full volume. This song will always remind me of this crazy fast car ride through Cairo’s core, blocks from Tahrir Square.
We stopped for a sugar cane drink. Here is how this works. You park 4 cars deep. A kid comes up and takes your order. You get the drinks (or food) delivered to your car. Once finished the empty glasses are put on the car roof, picked up, paid for, and off you go. Magical choreography. Sorry - no pictures of this.
Thurs. Jan 27th
Last day of school before our holidays. The kids were still full of talk about the protests and whether their parents would let them participate. The teachers were full of talk about their plans for the 2 week break. Mohab and Dalia were not at school, gearing up for their wedding the next day. Peter and I were counting down to our vacation with his daughter, Jo, followed by my daughter, Marlee. Five weeks of family was going to feel like heaven! We had lovingly planned detailed itineraries: Red Sea, Luxor and Aswan Nile cruise, Alexandria, soccer games, and many Cairo tours.
To start, we went to another new neighbourhood for the thrice postponed seafood dinner with Mrs. Sonia. The restaurant was in Mohandessin, a busy, upscale, community just below Zamalek on the island in the middle of the Nile. It was crowded and alive with gorgeous shops, cafés restaurants, boutiques, mosques, medans (rotary circles which they call squares ), the usual jammed traffic lanes. We absolutely loved it. The restaurant was comfy, tasty and busy with families celebrating the end of term and the beginning of the mid-term break. Even this upscale restaurant had delivery service with the matching delivery service scooters.
Afterwards, Mrs. Sonia and her niece escorted us around the neighbourhood to a café where we could get shisha. (I was getting a reputation!!) The owner knew the niece. We got great service, as usual, and settled in on the outside patio to relax. Then Sonia started to translate the news from the TV to us. She said the planned protests for the next day were a big deal and something totally new for her and for the people of Egypt. We talked about what this might mean. A little uneasy with all of this news, we decided to go straight home rather than meander and shop for the new necklace I wanted to find to buy to wear to Mohab and Dalia’s wedding. As we walked to our car, we remarked on the beauty of this stately neighbourhood, lit up with elegance and class.
Fri 28th A (Non) Wedding
Fri. Jan 28th we woke up to no internet and no phone service. The English Algezeera News and the Middle East English CNN channels were clear about the reason: the Day of Anger protest was indeed a big deal and the regime was fighting back. The people were being Faceblocked!!
We spent the day cleaning the apartment and preparing for our holiday visitors while we tried to stay calm and consider the questions: should Jo still arrive? Can we get hold of her to tell her to come or not to come? Should we still try to travel by car to our first destination on Monday, Al Gouna, a resort on the Red Sea, about a 5 hour drive from 6th of October City.
We cleaned, packed, organized, and shopped. The stores were full of people buying staples, bread, rice, pasta, water, and of course, the Smith family necessity- a jigsaw puzzle- appropriately one of another ancient wonder - Stonehenge. We dressed for the wedding, not sure if it was still on or cancelled. We stopped in to Mona’s and spoke at length with Mona and her husband, Samir. Luckily, Peter, was once again ahead of the situation. He had emailed Jo our cell phone numbers as well as Mona’s landline at her villa. Mona could not phone out internationally, but she could receive calls. If she called, we all decided that Jo should be told not to come. Perhaps this would blow over in a few days and we could stick with our Nile cruise the following week. We trotted off to the coiffeur’s to wait to see if the wedding was going on or not. Mohab’s brother arrived eventually to tell us it was cancelled. As a military officer, we recognized the significance of his advice when we told us that what was going on was a “big deal”, and to “go home right away and stay inside”. We were absolutely devastated for Mohab and Dalia. I remembered Mohab saying, something must be brewing because the whole engagement and wedding planning had gone flawlessly so far.
Mona’s servant knocked on our door to tell us that Jo had called and was not coming. Whew!! She would call again later, so Peter trotted over to Mona’s and had the first of what would be “lifeline” conversations with Jo.
Saturday 29th, The Evacuation
Things ramped up very quickly after that. On Saturday, we went shopping and went to the ATM again. There were tanks at major intersections. We did what Canadians have always done with something brewing- we put gas in the tank, got extra water, took out some cash, stocked up on tins of food, and watched the news. With no internet or phones, we were feeling increasingly isolated and vulnerable. We spent the night designing our Sociology and Economics courses for the next term. Regardless of how this turned out, we would be prepared.
Sunday 30th
By Sunday, we were not sure what to do. The phones were on again, but the Internet was still off. TV news showed increasing chaos, with vivid descriptions of policemen taken off duty, criminals being let out of jails, and rampant looting. Phone calls from friends reinforced how nervous Egyptians were. They were hunkering down. Mrs. Sonia in beautiful Mohandeseen, talked about the young community protectors on her street capturing three looters. A call from one student who had been allowed to go to the protests reinforced how proud and courageous Egyptians are. While we watched the TV news full of American, Australian, and European evacuation efforts, we tried and tried to reach the Canadian Embassy, but to no avail. The Cairo office was closed and the message machine in Ottawa was full.
Egyptians name places after major dates in their history. Here are a few that we ran across:
6th of October = the date that Egyptians crossed the Red Sea marking the beginning of the Yom Kippur War - October 6 to 25, 1973
15th of May Bridge = the beginning of the 1948 Arab–Israeli War
26th of July Corridor = Egyptian Revolution marking the final day and exile of
King Farouk I and eventually the end of colonial British control
So, when Mohab called to say that he and Dalia had gone ahead and married on Friday night anyway, we joked t
hat their first born should be called 28
th of January. He said if it was a boy, his friends said he should be named “Anger” in Arabic. As always, Mohab showed us how Egyptians react under strain -with grace, patience, and humour.
And we also reacted culturally. We did what Canadians do in these kinds of situations. We packed our bags systematically; put explanatory post it notes on items we were not taking, and stayed up to all hours to finish the jigsaw.
Monday 31st
By Monday, I was a puddle. I wanted to go home right away. I wanted to hear my kids’ voices and give them a hug. It was Matthew’s 25th birthday and I was so far away. TV pictures of the 25th anniversary of the explosion of the Challenger didn’t help me much.
Mohab and Dalia came over glowing, while I snuffled my way through their visit. We couldn’t just leave the safety of our apartment without a plan – this would be foolish. After all, we were relatively safe and sound. Mohab assured us that our RAMW compound was one of the safest places to be. His new apartment was more vulnerable and he had been out doing shifts to protect his street ever since they moved in after their wedding on Fri. night. We should stay inside completely, but we could be sure that we would be safe. Outside you could see our community protectors trudging past two by two carrying sticks. At night we wee wakened by gun shots and the sound of tanks moving nearby. The call to prayer at daybreak sounded even more evocative to us. Listen closely:
Jo called and reported that Canadians were being evacuated on 2 planes this very day. The Canadian government was encouraging all Canadians in Egypt to get on one of their evacuation flights. Why hadn’t we heard from the embassy? How could they be moving Canadians out of Egypt without notifying us? Within a few hours, and after a flurry of calls with Jo, we figured out that we should try to get on one of the two evacuation planes set to leave on Tuesday, the next day. It was first come first served- truly Canadian. All we had to do was reach the airport. The flurry of organizing that happened during this period marked how quickly things had devolved from Egyptian normalcy in such a short space of time. Mohab did not have enough gas in his car. His phones had almost run out and there were no stores open to buy more phone cards, and he was on his last few packs of cigarettes. We would driveto the airport in our “school” car.
To prepare for our big journey ahead, we once again did what Canadians do. Peter made and packed tuna fish sandwiches. I called and talked with friends and said some sad, heartfelt goodbyes.
One conversation went like this:
“Are you ok?” “Yes, of course, I am with my family and with my people.” “Are you safe?” “Yes, the young men of Egypt are protecting us.”
Tuesday 1st
We packed our little Hyundai Verna. Mohab drove. A driver from the school sat in the passenger seat. They would drive us to the airport, then wait for the school’s owner to return from Saudi Arabia and drive him home. Good easy plan. We drove to Mona’s, gave a hug and the apartment keys, and we were on our way.
Mohab had warned us that in the 2 days we had “barricaded” ourselves in our apartment, things had changed dramatically and he was so right. At every block in our compound, young men sat around small fires keeping warm, their sticks by their sides ready to scare off any intruders. We passed tanks at the end of our little street, there were frequent barricades, and community and military checkpoints constantly. Mohab patiently explained each time that he was taking foreigners to the airport. We nodded and smiled and looked our part from the back seat.
We were on the highway at last, and it looked like clear sailing. That was, until Mohab slowed down because the asphalt literally stopped on this main highway, and BANG! We were rear ended. Unbelievable! He had never had an accident in all his years of driving and we were proudly returning the car with only one small scratch after all our adventures. Mohab was even driving the speed limit! The BMW that hit us was pretty wrecked. Mohab flew into Egyptian road rage mode. Guess that comes with the genes. He was brilliant!
After that it all seemed pretty surreal. Peter reminded Mohab that one of the first things he had told Peter was that "Egyptians always find a way." And so they did. They got the car off the road. They pried open the trunk – somehow. A cab stopped and the driver helped. They pried out the suitcases, including the wrecked one.
We got into the cab. I couldn’t help but notice how typically Egyptian homey the driver had made it.
We started on our way. The school driver stayed with Verna, Mohab came with us. The driver decided to take a “short cut” to avoid the military checkpoints. We smiled and I tried not to look too nervous. When a Cairo cab driver says he will take a short cut, you know you are in for an adventure. We passed through territory unfamiliar even to Mohab. Mohab assured us this guy was a good Egyptian. He was. We passed through and didn’t pass through checkpoints. Our luggage was opened and closed. We started, turned around and wove our way through the bowels of Cairo – a city clearly under strain. All this time, we watched our watches furtively. The Canadian embassy had said first come… They also said that the airport might close due to the General Strike planned for this Tuesday – the day of the million person march.
By the time we reached the airport, we were later than we hoped, the taxi had a flat tire and we were concerned that we were leaving the driver far from home without much gas, Mohab was on the phone to the school owners giving them the bad news about the car accident, and Peter and I jumped out trying to match the building names with the embassy directions. There was no time for heartfelt goodbyes for our dearest friend Mohab who had risked so much to help us get home safely.
The airport was bedlam; wall to wall people in a space about 2 football fields large, all talking, all nervous, all on the verge of panic. We found the Australian embassy – huge flag and easily marked officials – but no sign of the Canadians. Were we even in the right building? No one spoke English. It took about one hour to cross the floor. Peter was systematic about our next steps. I got chatty. Some things never change. I asked a pasty-faced man if he spoke English and he DID! He even knew where the five Canadians were huddled. We had found our people! Barry, our new best friend from the embassy, came to rescue us waving one of those small paper Canadian flags that you give kids to wave on Canada Day. It looked glorious to us. We marched behind him single file outside into the warm Egyptian sun and saw the embassy in action.
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| standing in line never felt so good |
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| This woman wore matching shoes, scarf and purse even when evacuated- Egyptian style! |
A few more calls from Jo, my friend Dawna, my sister Julie, and our colleague Gaye, and a few hours later, we boarded the chartered Air Canada 747 bound for Frankfurt.
The whole time in Egypt we would pinch ourselves to remind us that we were in Cairo – CAIRO! Now we were pinching ourselves that we were going home – HOME!
With unfinished business to do, we will definitely be going back to Egypt. Our dear friends alone will lure us back and we miss them all so much already. I am pining for the students as well. Really, our time in Egypt was so magical.
When Mubarak was ousted I emailed one student and wrote:
"Yeah!!!!!! Yell for us! Mrs. M & Mr. P"
Here is what she wrote back:
"I DID! I yelled for a whole country! Oh thank God it's over. Got to go... Have a country to build :)"
We will watch as our smart, funny, wise and resourceful Egyptian friends make their world better. But we cannot wait to go back.
