The End of an Amazing Year

 

    I can hardly believe that in twelve hours we will leave Cairo for the summer, having made it through our first year here in Egypt. What is amazing to me, is that no matter how hard and lonely and discombobulating it can be to move to a new country, I always look back on even the worst times (for me day eight when I could not get out of bed) and see this growth in myself and our family, that I could never have anticipated. Humans adapt amazingly.

    As most of you know, Daniel moved here a year before the children and I finally followed him. There were many reasons we made that decision, wanting to make sure he liked his job, a reticence to give up coveted school places in London, Harriet’s hesitation to join us, but I have to say, in all honesty, the overall reason we stayed behind was because we were too scared to move here. 

    Cairo could not be more different than London. We were leaving one of the richest cities in the world for one of the poorest. And though we were in many ways too financially challenged to stay in London, we also felt too pampered to move to Cairo.

    London, with its manicured parks, preserved historic buildings, and sophisticated shops and restaurants is the opposite of Cairo, a city that struggles with pollution, unemployment, crumbling housing and ever-present poverty. On our visits last year, that disparity was so overwhelming we were not sure we could cope. But when it became obvious that our choice was to join Daniel or continue commuting and rarely see him, we all finally rose to the occasion—none more than the children, whom I could not be more proud of for the way they have handled themselves.

Harriet even decided to spend her last year of high school with us instead of staying behind in England. And though there was no “graduation” at her school in Cairo, we threw a black shawl around her shoulders, a black beret on her head, and put a rolled up piece of paper in her hand. We were making it up because it didn't exist, as we always have-- the same way we religiously cook a turkey on a late autumn Thursday no matter how insignificant the day is to our neighbors, or barbecue on the back terrace because its Labor Day, or Memorial Day or the 4th of July.  

As I took Harriet's picture on "graduation day," she looked as radiant as the Valedictorian of a huge high school. It was just the five of us, in our living room, but no one could have understood or appreciated her effort, growing up as she did in four different countries, any more than her immediate family.

    The experience of living here has changed all of us immeasurably; words truly cannot describe it, though I hate to write such a cliché. Our outlook on the world, and the Middle East—its people, customs, and religion—are now totally different to what they were when we arrived. The Call to Prayer, that once put a chill down our spine, is now a daily reminder of the deep spirituality of the Egyptian people. 

    For the children, particularly, being Jewish at a nearly all Arab school has not been easy, but they have more than risen to the occasion, like little diplomats, patiently trying to explain their religious upbringing to children who have never met anyone who was Jewish before, in a country feeling hostile toward a neighbor they have been at peace with for thirty years. 

    Though I now look at Cairo in a whole new light—no longer as a place where I must live, but rather where I am happy to live—we can’t wait to have a break this summer in Europe and America, which for the children and me will be an eight-week vacation, but for Daniel just two. But even though our mouths are watering for pork and our bodies are ready for a break from dust and heat (yesterday it was 112 degrees here) and the girls and I are ready to bare our shoulders and knees without glaring eyes, I also know we will be missing the view of the Nile from our flat, our new friends, favorite shop keepers, and our dog (sadly, he can’t join us just for the summer), and that we will be ready to return in the fall to new adventures.

    They say, “Whoever drinks from the Nile, will always return.” It is a lure I now truly understand.

Comments

[Patrick Chalmers]

Drink from the Nile - are you kidding?

[Leigh]

It was so great spending the last 4 months with you all. You definitley made Cairo feel more at home to me. Thanks for being my surrogate mom!

P.S. Still hope you and Harriet are coming in August. You haven't lived until you've had a jumbo pulled pork barbecue sandwich topped with slaw and a side of collard greens and mac and cheese from Pierce's Pitt BBQ in Williamsburg, VA! And my mom will make a pie for you all.