Joining in the dance (the groom-to-be is at center in white). |
Give me a story about selfishness and bigotry and I’ll give
you two or three about beauty and the goodness of human beings. The first one will be in tomorrow’s
paper, the others will not.
Two weeks ago, while wandering Old Cairo, one of our
students, Fardosa, found that her wallet was missing. Stolen? Dropped? She was philosophical about it and took it in stride. Now,
back in Cairo, our friend Nada, returned to the shop where we had ordered
juices that day, and asked the owner about the wallet. He had it, had kept it, and it still
had her driver’s license, credit card, and $75 in cash in it. To all the cynics in the house, worried
about crime and bemoaning the greediness of the world, put that in your hookah
and smoke it.
We met Nada and several of our new friends in Old Cairo, and
she led us to the Wikala al-Ghouri (a
16th Century commercial center with lovely inner courtyard) near Al
Ahzar where the El Nour Wal Amal (Light
and Hope) Orchestra was performing.
They are a group of around 25 women, all blind, all dressed identically
with head scarves and long skirts, who played wonderful music for us. It was a mix of classical Egyptian
pieces, Viennese waltzes, Bizet, and my favorit, Nino Rota’s Passerella from Fellini’s 8 ½. The sight of these lovely women, gently
smiling as we applauded their performance, was enough to restore whatever sense
of hope I might have lost in following the election results or machinations of
entrenched power here.
Omar Samr (in yellow) talking about his vision for eco-tourism. His wife Marwa is on the left. |
After the concert, we wandered through the narrow curving
streets with vendors who greeted us warmly. A man with one leg, passed us on crutches as he cheerfully
chided a young boy that was tagging along with him. He seemed the happiest person on the street. We ended up at a coffee shop and sheisha place in Old Cairo,
tucked away in a courtyard constructed sometime during the rule of the
Mamluks. There couples and groups
relaxed in the open air, or on an open balcony with shai (tea), mango juice, or
one of the hookahs in which are smoked a variety of flavored tobaccos (apple
seems to be a favorite). As we sat
talking about the upcoming exams, the elections and constituent assembly, and
the concert, an engagement party gathered in the room next door. The lovely couple and their families
had gathered and were soon dancing, clapping, and inviting us to join
them. About half the people in the
place filed into the cramped room where they were celebrated, and joined them
on the dance floor. I made the
mistake of venturing in to take some pictures of the students, and was dragged
onto the floor as well, where I was surrounded by some of the happiest and
sweatiest men with whom I’ve ever had the pleasure of “cutting the rug.” After five minutes, in which I obliged
the crowd with my infamous “camel dance” I had been baptized in the sweat of
the groom’s party and once embraced so enthusiastically I began to fear
somewhat for my life.
The camel in action. |
We are one big family here, with a fierce embrace of life,
and nothing between us but the veneer of differences imposed by those who fear
what they do not understand. Strip
that away and we all just part of a wild dance, in a room with strangers with
whom we share nothing more than a common humanity.
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