Balcony life

It’s early March and every now and then a midday breeze drifts across the balcony. My first coffee of the day is disappearing quickly down my throat, sipped from one of the new glass mugs I bought yesterday from El Tawhid wa el Nour (the Egyptian equivalent of Target or K-Mart; not a fancy people place, but we love it).

You can hear a microcosm of life from Egyptian balconies, especially if they’re on the lower floors of the building. The voices of children playing. Radio music wafting past somewhat statically, with Abdel Halim and Fayza Ahmed interspersed with Wust El Balad and Mohamed Fouad, depending in which direction you turn your ears. The bikya man buying unwanted household items, the aysh man selling bread, the ghazl el banat man selling fairy floss, men and women selling vegetables on the corner.

Sitting here, it’s easy to imagine that things have changed for the better, that the people are happy, that the forces in power are bettering the country day by day, minute by minute, propelled by a deep love of their country and their people. And then reality returns and the picture is not what it should be two years after the revolution. The hope that was here even a year ago is almost gone, if there is any left at all, and the little that is left hangs by a thread. Many who were struggling for change just want to leave; to get on with their lives in a place where they count for something, where their daily struggles and daily contributions count for something. But who can leave, and who should have to?

The call to prayer cuts through the air, a constant reminder of the presence of something greater than yourself in this country that seems to have been abandoned by God. I keep trying to reassure myself that, as it says in the Qur’an, ‘Everything is written’ and there is some kind of beautiful plan in store for Egypt that will in due course come to fruition; that the fabric of this country will be woven into what it should be by the people, who deserve to have their vision for it materialized.

I wonder how those of my parents’ and grandparents’ generations feel. The ones who knew Egypt when she was free—or at least free by comparison to what she is now. When cosmopolitan was the norm and every day held a little romance, a little poetry. When she was Om el Donya personified. And I can’t imagine the sadness they must feel, knowing what once was and seeing what now is. Knowing what has been lost and wondering if it will ever be found.

Sitting on the balcony, it is not difficult to imagine. And if it can be imagined, it can happen, isn’t that what they say?

Halfway to being a man

I always thought the whole double digits thing was a bit overrated. But then today – and I’m still not sure how it happened – my little boy turned ten.

People try to warn you about it. When you have a newborn baby, everybody tilts their head knowingly and tells you to “savour this time” because “it’ll be gone in a flash”. Don’t blink, because “they grow up so quickly”. But when you’re waist deep in nappies and Play School you can’t possibly see how that could apply to you. And then your baby turns ten. And you start to believe it.

Last year, when he turned nine, I thought, Good grief, my little person is halfway to being an official grown-up! At least in Australia and Egypt. That was enough to give me pause, but easy enough to brush over. And now he’s ten. In one year, he’s gone from being half an official grown-up to half a fully-fledged young adult. He’s halfway to being waist deep in a university degree. Or an apprenticeship. Or possibly his second gap year. Whatever path he chooses, he’ll be entrenched in adulthood.

           

The odds are high that he’ll be out of my house and living elsewhere. And that’s a sobering thought. A thought that brings a lump to my throat and makes my chest constrict a little. A thought that causes my mind to flood with questions. Have I been a good enough mother? Am I raising him well enough? Am I enjoying my time with him enough? Do I sweat the small stuff too much?

           

He’s at the age where I can see glimpses of the man he is on his way to becoming. The man I hope he will be. It’s infused in everything he does. It’s in the way he moves. The way he tilts his head. The way he expresses his opinions. The way he treats others. And yet, for now, he’s still a little boy. For now, but not for much longer.

           

We have our children for such a short time, in the big scheme of things, before we have to release them into the world. So now, with ten barging its way in through the front door without even knocking, each moment feels more weighted with significance. Every action seems more like a chance to impact this boy who is on the fast track to manhood.

           

But for today, I’m not going to think about it. I’m just going to read to him for a bit longer when he asks me to, as he always does when it’s time for lights out. Because one day, all too soon, he won’t ask any more. Because today, he’s still just my little boy. 

            

Raising Muslim boys

STORY and PHOTO: Katrina Condie

MAKING IT WORK: Australian woman Emily Richardson married an Egyptian Muslim man 11 years ago and the couple are now raising their two sons to be “respectful and accepting of other people’s beliefs”, splitting their lives between the bustling metropolis of Cairo and a pristine beach hamlet on the South Coast of NSW.

  

Raising Aussie Muslim boys to ‘be part of the solution’

  

“Our similarities are much greater 

than our differences… 

if more people 

could get into that mental space 

the world would be much better for it.”

Emily Richardson didn’t know how her parents would react when she rang to tell them she was getting married.

It wasn’t the fact that she was on the other side of the world, or that she was marrying an Egyptian man - it was that he was Muslim.

Emily grew up on a farm in New South Wales, Australia, where she, her three brothers and their parents attended the local Presbyterian service every Sunday and said grace before dinner each night.

With a strong Scottish heritage, Emily’s upbringing was far from multicultural, attending an Anglican high school and an all-girls Christian school in Sydney.

In fact, she had no idea about the Middle East and no exposure to Islam. “I had absolutely no understanding of the culture and it wasn’t really on my radar. There was no frame of reference for me.”

The stereotypical perception of the Islamic religion – bearded men and oppressed women - fuelled Emily’s trepidation in telling her parents.

But, as it turned out, the family was supportive of her decision and they were interested in learning more about Muslim beliefs and customs.

"I thought mum and dad might freak out - maybe they did and just didn’t say anything," Emily said.

"I’m sure they had many reservations about the situation, stemming from the fact that they knew little about the culture and hadn't met Ahmed, but I didn't doubt that they’d be supportive of us and welcome him into the family, which they did."

Some of Emily’s friends weren't so supportive, warning her she was making a huge mistake.

"I did have a couple of friends who were very concerned that I was getting into a situation that would backfire badly for me," she said. "One friend was horrified and tried to talk me out of it."

They had met two years earlier when Ahmed spotted Emily through the crowd at a rooftop party in Cairo, where she had just taken up a position teaching English in 1999. "As legend has it, he saw me from across the other side of the roof and decided we had to meet," she laughed. "He was very open and friendly - and very funny. We were great friends and had a very easy relationship from day one."

A few weeks after meeting, Ahmed took Emily to meet his family. They warmly welcomed the Australian woman who was still finding her feet in a foreign land.

“His family were very accepting of me,” she said. “They knew I'd been raised in a Christian environment and as Christians and Muslims believe in the one God, it wasn't a problem.

“I’m sure his family had some concerns about the cultural differences at first, but they realized pretty quickly that Ahmed was serious about me and they got on with getting to know me.

“They are all very open-minded and easygoing. Now I feel just like one of the family.”

It was a similar story when Ahmed came to Australia and met Emily’s parents and brothers.

The couple spoke early on about children and how they would be raised. “It’s very, very important to have all the big discussions prior to marriage,” she said. “What religion the children will be and what the expectations of both partners are.”

Now living with two young sons, Ziad and Nazar, in Australia, with her parents and one brother just around the corner, Emily and Ahmed are lapping up the Aussie laidback lifestyle.

“Ahmed loves it here,” Emily said. “We spend a lot of time at the beach and going for long walks. Ahmed is a great dad and does a lot with the boys.”

But every day she’s in Australia, walking on a deserted pristine beach, surrounded by bushland - a life that many would give their right arm for - Emily is dreaming of being back in Cairo.

Egypt has dug its claws in deep.

The family spends about three or four months a year in Heliopolis, a middle class suburb of Cairo. “When I’m there, I feel like I'm in the centre of the universe, and when I’m away, I can’t wait to go back,” she said.

“I like it here, in Australia, but it just doesn’t touch me like Egypt does - the smells, the activity - all your senses are bombarded. It’s so vibrant, pulsating and exhausting and life is lived in the moment. I love the whole Egyptian culture, the music, language, the food. You walk outside and there are kids playing soccer in the street, men selling bread, men selling fairy floss, women selling vegetables on the corner. Even if you’re completely alone, you feel a part of the community around you.”

She said the boys thrive on being exposed to the culture and the language. “Nazar loves all the stray cats in Egypt and Ziad loves going to the markets,” she said.

“They see extreme poverty and interact with kids who are dirt poor and kids who are very well off.

“They see that money doesn’t make a good person, through their interaction with these children and the dynamics in their little group of friends and acquaintances - life for the majority of people in Egypt is a struggle.”

Emily said many Westerners still have a distorted view of the Middle East, its people and its culture.

She said the people there have an “almost magnetic quality” about them.

“Egyptians possess a certain indefinable quality that is really difficult to describe - even in their darkest moments, of which there have been many in the last ten years.

 “And the Egyptian sense of humour is unbeatable - Egyptians are hilarious.”

Despite the common belief that Muslim men who marry foreign women demand their wives convert to Islam, Emily explained that, “It’s expected that the children will be Muslim but other than that no real conversion of beliefs is expected - although it differs depending on the socioeconomic status of the family, and most families would greatly hope that the woman would adopt their beliefs for her own sake.”

She said at no time was she asked to convert to Islam and she is not required to wear a headscarf while in Egypt - expect when entering a mosque.

“There is a definite stereotype about not only women who convert to Islam, but all Muslim women being dominated and subservient,” she said.

“Of course there are many cases where this is true, but in my experience it is in no way the norm,” Emily explained.

“It usually stems, in my opinion, from a certain interpretation of the Qur’an by a certain type of man that in no way represents the moderate Muslim man - at least none that I know.

“Historically, Muslim woman have had more rights for far longer than women in the West, if the religion is followed correctly.

“The right to vote and the right to own property are two that spring to mind.

“My own mother-in-law, for example, was a lawyer who worked her whole life until she retired a couple of years ago.”

Prior to commencing work in Cairo, Emily had back-packed through Egypt five years earlier while travelling with a friend. She had no idea what the country would be like, but was instantly drawn to the place and its people.

Looking back, she said she feels “almost embarrassed” about the way she used to think. “When I think about when I was growing up and in college, I didn’t know what Islam was and had very little exposure to multiculturalism. I feel like I was quite judgmental about a lot of things without really understanding them.

“I don’t know where the ideas came from, or why I thought that way. I just did.”

Emily believes many people throughout the world still think like that.

“There is a lot of bias against Muslims and Arabs,” she said.

“Some of the things I read and see in the media just leave me shaking my head because they are so inaccurate and so overgeneralized.

“I can’t relate them at all to the people I know.

“It makes me sad more than anything because I know this culture and it is amazing, rich and multi-faceted.”

Now living in a small town, where they are the only Egyptian family and the boys are the only Muslim students at their school, Emily said it is important for her and Ahmed to raise their children without bias and with an understanding and acceptance of other people’s beliefs, religion and customs.

“We try to instil in them that other people have different beliefs and that’s okay because everyone is free to choose and follow what is in their heart,” she said.

“My kids being accepting and open-minded is one of the most important things to me and it’s something we often talk about with the boys.

“There are so many stereotypes out there that are just wrong, so it’s important to me that my boys be part of the solution - and not part of the problem.

“I want them to understand that they’re in a position where they’re representing their Egyptian culture when they’re here in Australia and their Australian culture when they’re in Egypt and that people will judge others based on their behaviour.”

“Our sons know that they are Muslim and they know that their grandparents in Australia are Christian,” Emily said. “They also know that we all believe in the same one God.

“They know that the main difference is that in Islam Jesus is a prophet, while Christians believe that he is the son of God.”

The family still celebrates Christmas and Easter together, though as non-religious celebrations, and if they are in Egypt at the time they are more “low key affairs”. They also observe Ramadan, when Ahmed and Emily fast, and celebrate the two Eids (Islamic festivals).

Emily is this month celebrating becoming an Egyptian citizen. “I have felt Egyptian for so long anyway that it’s nice that it’s now official,” she said.

With a brother-in-law jailed for a year for speaking out against the military, the political system is a subject close to Emily’s heart and she is pleased she will have the right to vote in future presidential elections.

“Egyptians have been oppressed by the ruling regime for over 30 years, with little freedom of speech and terrible human rights abuses,” she said.

“There’s an ongoing struggle to meet the demands of last year’s revolution, but there are so many factors at play, so much corruption and so many people trying to protect themselves that it seems not much has changed yet. But we still have faith…”

She said, contrary to widespread belief and “media hype” many ordinary Muslims and Christians live harmoniously in the suburbs of Egypt. “Most Egyptian Muslims I know have Christian friends, and vice versa,” she said. “I don’t see the divide as being on the street level but something that is exacerbated higher up.”

Emily believes a solution will be found to the problems being faced by Egyptians and she also feels if people in general were more accepting and respectful of others’ beliefs, the world would be a better place.

She said her cross-cultural relationship was a “microcosm of the larger picture.”

“I am very into East-West relations and bridging the gap, so to speak. And with relationships such as ours, you quickly realize that our similarities are much great than our differences,” she said.

“And it’s such a simple realization that more people would have if they were exposed to ‘the other side’.

“The bottom line is that we’re all people, we all care about the same basic things.

“If more people could get into that mental space the world would be much better for it.”

***

Emily’s “addiction” to Egypt inspired her first novel called The Nile is a Road, which has been published in Egypt and will soon be available in Australia.

It’s the story of two foreign girls who travel to Cairo together. They only plan to stay a week and see the pyramids. However, once there they meet and befriend some local men and find that they don’t want to leave.

“The book is about their experiences in Cairo and the effect the people have on them, with a lot of cultural references and anecdotes,” Emily said. “Cairo is filled with so many stories that I knew I would set my first book there. I love Egypt so much that I want to tell everyone about it and I hope that my book does this.”

Moments: Hawawshi

This is the sort of thing I love about Cairo: You're out for an afternoon walk. Feeling a little thirsty, you stop at the nearest kiosk to buy a bottle of water, only to be overcome with the most amazing and unmistakable aroma drifting towards you from inside. Your first thought is proven correct as you see the young guy sitting behind the counter opening the silver foil covering his hawawshi, the steam rushing out.

Hawawshi is just one of those things that is so good (unless you're a vegetarian, in which case take no heed) that it can't really be adequately described. It's made from baladi bread, Egypt's version of pita bread (but much better) stuffed with spicy minced meat, brushed with oil, wrapped in aluminium foil and baked for about half an hour.

Being a hawawshi enthusiast, I was compelled to comment how beautiful the smell was and ask him if it was from a good shop (fellow hawawshi people having instilled in me the importance of verifying the quality of hawawshi establishments, which are prone to using questionable meat), thinking we could stop by and pick some up on our way home. He immediately picked it up and held it out to me to take. I refused. He insisted, waving it towards me. I thanked him and refused again.

Then, from beside me, my son's voice chimed in. "Aah, is that hawawshi?" The young man behind the counter smiled down at him as he tore his lunch down the middle and thrust half of it into the hands of my son, who didn't hesitate in accepting it and the kindness with which it was given.

As we continued our walk, the aroma of the hawawshi and the ripple effects of this man's generosity followed us down the street.

Egypt. The same but different.

Flying into Cairo this time—the first since the Revolution—felt a little different than flying into Cairo typically does. To begin with, the airport was very hushed, with a notable absence of men approaching with oversized trolleys insisting we needed assistance with our luggage. Happily, I took possession of a trolley and attended to my own luggage without anyone saying anything or trying to muscle in.

While not venturing too far beyond my local neighbourhood this first week, initial impressions were quick to form. And in my world first impressions count for a lot.

It’s often the little touches that make the biggest impact. The things you don’t notice or brush over when they are there typically leave the most gaping holes when they’re gone. (Bearing in mind that not all gaping holes are bad things.)

While aware of the possibly scientifically illogical nature of it, what struck me immediately is that the air seems cleaner. And yet, there it is. Cleaner, fresher air. It feels easier to breathe in Cairo than before.

And so it is also with the traffic, which is the same but different somehow in a way my finger can’t quite place itself on. Not as intensely frustrating perhaps? A feeling that even if things are moving at a snail's pace they are, in fact, actually moving and the destination is both visible and reachable?

While it’s tempting to say that the heat is oppressive, that would be a little impertinent considering Cairo is now on the tail end of summer and actually a couple of weeks into autumn. Along with the fact that talking about the weather is dull and the general population is already aware that Egypt is a hot place for a large chunk of the year. Suffice to say that the heat is currently just a little prickly if one is walking out and about in the middle of the day.

Optimism hangs so much more lightly in the air than despair. And today, a cool breeze weaves its way intermittently through the hot sky.

Oh, how the rhetoric about Egypt has changed!

A thought ran like a loop through my mind for years as I watched Egypt’s immeasurable potential sink further and further into despondency with the passing of time: Egypt should be the best country in the world. And not because of its pivotal geographical location, the Pyramids, the Red Sea, the history, the Nile, the Suez Canal or the abundance of other fabulous things the country has to offer – although they certainly play a part – but because of the best thing about Egypt. The people. Egypt has always been about the people, who have a very particular, largely indefinable quality.

For a long time now, there have been echoes of the same tedious rhetoric: Egyptian people are too apathetic, too demoralized, too afraid, too lacking in hope to ever rise up against oppression. But on January 25, the people did rise up, the people broke through their fear, the people persisted, united and triumphed – and they did it peacefully. Because of this they have become an inspiration for people everywhere. This revolution has proven so many people wrong and has swept away decades, if not centuries, of stereotypes and bigoted perceptions about the Middle East and Arabs... at least for those who are willing to listen with open ears. At the same time it has set an incredible example for the world to follow. Cheesy as it may sound, because of 18 days in Egypt, there is renewed hope for all of humanity.

There are no pithy little phrases that could adequately describe what Egypt could now become, now that the sum of her unified voices has been unleashed.

Nobody is under the illusion that reconstructing Egypt will be a walk in the park. Obviously the post-revolution road ahead will be filled with many stones. But the thought running through my head has changed. Should has been replaced with will.

Egypt will be the best country in the world. Because of the people.

Egypt will not be silenced!

The silence is eerily deafening. Barely anyone from Egypt is online, with all ISPs having been shut down except one – Noor – apparently because that’s the one used by the stock exchange and some banks. Mobile phone services are erratic at best.

A whole country has been wiped off the Internet map as Hosni Mubarak and his regime try to silence a nation and isolate them from communication with the outside world. Clearly, it’s also to shield their ongoing crimes against humanity - and quite possibly intended massacre - from the eyes of the world.

Today is the fourth day Egyptians have protested across the country against the barbaric, corrupt regime that has been in power uncontested for almost 30 years. Further protests are coming in a couple of hours, after Friday prayers at 1:00pm Egypt time. Reports from eyewitnesses on twitter say plainclothes police/thugs are dowsing cars and public squares with petrol, presumably in order to set them on fire during the protests and blame protesters, thus giving them an excuse to attack them. Or, perhaps – God forbid – to set the public areas aflame once they’re filled with people.

It's also reported that the regime's thugs are also out in large numbers armed with knives and baseball bats.

Contrary to popular public opinion in the US and other countries, these protests are not being led by the Muslim Brotherhood (although some members of the MB are reported to be protesting as individuals) or, in fact, by any single group. They are being powered by the people, by individual Egyptians who have had enough.

Do whatever you can to support them and let the world know they’re being heard.

Only God knows what will happen in Egypt over the coming hours and days. But to all of Egypt and all Egyptians… your white heart is beating loudly and we can hear you.