Death Becomes Her

She used to sit in the office next to mine. I heard her laugh and talk and breathe.

One day she passed away. Her office is now empty and there are only the soothing sounds of the Quran coming from there.

I want to talk about what I learned.
I learned to say thank you, every time.
I learned to ask about people, how they are, what they need, what they want and hope for.
I learned to always say hello to everyone and smile first.
I learned to say the good things immediately; there may never be a later.
God’s love, tolerance and endless mercy were confirmed to me.

She rests in peace.

“Jazz is my Jihad”

I used to be a writer.

Back in London, as an aspiring journalist who basically had no idea what I was doing, I arranged my first interview for a website which no longer exists. I was their art & culture correspondent, and now that I look back, Gilad Atzmon (an Israeli jazz musician) was an interesting choice considering I was writing for Arabia Online.

I have no idea now how I found out about him, but his pro-Palestinian views and my love for jazz music may have had something to do with it. I went to meet him at one of his performances at a jazz club in central London and found a man of great talent, and great power. An Israeli, who was once in the army, who woke up one day, looked around him and decided that Israel was no longer a place he could call home. I went to see him perform several times after that, and each time I was struck by the energy that rushes off of this musician in tsunami waves whilst he performs.

What was said during the interview was controversial to say the least, and although I edited out as much as I could, it still never got published.

The reason Gilad comes to mind now is of course the atrocities that are currently happening in Gaza as I write this, and on which I have failed to find the energy to comment on in this blog -not because I don’t care about the people who are losing their lives needlessly, but because I am truly sick of politics, violence and bloodshed - particularly in the Middle East.

I am sick of both sides of this bullshit feud, and to say I wish they would just live in peace sounds childish and naive to say the least.

I stopped watching the news long ago, but there is no escaping what is happening in Gaza. The fact that I have a child of my own, who I would want to protect from a simple breeze (like they say in Egypt) doesn’t make it any easier. I can’t even begin to imagine what parents are going through at this very moment, wondering whether their children will make it through this horror, and whether they themselves will survive to take care of them, and I don’t want to.

I want to tell you a true story.

Once upon a time, there was a pro-Palestinian demonstrator, just like the millions who are marching through cities all over the world today. To say she hated Israelis is to put it lightly.
She was also a girl looking for her father, just like the thousands who are searching for a lost parent all over the world today, and she found him. With him she found two brothers she never knew she had - and they were raised as orthodox Jews. They had both volunteered in the Israeli army and navy, only a week each, but still. They had lived on kibbutzes and celebrated Hanukkah, and eaten kosher. They were supposed to be her idea of a sworn enemy, yet the first time she laid eyes on them she fell in love.

That’s what life does to you, when you think you are better, or have more rights, or are special in some way. It smashes your well formulated opinions, beliefs and judgments in to the nearest wall.

And you become more human for it; more worth the life you have been given.

Watch Gilad perform here.
Visit his website here.
Watch Jazz is my Jihad here.

Sexual Harassment Delivery

Of course I have my own sexual harassment story to tell, it happened in the pre-car period of my Cairo life. Which by the way has provided me with much needed protection, even though it only takes about 5 mins of driving for me to completely lose it, at least I don’t have to deal with about 90% of the harassment that I did pre-car.

One night as I was walking to the hairdressers a pubescent creature on a bike came up behind me very quietly, grabbed my boob quite casually and pedaled away as fast as his grimy little legs would go. I was so shell shocked I had no idea what the hell I should do, apart from scream profanities at him as loud as I could, in the hope that someone with an ounce of decency would intervene and maybe knock him off his bike (which looking back is what I should’ve done). Nobody even batted an eyelid.

To cut a long story short, I jumped in a taxi and attempted to find him before breaking down and wiping my tears away with tissues offered to me by the nice taxi driver man. A couple of hours later, after getting my hair done (what?), Hori and I went on a manhunt for a cretin wearing a red football t-shirt with the number 10 and some foreign players name on the back, the only description I had to go by. It must have been red t-shirt night.

As always, cont in next post...

Sexual Harassment Delivery 2

A couple of weeks later, this time in broad daylight I was walking home, and some lad again on a bike, started following me, I wasn’t about to let that boob incident happen to me a second time, so I waited till we were face to face, and I asked him “Fee 7aga?” (Is there something I can do for you?) and his reply was “Aiywa, ayez ado something I can’t really repeat on this blog.” (Yes, I would like to put something where the sun does not shine).

So I challenged him to do it, a sort of come on then if you think you’re man enough, he was taken aback by this but kept circling me with his bike anyway, not quite sure what to do next, and this didn’t make his small talk any more polite.. so I made like I was going to run after him, and I was wearing my trainers this time and had every intention of knocking him to the ground and kicking the kaka out of him. So he rode off.

Now there is a reason for this random rant, and seeing as blogger doesn’t usually let me write anything longer than a paragraph, I will continue in za nekxt wan.

Just a Note

For some reason, Blogger wont allow me to write long ranting posts and prefers get-to-the-point versions, so i have been forced to post some of my stories in two parts (or more), this is not for added dramatic effect, its just the only way i can get longer stuff published.

Oh well.

Justice for Once

If you live in Cairo and drive then you know how beautiful it is to find a place to park your car.
We share a car park with our neighbouring building and it was defintely one of the reasons why i chose this place when we were recently home hunting.
But, a couple of weeks ago a strange thing occurred. Someone (can u say high ranking police official) decided that he wanted half, YES half, of the car park all to his little self. Complete with two suits and their respective sunglasses and walkie talkies. So he cordoned it off with chains and yellow lines and wouldnt allow anyone to even drive through the space, even if they lived in his building too.
Now, after almost 5 years of living in egypt i have seen a lot of injustice, and have sadly become quite accustomed to it, so even though this was directly affecting my ability to park my car every day, i ranted for a couple of days about it to all who would listen ( including the poor security guys downstairs), but then just moved on. Looking out of my window i could see the stark difference between the two car parks, ours was full of cars, double and triple parked, and his was completely empty...

Justice for Once...Part 2

Then a rumor began to spread that the residents of the two buildings (who include some high ranking army officials) were actually going to do something about this ridiculous situation. They were saying that the land doesnt belong to him and that he has no right to do this, even if he is AMN DAWLA (National Security). Of course i didnt believe that for a minute, because Egyptians are very talented when it comes to accepting the status quo and all that.
Yet yesterday morning i witnessed a miracle taking place at my doorstep in the form of the Egyptian army! A bus load of soldiers basically stormed the car park, forcibly unlocked the entrance, leveled all the chains and posts and took them with them. I have never been so happy to see army people in my entire army-hating existence.
Horizontal husband, ever the cautious one, reminded me however that the residents would still be too scared to cross the little man by parking their cars in the lot, seeing as he might seek revenge by making their lives hell in an official manner. So i waited to see if the people were really entirely lost and broken, or whether they would actually continue the good fight.

And guess what? They did, they gave the little man the big collective finger :)
3Amaar ya masr!

Shakira Fiasco

trekking in the desert, no way of contacting others because ur mobile network is too busy to care that ur lost, stuck in traffic for 4, i repeat, four hours, only to catch Shakira waving her tits at u from a giant screen and saying "goodbye egypt, mwa! i love you!"

did i mention finding ur car by coincidence in the middle of the desert where it was ditched in a last feeble attempt to catch the concert in time.

a guy in a car next to us " dee law shakira kanet betewled gowa, makansh dah koloh 7asal."

i wont translate, its not funny in english.

the pyramids were nice though.

Lesson Learned

Do not write long detailed passionate eloquent post directly into blog.