i tried to contain it as much as i could but since I’ve booked my ticket I thought you all should know.
I’M GOING TO EGYPT IN TWO WEEKS. there has to be a word that describes a feeling that is beyond happiness and exciteness. Those words don’t suffice.
But on the brighter side of things, instead of constantly reblogging pictures of Egypt, i’ll upload ones of my own.
lets just hope i don’t super glue myself to that country.
What attracted him to her was something that he felt but couldn’t describe, something purely Egyptian like ful, taamiya, bisara, the ringing laugh, belly dancing, Sheikh Muhammad Rifaat’s voice in Ramadan, and his mother’s supplications after dawn prayers. She represented all that he missed after two years away from home.
-Chicago by Alaa Al Aswany
Have you ever felt connected to something you can’t really claim as your own? I was born and raised in America, yet my heart is filled with the warmth of Egypt. When people ask me why I love it so much, I’m at loss for words. I can’t say its the crowdedness or the trash that is everywhere. I can’t say its the traffic, or the fights that randomly break out. I can’t say its the poverty that has riddled the country.
I can’t. But I can’t find words to describe my love. Of its people, and their sense of humor. Or of its Nile and its silent magic. Of its alleyways and their history.
I can never explain why I love it- I just say there’s something in its air that I’ve inhaled and I was never able to exhale.
I miss you, Masr.
I worry for you, Egypt. I worry for you and your brave children. Tomorrow is going to be an important day in your history and I don’t know how history will tell it. Will it be bloody? Will you lose many children? Will it be the turning point of a new era? Or a failed attempt to end this one?
I worry for you, Egypt. I worry for that spirit that has endured so much, yet still is able to smile at the end of the day. I worry for the kindness of your children. Will they still be kind after today? Maybe kinder? Maybe so kind, that the world comes just to drown in their kindness.
I worry for you, Egypt. I worry that with your access to the outside world severed, we won’t hear your cries. Or your screams. Will you call us to celebrate your new found freedom? Or call on us to save you from the oppressive regime that isn’t budging and is violating your humanity?
I worry for so much, Egypt. I worry for not being able to see the sun set on the Nile. I worry that I won’t be able to see you happy and laughing, throwing your head back with no care in the world. I worry that I won’t be able to see your poor children talk with eloquent poetry about their work day.
Yet as much as I worry, Egypt, I believe. I believe in your will for change and freedom. I believe in your will for your future generation to smell air free of pressure and oppression. I believe in your will of social equality.
Egypt, I believe in you. I believe in your children. In your ancient alleyways decorated with stories of fore fathers who have fought similar wars. I believe in the depths of emotion that I have come to realize on your land. I believe in every man, women, child, Muslim, Christian. I believe in you, Egypt.
Stay safe and beautiful, Egypt. And take care of your children, for among them is my family in which you cradle between your arms. Wounded soldiers, ready for battle.
I posted this a year ago- and it pains me to see how relevant it still is, almost a year later. But I won’t lose hope. I won’t.