SANDStorm

After a month of wishing we could go to a coffeeshop or drink water in public during the middle day, or of enjoying the quiet on the streets soon after dusk, Ramadan has come to an end. For our last gasp to celebrate Ramadan, we headed into the heart of Islamic Cairo, to Khan al-Khalili last Friday night.

The bazaar was packed shoulder to shoulder with Cairenes looking for good bargains in preparation for Eid el-Fitr, the three-day holiday following Ramadan when children are traditionally given new clothes and gifts. We shuffled through the crowds on our way to the 15th century Al-Ghouri Palace to listen to Spanish medival music, walking around rows of tables laid out with children’s clothes, model cars, socks, and headscarves.

We stopped at Fishawy’s coffeeshop around midnight to catch our breath and watch the crowds pass by. Groups of men sat on the small wooden chairs lining the walls of the alley, drinking mint tea and smoking shisha. An ‘oud player and percussionist played lively songs for a family sitting across the alley from us. The family and nearby customers sang and clapped along with the songs – occasionally someone in the wooden balcony above us added a loud and long tttrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiillllllllllllllllllllll.

To our right, a group of young, professional men sat down and said hello to D. D joined their invitation for conversation and discovered they were eager to talk about cultural differences. D learned from them that our friend A was respectably dressed that evening in her long sleeved, button-up shirt and jeans, but that “anything less would not be ok.” He also found out that there is no word in Arabic for “boyfriend” or “girlfriend” since that type of relationship doesn’t exist.

To our left was a group of middle-aged men who interjected English into their conversation in what seemed to be an attempt to bait me into conversation. Of course, after an hour or so, I couldn’t resist the bait and found myself the audience for the former dentist-turned lawyer’s rapid-fire jokes.

Former dentist, turned lawyer says to me: “What does the sheep say in English?”
Me: “baah.”
Former dentist, turned lawyer: “What does the sheep say in Arabic?”
Me: “umm, i haven’t learned animal noises yet.”
Former dentist, turned lawyer: “The sheep says, ‘water!'”
(Laughter all around the table).

He followed that up with, “and why does the Arabic-speaking sheep speak English?!?” (more hilarious laughter).

We left the Khan around 2 a.m. with no indication that the party was ending soon. Families and young teenagers were still roaming al-Hussain Square and groups of friends were still crowded around small, spindly-legged, brass tables at the cafes, drinking tea, talking, and laughing together.

With the end of Ramadan begins Eid el-Fitr. Tuesday morning I woke up at six a.m. to the sound of at least five loudspeakers in our neighborhood all sounding the call to prayer and then – fireworks. (It’s now nearly 11 p.m. and the bang, bang, bang of fireworks is still loud and clear).

I left the house later that day and ran into the daughter of our building’s doorman who was dressed in a new skirt and beaming with pride. As I walked to the subway station, young boys ran around the streets, shooting at each other with plastic handguns, shotguns, or machine guns. Not the plastic, green kinds which shoot water, but very, very, real-looking guns (at least to someone like me who has very limited experience with real guns).

Tags: Egypt, Tag Index

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