Where I Call Home…
I trod on its sands, had my feet lapped by the sea of its shores, learned to ride a horse in its desert in the shadow of its heritage, heard a choral of calls to prayer and church bell rings beckoning people of similar faiths to worship God within its land.
I learned to commute to and from work in a language that often left me speechless, shared laughs with children I could barely communicate with, bought the most intensely tongue-tickling strawberries, mangos, melons and oranges, devouring them before my mind completed the process of comprehension of their deliciousness.
I had my feet rubbed in dust, walked past donkeys and horses as they aided the poorest in their trade, shopped, ate and drunk at the largest shopping mall in the whole of the Middle East.
I exchanged smiles with the toothless, drunk tea with intellectuals, was inspired by the thoughtful and even learned to appreciate the talents of Amr Diab.
I shouted with the repressed, sighed with tired protesters, gave water to the wounded, showed anger at the looters and guided an old lady who was afraid of the huge army tanks stationed along her path.
All in Egypt, the country I’ve grown to love. The country I miss dearly. The country I call home. God-willing, I will be back there soon. InshaAllah.