Them & Us
The two camps were quite obvious: ‘them‘ and ‘us‘.
Them consisted of children playing bare-footed, clothes slightly grubby, young girls wearing over-sized earrings and handmade necklaces that reached down way past their flat chest. Dirt-stained faces and brown-stained teeth, with guys strutting around in ship-ships (flip-flops).
Us consisted of tweezer-perfected eyebrows, designer shades, degree-holders and bright smiles. Name-branded attire, some sort of grasp of the English language, and refusal for the kids to play with their’s.
The feast was amazing; it was an ensemble of rice, pastries, pizza, samboosa, cannelloni and shipsi. They looked on, as they knew they couldn’t get a share, and we didn’t even think to share. Their necks were stretched for a better view as they watched us eating from afar – just a few yards away, in reality.
Maybe that’s the way things are. Maybe that’s the way things have to be. Or is it?
The food was in abundance, and there were only 30 of us. There was more than enough to go around for them too; in actual fact, the leftovers could have been given to them, even if it was nothing but an afterthought. I’m sure it would’ve been accepted. But who am I to speak? I am the outsider, and what right does an outsider have to question the way of the people?
Nevertheless, the park isn’t for us alone, nor for them exclusively – it is for all: us, them, the birds and the insects too. Yet, right there, by the Nile that unites so much more than people, there was a clear sight of the two groups, each firm in their camp – on their side.
I guess… that’s the way things are and will be.
– The Londoner