My first memory involving Egypt, or my idea of Egypt, goes back to when I was in preschool - it is, in fact, one of my earliest, formative memories. This was the 1980's, and if you grew up in the 1980's you should be familiar with the Atari 2600 videogame console - the height of home entertainment fair with its 2 bit graphics and classic games like 'Donkey Kong' and 'Super Mario" lighting up many an orange-shag-carpeted rumpus room. One of my favourite games, or the game I remember most from then (even though I was barely old enough to hold a joystick), was called "Riddle of the Sphinx". It involved a fairly complex (for the time), plot of guiding oneself through a bright white desert platform, through palm trees and camels, past dangerous Scorpions and replenishing oasis', gaining special abilities through contact with Pharaonic deities Isis and Anubis, to eventually "solve" the riddle of the Sphinx. I remember being a preschooler transfixed by this game, and heartbroken when eventually the cartridge was somehow lost as we moved to a new duplex. This memory of the game (as well as another -purchased one boxing day at the local 'Consumers Distributing' - entitled "Desert Falcon", which involved navigating ones bird through the desert), never left me, and as absurd as it might sound, has contributed to the pull and claim that Egypt (and deserts and the whole "Middle East", in general), has over me.
I am part of the generation raised on video games and thriller movies, snapshots of faraway places and snippets of information on the backs of cereal boxes, T-shirts and commercial advertisements, so the idea that a video game instilled in me my first glimpse of wanderlust, doesn't seem entirely inappropriate. 21'st century mystics aren't solely of the pen and paper kind - fate and spirituality and little glittering traces of God can be found in neon packaging and bad graphics, not only leather bound scrolls or religious texts. As I grew older, my travel interests became more specific and substantial, but the first divine sparks of inspiration were most definitely laid by that video game, in the little apartment block, long long ago.
Last weekend I visited the Cairo-famous Citystars mall, a monstrous, giganta-mall structure with several Cinemas (including the VIP theater where you can lounge on lazy-boy chairs and have waiters bring you spring rolls and cappuccinos), 7 levels of shops, 2 food courts (where I go to get my Dairy Queen fix), and, keeping the thread of Egyptian specific tradition alive, full of smoky sheesha cafes and prayer rooms outside the lavatories. It sometimes pains me to think of how much time I have spent in malls here in Cairo, but whereas in North America the mall is a place to buy things, in Cairo its a full day family outing, and more of an entertainment ritual, and I have actually really enjoyed my mall days. Anyways, as we drove our long taxi ride there, we passed over the City of the Dead - that infamous zone of ancient cemeteries and mosques, occupied by Cairo's poorest who live literally in Mausoleums, amongst the dead. As we careened and waived in and out of traffic on the overpass, the glistening mid-day heat wavering overhead, palm trees breaking up the dusty yellow skyline of minarets and crumbling bricks and arched roofs...I remembered that video game, and all my thoughts as a child: What would this fantastic legendary place called Egypt, be like?
I cannot believe that I have lived in that place, Egypt, the mythical setting of that video game, for the past year. Pollution and malls and everyday life have not dulled or obscured the magic of this experience; Even if I have never solved the riddle of the Sphinx, even if several thousand years have passed since Anubis lurked in the corners of the desert and even if ol' Sphinx face herself, (or as she is know in Arabic أبو الهول Abū al-Haul, "The terrifying one"), is now situated in the midst of the ramshackle suburb of Giza. I grew up in the barren cold Canadian Prairies, in small apartments and bunkbeds shared with my brother; Egypt was something video games were made about, and fantastical movies and television programs, and maybe, if you were lucky, some place that rich people visited on African Safaris. I had a friend in high school who lived in a big house in the suburbs, full of expensive furniture and a backyard hot tub; "My mother bought this chair in Egypt", my friend had said, and I remember praying in my head that I would at least one day make it outside the giant vastness of Canada.
So here I am, musing and remembering, after a year spent in Cairo - or 'Al-Qahira, mother of the world', as she is known in these parts. It has been an unforgettable experience, and I am so glad I jumped at the chance last summer, when I was hired for this job at the last minute. I have learned how to become an actual teacher, I have seen it through to the end (something I have trouble doing, being the spontaneous and restless person I am), I have had the joy of family and friends visiting me here to share the adventure, and most importantly, I have gotten to experience Cairo on a much deeper level than my first visit here as a backpacker, 4 years ago. Cairo is not a city that is prone to love at first sight; beyond the impressive tourist bubble, the reality here can be frustrating, gritty, challenging if not heartbreaking. But to those willing to spend enough time, and persist, the magic and mystery weaves itself into daily life: The weekly routines of grocery shopping and buying astoundingly cheap fresh produce; goodmorning hello's to the resident street cats and dogs; feeding animals at the Giza Zoo; late nights in smoky downtown Bellydance clubs; shaking your own moneymaker at bellydance lessons; lazing on the couch with the AC blasting and watching the birds outside, drinking endless cups of instant nescafe coffee; sitting in a cafe during a powercut, eating bites of chocolate cake in the dark; 1001 nights of Syrian shawarma; the ladies balancing boxes on their heads, selling fresh parsley on street corners; the evening neighbourhood lemon man yelling up to the balconies; the many nights spent at the rooftop bar in Zamalek; watching the hazy orange and yellow sunsets in Al Azhar park... all the sightseeing and living ordinary daily life in between. It's been an amazing time, and I am so grateful.