Mustafa's Birthday

 Last night we held our first birthday party (in the village) hosting our Nubian friend, Mustafa* and his family.  Mustafa comes to our home 5 days a week to assist us in improving our Arabic.  He's been a wonderful friend helping us understand a rather difficult language and an even more (seemingly) confusing culture.  

We took our cues for the event from the party that Mustafa hosted for John in December.  Mustafa had insisted that he "make a party" to celebrate John's birthday.  He invited John and I to his family's home in the village.  Emileigh and Jacob were also present so they were invited too.  He told us to arrive at 9 pm.  (That's rather an early start for this group of people, but they were trying to accommodate us.)

We arrived right on time and were promptly greeted by his mother, father and siblings.  They ushered us into a reception room that had seating on 3 sides and a TV on the fourth.  After the initial hellos, we were seated and served cold drinks (sodas, water, juice).  Mustafa smiled and said, "Look. I have Diet Pepsi.  I know you like it."  I smiled.

As we sipped our drinks, we made small talk using a bit of English and a bit of Arabic to convey our thoughts.  They did the same.  Mustafa's father had been a principal of a school near the border of Sudan and his mother a teacher.  We had a few things in common so that provided us with a bit of banter for a while.

Mustafa's brother and sister-in-law came in along with their 1 year old twin sons.  Now the fun really started.  These darling boys were completely entertaining and were immediately endearing.

Mustafa left the room and returned with a giant cake with fruit on one side and chocolate on the other.  On top were two candles with a "4" and an "8".  Somehow, he had researched John's age and managed to find the appropriate candles.  

John made a wish, blew out the candles and the cake was served.  Huge wedges were placed on our plates although protests were made.  Mustafa began teasing his sister-in-law about her cooking telling her that I made "perfect" cakes and should learn how to make them from me.  I reassured her saying that I'm sure she's a fine cook.  She shook her head and said, "No, he is right."  I laughed and welcomed her to come to my home anytime.

We ate the cake, watched the boys play and continued our attempt at conversation.  (I should mention that during the visit the TV was on with an episode of NCIS followed by WWE wrestling.  No, I am not kidding.)  So over the "Masked Minion" or whatever the wrestlers were named blasting their threats to each other, we conversed until tea was served.

Tea is the indicator that the visit is coming to a close and that you are free to go anytime afterward.  We were now coming up on 10:30 pm.  I could tell that Jacob and Emileigh were winding down, but we had to wait for John to make the move to head out. 

The Cake...

John began to graciously thank Mustafa and his parents for opening their home.  We stood up and began the hugging and kissing which always takes place for any entrance or exit.  Jacob was a good sport following suit until we were out the door and walking back toward our home.

When we discovered that Mustafa's birthday was at the end of January, we insisted that we "make a party" for him.  He said, "No, no, it's too much."  Then he reminded us that he is shy and doesn't like big events.  We promised that we would only invite his family and a couple of other friends.  He finally agreed and told us a date and time that would work for his family, Saturday at 8 pm.

John and I worked like beavers to get the house ready.  This was our first hosting of an entire family and we wanted to do things right.  I asked Mustafa what his favorite cake was and he said vanilla.  Vanilla?  Vanilla!  Really?  I was prepared for a variety of responses, but had to try to find inspiration for this particular answer.  I looked until I found "The Best Ever Vanilla Cake."  How could I go wrong?

Singing, "Happy Birthday"

I wanted to make it special so I planned a 3 layer cake with strawberry cream icing.  I searched in town for cake pans, but found that they were only sold in packs of 3 which were small, medium, large.  This meant that when I baked the cake I would be baking one layer, cooling, turning it out on a plate, cleaning the pan and starting over with the next layer.  But you gotta do, what you gotta do.

I began on Friday in case disaster ensued I would have another day for Plan B.  I worked through layer one, then two, then three.  I was trying to recall any episode of "Cake Boss" that I had ever watched in order to get that professional look.  (It's WAY harder than it looks, let's just say.)

The buttercream frosting turned out nicely according to John's taste test.  I bought fresh strawberries and attempted to make them into roses.  Not too shabby.  I put it in the refrigerator to set and cleaned the rest of the house.

At 7:30 pm, our Canadian friends arrived with extra serving trays.  I hadn't known how many to plan for so I wanted to be prepared.  Soon Mustafa, his mother, two brothers, their wives, 3 children and 1 sister arrived.  We gave each other greetings (handshakes for men and kisses for the women) and directed them into our living room.

Make a wish!

They were as nervous as we were.  I tried to greet each one warmly and make them feel at home.  I had candles burning, soft music playing and cold drinks poured.  I could see that they were relaxing a bit and we talked with them a while.  Mustafa was still a bit nervous not sure what kind of party he would be getting.  We had promised him low-key, but added jokingly that we had invited the governor.  He laughed and then said, "Not really, right?"

My friend, Sarah, helped me prepare Mustafa's birthday cake complete with 3 candles she had acquired.  As I carried the cake in, we all sang "Happy Birthday."  He smiled broadly and blew out the candles.  We clapped and began slicing pieces for everyone (large wedges, mind you).

Great Friends!

I had also made a chocolate cake to make sure we had enough to go around.  It's the Hershey cake recipe and frankly there's nothing better on planet Earth than that cake.  In fact, if I were the Cake Boss I would write in my will that my company's final act would be to produce a life-size casket cake made from this recipe and put me in it.  However, that's for another day.

Mustafa began to tease his sister-in-law again telling her that this cake is so good and hers are always so bad.  She said something in Arabic that sounded like sass, but then whispered to me, "I want you to teach me."  I patted her hand and told her I would be happy to do it.

The twin boys liked the cake so much that they screamed in between bites.  Mustafa's mother has diabetes so I brought her a plate of fresh fruit to nibble on.

I went to the kitchen to make tea and my friend, Sarah, came with me.  We began boiling the water and preparing the cups.  Soon Sarah's husband came around the corner, "No tea.  No tea."

What?!  

He said, "They're leaving."

"Leaving?! No one leaves before tea!"  I ran to the living room to see if something had happened.  John looked at me and said that Mustafa assured them they had a wonderful time but that they must go.  We looked at our clock; it was exactly 9 pm.  One hour.  It seems Mustafa must have set a time limit for himself and his family.

I went to each one and thank them for coming.  I told Mustafa's mother how much we appreciated her son and what a good man he was.  She looked at me and said, "No.  I see that you are good people.  I know.  I can tell."  I smiled and gave her a hug.  

Mustafa said over and over, "It was so nice.  Too much.  Too much."  I told him that he's been a wonderful friend and we were happy to celebrate with him.

We made it through each person and John walked them to the front gate toward their home.  He returned and I said, "What was that? Why did they leave?"  Truly it was the shortest visit we had ever had.

John said that Mustafa was just trying to be a good guest.  He knew that his nephews and niece were getting tired and didn't want to risk them going into full meltdown.  I understood having had two children close in age and remembering the panic of knowing when enough was "enough."

Our friends stayed and helped us clean up still shocked by the brevity of the party.  I joked and said, "I bet they'd have stayed longer if we'd had wrestling on."

So another event in our village has happened.  Life on life is what we do.  Sharing highs and lows and simply living life together.  Friendships are formed.  Trust is built.  There's just no shortcut.  It takes time, patience, openness, understanding, vulnerability and more time.  

Thanks for the relationship you've built with us. Thanks for your friendship.  We pray that Jesus would be front and center in all we do here.  But we couldn't do it without you and your trust in us.  Pray with us that we have opportunity to celebrate many more "births" in months and years to come among these beautiful people.

*Not their real names

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Today's BOGO Blog:  I Resolve!

Tea with Brits

Oranges ripe on the tree while we were wandering about...

One thing about living where we do, you never know who you're going to meet.  Such is the case this past week.  We attend a German church that has a small congregation of 15 give or take.  Each time we attend, there will usually be a visitor or two who are here in our town for one reason or the other.  We meet some very interesting people, the latest being two British ladies.

We chatted for a bit and then they asked if I would like to meet for tea.  How could I say no?  British asking ME to tea?!  

I met them at their hotel where I discovered a whole group of senior Brits on 'oliday (say that with a cockney British accent).  They directed me to the veranda where we could "sip in peace" from the group of Egyptian gynecologists who were also staying there.  (Needless to say NO eye contact in the lobby at ALL.)

We visited with one another, all the while I was savoring their accented words.  I told one lady, "If you would just read the ingredients on the back of this sugar packet, I would be thoroughly entertained."  She laughed and said I was "crackers."  See what I mean?

Someone brought up Queen Elizabeth and a twenty minute discussion ensued about how the queen "is worth every penny" she costs.  They spoke of Harry and Wil as though the boys were their sons.  They even told me of an island near Vanauatu that has a religion based around Prince Phillip.  

The view of the first cataract on the Nile.

They changed to the topic of the "brilliant weatha'" that we have in our fair city.  I said, "I dare you to say that in June when your brain is melting."  They laughed and said that is why they only come during these months.  I waited for an offer to come see them in the summer…but only crickets chirped.

Sidenote:  The two Brits actually drank coffee and the American (me) drank tea.  What is wrong with this picture?!

After we finished our drinks, they asked if I wanted a "wander 'round."  Um…maybe?

They continued saying that the hotel had a lovely garden with walking paths.  Ohhhhhh, yes.  That would be nice.

We walked and talked passing a few more of their friends.  One man in a heavy English accent said that he was "feeling much betta today so much so that he was wandering about being a bit naw-tee."  I really couldn't help myself.  I burst into laughter.  He had to be 75 at least and had a twinkle in his eye.  

The ladies had to go to their designated lunch time which meant we had to say our goodbyes.  I desperately wanted to wave while saying, "Pip! Pip! Cheerio!" but I didn't have the guts.

I returned to the apartment with an insatiable desire for a crumpet, but alas John had none ready.  So now I'm going to search for a new episode of Downton Abbey. I might even drink another cuppa while I do!  Brill morning, indeed!

PS.  I will continue "The Visit" tomorrow…

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Today's BOGO Blog:  The Silverware Tray

To get to the hotel you take a ferry boat.
Boys from the village surf alongside and
sing to the foreigners for money.

The Visit: Part 1

A visit to the Harley store…for John, Sr.

Sunday we were dining with friends when one asked, "So what did you do over the holidays?"

I paused and thought, "Where do I begin?"

Not wanting to be rude and say, "Y'know…all kinds of stuff" or "It all started on a dark and stormy night…(insert 1 hour of great detail)" I began to succinctly recount events over the last few weeks.  Later that night I thought, "I'm not sure if I told my friends about all this either! I've got to write a blog entry!"

So here we are.  I would advise you to pause for a moment, pour yourself a cup of your favorite caffeine and prepare yourself.  While I'll try to keep the details reined in, let's be honest…no one who reads blogs wants bullet points.  If we did, we'd all be looking at Twitter right now.

They're here!

I think the last time I left you, we had just said goodbye to our Korean bicyclist and Russian backpacker friends who had stayed with us for a few days.  Following their visit, I began to kick into high gear for "Operation: Emileigh and Jacob Coming."  John knowing me well indulged my requests by lifting, cleaning, toting and offering various (positive) opinions when asked.  This would be the first time that they would see our new home and I wanted it to feel just like that…home.    You see, our girls don't have the opportunity to go home for the weekend or make their way to us on most holidays.  Plane tickets are expensive and the 25-30 hour flights are prohibitive.  All that to say is that when they are with us, we want them to feel very much at home.  (Aria will be joining us this summer.)

Jacob had entered Emileigh's life 3 years ago.  Over a SKYPE meeting (while we were in Sudan), he asked if he could date Emileigh.  We agreed and the relationship grew over time.

Dinner at a Lebanese restaurant

John and I flew to Cairo to meet them, but arrived a couple days early in order to visit the brand new IKEA which had recently opened.  Yes, you read that right.  IKEA has come to Cairo.  Let the angels sing!  I suppose it wouldn't be as big of a deal if we weren't minimalist in our decorating sense.  Most everything sold in Egypt looks like it was produced by Napolean's interior designer…gold, over the top, opulent.  John is Mr. Zen man (which means he would prefer maybe at most a bed, a fridge and one cool lamp) and I am somewhere in between Napolean and Zen.  We roamed for hours and came out with one small throw that is currently on my lap.  (I know big talk for such small purchases, but there's always next time.)

We then prepared to meet Emileigh and Jacob at the airport by leaving our hotel early enough to allow for the constant severe traffic Cairo offers.  They arrived right on time and we were over the moon happy.  They would be with us a total of 9 days which meant we needed to cram a lot of good times in a very short while.  Since it was Friday (or Go to Mosque Day), we just visited with each other at the hotel, ate dinner and prepared for an early start in the morning.

Saturday was the big TOURISTY day.  Emileigh had seen all the sights many times before, but this was Jacob's first visit.  We couldn't disappoint!

The Great Pyramids really are great.

We first took him to the Great Pyramids.  We had hired a driver for the day so he navigated his way through the traffic, through the vendors and up to the main entrance.  Pre-revolution this place would be packed.  Busses would be everywhere and tourists in Hawaiian shirts would be pushing at the gate.  Today, however, we were the only ones.  A sad reminder of the current economic condition here.

Once inside, we began to regale Jacob with stories, facts all the while deflecting the numerous peddlers who smelled fresh bait.  A persistent man offered his camel transport services to which John agreed.  Emileigh and Jacob would ride while John and I would happily stay grounded having had this opportunity before.  They dressed Jacob properly making sure he looked the true part of bedouin and then led them up and around the pyramids.  You don't realize just how huge the structure is until you stand near it for scale.

We took all the necessary pictures near and around the pyramids and the Sphynx (or "spheen-kees") as they say here.

After, we proceeded to the Mena House Hotel for tea.  This hotel along with the Old Cataract Hotel in our fair city are the two most famous places to stay in Egypt.  Apparently Winston Churchill made his rounds too because he stayed at this hotel as well.  We sipped and talked savoring our time together.

Lobby of The Mena House

It takes a while to get from Point A to Point B no matter what time of day you try, so we began the trek back to the hotel where the jet lagged couple were feeling their hours of previous travel.  Emileigh and I headed to our room where we were promptly unconscious.  I'm assuming the men were too.

I had made arrangements earlier for us to meet our good friend, Moody, and his new wife, Margo.  They agreed to meet us for dinner and then run around with us in the evening.  We ate at our favorite place in Maadi called, "Lucille's."  Lucille's reminds us a lot of home where the refills are free and the hamburgers huge.  When we arrived the whole area had had a power outage, but it bothered no one.  We were eventually seated at our table along with a candle while the cooks in the back worked by flashlight.

So many beautiful lanterns…
so little luggage space.

Following dinner, we made our way to the famous market, "Khan al Khalili."  This huge market has been in existence as early as the 1500s as an important trade location in the heart of Cairo's Islamic district.  Emileigh wanted to look for lanterns so we made our way through the cobbled streets, vendors' calls and many Egyptian shoppers.  We found a shop with a huge variety so we stopped and Emileigh went into haggle mode.  She's quite good at this.  I am not.  I watched from the sidelines.  Happy with her purchases, we decided to take a tea break at the famous Fishawi Cafe established and continually running since 1773.  The place was packed and hookahs were everywhere.  Smoke permeated the air and all I could think was, "Poor Jacob.  This is too much too soon."

Fishawi Cafe

A man lifted a small board of watches to eye level for our review and a woman displayed henna designs as we sipped.  We thanked them and declined their offers.  We laughed and talked for a while before I told Moody, "We would like to go to the Qsr el Nil Bridge now."  

"What?!" he said, "The Mortons go to bed at 10 pm.  It's already after 10.  What are you thinking?"  

I told him that this was one of Emileigh's favorite places and that the bridge is more fun if you walk on it at night.  He shook his head and said, "Okay, we will go but if there are tanks there we will have to go another day." I agreed.

The famous lions at Qsr el Nil Bridge

We hailed a small van that could take us all and explained to the driver what we wanted to do.  He nodded and took off in the normal "Bat out of…" fashion that all Cairene drivers do.  The traffic only worsens as the evening progresses so I was hoping that we would 1) be able to get there in a timely fashion and 2) that there would be no tanks present.  The driver pulled up and much to our happiness the bridge was open.

We all piled out and walked along the bridge looking at the Nile River and the city skyline.  Emileigh and Jacob walked a bit further and were being entertained by young teenage boys trying to be impressive (not so much).  We began to talk with Moody when he asked, "Why did you want to come tonight?"  

"Because we think Jacob is going to propose to Emileigh here!" I said in a whispered voice.

"Ooooooooh," he said, "That's awesome."

John said, "Hey, I think this is it."  Sure enough Jacob had asked Emileigh those four wonderful words, "Will you marry me?"  They came back from where they were standing holding hands and wearing huge grins.  

Now THOSE are happy faces...

I screamed and hugged Emileigh.  John hugged Jacob.  Then we all hugged each other as Emileigh showed us her ring.  We gave hearty congratulations and talked over one another in our excitement.  This was epic.  This was one of THOSE moments that you picture in your mind when they are a baby in your arms.  It was here.  Jacob had been the recipient of our years of prayers.  We just hadn't yet known his name.

I snapped back to reality and we began telling the van driver what was happening.  He offered an excited, "Alf mabrook!" (A thousand congratulations!) to Emileigh and Jacob.  We hopped back in the van and once again joined the long line of curling traffic back toward the hotel.  We said goodbye to Moody and Margo and headed to our rooms.  Emileigh couldn't stop beaming.  Neither could I.  What an amazing day!  And we had 7 more to go!

The beautiful ring...

rEVOLution

It's the 3rd anniversary of the Egypt Revolution today.  In other words, it's a "political snow day" for us.  That means that we stay close to our home, don't venture out too far or wear our Old Navy 4th of July t-shirts in public.

The news has reported some grim happenings in Cairo, but we have no immediate issues where we are (much further south). Still we continue to pray for the whole country knowing that most of the population wants to move forward, have opportunities to progress and take care of their families.

Our landlord's extended family is here visiting while the elementary aged children have a break from classes.  They are an animated crew that take over the whole property by sheer number and volume of laughter.  

I noticed that one of the relatives would be considered a fundamentalist by the way he dresses and his  refusal to shake my hand (or the hand of any other female outside his family).  I admit that I immediately go into "suspicious mode" when he's around.  I begin to whisper more, watch his movements and totally go into my Jack Bauer Defcon 4 Level…Okay, maybe not that much, but still…

John, however, sees the glass "half full."  "Ooooo," he says, "He's devout?!  Me, too!  Bring it on!"

Yeah, he's pretty much a magnet for these guys.  He engages with them, discusses life and prays that their devotion would be turned like Paul/Saul.  Good prayer.

I bake my way into their hearts by tantalizing the women with American brownies that they say are made with "so much love."  It's actually lots of sugar and oil, but who am I to argue?

My newly decorated table made from imported
French Christmas wrap…

Valentine's Day is approaching and I'm in my creative laboratory preparing a party for my village friends.  This should be a corker.  I'm trying to find out all social norms so that I can do this right. My hope is that as I create my own rEVOLution of sorts…that only the "backwards" philosophy of Jesus would remain…replacing the first with the last, despair with hope and hate with love.

May this anniversary mark the beginning of a true revolution in many hearts across this land.

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Today's BOGO Blog:  NEW

I purchased handblown glasses ($1 each) and
wrapped with berry vines.

Then I placed battery-operated mini LED lights
 inside for a warm glow!  Waaaa-lah!

Substitutions

The current Healthy Lifestyle Bandwagon we've jumped on requires a load of planning and a plethora of odd ingredients.  If Hy-Vee or Kroger were around the corner this would be absolutely no issue at all.  Sadly, that is not the case here in our little neck o' the desert.

The recipe today called for the following items:

chicken
apples
balsamic vinegar
fresh thyme
scallions
salt
pepper

I managed to track down the chicken, apples, salt and pepper.  The rest were coming "bokra inshallah" ("tomorrow if God wills it") as they like to say around here.  It's to be assumed that "bokra" never comes and they are simply trying to let you down easy rather than saying, "No way.  No how."

I put the chicken in the pan as directed and then began looking through my cupboards to see what might work as an adequate substitute for fresh thyme.  I found rosemary and decided to sprinkle that on top of the chicken.  Next I placed sliced apples.  Check.  Then I moved onto a replacement for scallions.  These mutant-sized green onions I found at the Veggie Guy would have to do.  I thought I had balsamic vinegar but it turned out to be soy sauce, so you guessed it…the soy sauce came next.

My general rule of thumb is if it has more than 3 ingredient substitutions it stops being the original recipe and becomes something else.  This was definitely something else.

I placed it in the oven on low and went to our neighbors to visit.  When I returned, the apartment was filled with a quasi-Asian Silver Dollar City smell.  John (ever the encourager) said, "I'm sure it will be great."  Well, it's what we've got, so it will have to work.

I pulled it out of the oven and dished it out into the indicated portions.  First, it looked awfully small on that big ol' plate and second it was all sort of brownish without any real cookbook photo appeal.

We thanked the Lord for the food before us (an act of faith actually) and tried a bite.  John grunted in approval, but added no adjectives.  I knew what that meant.  The old adage, "If you can't say something nice…"

I took a bite too and tried to talk myself into liking it.  It's not too bad, I said.  Well, not terrible.  I suppose this could be part of the diet psychology…meaning if you put enough bad combos together then you won't even recognize good (otherwise known as fattening) food when it's put in front of you.  You'll simply push it away not wanting to risk another tastebud debacle.

One side note:  Currently it's my turn to take something delectable to my landlord's family.  I have their plate.  I've been waiting to make a "hit" and then share it with them…however, the last couple attempts would not give American cuisine a good name.  I simply can't in good conscience hand over something to them that tastes bad and let them think this is our country's food.  It wouldn't be good foreign relations.  You're welcome.

The Blue Algae Diet

The bells of St. Mary began to play somewhere in the recesses of my mind.  "I had better get to church," I thought.  "Wait.  I'm not Catholic."  The cobwebs began to clear from my brain when I realized that my alarm was going off.  Ug. 6:15 am.

Yes, for me that is still pretty much the middle of the night.  I have always leaned more toward my mother's most productive hours which are later morning (NOT 6:15 am) and later evening (after 9 pm).  Still, the world insists on getting an early start, so I too must comply.

"Get up, Pam," I said to myself.
"5 more minutes," I pleaded.
"You aren't to be trusted.  It's never 5 minutes."
"It will be this time, I promise."
"Tell THAT to your thighs."
I winced.

You see, today was (once again) the start of a new and improved healthy lifestyle for me.  I will be slimming my way down to a MOB (Mother of the Bride) dress in no time.  After all, pictures are forever. And now that they are digital, that has never been more true.* (Check the factoid below.)

Earlier last week I had made myself a chart which documented every minute of my day so that I could truly make every moment count.  "Fail to plan.  Plan to fail." I think a general somewhere sometime said that.  I've adopted that motto and have chosen to spring into action.  Thus, the 6:15 am alarm.

I got out of bed and shuffled toward the clothes I had laid out the night before.  (That way I can move about the room simply by feel therefore giving myself 2 more minutes with my eyes closed.)  I gathered them up and went to the bathroom.

Soon after I returned, John followed by getting dressed and preparing for the brisk walk.  This is where I should insert what a good guy he is.  In our location, it's not wise to travel alone for pretty much any reason.  Since I don't have a "walking buddy" he inadvertently volunteered when he cheered my efforts.  

We began walking out of the village and soon noticed that no one in the village is an early riser with the exception of the imam and a faithful few who rise to go to prayer at the mosque at 4:30 am.

As we walked along the main road, I chuckled to myself remembering a few of my previous attempts at dieting.

There was the:  

-Aerobics after work, but eat a brownie in between with my friend at the drive thru 
-Deal-a-Meal (No, I don't want to talk about it.)
-Stop the Insanity (No, I never liked her hair.)
-And the now infamous "Blue Algae Diet"

The last one seemed the most far-fetched, but also the most scientific.  I have a few dear friends that have witnessed several of these phases throughout the years.  One friend in particular is the picture of discipline.  She's everything I'm not.  She not only eats right, but she likes it.  She even runs, for fun! Yeah, I should have known there was something seriously wrong with us being friends.  

Knowing that she has a wealth of carrot stick information, I told her (and a couple others) of my plan to begin the Blue Algae Diet.  She suppressed a grin and asked what it was.  "Oooooh, it's very scientific.  Apparently there's this algae that when eaten by the fish keeps them very lean." (Even typing this I understand the utter ridiculousness of this statement, but I had just watched a 30-minute informercial and was extremely motivated.)  "They have now collected this blue algae and put it into a powder form.  When mixed with other toxin cleansers, it becomes the perfect weight loss cocktail!"

My friends all looked at each other and said, "When do you start?"

I, of course, said, Monday because all diets start on Monday unless it's the middle of the month in which you have to wait to the beginning of the month and hope that the first and Monday all hit at the same time or it's just too confusing to start.

Two weeks later, I sat with the same group of ladies and they asked about my progress.  I sheepishly looked back at them.

"How many days did you last?" they asked.

"One," I muttered.

"One day?"

"No, one meal.  I hated the stuff.  I mean seriously who eats blue algae?! No wonder the fish are thin.  I took one drink of the concoction and almost threw up!"

They didn't just laugh.  They guffawed.  Tears streamed down their faces.  They'd compose themselves and start again.  I joined in.  It was pathetically hilarious.

I snapped back to attention when I realized my calves were burning with a thousand fires.  "Uh, we forget to stretch out," I moaned to John.

"Stretching's for wimps," he quipped and picked up the pace.

"What a brute," I mumbled.

He laughed.  

We arrived back at the house and I promptly walked to my chart and drew a smiley face.  Day One COMPLETE.  I smiled at John and said, "When I get 10 smiley faces, I get a prize."

"What prize?"

"I suppose a Mini-Cooper would be over the top?"

"For your new mini form, I suppose?"

"Now you're trackin'…"

He laughed and said, "Let see how tomorrow goes…"

He knows me well.

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*Factoid:  In ancient times, Alexandria, Egypt had the world's most renown library collection.  Sadly, it burned but Egyptians chose to rebuild a modern library in its place.  We had opportunity to visit there.  The building is nice, but one room is of particular interest.  In the space are hundreds of computer servers that are cataloging and archiving every single page on the world wide web each week.  Not sure if this were true, we typed in one of our old business sites from the late nineties.  Sure enough, there it was.  Just imagine if my MOB pictures are catalogued for all eternity waiting to be viewed by generations of some carrot-eating stick girls?!

The Library in Alexandria, Egypt

Mosque Karaoke

Upper Egypt children, stock photo

Our day began yesterday typically enough with the call to prayer which happens in the wee hours of the morning.  On a "good" day, the imam will start with a short "get up and go to mosque" call, then go quiet for a bit before the official "now you should be at mosque and can begin praying" call.

It was all pretty much the same EXCEPT the guy didn't stop.  Not at all.  All morning, he kept the PA system on first with the call to prayer, then with some verses from the Q'ran then a full-blown sermon.  About the third hour into it, I looked at John and said, "What is the deal today?"

He shook his head.  We couldn't figure out why or how we ordered the "extended play" package.  Our neighbors called us asking the same thing.  We thought that maybe it had something to do with the response to the constitution vote which had taken place this week.

Hours 4 and 5 went by, the imam still going strong except now two additional mosques joined in.  Finally, yet another neighbor informed us that Thursday was "Children's Day" in which all the children celebrate Mohammad's birthday.  They receive sweets and have a parade.  The imam also dedicates extra time to sermonizing.

Our neighbor wanted us to know so that we wouldn't think that there was an uprising taking place or a protest when the parade started because quite frankly you can't always tell the difference.

Hours 6, 7 and 8 included pre-recorded sermons as well as a few children who also had opportunity to broadcast on the "big mic."

There are no noise laws here and they wouldn't apply in this situation anyway because this is a legitimate service to the community (as we understand it).

Hours 9, 10 and 11 were trying my patience.  I began plotting that maybe the imam would get laryngitis or perhaps John could use his special studio skills and secretly cut the all-important speaker wires.  I stared off into the distance, diet Coke in hand and smiled at my cunning.

Hour 12 arrived and I had had it. I truly felt like this was some sort of psychological warfare and I was preparing to yell out my window, "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT TO KNOW! JUST SHUT OFF THE SPEAKERS, I BEG YOU!"

I was almost to a full blown combustion when Jesus ever-so gently said, "Are you as determined to proclaim Me?"

I almost felt physically knocked back in my seat.  Mute.  Stunned.

Not long after, I heard the beginnings of the parade as forewarned.  Drums were beaten, horns were blown and children yelled while they walked through the village announcing the birth of their prophet.

Lord, forgive me.  I'm a selfish lot that thinks praying for an hour somehow earns me a merit badge and a special corner of Your heart.  

These sincere, wonderful people are doing all they know to win God's favor never quite sure if it will eventually tip the scale their way.

I listened to the noise fade and I bowed my head asking Jesus to use me to make Him known whether by word, deed or even 12-hour karaoke.