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| View of the corniche from the felucca |
I had just finished mopping up the semi-flood in our living room for the second time when I told John, "This is not how I planned to celebrate our first Eid here." He was down on his hands and knees with towels trying to soak up what my mop wouldn't. "Agreed," he said.
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| Party Barge |
Yesterday, we had prepared to go into town to purchase some groceries, look at some more housewares, visit a new friend and take a ride on a felucca. That was the plan. Sigh.
Our friend and taxi driver, Sadik,* called and told us that we'd have to change our start time for everything until 3 pm because that was when the grocery store would open. No problem. He met us at our flat and just as we were exiting our gate we heard someone crying. We looked around and discovered a little boy who had tried to jump from a stopped truck but got his leg stuck in some sort of grate that was attached. The other two boys with him were startled by our appearance and took off without him. He hung sideways looking for help.
John reached over and gently put him upright, setting him free. He stared up at John and took off running. I guess both legs were working.
We got in the car and headed toward the grocery store. Little by little I'm learning what's available here…Today's search included salt, pepper, vanilla and cinnamon. After some extended asking and searching, we located all of them. (This is a miraculous moment.)
Sadik had come into the store to make sure we were being charged the appropriate amount and helped us carry our bags out. We asked him to run us by the flat so that we could drop the groceries off. 110 degrees is not forgiving for dairy products. We ran the stuff in and then returned to the taxi to go see a doctor who had heard that there were new foreigners in town and extended an invite for us to come meet.
Enroute John called and found out that the doctor wasn't in yet. Okay. Go with the flow. John had met a man yesterday named Seef* who invited us "to come enjoy felucca and all things beautiful." John had told him that yesterday wasn't a good day, but that tomorrow would be. In this part of the world "bokra inshallah" usually is a nice way of saying "not gonna happen," but John actually meant it. He's like that.
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| John and Seef |
John greeted him and Seef kissed him on both sides of his face. He began walking and leading us toward his felucca (a boat operated by sail). We walked to the dock and were greeted by two more men who directed us to sit on a boat. "Nice boat," I thought. I was getting ready to settle in when I discovered that this was the "waiting boat." Seef's boat was the teeny, tiny felucca blocked in by 4 other boats and I am not kidding it's name: "Life's Journey."
I looked at John and said, "You have a real gift for picking choice transportation." He laughed.
We waited about 15 minutes while Seef pushed and pulled the boats out of the way until we were ready to load. This seriously was the smallest felucca I had ever seen. We got in and Seef hoisted the sail. We were off!
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| Working hard... |
The wind had been blowing steadily earlier in the morning and had continued through the afternoon, but it still seemed as though Seef were having to work quiet hard to get us out into the middle of the water.
Other motorized boats whizzed by full of Eid partiers playing Arabic pop music and dancing on the roofs of the boats. We puttered by in the wake of their waves hoping we wouldn't capsize.
John began talking with Seef and discovered that he's Nubian, has a little boy and girl, and that he lives on an island close by.
The afternoon sun was strong so I shifted to the other side of the boat to be in the shade. Seef asked me to return to my seat. Apparently, I had unknowingly become a ballast.
We told him about an hour's ride, but that is never observed unless enforced. (The longer the ride, the more the bill.) We were about 45 minutes in and my skin was red, my bladder full. I had enjoyed the wind, the waves, but I was done.
He pulled the sail in for what I thought would be our return to dock. Instead he went to a little cubby that held a well-used envelope. He pulled out a stack of photos and handed them to John. They were all of Seef in different poses. Odd, but we oooo'd and aaaaah'd at them. Deeper in the stack, we began to see other foreigners. He told us about each of them. Still unsure of the purpose, we asked questions and thanked him for showing us.
He returned to the cubby and pulled another bag out. "Here it comes," I muttered.
He had a pile of necklaces that he wanted to show me. First, he handed me a necklace and told me "This is a gift for you." Then he placed a sky blue necklace with an Egyptian scarab on John. I couldn't help but laugh. The only jewelry John ever wears is his wedding ring. Ever. Now he's in the boat with a lovely decoration about his neck that Seef assures him looks good.
The others he told me were for sale. I began looking through them. I do love to collect beads and thought perhaps there would be something interesting. I chose a couple of them and the haggling began. A captive informercial. I was fearful that if I bid too low we'd never see shore again. John rolled his eyes at me because of my dramatic "24" scenarios that sometimes run through my head.
We came to an agreement and the sail still didn't return. He asked us if we would like to go to drink tea at a restaurant. Not today. How about a garden? No, thank you.
I finally told Seef that we needed to return to shore. He relented but continued to ask about future trips all the way to shore. I can't blame him. We were the only foreigners we saw that entire day. Normally there would be thousands of tourists, but today there were 2 potential sales. So sad.
John paid him after we disembarked.
I have to admit I was really, really finished by now. We walked to up to the main road and looked at our watch. The doctor still hadn't returned. I was hot, feeling lonely after seeing all the families together and just wanted to go back to our flat. I stood waiting for John to hail a taxi, but instead he began walking.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Home," he said.
"We're walking?!"
"Yeah, we're close. Is that all right?"
What am I going to say, No, I don't want to exercise. These past months of stress eating have actually benefitted me. "Okay, let's go."
He really didn't know what was going on in my brain and I didn't either. I just knew that I felt terribly out of place, out of sync, out of patience.
We kept walking passing large groups of young men who were dressed in their finest clothes that they had received for Eid. Some made comments to us such as, "Welcome!" and "What do you think Obama?"
John greeted them and I diverted my eyes as it is improper to look them in the eye or address them as a woman.
We returned to the flat thoroughly soaked in sweat. I looked in the mirror and my face was purple. No joke. Purple.
John immediately poured us some water, got our Frog Toggs soaked in cold water and we sat down to cool off.
At least, I could present the long anticipated cookies and gifts to our landlord's family and our neighbors later in the evening.
But it was not to be. Everyone had packed up and gone somewhere for the weekend. I sat with cookies, gifts and an empty building. Sigh.
I made dinner and we watched a movie. As the sun began to set, John got up to pull the curtains. It was then that he stepped in a big puddle of water in our living room. "What?!" he said.
Our air cooler hose had sprung a leak. It was exactly one week old.
He went to work repairing the hose and I got the mop. We got everything cleaned up and went back to finishing up some work we were doing. When John went to check on the hose, he discovered yet another leak, another puddle…more mopping.
I really thought I would self-combust at this moment. I had had it. I could not take one more thing. I could feel the tears welling…
Jesus whispered, "My grace is enough for you."
Is it? Suddenly, I pictured that little boy that John had helped earlier in the day. I felt just like him…caught, stuck, crying…needing help. Jesus gently picks me up, sets me upright and releases me…from fear, from hurt, from the unknown.
No, this Eid will be like no other, but it will certainly be one that we remember and maybe even laugh about in years to come. Maybe...
* Not their real names
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| Pre-purple stage... |
Today's BOGO Blog: Loads of Trouble
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