Dear Reader, dear Reader, there’s a hole in my road, dear Reader a Hole! I jest not. Such frivolities are not necessary here in Maadi where the feel of ‘what?!’ is the norm! No warnings, no signs to indicate what is being constructed... but all of sudden, one morning I wake and I find that a ditch is being dug at the end of the road! The following morning this soon turns into a large semicircular ditch and traffic is cordoned off with these bright blue screens. This certainly helps the flow of traffic outside the apartment but it does mean I need to walk around the ditch to get to the taxi in the morning, adding precious time to my ‘late again’ morning starts!
Thursday afternoon, I returned from work to have a pneumatic drill pummelling away digging up the tarmac on the road! This fortunately stops at sun down which is about 5.30pm at the moment. However, 8 o’clock the following morning as I am trying to enjoy my Friday morning lie in, the blasted thing is off again! There are four men circling the driller who has no protective gear (none of them do!), some watching, some collecting the drilled up tarmac and throwing it some distance away. Today, it looks like some peculiar corn circle without any corn in sight. We anticipate pipes may be laid, which could well mean our water supply buggered up in the very near future. Will these joys never cease? This noisy pleasure was heightened as we had our late breakfast yesterday with the freight train blasting it’s whistles and bells and then the tinny Mullah’s epistle which followed. So much for a quite morning! I made myself numerous cups of teas wondering, why don’t I just hit the Gin!? At times, I cannot but feel ‘someone’s got it in for me’!
Remember my wonderful taxi driver/Arabic teacher? Well, last Sunday, after I had sung his praises, he did not show up! I had a feeling something was amiss when I looked out of the living room windows and did not see him washing his prized vehicle. I call Mohammed Ali who tried to reach him but to no avail. After ten minutes of panic, I jumped into a random taxi and prayed the driver was not illiterate as I showed him my school address in Arabic! The chap was cheerful and literate and got me to work....Thank Allah for that small mercy. I have a theory that the folk here are generally and consistently religious because they really need to be. There do not live in a place where they can depend on much so when things go right, Allah is praised and thanked. It is very much a part of their everyday language and something I am beginning to appreciate.
Whilst many worship God, there are also those who worship Mammon.... There was a school event a few weeks ago at a venue in the desert..somewhere. We went at night, so I could not now for love or money tell you where this place is. All I know is that it took us nearly an hour to get to this school built in the desert somewhere. Our vehicle was a fabulous Limousine like people carrier! We travelled in style, even if we had to cross a ditch to get onto the right road at some point. The school looked like some hotel in Dubai. Apparently teachers were consulted as to the style wanted, but all was ignored as the ‘Egyptian benefactor’ had his own visions of vulgar grandeur. There was local wine served and fabulous canapés. Not having had anything to eat prior to the soiree, I indulged and was invited to circulate by a wonderful gregarious Australian. This proved fruitful as I met a wonderful colleague at a partner school who then invited me to a Felluca ride...a life long fantasy came true as I glided down the Nile on the vessel gently chatting to the company on board. Slowly and regally, the sun set and a sense of blissful calm descended. There is something magical about being on an ancient river in a boat the likes of which had sailed at the times of the Pharoahs.
Domestic life in the meantime stumbles along. There are now daily power cuts in the middle of the night which disrupts sleep; a major cupboard door has collapsed in the kitchen; odd bits of brick work has come off the wall outside the front door and the sloping cooker causes husband much stress! BUT, it’s our home! We can enjoy meals watching downloaded UK faves and look out of the windows to see the Cairo blue sky...il hamdu lillaah( thanks be to God)...
Slow Slow Quick Quick Slow.... Hesham reminds me on my weekly dance classes...The stately elegant Foxtrot is the ‘slow’ dance I am working on. My concentration at times baffles him as he tells me to ‘let the feet do the thinking’! He has worked out I am stressed when my fingers start typing on his palm! Apparently, that is when he knows I am no longer letting my feet do the work!!! The classes are now much more demanding as he works on refining technique and posture. The business of controlling my ‘core’ perplexes me as I am convinced I do not have one. And having to breathe as one concentrates! That is a chore! However, when the turns are smooth and I am being taken across the floor to the tune of ‘Fly me to the Moon’, nothing else matters...There is music in my soul, dance in my feet and..the hole in my Road...Quick Quick Slow...
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