Friday, September 11, 2009

Super Woman

I am helpless without help. People do not recognize how much work it is not to go to work.
It takes countless jobs not to have an out of the house job.
One must master the art of cooking= chef!
One must master the art of cleaning= housekeeper!
One must master the art of keeping the interiors of the house looking good= interior designer.
If one has children, one must master the art of teaching= becoming a teacher to the children, setting an example every step of their way.
If one is married, or living with their loved one, one must master the art of courtship= i think we all know what that is.

I think it is no joke what a home maker does especially without help!

Contemplating

The few days left for me to experience ramadan here, i am clinging to. Although my weak body is suffering, although every time I get up I black out, although I could  feel my stomache stuck to my back and my body so light and easily breakable, I am enjoying my vulnerablity. I googled the biological benefits of fasting, it is really a detox and gives your liver time to rest from all the work it has to do when you drink or eat. Besides the spirtiual benefits, there are physical benefits to food deprivation. With  little fuel I experience lightness all over along with light headedness. I wasted most of my Ramadan abroad I could not fast there and I could not even feel it in the air. A big part of Ramadan is experiencing it with your family. It is so easy to forget about it abroad when everyone in the street chews on sandwiches in daylight. When work hours are not altered to meet the needs of the fasting being and the day goes like it does any other time of the year, it is so easy for one to totally block the fact that ramadan is slipping away and it is forgotten. 

What makes us who we are is our deep engrossed traditions, beliefs and things engraved in our core while growing up. If things are not carved in our being as children it may be very hard for us to scribble them on again. Where we are and who we are with have a huge impact on who we become. Everything stains us, everything leaves a mark, people shape us and places mold us.
It is very easy for us to slip away to blend in and to lose our essence while trying to fit in.
We change so much everyday we are not the same people we were last year, not even yesterday. So many things change nothing stays the same.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Back to the freak show

they are in their late and early twenties and they dress like late forties!
they greet you like they were sleeping with u last night and you pushed them off the bed.
Every time I am invited to a big gathering I forget what I learned last time. 

I have to remind my self:
1. Not to bend and kiss the seated girls because they do not even shift in their seat even to act like they attempt to rise just one bit. They do not even move their neck or eyebrows not even to fake a movement. I wondered if their eggs would hatch under their seats if they shifted parts of their buts.
2. Not to say hi with any excitement because everyone else is talking out of an ice cube.
3. Not to worry about what I will wear because anything I wear wont fit in with the common style.
4. Not  to try to make conversation because it is not allowed that people not from the same group talk. 
5. Not to start walking towards someone I know to say hi because they will think I am desperate.
It is hard to remember all of this. I realized it is a sick stuck up society, however a lot of times the hosts you love and you want to go and do the right thing. Me and my normal friends took a side and started laughing. Saying we get better hellos from our building porter and sometimes we want to hug him for that. 
I remembered California and how the stranger in the street said hello with more warmth than the ice cubes we meet here. My friend asked me if the problem was with us I told her for sure it is not, and I proved it with the people in the streets of California, Brazil and even in Cairo and that they could greet better.

Shortly we left, tired of the codes that we do not abide by. All the subtle rules of rigidness, heaviness, aloofness, and keeping a distance, things we find hard to apply. The worst part of living here is all the unneeded complexities that people create.

Next time I will remember that creme de la creme does not expect good greeting and will not reciprocate it. 

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Help!

It occured to me, I am a fifties house wife!
As I fold the laundry I wonder if my years in colledge were worth it.
Without help, a wife becomes the help. Atleast the help is paid, but you are not.
If a woman leaves herself to get sucked in house work her life can slip through her fingers and she can wake one day to realise 10 years have passed.
In many other countries life with no help is possible, in Egypt it is not.
I find it hard to sustain the professional realtion with the help.
It ends up turning into a friendship. Unfortunately they do not respect a friendly boss.
I realise something is wrong with me, I do not know how to act like a bossy madam.
Today at the interview the potential maid and her agent laughed when they saw me.
But you are too young they said, how old are you?
I told them I am not too young I am 24!
She said I can not call you madam because you are too young.
Suddenly I felt like I was the one who was trying to get the job, I was belittled and the power imediately went to them.
I am not good at the games that come with the egyptian madam and maid relationship.
The last helper who came here started out fine when I kept a proffessional gap as soon as I let down the wall of proffesionalism and began treating her like family, her frown arrised and pleasing her became an impossible goal of mine. 
I do not know why I always feel guilty about the idea of getting help I try to  make up for it by destroying the proffessional relationship with my friendly ways. I carry a weight of guilt on my shoulders as I find the help doing their job and I end up letting them go, because they turn my life into a hell with their endless needs and impossible requests.

I am still learning but what I know is: I need help!!

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

uncomfortable

The jet lag is a curse. Life with it is so hard. Breaking my fast out of my home is hard for me. I seriously need to lay down after my deprived stomache gets some food. I do need to put my legs up and it is not acceptable because guests should not get too comfortable.

Traffic is an energy drainer, all the shoulds and have to dos steal our days away from us. From Weddings, to Birthdays to Baby showers and more, by the time you attend everyone's event your left with a life of traffic jams and running around trying to make it to all these different places while leaving your dreams behind.

The only people who managed to go after there dreams here have given up on social obligations or have left the place.

We expect people to come to our events, we dread going, they dread coming, they end up going, we end up having to abide by the social norm and making these events that we are not up to, and in the end we all put smiles on and entertain each other, because we love each other but the truth is many of us would rather  stay in with those close to us and have our legs up and wear comfortable clothes. But we all end up going because we love our hosts, we all end up inviting because we love our guests. The question is: what percentage of people really enjoy the whole process? 

Monday, September 7, 2009

Change

Have you ever slept so hungry that you woke from dreaming of delicious food on your tongue making your mouth water?

Well that is how I woke in the middle of the night and ran to my fridge in excitement trying to make it before the fagr prayer marks the begining of my fast. It always gave me a thrill to catch the last sip of water before the call of prayer. 

It is my first time to experience ramadan out of my parents house, I never thought I would be the one buying the groceries and making the decision of which kind of soup will be the star of the meal. It is at those times like Ramadan when change really hits you. I look around me in my apartment and I ask my self  how did I get here and when did all of this happen? 

I visit my mom to where my only home was and suddenly I realize I have become a visitor and now I belong somewhere else. My parent's familiar faces suddenly become less familiar and my husband's face becomes as familiar as my own. I became an extention of him rather than them. I used to wait for him to come visit just last year and now they wait for me to come and there is always a time that I leave. 

I start seeing the beauty of our family's house I do not take it for granted anymore, I start appreciating all the details that my mom pays attention to. And I look at my sister and I can not beleive I am married like her, she was always the big girl and I was the baby, how come now we are both in similar boats?

I never thought I would really leave, and after one year it really hits me that I did. I look at him and wonder how come we got this far in so little time and now we are family? How am I living with a man? How come this house has no grown ups? Where are my sisters? As events happen you get cought up with all the things you need to do and all you think about is how much you can not wait to leave your parents house and live in the arms of the man of your dreams, and when you do, no matter how happy you are, you look back and remember that it was not so bad back home. You did not have to worry about a thing, you were a spoiled princess and you did not even enjoy it, because you did not know how much more you are supposed to be doing in the future. Running a house is not easy, I was introduced to things I did not know were part of life, when I was cought up in lala land.

Grocerries, laundry, dishes, paying money to so many people who show up on your door step and keeping track of so many mundane details, that you had no idea existed can be a surprise.
To all the girls still with their parents; enjoy the pampering while it lasts. To all our mothers: how do you do it so good and for all this time? I realise I still do not have kids and I am talking like that, I realize I do get help and I am talking like that, but food, clothes and making a house into a home can be a fulltime job.

Mother I am sorry I took all the things you did for granted, how did you manage to manage so gracefully and always looking so good? 
God Bless you mom, I never thought we would be visitors in each other's houses, I am sorry I always burdened you with my messy room.
God Bless you dad I never thought another man would make my dreams come true, I am sorry I go home with someone I love, who is not you.
I love you now more than ever, I miss being a part of you.


Sunday, September 6, 2009

Heal Serbia make it a better place!

If you want to know about a country's culture, attend a local wedding. We were invited to a Serbian wedding, to my surprise Serbia is in no way European. If Serbian traditions were children their ancestors would be a mix of Greek, Turkish and Russian. Before the ceremony the grooms' friends meet with the groom. So does the bride's friends, they too meet up at a different place, to meet and greet I guess and start the day in the right mood. At two p.m. we were schedualed  to meet at a beautiful cozy courtyard for early drinks and three musicians set the mood for the day. In broad daylight unlike Egyptian traditions the event starts. We were expected to meet at two p.m. Mingle and get warmed up for apparently a full day of celebration.
While an Egyptian bride would be taking a siesta, resting or getting a massage, a Serbian bride would be already in her dress with hair and make up on.
   We  went to an ancient church filled with iconography and paintings of Jesus and all the saints covered the wall and ceilings. I love churches, I love all houses of God. In this Wedding, in this church; we all stand up during the ceremony on both sides of the bride and groom. The holy bond is sealed as the priest recites long passages from the Bible and an invisible choir sings as chorus in angelic high notes, soprano I guess. They sing from a high hidden balcony that only shows a fence and the back of the mistro. They have a lot of different traditions, very different from the Catholic wedding I attended before. The priest covers the holding hands of the bride and groom with a white hankerchief like we do in a muslim marriage and asks the blushing bride questions and she answers with a soft modest voice, and then he goes on to ask the groom other questions and he answers in shyness and joy. The church is filled with scents, exactly like those we put in our mosques and homes back home. It was strangely familiar, I figured this must be the Turkish influence. They both drink honey as a symbol of a hopefully sweet life. and then they walk around, three times to symbolise a life of longevity and happiness. They then kiss and everyone sighs. 
It was interesting how the father does not walk the bride to the groom and how the famous here comes the bride music does not play. People now were heading to the wedding reception or party. On our way out we were harrassed by gypsies wearing rags and looking like dangerous pirates, young kids and old women begging infront of the church just like they do back home in Egypt infront of mosques, but here they even kneel to the ground. It seemed so familiar yet scary how the toothless middle aged woman spoke in her deep voice. She was demanding and she would not take no for an answer, I do not speak Serbian but I'm pretty sure it meant give me some cash. I could hardly walk in my heels and she was not making it easy, however in my dress I did look like I had money, what she did not know was that in my tiny bag I only had room for my lip gloss and phone to text my mom and sisters. She did not understand me when I tried to tell her that.
The bride and groom left in their cute classic red decorated car and off to the reception destination they led the way. We all followed in cabs especially those who came from abroad like us. Our names were printed on little cards and every name was assigned to a table number. I looked at the number of chairs in the place and realized Serbian Weddings are intimate compared to common Egyptian ones, where those you once said hello to would pout and carry grudges if they were not invited. It was an indoor white wedding and food was served from the very beggining, as tables were being filled with seated guests, something funny happened. One of our friends who came from abroad got a little too drunk and disrupted the event with an endless need for attention. 
She took control of the ceremony and photographer like she was the sister of the bride yet she was nothing close to that. I felt like we were in a Ben Stiller comedy as she dragged the photographer by the hand and asked him to shoot her with almost every single guest in the place. The whole place was looking, some were silently laughing, others were staring but no one knew what was going on and why this guest was behaving so. Apperantly her friends were used to this but the Serbians and the bride's family were in complete shock and wide eyes. She meant well her friends loved her but we were all worried about the brides reaction to the weird guest's behavior. Fortunately they managed to take her home and end the problem before it went out of hand.
Finally when all the guests were seated the bride and groom arrive and the whole room stands up to applaud their grand enterance. They eat sweet bread and dip it in honey I guess, and on to the first dance they swing and hug in love. The band was incredible two extremely talented young singers and musicians behind them, and they rocked the place all day long. The first love song described the place : "love is in the air" and it was. The seemingly shy crowd loosened up after a while of romantic songs and visits to the bar and in no time everyone was on their feet dancing and celebrating. 
When the Serbian music started playing the whole place held hands and started stomping their feet moving very fast in a big big circle of love and joy. It seemed very greek and very firm, the Serbian dance, yet very honorable and also soldier like. The hips and waist stay still as the legs stomp very hard very quickly in a specific count to the right and then to the left the whole circle starts moving the other direction at a specific count. They could go on for six songs straight, it was hard to keep up with them, they were singing from their hearts what seemed to be songs they grew up listening to. It was so clear to me how the power of the dance in the circle is universal and joyous. 
In Egyptian weddings too the guests gather in a huge circle and the bride and groom are in the middle and everyone claps and dances too. All the main things were common, they even had the video of childhood pictures which is also very common in Egyptian weddings. The maid of honor and the best man however play a vital role in a Serbian wedding. During the actual ceremony in the church they are supposed to stand behind the bride and groom holding a candle in each hand until the ceremony was over which was thirty minutes. They had to stand tall and still and they had to be comfortable with all the spot light, like it was their big day too. 
From two pm until two a.m we partied untill we could not feel our feet anymore. 
Many people sang beautiful songs to the bride and groom. Close friends and family gave little speeches including the bride and groom. It was very heartfelt and intimate. I did not know them well since they were my husbands friends living abroad, however after sharing the joyous day with them I felt like an old friend. We decided it was time to leave and we were heading back to the hotel with our amazing Brazilian friends. A perfect ending to this night was the music playing in the cab, it was Micheal Jackson. 
As I took the last look at the Serbian wounded buildings Micheal Jackson was singing my favorite song. Heal the world make it a better place for you and for me and the entire human race. There are people dying if you care enough for the living. The words were perfect in Serbia, the cab driver could speak little English but he understood Micheal Jackson's quest for peace. Our Brazilian friend was fascinated at the universal power of music. He said Micheal Jackson is gone but his music still plays. I could not agree more, the king's voice was keeping us company in Serbia, giving hope to a place tainted with war. It was the best way to end such a beautiful night.
We only had two hours to run to the airport and catch our flight back to Cairo.
 At the airport reality checks with me at the passport check. A young man sits behind the glass looks at my passport, looks to his right to his collegue and they both start laughing. I always knew I had limitations being an Egyptian, like needing a visa everywhere, but I never knew my passport was funny. He asked me for my sur name and I could feel my body burning with anger, I said Mohamed Hafez and again the man started laughing unconrollably as if I cracked a joke. They both spoke in Serbian again and continued laughing as he flipped through my passport with disrespect. With amusement he stamped it and let me go, and my husband thanked him, although I do not know for what. I wished I had the power to report the man, to call human rights, but I was afraid, I was scared, all I wanted was to leave this racist place.
I cried like a baby and it was more out of shock than self pity. I did not expect the world to still be like that. Serbia does feel like it is in another era, a time where racism was normal. Do not get me wrong there are many amazing people in Serbia however it is enough those people at the airport to make it a place I will avoid. I was sad not just for me, for humanity, for human beings to still be like that. I missed my counrty more and could not wait to be treated normally. I never thought I would experince racism for my name, I never thought I would get a glimpse of what history taught me about the Jews life in Germany, and what the African Americans went through in the states. It seemed like Hitler dropped some of his genes in the Serbian airport.

Still I did enjoy sharing the joy at the wedding and I did find it interesting to see a side of the world I did not know existed. The Muslims there should really move, it is so hard for them. 
I remembered Micheal Jackson's song and I prayed that God heals the world and makes it a better place for me and for you and for the entire human race. I once wished to see the world now I have to edit my wish I want to see just the kind world. Reality is unbearable and not everything is worth seeing.
I could have ignored all the negative, I could have done like my husband did, however I think selected focus is a blessing not an acquired trait. I wish I was built like that, like I did not notice so much, but I guess high perception gives you things to write about. Maybe it is ok to see things and feel things so you can pray for better things. 
May this world be healed, May it be a better place for everyone especially the children who will live in it. Thank God for talent, Thank God for kindness, Thank God for joy, Thank God for Music and the power it has to heal, Thank God for the art that Micheal Jackson left behind.

Heal the World Make it a better place.