An Englishwoman's experience of the Egyptians

They are a complicated people.

They can seem an angry and scary people. They look grim as they go about their daily business and, to the English ear, they always sound as though they are arguing and trading insults, especially since they look so dour as well.

Watching them in the traffic, haggling over prices in the shops, even ordering a meal in a restaurant reinforces this impression. One day my friend called me into her bedroom to watch an argument going on in the street below. Some sort of small traffic matter but there was lots of gesticulating going on and I thought they would come to blows. With great glee my friend advised me they were insulting each other's mother's vaginas! They can be very inventive with their insults.

On the other hand, one day found a car blocking traffic from four directions because a kitten had got stuck somewhere underneath the bonnet of the car. The occupants of four cars, including us, were all huddled round the front using the lights from mobile phones, torches or simply down on hands and knees under the vehicle, looking for this poor kitten. Eventually the kitten got bored of this game and shot out and away. Everyone congratulated each other and went happily on their way.

Then there's the matter of modesty. The first time I visited Egypt, almost 30 years ago, I was advised not to look men in the eye, it was immodest. Even today, women have a way of looking, but not looking, at men; more a case of...in their general direction but through them. It's not bad manners, it's modesty. Men will avoid looking at women in the eyes out of respect and to avoid giving offence. Because of this, everyone seems to walk around in their own little world until actually spoken to.

It can be very off-putting to the western female. Where I live, people look each other in the eye, we laugh and joke as we go about our business, talk in queues, don't worry whether we're talking to men or women, just people. Well, more or less...a little flirting makes the world go round and mostly we can tell when it's general friendly interaction or something else.

In the airports it was mostly men until body-searching was needed and women took over. Men would solemnly go about their business and not look you in the eye until something out of the ordinary happened, like when I went the wrong way and looked to be missing out the security machines. I'd be politely directed the right way and when I gave a broad smile and a 'sorry' they couldn't seem to help themselves and respond with a reasuring smile and be very helpful. In other words...'she's English, she can't help it'. Certain allowances would be made without stepping over the line between friendliness and informality.

For my part I tried very hard to fit in, apart from not looking people in the eye I wore trousers, long sleeves and nothing even slightly see-through or with low necklines. Not that I wear outrageous clothing at the best of times but I covered up more than usual for me. I was very hot from time to time but persevered. I wasn't about to wear a headscarf or a veil but the Egyptians are a reasonable people and it was obvious I was making an effort and I felt it was appreciated and accepted.

I heard that some of the passengers on cruise ships into Alexandria have a different outlook. In a way it's understandable because they are in a western environment on board and I suppose the shore excursions seem more like entertainment laid on especially for them rather than a visit to a different culture. The Egyptians view it rather differently. I'm told they are nice and polite because they want the visitors to feel welcome but they are in fact insulted by the inconsiderate expanse of flesh on view.

The long and the short of it, I tried to fit in and they responded by making me very very, very welcome.

I've met my friend's Egyptian husband only half a dozen times over the last 25-30 years and he has been unfailing kind and friendly. His English is rusty and my Arabic is non-existant other than a few words but we communicated well enough. For instance, I'd come into the livng room and sit down with a coffee, or a snack, or a book and he'd give me a mock glower, I'd grin and shrug back at him and he'd smile or laugh at me. Little things. I'd be sitting reading and he'd hand me an orange, and we'd sit watching the TV companionably eating our fruit, or, in the village, he came in with a section of sugar cane from the orchard and taught me how to eat it - carefully with due consideration for teeth! Not a demonstrative man but able to make me feel at home with the little things.

My friend has a lady who comes in to clean, iron, cook and so on. She doesn't have a single word of English but we communicated well enough through smiles and gestures. I was delighted when she handed me a bowl of beans and asked me to help prepare them. I sat and worked on them, happily listening to music and feeling a part of the household. Again, a little thing but one that made me feel good and at home. (Loved her cooking too!)

While in Cairo we visited a cousins and spent a some hours in their home. Afterwards I was told the husband, who spoke English, hoped I wasn't offended by his not having a chance to speak to me in English but he hadn't wanted to bombard me with questions - again, an example of the consideration and sensitivity of the Egyptian people. Sadly, when he came to visit in the village, over the festival, I was out walking with my friend and I missed him. I would have like to tell him I wasn't offended at all and in fact am more than happy sitting, listening and watching even when I can't understand what's being said. People-watching is a favourite occupation of mine.

In the village, people were both more natural and more formal, it's hard to explain. The kids in adult company were shy but not afraid to stare (the kids outside with their peers were the same as kids everywhere with their peers - brash, noisy, inquisitive and competitive), the teenagers and young adults were eager to please but uncomfortable looking at you. The adults were invariably welcoming. Usually they didn't seem to know how to deal with me but the language barrier caused most of that.

One little girl, looking fine in her festival best of shiny hair grips and jumper with a butterfly of the front, couldn't understand that I didn't speak Arabic and simply carried on speaking to me as usual; I shared some of my mandarine with her. Two young male cousins couldn't seem to look at me directly but one of them would rush forward to relieve me of anything that needed carrying. I felt a special affinity for one young lady who seemed to take me under her wing from the moment I arrived. I was witness to the ritual slaughters and she made sure I had good views and so on. One evening we had a visit from my friend's sister-in-law and four children. A son, who is due to do into the army and three daughters who are all in good jobs. All four have been through university and are well-educated and speak English, to varying degrees. It was a wonderful time filled with laughter. Although the mother-in-law didn't speak English and I didn't speak Arabic, the others translated as needed so the conversation flowed and no-one felt left out.

By the way, watching the ritual slaughters wasn't as gruesome as you might think. As I mentioned in a previous post, the animals were well looked after in life and they were slaughtered in the most humane way possible. Yes, there was an air of celebration but not...I don't have the words...not, nasty. It originates with a part of the Koran where Abraham was ready to sacrifice his son to God but God allowed him to replace his son with an animal. The animals slaughtered during the Hajj festival don't go to feed the owners. Oh, a joint might be kept but the rest goes to the poor. The animals are slaughtered, butchered on the spot and the meat is separated into parcels and sent immediately to poor families. I watched as the meat parcels were handed to the young members of the family who were sent off with directions to the families who were to receive the food.

In short, I have a great respect for the Egyptian people and am extremely grateful to all of those who made my trip so special. Including and especially my friend and her family who, frankly, are my family at heart.

Creating good memories

Life is good!

Over the past few years our family has had 'interesting times' at Christmas. Variously a cancer diagnosis, fallout from a heart valve replacement, a broken neck etc, with one or the other of my parents in hospital just before the holidays, once even coming out of hospital unexpectedly - and thankfully - on Christmas Eve evening. This year we've broken the hospital tradition. Oh, we haven't escaped completely unscathed, my brother developed shingles in one eye a couple of days before Christmas - and he was the one taking over the Christmas cooking because I'm dangerous round a baking pan of goose fat and saucepans of boiling water because of neck, back and arm problems at the moment! He was an absolute Trojan though, producing a brilliant meal with all the trimmings despite feeling unwell himself. This time I played cook's assistant doing the washing-up and other drudgery as best possible, and heroically keeping my mouth shut (most of the time) when I thought he wasn't doing it right - in other words, the way I would do it!

I can't remember the last time I haven't spent most of Christmas Day in the kitchen. It was a real treat to be able to spend more time with the family, laughing, relaxing, concentrating on keeping the fire stoked and dressing the table. One of my great pleasures is dressing the table because one of my parents' and my grandmother's great pleasures is seeing a well-dressed table. This year I could take my time, I didn't forget anything; the Christmas tablecloth we've had for years, the candlesticks my brother and I bought for our parents many years ago with tall, dark red candles, the little stockings with a chocolate 'wish' in each place setting, the fine cut glass wine goblets that only come out on special occasions. And the tree! I could take my time decorating it, enjoying each bauble as it emerged from storage, showing it to my mother and remembering when we got each one before we put it on the tree; the ones I sent back from my Alaskan trip for my mother, the ones received as a present from a Scandinavian friend, the one my brother made out of the remains of a cracker one year over coffee after the Christmas lunch, the one mum and dad have had since they first got married coming up for sixty years ago. And the miniature tree crackers minus the one I insisted on pulling as a child many years ago because I wanted to see what was in it - I was convinced I was missing out on something and it was the only way mum could prove to me they were only decorations!

To make things easier this year we had decided not to buy lots of presents, we each contributed what we could afford to one present each. Mum got her hearing aids, my grandmother a worktop freezer, my brother a flat screen TV and I'll be getting a greenhouse when the weather sorts itself out enough to erect it. My dad got a subscription to HD TV channels (I think that's it, my brother sorted it because the rest of us are dunces in the world of technology) and time with his family because there was nothing else he wanted. And that was the key!

Yes, there were stockings filled with satsumas, nuts, chocolate Father Christmas, sugar mouse, new flannel, that sort of thing but not presents as such. The key was we were all together, spending time together, laughing together, reminiscing together. We were all doing things we knew the others would like, would give them pleasure and in doing so we were giving ourselves pleasure and making memories for ourselves for the future.

Yesterday we had friends round for a get-together and enjoyed being in the company of people we were comfortable with. Today, the day after Boxing Day, the house is quiet. My dad is sitting in front of the log fire content to look at the frost and snow outside from the comfortable depths of his armchair, mum's in her room taking a nap, my brother's taking some time for himself and I've time to do whatever I want. I'm feeling happy, contented and enjoying the gentle intimacy of family life.

So...life is good!

To everyone reading this blog, I hope you made good future memories for yourselves this Christmas and I wish you a happy New Year.