An Afternoon in the Country

by Julia Barricelli (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Egypt

The sound of a hundred mosques echoed through the pre-dawn. I awoke for the first time to the wailing chant of the adhan, I got up and stood on the balcony. I could just make out the spires rising over the lush tree-lined streets of the affluent Maadi suburb of Cairo. As I looked out over the compound with its palm trees and manicured lawns, I waved to the armed guards who stared at me from the neighbours front door. It was the Kenyan ambassadors residence. They waved back, smiling. After a leisurely breakfast of fresh fruits and strong coffee in the garden, my friend and gracious host laid out the plan for the day. There was a country club where we could take ATV's out into the dessert. While always up for an adventure, this was outside my usual preference for keeping my feet on the ground at a walking pace but I went along. Frankly, this was all outside my usual. I by no means came from a well off or even middle class family and so the luxury of my current surroundings was almost as foreign as the language and culture. There were four of us in the car; myself, my host, and a couple who we were friends with. It was a longer drive than I anticipated, probably due to the eternal traffic of Cairo's roadways due in no small part to the conspicuous lack of traffic lights. As we weaved through the city, first leaving the quiet suburban streets and trading them for seven lane highway where jostling trucks and cars bare battle scars from their daily commute. From the overpass, the Cairo skylines of half finished and often illegally constructed buildings stand as modern monuments to decades of economic hardship. As we continued out of the city the, the high-rises and highway gave way to to low lying villages along a muddy, shallow distributary of the Nile river. The villages were no more than bits of corrugated metal and wood which stood out of force of habit. One of the inhabitants sat on a plastic bucket outside selling dishevelled cabbages while their mule made the most of the fallen leaves. Children played between the refuse on the banks while their mothers looked on though the slits in their niqabs while others stood at their doors sweeping the dust and sand back out onto the street from where it came. As I looked on from the plush leather seat of the Audi we were driving in, I became acutely conscious of the wealth disparity between us. We were separated by far more than the glass of the window. The abject poverty of the villagers was my first experience of being in a developing country and no amount of pre-warning or research could prepare me for what I'd seen. I felt suddenly queasy and couldn't tell if it was from the potholes on the road or the sudden weight of my own unrealised privilege. Finally we reached the grounds of the country club, a green oasis of wealth. A mere few minutes later, we were handed the keys to our ATV's and set out as a group with a guide from the club. As we zipped over the sand dunes of the Al Giza dessert, the sand whipped the thoughts of the journey from my mind. We raced up and down the dunes passing in the distance, the Saqqara Necropolis and Pyramid of Djedkare. The ancient past meeting the fleeting present. By the end of the day we were covered in dust with sand having found its way into every orifice and fiber of clothing. Our merry little group sat in the shade of a large palm, chatting about who was the better rider and what we wanted for dinner. My earlier despair from seeing the extreme poverty of a third of Egypt's population had drifted from my mind like a mirage with the promise of a good meal and a shower at the end of our journey back to Maadi. My newly realised privilege was checked into the car. I was assured not to worry about the laundry, the maid would take care of it.