Egypt's Ali G

Have a listen to...

EGYPT'S ALI G

My last radio story from Cairo (for now...) on PRI's "The World".

Ramadan Sweets

My favorite Ramadan sweets.

Right to Left: "the honey balls" and "the bird's nest".

Because God is generous, I've decided that the sweets are fat- free.

CAIRO STORY

EXT. BRIDGE OVER THE NILE - DAY

A black and white taxi sits in Cairo traffic on a bridge. It's hot and the STEAM rises from the stalling cars.

CUT TO:

Inside the taxi is THE GIRL, 22, pale, very anxious to get out of the Ramadan traffic. The TAXI DRIVER, 60, with thick accountant glasses, turns off his vehicle. There is a long silence, except it isn't silent because there is HONKING and motors REVING and the occasional GRUMBLE of a fasting stomach.

Finally there is movement. The taxi driver turns the taxi back on with a jolt and a RUMBLE and begins to move along the bridge.

The girl breathes a loud SIGH of relief.

CUT TO:

EXT. CAIRO STREET - DAY

The taxi is rumbling along, a little faster now, down a larger boulevard. The taxi turns at a break in the meridian.

CLOSE UP:

The girl looks out the window and has an expression of wonder on her face.

CUT TO:

Down the street in front of the cab it is FLOODED, full of water, a few feet deep. The water is brown and mysterious and it covers everything for a whole square (squarish) block.

The taxi drives through the water, making a large SPLASH as it goes.

THE GIRL

(in awe)

It's like Katrina!

The taxi driver turns from the front seat and looks at the girl quizzically.

THE GIRL

Ma'alesh, never mind.

CUT TO:

The taxi from behind, now on dry land, making water tracks as it drives.

I'll be Home for Ramadan

I'll be home for Ramadan
You can count on me
Please have dates and konafa
And a stomach that's empty
Eid al Fitr will find me
Where the fanoos beams
I'll be home for Ramadan
If only in my dreams

Eid el Fitr will find me
Where the fanoos beams
I'll be home for Ramadan
If only in my dreams
If only in my dreams

A song for Al-Megrahi, who may or may not be home for Ramadan. Ramadan begins this Friday...

Lake Woeallah Days

FICTION

It's been a quiet week in Lake Woeallah, Egypt, my hometown, out on the edge of Cairo.

It's been hot, but it's dry heat. That makes the pollution dry, which, according to the medical community of Lake Woeallah, is highly preferable to moist pollution.

The heat's been good for business at the Chatterbox Cafe and Hookah Bar. Yusef Junior has taken over the business from Yusef Senior and he's decided to add cold smoothies to the menu, which are very popular with the high school girls on summer vacation. The smoothies are bright pink and orange and purple and the girls like to accessorize their headscarves according to the color of their smoothies and then take photos of themselves sitting together to put on their Facebook pages. Yusef Junior has even made a Facebook page for the Chatterbox Cafe and Hookah Bar, which, of course, Yusef Senior doesn't approve of. But Yusef Junior is quite satisfied with the website and the smoothies and all the changes that have come this summer to his cafe. The website gets a few hits a week, which may not be a statistical achievement, but for Yusef it's good enough.

Meanwhile at Our Mosque of Perpetual Responsibility Heba Munir is preparing for Ramadan, which is just a week-and-a-half away. She's called for a coalition of other grandmothers who have decided that, in addition to fasting themselves, they are going to take on the responsibility of making sure that their grandchildren fast. Heba's daughter-in-law, Farida Munir, is less than thrilled with this idea. Her son, Hany Munir, is a very grumpy fourth grader and just the thought of his low blood sugar levels is enough to make Farida want to leave town. Which is exactly what she is going to do. Farida has given her mother-in-law full responsibility of Hany for the holy month of Ramadan. She is going to Alexandria to stay with her mother and she will only answer her cellphone if it's an emergency. 

Hany is annoyed with the situation. He contemplated a hunger strike but quickly realized that, given the circumstances, it wouldn't work very well. He's asking his friends for suggestions, hoping they’ll tell him to go with his mother to the sea, but they just remind him that if he goes to Alexandria, he would have to visit his maternal grandmother, and if he visits his grandmother he would have to speak French with her. Hany’s maternal grandmother refuses to speak Arabic: only French. When faced with the decision of fasting or speaking French, Hany's choice is clear.

So Hany has resigned himself to a month in his paternal grandmother's air conditioner-less apartment. His father will be there, probably smoking cigarettes late into the night and listening to classical Arabic music on the radio. Hany will be bored-- he'll probably be very hungry and very grumpy--but what can he do? A ten-year-old in Lake Woeallah doesn't have a lot of choices in life…but, then again, an adult in Lake Woeallah doesn't have a lot of choices, either.

That's the news from Lake Woeallah where the army is strong, the camels are good looking, and the pollution is above-average!

Fiction after my favorite radio man, Garrison Keillor, founder of  A Prairie Home Companion and author of Lake Wobegon Days. 

From Moon Beach

One weekend in May I went to Moon Beach on the Red Sea with a few women from my Egyptian yoga class. For a few hours, one of the women in the class put me in charge of her daughters.

They preceded to give me a show. They called it "High School Musical".

There was a lot of jumping...

And singing in fake microphones...

An all-around good time!

In Egypt, they don't really have an equivalent to the teenage/ twenty-something part-time "babysitter"-- the wealthy just have full-time nannies. However, given the chance, you can bet that I would drop everything to babysit these girls.

Sunset in Nasser City

A photo of my friend A. in Nasser City, a suburb of Cairo where Sadat was killed.

Alexandria Family

A family at the citadel of Alexandria.

Up on the Roof

Al-Tazy

In the Khan al-Khalily Market

On the Road to Giza

Camel Means Beautiful in Arabic

Camels on Mount Sinai

Sunrise at Mount Sinai

Photo-shoot on the Alexandria Corniche

Taxi Talk

It's taken nearly five months, but I've finally learned how to talk to taxi drivers in this city. I have learned how to both be polite and tough. Rather than leaving the cab confused, I leave the cab knowing that I have held my own. Below is a translation of a conversation I had with a cab driver yesterday evening.

Me: I'm going to the end of the next street.

Cabbie: Okay. {he waits a beat} Are you Lebanese? Welcome to Egypt!

Me: Thanks!

{Everyone here thinks I'm Lebanese, probably because I speak Arabic, yet I have pale skin. Sometimes I play along, other times I don't. This time I decided to play along.}

Cabbie: So, are you married?

{Every cabbie, no matter how old, how nice, how rich, how poor, asks this question.}

Me: No, I'm not married.

Cabbie: Why not?

Me: Because in America we wait until we're older to get married {I was blowing my cover but he didn't notice}. Everything in America is expensive so you need both the man and the woman to work, so you wait.

Cabbie: So will you marry a Lebanese?

Me: No. I will marry an American.

Cabbie: Why?

Me: Because American men understand the importance of equality between men and women. They understand fifty-fifty. They understand that both women and men need to work, and take care of the kids. In the Middle East, I don't find that equality, so I will go back to America.

Cabbie: There's freedom in America.

Me: Yes, freedom.

Cabbie: You aren't married, but do you love someone?

Me: What???

Cabbie: Do you love some person?

Me: You know what, that's none of your business. I'll tell you about my life, my work, where I'm from. But other things, well, I don't want to answer your question and I don't want to tell you.

Cabbie: It's personal. 

Me: Yes, it's personal.

Cabbie: You know, your Arabic is a little bit basic.

Me: {I laugh} Basic. That's a good one. Well, Arabic was my second language. I learned English first.

Cabbie: So are you a Christian Lebanese or a Muslim Lebanese?

Me: Again, I'm not going to tell you. Don't you see, that so many of the problems in Lebanon come from sectarianism, the gaps between Muslims and Christians, rich and poor. That's why there's been war in Lebanon, a civil war. It's because people are always asking, "are you Christian or are you Muslim?" It's not important! I mean, it's important but the religions are pretty similar. They can coexist. So no, I'm not going to answer your question. It's unnecessary. 

Okay, here's my stop. Thank you! Good bye! Have a good weekend!