"More than this - there is nothing"
July 13, 2006
So yesterday I interviewed the Sheikh of al-Azhar. Actually, I just went as the interpreter for my journalist friend�we�ll call him Paddy, though he�s actually Dutch�who called me up last Thursday to see if I was up to the task. I was nervous at the prospect of interviewing this prominent figure of Sunni Islam (it�s a bit like interviewing the Pope, you know? Though perhaps not quite as big a deal), and I was especially worried that my Arabic skills would not be up to snuff.
But, no worries. The interview went very well. The Sheikh has a reputation of being a bit hostile, and there have been tales of people being kicked out of his office for just looking at him the wrong way. Luckily (and also sort of sadly, because it would have been a fun story to tell) we were not kicked out of his office, and were able to ask all the prepared questions, as well as a few others. The only sort of tense moment came when Paddy started crossing his legs. The Sheikh�s personal translator cleared his throat and clicked his tongue, and Paddy quickly put both feet firmly on the ground. Potential crisis averted.
Afterwards, in lieu of payment, Paddy bought me a shisha and coffee, and we talked about how things had gone. He seemed happy with the interview�though dissatisfied at some of the Sheikh�s diplomatically evasive responses to his more difficult questions.
I hope he�ll call me up again soon for other interviews. This was another one of those great experiences to put in the bundle of inexplicably great experiences I�ve been having lately.
As partially documented here, there has been a lot of good and new in my life lately, and the subsequent outpouring of support and respect from friends and family has left me feeling�at the risk of sounding like a born-again Christian or a hip-hop star at an awards show�incredibly blessed. I don�t want to use the word lucky, because I feel I have had a hand in these good things that are happening to me. For the first time I feel like I managed to conquer certain fears and anxieties, and get what I wanted. But I nonetheless feel blessed that the events I set in motion for myself have ended up the way I had hoped they would. More importantly, I feel blessed because the people I admire and love have been so wonderful to me
But with this wave of good feeling, there is also an undercurrent of anxiety. The title of my last post was �fey?��and I was not referring to the fairylike way in which the Italians handle the ball (er, because actually there is nothing remotely fairylike about how they play). I was referring to the Scottish meaning of the word �fey��i.e., �fated to die� or more broadly speaking, I was referring to that feeling of euphoria that comes before tragedy strikes. I am always wary of good weeks�weeks when I get accepted to a program, my team makes (and then wins) the finals, new opportunities open up for me, everyone is so good to me etc., because I�m always just waiting for one tragedy to come and knock all the triumphs down.
Earlier this week there were two deaths in the family, one on each side. They were fairly tragic, sudden deaths, and one could have been prevented if not for the idiocy with which this country oftentimes functions. These deaths have reminded me of the misery that abounds both here in Egypt and in the world in general. And though it is incredibly self-centered of me, I feel personally responsible for so much of what I see happening around me. Or if not responsible, then I feel like there is something I can do to make it better, and I am not doing it. Though I wake up each morning with something to look forward to on a personal level, this past week, those first few minutes out of sleep have generally been consumed by thoughts of those who have passed. And there are brief moments of guilt as I wonder why life lately has not been as good for others as it has been for me.
But to try and end on a positive note�
Yesterday, after the interview as I was in the taxi on my way to work, I was again overcome with a feeling of joy and well-being. As I looked at the passing Downtown streets where people were just beginning to swarm and bustle, I found myself thinking about the fact that there is truly no city quite like Cairo. She�s a temperamental bitch, but you can�t help but love her. As the taxi crossed over the glittering waters of the Nile from Downtown to my neighborhood, I had the same thought I�ve had almost every time I have driven over that same bridge for the past two and a half years: Hot damn. It�s the motherfucking Nile. I am passing over the frigging Nile.
You�d think it gets old, but somehow it hasn�t yet. At least not for me.
As the taxi came off the bridge and passed the Ministry of Agriculture and the ever busy fruit stalls that line the street, I looked at the mounds of shining green melons and fresh-from-the-grove mangoes, and the people moving past each other in the sweltering heat in that gait Egyptians have which is equal parts downtrodden and dignified, and I thought to myself: I am going to miss this.
And for the first time in two weeks, that thought was not followed by: If I go.