I am sorry it has taken me so long to make a new post. Between the trip to the White Desert, increased work with midterm exams, and the approaching Eid al-Fetr break, it has been hard to find time to myself.
I am currently sitting in an ‘ahua (café) opposite the mosque of Amr ibn al-As waiting for the night prayer to begin. These last three days of Ramadan are considered the most important and the mosque of Amr ibn al-As, the first mosque in Africa, is one of the busiest in Cairo. On the 27th night of Ramadan, widely considered the most important of all, they flew in an Imam from Saudi Arabia (Mohamed Jabril) and there are reports of nearly a million people praying here. Tonight, they are already setting up for spillover into the streets (for reference the capacity of the mosque itself is roughly 5000).
Sitting alone in this ‘ahua with the approaching Eid holiday, I have a chance to sit back and take in the whole experience of Ramadan in Egypt. It has been a truly eye-opening one. I have never felt more welcome or more comfortable in any city, let alone a foreign one than I have here. The openness and kindness have been, at times, overwhelming, as Arab hospitality often is.
For the first ten days of Ramadan, while I was still fasting (yes I gave up, eating and drinking during the day is just too enjoyable) I felt I was truly an insider, a "one of us." Never has such a simple act, when I revealed it to others, caused faces to light up the way my fasting did. True, it has also resulted in some questions about why I haven't converted yet, but given the sincerity of faith here, the question has not been off-putting in the least.
Last weekend, I went with Hossein, one of my "Egyptian brothers," Corey, Georgia and Erik to the Mosque of ibn Tulun and the City of the Dead (an old Islamic cemetery now inhabited by those displaced by the 1992 earthquake). After a beautiful falouka ride on the Nile just before sunset, we all went back to my Egyptian family's home. They live in a poor village not particularly well served by the Egyptian government, in a building (townhouse makes it sound much too grand) in which the whole family lives together. When I say whole family, I mean four brothers and their respective wives, their children (I counted three with one more on the way), their two sisters, and their mother and father. Despite the simple, though delicious, food it was by far the best iftar I have had all Ramadan. We ate fatteh (a conglomeration of most of the carbs you can think of and tomatoes) simple roast chicken, and salata baladi; but it wasn't the food that was so satiating, it was being in such an incredibly closely knit, loving, and welcoming household.
This is perhaps the most telling example I can give. When I arrived at iftar with a selection of cookies from a bakery near my apartment, the reaction of disappointment I received was both totally unexpected and totally revealing. Ibrahim asked me, "why did you do this, we are family, we don't want you to spend your money on us." While at first I felt as if I had let them down, I quickly realized the level of affection these words carried. Only in this place, only with these people could friends I made a little more than a month ago have truly made me part of their family.
So I say again, now that Ramadan is coming to a close: Kul al senat wa anta taib. All the year and you are well.
