Words Unspoken

Taking a risk at making life what I want it to be

[chapatra]

That Night

Looking at you isn’t as easy as it once was. The feeling is always the same, blood rushing to my head, an intolerable pain growing in my stomach, a pain that knows not to shrink away, and my skin shivering at the memory of what had happened that night. 

We grew up together, you and I. We’re almost the same age, but I am a bit older, and took care of you most of the time our parents forced us to play together. It felt like you were my little boy more than my cousin. I’d always help you button down your jacket, eat your meals, and wash your hands since it took you longer to learn these things. 

We were inseparable, you and I. We were best friends that grew up together and trusted only each other with our secrets. I’d help you talk to the girls you’d like, and you... well, you beat off the guys that bothered me or looked at me disrespectfully. Everyone envied us for what we had. They all wished they’d have a cousin that was as close as we were to each other.

Every year our parents took us to nana’s beach cabin in the North Coast. We always went there together because it wouldn’t be fun without one of us. Each summer we made new friends that would be added to our group. We’d play billiards together at night and hang around the beach in the morning every night. Summer was the absolutely best time of the year, but I’m not so sure it will stay like that.

You went out with your school friends one night. I was home reading like I sometimes did when I wanted to be alone, and all of our parents were out with their friends, celebrating my mom’s birthday. At around midnight, you were still out with your friends, and I was dying to sleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay, so I called you and you sounded extremely drunk. I smiled because I was sure that this was your first drinking experience. I didn’t want to ruin it for you. I just went to bed, and told your parents that you were home already, so they never find out you were way beyond your curfew.

The second I rested my head on the pillow, I was completely knocked out. Living in Cairo, I never can sleep this quickly because of the constant noise in the streets. It must have been 2 or 3am when you came into my room. You were sitting on the foot of my bed when you woke me up. I opened the night lamp next to my bed, and saw your completely wasted face. The first thing you said was that none of our parents were home yet. I couldn’t understand why that was relevant information, and had no clue why you were waking me up so late at night. Without saying a single word, you started lifting my shirt up to see my breasts. I jumped away and asked what the hell you thought you were doing. I never knew that you were this strong, you told me you just wanted to see something while you held me down to uncover my breasts once again. 

I tried to scream, but no voice would come out of my mouth. I shoved you as hard as I could. You were much stronger than I thought. I couldn’t give up now, not when I’m so close to danger. I kept pushing you, and when I couldn’t do anything more, I pinched you really hard till you got out of my room, and I placed the night table behind the door so that you wouldn’t come in again. Tears rushed down my eyes and I was grasping for air, I couldn’t breathe.. All of what seemed to be reality to me was only a lie. You turned from being my closest friend to being the person I dreaded the most. So how do you expect me to look into your eyes now without wishing that I’d rather have died than to have lived with this memory now embedded in my brain playing over every time I look at you.

[chapatra]

A Secret Love Affair

The heat of the cigarette spread through my soul as I inhaled its toxic comfort. No one has ever been able to touch my soul and engulf my being in a way finer than this. Not a word out of anyone’s mouth, not a single action, just silence and the fumes of a cigarette are able to make me feel understood. My nerves and anger are at peace as the remains of the smoke exit my mouth once more.

Adrenaline steps in. I’m flirting with death, a being feared by many, whom I’d like to meet again soon. I’m much more aware of my existence; I can feel my heart beat very intensely, and I can feel myself moan as the breath is released from my mouth. Like the devil, cigarettes lured me to their path of destruction. Such a beautiful, white stick sacrificing a piece of itself to give me a puff full of pleasure didn’t seem so harmful at the time. it never failed to seduce me to its trap.

I smoked more of it willingly, and lie if I have to say that I wish I could stop being a part of this 40 year old secret love affair. 

The cigarette has remained beautiful all these years, but to stay beautiful, it sucked away the happiness and youth I possessed. All these years I thought it was sacrificing itself for my pleasure, it was stripping me away of all that made me truly happy in this life. A flirt with death has transformed into arrangements to be together forever. I have fallen victim to the cigarette’s spell, and there seems to be no way out.

[chapatra]

Maid from Benin

I try to avoid their judging eyes everywhere I go. I can both see and sense the fear from miles away. They fear my rich, black skin, as they have been taught to do for so long by society. I keep reminding myself though, I can’t keep looking at the ground for too long or they’ll know I’m afraid too. They’ll know that I’m not capable of hurting a fly, and I need them to fear harassing me. “Walk like a soldier, and be confident,” I keep reminding myself, or their kids will chase me with rocks like they did with my cousin. 

Walking through the streets, I can’t stop thinking of how unbearable the heat is in this city. Cairo has no occasional breeze coming through the trees. Not in winter, and not in summer, for the buildings, almost like a fortress, have done such a good job at blocking any bit of fresh air trying to make its way to the city. Looking at the direction cars are coming from, I take a look at the people in the bus stop. The drips of sweat on everyone’s forehead is a constant reminder of the hard life and hot weather we’re all experiencing by nature of our poverty.

I’m patiently waiting for another micro-bus to take me to Zamalek. A family there has shown interest in hiring a maid that’s willing to sleep over in their “small” apartment. Of course they say small, with no true understanding with what a small apartment can look like. Looking up to God, I pray as hard as I can that it all works out. 

If it doesn’t, I’ll have to go back to the place I’m staying at, where we’re no less than 10 women staying in a two room apartment, all looking for a job, and all tired of the heat we’re forced to endure and bad bread we have no choice in changing. Mr. Atef, our care taker, picks the girl he likes most that week whenever he receives a call regarding a request for a maid in the rich houses in Cairo. I’ve never been his favourite nor plan on ever being it, but the truck bringing more women from back home is at risk of getting caught in Nigeria. He had no choice but to take me to that job offer. God works in mysterious ways..

It’s been 20 minutes since any micro-bus has agreed to take me on board. I’ve been told that many Egyptians don’t feel comfortable around African people. I swallow down the anger I have coiled up in my throat and remind myself, “Walk like a soldier, and be confident.”

[chapatra]

Off Season - Aswan

Summer.. A time for beaches and good times. The best time of the year, where streets are full of laughter and happiness, where girls and boys run around with not a single worry in the world. Such is the reality of most places, but not here. Summer is where money is as scarce as a drop of rain in June. The streets are silent. No one is laughing, no one is smiling, everyone is looking for a bit of shade to stay under, praying for the night to get closer as they try to push through the day. 

The three months of winter, on the other hand, are a whole different story. People from all around the world come to visit us. They come to see the things their country can never beat us in. They may try to steal small artefacts from time to time to help put their museums on the map, but they will never be able to steal our temples or culture. I have to hand it to them though, they are more cultured than anyone I will ever meet here. They have respect for what they visit and appreciate the history behind most of the things they see. They study every wall of every temple I take them to, and laugh their hearts out when trying new things or playing around with the kids in the village. 

The people that do show up in the summer though... They remind me of everything wrong with this country. They are not educated, disrespectful, and pay less than half of what we ask them for anything. They know we’re desperate this time of the year. Don’t get me wrong, I know that they have more right than anyone to visit everything for free, given that they are citizens of this country as much as I am, but the gas in my boat is not free. The food they eat is not free, and my time is usually worth money. 

I think it’s their lack of exposure to the outside world that turned their ignorance from moderate to overbearing. There is absolutely no sense of respect to me, my boat, or my city. They do not understand why people come from all over the world to see these sights, and I doubt they will ever understand. 

Trash is everywhere; by the river banks, in my boat, and on the streets. It’s not enough that the weather is overwhelmingly hot and dry, now the attitudes have changed too. Everyone around the world dreads the breeze of the first winter chills, but I can’t wait to welcome it to my city with open arms.

Fahd - A Nubian boat owner and Nile tourguide.