An African Journey:The Color of Egypt©Copyright 2001
By Yasmain Soya
It was two weeks before September 11th and I was on my way to Africa, or as some may say, the Middle East. Egypt was my destination. A long awaited moment, after spending so much time promising myself that I would, I thought “so when am I going to do it, if not now?” So, when my tax money came in -I was off, for a little more than a week. Finally, I reached the airport in Cairo and it was hot, that is the only word to describe it. After taking a mini-bus from the plane escorted by armed police to the air terminal my first tour person, Ahmad, greeted me. He was a witty person, white in color, short, and thin and he was so helpful. I was glad he was there for me. He asked me, “Is this your first time in the Middle East?” “The Middle East?” I said, “I thought I was visiting Africa?” He tilted his head and looked at me and answered, “Well, half of Egypt is in the Middle East and the other half is in Africa.” I looked at him and shook my head.
In Egypt today, its the religion that pulls the people together black and white. How that works and the totality of it remained to be seen for me. Ahmad retrieved all my bags put them in our mini-bus and we were on our way to the hotel. On the way, Ahmad was the perfect guide and after inquiring what the favored car was for the Egyptian, he said “The Egyptian popular car was a broken car because of all of the accidents”.
When I arrived at the hotel the room and the view enraptured me. I thought how lucky I was to be in a room with chocolate candy and danish, bottled water and cheeses, air-condition and a terrace overlooking an impeccable view of the Nile on both sides of my corner room. It was on the terrace that I could see the flow of traffic, but there were no traffic lights -not one in sight. And to cross the street you would have to say your prayers and hope for the best because the cars do not stop….nor do they slow down. Crossing the street required great skill and especially for a woman.
I had only 3 hours of sleep and then after meeting my traveling companion, Flora, we were off again to the south of Egypt. There I boarded my ship and met others in my tour group: two hippie Californian brothers who were annoying to no end. Tipping (bashkeesh) was not part of their religion, even though the Egyptian people live for their bashkeesh. Jim and Jack followed Flora and me, many of the journeys so that they could ride off of our tipping. I also met two black Americans, Carol, and Brenda, who had just arrived from Jerusalem. They had just made a slim escape from a restaurant where a suicide bombing occurred, so they were still a little shook up, but happy to be in Africa. There were others in our group as well and we all met on the ship.
Abdullah was a plethora of information and I wanted to take it all in: from the taxation system to Abdullah’s version of the Passion story, to the modern day archeologists around the world who had set up shop in Luxor, to Abdullah’s stories of his archeological findings of canopic jars. He talked about the significance of the Christian and Islamic invasions, and the importance of those who held onto the African religion.
The ship continued to sail down the Nile and I looked out onto the rural scene with homes made of mud bricks. These houses seemed stuck in time of somewhere before AD. The mountains themselves were pyramids. I felt like the unusual tourist, standing on the deck of the ship watching the children ride on their donkeys going through their usual day. I watched the farmers and the fishermen on their small boats and just in that moment, I felt a feeling of belonging. It was a strange yet beautiful moment.
The crew on board played jokes on the guests, and some of the jokes I thought a bit strange -but I also thought that maybe this was cruise-life in Egypt. Like the pretend person stuffed in our cabin beds made out of pillows, towels, and our personal belongings.
That evening we were all asked to dress Egyptian style and join in on the ship games. A fun time was had by all but I will never play “pass the orange game” again because the English fellow who I had to retrieve the orange from under his neck did not shave properly and I had the worst prickly ache under my chin for an entire day.
Sunrise, the next day, was absolutely exquisite on the Nile beyond the bulrush. And as we visited the Kom Ombo, we were told the history of the medicine practiced there. Our group giggled at the drawings of breast enhancement on the temple walls. Abdullah showed us the example of a pregnancy test carved in the walls as well as an example of dentistry and psychiatry. We also went into the clinic rooms that were constructed during the time of ancient Egypt. We were told how women, today, came to this particular temple to become fertile because of the healing factors there. He even pointed out a group of Arab women circling the temple for good fortune in producing a baby.
The tipping system (baksheesh) in Egypt is all part of one’s trip. No matter where your tour group goes, whether in a temple, around a statue, to bring your camera inside of a tomb, into a museum, riding on a camel, a horse and buggy, you name it, there is a baksheesh you must give. It seems irritating but once you know that that is what you must do, and you have gotten use to that fact, you prepare yourself to give and/or buy some wares. This is where a bulk of my money was spent. There is no way around it. The candy I carried from the states did help sometimes, though.
When we arrived in Aswan that evening, some of us from the group went to the Nubian Museum, which is a beautiful and modern, air-conditioned museum built in 1997. Although Cairo is the most cosmopolitan city, Aswan seemed very advanced and reminded me of some places in England or the states. It was one of the highlights of my stay in Egypt. Not only did it hold the history of the darker Egyptian, the Nubian Museum had detailed maps and time-lines. This confirmed my quest for the color of Egypt. I also found that most temples and tombs were in the south of Egypt. It is there that I learned that during the Arab invasion (641-658), that the only way for a slave to be set free, was if they became Moslem.
Later we took sailboats to Elephantine Island. Several children clung to the sides of our boats in their small rickety rafts singing French tunes for what seemed like hours (apparently they must have come across many French tourists). Although the Americans aboard my sailboat were annoyed with the children, I gave them candy and talked to them. The Euro-American doctor aboard my sailboat and his family all but nearly peeled the children’s fingers off the side of our sailboat. I couldn’t take much more of the arrogant American’s behavior, and comments about how filthy the homes looked on shore but this was not the first time that I lamented and regretted not being with a black group of tourists. Breaking away from your group just to get a breather was totally necessary for piece of mind at moments. And at that moment on the sailboat, I thought to myself that my trip was my lifetime break -but to the doctor’s family, it seemed just like another trip like going to Disneyland or something.
It was almost the last day and some of us flew back to Cairo. Dark-skinned people are few and far between in Cairo. My new tour guide, Imani, was white in color. Now that we had broken away from the larger group there were only two on the tour, Flora and me. Imani, did not talk to me, she only spoke to Flora. It was only until I told Imani that I was working on my Ph.D. did she talk to me. In Cairo, I felt more like I was in a foreign land and not as welcomed as I felt in the southern parts of Egypt. But I felt blessed to have had the experience with Abdullah down south.
That day our first stop was the Egyptian Museum. This is where King Tutankhamen’s galleries are. It is so overwhelmingly housed with gold trimmed artifacts, even more than the Metropolitan Museum in New York or the Louvre Museum in Paris. The Royal Mummy Room is kept at a cool temperature and it is there that I noticed that all of the mummies, bar one (Merenptah XIX), were dark-skinned. My tour guide said that Merenptah XIX was fairer skinned. Hmm interesting to note, I thought.
Even though Imani was talking to me now, I slipped away to do some touring on my own and I stumbled across another group, an all black group from the states. They invited me to join them and I seriously thought of doing so, but did not because it would have been too complicated to arrange and there was only one day with my new guide. After the Museum, we visited the mosques in the Citadel. P.S. By the way, I arrived home and I was sick with a fever, stomach cramps, and a headache. I laid in bed taking antibiotics for days. I never should have had that salad that last day. But the good thing was that I wasn’t sick on my African, Egyptian journey.
By Yasmain Broady-Soya
September 2001
My plane was scheduled to leave at 11PM, but was delayed for 3 hours. It was Egypt Air and it seemed as though I was the only black American waiting. Ninety-nine percent of the passengers were Egyptian. Moving from Gate 21 to 32 to 33 to 22, kept us all busy during the delay and after boarding the plane there was another hour wait before we began to move. Yet, once on board -I was in heaven, sitting in front of the movie screen with ample room to spread my legs during the ten-hour flight. I sat dwelling on the fantastic time I was going to have and the pictures I was going to take but just then I heard the sounds of a crying baby right in back of me. Actually, it was a colic baby. He cried for 45 minutes and during all the commotion around me, the complaining and the shifting around of a baby seat and blankets, sucking of the teeth of passengers, the mother behind her veil began to cry as well. So, we had two wailing people and a lot of commotion. I said to myself, “If I was going to make a move to another location I better do it now”. I found a seat in the very last row where the folks were friendly. We buckled our seatbelts and were launched into a lift off I had never experienced before in my travel career. The plane actually sounded like a bomb and it shook so recklessly that I grabbed hold to my armrests tightly.
Once in the air I was relaxed. The “unbuckle your seatbelt” sign came on and the “no smoking” light went off and two seconds later nearly 10 men came running to the back of the plane lighting up their cigarettes over me. This went on throughout the entire flight so that by the end of the flight my face was puffy and my eyes were done for. Having alcohol was not allowed and the food was unappetizing. For breakfast, I was offered something that resembled a frankfurter- and that is when I began to remember what I read in the travel books, to be weary of some foods. The lights on the flight did not work and the movie was a map of where we were going, the headphones were broken. But, you know what? At this point, I was just looking forward to being in Africa.
By this time our tour guide, Abdullah, a fascinatingly intelligent man had joined our group. Being a tour guide for a profession is a very respected job in Egypt. Most of the tour guides, besides being white in color, have their Ph.D. or their masters. However, Abdullah acknowledged that he was black. I was lucky to have him as a tour guide for the bulk of my stay in Africa. He and I sat down on our break for tea and discussed the politics of Egypt and I was introduced to his friends who knew Dr Ben Jochannan. We talked about the color of Khemit (Egypt, which means black). Ninety-nine percent of the tourists were white, so there is no real need for the tour guides to mention much about the blackness of the Egypt, but Abdullah repeatedly assured me that Egypt is in Africa and was originally all black, and I should not be mistaken about it. I took notes like a diligent student.
My cabin on the ship is more modest than the hotel and there was a damp smell but nothing that could not be cured with a few essential oils. There was one station on the television, but the food was very good with a bar I did not discover until my last day that served pizzas. We were warned though, not to eat uncooked vegetables because of the chance of getting sick. I also enjoyed a great deal of Middle Eastern food on the ship, and I especially loved a potato dish that was delicious.
The first day of touring to the temples and tombs in Luxor was overwhelming and the 110° heat intensified it, but I could not stop thinking that I did the right thing in coming to North Africa. Little did I know that my timing was perfect because two weeks later it would have been impossible to travel to Egypt. We walked from temple to tomb and the vendors, some as young as 5 and others as old as 80, stormed us pushing their wares in my face. I would give them my candy that I brought with me from the states or buy from them but when their insistence continued I had to learn to say, “no thank you” firmly. Abdullah was helpful in telling the pleading vendors to move on.
I kept taking notes writing down the titles of the books Abdullah suggested for us. He wanted to get everything in so we followed him to the alabaster house, and later to the remnants of a village where the first known plumbing systems was constructed. We then went to Abydos, the subject of my studies, and at the end of the long hot and awe inspiring day I went back to my cabin, feet sore, and sand clinging to my clothes. I discovered that sandals are not the best to walk in without a light sock, and your water does not stay cold when carrying it around. After a shower, I sat down and read about where we were going next.
By 9:30AM we reached Esna. The children were selling newspapers and I was told that this was summer holiday for them. But I was also told that many of the children did not attend school. In Esna the houses were made of cement almost apartment looking ones but without roofs, and this was, apparently, to avoid taxation. And because it never rains, roofs were not needed. Through Esna, we then reached Edfu. The people were certainly more my color there and it was a pleasure to hear the Egyptians call me their Nubian sister. I was also called “Mother of Iman” in Arabic because, I was told, that the mothers are known only by their son’s names.
Touring began again with other more fascinating tombs, temples, and stories. The carvings and hieroglyphic inscriptions along the walls told the history of not only how the ancient Egyptian lived but how those who came after, marring up the walls systematically and methodically to suit their needs.
On the subject of women, when travelling alone as a woman, one has to be careful because men will want to lure a woman tourist into a secluded place on the pretence of only taking her picture, but then he will want baksheesh. The police officers also engage in this practice. Even with their M16s strapped on.
The next day, still in Aswan we took a motorboat to the Temple of Isis that was under water for over a decade and reconstructed only recently. Other temples are still under water. That day we also visited the perfumery with more than 700 types of perfume. While sipping on hibiscus, we chose our scents, listened to a short lecture and I adorned myself with a temporary tattoo. There I met some wonderful people from England who had been to Egypt many times, I had a lovely talk with them and exchanged addresses. After the perfumery, we were off to the High Dam in Aswan that was built in 1971.
My companion Flora, however, who was also Euro-American was a pleasure to be with. She was a schoolteacher and had such an ache to belly dance. She pulled me around to many stores buying just the right belly dance outfit for her. She was fun and I was glad that we met, even though I was not at all interested in belly dancing. The hippie Californians, Jack and Jim were awful. They annoyed me with their comments but I just pretended that they were not there. The English and the Japanese folks in our group were lovely people and fun to be around.
On our way to our last lunch we passed the “City of the (Living) Dead” as it is called. This is where people live in actual houses in a cemetery, because of the apparent lack of housing. This fascinated me and I took many pictures. It is also at this moment that I caught a photo of Egyptians on a crowded city bus. This caused a bit of commotion when we all had to offer our profuse forgiveness and bow down repeatedly to the armored bus. It was a little off putting but one has to remember that pictures are not allowed to be taken of people in public without permission.
During Lunch, which included an abundance of salad and vegetables (which I was dying for at this point), we discussed social politics, the cost of living, and class structure. We talked about arranged marriages (which Imani disapproved of), the university (which only few can attend), and we also discussed the subject of children that I saw in the streets with scratched faces, shoeless, begging for money from tourists. Imani said that, “they are tricksters and you should ignore them”. Well, I know enough not to give away all of my money, but I can’t be too sure that these children are doing well like us. She looks at the children as if they were insects as I bought their beads and wares and gave them American sweets.
That afternoon we visited the Papyrus store and then the Khan al Khalili Bazaar, which is a huge market that could take a day to get through. I purchased some jewelry and other souvenirs, including a knife for my son which I knew that he would like considering his fascination with those kind of things. Our last stop was the pyramids. There are 60 in Cairo and we visited 9. There I took a camel ride, but I do not think the camel enjoyed it very much. The pyramids and the Sphinx were of course some of the high points of my excursion, but soon after that I was on my way back home.
There is so much more that I could have told you but I think I chose the most favored parts of my journal’s entries. I wrote, “it was amazing” and “no doubt I would do it again!” Thanks for revisiting this part of Africa with me.
