Interlude
you may have looked in vain for the Mother of the World parts 1,2 ad 3. but as i skipped 3 weeks of my time in Egypt (the Mother of the World as it is known by some) i will reserve 3 preludes not unlike george lucas that i will get to at a later date, insha'allah. part 6 is up next, but i sometimes i get distracted and am compelled to do something else. this is why...
today is my last seven hours in Egypt. I divided up my time in this country to about 11 days in Alex, 11 in CAiro and 11 travelling around. But i shuold have known, time would never be enough. I have only just begun to know my family again; my Uncle Sherief, my little Uncle Amr (my half uncle who is only 4 years older then me) and his new family, my cousins, and all those characters from the trips of my youth who had impressed upon me a sense of the world i could not have known from australia and new zealand alone.
on top of that this trip was important to me not only to catch up with my family but to get to know my Dad, finally. My Father's life had revolved around his immediate family (me, mum, sis and brosx2) for as long as i had known him. he had left his world behind when he married Mum. i, on the other hand, never knew his world, and had thus concerned myself with my own. when i fought with, argued, forgave or thought of my dad, it was always on my terms. my dads life was always seen from the perspective of my own. i never really knew him and, despite an occasional question directed towards the arab world, i realised i had never really wanted to. that changed when he died.
Questions come to me now, and the desire to share experiences with him. but he is not there. instead i have found myself in his life, here in egypt, finally. I have met his best friends, eaten the best rice pudding in alex from the place where he came when he was younger than me, in a voltswagon not manufactured anymore, and bought from the son of the man he had bought his sweets from. i talk abuot Allah, the Prophets, and the Quran with his brother and his friends. One of his friends from his earliest life, Ismail Adly, brought me a gift of some Ayat (verses) from the Quran, called 'The Kursy' (The Chair or Throne). Ismail told me that Dad had told him of these verses when they were just 10 or 11 years old. Dad had told him that whenever he felt down or sad, to recall these verses. Ismail remembered this act of compassion to this day. I too remembered my Father, surrounded by Hisham El Mohandes, my name-sake and dad's best friend, his son, and Ismail. As i sat there listening, eating my dinner next to the nile, i tried to hide my tears behind the beautiful music of his world, and the darkness of the night that he had once shared with these very same friends in another age.
I also saw his Mother, my grandmother who had died long before i was born. Her picture painted in my mind with the words of my Uncle Sherief, amongst others. She was the most beautiful woman they had known, they said. and as i sat there in my uncle's car i wanted to ask where my Dad had been, what he did, who he was. more than anything i wanted to him to be there, to laugh at and with him as we heard the stories of his youth, of his world, with his friends, to pray with him to God, to be held by him just like he had before he died. and my eyes and heart felt overwhelmed once more. this is why time is never enough.
now, i dont want to leave, despite finding it so hard to stay. times change, and as i say this i know they are changing again. so i will be sad to leave and i will be happy to arrive somewhere else at some other time. i wish that i was my Father for his world, and to know my Father in mine, but i wish to be myself and so will endeavour to move along. and i know i have family and friends here and there and that is important.
today is my last seven hours in Egypt. I divided up my time in this country to about 11 days in Alex, 11 in CAiro and 11 travelling around. But i shuold have known, time would never be enough. I have only just begun to know my family again; my Uncle Sherief, my little Uncle Amr (my half uncle who is only 4 years older then me) and his new family, my cousins, and all those characters from the trips of my youth who had impressed upon me a sense of the world i could not have known from australia and new zealand alone.
on top of that this trip was important to me not only to catch up with my family but to get to know my Dad, finally. My Father's life had revolved around his immediate family (me, mum, sis and brosx2) for as long as i had known him. he had left his world behind when he married Mum. i, on the other hand, never knew his world, and had thus concerned myself with my own. when i fought with, argued, forgave or thought of my dad, it was always on my terms. my dads life was always seen from the perspective of my own. i never really knew him and, despite an occasional question directed towards the arab world, i realised i had never really wanted to. that changed when he died.
Questions come to me now, and the desire to share experiences with him. but he is not there. instead i have found myself in his life, here in egypt, finally. I have met his best friends, eaten the best rice pudding in alex from the place where he came when he was younger than me, in a voltswagon not manufactured anymore, and bought from the son of the man he had bought his sweets from. i talk abuot Allah, the Prophets, and the Quran with his brother and his friends. One of his friends from his earliest life, Ismail Adly, brought me a gift of some Ayat (verses) from the Quran, called 'The Kursy' (The Chair or Throne). Ismail told me that Dad had told him of these verses when they were just 10 or 11 years old. Dad had told him that whenever he felt down or sad, to recall these verses. Ismail remembered this act of compassion to this day. I too remembered my Father, surrounded by Hisham El Mohandes, my name-sake and dad's best friend, his son, and Ismail. As i sat there listening, eating my dinner next to the nile, i tried to hide my tears behind the beautiful music of his world, and the darkness of the night that he had once shared with these very same friends in another age.
I also saw his Mother, my grandmother who had died long before i was born. Her picture painted in my mind with the words of my Uncle Sherief, amongst others. She was the most beautiful woman they had known, they said. and as i sat there in my uncle's car i wanted to ask where my Dad had been, what he did, who he was. more than anything i wanted to him to be there, to laugh at and with him as we heard the stories of his youth, of his world, with his friends, to pray with him to God, to be held by him just like he had before he died. and my eyes and heart felt overwhelmed once more. this is why time is never enough.
now, i dont want to leave, despite finding it so hard to stay. times change, and as i say this i know they are changing again. so i will be sad to leave and i will be happy to arrive somewhere else at some other time. i wish that i was my Father for his world, and to know my Father in mine, but i wish to be myself and so will endeavour to move along. and i know i have family and friends here and there and that is important.
posted by Handsome Hish at 2:59 PM
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