Tomorrow early morning I will be flying off to Cairo, Egypt, for a congress of interculturalists. And I am feeling a bit edgy about it. Not that the travelling itself causes that; there has been so much of travelling and flying here and there in the last years that the excitement has all gone and has been replaced by the irritation over being squeezed in the seats of the planes and over the endless security checks at the airports. The anxiousness is also not about having so many things to do before leaving, since basically everything has been done already – about nine hours before the departure from the house. So I will even get a proper sleep this night.
The nervousness has been building up during the last few weeks because I feel that this is going to be a trip into my past and into my long forgotten feelings.
I spent a few weeks in Cairo in 1983, on my hippy journey into the unknown, at 17. After hitching a free ride with a ship from Jordan across the Red Sea to Port Suez, I entered Cairo late at night, no money at all, no clue about whatever, no address to go to, no food, nothing. Somehow I managed to come down to Aswan a few days later, but my attempt to enter Sudan without a visa failed and after a week or so I was in Cairo again. Well, it is a pretty long story, but in the next weeks I befriended some Tanzanian guys with equally empty pockets, and one of them kicked me from the self-pitying state of mind into a pro-active one, telling me that if I ever wanted to get enough money together to buy a visa for Sudan, I needed to get on my feet and start doing something about it. So, there I was, for the start going from one church to another, trying out my luck. In one Coptic Orthodox church a priest with a long black beard and utterly shining eyes stood at the courtyard, smiling warmly at me. Before I could complete my lies about being robbed, he stopped me, squeezed some money in my pocket and told me: “You come to us. We will take care of you, feed you, host you and help you get whatever you need.” His eyes were lovingly smiling and sparkling, as if he knew me all the way down to the bottom. And so I came and was fully accepted and taken care of, for about a couple of weeks. The priest was one of the most gentle souls I have ever met, just being warm and supportive, never even attempted to convince me into his religion or anything. Finally I left, clean, well fed, with the Sudanese visa and a train ticket in my pocket. And with a very warm heart.
In 1986 I took my first trip to India. I flew from Europe via Cairo and experienced a nightmare at the airport, with my passport and tickets being temporarily lost because of some confusion of officials, then raced in a van toward the plane that was already standing on the runway ready to take off, racing back after a few minutes because I had failed to provide baksheesh that would actually get me on the plane, spent another few days losing my mind over illogical discussions with the airport officials and finally found myself in the Cairo city, having to get some senseless paperwork done in order to finally sit on my plane. And so I also paid a visit to the priest. It felt like coming home, to my old and dear friends that had accepted me in my dark times just the way I was, never questioning a thing, never asking for anything, just embracing and holding me…
Anyway, the fact that I am going to return to Cairo after so many years keeps resurrecting many memories and evoking a wide variety of feelings from deep within. I am not sure I will be able to find all the places, it’s been 26 years after all, but just thinking about it keeps bringing me in touch with the feelings of confusion and hopelessness of a lost teenager in a big wild world. I would love to find that little dodgy park where I was sitting under a tree, completely clueless, and was approached by Tanzanians, who soon in a way adopted me… And I certainly wish I will find the dearest priest in a good health and be able to express my gratitude for how deeply he had touched me.
Oh boy, it really feels like walking into a time machine, heading towards the distant past.
What a great post.
It has it all, but most of all it shows how if we take the time, we will see, sooner or later, that angels (real ones not the made-up ones in paintings) walk the earth.
All the kindness and the connections we make, uplift us to show how we can be. Such people are models to us all.
What a conincidence that you’re going to Egypt, only last night I was standing outside a relocated Egyptian temple in Madrid.
I hope you get time to look around Cairo and I also hope you are able to look up the kind priest that helped you.
Comment by razzbuffnik — November 11, 2009 @ 8:48 am
Robert živjo!
Krasen blog. Lepo te je brat. Hvala za tvoje navdihujoče, hudomušne in razmišljujoče misli, ki jih deliš z nami. Predvsem pa iskrena in srčna in globoka hvala ti za Marchalla Rosenberga, ki sem ga odkrila preko tvojega bloga in se do vratu opasala z njegovim navdihujočimi knjigami!!! Hvala tudi Marjeti, ki mi je pred leti prva povedala v obraz, da kot mama delam nekaj grdo in narobe, pa sem samo čutila, da ima prav, razumela pa takrat nisem še skoraj ničesar. Ali ne znala in ne vedela drugače. Zdaj pri nas doma na srečo živimo dosti lepše in lažje kot se nam je godilo pred “puberteto”…;-) Komaj čakam, da preberem tudi vajino knjigo! Lepo pozdravljena oba in vsi vajini, tople pozdrave tudi od vseh mojih M-jev!
Comment by Mojca — November 14, 2009 @ 5:55 pm
Razz – thanks mate. What an inspiring comment, indeed. I believe it would be amazing if you left your poetic self out more often… I am not joking.
Mojca – Since this is a blog in English and I would not want to exclude my non-Slovene-speaking readers, I will answer in English. Thank you for expressing your appreciation for my writing. It is very soothing to know that my efforts are somewhat meaningful to some people out there. I am also happy to hear you were inspired by the work of Marshall Rosenberg. I suggest you consider visiting an IIT (check http://www.cnvc.org) with him in Switzerland. It is always such a influential event. And the book – well, we plan it will come out some time springtime. Thanks again and be well, Mojca.
Comment by Robert — November 18, 2009 @ 11:19 pm