U need a formal permission to volunteer

After trying for 20 days to go on this visit, I finally managed to get myself off bed at 8 in the morning. I drove for about 15 minutes and found a parking behind the school. As I approached the front gate flashes of my childhood memories played in front of my eyes. I saw my mom holding my hand on the first day of school. I was wearing checked shirt and navy blue skirt. I hid behind my tiny blue glasses and, when this didn’t work, I tried to hide behind my mom. I remembered the xylophone and accordion I played every morning, the big bell I always wanted to ring but never got to, and the huge year six boy who once pushed me on the playground. I remembered my trembling voice every time I took part in the live school broadcast.
At the gate, there was a short slim man wearing a thick moustache that seemed to be what kept him balanced. He turned out to be a teacher although he would have passed for a doorkeeper. He showed me to the principal’s office and introduced me to him, to Mr. Esmat.

Me: I used to be a student here more than 20 years ago and I’d like to volunteer.
Mr. Esmat: Sorry, you’d like to what?
Me: I’d like to … volunteer.
Mr. Esmat: Ok. Please have a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.

The lobby was a three-ring circus: there were at least 5 parents, 10 secretaries and teachers, and 3 maids. In the middle of the principal’s messy office, there were three university interns sitting at a table copying down something, an office boy, a teacher using the telephone, and a secretary stamping documents.

Mr. Esmat: Ahlan wasahlan.
Me: Thank you.

I handed him a copy of my Arabic resume. After reading it carefully, he sat forward and listened to me talk about my plans for the school. He responded well and told me about the type of students I could be working with. Then we reached an expected point of the conversation.

Mr. Esmat: Look, miss. I’d love to have you here I’m sure we need your help. But you know that employing takes place via the ministry not me. And we hire part-timers the same way.
Me: Me. Esmat, I am here to VOLUNTEER. This means I don’t want any money. Not even for resources.
Mr. Esmat: Ok, there is only one thing that you might need to do.
Me: Anything.
Mr. Esmat: You need to go to the office of Heliopolis department of education, ask for Mr. Mohamed Abdel Hady. You need to get a security permission from him.
Me: Sure. Where is that? (“Here we go,” I said to myself)

He gave me the address and some directions. I took the car and headed to Abbaseyya Square, kept running around in circles of people, buses, cabs, cars, and fumes. I miraculously found an underground parking.
Mr. Abdel Hady’s office was a small room located on the second floor of the building. I walked in to see a man drinking his tea,... and two women, one reading the paper and the other on the phone.

Me: Good morning. I’m looking for Mr. Abdel Hady.
Woman 2: He’s not here yet. (it was 10:20 am)
Me: When is he expected to arrive?
Woman 2: (after scanning me) We don’t know. He never says.
Me: I mean do I need to wait for half an hour or two hours?
Woman 2: Either. We don’t know. What do you need him for?
Me: I need a security permission.

After I explained what I needed it for, the man put his cup of tea on his desk and sat up straight.
Man: Do you think you can just walk in and out of the school just like that? Anyway, we can’t issue that for you. Neither can Mr. Mohamed. You need to go to the main department of education on Abdou Basha square.

I drove around crazy packed side streets until I found it. I walked into the office that had a sign reading “Security.” There were three men talking loudly and enthusiastically about the previous evening’s Egyptian football match. The guy I was supposed to talk to was trying to make his point clear: it was the defense’s mistake. The other two totally disagreed. I stood there feeling invisible.

Me: By the way. You are absolutely right. It was the defense’s fault. I saw the match.
Man: Of course it was. Did you see when number 10 stood there doing nothing? Was he paralyzed?
Me: No, sir. It was because those players just care about the money they take and they have no real love of the game.
Man: You’re right. (he angrily banged the desk then smiled broadly) How can I help you?

I explained what I needed and he said that I had to go the Ministry of Education with a letter of request, a copy of my ID, and two photos. He also said that most probably it would get rejected as the security department always wants to avoid any reason for “headache.”

I smiled and didn’t comment. I left the office regretting two things: not using that morning for something better and not watching the football match I lied about... I wanted to know whose fault it was.