Cairo, the veiled Bride of the Nile!

A glittery headscarf, high-heels, a silk blouse, an embroidered shawl and mascara. I was wearing all this as I went from the B5 parking level, through the six G levels, and 40 more floors. I went out of the elevator and walked in a corridor dimly lit and romantically designed.

Chair tucked under me by a perfumed waiter. “Enjoy your evening!” he said softly intending not to disturb the first overwhelming moments. Overwhelming is the word.

Up in the revolving restaurant of the Grand Hayatt hotel, Cairo looked like a shy bride. She, too, was wearing a veil.

“I feel jealous, Cairo... for you look far more elegant.”
Her smile beamed at me as she welcomed me into her bright night.

“I now know how life can get too busy for family to talk. But I have many things to tell you. Do you realize how angry I am? I know I look so peaceful to you, but I do get quite angry sometimes!
I get angry when I know that the cost of these two hours up in this restaurant can feed two families for a whole month… when I know I’ll be spending more than 11% of my life in traffic (although I forget all this on a late night ride)… when I think about my 31-year-old brother who has a job and a house and can’t get married because he still needs $ 5000…when I look at a neighbor who has been engaged for four years because he can’t afford refurbishing and furnishing his apartment with the minimum… when I pass by the Ministry of Health and see people camped outside the building waiting for a merciful look. I even feel guilty for being healthy… when I watch a 40-second clip on u-tube of an officer torturing a suspect and wonder how much time it took him to get that heart of stone… when I feel guilty every time I drive by a crowded bus stop… when I remember how my mom has spent her life "prioritizing" and not buying herself a single thing she loved…and when I remember the pain of sitting on the floor in packed lecture rooms on hot summer’s days. I was always trying to listen to professors talking about Renaissance, literary criticism, Hamlet, George Orwell, Blake and many others who I don’t remember anything about now. I was busy trying to breathe.

One more thing I want to tell you. A secret I have to share with you. As cruel and crazy as you get sometimes, I failed to hate you. I did. I throw myself into the arms of your people on the streets when I'm tired.
I see you in the eyes of my mother when she says she’ll only leave you maybe when she’s dead. I still get tears in my eyes when I hear songs and poems written to you, or when I see a tired smile on the face of a poor man saying ‘alhamdulellah’. Thank God for everything. I let myself get lost in the scented alleys of your old streets and read million stories written on the tired walls of proud buildings.
Looking at you from up above, you look pretty… dressed up to the nines. And even prettier deep in your heart, behind your glittery veil.”