Egypt - Day 1
From the first day in Egypt things started to look shaky. Stepping off the boat at the port of Nuweiba I was informed by the ‘tourist police’ that I didn’t have sufficient paperwork so I wouldn’t be able to take the motorbike into Egypt. Thinking this was going to be the shortest ever trip to Egypt I bargained with the port authorities to let me go sans-motorbike to conjour up some more paperwork.
After hearing stories of the last poor sucker who tried to bring his motorbike into Egypt and got sent back to Jordan I formulated a quick plan. A day introducing myself to everyone in the local town netted two new friends who worked in customs giving me the inside track. Waiting all night by the fax machine paid off too and a note arrived from Australia (thanks Peppina - Carnet Lady from Canberra) giving me the ammo I needed to have another go. In the morning armed with my extra piece of official looking paper and new friends I marched back into the customs building and before long there was progress. We walked around and around in circles getting 1,000,000 pieces of paper stamped and having to relinquish $1 to anyone who even breathed in our direction.
After hours of walking in circles suddenly it was over - thanks be to God. I and the mighty Yamaha rolled out of the gate into a crowd of eyeballs attached to many dissolute locals. You’d think they’d never seen a foreigner on a motorbike before, I guess judging by the customs procedures maybe they hadn’t.
Dahab
The week before in Jordan I had read in the newspaper about a terrorist attack in a sleepy seaside holiday town called Dahab in South Sinai. Three bombs had gone off and killed 26 people and injured 90 others. I decided to visit to see if there was anything I could do and witness for myself the aftermath of terrorism and see how it affected peoples lives.
After one week Dahab was well on its way to recovery, the main street, lined with glass shop fronts that was in chaos one week prior now looked relatively ordered, most shops were open, business as usual while the worst affected ones now just appeared to be undergoing renovations. Where only a few days ago blood had stained the footpaths, tourist lazily trod, gazing at souvenirs and haggling over the price of various trinkets. You wouldn’t have noticed anything unless you talked to the locals who nervously watched the tourists go by, knowing that these guys were here because they had planned their holidays 3 months ago. Seeing as they had already paid, they were coming, bombs or not. But three months from now, everyone knew this place would be a ghost town as the tourists who were reading the papers this week would decide to go to Tunisia instead than risk coming to Dahab. People who’s livelihoods depended on the tourist coming to town watched gloomily the handful of tourists knowing soon they would few and far between.
Everyone knew the terroristswere probably local guys; they were all asking why couldn’t they see the people it was really going to effect wasn’t the governments of far off countries. It was the locals who had been waiting eagerly for the tourists to arrive for the summer, to bring their much needed money to a country where having a job is a privilege not a right.
Cairo
Feeling rather Mosaic after my time in Dahab I spent a night in the deserts of Sinai, during which a great wind whipped up, battering the tent and covering everything in a fine layer of sand. In the morning I got up, shook the sand out of my hair and headed for Cairo. Cairo I had been told was a seething compress of cars, buildings and people. I wasn’t disappointed. Upon arrival I promptly got involved in two minor skirmishes with cars both where we were trying to occupy the same space (or more exactly - them wanting to occupy the same space as me). Same old same old, reminded me of India where we regularly bounced off cars getting around the city.
After getting completely lost upon five minutes of arrival I stopped and got into a conversation with some local boys about my age. Before long I was back at their house having the best lunch, while their family muttered in sotto voices wondering what this dusty faced foreigner was doing lost in Cairo.
Before long the mother piped up, “Christian you?”
“Yes,” I said.
A toothless grin came across her face
“After die go where?”
“Heaven.”
“Why?”
“Because of Jesus.”
Here I was being evangelized by a woman who hardly spoke a speck English, and I was always complaining that not being able to speak very good Arabic was holding me back. It didn’t seem to be holding her back.
Next inevitable question:
“You married”
“Umm… no”
Mother looks sideways at oldest daughter I look sideways at oldest daughter. Oldest daughter looks expectantly at me. Nobody says anything.
“Well sure was a nice lunch, I’d better be going”
“Please come back again soon” says mother. “Ok, thanks for everything,” I say backing towards the door.
I love my Egypt.
Feeling well fed but looking suitably rough I contacted the people I’d heard about in Jordan and they were very happy to hear I arrived. I was to meet them soon so that we could go to ‘the club’ together. Thinking the club was some sort of secret Christian meeting I prepared myself to get stuck into it. When I met them and they took me to ‘the club’ it turned out to be club ‘Wadi Degla’ a huge exclusive sports/ health complex replete with swimming pools, spas, sauna and restaurants where I was informed I was going to be staying as a guest of the owner for my time in Cairo. Talk about God providing, last night I was sleeping the the desert, tonight I was sleeping in my own private suite after swimming a few laps and dining at the local restaurant, all on the house.
Every morning I would go into the office and imagine what I wanted for breakfast, tell the lady there and after 20 minutes it would arrive. Around every corner at this club there seemed to be an employee, either a security guard, cleaner, man to open doors, waiters, trainers, gardeners. When they found out there was a foreigner on a motorbike staying at the club everyone wanted to come and meet me. In the morning there was always a group of people waiting to say “Hi!” and everywhere I walked people came running to say “Hi!”. So this is what it’s like to be a celebrity!
Most of the day I was left to my own devices but in the evening someone would arrive to take me to a new church. In all I visited four churches ranging from Coptic to Pentecostal to Evangelical Protestant - Kasr el-Dubara, Ma’adi Evangelical Church, St Marks and Rasuleya Ula. Everywhere I went I was greeted with huges smiles and welcomes. It had been a long time since I had seen such a choice of churches. Christianity is alive and kicking in Egypt. Even though they are a minority, it seems that there is a lot of money within the Christian community. The historical reason for this was when the Muslims invaded Egypt they killed many of the poorer Chrisitans who didn’t convert to Islam. The Christians who were suitably rich were able to buy their faith and retain their religion for a large fee, thus preserving Christianity for the richer, upper class of Egypt. In more recent time Christianity has filtered down to the lower ranks of society and in most churches you’ll find all walks of life. People were asking, “So, will you be coming again next week?” To which I would reply ‘Insha’ Allah’ (for explanation see later).
Wherever there is a bunch of Christians there seems to be a good Australian family and Cairo was no exception. I caught up with Craig and Esther. A young family with a new child who’d bit the bullet and come to Cairo two months ago to work for the good Lord in the Middle East. I got the impression their parents were quite surprised when they moved with a 3 month old child to the other side of the world. What made them do it? They saw an opportunity and they took it. What’s it like living on the otherside of the world? Well, they live right next to a really great ice-cream shop, only 50c a cone. It’s the little things…
Tom and Mary
After a week of living it up at club Wadi Degla I began to become restless again so I jetted off to Alexandria on the Mediterranean to catch another family who, on the opposite end of the scale to Craig and Esther, were just packing up to go home. After 12 years of serving God in the Middle East it was over for the time being.
Tom had come to the Middle East single and ready to serve. He’d received a tip-off from a friend of his about some good looking single ladies working in Jordan. One of them had already been marked out by the aforementioned friend but the other was available. So he ‘assigned’ himself to a language school nearby, let love take its course, moved with his new wife to Egypt, adpoted two orphan children and set in for the long term. As thing turn out, one of the kids suffers from mild autism and seeing as local schooling doesn’t provide for that sort of special need, they’ve decided as a family to move back home where they can get some decent care and education. I went down to visit the local school and spent a bit of time indoctrinating the kids and giving a few free rides out on the bike. They turned out to be a big hit, soon everyone wanted to have a go. So school was called off for an hour or so until everyone had a turn.
Walking around with Tom in the streets and seeing all his friends come to say hello and seeing the gap he’s leaving behind you can tell this wasn’t a decision he made lightly. But even though he’s going he knows it doesn’t have to be forever. Kids aren’t kids forever and there will always be a need for more people in this place. Especially Alexandria where you could count the Christian workers here on your fingers. What’s not to like about this place? By the sea, friendly locals, relaxed atmosphere, need for the gospel, think Central Coast NSW, in real estate terms you’d only say one thing: opportunity.
Bukra Insh’a Allah
The excitement was mounting. I’d managed to track down a family working in Libya. I’d been filled with tales of people who’d gone before me, preaching the word and becoming a ‘guest’ of the Libyan government, incarcerated up to 6 months at a time. I was just after bettering my one night stint in Lebanon. All that stood between me and the Libyan Sahara was the visa.
It seemed simple enough, fill out the form, hand it in at the embassy. Do you need anymore information?
“No,” was the answer “We’ll see to this as a matter of urgency.”
“Sounds good,” I said
““Ring us after one week,” was the reply.
After one week I started to ring. It was alway the same process without fail. A lady would answer and I would say, “Marhabba, Hal t’kallam ingleeszi?” (hello do you speak English? In bad Arabic :P) which was instantly met with the music to signify I was on hold. Another lady would answer, I’d say the same thing, same hold music . Then a man would answer, I’d say the same thing to which he’d reply “Yes”. I’d ask about my visa, he’d ask my nationality and then reply, “Sorry, we haven’t heard anything from Libya.” I’d ask when they expected to hear something and he’d reply “Bukra Insh’a Allah.” So it was every day for ten days.
Now to the layman this seems like a harmless statement, loosley translated it means ‘Tomorrow if God wills it.’ Insh’a Allah is a phrase commonly heard and is a wonderful reply to all sorts of questions. However, its meaning ‘If God wills it’ largely has another meaning which is ‘maybe but probably not’ So when someones says to you “I will ring you tomorrow, Insh’a Allah” it means literally ‘I probably wont ring you’. “Bukra Insh’a Allah” incorporates another Arabic saying “Bukra fil mish mish” literally tomorrow never comes. Using both of these phrases, what the visa man was saying to me was basically ,“The visa may come tomorrow but probably not, anyway tomorrow is never coming so neither is your visa my naive foreign friend.”
After talking to another man who’d been waiting seven weeks for his visa andhearing the same reply I’d received, I knew it was going to be a long and fruitless battle. Knowing I was riding a losing horse I knew it was time to wheel around and set my sights on the world’s other great misunderstood frontier - The Balkan States.
Mt Sinai
Feeling a bit lost, trying to regather after setting my heart on going to Libya, like Moses I went to find guidance at the place where God delivered his law to Israel, Mt Sinai. In a fitting scene, when I arrived there was a cloud sitting on top of the mountain and lightening flashed in the dusk sky.When I was told it was a two hour climb to the top I wondered if I could ride the motorbike up instead (very un-biblical I know). I was informed that it was prohibited to ride motorbikes up the mountain by the local police so I satisfied myself with gazing up at it from the bottom. Staring up to the peak watching the cloud swirling around I knew The Lord was watching. He knew what had happened and he knows what is going to happen in the next few months. What did I have to worry about?
