Egyptian Hospitality

We are hanging on for dear life. The road is bumpy and the 4X4 is going at breakneck speed. With my eyes closed, I think, is this how it's going to happen? Is this how I'm going to die? I begin to curse myself for switching seats with Rachel. Being in the back seat had obstructed my view of near plunges into the huge sand dunes.Mo, our otherwise gentle guide, notices my distress and this seems to greatly amuse him. Encouraged by my screams of terror, he laughs wickedly with a manic look on his face. Weeee! This is fun, he seems to be thinking. Hurriedly, I fumble with my seat belt. No sooner had it been buckled, Mo slams on the brakes. Five seconds of stunned silence follow. We peer down and realize the jeep is mere millimetres away from plunging off an 18 metre cliff.

"That's enough!" Mo looks stunned. Why is this crazy girl yelling at him? "No more!" I shout, waving my arms wildly. Unsure of what to do, Mo glances at the others uncertainly. They are quietly collecting themselves. I stare at him without backing down. Finally Mo bursts into his trademark smile.

"Okay. Okay. It's okay". And then proceeds to steer us away from the cliff.

After reclaiming my spot in the backseat, we continue our drive through the Black Desert toward the Bahariya Oasis in peace. Exhausted, dirty and hot, we barely remember to appreciate the stunning views of the giantgolden dunes swirled with black pebbled sand, remnants of extinct volcanoes. It is an otherworldly experience. The sand is so pure and untouched, it makes you want to just reach out and stroke it; to lie down in it and be enveloped by it. The desert is ours; an untouched sanctuary of natural, breathtaking beauty. At this moment, all is good in the world. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

We doze off. When we awaken we are in a tiny village. Where we are is a mystery. All we see are tiny shacks, shops and a few children running around. Car trouble; just what we need. Our patience is wearing thin.

"Five minutes," Mo says. Uh oh, we've heard this before. His five minutes can turn into a couple hours. Rachel, Red, MH and I wander around a bit. Nothing to see. We watch as a man comes to help Mo fix the car.

"Hello!" He greets us warmly. "Come!" He leads us up a small path, and leaves us with a woman. She is young, wearing a blue gown and a lilac hijab. We ask her name and she smiles shyly and answers.

"Meena." Her home looks like a small cave with a straw roof. There is no furniture. A basin and a few clay pots are the only possessions. We see an older woman and a large woman with a mischievous grin sitting at the basin with a fat duck in her hands. Judging from the fresh bloodstains leading inside the house, we had just missed the slaughter. Meena brings out a special mat and offers us a seat. We take off our shoes and sit down. The older woman brings us tea and the large woman is keenly observing us while simultaneously skinning the duck. My friend Red is quite a sight for Egyptians. She sticks out like a nun at a w****house. An awkward silence hangs over us for a few minutes as we sip our tea. The sassy woman is grinning wickedly while continuing to skin her duck.

"Sooo you have husbands?" she asks with a glint in her eye. We tell her no "Why?" She asks in disbelief. I don't blame her. Being in our mid-late twenties definitely puts us into the category of old maids. We establish that the man that brought us in is Meera's husband and the sassy one seems to be single. Hmm. Wonder why? She puts the duck down and zones in on Red. "You very nice!" She states it as a fact. And then her and Meena look at each other and begin to giggle. They seem fascinated with Red's bright hair, childish giggle and chubby cheeks. Okay, so what are the rest of us? Chopped liver?I sip my tea.

"You Egyptian?" they ask me.

"No," though I look it, with my dark skin and hair.

"I five babies. How many you have?" Again the question is addressed to Red by Sassy. But wait, I thought she was single? Hmmm. Maybe they're more modern than I thought. Sassy goes back to her duck and begins to hack away. She commissions Red to help her. At this point, my stomach is getting queasy. The sight of raw meat normally makes me squeamish, and here is a whole animal being cut up in front of me. Oh Lord, I think as she begins to pull out the guts and various other organs. Meena smiles at us shyly. The old woman comes in bringing more tea.

"No thanks," I try to tell her. If I stay in here any longer, I may be sick.

Just then, Meena's husband interrupts. I exhale in relief. The women look sad to see us go. Despite the duck slaughter, I am also quite sad. In the short time we spent with them, I felt a warm hospitality which is often nonexistent in larger cities and towns. Despite their simple surroundings, these women are happy, sweet and hospitable. They're having duck for dinner. They have each other. They are content. Hardly any words were exchanged during our short visit. But it didn't matter. Those lovely smiles will never be forgotten.

As we continue on our way to Cairo, I think how lucky I am to have been invited into the home of these lovely people. Maybe next time, we'll get to stay for dinner.

Based on true events during desert camping in Egypt, April 2009