The year was 1985, I was 24 years old, and had just divorced my first husband, when Khaled and I got married and took off for a two and a half month trip to Egypt. We were flying KLM, and at the time coach and business classes were nicer than first class is now. It was such a pleasure the whole flight long, and back then it took about three hours more to get there than it does now. Now it's about nine hours and then it was a twelve hour flight, not including a quick stop in Holland. Planes are smaller and quicker now than they were before. Now they hold more passengers than they used to which has made what used to be a privilege to fly overseas, a nightmare on what amounts to public transportation international.
But I digress.
.
We arrived in Cairo and you had to exit the 747 on foot down the stairs on the tarmac, then be shuttled to the airport building. The building was huge, in greens and tans with lots of tiles and marble and dark wood window sills at the check in and out windows.. customs and so on. Large pictures of President Mubarak and travel posters of the pharaohs, Pyramids, and the Citadel of the Mohammed Ali Mosque and Castle were easily seen. There was lots of noise and tons of people all rushing here and there without order. Most of them bargaining for something... to get away with paying less at customs or nothing at all, or at the visa booth to explain that their foreign friends and relatives don't need a visa (not wanting to pay). Everything in Egypt is done by a wink and a nod and baksheesh (tips). (I once sat in Alexander the Great's throne for a photo for five pounds in tips and the tour guide took the photo)!
A friendly taxicab driver grabbed us and our luggage and tossed us in his cab, making a deal with Khaled along the way. He would take us right to Sittoo's house at 30 El Asbagh Street in Zaytoon, Cairo and help us with the bags too for a fair fee. It was agreed as we drove along the highway from the airport, lined with palm trees and giant painted billboards of famous movie stars and singers in Egypt. Then incidentally, as we went, there were more giant painted portraits of Mubarak. I remember this, I didn't like, feeling slightly oppressed just by the sheer size of the grandiose in your face paintings of the president. But I didn't allow the feeling to remain as surely my attention turned to the bright lights of the city of Cairo by night, the beeping car horns, and the millions of pedestrians, motorcycles families and children sitting along side, and cars going every which way - no traffic rules were obeyed. I was both amused and afraid by the chaos of the traffic and the whole scene.
On every street corner was a boutique that sold cigarettes and bread, candy, and soda. Others sold fruit and fruit drinks, cold-cuts, and canned goods. There were pharmacies on every block where you didn't need a prescription for those drugs that weren't narcotics. All the men working in these shops were smoking.. people were smoking everywhere. Speaking of people smoking, there were always the old men along the street smoking sheesha which is tobacco like hookah or a bong - just outside of the coffee shops where only men were allowed in, and there was always a black and white television playing in there for them to enjoy with their coffee and conversation.
This was the scene by night - but by day it was barber shops instead of coffee shops and fresh fruit stands with farmers in from their fields with their goods and by their donkeys and carts. Also, the farmers would sell their goods to a person who would walk the streets and the blocks with the items on a cart or on their heads, calling out what it was they had and how much it would be.... soon all the wives and mothers in the town were calling to them from their balconies "Wait! Stop here!" and then they'd promptly argue the price and the size of the item.
Anyhow, that evening was just dusk when the taxi pulled up to Sittoo's building on the corner with the pharmacy across the street and Ahmali on the opposite corner - the butcher the corner across from him.
We climbed the stairs of the building one flight then the next and Khaled said, "Shusssh." But we were giggling and so excited to see Sittoo who had no idea of our arrival or even our plan to come. He wanted to take her totally by surprise and that's how it was in Egypt - the opposite from what I knew my whole life. Nothing could be by surprise where I came from - Everything had to be planned and approved of ... or you mightn't be welcome. Not in Egypt. Not at Sittoo's.
Khaled rang the bell and it sounded like birds chirping... he rang again and we stood back with the bags. Sittoo opened the door from the dining room and screamed!! Grabbing us and hugging us and laughing and crying and laughing and not able to speak she was so surprised. We dragged our bags into the flat and she took Khaled by his face with her hands and looked into his eyes, then kissed him all over his face - even looking at his ears, neck, and hair - as if to say yes it is you - you are my boy - same as always - same as before. I thought of a mother cat with her kittens - it was just so precious the way Sittoo loved her children.
Then she turned to me and pulled me to her bosom, hugging me so sweetly. I was home. I was loved so instantly, and she said this to me, also. You are home and I love you like I love Khaled. You are welcome here all the time. Anytime. My house is yours. What I have you can have. She kept saying "You are welcome". I was just so taken with her from the instant I first saw her with Khaled in that doorway of the flat just off the dining room. It is a scene that remains with me, and I think it will forever.
Our Sittoo, the most loving, special woman, wife, mother, and grandmother ever. We are so truly blessed to have her, and our children have her also - she helped to raise them every summer of their lives as children. Sittoo, the kindest sweetest most loving giving person I've ever known.
Lucky, really lucky kids to have had her in their lives to help shape who they have become.
For this I've always been very thankful.
But I digress.
.
We arrived in Cairo and you had to exit the 747 on foot down the stairs on the tarmac, then be shuttled to the airport building. The building was huge, in greens and tans with lots of tiles and marble and dark wood window sills at the check in and out windows.. customs and so on. Large pictures of President Mubarak and travel posters of the pharaohs, Pyramids, and the Citadel of the Mohammed Ali Mosque and Castle were easily seen. There was lots of noise and tons of people all rushing here and there without order. Most of them bargaining for something... to get away with paying less at customs or nothing at all, or at the visa booth to explain that their foreign friends and relatives don't need a visa (not wanting to pay). Everything in Egypt is done by a wink and a nod and baksheesh (tips). (I once sat in Alexander the Great's throne for a photo for five pounds in tips and the tour guide took the photo)!
A friendly taxicab driver grabbed us and our luggage and tossed us in his cab, making a deal with Khaled along the way. He would take us right to Sittoo's house at 30 El Asbagh Street in Zaytoon, Cairo and help us with the bags too for a fair fee. It was agreed as we drove along the highway from the airport, lined with palm trees and giant painted billboards of famous movie stars and singers in Egypt. Then incidentally, as we went, there were more giant painted portraits of Mubarak. I remember this, I didn't like, feeling slightly oppressed just by the sheer size of the grandiose in your face paintings of the president. But I didn't allow the feeling to remain as surely my attention turned to the bright lights of the city of Cairo by night, the beeping car horns, and the millions of pedestrians, motorcycles families and children sitting along side, and cars going every which way - no traffic rules were obeyed. I was both amused and afraid by the chaos of the traffic and the whole scene.
On every street corner was a boutique that sold cigarettes and bread, candy, and soda. Others sold fruit and fruit drinks, cold-cuts, and canned goods. There were pharmacies on every block where you didn't need a prescription for those drugs that weren't narcotics. All the men working in these shops were smoking.. people were smoking everywhere. Speaking of people smoking, there were always the old men along the street smoking sheesha which is tobacco like hookah or a bong - just outside of the coffee shops where only men were allowed in, and there was always a black and white television playing in there for them to enjoy with their coffee and conversation.
This was the scene by night - but by day it was barber shops instead of coffee shops and fresh fruit stands with farmers in from their fields with their goods and by their donkeys and carts. Also, the farmers would sell their goods to a person who would walk the streets and the blocks with the items on a cart or on their heads, calling out what it was they had and how much it would be.... soon all the wives and mothers in the town were calling to them from their balconies "Wait! Stop here!" and then they'd promptly argue the price and the size of the item.
Anyhow, that evening was just dusk when the taxi pulled up to Sittoo's building on the corner with the pharmacy across the street and Ahmali on the opposite corner - the butcher the corner across from him.
We climbed the stairs of the building one flight then the next and Khaled said, "Shusssh." But we were giggling and so excited to see Sittoo who had no idea of our arrival or even our plan to come. He wanted to take her totally by surprise and that's how it was in Egypt - the opposite from what I knew my whole life. Nothing could be by surprise where I came from - Everything had to be planned and approved of ... or you mightn't be welcome. Not in Egypt. Not at Sittoo's.
Khaled rang the bell and it sounded like birds chirping... he rang again and we stood back with the bags. Sittoo opened the door from the dining room and screamed!! Grabbing us and hugging us and laughing and crying and laughing and not able to speak she was so surprised. We dragged our bags into the flat and she took Khaled by his face with her hands and looked into his eyes, then kissed him all over his face - even looking at his ears, neck, and hair - as if to say yes it is you - you are my boy - same as always - same as before. I thought of a mother cat with her kittens - it was just so precious the way Sittoo loved her children.
Then she turned to me and pulled me to her bosom, hugging me so sweetly. I was home. I was loved so instantly, and she said this to me, also. You are home and I love you like I love Khaled. You are welcome here all the time. Anytime. My house is yours. What I have you can have. She kept saying "You are welcome". I was just so taken with her from the instant I first saw her with Khaled in that doorway of the flat just off the dining room. It is a scene that remains with me, and I think it will forever.
Our Sittoo, the most loving, special woman, wife, mother, and grandmother ever. We are so truly blessed to have her, and our children have her also - she helped to raise them every summer of their lives as children. Sittoo, the kindest sweetest most loving giving person I've ever known.
Lucky, really lucky kids to have had her in their lives to help shape who they have become.
For this I've always been very thankful.
