Upper Egypt

Before I left for Cairo I saw Chuck Bass in the airport. I've never watched Gossip Girl and Im not really one to follow the tabloids so I had no idea who this guy was, but this did not stop me from running up to him and taking a picture of him and with him....

I spend this past weekend in Upper Egypt in a poor peasant village out side of Mallawy. Imagine a series of maze like streets made of packed down animal dung and enclosed by hand made brick apartments. Here people keep animals, ducks and cows in their homes, the women move like spirits veiled behind full faces hijabs, and the children run bare foot through the streets wearing the clothes that we donate in those clothing bins behind shopping malls and Wal-Marts.

The minute I stepped out of the car, I was Chuck Bass. Literally every single child and even some adults followed me like a parade of curious babies through the street. Staring with wide and eager eyes, the bold ones shouted out any phase they knew in English " Alo" " I Love you" " Whattt iss yourrrr naammeee" and at one point I stopped to tie my shoe. The mass enclosed me hands everywhere, touching my hair, a pinch here and there, questions buzzing from every side. A man had to come with a sick and shoo them all away. When I sat down to eat, a boy had to stand at the door just so that we could eat in peace. Everywhere I went I was followed by an army of eyes, wondering and watching. A little girl (age 6) with amber eyes and pigtails made herself my personal bodyguard. Held my hand, guided me, and once another little girl said something fresh she smacked her in the face! We never spoke this little girl and I but before I left I gave her a piece of candy for her trouble; her faced looked as if I'd given her gold. The first day I was in good spirits, I would wave and smile, the next day the well water was not sitting well with me but still I had to grit my teeth pretend everything was alright. Through this ordeal I thought back to Chuck Bass, and thought wow this is what he must feel everyday, poor guy. I wish I hadn't taken that picture of him in the airport.

The women came to life indoors when they lifted their veils, the danced and laughed, and loved their children. There was a wedding this weekend. We visited the brides flat where we were welcomed by more women, dancing and playing drums. As I sat there and watched the bride ( age 19 which is considered very old to get married)I couldn't help seeing a hint of sadness. During the ceremony she sat there with a forced closed mouth smile watching the festivities below.

The last day I was there the men took me to see some ancient ruins. They were amazing. I couldn't believe how nice and generous everyone was. while pulling off I thought to myself was a sweet, simple caring people. My host father began asking me what I thought of the village, how I liked it and such. We began talking about the women. He told me that basically their lives consist of school until age 14 if they are lucky, marriage by age 15, then pretty much just sit around and wait to get pregnant. Also, if a man suspects promiscuity its not uncommon for a woman to get "circumcised". As he continued a sick feeling began brewing in the pit of my belly. That little girl, the one with amber eyes and pigtails, was just to be a "baby maker". No work, no school, not even privileged to marry a man she loves, just a baby maker. We visited an old women by the ruins, they told me that she spent her entire life basically in that room. Cooking cleaning, watching. The men tried convince her to attend the wedding festivities, she wouldn't even leave to do that.

I want to do something. Want to go back and move them away from there, want to give them books on feminism, do something! But I guess the worse part of all of this is knowing that I cant. Knowing that I must understand that this is the culture. I must force myself to understand, even if I don't think its right.