The joy of the children
She sits there.
In a pile of sand by the little market.
Her feet buried under.
She scoops handfuls of sand to bury her feet further.
She laughs with joy.
Nearby is a small group of boys, a little older, one has a bike, they are clearly discussing something very important.
A man comes up to her.
It must be someone she knows very well.
He has a small shovel and he helps her bury her feet deeper.
She laughs again and chats to him.
She looks to be maybe 4 years old.
I walk on and pass some kids running by.
I say hello and one little boy turns to me and puts up his hand.
The universal language, a high five.
And off he runs.
“Welcome to the land of the Nubians”, our local Nubian guide says.
We are welcomed into the home of a local family, to eat dinner with them, hear their stories and ask their questions.
They live on Elephantine Island.
Nubian history dates back over 10000 years in the area that is now modern Egypt and Sudan.
The Nubian language is a spoken language, one they are working hard to keep alive with the young generations.
At home they speak it, in school/work/across the Nile in Aswan they speak and write Arabic and everyone learns English.
Dinner was beautiful.
First, Nubian lentil soup. Similar to the Lebanese one I grew up eating. Served with soda bread that they leave out in the sun to ferment and rise.
Next, chicken covered in spices, salad so fresh with herbs, Egyptian rice and targines (casseroles) of vegetables. Eggplant and zucchini.
Finally, mint tea and baklavas.
Mona is the matriarch.
You can tell she is in charge.
Her eyes are so warm.
And they are all you can see.
Her English is perfect.
She works at the Aswan University, has 4 children and you can tell she and her husband respect each other.
She speaks to us.
Shares about her life.
Shares her recipes.
The welcome is something special.
The proximity to actual daily life, unforgettable.
This is Egypt today.
Steeped in thousands of years of tradition, but with many of the modern conveniences.
As we boat back to Aswan, I remember the little girl.
Her laughter.
Her joy.
