The countdown was on... streets were packed with (literally) millions of last-minute shoppers and travelers. It was absolute mayhem! Suddenly, as quickly as the roads had filled, they became deserted. Cairo had been evacuated for the countryside... people had places to go, butchering to do, extended families to see.
It was the Muslim Feast of Sacrifice: commemorating Abraham's willingness to offer his only son in obedience with God's command. I like to call it the feast of meat; families often slaughter a sheep, goat, or cow in remembrance of Abraham's faithfulness - sharing about one third of the animal with the poor in their community - perhaps even a leg (with skin still attached) if they're lucky.
The Eid is a time of gift giving: girls run around in cute new shoes, (to my chagrin) boys play with new plastic guns, and everyone shares way too many sweets! In a way it's like the Muslim equivalent to Christmas, with a week off work and socializing with family and friends. Add in the timing this year (late December), plus the exodus of ex-pat friends to their winter wonderlands and you had one slightly homesick Canadian.
So, to remedy this, my friend Heba (right) invited me to join her for the festivities, see her family's village, and marry me off to one of her cousins.
First, we spent the night in her second home in el Obour, where we met her mother's family, and, naturally, stuffed ourselves with sweets. After sleeping through the special dawn prayer and slaughter of the family's calf (shucks) we had a special meal of rice and fried pita in a salsa and meat sauce. I ate a few morsels of meat after being pressured by Heba's mom but felt sick to my stomach (perhaps because we had walked by the butcher at work on the carcass an hour earlier, and well, I'm vegetarian). When it came time for seconds I had to refuse, but this sparked a lively discussion that shaped my relationship with Heba's mother for the remainder of our time together. Apparently my reasons for choosing vegetarianism (which I will likely share in a subsequent entry) were nothing to her as "meat is a gift from Allah". Alas, our different sources of authority and ideas about moral pluralism (or openness to pluralism) made for a little awkwardness, but I think we still ended on a positive note.
In the afternoon Heba and I set out for her village, stopping at her Cairo home on the way. Unfortunately our Cairo stop coincided with the slaughter of a large bull right at the entrance to her apartment complex. I waited in the car, in full view of the bull and the crowd of spectators watching the blood leach from its throat and congeal on the pavement. While Heba was busy inside I watched twenty minutes of futile thrashing and tail fluttering and determined that if I can't kill an animal myself I shouldn't eat it... (reason to stay vegetarian #11). But, as traumatizing as this was for me, I think it was important to see. We're so disconnected from the meat production process in North America, and it is interesting to observe the 'halal' way of doing things.
Right... back to the village... we reached Khateba around dusk, and were welcomed by Heba's entire extended family who had been anticipating us all day. There were children everywhere, shy at first, but bursting with enthusiasm soon afterwards - happy to swap Arabic for English and cuddle (girls) and dance to the music on uncle's cell phone. We were given a royal feast and then moved from house to house drinking tea and munching on sugar cane. It was wonderful! Well, except for the cousin who wanted to marry me despite the fact that we couldn't communicate and had very different world views. Ah well, would it be a trip to the village without a proposal?
It was neat to see and feel the contrast with Cairo - here the welcome was genuine and open, here people knew how to be in each other's company without material distractions, here there was a culture of sharing, and neighbours flowed between each others houses (particularly the children). Over all I felt it to be a haven of beautiful simplicity. Of course these impressions are fragmentary and coloured by the one family in the one village I saw... I cannot say that all villages or families would be like this, and even now I have no idea what day-to-day life is like for them there. All I can say is that this visit and the journey there - along small roads hugging one of the branches of the Nile - through the heart of Delta country somewhere between Cairo and Alexandria - were wonderful. In fact the hospitality of Heba's family and my interactions with them reminded me greatly of the happy time spent visiting my friends' extended family in rural Tibet earlier this year. Incredible generosity, love and humour!
The next day Heba and I were back in el Obour, preparing for a family meeting with a suitor of hers.
A short aside - I met Heba through the American University of Cairo's student listserv. She had requested help editing her Master's thesis in exchange for Arabic lessons. I jumped at the chance, and soon became enmeshed in feminist arguments for a new construction of the 'single woman' in Egypt (away from 'spinster' or 'aynas' - literally the callous she-camel in Arabic).
It turns out that Heba is herself struggling with the societal pressure to marry. As a 32 year old woman she is now subject to be called an 'aynas' with all its baggage (implying she's somehow desperate, or odd, or worthless). Additionally, her and her mother do not always see eye to eye about who would be a suitable partner for her, and this has led to some heartache and frustration on both sides. Heba wants to break tradition and marry for love, not economic security, but she has somewhat traditional relatives. When her suitor did come the other day, he did things the traditional way - bringing his sister and her family along (for moral support as well as custom), and the men had one conversation while the women had another (Heba and I jumping up to serve them pop and tea). After grilling the man on his views of how to treat a woman, and praying together, Heba's uncle took Heba's suitor aside for a man-to-man chat about finances and who would contribute what for the wedding pad. I don't remember Heba and her man speaking directly once, and after he left, her uncle did not disclose the details of his private conversation. Heba hates what she terms 'the traditional bullshit', but struggles to move past it with her suitor and family. We've had many interesting conversations about differences in marriage and singleness in Canada and Egypt. At times she seems to toy with the idea of staying single if she is unable to find a partner who she loves and loves her in return.
I'm grateful to have Heba's friendship... apart from being a wonderful companion, she is giving me tremendous insight into religion and culture here, and I think we both enjoy the exchange of ideas. Cheers Heba for a wonderful Eid, and good luck as you continue to navigate your romantic relationships! Looking forward to more conversations and visits...
Meet Mohammed, a sixteen year old computer-whiz from Aswan. Mohammed has been combining work and school since he was eight years old because he wanted to help take some of the burden off of his father and contribute to the household. Over the past eight years Mohammed has worked with a range of different businesses: a street vending enterprise, a construction company, a plumbing company, and now, a restaurant. He sees work as a positive force in his life: “At the age of eight many children can work… why shouldn’t I be working – gaining independence, and the understanding of how society works” he explains. 
