6 years ago when we first moved to Egypt it was right smack in the middle of Ramadan. It was very hard to get anything accomplished because most places were closed and we had no clue on the natural flow of this special holiday. The only Arabic words I knew was: yes, no, thank you, your welcome, and black pepper. That was it! We had no idea what to cook, where to buy things, or what was available. We were spring chickens.
Thanks to some friends, we did know of a great rotisserie chicken restaurant called Maleegy's down the street. The only problem was, the first time we went there they were closed until right before sunset. We sat and waited for about an hour. As we waited, we realized that about 100 other people had the same idea for dinner that night as we had.
An interesting thing about Egypt is that the idea of forming lines or "queues" is in fact a foreign concept. The idea is starting to take affect, but almost every time I go to the store, there are people who just cut right in front of me. If you want something, like a metro ticket or a "ful and tamaya" sandwich, you just crowd around the counter until recognized. If you are a woman, it's expected for you to shove your way in front of this hurried pack. On this day, it was a very hungry, fasting, hurried pack that needed to get home to their wives and families before the sun went down and the "breaking of the fast" occurred. It took my husband a bit of time to figure out this new system. The call of prayer went off and we still did not have our evening meal.
The smell of Chicken was heavenly and stomachs growled and tempers started to flair. Now it was a big, hungry, angry, pack of people.
As I was waiting a....em...what's the politically correct word again? Urban Mountaineer? Displaced Homeowner? Situationally challenged person? Anyway, this individual approached my daugher and I. He was filthy, shoeless, and smelly. In his dirt covered hand he held a yummy, golden cookie and was walking straight up to my hungry 1 1/2 year old daughter.
I mentioned before that one of the pillars of Islam is giving of alms, and this cookie is all that this man had and he had chosen to give it to my little girl. I freaked out. I took the cookie out of my daughter's hands and handed it back to him saying "no thank you" in Arabic.
There is a custom in Egypt that if someone offers you something it is alright to refuse 3 times. Some people offer the only food they have for the day out of politeness and it would be truly rude to except it. If a person offers a 4th time, then you know that they really indeed want to share it with you.
3 times he placed that cookie in my daughters hand and 3 times I took it out of her hand and gave it back. My daughter by this time was screaming for that cookie, but there was NO way I was going to let her eat it. His hands were filthy!
To my horror he placed it back in her hand for the 4th time and when I removed it again, he got very, very angry. He started to yell at me so loud that it started to draw attention. He was just plain crazy, or possessed or both. I searched for my husband, but he had been swallowed up by the pack of hungry chicken seekers. I was scared. I took my daughter and ran behind a group of covered women. He followed, but finally he and his cookie went off down the street, still in an uproar. I have seen that same man about 3 times in the last year while driving around town. It has always been around the same street with the chicken restaurant. He looks pretty much the same but hairier, older, and crazier.
There is a custom in Egypt that if someone offers you something it is alright to refuse 3 times. Some people offer the only food they have for the day out of politeness and it would be truly rude to except it. If a person offers a 4th time, then you know that they really indeed want to share it with you.
3 times he placed that cookie in my daughters hand and 3 times I took it out of her hand and gave it back. My daughter by this time was screaming for that cookie, but there was NO way I was going to let her eat it. His hands were filthy!
To my horror he placed it back in her hand for the 4th time and when I removed it again, he got very, very angry. He started to yell at me so loud that it started to draw attention. He was just plain crazy, or possessed or both. I searched for my husband, but he had been swallowed up by the pack of hungry chicken seekers. I was scared. I took my daughter and ran behind a group of covered women. He followed, but finally he and his cookie went off down the street, still in an uproar. I have seen that same man about 3 times in the last year while driving around town. It has always been around the same street with the chicken restaurant. He looks pretty much the same but hairier, older, and crazier.
Every Ramadan, I think about this story. I weigh the decision as to whether or not I should have graciously excepted that cookie or be happy with the choice I made. Was this man indeed crazy or was he just trying to fulfill a Ramadan obligation to Allah? Believe it or not, every year my answer changes depending on what God is doing in my own heart.
It took us 3 hours to get our chicken that night and as I recall my daughter fell asleep as we walked home in the dark, without eating.
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