I learn a thing or two about friendship and prejudice after a chance encounter with a local in Cairo.
The old man approached us swiftly, hobbling slightly like a pirate with a peg leg. He had a sun-wizened face, the deep lines betraying his age and experience. A grin played on his lips.
I don’t remember his exact words now, but he wanted to help us.
We were two big dumb foreigners lost in the center of Cairo with no map and no Arabic language skills to ease our growing discomfort. Liebling, with his tall stature, Western clothes, and alabaster skin, stuck out like a sore thumb, making me, despite my makeshift hijab and West African features, guilty by association. For the third or fourth time on this short trip I was genuinely scared. I had my purse under my arm in a death grip. No way was I going to be the fool and get pickpocketed again, like I was six days before in Aswan. No freaking way.
I turned to this little man, wiry and impish as Rumpelstiltskin, and curtly told him no: we didn’t need his help and we were fine. I pursed my lips and my body, on full alert, tensed instinctively. I was on guard now. I didn’t want what he was selling. After all, I knew ‘his type’ — we had met many of them during our nine days in Egypt. Vendors. Aggressive. Slick. Shifty. Wanting our dollars, pounds, and euros. Despite his affable carriage and gentle smile, I just knew this man had an ulterior motive. I had naively worn my heart on my sleeve the days before — I had gotten burned and I was sick of it. Sick of the hustle in Egypt. Sick of the hassle.
Liebling glanced at me, the petite purveyor of ice cold “don’t mess with me”-ness, and gave me a short, but meaningful look filled with reason. We were, indeed, lost. We couldn’t read Arabic, so were unable to check that the taxi had dropped us off in the right place. We had just spent fifteen minutes trudging up and down the busy street looking for visual cues, to no avail. We were up a creek without a paddle; this little old man was tending us an oar.
With a sigh of resignation I followed behind Liebling and our new acquaintance, who told us his name was Fathi. “We are *not* giving him a bunch of money,” I whispered tightly. After having $275 USD stolen from me in Aswan, my dignity and charity were battered and sore — and my capacity for trust was non-existent.We were not rich foreigners he could rip off and then discard. Sensing my discontent, Fathi assured us he didn’t want anything but our time and company. I rolled my eyes.
The old man showed us around. He took us up and down alleyways, to textile dealers and spice stalls, and through what seemed to be one of the livelier parts of Cairo. He translated the Arabic painted on the doorways and took us through a schoolyard where local children stared at us with eyes as big as satellite dishes. At one point he took us into the Christian quarter and into a church. He had Liebling and I sit in a pew while he he outlined both the triumphs and struggles in Egypt’s history. But I heard without listening: I was irate. As we sat, I kicked Liebling in the shin, covertly. “Let’s lose this guy,” I intoned. Liebling looked at me exasperatedly.
We left the church and pressed on with the tour, seemingly without aim or end. When Fathi asked if we were hungry and if we would allow him to take us to his favourite restaurant, Liebling told him we had another engagement. Undeterred, Fathi promised he would let us go, but before he did, he wanted to show us one more thing, make one final stop on our meandering peregrination. Moments later, in an alleyway, we stopped at what looked like a door to a hole in the wall. “My office,” he said, as he ushered us inside. The barrack was filled to the brim with bric-a-brac. “Junk,” I surmised before really looking.
Fathi pulled out two crude iron stools and beckoned us to sit. I perched noncommittally on its edge, ready to bolt at the earliest opportunity, and inhaled the musty air in the shed as shallowly as possible. Out of thin air he produced a kettle of hot water and offered us tea; Liebling accepted, but I refused, silently questioning the salubrity of the water.
Fathi started talking animatedly. Gone were the tales of Egypt’s past and present: instead things took a more personal turn as he began to talk about himself. He told us he had been an official guide for more than 50 years, educating foreign people about his home. He pulled out dog-eared papers and aged envelopes from deep crevices; his hands shook as he proudly showed us his treasures and artefacts. “I have many friends around the world,” he said matter-of-factly. There were smiling photos, business cards, letters beginning to dry rot, and postcards from everywhere from South Africa to America. There was a dusty book filled with an amazing amount of handwritten messages in many different languages: scribbles in Spanish, Japanese, and that crude, halting English non-anglophones rely on when touristing far away from home. No matter the linguistic code, the messages all relayed the same expressions of gratitude. “Thank you, Fathi,” they said. “Thank you for being a great guide and nice guy”.
As he talked about the people he had met through his work his eyes sparkled.
It was then that all my senseless resolve to dislike this man at all costs began to falter. He was endearing and helpful. He didn’t badger or swindle. He gave us tea, company, and valuable knowledge. He felt genuine, almost like a friend. It was certainly not what I had expected. Definitely not what I had assumed.
And therein lay my mistake. Pre-judging this man based on my negative experiences the days before. I was ashamed of myself: I had made a decision about Fathi before giving him the chance to show me who he really was. How silly. How ignorant. How unfair.
It is reckless to let your view on a whole country or people be coloured by unfortunate incidents that are sometimes beyond anyone’s control. I was pickpocketed by thieves and harassed by vendors, but the current political and economic situation in Egypt makes this sort of desperation almost understandable.
And in all the drama, I had forgotten that one of the best things about travelling is these fortuitous meetings with interesting local people. The kind of people who take the time to show two clueless foreigners around, the kind of people who fully invest themselves in trying to make you feel at home even while abroad.
Thank you, Fathi, for the reminder.
64 Comments
It’s so tough to let your guard down again once you’ve had a bad experience in a country. Glad to hear this guy reminded you that there are still good, kind people out there. 🙂
I try to operate on the principal that most people are inherently good!
Oh wow this is one of my favourite posts. It’s so beautifully written that I felt like I was right there with you while this was all happening. Very touching, very frank and an overall message that we all need to be reminded of sometimes. I’m glad something positive came out of a potentially negative situation. Thanks for sharing the story!
Thank you!!!
I enjoyed reading this story. I think these episodes teach you how to be positive when you meet a new person, especially when you are in an unfamiliar environment.
Great story. I had a similar reminder while traveling in Turkey. I guess we’re all guilty of pre-judging even when we’re often on the other end of such judgment. So these reminders are invaluable.
Great Post!!! I think we’ve all made this mistake before. Sometimes even my mood affects how I see (and judge) a country. What a selfish outlook! Thanks for the reminder to treat people as people, always.
I would have rolled my eyes also – sorry you had lost your money. That’s terrible.
In the end things turned out wonderful, which has the theft not of happened, may not have been so obvious. Great story, thanks for sharing.
Hello. I love this post. It’s so well-writen and elaborate. As an Egyptian, I don’t blame you for your prejudging but I do appreciate the story. It’s a true testament to our core values and traditions. I hope you had a good time here. Come back, there’s always more to see in Egypt 🙂
What a great post! I love the descriptions and how honest it is. This guy sounds great and I’m glad you learned a lesson that you could teach all of us – your readers! Thanks, Oneika!
I’m so glad to hear something positive about Egypt, I’ve been hearing a lot of bad, bad and bad lately. But it really is hard to let down your guard when you’re vulnerable, recently robbed and in a country not known for it’s genuineness. I would have acted the same, honestly. Thankfully you got your reminder, I hope you decided to drink some tea after all! 🙂
Just wondering if you’re Muslim? If not, why did you have on a makeshift hijab? At any rate, hope that you managed to enjoy your time in Egypt.
Thank you for sharing this story Oneika. Sometimes we forget but we meet people like Fathi that reminds us again. Love this!
This is so interesting. I met this same man on my first trip to Egypt, in 2009. A guy named Mohammed whom I met on the street took me to the Khan el-Khalili souq, where we met up with Fathi and he showed me around outside of the souq in an area where I didn’t see any other tourists. He speaks some German as do I, so he gave me a tour in German. The tour, like yours, culminated with a stop at his shop, where he showed me the book with people’s names from all over the world, whom he’d also met and taken around his small part of the city. I wrote in the book for him – perhaps you might have seen my name. He was a real sweet guy and didn’t want money or anything, just the enjoyment of sharing his part of the world with others. I’m glad you got to meet him too and he was as bright spot in your trip to Egypt!
Love this story! I think that these types of encounters are what travel is all about. I love that this happened because I know that there are so many hassles, etc. in Egypt. Fathi looks sweet.
So glad you had this positive experience (especially after having the negative one).
Great story and photos 🙂
Sometimes it is the contrast between good and bad experiences that makes us appreciate the good ones more. Cliche, but true…
Hi! I found this through your recent Twitter post on why you didn’t fall in love with Egypt; I read that, your mugging post and this one. I felt like I was right there with you the entire time. What an adventure—the good, the bad and the great, meaning your meeting with Fathi… Wow. That was the Universe working at it’s best, no? Happy New Year to you, Oneika, and I wish you safe travels always!
Really well written, Oneika! I have been in this situation more than once as I’ve traveled around. More often than not I feel myself quickly putting up a wall and planning an exit strategy before I get hit with a sales pitch or asked for tips. I have no doubt that some of the times I gave strangers the brush off, could have gone much better had I been a little more open and trusting. But then as a solo female traveler, I often feel like I have to keep my guard up. Still, I’m sure I will keep this story in mind the next time a kind stranger offers to help.
Loved this one, definitely sharing it on Egyptian Sidekick! You’re an amazing writer.
I was in Egypt and the local people seemed very friendly. Thanks for your story.
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Why is it I always really feel like you do?
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