The Nile: A River of No Return
Zephyr Carlyle
February, 2020. The dust was a fine grain mist that swept in from the thirsty plains, and served as a down payment of the ever encroaching desert. Only the Nile River, with its periodic flooding and subsidence kept the desert from claiming this narrow stretch of land as its own. During pharaonic times, this land was vast and fertile; now it was sand and scrub land, except for the banks of the fertile Nile. Marian was standing on the balcony of her family’s apartment looking out at the nearby Saqqara pyramid. The colossal pyramid, perfectly angled and directing all attention heavenward, shimmered golden yellow as it baked under illuminating klieg lights. Like clockwork, at the stroke of 9:00 p.m., the pyramid was bathed in flashing red, purple and green lights accompanied by loud, crashing music. Marian was reassured by the familiar jangle and knew that the sound and light show had started. The nightly show was going on, but Marian also knew the seats were largely empty as the tourists had not returned yet. Wiping the grit from her face, she said out loud to no one, “Maybe I will call him. Perhaps he will talk to me this time.” She went inside the house and borrowed her brother’s phone to dial his number.
“Hello? Who is this?” came the response.
“Hi. I just wanted to talk to you”
There was a moment’s pause. “Marian, you said that last time. We have been over this before. I told you not to call me. Let me guess, you borrowed a phone from a friend so I wouldn’t recognize the number?”
“I had to. I wanted to make sure you would take the call. I am fine. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I told you to send me a text message on occasion if you want to tell me some news about you or your family. Otherwise, I’m not talking to you.”
“I think of you. I just wanted to hear how you’re doing.”
“You know what? Contact in one month. Maybe then I will feel like talking to you. But not now. I’m hanging up. Goodbye.”
Marian gave the phone back to her brother. She left the balcony and went back into the dingy apartment she shared with her parents and brother. She could smell the cumin and chili spices mixing with the lentil carb aroma coming from the pot her mom was stirring on the stovetop. Soon they all sat down for their one big meal of the day, lentils and pita bread along with one cooked eggplant to split among the family members. After dinner, Marian took a long walk on the dirt road to the edge of her village not thinking about much of anything. The dust trailed behind her.
Jim clicked the home button to end the phone call. He remembered when he met Marian shortly after he arrived in Egypt on business. She worked at the Saqqara museum cafe. She watched the tour bus pull up and the chatty tourists all disembarked. Jim, with his standard issue khaki trousers and blue dress shirt, was quiet and clean cut. He had a thoughtful demeanor and she liked that. Something moved her to go up to talk to Jim, and she usually never approached tourists outside of the cafe where she serves up Turkish coffee and hawks ancient artifacts of dubious origins. Pointing to the nearby cafe, Marian sounding carefree, “Hi. I work in here. I was hoping you would come by and visit the cafe. We could talk.” After the official tour of the local pyramid and museum, Jim made a beeline to the cafe. Jim’s eyes widened and he observed Marian as she was serving the tourists coffee and tea. Jim noticed her flawless complexion, the beautiful earthy skin that covered the thin curves of her cheeks. He wondered what her hair looked like under the tasteful Spanish head scarf. Perhaps because the scarf took away any distracting hair styling, the depth in her dark brown eyes were accentuated. Jim thought she looked like a Native American, with skin the color and texture of well-worked deer hide. Jim’s New York City uncle would have taken one look at Marian and called her a “doll.”
Jim was surprised to find his tour guide in the cafe. They sat together and talked about tomorrow’s tour events over coffee served by Marian. After the beverage service, Marian tempted them to see the artifact and souvenir shop in the back of the store. Jim took the bait and followed Marian back to the shop while the tour guide stayed at the table to watch their belongings. Marian explained that some of the items sold were souvenir copies, but the display case behind the counter held ancient artifacts found by the locals. Jim looked over the selection and announced that he was not interested in buying any souvenirs. Marian did not say anything. Her eyes popped out and the lips pouted in response to a wave of pain that spread across her face. The look on her face melted Jim’s heart. Jim offered to pay for his coffee, but Marian frowned and shook her head back and forth. Jim asked to keep in touch. He was surprised when Marian agreed, and they exchanged phone numbers.
Jim and Marian started texting. They started slow with just “hello” and “how are you?” on occasion, but the rhythm increased until they were exchanging daily texts about the day’s events, emotions; and then plans to get together. When they finally did spend one day touring the museums, mosques and markets in old quarters and the Christian section, they shared the joyous rhythm of new friends. They laughed and joked together and held hands as they crossed the busy Cairo streets. They held hands long after they crossed the street. They went and had dinner. Jim had a couple of the local Stella brand beers. Marian was Moslem and did not drink. Jim began to talk to her about his family history and emotions as if they were long lost friends. He showed her a photograph of his parents. Marian said she had an uncle who looked just like Jim’s dad. Jim laughed and said that perhaps they were related. At the end of the evening, Jim gave Marian a $100 bill. As they said goodbye, he leaned into Marian and they kissed. Jim gave Marian his address in New York. On her way home, Marian read and re-read the address in the Chelsea section of New York. She fantasized that maybe she would visit him one day in New York. But she was hoping to see more of Jim in Cairo before he left to go home.
Jim was originally supposed to spend three weeks in Egypt on a tourist visit. However, his business took longer than originally planned; and then the covid pandemic forced the temporary closure of the Egyptian airports. Jim’s return home to the States got delayed more than once. Marion’s job at the museum cafe dried up as the stream of tourists evaporated. Marian looked for work but the tourists at the local museum, cafe and nearby shops All Marian knew was the tourism trade, and there was no work in tourism. There was no other work available either. Thus, Marion and Jim were now free to spend whole days together, touring Cairo or on fun excursions. Jim increased the amount of money he gave Marian as he knew that she was out of work.
In fact, Marian and Jim spent many days together first as a tour guide and a tourist; and then increasingly as friends; and then “more then friends.” The few days melted into a few weeks, they did the grand tour of Cairo: the Giza pyramids; the Cairo Tower; Sufi dancers; the Old Islamic Quarter; the great bazaar of Khan El Khalili. After that, they toured the whole region from the nearby city of Alexandria to the desert town of Fayoum. At the end of each adventure, Jim gave Mirian a fat wad of Egyptian currency, which she preferred over American money, and they would kiss goodbye. One night, as the couple exchanged several kisses; the blood flowed, and pulses quickened. Marian broke off from a long kiss to exclaim, “You know this is wrong. We should not be kissing. It is forbidden, haram.”
Jim replied, “But we are not doing anything wrong. We are not doing anything that my grandmother couldn’t see. I don’t even know what you look like under your veil”
Marian chortled, “Yes, but my grandmother could not see this. We should not be together. You know that. I can only be with a Muslim man that my parents approve of. And can be together only if we are planning our marriage” Jim broke off the embrace. They agreed to remain just friends but still they kissed and embraced when they greeted and parted.
Marian invited Jim to see her home and meet the family. Marian escorted Jim: first by taxi to the local museum where they first met. The museum is in the center town hub of a outlying, semi-rural section of Giza, the smaller sister city adjacent to Cairo. From the museum, they took a tuk tuk to Marian’s home in the neighboring village. A tuk tuk is a street-hardened golf cart road tested for those narrow Giza side streets. They squeezed into the tuk tuk’s back seat and the cart raced down the dusty side streets, careening around the warrens of the little village; past battered coffee shops with rickety chairs; little bodegas that sold sodas and snacks; and the tuk-tuk stopped for a minute to let a small herd of goats cross in front. They came to a full stop in front of an old apartment building. They got out and Marian led Jim up four flights of steps. The staircase was dark and dirt was ground into the concrete steps with a smattering of trash scattered everywhere. They popped into the fourth floor apartment. Marian greeted her family and introduced Jim to her mother, father and then to her older sister, Nagab, and her husband Mohamed, who made a special trip to meet Jim.
The apartment consisted of a dingy living room with old cracked wallpaper, a cramped kitchen and three small bedrooms. Jim was welcomed into the home and Marian translated the conversation between Jim and her family. The father inquired about how much he was enjoying his visit to Egypt. Jim, in turn, complimented the family on the cozy home and what a great job they did in raising such a wonderful daughter like Marian. The mother came in to announce that dinner was ready. An oval coffee table made of pounded tin was moved from the corner to the center of the living room. Marian directed Jim to sit down on the floor by the table and her father and Mohamed, Marian’s brother-in-law did the same. The mother and Marian brought from the kitchen and placed on the table heaping platters of food: fried chicken, a mixture of rice and yellow vermicelli pieces, simmered beans, pickled vegetables, and pita bread. Marian joined her Mother, sister, and a couple of other of Marian’s aunts who lived in the neighborhood in the alcove in between the kitchen and living room. They sat on big pillows and chatted while the others ate. The father pointed from the food to Jim, but he shook his head. He made hand motions for the father to start. The father used the serving spoons in each plate to scoop up food and place on the table in front of him. Jim motioned for Mohamed to serve himself. Mohamed scooped food and put it on the bare table, just like the father. Mohamed grabbed some eating utensils from a bin in the center to eat. Jim grabbed some utensils also and served himself. The father ate with his fingers. Jim was uncomfortable as he could not talk to the others at the table without Marian there to translate. The men did little talking until the father called out something to his family members in the alcove. Marian came into the living room and went through a door to another room, making sure to close the door behind her. She returned with a large bottle of refrigerated water to serve the guests. Jim just looked at Marian. She responded, “The refrigerator is in my bedroom. There is no room for it in the kitchen.” Jim nodded.
After the men ate, they moved just a few feet from the table to recline on floor cushions and lean against the living room wall. The mother and Marian came in and moved the table to the alcove. As Jim used hand gestures, a few Arabic words mixed with English, he spoke to the smiling men as Mohamed offered Jim a cigarette. The woman sat down at the same table and continued eating where the men left off. After everyone finished eating, everyone sat together. Marian could speak freely to Jim as no other family member spoke any English. Marian explained that her father came tonight to meet Jim from where he lives in a nearby village. He stays there most days of the week to tend to his ailing father who is bedridden. The father can not work as he is the grandfather’s caretaker. Jim asked if the mother works. Marian shook her head and said no, she is a traditional mother. She explained that very few women in the village worked outside of the home. Jim enquired, “Then, if your father does not work and your mother does not work, that means that…..”
Marian interrupted, “That’s right, I work to take care of the family. My sister, Nagwa, lives nearby with Mohamed who sells vegetables in the market. Nawag takes care of her child who is sick. Let me show you Amina.” Marian led Jim to a back bedroom where Nawag was tending Amina, her child of six months,. She was a cute-looking child, but had a eye that was red and blood shot. The baby also had a brown birth mark on her cheek. Jim asked, “What’s wrong with her eye?”
Marian replied, “The baby has some problem with her eye but I do not know how to say it in English.”
Jim frowned, “A cyst?”
Marian says, “I don’t know what you call it in English. She needs surgery to fix the eye and we don’t have the money. The surgery costs $600!”
Jim thought he was leaving. He stood up to say goodbye and gave Marian’s family a “hostess gift”: a small change purse stuffed with Egyptian currency. Marian informed Jim they were all going to visit her nearby uncle and family who were waiting to serve them coffee. They all trundled off in two tuk tuks to a nearby apartment where they were greeted warmly. After a tour of the house they all sat down and enjoyed some tiny cups of thick Turkish coffee and sesame cookies. As they got up to leave, Marian asked Jim if she could give her uncle some money to pay him for the snacks. Jim gave the uncle what he thought was a generous amount of money. Later on, Jim gave Marian money to pay for the surgery. The family used Jim’s money to pay for food, rent, utilities and the like. The family used the $600 surgery money for basic expenses as the baby did not need surgery, just eye drops for a minor eye infection. Jim’s money lasted a long time. After that money was gone, the family was forced to sell what little gold or other jewelry they had to pay back loans they had taken out at exhorbitant interest rates just to keep the apartment operating and the family together.
Marian continued to spend time with Jim and he looked forward to her fun visits. Commonly, Marian would take a taxi from her Giza village on the far side of the sprawling Cairo metroplex, and travel to downtown Cairo to join Jim. Once together, they would have urban adventures exploring the museums, parks and tourist sites of greater Cairo. Jim paid for all expenses: taxis, meals, entrance fees and small momentos. Jim realized that when Marian arranged for a taxi or tour, the fees were twice that of a regular guide or ride. Often, Marian would ask for money to pay a restaurant bill and Jim never saw the check, and Jim was told that the bill was much higher than expected.
One day, Jim took a solo taxi to meet up with Marian. An Egyptian friend at the hotel helped Jim negotiate the taxi price before Jim got into the cab. He noted that this taxi cost about a third of the price Marian told Jim a taxi cost to get to her village. When Jim reproached Marian about the high costs he had paid her, Marian had a bunch of excuses why the taxis she arranged cost more – the higher rate is because she usually travels late at night, the cost varied if the driver does not know the village, Jim’s taxi frequents that hotel and gives a special rate, etc.
The next day, Marian called up Jim. Marian sobbed as she spoke: “I am so sorry to tell you that Nagwa’s baby died. She got something in her lungs, I do not know the word in English.” Jim did his best to reassure her and asked how he could help. Marian said that the funeral would be the next day and that Egyptians just had private ceremonies for the death of the very young with no public funerals. Jim asked how he could help.
Jim asked around and found out that friends and relatives chip in money to help with Egyptian burial and funeral related expenses.The next time Jim saw Marian, he voluntarily gave her money to help out with the expenses.
They continued to see each other. One day, as Marian went to find out the lunch bill from the waiter. Jim saw that Marian’s phone was open as she was looking at photos.On a whim, Jim picked up the phone and began to scroll through to see the photos. Jim stopped and stared at a photo of Marian and Nagab and baby. Marian walked up to the table. “Jim, why are you looking at the phone?”
I just wanted to see the photos from yesterday from the market
Why is there a photo of you with Nagwa and Amina?
“Oh, that is an old photo.”
“Well, you are wearing the same clothes in this photo that you were wearing yesterday. You have on the same hat that I just bought for you at the market.”
“That’s right. The photo is from yesterday but Nagwa is holding a different baby, our cousin.”
“No. This baby has the same birth mark as Amina because it is Amina. She never had a funeral which is good. But I gave you money for nothing which is not.”
Jim threw money down on the table to pay and yelled, “Here is the correct amount of money for what the bill really is, not how much you tell me it is. You have been lying and weaseling me for money from the day I first met you.” He stomped out of the restaurant as Marian ran after him just talking loudly about mistakes and confusions. Jim whirled around to face Marian. He spit out the words, “Stay away from me.” He turned his back to Marian and walked out. She walked back to the table like a condemned prisoner.
Marian called Jim several times. She left him messages and he never replied. She said how sorry she was and begged him to call. Jim did not even reply when Marian called and left a message that her grandfather had died from covid.
On the night before the grandfather’s funeral, Marian’s mom was starting to prepare the big meal for the family and guests. The mom told Marian to go up to the rooftop chicken cages and take the last three old hens and prepare them for cooking. Normally, Marian hated having to kill the chickens that she raised from chicks. However, today she quickly rounded up three old, scruffy hens and mechanically went through the steps to snap their necks, drain the blood and prepare the carcasses. She thought nothing of this day or of this job. At the ceremonies the next day, she stared straight ahead and took no interest in the burial services and family meal. Others noticed that Marian was listless and assumed that she was just grieving for her grandfather. Her mother knew better. Marian had been withdrawn for days now. In the middle of the meal, Marian looked up and asked of no one, “I wonder what he is doing right now?” No one heard her comment. After dinner family members all sat on cushions in the living room and talked. Marian took her usual walk through her village and the wind and the dust followed her.
Everyday, Marian got up and helped her mom with chores around the house. She would stand on the balcony and look down on the street or up to the horizon. On some days she’s could watch the hattam desert winds chase the sand across the sky. She would help her mother with the evening beans and pita bread. They had no more chickens. She would go visit the museum cafe on occasion. Normally, the cafe was just empty but there was the occasional rare visitor or intrepid tourist. The owner, Mostafa, and his son operated the cafe now without the help of any staff, like Marian.
Marian asked as she always did when the cafe could rehire her.
Mostafa replied, “I’ll give you the same answer as last time. When the tourists come back, god willing. Until then I have no work. Say, why don’t you go to Hurgadha on the Red Sea? Russians are still going there as long as they stay in the Hurgadha area. There are tourists there on the Red Sea resorts but tourists have to stay in the Red Sea resorts to limit the virus.”
Marian talked over with her family the idea that she would go to Hurgadha. She could stay with her older cousins who would look out for her and take care of her. Her family reluctantly agreed to let her go. She bought a bus ticket for the following week.
She called Jim one last time. She begged him to give her one last chance and that she would not lie again. Marian was yelling into an echo chamber, “I just need to hear your voice!” The only reply to her voice was her own tears.
Marian looked at the sad bus caked with grime: Only the front windshield was clean, because the windshield wipers were used to scrape off the accumulated street filth. Marian reluctantly stepped up and into the bus and took her seat. She looked out of the window as the bus backed out of its parking spot and pulled away. The bus stop was a dollop of concrete urban decay with people swarming to and fro like ants leaving and entering the hive. Surrounding the bus station was a profusion of palm trees, tall bushes, and other greenery hemming in the urban hubbub. Marian observed with the detachment of a neutral witness, the tall bushes with broad flat leaves and fronds of the smaller palm trees were all coated with fine street talc. As the bus pulled out of town, she saw another bus heading towards them. This bright blue bus had a big yellow pyramid on the side encircled by the letters Temple Tours. Marian saw a bus full of Europeans, Americans and Asian with colorful hats and scarves encircled the well scrubbed faces that were all shades of pinkish, beige and brown. The bus parked in the terminal and the giddy tourists clamored out, looking around, talking among themselves. The last to step out of the bus was the driver. He bounded down the steps and greeted the terminal supervisor who was looking down at his clipboard. He hijacked the supervisor’s attention by yelling, “This is the first full bus of tourists in a long time! Many more are coming now, God willing!
The supervisor looked up, and smiled. “We didn’t think you were going to make it.”
The driver replied, “I didn’t think so either. These folks are just the first few. The bus schedule is lined up to start on a regular schedule next week, I’ll be working every day!”