I still remember the moment I touched down in Charles de Gaulle Airport, ready and eager to break out into my first taste of the developed world, my heart catching my throat with the gentle bump as rubber hit tarmac. Exchanging my money and buying a metro ticket, I was relieved, yes, relieved, reading, hearing, and speaking French and not Arabic. I realized at that moment, in an instant of relief, that I've developed a subconscious complex of associating Arabic with an uneasy knot of tension in my stomach that I never experienced before living in Egypt for the past 7 months. I was never more ready to "Veuillez patienter" than at that moment. As I walked up the wet, slippery stairs and emerged into the darkness of a dead Paris morning, I stalked the Seine, a deafening silence ringing in my ears. Where were all the people? Where was that watchful Eye always pinned on my back? "People are sleeping, and besides, you look like everyone else," whispered my conscience to my over-heightened sense of self-awareness (or paranoia?). "Just relax, no one's watching you." In the city where "le regard" was philosophized, it was the place I first discovered that no one really knew what that really meant until they've left. For the first time in 7 months, I realized that I was Free from the Gaze. I was free to exist anonymously, a luxury I hadn't realized I enjoyed. As I puttered towards the Eiffel Tower, I realized in that moment how lucky I was. Though Egypt is miserable, I am learning and experiencing so much. All the "hard stuff". Who could say that they have the linguistic capacity and free time to tour Paris on a layover? Or even Egypt? I reflected, and somewhere along the Qauy de Branly, a tear fell from my eye. Then another. I cried. I was free. This oscillation between thankfulness, ecstatic happiness, and relief was tearing my mind to shreds. Under the glow of a street light in the bitter slush under a starless, ice blue morning glow, I had my Moment. I felt again, everything that I had bottled up inside that I never knew I was down there. Survival mode melted away in the quiet darkness. I felt so alive. It was absolutely beautiful. I've never been resurrected in my life. I'll never forget first taste of Emotion.
Coming home was an enlivening experience. I eagerly sat in the Lansing train station for a layover, just listening to the drama (I never realized that the place doubled as a homeless community center). I felt something unexpected as I sat there pretending to read. A skill that I developed while in Egypt turned on. Am I going to be harassed soon? What's going to happen when they realize I'm sitting next to where they're arguing? What things will they say to me? How will I respond? Should I move? How old are they (their age determines their relative maturity level and the offensive level of their comments)? Should I respond with body language or bitting Arabic. Flash to reality, to the present, and to the situation at hand. No, no one was paying attention to me. I look like everyone else. Every is speaking English. Those cigarettes they're fighting over will not turn into a harassing episode in my direction. I'm not a foreign object, an amoeba polluting the delicate balance of conformity that I am in Egypt. As the dispute was escorted outside by the security guards, I couldn't believe how my mind was functioning, even 3 days in. I watched people to see if they would stop and stare at me, make comments about me, gesture towards me. I listened for the word "agnaby" (foreigner). Nothing. People walked past me, completely disinterested. No harassment. Bliss.
Seeing my family again was absolutely momentous. Yes, momentous. From the moment I hopped into Pat's Blazer to the second I barged through the door and hugged my sister, elation, relief, love, and familiar smells, sights, and sounds flooded my weary mind, neutralizing every last drop of tension, frustration, confusion, and contempt. I looked at the Christmas tree and its mesmerizing lights twinkling against the darkness of the bay window. I was dreaming. Who would have thought that such a simple sight would bring so much inner calm?
I realized that I had started to feel guilty and undeserving of happiness while in Egypt. With so many people suffering, starving, and tired, what was I? I was from a rich country that is not plagued by such poverty. There was no war. People talked about where they were going for dinner, what movies were playing, or calories. Such things seemed so trivial when compared to political oppression, unchecked police brutality, wondering if one will eat dinner. I could never know for sure what people were staring at me for. How did they think I was different? The only obvious answers I came up with was they were assuming so much about me, my lifestyle, my country, and my People based on my clothes, my Ipod, my stance, the way I hailed cabs, the way I walked, the fact that I laughed. I couldn't laugh in the street without someone mocking me. I had stopped laughing and smiling. I began to feel like no matter what I did, I would not be left alone. The staring was growing on me, but every time I said it was fine, it would be followed by some group bullying, shouting at me in broken English, small stones, or a cupped hand over another's ear while staring into my soul. Around the corner, it always seemed, was an amused and condescending "aye dah? (what is that?). I was a "what", or a "foreigner". Not a "who", not a "person". I realized the way I looked at humanity was different; I was taught differently. Though far from equality being a universally applicable concept in every nook and cranny of American society, it is the best example that the world has to follow, even considering Europe, and definitely considering Egypt. I see people as people, always looking for happiness, self-fulfillment, beings driven by self-preservation in the areas of life, education, love, and friendship. I believe people deserve the right to be anonymous, their personal space left free from the watchful eyes of others. People have the right to dress however they want, cover their hair, leave it bare, laugh out loud, be offered the same services for the same prices. I realize people are not directly responsible for the policies of their government. I realize that I am not an expert about another people, or about everything for that matter. Egyptians, however, in the most general terms and in my daily casual contact with them, do not believe in these things. Equality slips under the radar.
Ending my time in the U.P., I was violently pulled back to my own reality. I realized that my obvious preference and inclination to the principles with which I was raised, are the best for me. I should not feel like the target of these feelings of animosity towards what Egyptians call "the West". I was not responsible for their government's oppression that kept the education system weak and people ignorant and unfortunately uneducated. I realized that it was this burden, this feeling of undeserving of happiness that I endured for so long was going to destroy me if I continued this when I went back. My pride had taken a blow, but I realize it is still in tact. I still have my "sharaf" (Honor). I can't help from where I come, and I'm sure proud of it. I don't treat people like they are beneath me, and it's this sense of dignity and equality that I will take back with me to Egypt for the next 5 months. Feeling this oppression is a small scale, a different scale and measurement, of what the average Egyptian lives on a daily basis. Though I'm an amoeba, neutralization and release will be soon at hand.
After this reality check, I know I'm not alone, that there's a whole life over here that I have the rest of my life to appreciate. Missing it for a few more months with this new perspective will help me persevere. I could never have realized this until after coming back home for Christmas; Egypt was becoming my reality. I can't let it.
It only took me a pack of 200 christmas bulbs and the warmth of family to remind me of who I am and what I passionately want to accomplish in my Life.
Merry Christmas.
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