Once Upon a Time-
I'd throw my heels in a backpack, along with my stash for the day, and would walk half an hour to work (and home again later), through the beautiful villa-lined back streets of my corner of Cairo - which I'd share with donkey carts, hundreds of school children, cars, rickshaws, busses and more.
Now, I hop into my car and join the masses rushing here and there . . just to drive a few minutes down the street to my workplace.
And NO ONE is to be found outside walking, anywhere.
Once Upon a Time- barefooted, dirty faced children followed me through the streets and to the entrance of the Metro Market . . begging for some change or a hand-out of spare groceries. Crowds of uniform-clad school girls would surround me, often greeting with hand shakes or kisses on alternate cheeks . . eager to practice the few words of English they proudly knew.
Now, I dare NOT talk with a child I don't know, or greet with more than a "Hello" - and I am not allowed to even hug the sweet children I work with each day.
Once Upon a Time- we drove out of the big city (Khartoum) to our orphanage a few times weekly, over rickety bridges that rose just above the powerful Nile waters . . away away . . through desert roads where displaced people lived in houses of sand. . . where we would often stop at Mom and Pop stores to barter for fruit (very rare in those days!), fill our car with kilos of bananas and anything that might have nutritional value for 'our kids.'
We'd be greeted at the gate by starving, brown, happy faces ready to unload the car and begin a day of fun!
Now, during lunch duty days at work, I walk around the cafeteria watching well nourished children linger over trays filled with yummy food and then toss 3/4 of it in the trash can when lunch ends.
Daily, I remember . . . I see the faces of half naked, starving children who would LOVE to eat what falls off of those trays and into our trash cans. . .
Once Upon a Time- in the Winter when the waters were low, my daughter and I would walk down the street to the Nile, past the brick factory and down the embankments - in order to spend the day wading in the sparkling Nile waters with our friends.
What a paradise!
Simple, free pleasures that filled our hearts with such JOY and bonded us with our Sudanese neighbors. Pockets of white sandy beaches cleverly placed by God all around us; horses, donkeys and an occasional monkey bathing in the water; tiny "Nile Taxi" boats floating nationals over to mysterious Tutti Island, lined by palm trees.
Now, our excitement comes from an occasional walk down the street to Dunkin Donuts, for a hot coffee and some sugary treat (I secretly LOVE to go so I can visit the owners - my Gujarati Indian friends- make them laugh with my attempts at speaking Hindi, and where I hope to hear other customers speaking Arabic among themselves!)
Once Upon a Time- though an oppressive 120 degrees outside, I covered my body from head to toe, (wouldn't dare to EVER wear pants) and walked with my dainty lady-shoes through dirt roads to the market . . where sellers would sit by their piles of veggies and challenge me to spend 5 times as much as anyone else for a bag of their rotten tomatoes!
Now, I hop across the highway to Shop Rite where I walk into a temperature controlled environment, fill my cart easily with any fruit or veggies I want,
and STILL PAY TOO MUCH for them. :O)
Once Upon a Time- I used to walk up and down six flights of stairs (a few times a day) to and from our little paradise at the top of the world in our corner of Cairo, in a building without an elevator.
Once a month, I would put rent money in a basket, secure it under a large rock, and let it down down down through the window, skillfully past the top of the trees, to where my landlord (who refused to walk up those stairs even once monthly) would take his money and replace it with a receipt, written in sloppy Arabic.
NOW, I am not allowed to pay my rent in cash, or personal check! I must go online and transfer money from my account to the company that owns my apartment complex.
I don't even know who my landlord is!
Once Upon a Time- "visiting friends" meant trusting a taxi driver to take me on narrow roads, around frightening mountain cliffs, and down through breathtaking valleys . .. to bombed out buildings riddled with bullet holes, where families made their homes in whatever remains they could find of once luxurious buildings. I found more warmth of family, comfort and hospitality in those shells of a building they'd call home .. than anywhere else since! (Lebanon)
Once Upon a Time, a day wouldn't go by without the neighborly aroma of Arabic Coffee and fragrances of Shi Sha smoke filling the air!
Now, while I'm surrounded by people, I couldn't tell you what the inside of the homes of most of my neighbors look like, or their names . . and I share walls with them!
Once Upon a Time . . .I lived in a land of stairways; stairways that would take me anywhere I needed to go. Some, would wind from my the door of my building, down through neighborhoods and across back alleyways . . to the heart of the great city of Amman; where thousands of people lines the streets, men with large ornate devices on their backs would fill a cup with tea for you; where life would pause when the call to prayer sounded . . so that hundreds of men could face Mecca, remove their shoes, kneel and bow with faces to the ground, in united prayer.
Where . . . your journey's end would lead you to the impressive remains of an ancient amphitheater - where the past and the present come together still, in joyous celebration!
OH the richness of these memories.
Oh to be able to say with the Apostle Paul,
"I have learned to be content in every circumstance! . . "
How thankful I am to even have these conflicting realities to share with you, today.
Blessings and the peace of Christ to you.
Nancy
