39. Cairo, 1997 — One door closes

In which Eleanor says goodbye. Again.

Feb 13, 2025

Cairo has captured Eleanor's soul. But its still time to move on.

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Eleanor

Dear Meredith

As I write you’re on your way to London. I’m so sad we’re missing each other by two days in South Africa. I hope you have a fantastic trip. I expect a long newsy letter from you when you get back!

I’m in a contemplative mood as I sit down to write this my last letter to you from Cairo. This crazy, chaotic, never boring city truly has become home. It’s the polar opposite of proper, genteel Pretoria. I think I’m going to miss it terribly.

Remember how I was in raptures over Cairo when I first arrived? Raptures have deepened to something richer, more abiding. The more I’ve come to know of this city, the more I see how I’ve barely scratched the surface. Even after two years here I am constantly discovering new things in Cairo: it's like a great treasure hunt, with gems tucked away in the most unlikely of places. One will be walking along a street and suddenly find oneself in the middle of a funeral, or a religious festival, or a wedding.

And really, Cairo is so much more than a city. It’s a living, breathing, complex, paradoxical being in its own right. It has its own heartbeat. It has its own voice. It has its own moods. It can go from sultry and brash, to mysterious and beguiling—in the space of a few hours. It goes from the spine-shivery call of the muezzin rising over the city, to the get-up-and-dance music blasting from the shared taxis, to the whispering winds of the desert.

Cairo has captured a part of my soul. Leaving truly does feel like I’m leaving a part of myself behind.

And I’m leaving friends behind too. I wonder which friendships will endure over time, and which ones will just fade into the background? Already from University, apart from you, there are really only a handful of people I keep in somewhat regular contact with now.

Thinking of University, do you remember that conversation we had in your bedroom, when I said I didn’t know how you had the courage to go to protests and you said it takes less courage than you think, especially when you’re with a group of friends? And then you said the bravest thing to do is not to go to protests, but to look inside your own heart and see the darkness in there, and shine the light on that rather than pretend it isn’t there?

I love Cairo, dearly, and I’ve definitely had dark moments here. I’ve had to shine some light into some dark places, too. I’m being a bit cryptic, I know. Maybe one day I’ll pluck up the courage to tell you. I’m not there yet. And there are times when I have been desperately, achingly, lonely and have felt so very, very far away from dear ones.

Themba and Tlali have been my lifeline whenever I’ve gotten myself into some silly dark place over Arabic, or loneliness or whatever. It’s just hard to stay feeling glum when they play chase, and as they go tearing around the corner of the corridor, lose their footing on the wooden floor and spin out like race cars, their little legs working frantically trying to get purchase. They crash into each other, become a ball of wrestling fur, then resume the chase, up and over and through the dining room chairs, and sofa—and me! The furniture and my lap are just one delightful jungle gym to them.

Even as I write now, Tlali is headbutting me, gnawing on my pen and demanding a lap and scratches. If I’m on the computer checking email, they march all over the keyboard and paw at the cursor on the screen. Eventually they settle down, like Tlali is now, on my lap or on top of something that I actually need, their little purrs roaring like little lions. I’m so relieved they’re going to Wendy for the month I’m in South Africa. She adores them as much as I do.

Okay, back to idle musings. You always did like a good philosophy discussion! But more seriously, thank you for indulging me. I’ve a need to empty my head to someone so that I can get some sleep tonight…!

Something else I’m reflecting on tonight is what it’s like to be a foreigner. You’re not expected to fit in, because you don’t, and so weirdly you land up having this freedom to see and do things that locals would never dream of doing. We’ve landed up seeing parts of Cairo and Egypt that our teachers say they’ve never been to, and doing things they’ve never done. When you just are the foreigner wherever you go, you can go anywhere—because you’re not limited by belonging somewhere. In some ways I feel like I’ve had more freedom to explore here in Cairo than in South Africa.

Another thing that I’ve come to appreciate is just how ancient Egypt is—but it’s an alive ancient, not a dead, history-book ancient. What is it that Faulkner says—“The past is never dead. It's not even past”? You really feel that here. Egyptians have incredible pride in their history. It’s not something dead and in the past. It’s something alive, and real, and now. The pyramids are not something in a text book—they’re in their, literal, backyard. Egyptians know how far back they go—that they were a great civilization while the rest of us were basically still cave-dwellers.

And if you really want to insult an Egyptian, call them Arab. Oh boy—that is practically the worst thing you can call an Egyptian. They outright despise the Saudi’s, even while they are very happy to take as much money off them as they can. To Egyptians, Saudi’s are ignorant, uncivilized, arrogant hicks, with only their oil (and their money) to recommend them.

Nor, interestingly, do Egyptians think of themselves as African. Egypt might be on the African continent, but it is not African. It is Egypt. And its history and civilization is wholly separate from—and better than—Africa. It’s been fascinating to listen to the Ambassador and Magda share their frustrations and insights as they try to get Egypt to align with Africa as a block on some issues. It’s a constant challenge.

In short, Egypt is not a land or a country that can be easily categorized. It is itself, first and foremost. And even the poorest fellaheen (villager) in the fields takes pride in being an Egyptian, with all that means in terms of history and civilization.

OK, my brain feels empty enough now, and my eyelids are drooping. Soon enough I’ll have all new stories to regale you with.

I hope you have a fantastic time in London while I bore myself to tears in Pretoria for a month. Yawn. But I am looking forward to spending time with Henry again. He’s such a loveable scamp. He drives us all demented with his unruliness, and yet he has such a sweet, caring nature too, you just can’t stay mad at him for long.

All my love,

Elle