Muqattam, Cairo: a tale of religion, or something like that

I was talking to him, a Muslim, about the 1940s and 50s in Cairo.  He told me that in those days he had a neighbor who was a Christian and another not too far away who was a Jew.  He said that they mingled with his family in the kitchen, picked him up at school when his  parents couldn't get there, vouched for him when he got into trouble. 

But then he shook his head and said that Nasser had done away with all of that.  That the Jews had mostly left after the war.  That those who stayed didn't know each other in the same way.  That everyone now stayed in their own camps.  Suspicious. 

I went with friends to Muqattam, an area in Cairo where Christians lived.  It was filled with garbage.  But they took the garbage and recycled it, making it into something beautiful.  Carpets, bags, stationary. 

 

 
 
 

 
  

 
I wish we could recycle our own tired old ideas about each other.  Muslim, Christian, Jew.  Recycle them.  And make them into something beautiful, too.

Muqattam, Cairo, Egypt: and a tale of the Christian tattoo artist

I was in Egypt, I was in Cairo, I was in Muqattam when I met him.  The tattoo artist. 

He wasn't like other tattoo artists.  Oh no.  You see, he didn't do dragons, or hearts, or fairies.  There were no Chinese symbols or fluttering butterflies, or barbed wire in his repertoire. 

His name was Gerges.  And he was on a Mission. For God.

Lined up in his stall were tidy rows of crosses of all sizes, stamps of the Coptic pope, of Saint George.  Oh you get the idea.

He had an unremitting commitment to his faith, which he expressed in.... well, the most indelible of ways.

The pigments brilliant........

Amir was 22.  He came into Gerges' booth located in front of the church.  I want a tattoo please.  A big tattoo, he said.  I want it right here, he said, tapping on his chest. 

Yes, of course, Gerges answered. And so he started.

 How much for a tattoo, Gerges? I asked.  10 Egyptian pounds, he said.  (About $2. ) For a small one?  I asked.  Small or big, it doesn't matter, he answered .  And if you don't have money, I'll do it for free, he added.

He looked at me then.  Straight in the eyes.  Maryam, would you like one, a tattoo? he said.

Maybe next time, I answered. Thanks Gerges.

Marrakech: and a scary tale. Umm...really.

Oh I know Halloween has come and gone.  But I wanted to show you the cast of characters at Peacock Pavilions.  Frankly, they're downright terrifying.  Yikes, see for yourself.

There's the mad doctor (aka architect husband Chris)

Then there's this confused victim of the mad doctor (aka Todd, Peacock Painter) Ahem, in the pool area of Peacock Pavilions.

Vicious cat girl (aka intern Katie)

Wily sailor girl. (aka intern Medora)

The decor was, well, horrifying.

And there was an autopsy in a haunted house in the basement. 

But the scariest thing of all, by far, was that it was this boy's birthday.  He turned 11, you see.  And it wasn't so much that he was scary.   Because he wasn't really.  But 11 was 11, after all.  And I knew he would be gone soon.  Because he was just a little boy yesterday (I swear).  And now he is............big.

But those are just the confused mutterings of a woman in a Chinese magician's robe.  Or something like that.  (But just in case, grab them and hug them and whisper in their ear that they mean more to you than they can ever know.)

Marrakech: a tale of a Halloween costume

Dear friends,

I thought you might like to see what I wore for the Halloween party at Peacock Pavilions in Marrakech. I went as myself, well.... sort of anyway. 

A 100 year old hand painted Chinese magician's robe, a gift from my father.

An antique Yemeni headscarf.

An Indian bindi on my forehead.

5 agate & silver rings from Mali on 1 hand.

2 dangly coin rings from Rajasthan on the other hand.

Bouvier earrings with a 16th century French poem on them.

*

I wanted to take a picture of this strange and curious outfit.

First, I tried to look serious.

But that didn't suit me.  So then I tried to look like a kitchy vintage Bollywood actress - the kind who are always peeking out of closets, sneaking into rooms  or holding an empty glass to the wall & evesdropping.

 I almost succeeded with that Bollywood thing.  Which made me laugh.

And I ended up looking just like myself.

*

Dress up, be silly, and wangle yourself a trick (or a treat).

Happy Halloween. 

With love from Marrakech,

Maryam