Spirit of a People
by
Cheri Berens
|
People go to Egypt to see the ancient sites or connect with their spirituality. The first time I went to Egypt it was as a professional
dancer. I had no itinerary other than to study the music and dancing. What started as a dancer’s dream trip to Cairo ended up being an
introspective observation of faith, unity and recognition of the necessity of peace and joy.
Cairo can be an overwhelming place. The faces of poverty can sometimes make an American uncomfortable. Disfigurement and
abnormalities often make us turn our heads. Traffic and crowds hindering our pace make us irritable. Beggars can test our patience and
compassion.
Much of my time in Cairo was spent shopping for performance costumes. I spent hours at “Omar’s Haberdashery”. His sign said
“Everything for the Oriental Dancer”. Not only did I find "everything” for dancing, I witnessed the power of inner joy.
While waiting to talk to Omar about prices, I picked up a drum and began playing a simple rhythm. At the sound of the drum, a young man
with a measuring tape around his neck appeared instantly from the back work room. He reached out his hands, wanting the drum. As I
handed it to him, I noticed a facial deformity.
He began playing the drum. I was stunned. I had listened to and studied middle eastern music for twenty-four years. This was incredible
drumming. His hands were moving magically—flat, sideways, fast, slow. His fingers rippled and snapped against the skin of the drum. I
looked at his face. Even more surprised, I saw that his joy had transformed his face into a beautiful, smiling, perfect one, and his eyes
sparkled like stars.
At another shop, I wanted to pay with traveler’s checks, but it was explained that I would have to go to the bank around the corner and
cash them first. The owner pointed to a boy of about 14 and said he would take me. We were in Khan al-Khalili Bazaar, an enormous maze
of tiny shops in small, alley-type streets jammed with people and boisterous shopkeepers. Magnificent smells of perfume oils and exotic
spices floated through the air. The boy took off at a pace so fast I had to jog to keep up with him. Dodging people made it more difficult
to stay close. Suddenly I realized we had made many turns and had gone much further than “around the corner”.
I began to feel concerned at how far we had gone, but I dared not lose him; I would not know how to find my way back. I continued to jog
and dodge the crowd. Finally he stopped in front of an empty alley and waited for me to catch up. I spoke of my concern, but he didn’t
understand or speak English. I followed him into the alley.
He opened a door into an unusually plain building. Inside was a counter and three men behind it. The boy spoke to them in Arabic. The
main man said “passport”. I handed it to him. He said something else, I had no idea what, but knowing I was there to cash checks, I
handed them to him. Everything began to look a little more official, although as I looked around, this certainly was not a bank. It was a
large, empty room with a counter. The man stacked piles of Egyptian pounds onto the counter. I suddenly realized I would be carrying an
enormous amount of cash through the crowded streets. I looked at my young escort. As if sensing my sudden fear, he smiled a giant
reassuring grin.
I thought for a moment about how every phrase I had been hearing either ended or began with thanking God, praising God, or trusting
God. Surely it was and always is in God’s hands. Our spiritual beliefs may differ, yet I felt I certainly shared this feeling of faith, this
oneness with my creator. I smiled back at my young friend.
I spent every day in the city. This meant long taxi rides in and out of Cairo. Most tourists probably don’t spend that much time on the
highways and streets. It was very insightful. I had just visited New York City for a dance workshop the previous week. There, cab drivers
spend much of their energy honking, getting impatient or being angry. After living most of my life in Los Angeles, I can attest that the
annoyed and impatient drivers there have been known to resort to violence.
The enormous growth of population in Cairo has forced the traffic to drive on the dividing lines of the highway. Seeing five tightly
cramped lanes where three should be is quite disconcerting at first. What I saw, though, was a kind of collective consciousness and a
prevailing peaceful attitude.
If someone made an error or cut someone off, instead of irritation or anger, they would more often than not smile at each other, or nod an
acknowledgement of error and apology and receive a smile in return. I began to notice this same attitude in other areas within the
society.
In the face of extreme poverty and overpopulation, I was amazed to see camaraderie and a strong sense of community which included
lots of joy and laughter. I would expect to see this in a village or small town, not in a city of eighteen million people.
I saw someone slip and fall. In our own country, although concerned, we are relieved to see someone else offer help so we can return to
our own hectic pace. Instead, a huge circle of concerned people offered help and remedies. As a collective group, it was decided how
serious it was, and not until it was mutually decided that things were all right did the group disperse, leaving a few people behind to
escort the shaken person. I saw many similar events where concerned strangers lingered and also noticed that the poorest of poor
dropped coins into the beggar’s dish. There was a palpable sense of unity and oneness.
I met a Nubian man who asked the usual questions of where I was from, but he quickly shifted the conversation to his concern of
American opinion. He worried that we do not realize that the majority of Egypt’s millions care about peace with their neighbors and are
peaceful with each other. He feared the media’s attention on the minority would keep us from knowing the peaceful nature of the majority
of the Egyptian people.
I came back to the states to our fast-paced society in which our lives are filled with expensive gadgets. We juggle careers and varied
social activities. We take education for granted. Egyptian life is a slower one. One filled with acceptance and faith—a faith that keeps the
people going in the midst of adversity. They have little as far as material wealth. The average Egyptian earns about $600 a year, yet they
are a rich people aware of their abundant history and heritage.
Like the spirited Arabian horses they cherish, they are alive with their love for life, yet calm and confident and at peace within their
personal boundaries.
COPYRIGHT 1999