Cairo Article

The following article was written upon request for El Dustour newspaper:

Cairo

I look down a lot in this country. And I've managed to fix my eyes on a steady nowhere point, somewhere alatool. My journeys to and from engagements are unsmiled and I worry about frown lines; which seems like a double concern. If words from others were truth then I must be a million litres of eshta and a bears' heaven of 3asal. Sometimes I want to stroll, be aimless, glance about me - but I know if I do so that men will be there; in my vista. Sometimes I think it would be lovely to sit on a bench or patch of grass but being Solo is just a loser's Internet name and doesn't exist here. I am now at such a proficiency level of Poker Face I could give tutorials. I have even ignored my own dates. Subjected to sonic assaults from horn honking kerb crawling car drivers and followed at the speed of darkness; a good mood can quickly turn.

After eight months in this country I now notice how tight some bint's pants are. I stare at crotches along with the men. I spot a Maqsum rhythm on a petulant higab girl as she walks down the street. I consider bare calves to be risqué unless it's Zamalek and then who knows I might even smoke on the street.

I have never known so many people ask me if I was married; it even beats the interest from the Greek grandmothers of Ancient Corinth in my fallen youth surged hobo days.

In a NOW city, nostalgia has a paradoxical high altar. 'Wahashteny!', 'I AM WAITING FOR U' (Caps Lock intended). SMS and FB, systems of denial to available meetings. Sex is lusted over but post ejaculation the space is haram filled. When somebody says they are liberal here it is a byword for 'I'll fuck you but I'll marry my cousin'.

I love Cairo. Oh, the L word. Did I mean it? I have a relationship with Cairo that has been beyond the torrid affairs and heartbreak of being a paradigm that some Egyptian male cannot fit into his culturally programmed unconscious. I'm still here. I'm still here drinking Stella in Horreya, I'm still here eating fuul in Kazazz, I'm still here sipping tea at Takei3ba, I'm still here careering in taxis through this dirty, beautiful, crazy city, I'm still here getting sweaty on the Metro, I'm still here beyond repetition of a phrase and unlike the sentence construction I'm not yet worn out. Cairo is at the casino table with me and we are playing our cards pretty even handed.

I'm like Mr Magoo, seeing smiles in the lion's den or maybe there just aren't any real Big Cats, or the jinns are playing tricks. Who knows, it's 1 am and I'm drinkingand as long as this town is good to me I'll keep on its arm.