“Why Egypt?” I was asked.
“Why not?” my reply - shorthand for “I’m not sure why.”
Like many, though, l’m fascinated by Egypt’s history - the dynasties, the pharaohs and their tombs. And Egypt’s art, medicine, and myths.
Besides, I had an itch to experience something different.
I prepared as best I could by re-visiting Twain,
especially his time in the desert.
I read a bit of T.E. Lawerence’s classic,
but ran out of time,
and watched the movie instead.
Then there was the “real” history
and the story of the French woman who saved much of it.
But like so many things, the more you know, the more you know you don’t know much.
So it was two days from Des Moines to Denver to Munich to Cairo, an overnight by the airport, and a domestic to Aswan.
It was only then that I began to realize what a stranger I was.
My agenda, such as I had one, was to follow the Nile down river (north) to Cairo.
Mohammed picked me up at the starting point, Aswan’s international airport. Mid-forties and single, there was that time when a young woman came from the city to “check things out,” Mohammed included. She didn’t stay long. “There’s no future here,” she told him, and returned home.
Mohammed drove me to the Aswan Ferry Dock, introducing me to Mahmoud, my ferry man to Elephantine Island.
Half Mohammed’s age, Mahmoud is an optimist, believing that “the right Nubian girl is out there waiting for me.”
We skirted the far side of the island,
pulling up to the dock, the Basmatic Nubian Guest House on the hill above.
Evening came quickly, and with it the lovely Nile,
and a conversation with Mufasa, a boatman who serves a wonderful black Nubian tea with mint from his garden.
As we parted, arrangements were made to explore the Nile at sunrise.
I have some sense, now, of why Egypt.
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