Close to Home

Earlier today Martha sent me the link to this article about the recent bombing in Cairo. It brought back a lot of memories. The square where the bomb exploded is a place I have visited literally dozens of times. I've had drinks in those cafes and walked in front of that mosque so many times. In fact, Khan al-Khalili was one of my favorite cultural points of Cairo. (Due to the constant harassment, I can't really say it was one of my "favorites" places but boy, did we ever find bargains there!) It is completely touristy yet back in the tiny alleys and dark corners, it is completely Egyptian. I knew several shop owners there and visited them frequently. And always drank a Bebsi with them.

The photos I've seen perfectly reflect my former home. I have so many pictures of me and my friends and family standing in the exact same spot where that bomb exploded. It's all so familiar and doesn't feel far away at all. Perhaps the most interesting thing is that, like the author of the article, I very rarely felt unsafe. Of course, the tourists that were attacked felt safe as well, which proves that no one ever knows his time. And that "safety" is a relative word. And that humans are completely unable to fully protect themselves. Sure, we keep trying trying trying, but it's simply impossible.

I told a friend just this week that the irony I find living in America is that I was nearly never scared when I lived in the Middle East. (Yes, I was scared the time my family and I took a desert "safari" and I seriously thought we were all going to die in the desert with those two crazy Egyptian teenagers driving us around in that Land Rover.) I just had peace about it. I knew that if I were to die in a random bombing, then I would die knowing I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. My fear began when I realized I would have to live in America again. Anxiety here is a completely new thing for me. The place that is supposed to be "safe" is the thing that gives me the most anxiety. This is probably one of the hardest things for me to explain when someone asks me about living in the Middle East.

But it's good to be reminded. And to be thankful for the relative safety we have in America where there are usually no bombs going off when we go to worship or go to a cafe. And to remember the Egyptians/Lebanese/Palestinians/Iraqis that live with these bombings as an everyday thing.