… but I know it was really an Egyptian motorcycle. Then again, I’m counting six passengers here, and I never saw more than five on a motorcycle in Egypt. Perhaps it is a taxi after all.

Traffic in Cairo is appalling . More than four million cars, and no palpable traffic law enforcement.

Brent has written about his adventures riding in some of Cairo’s estimated 80,000 taxis , many of which are 40 years old. Nadia came in to work one day and announced, “I just saw 12 people die” in a minibus crash.

Sesame Street has pitched in to try to stem the tide of death. New laws have recently been passed .

Awareness is increasing, but the results are perhaps not quite as intended, as we witnessed while driving on the Ring Road one day:

We saw a driver putting on his seat belt. He used both hands to pull the safety belt around him. That meant he had both hands off the steering wheel as he accelerated away from the curb across eight lanes of traffic.

A motorcyclist strapped on his helmet using both hands. He chose to do this while entering the freeway and simultaneously balancing a briefcase on his lap as he accelerated.

Ben spoke to an Egyptian colleague who said that nothing will really change until the fathers change their own driving style and teach road safety to their children. Maybe instead of Sesame Street, safety progams should be broadcast during football halftime?

As anti-smoking legislation in the US, UK, and Australia becomes more stringent, smokers looking for a warm welcome need look no further than Egypt.

When we visited El-Borg , we wanted to eat at the fully-enclosed restaurant near the top of the tower. I circled the premises to find a non-smoking table.

Every table had an ashtray, so I asked a waiter.

He replied, “Sure, any table you like. Smoking or non-smoking. You don’t have to smoke. Here at our restaurant, it is as you like it!”

Culture Shock! Egypt says that it is incredibly rude to display the soles of your feet to another person. I dutifully memorised this fact before arriving.

Once I had walked the streets of Egypt, I needed no prompting! Nothing prepared me for the grime that accumulates when I wear sandals on my walks around Maadi.

Jesus washed his disciples’ filthy feet. That moment in history means a lot more to me now.

Arabic is a fascinating language. Spoken Arabic in one Arabic-speaking country is different from the Arabic spoken in any other Arabic-speaking country. Often, people from two such countries will speak to each other in a second language, such as English, in order to communicate.

Written Arabic is static. It is the language of the Koran and anyone who reads Arabic in one country can read it in another. Arabic symbols are unlike the characters we use in the West, and they are also read in the opposite direction – from right to left.

Moving from Arabic to written English, a complication arises – spelling. Vowel sounds are often not explicit in written Arabic. Instead, vowels are inferred from the surrounding consonants. Thus, to use the example in my previous post , koshari can also be spelled koshary or kushari or kushary. Koran is also written, Qur’an .

The confusion extends to road signs – we learned quickly that our English-language Cairo A-Z was only really useful for foreign language road names, like “Avenue de las Americas.” You could even find several different spellings for the same city as you passed different signs on the same road. For instance: Kattameya and Qattameya.

Early in his stint in Egypt, Ben had a discussion with an Egyptian colleague about how to spell the colleague’s Arabic name in English. It’s a good question. Arabic letters ‘A’ ‘M’ ‘R’ could be spelled Amhar, Amro, or just Amr (difficult for a native English speaker).

I think the ambivalence over spelling is part of the ‘mafeesh mushkela’ (no problem) culture. Eef you kan understend whut I rite, dus it metter how I spel it?

Koshari is an Egyptian national dish – a tasty and filling combination of rice, chickpeas, lentils, and elbow macaroni, garnished with crispy fried onions, garlic sauce, and/or chili sauce.

The dish is also incredibly inexpensive. A high end restaurant will charge 20 EGP , and Arzak , a fast-food restaurant, charges 5.5 EGP . Downtown Cairo, at a hole-in-the-wall place, you might be asked to pay only 2 or 3 EGP for a steaming hot bowl of food that will fill a grown man.

You can see why some people are addicted !

Although I have found several recipes online , nowhere have I been able to locate the story of how the dish came to be. So we’ll just have to go with what Ben’s Egyptian friend Atef told him shortly before we left.

Imagine a poor Egyptian woman with a big bowl. She knocks on her neighbor’s door and asks if her neighbor has anything left after her meal. ‘A scoop of rice,’ is the reply. It goes in the bowl. The Egyptian woman knocks on the next door and adds chickpeas to her bowl. Then lentils. Some macaroni. The bowl is full now and the woman returns to her own house, where she makes flavorful sauces from garlic, onions, chilis, amd tomatoes. The leftovers are transformed into a tasty dish which fills her family.

Voila – koshari !

Fasting takes many forms. Before moving to a predominantly-Muslim country, I had thought fasting meant going without food. Not necessarily!

For Muslims, fasting during Ramadan means going without food and water while the sun is shining. Work slows almost to a halt during this month, as many people switch to snoozing on the job and being awake during the night to maximize their eating opportunities. I would never have guessed, but Ramadan fasting is treated like a celebration, rather than an act of self-sacrifice or denial. It felt to me like a dusty version of the Christmas season in the West: employers are expected to pay employees extra and gifts of non-perishable food items are especially appreciated. Many Muslims gain weight during Ramadan . So fasting, at least for Cairo Muslims, seems to involve less work, more pay, and more food than usual.

For Egyptian Christians, known as Coptic Christians, fasting is a way of life, encompassing on average four days per week. Strict fasts, without food or water, are observed when possible, but for most Copts, fasting amounts to a vegan diet . Options include cooking vegetables in oil and/or adding salt to the vegetables before they eat them.

With all this fasting going on around us, it was a privilege to have a Christian friend who is a 21st century prayer warrior and who often fasts in conjunction with praying. This person’s example inspired others, and it is very clear that he hears from God. Our friend’s rules for a fast were a bit flexible, but I think they boiled down to: eat nothing, do not drink caffeine or milk, do drink fruit juices and water. (He also advised starting small, like fasting from eating chocolate.) And of course, do spend extra time praying! Our friend would often fast for specific reasons, eg to lift up a terminally ill friend, or to ask for guidance in a certain matter. Length of fast would range from skipping a single meal to a 24-hour period, a week, or even 40 days of fasting.

The self-discipline and canceling of food-related distractions are not a magic formula but rather a tool to help our prayer lives. Living in the Middle East made this spiritual discipline seem much more accessible and relevant to me.

Speech in Cairo is peppered with ” Inshallah ,” which can be loosely translated, “God willing.”

There are many ways in which this phrase is used, such as, “We plan to camp in the desert this weekend, Inshallah.”

But you really don’t want to hear your plumber say “Inshallah,” when you ask him if he is coming tomorrow.

And you really really don’t want to see pedestrians take the Inshallah approach to crossing an eight lane highway in front of you.

We saw so much unsafe behavior, which leads to tragic maiming, disabling, and loss of life.

The Bible says not to make plans without taking God into account ( James 4:13-15 ).

The Bible also says not to put God to the test ( Deuteronomy 6:16 ). This is the scripture Jesus quoted when Satan tempted him to a reckless jump. To me, this is the balance that is lacking in the fatalistic use of Inshallah we saw in Cairo.

‘Twas the day before Christmas, and up in the house
something larger was stirring than even a mouse.

Up on the roof as Brent went up the stair
Two men stood smoking, a well-dressed pair.
Another was busy inside Brent’s room
All three were surprised to see him that noon.

The men wore suits, no repairmen they
What could have brought them on Christmas Eve Day?

As Brent looked on, the men left their chore
Climbing onto the roof and down through next door.
From that moment on, Brent noticed one flap
of his A/C unit turned this way, not that.

Curiously Brent embarked through our flat
At least one other unit had been ‘treated’ like that

Brent worked at the church, was several times followed home
His work and his rest to authorities were known.
So curious were the powers that be,
They wanted to hear, not simply to see.

It was a good thing Brent saw them that day
We knew from then on to watch what we say.

Egypt is not a clean place. Maadi is particularly plagued with “too many dusting” as Nadia puts it. If the wooden floors in my apartment are not mopped for two days, the bottoms of my bare feet grow dark. Outside our flat, everything is coated with soot and dirt. I suspect that Australian customs will destroy the begrimed Birkenstocks I’ve worn every day here.

Rather than wipe my kids down with antibacterial cleaners, I have taken a relaxed approach to dirt. We wash after toileting, before eating, and during a scrubby bath at the end of the day. I supply excellent nutrition in the form of breastmilk and homemade baby foods, leaving out sugar and other additives that can reduce resistance to disease.

My two kids have each been ill once – they and I caught the same 24-hour stomach bug.

Accepting the dirt and eating well has been a winning combination for us. It really is more important what’s on the inside than what we see on the outside.