The Nile is the central vein, still bumbling along, splitting the land mass unevenly into two vast sprawls of rugged desert. The sharp contrast between the lush, green Nile-side land and harsh, arid desert shocks in its abruptness. Much like the line between spaces populated and deserted. In crowded villages and vast urban areas, humanity seethes and oozes out of every crevice and alleyway but in the vast empty desert, life stops. The air is fresh and the silence more invasive than the strangely comforting cacophony of the cities.
When you first arrive, the sounds keep you awake at night. Donkeys shriek. Horns honk. People yell a lot, whether they’re haggling over the price of something, hollering their destination to a microbus driver or telling a joke. Stay long enough, and the sounds lull you to sleep. There’s always laughter. Everyone feels strangely like family and consequently gets too involved in everyone else’s business for anyone to ever have any privacy, or for anyone to ever really feel alone. God too seems ubiquitous and every other phrase reveals the spirit of Egypt. Hamdulil’allal (thank God), we have what we have. Insha’allah (God willing), it will be better tomorrow. Hamdulil’allah, Egypt is blessed.