Cairo's Balconies

Cairo’s balconies offer peaceful oasis, removed from the chaos of the streets below. Protected in a nest of cool green,  I watch as the micro busses, held together with wire, electrical tape and a prayer, spewing exhaust and waves of workers from a poverty we cannot begin to imagine. Safely hidden, I sip my morning coffee and watch.

And they come, sounds of tattered flip-flops and low deep voices waft up. Most in faded gallabeyas, young and old alike. A few young swagger in jeans washed by a mother’s hands in a bucket that she hauled from a community spout. Each carries a plastic bag with a piece baladi bread and some foul for their short lunch under a tree. Hot, sweet tea and cigarettes for sufficing for dessert. No fancy burger or sushi in an air-conditioned cafe. Every day of their life. And yet they laugh.

They come to wash our fruit and vegetables that they will only taste if over ripe or spoiled. They are the delivery boys on rickety bikes who hoist boxes of water on their thin shoulders or carry plastic bags filled with our groceries in each hand... trudging up countless stairs in the suffocating heat...tor 50cents... departing with a grateful smile and a heartfelt Shukran.

They never look up as walk by, oblivious to the wealth overhead. I guess they know they will never sit on such a balcony with their tea and friends. I cringe with shame.

Cairo, 2010