Final Dispatch From The Desert (#7)

The last day here is always the hardest day here. I am not very good at saying good-bye, and that's especially so when I am saying good-bye to someone I love, someone I may not see again. I come because my father is elderly, and when I leave, it's always with the hope that I will return to see him again, and to see this country which I love so much.

The one good thing which happened today was that Horace turned up. One of my little visitors spent the night last night with her Mama, the cook. (Yes, her foot is still broken, but she had the cast removed, and came back to work the other day.) When Azhar came to ask if there was anything she could do to help me (we communicate in sign language, and I use the few words of Arabic I have learned), Hagar, age 3, walked right into my room, and right to one of the sofas. Her Mama was trying to talk to me, but Hagar was so focused I was sort of watching her, wondering what she was doing. What she was doing was pulling Horace out of his hiding place. She had taken a tissue off the table, and wrapped him carefully, and put him to bed under the cushions of the sofa, just at the center where they meet. He emerged from his long nap safe and sound. As I watched, she removed his "blanket" and set him on the table with my things. She speaks very well, but she is afraid of me, so I just said "Shukran" (Thank you) to her when she rescued him. She gave me the funny look she always gives me, and turned around and walked away. Her Mama didn't even notice, and wondered why I was saying "thank you." I didn't try to explain. I did, however, learn a valuable lesson. When searching for things which may have been moved by children, get down on the floor--the world looks very different when you're only 2 feet tall.

So, I am at least happy I won't be traveling alone. Silly, the power of one little frog. But maybe my affection for him is good. Maybe it means I am still young at heart, and haven't become too adult. Maybe it means nothing.

I was so happy I took several photos of Horace, posing here and there. I chose to post the one of him investigating a veritable relic: an actual pull-tab can of Coca Cola. They still have those here. I had to force myself not to save the tabs this year--I saved a bunch last year, and even more the year before. Perhaps that's another sign of being young at heart. Or, perhaps I am full of shit.

Whatever I may be, one thing is certain: in 6 hours, I will be on my way to Cairo International Airport, and in 10 hours, I will be on a plane for Amsterdam. That leaves me with very little to say, except for maybe this:

"Open your heart, I'm coming home..."

~Pink Floyd, "Hey You"