The House

A small narrow street in one of the ancient quarters in Cairo, it had its history and was once the place of choice of the top society, nowadays it lost its grandeur and was downgraded to one of the poorest places in Cairo.

 

Walking along the littered street, with small shops on both sides, the grocery shop, the man who sells some fruits on a small carriage pulled by a donkey, the small shop that irons clothing and the small bakery.

 

Inside the bakery, you find, Hassanein, the Owner, he sits there gazing at the workers with an intimidated gaze, deeply concentrating on what they are doing, or seemingly so. Actually his mind is miles away, he just wants the worker to think he is concentrating to drive them to work fast. But unfortunately, all the workers know exactly what he is doing. And as he is pretending to watch them, they pretend to work.

 

 

The Father

In the corner, in a small stuffy office … well actually a make-shift office, it is a small curve in the shop with a counter and a wooden wall with a small door.

 

Inside the office you find Mohamed, fifty three years old, he is occupied with balancing the books for the small bakery shop, in this heat, he is actually the only one concentrating on his job. Not out of honesty but just out of rush … he wants to get things done and go home. If he hurries, he might find time to have dinner and then go to bed. He has to wake up really early to catch the bus to work. Although it is the company’s bus, it is the company’s policy that busses don’t wait for anyone, and if he missed the bus then he would have to commute three times in order to reach work, not to mention the money he will have to pay, which is better saved for something else.

 

Mohamed got married at the age of twenty two, the daughter of their neighbors, chosen for him by his mother. He did not object, to tell the truth he saw her a couple of times and he thought she was pretty. Also, he wanted to get married, he wanted to have sex and he did not want to anything “haram” against the decrees of religion.

 

But with sex of course came children, and before he knew it he had five children and he had to work like a dog two jobs, to feed and clothe them. Not to mention education and the many other things they demand … he is not only requested to put food in the table and a roof over their heads, under the roof there should be a computer, coloured television, satellite, internet connection, mobiles and the list keeps getting longer and longer every day.

 

Although Mohamed worked in one of the biggest companies in Egypt, he was a small clerk in the accounting department, the same position he held for the past twenty eight years. And although he was loyal, honest and hard working, his meager salary did not grow much over the years, just a few bucks each year, nothing substantial … and with each raise, the prices of everything else rose as well, but at a higher speed.

 

Mohamed glanced up at the three stories house in front of the bakery shop, their small apartment is on the second level and he can see the light on the balcony … his wife must still be working at her sewing, the poor woman never takes a rest. But he was quite sure that she wouldn’t have started sewing before she had prepared him a nice warm dinner, he was so hungry he felt his stomach grumble. This was incentive enough to have him go back to his books and concentrate, the sooner he is out of here the better.

 

"Life is sure hard" he sighs.

 

 

The Mother

Fawzeya, Mohamed’s wife is bent on her sewing machine, she chose to sit in the balcony to catch the night breeze, it is stifling inside the house and the kids are making too much noises, all at once the television is on showing an English movie with subtitles that she cannot possibly follow, and the radio cassette is blasting with a new song, and a very loud game is on the computer.

 

Fawzeya was like any other girl in the neighborhood, she went to school, finished high school and went to a small institute for two years for social studies, she was not bright at school, she did not get the necessary marks to make her illegible to any college, and she was not really interested in college. She believed in what her mother has told her since she was a toddler, a woman’s destiny is to get married and have children.

 

And she did that, she got married and she had children. And she was not unhappy about it, although life was tough and money was scarce, her husband was a nice decent man who tried his best to provide for her and their children.

 

And she helped whenever she could, she is always sewing clothes for the women and children in their neighborhood, with the occasional alterations that her customers require when they buy a new dress or skirt for themselves or trousers for their children.

 

She sighed as she stood over the railing, down at the end of the street, she could see her eighteen old son, Hussein, standing with his friends, laughing and joking … they were leering at a girl passing by, no doubt they were throwing obscene words at her, by the slow pace of the girl, it is quite obvious that she does not hate what she is hearing. Fawzeya remembered when she was their age, she liked it when someone whistled at her in the street, although no one ever said half of what is said today … my god, she still blushes when her husband whispers how sexy she looks in her ears.

 

"Yet," she says to herself "life could be so hard sometimes."

 

 

The Son

Hussein stood with his friends whistling at the girl in tight jeans and revealing blouse that was passing by, walking deliberately slow to hear as much as she can. One of Hussein’s friends said something about her breasts and Hussein commented on how sexy her ass looks.

 

The girl smiled at them, tossed her hair and walked away. She was not particularly beautiful, but he and his friends would whistle at anything remotely feminine passing by, that was sort of their entertainment, a way to pass the night.

 

What else are they going to do, they have no money and the only thing to do is to stand around the corner, sometimes they whistle at girls and sometimes they fight the kids from around the corner.

 

 

Hussein was in his last year of school, soon he will finish and join a college … probably the faculty of commerce, along with one thousand other students who join that faculty each year. The faculty does not require high degrees and it is a simple four years course. He does not really care, any faculty will do, he knew that he will come out of the faculty as ignorant as he went in. It’s the same as in school, beyond learning how to read and write, there is nothing else that he can honestly say he got from school. Hussein even discovered that the books he is studying are the same books that were represented to his father … he could not believe that in more than twenty years, the education curriculum did not undergo one change or upgrade. Not one look or revision from those who are responsible.

 

No wonder he is not interested.

 

Hussein’s mobile rang, the newest song in the marked he prided himself that he always put the best songs and images on his mobile phone, he was a very avid follower of all the newest hits and clips in the market, singers and songs were the main entertainment for Hussein and his friends.

 

It was Dina … Hussein smiled, feeling a tingling in his loins.

 

Hussein had another entertainment, a more interesting one … sometimes, late at night, he would sneak to their neighbor’s balcony, where their daughter lies in wait for him, and she takes him to her bedroom, she is seven years older than he is, divorced with a two years old boy.

 

Dina was not particularly beautiful, plain would be a more suitable word, but she taught him everything he knew about sex. She was his first and his only one so far.

 

He looked at his watch, it was almost midnight, the time she hurriedly whispered to him on the stairs today. Her parents were spending the night in the country side, taking her son and her fifteen years old sister with them … they will have the house to themselves, and he will use the door this time, he just has to make sure that no one sees him going in.

 

Soon enough Hussein excused himself and headed towards their building, he stole a glance at the balcony to ensure that his mother is not looking. He was in luck, earlier he could see her leaning out of the balcony, but now she is back inside and he can hear the sewing machine.

 

He climbed the stairs two at a time, it was not only because he was afraid someone would see him, he was also really aroused with the expectations of spending the big part of the night in Dina’s arms. He could feel her body beneath him already.

 

He knocked at her door softly, she was waiting for him, the door opened swiftly and he slipped inside.

 

As he disappeared in Dina’s flat he thought he managed to escape undetected, but unfortunately someone saw him.

 

His eldest sister, Hanan, saw him, she was dusting the carpet, nagged by her mom and after a screaming match succumbed, stole herself away from the computer and came out to dust the carpet on the stairs. She’s been at it for quite sometime and was just about to get back inside, when she heard footsteps and saw her brother.

 

She smiled to herself, she knew what her brother was doing, jumping over the balcony of the neighbors late at night, when he thinks all the family has gone to bed and are fast asleep. But she heard him several times and she knew what was going on, but did not care to tell him, not now anyhow, maybe when she needs to blackmail him in the future.

 

"I can make his life really hard" she smiled to herself as she closed the door.

 

 

The Daughter

Hanan was twenty three years old, still not married. Right after the faculty of arts, her father managed to get her a job in the company he was working in. It was a nice job and she got to meet new people, and she was allowed to keep one third of her small salary. She loved her father and knew how hard he worked for their family, but she was slightly ashamed of him, she did not mention the fact that he was her father unless it was absolutely necessary.

 

She did not want others to know where she came from, that old poor quarter of Cairo, she always wore tight jeans and the nicest blouses she could afford, tight and slightly revealing her fully developed breasts. Of course she wore a scarf over them when she left home, to escape the scrutiny of her mother’s eyes, but as soon as she was inside the company bus, she shoved the scarf in her bag. She spend most of her money on makeup and she went to the small hairdresser shop two streets away from their house, she always died her hair blond, she felt it was more attractive … Egyptians love blonds, just because Egyptians are not blond by nature, she heard somewhere that on the contrary, Europeans and Americans love dark people, because they are surrounded by beautiful blond people, you get sick of seeing the same thing every day.

 

Hanan hopes she can find a husband soon, someone to take her away from their poor crowded house.

 

She tries to find someone from work, and she has nagged her father until he agreed to bring them an old used computer. She used a part of her salary to buy one of those new internet sticks and she spent all her nights on the internet, mostly in the chatting rooms.

 

That is how young people find each other nowadays, Hanan had known her share of boys over the chatting rooms.

 

It was quite sometime before she summoned the courage to actually meet them, now it was ordinary, and she doesn’t wait for the boy anymore, sometimes she’s the one who suggests it. She knows that most of the relationships won’t last, maybe one day one of them will … but for now, it was just fun.

 

When the first time a boy tried to touch her she pushed him away, he took her home silently and the next day he blocked her. After that she decided to let them touch her little, a kiss won’t hurt, she told herself.  She was not prepared to the feelings that thundered all over her body when the next boy crushed her lips, he coaxed her mouth open and slid his tongue inside, she moaned and threw herself at him as he massaged her tongue with his and nibbled at her lower lips.

 

Kisses became hotter, and the next thing she knew is that she was allowing them to touch her breasts, nudge her blouse down and rub her. Their mouths descended ... it was absolute pleasure … she could not resist and with each time she wanted more.

 

Soon, hands were rubbing the crotch of her jeans, she could hear a zipper and she was aching for more.

 

She learnt to wear a skirt when she goes on dates, it was always easier this way. And finger were replaced by something, but they would never dare to go further. Because she has to stay a virgin for her husband, and no man would ever bare the responsibility of taking her virginity away. She didn’t mind much, she heard about those doctors who can always patch you back, that is if you have the money, well she always figured if a man wanted her so bad, he should get the money for the doctor later on.

 

One of them offered to take her from behind, but she refused, she heard it hurt so much, and maybe she was just not ready to go so far.

 

She was chatting with a new boy, while listening to the newest song, the singer was talking about his lover and her two beautiful ?? … she was oblivious to the world around her, a world that she was so anxious to escape … without knowing what she was escaping to … out of the frying pan into the fire.

 

Life is hard.

 

 

The Youngesters

Rasha, Injy and Mahmoud are the three younger children, aged ten, seven and three … the two girls were glued to a movie on the television, the two leads were engaged in a passionate kiss and the girls were hanging on every scene, arousing their imaginations and putting ideas in their minds.

 

Mahmoud was too young to understand, he was playing with an old torn car, passed down to him from his older brother, it was missing a wheel and the colour was peeled off, but he is still too young to notice and is happily mimicking car sounds as he lies on the floor, all innocent and angelic. How long will it last, how soon will he be corrupted by a world swimming in a sea of poverty, profanity and pornography.

 

Where are we heading, with parents so occupied with feeding their children that they leave them to a world of immorality and waste, whose fault is it?

 

Life is hard, but we are the ones who made it hard ...

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 11.08.2014

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