By Dany Shaanan
I've been to Cairo twice. Once in April 2005, and once in September 2010, three months before the events that sparked the Arab Spring. Before we arrived to Cairo, we decided that in public we will speak only English (even though our native tongue is Hebrew) and that we will tell people that we are from Budolina, which is an imaginary kingdom from a book by the same name. We quickly realised, however, that there was no need for any of that. We introduced ourselves as Israelis, and discovered a welcoming, happy people living in a vibrant and wonderful city.
Below are recollections of two encounters I had, one from each of the trips;
On the first trip, I happened to find myself playing chess at a local cafe with three teenage boys. I'm guessing that they were about 17. They did not speak any English, and my Arabic is only symbolic, and yet, it wasn't hard to signal that I'd like to join and play, after all, we all know the rules of the game. When the game in progress ended, I was offered a playing seat. Sitting across me was my young opponent and two spectators by our sides.
Pawn to e4, pawn to e5, no words needed.
After a few more moves, the player across from me asked, "Min an?", which I knew to mean "Where from?", and in the same language, I knew to answer, "Min Israil" - "From Israel". The boys laughed for a while. As the laughter subsided, they looked back at me, suddenly realising that I wasn't joking. Their amused expressions disappeared. "Min Israil?" one asked again, to make sure. I nodded. The three boys, that till then were concentrated on the game at hand, as I was, were all of a sudden at a loss. I realised that they have never met an Israeli before, and there I was, walking around their city, drinking tea and playing chess with them. A few moments later, their expressions changed again. The shock disappeared, and was replaced by interest, curiosity and excitement. They smiled and started chatting happily between them, in Arabic so fast that I could not pick up a single word. It seemed to me like they understood that those were the things I came for - walking around the city, drinking tea and playing chess. I imagined they were talking about how they are going to tell at home and at their school of the Israeli they met at the cafe, and wondering how people will respond. Eventually, we got back to the game, and played it to its end.
Once the game was over, the tea finished, and no other language to speak in, I stood up with a friendly smile and said the Arabic word for 'Thanks'. As I headed to pay for my tea, they stopped me. They wouldn't hear of it and insisted to pay, and one by one, shook my hand warmly.
On the second trip, in the same neighborhood (which was in the El Darb Al Ahmar district, near Bab Zuweila), I met a store owner in his shop. A grown man, who lost a brother in one of the wars between Egypt and Israel. We set with him for several hours and talked about our two countries. He was intelligent and articulate, and confided in us that he was glad that there is peace, that we were there and that we can all sit together and talk. It was obvious that this statement, as well as the whole encounter, was difficult for him, but also that it was sincere. I wondered if the war in which his brother died was the same war in which my father got shot, and if maybe, it is not the first time our families met. A boy who worked at the shop, perhaps also a family member, sat with us the whole time. He watched, listened and brought us tea, all without any of the astonishment and surprise I encountered with the chess playing boys at the cafe. Maybe it wasn't his first encounter of this kind, or maybe he grew up in an environment that prepared him differently for such a meeting.
Both of these stories have left a strong impression on me, and I've been telling these tales as highlights of my time in Cairo, but only recently have I come to write them down - only after seeing the video of the Gaza version of Pharrell Williams's song 'Happy' during the 2014 Israel–Gaza conflict.
Gaza | Cairo | Tel Aviv Yaffo
Below is a photo I took during the second trip, when I went back to the cafe where I met the boys.
Text and photo by Dany Shaanan. Copyediting by Jonathan Avinor.