“Love is not holding hands while you understand each other. It’s about having lots of misunderstandings. and still not leaving each other’s hands.” author unknown
T is back after 4 ½ months working on the other side of Egypt. One of the boys who drives a donkey cart for the tourists greeted me in the street yesterday and asked “T is back. You are happy?” What could I do but grin madly and shake my finger at him. Nothing is secret in Siwa.
At night I often lie in bed listening to the voices of people passing in the street, and as I learn more Arabic I try to make out what they are talking about. When they speak in Siwan, I don’t understand at all.
Last night as I listened, I realized there are two expressions that go beyond language – crying and laughing. Every day I hear both: children crying and calling for their mother or a grandfather who is taking care of them, or shrieks and bubbles of laughter as they play between the houses. I hear the men laughing loudly and deeply as they walk from the mosque together and tell each other the events of the day. A few times I have even heard the women, heads bent close together as they walk down the street, laughing softly with each other through their covers.
I have cried and laughed so much during 10 months in Siwa, in frustration and despair and happiness. Mostly I have laughed and mostly thanks to T, despite us sometimes not understanding each other, and that means more to me than a million conversations in flawless English could. It is good to have him here again.