The Time between Places: Stories That Weave In and Out of Egypt and America

An Encounter

An Encounter I lived on the third floor of an apartment building across the street from a school I couldn’t see. From my balcony, only the roof of the Mere de Dieu school for girls was visible. It was a gothic brick structure neatly fenced in and further obfuscated by a trail of trees that surrounded the grounds. Afternoons, I would hear the bell in three flat tones. One minute later, there was the stampede of children’s feet into the schoolyard, carrying with it their voices like an orchestra in full swing. I could never detect an individual voice or particular words. Rather, they were a group of instruments, at times creating a harmony of even tones, other times disjointed and shrill, but always in unison. During their recess, I would take a break from my work, sit on the balcony sipping a cup of mint tea, for which I had finally acquired a taste, and listen. Usually my meditation was broken by sharp screams like the scratching of a violin string. The sounds would subside for a moment, only to rise again until the bell summoned the children back inside. My excursion to Egypt had lasted longer than planned. I had arrived four years earlier with a two-year contract to teach at the American University, leaving behind a girlfriend and several part-time positions. It was a welcome relief from shuttling back and forth among different universities, teaching everything from composition to public speaking courses, and once becoming desperate enough to take on a creative writing class at the local prison. The job at the university was a stroke of luck; with only 43 a master’s degree and a few years of teaching experience, I was surprised they hired me. It wasn’t difficult to get adjusted: teaching every morning, then hanging about the faculty lounge to chat with the other instructors and make plans for our Friday and Saturday weekend . The university provided me with a furnished apartment in Garden City, only a few minutes walk from campus. The pollution that layered the streets and the difficulty of being understood with my few words of Arabic were a small price, given the comforts of a steady paycheck that enabled me to afford a cook and a housekeeper. The American University was an oasis in the heart of Cairo, not only with its greenery and flowering plants so unlike the grayness of the city where the sidewalks were dotted with occasional leafless trees, but also with its students who seemed immune to the restrictions of their culture. The women arrived with miniskirts, sleeveless shirts, and hair loose about their shoulders. In the summer, the young men expressed their daring by wearing shorts. Such clothing was an absolute taboo on the city streets where men wore long pants even at the height of the heat, and the majority of women wore scarves snug about their faces and long sleeves regardless of the seasons’ changes. The women at the university were a sight to behold; they looked more prepared for walking down a fashion runway than a university campus. Even their jeans were creased and tailored, and I wondered how long it took to put on their makeup and place each strand of hair in just the right place. I enjoyed greeting them each morning and happily responded to their flirtations. With their smiles and lingering walks across campus, they seemed trained in seduction. It was difficult to remember that they were only about eighteen years old. I wondered how a culture that placed so much emphasis on virginity could train its daughters to dress and act so provocatively . There were times when I was tempted to stretch the 44 Chance Departures flirtation, to see how far the young woman would carry it. But something held me in check. After a while, I realized that for these women, seductiveness was a pose, and I feared the consequences of my intended desires. After two years, my department acquired a new director who decided we should step ahead into the modern world by using computers in our classes. Since I had no expertise in that area, my request to have my contract renewed was denied. I was reluctant to return to my previous life in the States. And there was the matter of my girlfriend, Kay, who was anticipating that my return would be followed by our wedding. Despite her diligent correspondence and my erratic postcards throughout the previous...