The Fantastical and Tonight

I keep thinking about the Egyptian men and boys doing night patrol to protect their neighborhoods. It's about 4:30 a.m. in Cairo as I write this, and I can't wrap my brain around the idea that two boys, Rafi and Wasim (see pics two posts below), are doing night patrol along with their father and other boys and men.

I think about when 4th-grade Wasim first knocked on our door to invite 2nd-grade Amanda to ride bikes together. He was so polite and smiley and elementary-school-handsome, it made us instant believers in the merits of an arranged marriage. It was the first time we let Amanda outside without parental supervision because there is a quality about Wasim that makes you trust him. They rode bikes a lot that summer, the first taste of independence and freedom. The two rode around the perimeter of family housing: through the playground, across the parking lot, up the hill, behind the building, and then circling the same route again. It was almost like their legs peddled in sinc. When I think of the two bike riding together, it plays slow motion in my mind, with a sappy happy soundtrack. It's how you imagine the perfect kind of childhood.

I think about Rafi and Aidan potty training together. Not that it was purposefully together, but we just spent a lot of time together and it happened to be that time of life for both boys. We used words like poo poo, pee pee, poopie or some other brilliant parenting phrase. Rafi's word was kaka. So we also heard that word and in fact, Aidan used all these words interchangebly. But it gets better. Our next door neighbors were from Tanzania and so Swahili was spoken in that household, where Aidan also spent alot of time. Apparently, the Swahili word for brother is--you guessed it--kaka. Aidan thought this was fantastical! How could one word be so naughty yet so nice? And perfectly acceptible to say in front of adults. So Aidan got to work with his bilingual skills, trying out linguistical tricks with his friends such as, "Where is your kaka? Do you have a kaka? Can I see your kaka?" and you get the idea. He considerred himself clever, and to be honest so did I. Still, we instructed him that he could only use words in a way that made sense to the family he was with. "Oh," he said.

If you know me, you know I don't understand how prayer works, why it seems to work sometimes and not other times. I can't help but to ask why would an all powerful God needs human advise to do the right thing. Yet I lean on prayer when I don't know what else to do. Heba and Magdi are full believers in the power of prayer. When Bob's liver failed, they were already back in Cairo, and they told me later that when they heard the news they instantly got down on their knees and prayed for healing.

Tonight, I don't know what else to do. But I do know that I don't like the idea of Wasim and Rafi doing night patrol. I don't like the idea of what could happen tomorrow, given the violence today. And so I pray that Mubarrek would accept a dignified and speedy departure from his position. That this country can start to rebuild. That the forces of goodness will prevail in the short run, the long term, tonight, tomorrow and forever.

And I give thanks for all of you who join me in this call for peace.

With love, T