Chapter 28

Despite having been up for 30 plus hours, I didn’t sleep well that first night. My room had no air conditioning, just a ceiling fan on full blast and a window. The room also didn’t have a bathroom. I had to exit into a common area then go down a hall to one of the two shared bathrooms. When you get up to pee as often as I do in the night, it becomes a pain in the ass and it wakes you up a bit more each time.

A little before 10 a.m., I walked down the dirt path to the alley where Dareen had dropped me off and took a seat on a stone ledge to wait for Mohamed to pick me up. I sat there for about 20 minutes before various taxi drivers and men with camels started hitting me up for rides. It took multiple ‘la shukrans’ before they let me be. Sometime around 11, Mohamed rolled up in the van an hour late. It would become our daily tradition, each day running behind and unable to communicate with each other verbally to sort it out.

He took me back to the cat shelter where I was greeted by Nermen.

“You’re going to help paint the second floor today. They did the third floor yesterday and this morning. Do you have any old clothes to wear?”

“Yeah, I’m in them. I’m good to go.”

She looked at me skeptically, standing there in my gray chucks, old jeans, and a white t-shirt. “Yeah, this stuff is fine. Paint can get on it. I don’t care.”

She smirked, “As you like.” A true Egyptian phrase if there ever was one.

I spent the first couple of hours working with an older woman whom I think was named Abir and two young teenage girls whose names sounded like Aranya and Ermeena. None of them spoke English beyond exchanging names. They showed me the cleaning materials and their methods of using them, then we got to work scraping the tile on the lower part of the walls, washing the windows, and scrubbing the floors in the three cat rooms on the second floor. There was a lot of smiling and laughing as I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do.

A couple of hours later, a group of guys showed up with bright yellow paint for the walls. None of them spoke any English so I watched for a few minutes to see how they were going about it. I didn’t want to look foolish in front of them. They were using rollers attached to broomsticks yet somehow, they weren’t making much of a mess. I, on the other hand, got globs of bright yellow paint all over the floor on my first try.

It was embarrassing, and the crew had a good laugh at my expense. A couple of them tried to take the stick with the roller back from me but I refused; I had to earn their respect and do my share of the work. It’s why I was there. It made me curious how many of them were ESMA employees and how many were contracted workers or volunteers. I also wondered if they knew who I was or why I was there working with them.

The longer the day went the more breaks the guys took. I guess it’s the American mentality in me, but I stayed the course working. I didn’t go to Egypt to take breaks. I went to work. I don’t know if it made them uncomfortable or if they just wanted to integrate me into their group, but they offered me tea and a chair enough times that I finally took it. I didn’t want to seem rude and I had come to enjoy their company. I regret not getting any of their names.

Nermen brought us food in the evening and I decided to make my play to befriend the dog, Assami, that looked like Sphyncus with floppy ears. She had been in the same hallway as the day before with the same big long-haired dog, Rocky. Every time we went by, she would retreat to a metal shelving unit and stand on the bottom shelf looking out at us. It was so pitiful and cute.

I offered up chips to both dogs and it took all of 5 seconds for Assami to love me forever. She was all over me from that point on, even when I ran out of food. The rest of the night whenever I’d walk through the hallway I’d say, “Hey, it’s the chip man,” and she’d wag her tail and run up to me.

A lot of the cats and dogs on the second floor got paint on them before the day was over, and the little floppy eared Sphyncus had a yellow spot right on her nose. She flashed a smile that looked just like Sphyncus and, with that paint on her adding to her cuteness, I fell in love. It was dangerously easy to get attached to all the animals I’d been around that day, but her especially.

I ventured back downstairs to meet up with Lia and Anne-Marie to discuss ordering food. Everyone was congregating in a big room full of cats toward the back of the building. It’s a strange room; the walls are at least 20 feet tall and there isn’t a proper ceiling. It looks like the sort of roof you’d find on a hut.

I sat down on the floor and a white long-haired, one-eyed cat came over. He jumped onto my shoulders and pressed his body up against my head over and over while purring and meowing. If I put him down, he would climb back onto my shoulders and purr in my ear again--obviously a parrot in a past life, but reborn as the sweetest cat in Cairo.

The conversation I had with the woman on the street in 2010 came to mind. She put her life in danger crossing Haram Street just to try to convince me that the animals of Egypt were dangerous, and nobody wanted them. If she could only see me now and how wrong she was.

My mind drifted over to the kids that had been chasing Sphyncus the day I got her out from under the car. Seven years later, they’d be close to adults. It’s possible some of those kids would’ve been about the same age now some of the guys I’d been painting with all day. It made me feel conflicted. I had wanted to do the impossible and find those kids and rub it in their face how happy Sphyncus was in America. I wanted to scold them for how poorly they had represented their country and their people. I had wanted to shame them for so long for what they’d done. As I sat there on the floor with that one-eyed cat perched on my shoulder purring in my ear, I just wanted to forgive them.

Because of those kids I had an amazing dog that had changed my life. I was back in Cairo doing good things with good people. They were just kids. They didn’t know any better--their parents didn’t teach them any better and their society didn’t guide them along a better path. The guys I’d befriended that day could have been just like them when they were young, but now they’re working to give those animals a better life.

Nermen opened the refrigerator in the lobby to get some medicine out and Lia spotted a black bag inside with fur sticking out of it. She demanded Nermen tell her what it was at once. A sick cat had died that morning and there was nowhere else to store it. Nermen casually explained that the person that picks up the dead animals to bury them in the desert will only pick them up if they have several. They won’t just take one or two all the way out there. Hence, the dead cat being stored in the fridge. Lia didn’t seem happy about it, but there wasn’t much that could be done. Nermen seemed somewhat embarrassed and sort of glanced around the room to see everyone’s reactions. I just stood there not knowing what to make of it all.

Mohamed drove me back to Pyramids Loft and I crashed hard. Though it had been a long day of nonstop work, I felt great. Exhausted but great. I had done something good and helped out. It’s what I came to do and there’d be plenty more over the next few days. Busting ass all day for the betterment of others isn’t an opportunity I get very often so I cherished it. It was therapeutic.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I was awoken by a rustling sound on the table beside my bed. I jolted awake, thinking maybe I had imagined it, and reached for my phone to shine a light over. Something jumped onto the bed.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled and scrambled to the light switch by the door. An orange cat stared back at me from the middle of the bed. I’d left my window open again and it must have come in looking for food. It looked healthy and was remarkably friendly. Maybe it was a hotel cat? I didn’t want to chance anything. The last thing I needed was fleas getting on my stuff or the cat peeing on something. I picked it up and set it outside on the window sill and closed the shutters.

As I was leaving the next morning, I saw the orange cat still on the window sill sleeping peacefully. It made me feel guilty. I went over to pet it and decided if it came in again I’d let it stay. What the hell? Who cares? I’d be getting filthy anyway. I had made friends with the little black dog Tina from the cat shelter, the floppy-eared Sphyncus, and the one-eyed parrot cat. A little orange roommate wouldn’t do any harm.

Just like we had done 7 years before, I got up early that day to see the Pyramids. I didn’t plan on being a tourist much, but the Pyramids right across the street it was something I couldn’t pass up.

Once again, as soon as I walked through the gate a scammer walked up to offer his tour services. I had told myself I wouldn’t get roped in again, but I went ahead and let the guy do his thing. He was friendly, had an excellent mustache, and was at least the tenth person I’d met named Mohamed. No camels were involved, and I really wanted to hear somebody say “sfeenkus” over and over.

The highlight of his personal tour was when he climbed on top of one of the smaller pyramids and encouraged me to follow him up. I took maybe three pictures that weren’t worth it at all before armed guards ran us off. Afterward, like the camel scammers from 2010, he led me somewhere a little secluded and tried to rip me off. I should have expected it, but it was still disappointing. I had every intention of giving him some money, but he got pushy and his demands were a bit over the top.

“My friend, you have something for me now?” he asked holding his hands out.

“Yeah, sure. I got you.”

“American money is good, American money is good.”

“I don’t have any American money.”

“Is okay, American money is good.”

“What? No, I don’t have any. I have pounds.” I hadn’t been keeping much money on me at all. Opening a wallet full of bills was something I had learned to never do again.

“My friend, some people pay as much as two hundred dollars for this tour today.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Yes, yes. Two hundred dollars.”

“Nobody pays you that. How’s two hundred pounds sound?” After conversion that was equal to a little over ten dollars.

“My friend, people pay much more than that. Come on, come on” he said rubbing his hands together while scanning the area around us.

“No. That’s all I have,” I showed him my strategically empty wallet. The rest of my money was simply in my pocket. “Sorry, you cleaned me out.”

“This is not much,” he said.

“That’s more than double what I paid to get in. It’s enough.”

He didn’t look happy but accepted there was nothing he could do. I still drastically overpaid him.

“My friend, you have a good heart. You are good man. Thank you.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate that. Thanks for showing me around.”

I went back to my hotel and changed clothes to wait for Mohamed the driver to pick me up. He said he’d be there at 11 a.m. and it was getting close to time. Around noon, he still hadn’t shown up so I called Dareen.

“He is coming, don’t worry. He’s our only driver and we have him going around a lot today. Just get some rest and he will be there in maybe 45 minutes.”

“I can just take an Uber. It’s really not a big deal.”

“No, no. He will be there. Just relax and get some rest.”

My American brain couldn’t comprehend sitting around and resting when I was supposed to be working, especially losing out on two hours of work. I took a half hour nap then waited around some more. Around 1:30, I called Dareen back.

“He is still coming, don’t worry,” she assured.

“Seriously, I’ll just take an Uber. He’s busy. It’s no big deal. I just need the address to the cat shelter.”

“What? No! Why would you do that? He is coming. I will call you when he’s on his way.”

“….okay. I’ll wait then.”

Around 3 p.m., four hours after scheduled, Dareen called me and said Mohamed was outside. He greeted me with a sheepish smile and drove me back to the cat shelter. It took about half an hour to get there. I felt like I’d lost the majority of the day and was glad I’d made the decision to see the Pyramids earlier, so I wouldn’t view my Wednesday in Cairo as a waste.

As the door opened we were greeted by Anne-Marie in the lobby. “Where have you been? We have been here all day,” she teased.

“Sorry. I was supposed to be here four hours ago.”

“Ah, yes,” she said in her cute cartoon voice. “Nobody is ever on time here.” Truer words were never spoken.

The crew I’d been with the day before had already done the majority of the work, so I just hung around playing with the cats until somebody told me what to do. Eventually I made my way up to the third floor, the one remaining place I hadn’t seen at the cat shelter.

Cats, cats, and more cats. All so sweet. Some had obvious ailments--missing an eye, tongue hanging out, skinny, limping. The one thing they all had in common was their desire for human attention.

Nermen came and to let me know we’d be taking all of the dogs and putting them in the big room at the back of the shelter with the twenty-foot walls and hut roof. The dogs mostly hung around the lobby, but there was going to be some serious renovation done there so they needed to have it free from critters getting under foot.

The bigger problem was the back room had long cages that lined the back wall filled with sick and feral cats that also needed to be moved. These cats were so feral you couldn’t get near them. They’d been found in horrible conditions on the streets and ESMA was getting them healthy before turning them loose again. After seeing them for myself, I understood that there was no domesticating them. They were wild and fearful and aggressive.

Two of the guys I had worked with the day before got the ominous task of rounding them up into carriers and putting them in other cages in one of the other rooms. That long cage ran the entire length of the back wall and looked to be handmade. It had a wood top and wooden columns with chicken wire on the side. It was tall enough to get inside but you had to hunch over, which is exactly what those guys did. I was to remain outside of the cage and lock the door shut behind them.

Slowly they each went in wielding a stick and cat carrier. As soon as the door shut behind them, the cats went absolutely berzerk. I’ve never seen anything like it. They were climbing the sides, flinging themselves everywhere, hissing. Much more wild than I had imagined. Those guys deserved a medal for trapping themselves in there with them.

One by one they managed to get them out, but one slipped past when the door opened. That crazy cat climbed almost all the way to the top of the wall before sliding back down. One of the guys grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and it went completely nuts. He was barely able to get it into a cage before it tore his arm to shreds. They were all smiles and laughing about it afterward, but I was stunned. It was quite the show from my vantage point.

Before the day was over, I really wanted to go say bye to Assami, the floppy eared Sphyncus, but I stopped myself. Even though I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again, I couldn’t let myself get attached since I couldn’t take her home with me. I found out months later that she got adopted by a family in England.

At the end of the night, Mohamed drove me back to the Loft and we started using translate apps on our phones to communicate with each other, something we should have been doing all along. He was to pick me up the next morning and take me to the dog shelter for some serious cleaning work. I love cats and enjoyed my time at the cat shelter, but I was most anxious to see the dog shelter. It’s where Sphyncus had stayed, and everything I visualized in my head about ESMA took place there.

Shortly after arriving back at my room, Kris Shultz messaged asking if I wanted to meet her and her friend Mohamed El-bebawy out for drinks. Mohamed was around 25 years old and the nephew of one of Kris’ best friends in America. Every time she went to Cairo, he would pick her up at the airport and travel around with her everywhere she went. Kris suggested meeting up at a place called Bull’s Eye in the Duqqi district close to downtown.

I still hadn’t spoken with any of my Egyptian friends that weren’t actual ESMA employees, so I needed to get the ball rolling before running out of free nights. Heidi Alsabban is one of my oldest and best friends in Cairo, so I called her first and fortunately she was free to hang out on such short notice.

The ride to Bull’s Eye was the first in a series of awkward Uber rides that lasted an hour or more in total silence because the driver didn’t speak any English. The driver’s name was Mohamed, because of course it was, and we listened to the radio the entire duration. I have to admit I actually enjoyed cruising through the crazy Cairo traffic. Not being able to make small talk gave me a lot of time to reflect on the past few days and what was still to come. With my growing fondness for Cairo, the traffic wasn’t as intimidating anymore, and I could appreciate the city as we passed through the different neighborhoods.

Kris, Mohamed, Heidi, and I really clicked that night and we formed sort of a little family away from home. It was nice, completely different than anything I had experienced in 2010. All the locals were incredibly inviting and viewed Kris and me as their guests. Throughout the night, we hooked up with one of Kris’ acquaintances, Osama, and ended up leaving Bull’s Eye to meet one of his friends at a coffee shop. Once it became clear the coffee shop was closing, we left and drove to another restaurant to have more drinks.

At Kris’ urging, Mohamed told us a story from Kris’ last trip to Cairo where they were together, and some type of weasel ran across his foot, terrifying him.

“Tell him that line you told me,” Kris said laughing, egging him on.

“He ran across my foot and I yelled. Kris asked what it was, and I said, ‘It’s Egyptian weasel. They have no bones.’” Kris and I busted into hysterical laughter.

“They feel like jelly going across my foot. They have no bones.” He had a completely straight face and was deadly serious about it which made us both laugh even harder.

“What? It’s a mammal. It’s a weasel, of course it has bones,” I said.

Heidi chimed in, “No, they don’t have bones.”

I was dumbfounded. “You really believe that? Is that a common belief?” I looked at Kris. She just smiled and shrugged back at me.

“I’ve never looked it up anywhere but everyone I know thinks they have no bones,” Heidi said.

Osama jumped in. “It has no bones! It has no bones!”

I admit that a few of us in that group had been drinking so it only made the whole thing funnier, but it was still one of the more outlandish claims I’ve ever heard.

Heidi started Googling Egyptian weasels on her phone. “See, it doesn’t say anywhere that they have bones.”

“Heidi, why would it have to verify that they have bones? It wouldn’t say if they do but I’m sure it would say if they didn’t.” I was still laughing about it.

“It’s like the reason I don’t like Batman is because he is a bat,” Mohamed said. Of course I laughed even harder then. I loved my new friends.

Eventually, I convinced Heidi to sing for us. She had studied music and is an aspiring singer for hire. I had only heard little snippets she would post online so I was curious to hear her in person. She blew us all away. Sitting there at the table surrounded by people she really didn’t know, she lightly sang mesmerizing Arabic melodies for us. It was beautiful.

Around 3 a.m., we decided to call it a night. I was supposed to be picked up by Mohamed the driver at 10 a.m. and even though he’d been late both days so far, I still wanted to be ready just in case. Kris and Mohamed took an Uber together, and Heidi drove Osama and me. It took about an hour to get back to the Loft. The traffic wasn’t bad, but Heidi got lost a couple of times.

We ended up on Haram Street, and I started looking around to see if I recognized anything from 2010. Part of me had wanted to visit the HUSA Pyramids to take pictures and walk back through where I had first met Sphyncus. Without her I wouldn’t have been back in Cairo or hanging out with any of these people. It would’ve been nice to see our little spot in the dirt again. Ultimately, we didn’t come across it and I didn’t want to keep Heidi out driving up and down the street all night, so we headed back to the Lofts and she dropped me off.

Despite how tired I was, my mind was racing. Walking down that dirt path, I felt like I was on a natural high. What a night. What a day. We had practically closed three bars. In Cairo, of all places. What universe was this? Certainly not the same one as 2010. We had changed timelines. This new reality made more sense than the previous one and was filled with much more optimism. The conservative Muslim country had shown me a night out on the town that I didn’t even know was possible.

I got to bed a little after 4 and, before I could even fall asleep, I heard the familiar sound of cat feet landing on the floor. Turning on my phone light I saw the little orange cat standing there looking at me.

“Well, come on then,” I said. The cat jumped up on the bed, curled up next to my chest, and went to sleep.