The Family History

Pro Tip: Always carry tissue with you while in Cairo. Though all public washrooms have bidets (yay!), they do not all have tissue.

I mean. I’m all for a clean ass. Just not an unnecessarily wet one.


The (eventual) Tragedy began during their uni days. Momma used to hear baba sat in his balcony discussing politics and theology; based on what she heard, she fell in love with him.

Their balconies were joined, hers beneath his.

Today, and only because I asked, he took me to find their old building, and find it we did in Al-Nasr. It was sweet to see his reaction to all that had changed, and all that remained the same. I sent a photo to momma, and she recognized her building immediately.

Interesting story. I never actually understood the transition from my momma and baba’s uni days in Cairo, to their wedding ceremony in Libya. Their engagement pictures were in Gaza, but their wedding was in Libya. Because I don’t have much space in my brain, I threw out the question: Why, Weirdos?

During my day with baba he explained that my mom moved to Libya on her damn own in order to work. And so he followed, and they married immediately. Which. What?

I always knew that my little cartoon momma was fierce, but had no idea how deep that ran. I didn’t realize she moved on her own to a foreign land, and left her bae to follow. This definitely sheds much light on why / how adventurous she is in travel, which is far more adventurous than me.

Momma’s is the balcony with the colourful blanket hung from it, in case you’re wondering.

Today, I am grateful for:
1. Canada’s public transportation, including (and possibly especially) regulated taxis.
2. Amidst this City’s sea of brown, the random balconies, covered-in-large-and-very-colourful polka dots.
3. Hearing the Quran playing most everywhere I go.

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