The touch of human genuineness in Egypt

 

The eerie lack of crowds was fast becoming a theme on this exotic holiday. Our reassuring guide, Samir and his impeccable travel arrangements did not completely take away the niggling thought of some disaster lurking round the corner which we must have been oblivious to whilst planning, in contrast to the cautious who had chosen to avoid this sunny destination in political turmoil. As we landed in Edfu, one mellow February afternoon, we were too conscious of the hungry looks of the Egyptian drivers, sizing up possibly the only tourists of the day. Their colourfully decorated horses tapped impatiently, adding to the background music of a developing tension. Samir skilfully crowded us into a single carriage to make sure we were all under his guarding gaze, and off our horses trotted into the narrow, dusty streets of Edfu.

Fifteen crazy minutes of balancing none too agile bodies on an overcrowded carriage and we were at the gates of an ancient Egyptian temple. Vendors milled around, coaxing for custom in a drought of tourism. A little Egyptian boy, not more than eight years old, joined the throng. Whilst others gave up, he persisted with his blue stone studded bracelets and whiny cajoling. We waved him off with scant attention and perhaps a little first world arrogance, focussing our senses on the grand monument before us. My daughter had fallen behind a few steps.

As she ran to join us, she showed me a bracelet on her wrist. ‘Where did that come from?’ I asked her with exasperation. ‘He gave it to me’, she said pointing at the little boy with his bracelets. “He said, ‘You got pretty smile, here take this as a gift!’ I did not know what to do”, she finished with a slightly confused, slightly abashed shrug of her young shoulders. Annoyed with his persistence, I told her to return the ‘gift’ immediately. He refused with a look I could not read. I turned to Samir for help sure that the boy (or his Dad!) would come pestering for a cost very soon. Cheap as the stuff was, I did not appreciate what I perceived to be underhandedness. For once Samir failed as well, the boy stood resolute. I decided to give up and pay him a few pounds to satisfy my consumer conscience. He refused again. A stream of indignant Arabic followed which Samir translated as ‘I gave it as a gift.

I won’t take it back and I won’t take money for it’. Temple tour over, we boarded our carriage to ride back to the dock where our luxury ship awaited. The boy stood at a distance, waving pointedly at my daughter. He made no eye contact with the rest of us. No one came chasing for a price till the end. Back on our luxury ship on the Nile, I asked Samir if he had come across any similar experience in the past. ‘No,’ he said with a pause. It had been a unique act of graceful giving with no expectations. We would never forget his human kindness. The bracelet sits on my daughter’s dressing table, a reminder of a proud Egyptian boy who was no pestering vendor but a host in his country, giving a gift to an innocent who smiled at him.

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