The small
black kitten was purring in happiness on the lap of the young girl. Its eyes
were screwed tightly with pleasure. Hearing the thud of my heavy footsteps it
opened its eyes to look at me enquiringly. The bright green eyes opened
suddenly and, in my imagination, it was a witch’s cat! I continued on my quest
to lose the excess baggage that I had put on in the last year! The sea was
thunderous and even with the music in my ears I could still hear the angry but
beautiful waves crashing against the concrete piles on the shore.
I reached my
target distance and turned back the same way that I had come and paused at the
“kitten place” The kitten was nowhere around but the young girl (around
thirteen or fourteen maybe) was setting up a corn stall. She was wearing a long
frock over a pair of jeans. Her head was covered with a hijab as is normal in
this part of the world. Her head was bowed in concentration... setting up the
pile of coals to smoulder over which she would roast the corn and offer it to
the passerby. Her cart was a rough wooden one – a flat piece of wood balanced
on a few rocks. On one side was the pile of corns and the other side held the
smouldering coals which she was fanning vigorously. She saw I was looking
curiously at her and thinking maybe I was a prospective customer she looked up
and I was floored! The beauty of the startling green eyes almost made me
stumble- they were clear and bright and what was strange was, she had dark
skin- normally one does not associate green eyes with dark skin!
Egypt, like
India has a mixture of races and you see all kind of colour combinations here
and all kinds of features. But there are too many races- you have a mixture of
Greek, European, Arabic and African features but normally the colours remain
true- that is a fair person may have different coloured eyes and hair and a
dark person has the black or brown eyes and hair but this girl was startling. I
wish I could have taken a picture and put it up (remember the National
Geographic cover of an Afghan girl?) but I didn’t know whether she or her
guardian would object so I went on mulling over the strange combination of
features and colours.
The next day
again she was there. She gave me half a smile of recognition. The smell of
roasting corn wafted by and almost tempted me to stop and pick one up from her.
What stopped me was the fact that here they do not add salt and lime like they
do in India (and of course the calories!) After this I saw her regularly and
smiled at her. She was always kneeling down on the rough concrete tending to
her cart quietly. I never saw an adult near her or any friends who came to meet
her. Her customers were few as they were more sophisticated gleaming stainless-steel
carts offering more hygienic corns around and naturally people flocked there!
In fact I thought I would give her a pound just like that or pretend to buy a
corn and then throw it away later on but I never did!
I used to go
on this same track for a walk about six months ago and it used to be pristine –
the path was always swept clean; no vendors were allowed here and only people
who loved to walk or to exercise could be seen trundling to and fro. But now
the path looked like Juhu or Chowpatty in Mumbai. It was filled with people
specially couples who hid behind rocks. The vendors were scattered here and
there, shouting and advertising there fares. The path was littered with coke
cans and chips packets with only a harassed janitor trying to collect the trash
as fast as he could! The tea vendors washing the cups from broken plastic
buckets and throwing the water on the path (You were lucky if one such throw
did not hit you!)
Fortunately
the sea here was too rough to swim otherwise it would be filled with families
who put up two chairs and an umbrella wherever they felt like and made it their
private place! The Corniche extends for about thirty-two kilometers – why take
away a mile of this beautiful stretch to indulge in commercial activities? I
wonder where those young people are who had vowed that they would keep Egypt
clean after the revolution (remember they painted the sidewalks and the wall so
it would look beautiful)
Coming back
to my girl with the green eyes I wondered how much she made each day to make it
worth her while to spend hours on this path waiting for a few pounds. Does she
go to school? (It is holidays for all the schools now) Is she trying to make
pocket money? Giving up her friends and play time. Or is she just trying to
survive? Or what...? Is this what freedom is all about to be able to
earn at the cost of childhood? Freedom should be a beautiful and peaceful
feeling – maybe this young girl could be used as an icon of freedom- her beauty
and serenity is captivating to say the least. I just wish I dared to speak to
her and lead her away from what she thinks is right (I am not sure about that)
to bring her to what I think is right (But I am not free you see!)
