Charles Dickens' classic A Tale of Two Cities famously begins,
This weekend, I experienced a bit of both the best and worst through the eyes of two young girls, living in the same city. They surely are unaware of each other as they would be to any stranger living in the world today--though the physical distance between them is small, the difference in their experiences is vast.
The Best of Times...
We have been hosting Christian families as a part of our ministry to Christians living in Egypt. Each of these parents bring their children for songs and crafts to help them understand various Bible stories. The kids, though apprehensive and quite shy at first, have warmed up nicely not only to us but to the routines that we've established in the sanctuary of the garden. The songs have been a favorite part of the time, singing and learning motions to happy tunes with spiritual meanings. Even the toddlers are beginning to copy the motions and smile when they hear the melodies begin to play.
The children are beautiful--their laughter is infectious and their enthusiasm is difficult to contain when trying to explain something for all. They didn't know what to think of us at first, but now they will hug us, sometimes asking us to hold them a moment--we couldn't hardly get them to tell us their names when we began, but now we can hardly get a word in when they want to tell us something. Though they lacked trust of us at first, they now quickly call on us for help in creating a craft or to show us what they have accomplished.
One little girl this week came in a little more eager than in previous weeks--she began behind the leg of her mother as shyly as she has in the past. She had her hair done with colorful barrettes and new sparkly shoes. This week she didn't linger behind her mother too long; she popped out to greet us with a smile, and then ran to her friends who were also gathering. She ran to the table with the bright crayons and began to color a picture of the Bible story for the day. When it was time, she joined the other children for the songs.
At the end of the day, though the program was over and she was securely placed in her car seat for the ride home, she continued to sing. Her mother stopped the car to record a video of this precious little girl singing the words and doing the motions (as best as she understands the words and motions). It was not only one of the cutest things we've seen, but definitely one of the most encouraging in our short time of ministry in Cairo.
The Worst of Times...
We ride the Metro public transportation trains into the downtown of Cairo to worship each Sunday night. A part of the long and often hot ride is the interruption of petitioning peddlers or beggars; we were told that in the days prior to the revolution, such activity was not permitted on the train cars or within the stations--whether or not that is true, we do not know--but we have experienced this as a normal part of the routine since our arrival. Peddlers come on board and announce their wares at one end of the train, even occasionally giving a demonstration as they move the length of the car during the time it takes to move from one station to the next -- occasionally, they will put their product on your lap (if you're lucky enough to be seated) to give you the opportunity to inspect it for yourself while they quickly move through the train car to deliver and then pick up their product all before the next stop. Whether or not they are able to sell anything, they will be ready to move into the next train car to start the process all over again. Beggars (the blind, the crippled, the widowed, and the orphans) will often use the same pattern to collect whatever they can from those riding the Metro.
It's difficult to see street children, whether as a peddler or as a beggar, making their way through the cars. Street children are a well-documented and recognized social-justice issue in Cairo; this 2011 report (after the revolution) estimated the number at more than 3 million children on the streets of Egypt. I know that this is also a problem in other countries as well--I've seen and worked with homeless children in US cities, and spent a lot of time last summer talking with a Syrian teen who was abandoned at age 6 before getting help from an organization in Beirut at age 12. And though I've seen this issue a lot in the past, and increasingly now in the present, I saw a little girl this Sunday differently.
There could be many reasons why I took notice of this little girl. Perhaps it was the memory of the video of the other little girl, singing with such a big smile and so much joy that led to the contrasting picture in front of me. Perhaps it was the sincerely sad and downtrodden plea of the mother who escorted the little girl through yet another car of strangers, hopeful for a contribution to their needs. Perhaps it was the presence of my own happy, carefree, and healthy child beside me -- whatever the reason, my eyes and heart were transfixed upon this little girl from the moment they entered the train. Her gaze was cast low upon her shuffling feet, calloused and dirty from the city streets; this downcast posture gave a clear view of the burn scars all across her forehead and high into her scalp, further revealed by her hair being drawn back in a ponytail.
Usually, beggars move slowly through the car, some repeating their plea loudly and with tears while their hand is outstretched so that you need only drop in your alms; others have preprinted papers with a description of their need and they let you read why they need your help. But this mother and daughter moved at a faster pace from the other end of the car to where we were standing at the front--I'm not sure she made her case more than once as few dared to make eye contact with either of them as they passed. The mother walked by me and my son and stopped in front of the door--dejected by no one's offering.
I'm not sure what it was, but I wanted to help from the moment I saw them, the moment they walked onto the train car. I may give a pound here or there to those I see along my path, but always discreetly and quickly. But for whatever reason, I felt like I needed to do more; I reached in my wallet while the mother was still half the car away. I was able to give her more, but only monetarily. She was surprised when I gave it to her, and she removed her glasses from her veiled face to wipe her eyes as she stood speechless in front of the doors.
I wanted to speak to the child; I wanted to caress her face and let her know she was beautiful and that the Lord loved her. We are allowed to serve and work with the Christian population of Egypt, but we are limited in our interactions with others--we can respond to questions, but we have to be careful of our initiations.
A Tale of Two City Girls...
It's ironic that the one of whom we have the video is the one that I will likely see again and again. I do not have a video of the other, and may never see her again, but that doesn't stop my memory from replaying the 2.5 minutes over and over in my mind.
The first fills me with joy; the second leads me to pray for her joy.
Two girls, near the same age and in the same city, yet worlds a part. But God knows their names and loves them the same -- I hope both will find peace in His love.
"It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times..."
This weekend, I experienced a bit of both the best and worst through the eyes of two young girls, living in the same city. They surely are unaware of each other as they would be to any stranger living in the world today--though the physical distance between them is small, the difference in their experiences is vast.
The Best of Times...
We have been hosting Christian families as a part of our ministry to Christians living in Egypt. Each of these parents bring their children for songs and crafts to help them understand various Bible stories. The kids, though apprehensive and quite shy at first, have warmed up nicely not only to us but to the routines that we've established in the sanctuary of the garden. The songs have been a favorite part of the time, singing and learning motions to happy tunes with spiritual meanings. Even the toddlers are beginning to copy the motions and smile when they hear the melodies begin to play.
The children are beautiful--their laughter is infectious and their enthusiasm is difficult to contain when trying to explain something for all. They didn't know what to think of us at first, but now they will hug us, sometimes asking us to hold them a moment--we couldn't hardly get them to tell us their names when we began, but now we can hardly get a word in when they want to tell us something. Though they lacked trust of us at first, they now quickly call on us for help in creating a craft or to show us what they have accomplished.
One little girl this week came in a little more eager than in previous weeks--she began behind the leg of her mother as shyly as she has in the past. She had her hair done with colorful barrettes and new sparkly shoes. This week she didn't linger behind her mother too long; she popped out to greet us with a smile, and then ran to her friends who were also gathering. She ran to the table with the bright crayons and began to color a picture of the Bible story for the day. When it was time, she joined the other children for the songs.
At the end of the day, though the program was over and she was securely placed in her car seat for the ride home, she continued to sing. Her mother stopped the car to record a video of this precious little girl singing the words and doing the motions (as best as she understands the words and motions). It was not only one of the cutest things we've seen, but definitely one of the most encouraging in our short time of ministry in Cairo.
The Worst of Times...
We ride the Metro public transportation trains into the downtown of Cairo to worship each Sunday night. A part of the long and often hot ride is the interruption of petitioning peddlers or beggars; we were told that in the days prior to the revolution, such activity was not permitted on the train cars or within the stations--whether or not that is true, we do not know--but we have experienced this as a normal part of the routine since our arrival. Peddlers come on board and announce their wares at one end of the train, even occasionally giving a demonstration as they move the length of the car during the time it takes to move from one station to the next -- occasionally, they will put their product on your lap (if you're lucky enough to be seated) to give you the opportunity to inspect it for yourself while they quickly move through the train car to deliver and then pick up their product all before the next stop. Whether or not they are able to sell anything, they will be ready to move into the next train car to start the process all over again. Beggars (the blind, the crippled, the widowed, and the orphans) will often use the same pattern to collect whatever they can from those riding the Metro.
It's difficult to see street children, whether as a peddler or as a beggar, making their way through the cars. Street children are a well-documented and recognized social-justice issue in Cairo; this 2011 report (after the revolution) estimated the number at more than 3 million children on the streets of Egypt. I know that this is also a problem in other countries as well--I've seen and worked with homeless children in US cities, and spent a lot of time last summer talking with a Syrian teen who was abandoned at age 6 before getting help from an organization in Beirut at age 12. And though I've seen this issue a lot in the past, and increasingly now in the present, I saw a little girl this Sunday differently.There could be many reasons why I took notice of this little girl. Perhaps it was the memory of the video of the other little girl, singing with such a big smile and so much joy that led to the contrasting picture in front of me. Perhaps it was the sincerely sad and downtrodden plea of the mother who escorted the little girl through yet another car of strangers, hopeful for a contribution to their needs. Perhaps it was the presence of my own happy, carefree, and healthy child beside me -- whatever the reason, my eyes and heart were transfixed upon this little girl from the moment they entered the train. Her gaze was cast low upon her shuffling feet, calloused and dirty from the city streets; this downcast posture gave a clear view of the burn scars all across her forehead and high into her scalp, further revealed by her hair being drawn back in a ponytail.
Usually, beggars move slowly through the car, some repeating their plea loudly and with tears while their hand is outstretched so that you need only drop in your alms; others have preprinted papers with a description of their need and they let you read why they need your help. But this mother and daughter moved at a faster pace from the other end of the car to where we were standing at the front--I'm not sure she made her case more than once as few dared to make eye contact with either of them as they passed. The mother walked by me and my son and stopped in front of the door--dejected by no one's offering.
I'm not sure what it was, but I wanted to help from the moment I saw them, the moment they walked onto the train car. I may give a pound here or there to those I see along my path, but always discreetly and quickly. But for whatever reason, I felt like I needed to do more; I reached in my wallet while the mother was still half the car away. I was able to give her more, but only monetarily. She was surprised when I gave it to her, and she removed her glasses from her veiled face to wipe her eyes as she stood speechless in front of the doors.
I wanted to speak to the child; I wanted to caress her face and let her know she was beautiful and that the Lord loved her. We are allowed to serve and work with the Christian population of Egypt, but we are limited in our interactions with others--we can respond to questions, but we have to be careful of our initiations.
A Tale of Two City Girls...
It's ironic that the one of whom we have the video is the one that I will likely see again and again. I do not have a video of the other, and may never see her again, but that doesn't stop my memory from replaying the 2.5 minutes over and over in my mind.
The first fills me with joy; the second leads me to pray for her joy.
Two girls, near the same age and in the same city, yet worlds a part. But God knows their names and loves them the same -- I hope both will find peace in His love.
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