Megan Shudde

Cab rides in Cairo often include lengthy chats with the driver.  Almost no topic is off-limits and what starts as a friendly conversation may quickly evolve into a full-on interrogation with the driver probing his passenger’s religious, political, and personal beliefs.  During my last taxi ride, I asked my particularly friendly driver whether he is Muslim or Christian.  He responded in Arabic that he is Muslim ilhamdilah (thanks be to God), but that a person’s religion does not matter to him and that he likes Muslims and Christians alike.  My driver’s thoughts reflect Egypt’s public stance on religion: freedom of religion is officially enshrined in the Egyptian constitution and polite conversation tends to emphasize the unity of the Egyptian people regardless of individual religious preference.

When I first arrived in Cairo, I initially encountered few big shocks.  Talking to Arabic professors and returned study abroad students at Georgetown gave me an inkling of what to expect and helped to soften the blow of the traffic, noise and chaotic energy that characterize Cairo.  My new experiences have generally meshed with the growing feel I have for the city.  Despite my preparation, three seemingly unrelated things have taken me by surprise.  Before I came here, I knew that most Egyptian women cover their hair, but I was unprepared to see so many women wearing the full face veil or niqab.  Prior to my arrival I had never seen the bruises or zebibah that mark the center of many men’s foreheads here.  Finally, amidst the familiar sight of booths devoted to recruiting new members to the student government, clubs, and community service organizations, a group devoted to providing furniture for orphan brides seemed jarringly out of place.  As my meager understanding of Egyptian culture has grown, particularly of its religious and political undercurrents, I am beginning to understand just how much niqab, zebibah, and providing for young brides share in common.