Single at 34 - from The Poison Tree - planted & grown in Egypt

I love sunset tea in the terrace with my mom; I love the tea, the sunset, the mint in the tea, her cat playing with the teabag, but I hate the conversations she strikes! I was enjoying a great moment watching a lovely bird flying in utter freedom across the horizon when my mom broke into my space capsule and asked me: “Why did your last engagement last three days?” I was too perplexed to reply when she hit me with the second bomb of a question: “Why did you break up with your first fiance two months before your wedding?” I was still trying to figure out where these darts were coming from when she hit me with “Why are you still single?” By the time words found their way to my mouth, she was already stoning me with her questions: “What was wrong with H, A, M, K, B, T. R, N, O, S, E, Z ….? Why did you turn down C, D, X, F, G, I, J, L, P, Q, U, V, W, Y ….? Why don’t you get married to one of your friends? Why do you have brothers that I never gave birth to? Don’t you want to have a baby? Don’t you want to have a home? Don’t you want to be happy?”

My mind got on the time machine and I remembered the first marriage proposal I got; I was 16 and he was 22. I remember feeling flattered, excited, and important; I was already dreaming of the ring, the wedding, the dress, the honeymoon, and the home. As a little girl my granny, the best story-teller ever, used to tell me nice stories that involved mainly princes, castles, white horses, and happily ever after. It was not difficult for the little girl in me to wear the crown and gown, and ride behind prince-charming for an eternity of love and happiness. My mother, grand mothers, aunts, and any woman who ever set foot in our house wished me one thing: A man who would take care of me and make me happy!

Judging by the standards of our society, I was a “normal” girl growing up; I had nothing against men, marriage, kids, and mothers in law. When I turned 20, all the heads turned to look at the lucky man whose ring will adorn my finger. Years later, I am still single, and I have gone through a great metamorphosis since my teen years. Countless men came my way; I have seen those who stink in the mind, those who stink in the heart, and those who stink in the flesh! They all just stink!

That day on her terrace, my mom cross examined me, questioned my sanity, and was totally oblivious of my motives. I made no sense to her; I asked her why people got married and she told me that I was no longer seven to ask such a silly question. That was a clear sign that my peaceful sunset tea was over and that I had to make a quiet exit.

So, why do women get married? To have a home, to have kids, to leave their parents’ house, to start a life, to make love, to be responsible …? This is so wrong! Biological and physiological needs like food, air, shelter, and sex, and safety needs like security, protection, and stability are at the very base of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The need for belonging and love is midway between these two basic needs and the two superior needs of esteem and self-actualization. Looking at my aspirations now and my beliefs ten years ago, I can only be eternally grateful that I am not married to any of the men who came into my life.

A ten minutes meeting with an NLP guru six years ago changed my life. He asked me about what I was looking for in my prince-charming and I innocently said: “I want him to make me happy”. At the age of 25 I still believed in fairytales; a gorgeous man will stop me on the way to work, get off his horse, kiss my hand, kneel, point his magic wand at me, and order happiness to take home in my heart. The NLP expert clapped twice, woke me from my beauty sleep, and told me that if I was not a happy person on my own, no one would make me happy … ever! His words marked my memory and I slowly moved up Maslow’s pyramid towards achievements, status, responsibility, personal growth, and fulfillment. Now I am facing a bigger problem!

In the movie Runaway Bride, Maggie Carpenter (Julia Roberts) asked Ike Graham (Richard Gere) if there was one right person for everyone, he said: “No, but I think attraction is mistaken for rightness.” I have been attracted to many people but none of them felt right. There were always the ominous mental notes, the odd vibes, and the bad sparks. In my future vision of myself, I see kids and lots of fun, but no man … I see myself as a single mom.

What is difficult about asking for a man with who I can have endless conversations? Who will be faithful? Who will hold my hand as we watch TV? Who will make me feel like the most beautiful woman on earth even when I feel like a shaggy doll? Who I know will come to my rescue whenever I call? Who will give me a knot in the stomach when I think of him? Whose name or number on my phone will draw a smile on my face? Who is my equal? Who appreciates my independence, cherishes my strength, and respects my weakness? Who is not some needy freak or disgusting creep? Who will let me be and love me for who I am? Is this too much to ask for nowadays? I am no princess so I no longer expect a prince!

Maggie Carpenter finally made it to the alter; she proposed to him saying:

“Look, I guarantee there'll be tough times. I guarantee that at some point, one or both of us is gonna want to get out of this thing. But I also guarantee that if I don't ask you to be mine, I'll regret it for the rest of my life, because I know, in my heart, you're the only one for me.” I will wear a ring and keep it, love a man and keep him, and get married and stay married, only when something in my heart tells me that he is the only one for me and that if I let him go, I will regret it for the rest of my life!

http://laila-eg.blogspot.com/

From the diary of a single white female in Egypt

I am now sitting on my cozy sofa in my new living room absorbing the warm orange tones that surround me. The walls, the sofas, the carpets, and the radiant heaters in my fireplace seem to congratulate me on my long-awaited hard-earned independence. I have moved into what I hold as my biggest achievement; I have moved into my new home … my very own home. People make homes everyday. I know it is not such a big deal. But you do not see everyday working middle class Egyptian girls buying, finishing, and furnishing their own homes regardless of the absence or presence of a man. You rarely see that sort of utter independence and autonomy in a society that did, and continues to do, its very best to keep its female half handcuffed to their male counterparts. I am writing this article in celebration of female supremacy. But before you share my feelings of pride, joy, achievement, fulfillment, and warmth I want to share with you my interesting experience in a perplexing patriarchal society.

First of all, I have discovered that, in Egypt, workers, doormen, shopkeepers, and security guys will call you “madam” as the only sign they know of respect. Whether you are married or not, wearing a ring or not, it does not make a difference. I am not bothered by the title as much as I am intrigued by its connotations; I am “nothing” and a “nobody” if I am not “someone’s” wife! My studies and achievements in life and the workplace do not guarantee me respect and social status. Why couldn’t they call me “ostaza” or doctor or even miss? I was tempted many times to correct them that I am not “Mrs. Anyone” but I decided to spare myself their suspicious looks and inquisitive eyes or pity and sincere prayers that I found “the good man who would make me happy”. I held my peace.

A male friend of mine volunteered to help me out but my bossy demanding self, instead of gratitude, I felt controlled and restricted. Naturally, when someone goes out of his way and offers you sincere help, he would develop some sort of emotional involvement. My friend began giving me suggestions, advice, and opinions on where, when, what, why, and how things should be done or placed. My never-ever-try-to-control-me sensors picked up negative vibes and I gasped for air in my invaded space. The decent me was immediately replaced by a vicious aggressive creature that turned ugly and nasty in every possible way. I drove the friendly hand away and, to avoid more losses, I made a conscious decision to keep my friends out of the way and sight of my green-eyed monster. Bottom line: I am not marriage material … I was created a loner.

Since I mentioned my male friend let me highlight another point in the day to day dealings with our very own Egyptian proletariat; they all spoke to him! It is my apartment, my decision, my choice, my life, and my money – mine alone – yet whenever he was there they insisted on totally ignoring me, and what I said, and only addressed him. I cannot even begin to describe how offensive that felt. I – a very worthy human being – was turned into an invisible person by some ignorant people who denied me the right to be independent. The presence of “a man” made it much easier for them to communicate than to deal with me – a woman! Thus, the man had to go!

Speaking of that I have to share a first of a kind anecdote; in one of the governmental offices, I was kept last – I mean the very last person regardless of whose turn it was – after the employee in charge was done with all the veiled and the “monakaba” ladies in the waiting area. In his eyes, I did not deserve to be served and I certainly deserved to be punished! In another office, the cashier looked me in the eye as he handed me my receipt yet overlooked giving me back the 20 Egyptian Pounds change. In that same office I have been yelled at by some other employee who got so offended because I asked about the approximate time the technician was expected to visit me. It is only fair to say that I have encountered some very cooperative and sincere employees who went out of their way to help me with the procedures and who voluntarily called me to update me on the status of my papers or applications.

The other thing that drove me insane was the fact that almost everyone that I interacted with in the process of finishing and furnishing my home – from plumbers, carpenters, electricians, to government officers like the telephone or electricity guys – they all assumed that “someone will be at home in the morning”. Who could be at home? Even if I were married, I would be at work and so would the husband. Do I look like someone who would have a live-in maid? Or maybe they got the fact that I was single so it was only natural that I lived with my parents – who had to be at home! This made me wonder about the concept of shifts … why don’t we have shifts? It would solve a big deal of the unemployment crisis that is eating away the zeal of the youth of this country. If I finished work at five and drove home in an hour then why couldn’t they send me someone at seven or eight?

I did drugs!!! Yes ... I smoked! On the verge of a heart attack and a nervous breakdown, a friend of mine handed me a joint. Perfection and commitment are two things that are unheard of in this country – ok maybe a few people have heard of them. From leaking new pipes, broken new faucets, and worn out new furniture to unmet deadlines and continuous lies and empty promises, I was always in tears or in rage. I thundered and threatened to use my media power – first time ever – and I exploded with curses and ultimatums at least fifty times in the two weeks that I had to take off from work – remember the previously stated assumption: someone has to be home!

Tips and bribes are two concepts that got so messed up in my head; at first I thought that a tip is money you pay in gratitude to someone who served you well. I also thought that a bribe is money that you were forced to pay to get served well. Today I am no longer sure which is which. I just lubed my way with money – be it tips or bribes – to get things done. I avoided eye-contact with whoever I gave money lest they see how much contempt and disgust I felt towards them. Very few people had integrity and pride – those were the people that I had to “beg” to accept my little token of gratitude for their assistance.

This was a very educating and enlightening experience; I saw the real face of Egypt. I got in touch with the nature of Egyptian labors; lethargy and apathy run in their street-wise smart-ass veins. Even those working in big stores need intensive customer service training; they need to learn how to handle angry frustrated customers instead of switching off their phones. Business owners need to invest in their employees otherwise they will lose customers – and eventually money – because of how unprofessional their employees are. I was swallowed in red-tape and bureaucracy. Two weeks off work were not enough; you waste a whole day to apply, another day to sign a contract and pay, and a few other days with the installation.

I also saw the warm sincere helpful nature of other workers and employees who just needed to be acknowledged as human beings. People never notice them and their services are taken for granted. So many people volunteered to help me and went out of their way to make this tiresome mission less consuming just because I showed some respect or because I smiled while addressing them. Some stores really have gems of employees but they are buried amidst the rubbish of their colleagues and some owners have no clue how much customers are bad-mouthing their companies because of their insolent employees. I have heard of women who suffered during pregnancy and childbirth that they did not want to embrace the baby after it was born; like those women, I have had moments when I hated the apartment and just wanted to back off on my dream. Today as I type this article I could only say that it was worth it … every bit of it.

(Identity - Feb 08)