Murder at The Oriental Café
This is not what you think. And certainly not what I expected.
When I moved to Egypt, during the official - bumpy - start of my career, I experienced the infamous cultural shock. I also suffered from the even more infamous "colonizer´s syndrome".
I criticized. Pointed fingers. Couldn´t understand how locals thought, felt, and behaved.
I grabbed, perhaps tighter than I should, to my values and perspective on the world, presuming they´d be superior to the ones I was witnessing. Always superior, by default.
- In the West, we believe in... - I feel ashamed to admit it but that´s how many of my phrases started.
- In my country, we don´t do this, or that, or even - God forbid -, that. - I´d add with a sense of superiority that can only be sustained through ignorance, lack of world and life experience.
Nearby the home where I lived in the first years, by the Nile, there were rows of "Baladi coffee shops" (local coffee shops, typically Egyptian). Men would gather to talk, sing, watch the news, listen to music, smoke "shisha" (narguilé/waterpipe), and, to my astonishment, to watch life go by.
I, the Westerner, observed them in a state of irritation:
- Don´t they have something useful to do? Why are they losing their time in those coffee shops? - I asked, pointing at those men in "gallabeyas", sure that I knew important stuff they didn´t know about.
Here´s a concept I struggled with in those days: "The Timeless Time of Egypt".
I existed in chronic hurry. Time slipped from my fingers, even if I kept running to catch it, and I felt anxious about it. Coming from a Western, Productivity-Centered, Obsessed-with-Time culture, I felt that losing time - whatever that means - was a crime against Humanity.
Egyptians seemed to disagree.
Although I was annoyed by their "seemingly eternal timeline" - nobody rushed, or stressed, or felt they were losing time if they stopped to exist -, I was the guest, the visitor, the invader. I, not them, had come into foreign territory and decided to make a living in and off it.
- If you don´t like the way they live, you can leave. - A (wise) friend told me, and rightly so.
And because I decided to stay, I had to come to terms with the fact that:
1. I either learned from Egypt and Egyptians;
2. Or I´d become a nag, a critic, a sour creature who pointed fingers and felt superior.
I didn´t want to be that person (#2).
One day, I sat on one of those neighborhood coffee shops, next to a table where two Egyptian men played "sheesh beesh" (backgammon).
At first, they observed me - from head to toe -; then, they focused on the game.
I asked for tea, dove into a book, and listened to Om Kolthoum whose voice was pouring from an old radio stuck on a dusty shelf.
It was early morning and the establishment was nearly empty. Only I, the two men, and the owner were there. The floor was still wet; there were tables and chairs randomly disposed inside the coffee shop and on the sidewalk, next to the entrance. Posters of old movies and singers decorated the walls. The scent of "bokhour" (incense) and freshly brewed drinks - coffee, tea, "sahlab" - filled the space.
Once the round of "sheesh beesh" was over, the two men resorted back to what they did best: observe; watch life go by.
My initial reaction was to dive into my usual irritation. Then, I closed my book, finished my tea, and did what they did: nothing.
I observed the street, people passing by, stray cats and roaming birds; a light blue sky; nothingness. After the initial resistance to "doing nothing" - just being present and observant -, I got it. And got them.
Coffee shops in Egypt are institutions, symbols, places of solace, reunion, community, playfulness, and meditation. These are the places where people gather to talk, look at each others´faces, play music - in the case of musicians, amateurs and professionals -, and be reminded that life is more than work and struggle.
Those men weren´t necessarily lazy; they had families, work, and responsibilities to tend to; and they, too, would die some day. Yet, they knew that STILLNESS IS ESSENTIAL. They knew that OBSERVATION CAN BE MEDITATION. They knew that HAVING A PLACE WHERE YOU CAN SIT BACK, RESET, AND REST is essential.
They, being Egyptian, knew - instinctively - about "THE TIMELESS TIME OF EGYPT".
My ego died, that day. It was murdered. All my certainties and prejudices went down the drain. And I opened up to the possibility that I could learn from them, from everyone. I, the outsider, could observe, absorb, and grow instead of pointing fingers, criticizing, and feeling superior.
The concept that later became "The Oriental Café" Podcast (to be released this January) was born, that morning, next to those men, silently watching life go by.
I believe that humans need spaces - physical and virtual - where we can sit back and exist. Where we can communicate with each other openly; where we can listen to music and enjoy life in its complexity and simplicity.
For that reason, in order to create that space for my (ever growing global) community, I decided to create "The Oriental Café" Podcast, a place where we´ll always meet to talk, learn from each other, and exist. No rush, no need to be more than we are; no limits of time or space.
I´d love you to be a part of this Magic🌟✨💫
Feel welcome to JOIN "THE ORIENTAL CAFÉ" PODCAST NEWSLETTER if you wish to be notified about our upcoming episodes, bloopers, and exclusive content we´re sharing with our podcast insiders.
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📯First Episode coming on January 2024!📯
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