The downfall of a Cairo Champion

After a year of living in the crowded, filthy downtown streets, I have earned my baladi credentials. When we moved into the Ahmed Shokry St. Apartment, nestled in the middle of the auto district, with the family of seven living in the one-bedroom flat across the hall, Kent and I decided to "zazz it up" by painting the living room neon blue. Kent got the paint from some guy down the road, and we painted until I inhaled enough blue to get a vicious cough that didn't leave for two weeks. The paint metastasized in my lungs right around the same time I was supposed to do the edgings (along with other gaping patches of primer). So we gave up, went on vacation, and promised to finish the job when we got back.

Since then I've moved to Israel and back, went to the USA and back, and finally, moved the hell out (Hello, houseboat on the Nile!). Kent leaves permanently on August 20. Kent's already brought in replacement tenants to tool around the neighborhood calling everyone basha, but all the same, I still feel the need to make a statement.


Kent Babin:
You are a disgrace to all that we stand for in Cairo. A job half done? Who do you think you are, The Cairo Metro planning committee? There isn't ever going to be a third line through Zamalek, but there sure as hell better be a completely blue room on the ninth floor of that building before you fly back to Canada.

All your months eating fuul, wearing your man-dress, and making our oven explode are meaningless if you don't finish the room. I won't be able to respect you once you're gone. The blue room is your last Cairo challenge. Go on, make the world a better place.

I may have sold out, but we all saw that coming. You on the other hand were meant to be baladi until the bitter end. Don't let down all those neighborhood kids who look up to you for your foreign passport and delicate white skin.
Paint the room.

A photo montage to remind you of your responsibilities to past and future residents:
(Former roommate Natasha, braving the unfinished paint job while sitting in the internet corner.)

(Kent, entertaining guests, amongst the fake-book TV stand, and giant hole in the wall. Please notice all the white spots, and hidden terror the guests feel.)

(Finally, me, sitting in the internet corner making a stupid face and wearing my favorite winter outfit. Hoodie, jacket, green scarf, thermal sleeping bag, unwashed hair. The tape is still on the windowsill for Kent to finish painting, and I am too depressed by the uneven wall color to breathe regularly. )


I'm calling you out, Babin. Yala ya Kent. Yala.