By my third month in Egypt, I’d frequently encountered not only how common dialogue surrounding Palestine was but specifically, how common support for Palestine was seen casually displayed. Going into Egypt knowing about the government’s strategic albeit strained relationship with Israel, as well as the refrain people have for openly talking about politics made this a surprise, but one I was happy to encounter. With this in mind, it wasn’t as surprising when an Egyptian friend at the American University in Cairo asked our friend group if we wanted to go with her to a charity to pack food and supplies to be shipped to Gaza.
Our plan was for her and I to meet up at an address she gave me, while two more of our friends had planned to join later in the day. Upon arrival at the time and place she’d given me, however, I immediately felt a sense of unease because I didn’t see her or any welcoming environment.
The green trucks said “Gourmet food” written on them, so I figured if we were going to be packing food supplies that might’ve been a good place to look. My mind immediately went into problem-solving mode, and I thought it would look strange for someone to be standing still around the packing area, waiting. I decided to continue exploring cautiously, keeping my eyes open for anything. Upon approaching the green food trucks, I found restaurant staff sitting outside a warehouse and thought to ask for help; they weren’t armed guards like I’d already seen at malls and other public areas, and I thought maybe the restaurant was working in collaboration with the charity. All I could ask in my rudimentary Arabic was something like “food packing today?”, and all I could understand in my rudimentary Arabic was “come back tomorrow.” I kept walking, not wanting to stay in one spot too long, trying to get in touch with my friend who kept saying she was 10 minutes away.
An hour late, she finally showed up. I’d thought about leaving several times but kept thinking an opportunity like this might not happen again. I knew her well enough to trust that she wasn’t leading me on a wild goose chase but shouldn’t have trusted her to be on time.
She finally led me to a basement entrance (I realize how sketchy this may sound but, once more, I trusted her) where we joined the Resala Charity Organization’s packing event. It was an absolute joy to see so many people working quickly and in tandem; it was a privilege to be a part of it. I found myself inspired not just by the work this organization was doing, but also by the apolitical nature of it. I’m not sure that’s the best phrasing, but for me, it was new to see a group of so many people interacting with the Palestinian struggle in a way that was not a debate, not a protest, but purely for support.
I was very hesitant to take videos, but my friend said several times that it was okay (she was recording on her Ray-Ban Meta glasses the whole time), and I really wanted some sort of documentation. Still, these two are the only videos I took.
We never found the time to go back, and I can’t help but feeling I should have done more. I became very aware of my positionality because for me, this experience had been optional, not an obligation or a way of life that could very well be the case for some of the other workers that day. Once again, the sense of community, with people young and old all working together and happily left a profound impact on me.
The kids insisted on getting their pictures taken with us. My aforementioned Egyptian friend didn’t want to be in any photos.
