Covert Operations in Everyday Egypt

Saturday mornings in the Fase household differed greatly from typical (coveted), American cartoons, sugared cocoa puff cereal, and sleeping in past 9AM. Nope, I associate Saturday morning with the smell of Clorox Bleach and laundry detergent, the clinking sounds of pots as my dad fries up an unidentifiable “barbequed breakfast” at 6AM while singing, and sometimes a glorious trip to Sam’s Club where we can save a penny buying three years worth of mustard. Weekends were always lively and fun, but only after the chores were done.

Still, we didn’t fret when we heard the 6AM smoke detector sound, notifying all of us that breakfast was ready; we were “Fase Kids” which meant that we had the ability to turn any event in to a strategic game. The five of us kids would divide up chores in order to conquer the tasks as quickly as humanly possible. There were the bathrooms, the kitchen, vacuuming, sweeping, organizing, dusting, and as you can imagine seven days worth of seven peoples’ laundry, and yet for some strange reason when my mom sounded the “cleaning time!” call, we would all call back, “I’ll clean my room!” as we ran for sanctuary behind our bedroom doors.

There is a particular strategy behind cleaning your room. You see, it is a covert operation that allows the individual to hang out, listen to music, and pick up his/her stuff, while the rest of the Fase world recreates a germ-free, dust ridden utopia within the communal living environment. The individual room cleaning is really just a game of avoidance, because though necessary, it should be done on your own time when the rest of the Fase family isn’t paying their dues and fulfilling an aspect of their family duties by scrubbing other people’s germs out of the toilet. This is an essential facet of future family dynamics that I insist on eliminating during the next generational phase. My children will not inherit this devious behavior, but instead look at me and say, “Why yes mother, I would be happy to scrub the tub. I just finished all the laundry and the toilets. Would you like me to use Soft scrub or Comet?” (And then they’ll go read a classical book or study the ancient Hebrew scripts.)

While living in Egypt I witnessed the “professional, business” version of the room cleaning strategy on a daily, perhaps hourly, basis through the observation of workmen and women on campus. Tis true! The Egyptians learned strategic, avoidance techniques… probably when the French were here! To set the stage, the campus is located in the Sahara Desert. Therefore, there is a substantial amount of sand surrounding the area. The campus has chosen to spend a significant portion of my tuition attempting to grow flowers, trees, and other herbage with roots, and what they lack in foliage they make up for with rocks. Despite their efforts, the sand has deviously crept in, but rather than openly accepted the underhanded sandy villain, the campus staff wages an all out Jihad against this dust each day… except Friday when they are in the mosque.

The first stage of battle begins in the morning hours when housekeepers attempt to catch the sand off guard and clean the sidewalks. These wide, stone tile sidewalks make up the majority of the campus, so this job is similar to sweeping a suburban street… everyday…. And then getting on your hands and knees and cleaning it until you can use it as a plate for your hummus and fatoush! Despite the sandy wind and packs of students with their sneakers, the tiles are thoroughly scrubbed with dish soap and water, perhaps to prevent swine flu? Some housekeepers then move on to scrubbing large rocks that are systematically placed in areas no one would ever want to sit while others water the sand near the weeds that are attempting to grow. Some decide to sweep the fountains with a rough broom, and some try to make peace with the sand by just patting it down, hoping it will stay in place. I can’t help but wonder as I watch this housekeeper dutifully scrub the rock while sweating his little, Egyptian balls off in the 100 degree desert heat, what is the benefit of a germ free, dust free rock that only the scrubbing duster touches?

Then, just before these questions completely blow my mind, I go in to the bathroom and find no toilet paper and no soap. I walk across the sand covered gym floor towards the elliptical sticky with sweat and smell the workout of the person before me. I eat dinner on a table laden with ketchup and flies, wishing I could go back to the days of delicious barbequed breakfast. And THAT is when I realize that all of this scrubbing is simply the strategic plan of avoidance I mastered in my youth.