32

March 17

I have had many different brushes with cultural differences, but last week I had a very interesting thing happen to me.

Many of us were going out for a celebration. A teacher from my school was fortunate enough to have visitors coming and wanted to give them a fun experience in Egypt.

So, we loaded up supplies - lots of food and beverages for a Nile boat cruise - and hopped in a cab, planning to make one stop along the way for additional items.

Providing the food yourself is the only way to go on this type of adventure, both for the economy of the voyage and the safety in knowing the food will be appropriate, tasty, and safe.

Then, as can only happen in Egypt, our original cab broke down while we were loading up more groceries for the night. So, without a moments hesitation, and despite our driver's assurances he would get the car started, we grabbed a new cab, transferred our things, and hopped in.

10 minutes later, we arrived and unloaded everything we had brought along. Everything, that is, except a bag I had along with me for the day. Inside was an iPod, my camera, and some other various odds and ends.

Needless to say, I was devastated. I went on with the night, hoping that one of two things would happen.

The one I was not hoping for - the cabby was immoral (actually very rare here), very poor and in need (common here) or of a certain belief that found goods were gifts from God, and money isn't really owned by any of us.

What I was hoping for, and what happened, miracoulously, became a reality less than 24 hours later. My phone rang.

Deep inside my bag I had an electric company receipt from my flat. The cabby found it, and drove all the way back in to my apartment from his house. He lived in Helwan - a area of town where many cab drivers live, and one that certainly is not very wealthy. In his run down 30 year old cab, he traced his way to my neighborhood, to my building, and found someone who knew my number.

I was away from my apartment, and I could make out only 1 of every 10 words I was hearing in Arabic on my cell phone, but I instantly knew what was happening. I quickly grabbed a cab and got home to find my bowab, the cabby from the night before, and one other man I recognized but could not place. In their hands was my bag from the night before.

I did a very terse check, actually just glancing in as a reflex action. I was certain that either everything was there, or everything there was all I could expect to get back.

Without skipping a beat, I handed each of the two men that I felt must have been responsible for returning the bag a reward. They seemed happy, and I hopped back in my cab to return to might original plan for the night.

In the end, I was left feeling happy and amazed with the kindness and generosity of the men, especially when the value of the goods in the bag sold, even if sold second hand, could easily have garnered them more than a months expected pay on a cabbie's salary in Cairo.