I've always hated the sun.
It's ironic that of all places, I was born in Egypt where the sun is an unwanted constant companion. It's that annoying acquaintance you have who keeps insisting that you're best friends and tries to say "us" a lot in any context to put himself in the same league as you for his own weird personal agenda, or that persistent but not-so-bright girl who just won't get it and keeps trying to get with you even though the only way you could make it more clear that you're not interested is if you engraved the words "I DON'T LIKE YOU" on a bullet and shot her in the face with it.
I've always loved the London weather; gloomy, cold, dark and rainy... as moody and unpredictable as me. You know how people always say "be yourself"? Well you can bet London weather is being itself; it doesn't give the tiniest fuck about you or your plans or the arsenal of heavy swear words you will use when it starts raining randomly on a very sunny day in the middle of June... it just stays true to itself. I respect that. It shows strength of character, unlike the weak performance we see here in Egypt. It's like the weather lost its "Spring" and "Autumn (or Fall for y'all Americans)" DVDs and just keeps playing Summer and Winter all year and goes for a nap instead of doing it's job like a decent human being... but that's Egypt for you, even the weather doesn't do its job properly.
Even so, as these words passed through my exhausted, delirious brain, I would have given anything for a bit of Egyptian winter.
"One more step" I thought to myself, for what must have been the hundred thousandth time, but even as I thought it, I knew I was lying to myself. I lifted my head and scanned the horizons, and they were as dry and desolate as they'd been minutes ago, and as dry and desolate as they still would be when I eventually gave up, fell to my knees and surrendered to thirst and exhaustion. I hung my head again and focused on my own feet, slowly shuffling forward... it was better to not see how completely alone I was and how close I was to death.
I'd read somewhere that when you're lost in the desert -in the absence of any landmarks you can use to mark your progress- you unconsciously walk around in wide circles, because the muscles in your right leg (or left leg, if you're left-handed) are better developed and hence you will favor your right leg and walk to the left (or right) without even knowing it... in other words, I was even more screwed that I'd already been. Even if I were somehow capable of walking in a straight line, there was very little hope I would ever find my way out of that scorched hell... so imagine the progress I was making when I wasn't even moving forward at all.
The wind picked up. "Perfect, just what I needed" I thought to myself bitterly... a random shuffle of the sand dunes I'd been trying to memorize to mark my way forward... and sure enough, before I knew it a nice little sandstorm was brewing up to further obscure my vision and give me even less hope of ever finding my way out of that God-forsaken desert. Oh well... it's not like I could get any more fucked, right? I would have even welcomed the sound of any wild animals. An eagle, a fox, even a lion... anything that would indicate the presence of water anywhere in the vicinity... But alas, the only forms of life I'd run into so far were cacti, ants, beetles and the occasional snake.
I kept moving ahead, with no end in sight. The sun was directly overhead, beating down on my head mercilessly. I prayed for a heatstroke or a sunstroke... or any kind of stroke, really. Anything that would take me away from this terrible reality. The irony was that the sandstorm was partially blocking the sun, which was giving me a partial respite from its cruel gaze... but I think I would have rather taken my chances with the sun than the sandstorm... At least when it came to it, I'd be able to see the place where I died. At least I'd be able to choose the place where I'd finally give up and collapse. It was the tiniest bit of control possible, but still better than dying and being buried immediately by a vicious sandstorm and never being discovered for years.
The sandstorm raged on, getting more and more intense by the... by the what? Minute? Hour? I couldn't tell time anymore. The only thing I could say with a certainty is that it was still morning... but how long until dusk or how long I'd been stuck in that sandstorm, I had no clue. And it's not like dusk brought about any form of relief; I often laughed off the idea of finding shelter... there were no trees, no cliffs, no walls... nothing to shelter me from the wind, and whatever hell-spawn in this wasteland that cared enough to attack me here was welcome to do it. Frankly I felt sorry for whatever creature called this sandpit its home, and they were welcome to whatever fresh meat they could find, even my own. Besides, I didn't really care at that point. When I got too tired to move, I'd lie down wherever I stood and shiver myself to sleep in the freezing desert night until the sun woke me up again the next morning. If I were to not wake up, would that really have been so terrible?
The sky had shifted from yellow to brown now. I couldn't see my hand when I held it out in front of my face. My world smelled like dust and tasted like sand. Pain was my only reality, and thirst was a vulture, circling hungrily overhead as I grew steadily weaker and my steps began to falter. I stumbled and fell to one knee. Shakily, I got up again, only to get knocked on my back by a ferocious gust of wind. For a second I considered staying down, but my temper returned to me and I mentally reproached myself viciously. I wasn't going to die lying on my back. Furious, I got up and resumed my lonely trek. If only thirst were a tangible foe to confront... if only it were something I could fight, lose to with dignity and die nobly.
I fell again. This time I couldn't find it in me to get up, but I could still crawl. Only one thought was in my head: "I'm not going to die lying on my back". It fueled me, and I moved forward. "One more step" I thought to myself, knowing in my heart that I was a liar. I was dying, and sooner rather than later. I crawled, and I crawled. At some point I tried to get up again, and successfully walked a few paces before collapsing and giving up on upright movement altogether. Before I knew it I was moving forward at the prone position, like a soldier avoiding enemy fire. But the enemy fire was all around me, and there was nothing more I could do. I could feel the first stages of delirium setting in. It was almost as if I could literally see light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, now that I thought about it, the light at the end of the tunnel looked suspiciously like the glint of sunlight on water. Could it be?
The sight gave me a last desperate surge of power. I got back on my feet, and I stumbled forward again. I walked in the vague direction of my vision, and sure enough I could see it again. I began to run... but running in the sand is a bad idea and I felt the last dregs of energy draining away... so I slowed my pace down to a walk again. I could see it now. If it was a mirage, it was a crueler mirage than anything I'd ever seen. As I neared what looked like a pond, I finally became certain... I'd made it to an oasis. It was the most beautiful sight I could have ever seen... palm trees swaying in the sandstorm, green grass, even some desert hares that were taking shelter from the wind against the face of a small hill... But of course, I saw none of that. I saw my salvation. I jumped into the pond, opened my mouth wide and drank the sweet nectar of life. As the water flowed past my cracked lips and parched tongue, hot from the sun but more pleasant than anything I'd ever tasted in my life, watering my insides and filling me with the warm glow of hope... I smiled. At that moment, lying there in a stagnant pool of water in the middle of a desert, I felt hole, safe and sane again. At that moment, I knew life couldn't get more perfect.
I was saved. I wasn't going to die.
********************************************************************
Thank you for being my oasis.
It's ironic that of all places, I was born in Egypt where the sun is an unwanted constant companion. It's that annoying acquaintance you have who keeps insisting that you're best friends and tries to say "us" a lot in any context to put himself in the same league as you for his own weird personal agenda, or that persistent but not-so-bright girl who just won't get it and keeps trying to get with you even though the only way you could make it more clear that you're not interested is if you engraved the words "I DON'T LIKE YOU" on a bullet and shot her in the face with it.
I've always loved the London weather; gloomy, cold, dark and rainy... as moody and unpredictable as me. You know how people always say "be yourself"? Well you can bet London weather is being itself; it doesn't give the tiniest fuck about you or your plans or the arsenal of heavy swear words you will use when it starts raining randomly on a very sunny day in the middle of June... it just stays true to itself. I respect that. It shows strength of character, unlike the weak performance we see here in Egypt. It's like the weather lost its "Spring" and "Autumn (or Fall for y'all Americans)" DVDs and just keeps playing Summer and Winter all year and goes for a nap instead of doing it's job like a decent human being... but that's Egypt for you, even the weather doesn't do its job properly.
Even so, as these words passed through my exhausted, delirious brain, I would have given anything for a bit of Egyptian winter.
"One more step" I thought to myself, for what must have been the hundred thousandth time, but even as I thought it, I knew I was lying to myself. I lifted my head and scanned the horizons, and they were as dry and desolate as they'd been minutes ago, and as dry and desolate as they still would be when I eventually gave up, fell to my knees and surrendered to thirst and exhaustion. I hung my head again and focused on my own feet, slowly shuffling forward... it was better to not see how completely alone I was and how close I was to death.
I'd read somewhere that when you're lost in the desert -in the absence of any landmarks you can use to mark your progress- you unconsciously walk around in wide circles, because the muscles in your right leg (or left leg, if you're left-handed) are better developed and hence you will favor your right leg and walk to the left (or right) without even knowing it... in other words, I was even more screwed that I'd already been. Even if I were somehow capable of walking in a straight line, there was very little hope I would ever find my way out of that scorched hell... so imagine the progress I was making when I wasn't even moving forward at all.
The wind picked up. "Perfect, just what I needed" I thought to myself bitterly... a random shuffle of the sand dunes I'd been trying to memorize to mark my way forward... and sure enough, before I knew it a nice little sandstorm was brewing up to further obscure my vision and give me even less hope of ever finding my way out of that God-forsaken desert. Oh well... it's not like I could get any more fucked, right? I would have even welcomed the sound of any wild animals. An eagle, a fox, even a lion... anything that would indicate the presence of water anywhere in the vicinity... But alas, the only forms of life I'd run into so far were cacti, ants, beetles and the occasional snake.
I kept moving ahead, with no end in sight. The sun was directly overhead, beating down on my head mercilessly. I prayed for a heatstroke or a sunstroke... or any kind of stroke, really. Anything that would take me away from this terrible reality. The irony was that the sandstorm was partially blocking the sun, which was giving me a partial respite from its cruel gaze... but I think I would have rather taken my chances with the sun than the sandstorm... At least when it came to it, I'd be able to see the place where I died. At least I'd be able to choose the place where I'd finally give up and collapse. It was the tiniest bit of control possible, but still better than dying and being buried immediately by a vicious sandstorm and never being discovered for years.
The sandstorm raged on, getting more and more intense by the... by the what? Minute? Hour? I couldn't tell time anymore. The only thing I could say with a certainty is that it was still morning... but how long until dusk or how long I'd been stuck in that sandstorm, I had no clue. And it's not like dusk brought about any form of relief; I often laughed off the idea of finding shelter... there were no trees, no cliffs, no walls... nothing to shelter me from the wind, and whatever hell-spawn in this wasteland that cared enough to attack me here was welcome to do it. Frankly I felt sorry for whatever creature called this sandpit its home, and they were welcome to whatever fresh meat they could find, even my own. Besides, I didn't really care at that point. When I got too tired to move, I'd lie down wherever I stood and shiver myself to sleep in the freezing desert night until the sun woke me up again the next morning. If I were to not wake up, would that really have been so terrible?
The sky had shifted from yellow to brown now. I couldn't see my hand when I held it out in front of my face. My world smelled like dust and tasted like sand. Pain was my only reality, and thirst was a vulture, circling hungrily overhead as I grew steadily weaker and my steps began to falter. I stumbled and fell to one knee. Shakily, I got up again, only to get knocked on my back by a ferocious gust of wind. For a second I considered staying down, but my temper returned to me and I mentally reproached myself viciously. I wasn't going to die lying on my back. Furious, I got up and resumed my lonely trek. If only thirst were a tangible foe to confront... if only it were something I could fight, lose to with dignity and die nobly.
I fell again. This time I couldn't find it in me to get up, but I could still crawl. Only one thought was in my head: "I'm not going to die lying on my back". It fueled me, and I moved forward. "One more step" I thought to myself, knowing in my heart that I was a liar. I was dying, and sooner rather than later. I crawled, and I crawled. At some point I tried to get up again, and successfully walked a few paces before collapsing and giving up on upright movement altogether. Before I knew it I was moving forward at the prone position, like a soldier avoiding enemy fire. But the enemy fire was all around me, and there was nothing more I could do. I could feel the first stages of delirium setting in. It was almost as if I could literally see light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, now that I thought about it, the light at the end of the tunnel looked suspiciously like the glint of sunlight on water. Could it be?
The sight gave me a last desperate surge of power. I got back on my feet, and I stumbled forward again. I walked in the vague direction of my vision, and sure enough I could see it again. I began to run... but running in the sand is a bad idea and I felt the last dregs of energy draining away... so I slowed my pace down to a walk again. I could see it now. If it was a mirage, it was a crueler mirage than anything I'd ever seen. As I neared what looked like a pond, I finally became certain... I'd made it to an oasis. It was the most beautiful sight I could have ever seen... palm trees swaying in the sandstorm, green grass, even some desert hares that were taking shelter from the wind against the face of a small hill... But of course, I saw none of that. I saw my salvation. I jumped into the pond, opened my mouth wide and drank the sweet nectar of life. As the water flowed past my cracked lips and parched tongue, hot from the sun but more pleasant than anything I'd ever tasted in my life, watering my insides and filling me with the warm glow of hope... I smiled. At that moment, lying there in a stagnant pool of water in the middle of a desert, I felt hole, safe and sane again. At that moment, I knew life couldn't get more perfect.
I was saved. I wasn't going to die.
********************************************************************
Thank you for being my oasis.
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