Maysoun and Bassim met one day after Bassim came home from working as a geologist in the oil fields of Iraq. His hair was scraggly, his clothes drenched in oil, so it was to be expected that Maysoun would not spare him even a second glance. But when Bassim mentioned that Herman Hesse was one of his favorite authors, Maysoun changed her mind. The wild and unkempt hair and clothes no longer mattered. She had found her soul mate.
Maysoun and Bassim now live in a suburb an hour away from Cairo with their three young children Hadir, age 16 and Ramy and Fady, both twins and age 12. Maysoun works as a fashion designer, designing and sewing clothes inside their small apartment. Maysoun supports the entire family with her earnings.
Bassim volunteers four hours a week as a professor of math and science because the university will not hire him. Although unpaid, the work is good for him, to help keep up his morale and to keep him active doing something during the otherwise uneventful and monotonous days that fill up their lives. Bassim also cooks for the family while Maysoun works and boasts he can cook the most delicious Iraqi meals. But he is also careful to tell us that if they were in Iraq, Maysoun would be doing the cooking.
Hadir, Ramy and Fady are all going to private school, costing them 5,000 Egyptian pounds or about $US 1,000 a year, paid for by the family savings, which are fast dwindling. Unlike Jordan and Syria, Iraqi children are not permitted to attend primary public schools in Egypt. The only option for free education is the Al-Azhar school, which is devoted to Sunni religious teachings and open only to Sunni Iraqis.
Shi’a Iraqis are having a difficult time in Egypt, a Sunni majority country. Sudanese, Somali and Eritrean refugees are able to develop aid and service organizations to assist their communities, but not Iraqis. Fearful that the Shi’a sect would gain hold in Egypt, Iraqis are not permitted to build mosques or develop organizations and associations in their communities.
Here in Egypt, Maysoun and Bassim are finding it difficult to keep the family together. They used to live in another suburb with other Iraqi families, but have been forced to move to a less desirable neighborhood, due to dwindling savings.
Their lives in Baghdad seem only a distant memory now. In Baghdad, Bassim and Maysoun had a library, the shelves stacked to the brim with thousands of books, Eastern and Western, although Maysoun has a particular weak spot for German writers.
Before they fled Baghdad, Bassim offered his books to friends and neighbors but no one would accept his gift. He couldn’t understand why. Unable to imagine his books destroyed by strange hands that would occupy his home in due course, Bassim burned his books, one by one. Only ashes remained to remind him of the letters, the words, and the phrases strung together by great writers that inspired and touched his soul.
I cried when I heard this story. I could feel his passion and attachment, not just for the books, but also for what the books represented – a past life, a glorious life, of thought, study and reflection – all shattered by this tragic war. I imagined my own library of books destroyed and all the great libraries and museums that I loved since childhood burned to ashes and I cried for the tragedy that has befallen all of us.
That evening, Maysoun and Bassim and I recounted all the books we loved by writers that we cherished – Herman Hesse, Gabriel Garcia Marquéz, André Gide, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Yukio Mishima and so many more. The words that touched me also touched them once upon a time. We are not so different after all – seeking truth and beauty in life.
Maysoun and Bassim now live in a suburb an hour away from Cairo with their three young children Hadir, age 16 and Ramy and Fady, both twins and age 12. Maysoun works as a fashion designer, designing and sewing clothes inside their small apartment. Maysoun supports the entire family with her earnings.
Bassim volunteers four hours a week as a professor of math and science because the university will not hire him. Although unpaid, the work is good for him, to help keep up his morale and to keep him active doing something during the otherwise uneventful and monotonous days that fill up their lives. Bassim also cooks for the family while Maysoun works and boasts he can cook the most delicious Iraqi meals. But he is also careful to tell us that if they were in Iraq, Maysoun would be doing the cooking.
Hadir, Ramy and Fady are all going to private school, costing them 5,000 Egyptian pounds or about $US 1,000 a year, paid for by the family savings, which are fast dwindling. Unlike Jordan and Syria, Iraqi children are not permitted to attend primary public schools in Egypt. The only option for free education is the Al-Azhar school, which is devoted to Sunni religious teachings and open only to Sunni Iraqis.
Shi’a Iraqis are having a difficult time in Egypt, a Sunni majority country. Sudanese, Somali and Eritrean refugees are able to develop aid and service organizations to assist their communities, but not Iraqis. Fearful that the Shi’a sect would gain hold in Egypt, Iraqis are not permitted to build mosques or develop organizations and associations in their communities.
Here in Egypt, Maysoun and Bassim are finding it difficult to keep the family together. They used to live in another suburb with other Iraqi families, but have been forced to move to a less desirable neighborhood, due to dwindling savings.
Their lives in Baghdad seem only a distant memory now. In Baghdad, Bassim and Maysoun had a library, the shelves stacked to the brim with thousands of books, Eastern and Western, although Maysoun has a particular weak spot for German writers.
Before they fled Baghdad, Bassim offered his books to friends and neighbors but no one would accept his gift. He couldn’t understand why. Unable to imagine his books destroyed by strange hands that would occupy his home in due course, Bassim burned his books, one by one. Only ashes remained to remind him of the letters, the words, and the phrases strung together by great writers that inspired and touched his soul.
I cried when I heard this story. I could feel his passion and attachment, not just for the books, but also for what the books represented – a past life, a glorious life, of thought, study and reflection – all shattered by this tragic war. I imagined my own library of books destroyed and all the great libraries and museums that I loved since childhood burned to ashes and I cried for the tragedy that has befallen all of us.
That evening, Maysoun and Bassim and I recounted all the books we loved by writers that we cherished – Herman Hesse, Gabriel Garcia Marquéz, André Gide, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Yukio Mishima and so many more. The words that touched me also touched them once upon a time. We are not so different after all – seeking truth and beauty in life.
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