Months had past and the new school opened, which was a relief because now I could walk to school rather than ride the bar of Salem’s bike.
On the way to school every morning I pass the carts of the garbage collectors on Port Said Street. They were called Zabaleen after zabala (garbage). They were the self appointed garbage people who rode down the streets of Maadi and collected all of our garbage. Most of it they burned outside the walls of the old city of Fustat, they rest they recycle in some way. The NOISIEST carts belong to them. Their donkey carts looked like huge boxes with no top and one side missing, the wheels of the cart were huge, bigger than the cart made out of what looked like a single slab of wood.
The children sat on the heaps of garbage in the cart while the father sat on the shaft of the cart. Flies buzzed around the cart and were often seen in the corner of the eyes of the children. They flew down Port Said Street, laughing and joking, their father calling out greetings to passersby.
Early one morning we woke to a banging sound. Someone was banging on the door. It was the ‘Zabala’ boy who daily collected the trash from our house into a huge loosely woven basket. This time he looked like he had cleaned up some. His face was somewhat cleaner, like it had been washed and there were no flies in his eyes. His donkey cart waited just outside our garden gate, His hand was outstretched. “Merry Christmas” he said and stared at me. “Merry Christmas? Its not Christmas.”” I replied and stared back at him. The boy remained standing at our doorstep. As I started to close the door, he said again rather quickly this time “Ya Mazmazelle….Merry Christmas Bakshish!?
He wanted baksish? I was confused it was not Christmas and he got paid. I know that my mother even paid extra for him to collect it everyday.
Mom came down the stairs and handed the boy 5 piasters. “Merry Christmas” she said and smiled. He saluted her with the money in his hand and said “Merry Christmas Madame” with the biggest smile he could muster. He then leaped off the stoop and ran out of the gate. He pulled his donkey cart along to the next house and ran inside.
“It was his holiday present” mom said softly as she closed the door.
“But Mom”…I said, “it is not Christmas, its not even thanksgiving!’
No, princess its not, the garbage boy is Muslim, and its one of their feast days. Today you will not see Ateya or Salem either, they are with their families. I suggest you go read a book.
Please note that most of the Zabaleen were Christians)
On the way to school every morning I pass the carts of the garbage collectors on Port Said Street. They were called Zabaleen after zabala (garbage). They were the self appointed garbage people who rode down the streets of Maadi and collected all of our garbage. Most of it they burned outside the walls of the old city of Fustat, they rest they recycle in some way. The NOISIEST carts belong to them. Their donkey carts looked like huge boxes with no top and one side missing, the wheels of the cart were huge, bigger than the cart made out of what looked like a single slab of wood.
The children sat on the heaps of garbage in the cart while the father sat on the shaft of the cart. Flies buzzed around the cart and were often seen in the corner of the eyes of the children. They flew down Port Said Street, laughing and joking, their father calling out greetings to passersby.
Early one morning we woke to a banging sound. Someone was banging on the door. It was the ‘Zabala’ boy who daily collected the trash from our house into a huge loosely woven basket. This time he looked like he had cleaned up some. His face was somewhat cleaner, like it had been washed and there were no flies in his eyes. His donkey cart waited just outside our garden gate, His hand was outstretched. “Merry Christmas” he said and stared at me. “Merry Christmas? Its not Christmas.”” I replied and stared back at him. The boy remained standing at our doorstep. As I started to close the door, he said again rather quickly this time “Ya Mazmazelle….Merry Christmas Bakshish!?
He wanted baksish? I was confused it was not Christmas and he got paid. I know that my mother even paid extra for him to collect it everyday.
Mom came down the stairs and handed the boy 5 piasters. “Merry Christmas” she said and smiled. He saluted her with the money in his hand and said “Merry Christmas Madame” with the biggest smile he could muster. He then leaped off the stoop and ran out of the gate. He pulled his donkey cart along to the next house and ran inside.
“It was his holiday present” mom said softly as she closed the door.
“But Mom”…I said, “it is not Christmas, its not even thanksgiving!’
No, princess its not, the garbage boy is Muslim, and its one of their feast days. Today you will not see Ateya or Salem either, they are with their families. I suggest you go read a book.
Please note that most of the Zabaleen were Christians)
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