| Page 2 of 3 < > |
Breaking the Fast With Family, Friends And Late-Night Fun
Sally Safaa el-Din, 21, right, enjoys an early morning out with friends in Cairo after she and family members broke the daily Ramadan fast with a meal at home after sunset.
(By Nora Younis For The Washington Post)
TOOLBOX
   Resize
COMMENT
 Discussion Policy
 CLOSE
Comments that include profanity or personal attacks or other inappropriate comments or material will be removed from the site. Additionally, entries that are unsigned or contain "signatures" by someone other than the actual author will be removed. Finally, we will take steps to block users who violate any of our posting standards, terms of use or privacy policies or any other policies governing this site. Please review the full rules governing commentaries and discussions. You are fully responsible for the content that you post.
Who's Blogging  |
Waiters stood by tables set up on sidewalks and under overpasses, ready to serve free iftar meals to workers and poor families, courtesy of Cairo's wealthy.
Sally's father, car dealer Ahmed Safaa el-Din, and her older brother, Ahmad, glided through the front door just before and just after sunset.
What the family and their guests ate: the pigeons, lamb cutlets, cabbage leaves stuffed with rice and spices, pasta soup with duck broth, cakes with minced meat, rice cooked in milk, boiled greens and salad.
"We eat like this every day," Maii insisted, before dropping her claim under gentle mockery from the diners.
The family normally goes to Ramadan prayers after the meal -- one cleric in Cairo, known as "Turbo-sheik," is famous for getting worshipers in and out in a half-hour. But this night the building's elevator was out of order, making the trip to the mosque too difficult for the parents, Maii said.
Stuffed, the family moved first to its formal living room, with its high-backed, gilded chairs, then eased back to the parents' bedroom, lolling on the bed before the family's only television set, as Maii and Ahmed idly stroked Sally's hair.
They talked of politics and the children's jobs. For Ahmad, 25, a civil engineering degree had brought a job as a cellphone engineer, climbing towers without a safety harness.
Sally's mother spoke of the English training Sally had received, and wistfully of her putting it to use professionally. But Sally was selling five or six cars a month at a Peugeot dealership, in a job she had gotten with her father's help. She was making good money.
Sally's dream job, she said, was to sell BMWs.
They nibbled on sweets, ate rice pudding, then apricot pudding, easing it down with apricot juice and hibiscus essence and tea.
Ahmad, who lives by himself, excused himself early. He went first to his mother and then to his father, formally shaking their hands before leaving.
At 11, Sally changed her T-shirt for a satiny top. She stepped out into a city roaring with Ramadan revelry -- children setting off firecrackers, adults yakking in packed sidewalk cafes.
