Drinking Tea in Dahab

We walk along the boardwalk, lazily, because we have nowhere to go. To my right are the Sinai Mountains. To my left, across the Red Sea, is Saudi Arabia, mountainous and covered in haze. In front of us is the beautiful, vast sea, today filled with windsurfers making the most of this incredibly windy day. And behind us is my now favorite place in Egypt, the town of Dahab.

We decide to sit on the beach awhile and enjoy the sun and the sea as we watch the windsurfers. Being in Dahab inspires easy conversation about life between me and Amy. For one thing, while here we are free of the cultural customs we have to adhere to in Cairo. We can wear sundresses – bathing suits even - and not be showing blatant disregard for what is culturally appropriate and wise. It is easy to feel freer in Dahab, not just because of our clothing but because of the slow pace of life here. Dahab is frequented by windsurfers, divers, and Europeans, so the general mood is definitely chill. But something about the sea brings about thoughts of freedom too. That, along with the quiet air, the smog-free breeze, and the space free of millions of people is a welcome and stark contrast from Cairo.

As we sit discussing these thoughts, we are interrupted by a little girl, asking us to buy one of her colorful, handmade bracelets. She is one of the Bedouin girls, the desert people, many of whom live in Dahab. Amy and I decline, but ask her what her name is in Arabic. Delighted that we (Amy), can speak Arabic, she promptly invites us to drink tea with her mother and grandmother, who are sitting just a bit away on the beach. I understand only bits of this conversation, so as we start to walk with her Amy explains to me what is going on. Later Amy and I talk about the fact that this is one of the many reasons we are friends. She knows I do not understand the question, “will you come have tea with us?” But she does not feel the need to translate, ask my opinion, and then answer. She knows that of course I would be delighted to drink tea with our new friends. And I am.

We walk to their little campsite, where her mother, her aunt, and her grandmother have a small fire built and are sitting around, looking after children of various ages. They accept us graciously and we start to discuss what we can in limited Arabic. Amy continues to amaze me (and herself), with her ability to converse. And I pick up what I can. =)

We spend the next hour speaking in broken Arabic and English and enjoying the sweet, sugary tea that Bedouins drink and share constantly. I find that drawing in the sand is a great tool for both playing and teaching English words to the children in exchange for Arabic words. The crazy grandmother gets up and dances for awhile, and she sings a song that the mothers join in on. Amy and I laugh and clap along with them. The little boy and I play peek-a-boo, a game that never fails.

After awhile, Ames and I decide it is time to move on in life. We are due at another Bedouin home in a few hours. Before we leave, the mother asks if we will come to their house that night to drink more tea. Of course, we would be delighted. We make a plan to meet one of the children at a market nearby and they will take us to their house. And we say goodbye, knowing that tea drinking and Arabic and English exchanges will resume that evening.

This is what I love about the way Amy and I live in Dahab. We are not there to windsurf, or to dive, or even to climb Mt. Sinai, although that certainly will happen later. We are simply there to be, and let the day unfold as it will. Amy discovered this summer her ability to form friendships with the Bedouin girls who walk the boardwalk selling bracelets. They have grown up selling bracelets to foreigners, and as a result many of the teenagers are fluent in English. There are about a million reasons why we should not be able to understand each other – we come from completely different worlds. With each interaction we had with a Bedouin girl, I came away amazed, intrigued, and confused by their culture. I came away even more amazed by the fact that despite our differences, we could find things to connect over. Easily.

So this is why we love Dahab. The sea and the air and the freedom are huge bonuses, but the friendships we are building with the girls there are the reason we go. The whole time we were there I kept thinking, “We are so privileged to be here right now.”

However, this is not the end of the Dahab story. A camel ride, an octopus freshly caught from the sea (who I am sad to say, does not become a pet in this tale), and many more experiences of connecting across cultures are still to come…