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But did I ever leave home? The best thing about this trip was that I was with good friends. When I am with them, I feel at home. Now I am back in Kisangani, and I carry with me the great memories of the week in Nairobi and the week in Egypt. Friends are a great treasure. That’s the moral of the story–I’ll state that here and now.

My friends in Nairobi teach me about love and brotherhood. I observe the way that they care for one another, the way they move together around that crazy city full of its own kind of chaos. These guys bring peace into that chaos. While Kisangani doesn’t have many cars, Nairobi has too many and they seem mostly jammed up on the too-small roads much of the time. But you can be stuck in a traffic jam with good friends and the car is like a sanctuary. You sing your own four part harmony version of Paul Simon’s “Graceland”. You tell stories and bear burdens. Who cares if the tape deck is broken? You listen. This is the stuff.

I’m eager to get back to Nairobi whenever I can. I savored the warm “welcome back anytime” that I was left with as I stood in that security line watching my friends drive off through the terminal windows.

Flying to Cairo I enjoyed the view of the Nile, the lifeblood tracing through a sea of dust. Landing I saw lavish mansions under construction, colonizing the desert. My first impression was that the whole place is more or less all kinds of beige, save for the yellow cabs, signs on shops, advertisements, and the ramadan decorations.  It’s also intensely crowded in the city.

I’m embarrased to admit that I landed in Cairo without any contact information for my friend there, and not even knowing if she got the e-mail with my flight information. (I bought the ticket while I was in Nairobi.) I had the name of the hotel where I was planning to stay but I didn’t know if the reservation was confirmed there. I was a little clueless in a foreign land (I won’t do that again, Grandma). And let me tell you, when you land in Egypt- a plan is a good thing. The cab drivers and hustlers are pro. They will ask you where you are from and where you are headed and your mother’s maiden name and before you know it they’ve turned a lingering handshake into a $50 cab ride to somewhere you’re not going!  Don’t worry, I am resilient if not always too wise!
The best part of the story is the moment when a funky downtown cab rolled up and my friend Maria hopped out. Her smiling welcome to Egypt easily washed away the incessant perturbing “welcomes” I’d just endured. I’ve known Maria for almost ten years now and during that time she’s been increasingly concerned about changing the world for the better. By now she’s got something like seven post-grad degrees in International Relations and Middle-East Studies and world changing.  More amazing than all of that, she thrives in Egypt - not the easiest place for American women.  It was great to reconnect with her and see this wonderful place where she is living.

Much like my first time in Paris when I went straight away to the Eiffel Tower and climbed the stairs, we went straight to the Great Pyramids and I checked in to my hotel there (no climbing allowed on the pyramids). Now I am used to crazy offensive driving these days, but Egypt has to be one of the craziest street scenes in the world. I’m not sure who is more daring, the drivers or the pedestrians. I’ll admit that I am just a little proud of my travels in the sense that I still gasp when something crazy happens on the road but my heart doesn’t skip a beat anymore. When it came to crossing the busy streets I’d tell my friend that I was watching them and when they moved I’d move. If I watched the racing cars, I’d never budge at all or I’d get stuck in the middle. So when they dashed, I dashed. Apart from one harrowing moment when I was almost hit by a horse, I escaped unscathed.

Now I just need to figure out which stories to tell first…