I think if I ever wanted to have a get-away place in Egypt, it would be in Aswan. It is a quick flight away from Cairo and is relaxing and replenishing. In Aswan, one feels the strength of the desert pulsing up against the shores of the Nile. It is a calmness, and a scented air which mixes river water with flowering plants with dry desert. One can smell each breeze separately whether it comes from desert, river or plant life, and these separate smells intertwine with each other in the same way that the criss crossed red streaks of sunset stood out as separate against the various blues and purples of the sky and the black silhouette of palm trees. Watching that sunset the river changed from blue to gold to red all in contrast with a bright purple bougainvillea bush.
We had spent the day floating on the Nile in Bibi Bana's boat. My friend Susan had known Bibi for sixteen years and had told him by letter, that we would be arriving. We had looked for him at Mahmoud's shop the night we arrived, but didn't find him. The next day was the first day of the feast, and we assumed that he was probably busy with family things. So we planned to go draw at Kirchner's island known for its abundance and variety of plants. But, when we arrived at the dock, there was BIbi, waiting at his boat, smiling and waving to us. Apparently he had waited for us all day yesterday and was here again this morning, waiting. We got on the boat, and he quickly pulled out from shore. As Susan asked him how he was, he burst into tears. I had just shaken hands for the first time with this dark man dressed in a white galabeya and small, grey cap and now he was sobbing silently. "My mother", he said "She died December 21st".
As I found out later, on this feast day, it is customary to visit the graves of loved ones. Through my sleep, I had been woken by the sounds from the minarets blending and bouncing together, and instead of ending with the call to prayer it had continued for what seemed like hours as I dozed and slept and through the sounds. After prayers, each family, who can afford it, slaughters a lamb on their doorstep and with the blood of the lamb they mark their doorways with wide open handprints. That day I saw many doorways marked with five or six handprints of all different sizes. After the sacrifice, they go to visit the family graves.
All this, had been too much for Bibi and he told us that he did not want to spend the day with his family, it was too sad without his mother there. So, instead, he brought us up the Nile, around islands and rocks. He could imitate the noise of the whirlpools and for fun he let the boat go turning in circles. After his initial sadness, he became quite jolly and talkative telling Susan about all the events of the past year.
I occupied myself with taking pictures and drawing. Everywhere I looked, I saw something I wanted to draw. Between the water reflections, the island greenery, the rocks jutting from the water, the sand dunes, the islamic architecture mixed with Nubian brightly painted villages, I had everything I could think of, all in one place. Bibi was full of stories and I was sorry that I couldn't listen to them much as I drew. I asked him, to stop near one of the water worn rocks that rose up from the water like a large monument and later, I drew the reflections in the water of a golden high sand dune which rose up against the sky. We walked barefoot in the sand, burning our feet - I wondered if the heat could actually burn the skin, it was so hot. The day seemed lazy and tranquil. Birds were everywhere. Kingfishers, Egrets, Blue Herons, and what they called Nile Chickens. "These are not ducks," Bibi said, "they don't have webbed feet". We drifted between islands and motored against the current, moving south into desert. Surrounded by water, and protected from the sun by the roof of the boat, one felt at one with the land and the nature.
Aswan is full of Nubian culture which seems closer to Sudanese than to Egyptian. People have said that the Nubians are more in touch with nature, and I can believe this to be true. Hasan Fathy, it has been said, took many of his ideas about architecture from the Nubian villages. Bibi seemed happy on the Nile. He would imitate the sound and movement of the whirpools or the birds. And he did a great imitation of tourists which ranged from Japanese to Black Americans. We visited both his Nubian village and his new home in a cement apartment complex where he lives with his five children, his sister and his wife. While his heart is in the village, the new apartment has running water and electricity. The lace covered chairs contrasted strongly with the plainness of the Nubian dwelling we had visited earlier that day. His children still go to the village and play, returning to the apartment only at night.
In the village we visited the mosque. On this feast day, it is customary for women to bring food in baskets and leave it at the mosque for anyone who was hungry. We ate lamb and rice and a mixture of a breaded sauce/gravy covered by an enormous brightly colored flat oval basket lid. Each lid was made with a different pattern and set of colors. In conjunction with the colored walls, the three or four baskets made the place look very festive. Now back in Cairo I place the large colored ovals basket lids on my walls, as a reminder of the taste and smells and peace of this Nubian Nile culture.