My own Egypt

When I was fifteen, I spent a summer in Egypt. I stayed at the Lillian Trasher Orphanage in Asyut, Egypt. It was my first trip out of the country--and it transformed me.

I was there with an organization that sought to teach teenagers about the mission field in the most realistic way possible. It was a fairly fundamentalist organization and there were lots of rules. I was fairly pliant and willing to emerge myself in the experience. We memorized Scripture (in the KJV), we read missionary biographies, and we learned how to adapt to our host culture.

At the orphanage, I remember being a bit overwhelmed by our situation. The compound was surrounded by a nine-foot wall that had bits of broken glass cemented on the top (third-world barbed wire). It looked menacing. We had an armed guard that would walk the grounds at night--he was an older gentleman carrying a rifle (I'm not sure how effective he would be in an emergency), still he was there. There were mosques with minarets in the city surrounding us that would issue the call to prayer five times a day (one at three in the morning) from a loudspeaker.

We spent our days painting the walls of a baby dormitory in the orphanage. My clothes became splattered in pink and blue paint. It was hot. We washed our clothes in buckets on the roof and then hung them out to dry. It was amazing how quickly our clothes would dry in the sun. The nights were cool, and occasionally we would sleep on the roof of our dorm. There were banana trees and grapevines covered in grapes near our building. There were also lime trees and our female leader mastered the art of making fabulous limeade. The orphanage's kitchen was on the first floor of our building and they made fresh pita every day. They also slaughtered animals in the courtyard.

Our area was separate from the area where the kids lived. We saw them from afar, and on a few occasions we got to spend time with them. The director explained that some of the kids went to visit with family during the summer, so not all of them were there. There was still a lot of them running around, playing games, singing, and generally making lots of noise. Several of them had diseases and deformities, which explained their presence at the orphanage. They were excited to have us there visiting.

I came home different than when I had left. I viewed the world differently. I understood need differently. I looked at food differently. My priorities had narrowed. I was focused. I knew that I could no longer play around at faith.

As the Arab world contracts and shakes in the next few weeks, I will be thinking about that little oasis in Asyut. I will be thinking about that hot sun, that sonorous call to prayer, the dust that clings to everything--and how I was changed. I'll be praying for the people of Egypt and their neighbors. Praying that they will be able to have a voice and that there will be peace.