Laying It On Thick

Here we are where it all began with a big hole on March 28th. The "Saharawy" evaporative cooler now resides seamlessly in the patched wall. This morning I was at the paint shop when it opened at 10am to buy another gallon. I used almost the entire can. The colour seems somewhat 'richer' than the original: I'm not sure if this is a result of my laying in on thick, or if the fellows at the shop didn't quite get the colour code exact. Doesn't matter. It looks good. Ilhumdulila!


A dust storm was already blowing when I woke up this morning but that didn't stop the farmers from loading up their donkey carts with bales of chaff. The photo was taken at 6:45, so they must have started at 6am.


On my way to the ferry, I spotted another herd of camels, which looked younger than those in the banana grove the other day. This must be the season for the great camel drive from Sudan to the market in Cairo. Camels walk across the desert to Luxor, where they are put on trucks and transported to the Friday market in Imbaba.


They looked a little thin after their strenuous journey, however, everyone seemed content with their breakfast of clover (birseem). I suspect that they are being fatten up so that they catch a better price in Cairo.


As I waited for a motor launch, I spotted a friendly croc. The boat is named after the Egyptian god of creation, fertility, strength, and protection: Sobek.


I keep a careful eye on the waters in the canal beside our home looking for Sobek's cousin, the Nile Monitor. The lilies have been blooming for about a week and with the banana plant blossoming the canal looked quite exotic. Neighbourhood boys were swimming in it as I returned home from the paint expedition. I'll keep to the chlorinated pool.

Threshing Time

I had forewarning yesterday afternoon that the wheat would be threshed today. I wasn't prepared, however, to wake up to the groaning of the motor. Farmers are early risers all over the world, I guess.


And so the job begins. I haven't seen threshing since my days working at the pioneer village. It was interesting to watch one fellow sew the bags shut as the next bag filled with grain. Two men had a tough time lugging a full bag a few meters. The spray of chaff stretched for 50 meters. That will be bagged later. Nothing goes to waste.





A lump formed in my throat when I noticed the woman scavenging for bits of grain in the field. In the past I've been moved by the painting "The Gleaners" (Millet, 1857) and its portrayal of women searching for the smallest bits to feed their families. Here was testament to the poverty of my neighbours.

Against the Grain

A hoopoe cooed incessantly at the bedroom window at 3:30pm. I figured that this "messenger from God" was telling me it was time to get up. A headache and a queasy tummy had me in bed all day. I can only think that the gin served at the hotel last night was the local brand: "Gordoon's Gin" - and of questionable purity.


Wanting some fresh air, we walked a little in the fields surrounding our flat. The wheat is being harvested. Sheaves are tied up in neat little bundles on a scale far smaller than the Canadian Prairies; so small that I can't believe that these fields are for anything other than family consumption. I have seen small mills in the villages where it appeared that families could turn their grain into flour for those shamsi bread loaves they bake. A few years ago I worked with a friend on a report examining wheat imports and was surprised to learn that a great deal of Egypt's wheat comes from India and Pakistan, in addition to Russia and USA.