W'ere Not In Kansas Anymore

Over my many weeks on the road I will, from time to time, try to explain various classic movie lines, that for generations of film watchers, sums up in a nut shell, what is going on. For westerners, and this I mean native English speakers, watching the movie, "The Wizard of Oz," is almost a given. The thing is, that in Tunisia, of the 7 person World Harmony Run team, I am the only, first language, English speaker. I am dumbfounded to learn, that none has even heard of the film I am quoting from.
I am of course, trying to explain to my teammates how different Tunisia is, from Egypt, the country I left from, just the night before. I attempt to set up the scene, the little girl named Dorthy, a small dog named Toto, and then a fierce storm that blows her into a very different world.
Tunisia, much to my surprise would be worlds apart from Egypt, for many reasons. Now there was a real team, with many miles to cover, and a very strict schedule to follow.

We would defy physics and common sense and travel for 6 days all across the country in this very little van with its fluttering Tunisian flag. Our 7 person team would come from 6 countries and in addition we have with us 2 Tunisians. We would have a driver named Achraf, and this indispensable man on the left, Moez. He would translate for us into French or Arabic or vice versa. In addition, he would know every sport figure or sport official in the country. And if he did not know everybody before we started he was well acquainted with them when we swung back into Tunis.
Our first day would start with delays, false starts, and generally spinning of wheels. We were supposed to drive to Gabes, and reach there before night fall. Eventually we figured out how to pack all the stuff on the roof. We put on a tarp, which was lucky, for a gentle shower splashed over the van as we headed out, very very late out onto the highway.
It was a real change for me to see clouds, little alone rain. In Egypt there was always clear dry skies. It was a change to see fields of flowers, great acres of olive groves, and when the air cleared a little, and the sun found a whole punched through the clouds, the warn evening light, filled up the entire landscape, like a dream.



Night would come, and the damp evening air felt so, so much colder than a gentle Egyptian night. You had to pull on extra layers, and I felt a longing for the dry warmth of yesterday.







Computer keyboards flicked to life in the darkness of the van. There were tasks to be taken care of no matter that we were rolling through a damp cool Tunisian night.
There were many differences from Egypt besides a bigger team and brisk schedules. The predominant language spoken now was French and Arabic.




But here in Tunisia we would meet so many more people. See a very diverse landscape that shifted from a damp and fertile hilly coastline to the great arid expanse which is called the Sahara.
The torch here would find a new strength and purpose. The adventure here would continue on a much different path. What took place in Tunisia, over 8 days. could never be summed up, with even the best movie line.

Not Long Enough

It seemed longer and easier, when I looked at the 5 large days on the calender. The dates spread out comfortably across the top of the March page, taking up almost the length of a full week. I would get to Cairo on the afternoon of the 2nd, accomplish everything in the allotted time, and be ready to go on to Tunis on the evening of the 7th. More than enough time to have ceremonies, travel, have adventures and make friends with lots of new people.

The truth is that nothing would have happened at all if I had not met with Hussein Fahmy of the Egyptian Athletic Federation. We met him one afternoon almost by chance, and he made some phone calls and bing, everything worked out. But something else happened, I think we saw in each other something unique. Our backgrounds could not have been more different. While I was a peacenik he moved up in the Egyptian military, eventually becoming a 2 star general.
At a heart level though, we just seemed to click, and be in agreement about everything. Particularly, on what we would like to see happen in this world of ours. Simply put, that we all live in peace and harmony. Which is why I think, he embraced what we were doing so readily. Here I am interviewing him for a movie about the World Harmony Run. Later he and his friend from the federation would leave us for a short while to pray. It was during this time, that we just wandered around the pyramids at Ghiza with our torch, and let it be spread. These kids were playing a game when we came by.






These people, well, I cannot remember where they were from, but they sure seemed to enjoy holding the torch. Dozens upon dozens of people participated spontaneously with us at this time. We spread a whole lot of joy to an amazing collection of representatives, from all parts of the world family, that day.







When I was here visiting, 20 years ago I recall having quite a few powerful experiences. This time our guide took us up to the tunnel, leading into the heart of the great pyramid. I realized, as I climbed, up and up in the tight inclined tunnel, that I had not done this before, on my previous visit. I am not sure why, though perhaps back then, it just seemed too claustrophobic to do it. This time though I willingly made my way up to the main chamber, in the heart of the pyramid. I was fortunate, for there was no one else there at the time. Just an abundant sense of peace. It was not a large space but as I quieted my mind, it began to feel as though it was immense, and that I had just walked into a great and vast open temple. When I descended the guide asked me what I felt. I just touched my hand to my heart and smiled.

Here I am just being a silly but very happy idiot.



My friend Hussein Fahmy will eventually spend a full day with us. Picking us up at the train station at 6, taking us to breakfast and then for coffee and then to a wonderful place for lunch, within site of the pyramids. He will wait at the gate of the airport until we are all completely through. I will call him once from Madrid a week later and will realize how much I miss his company. He had told me, during our interview, that he wanted the pyramids to remain untouched for eternity. He also wanted peace to exist and spread, all around and about, our troubled little world. As I look at this picture, after many weeks, I wonder to myself, if you can have harmony, as strong and as quickly as this, between strangers, then why not the whole world.

Night Training

Darkness had fallen gently across Luxor, and we had a night train still to catch. Time was slipping like sand through our fingers and Muhammed was still dragging us here and there. Once more to his house for tea, so he could change clothes for his 'cousin's' wedding taking place, just down the road. A 2 minute visit there and we then 'had to go' for tea at his 'just discovered' cousins cafe on the Nile, where we looked out upon this wonderful scene from the rooftop.

I could see that we were going to be late so prodded and pushed and gulped tea and got us to the ferry landing. The boat of course was on the other side so we had to pay a private boatman to get us across to Luxor. By this time there was only time to dash across the grounds of the Luxor temple. I stopped only long enough to take this one picture, and then we ran for our lives to collect our bags at the hotel.

Muhammed faithfully stayed with us until the train came up to the platform. He said, that even at that late hour he was going off to give English lessons, and not go to his cousin's wedding. I asked him to demonstrate how he taught. He could not get enthusiastic about this. He was more interested in talking, once again, about getting married. I hope it happens, soon.

The sleeper train to Cairo is another world altogether from the so called 'first class cars.' There are something like real beds and they serve a meal of sorts at night and breakfast in the morning. There are real doors to the room, and clean sheets on the bunk beds which are pulled out by the porter.





When you are locked into a rolling train slowly rocking back and forth as it pushes steadily along through the night. You have lots of time for gentle contemplation. I recalled experiences that had taken place 20 years ago in my previous visit to Luxor. There had been one memorable event then, that I hoped to recreate. Climbing over the mountains to visit the Valley of Kings by hiking there, instead of driving. There is a view of the Nile, from far above, that is breath taking. You are high enough up, that as you gaze down, the river looks like a slender green fertile thread, stretching from one horizon to the other. Around it spreads the infinite expanse of the light brown desert.




Somehow we ran out of time to do it. But late at night as I fought for sleep it seemed okay. I slowly accepted the reality that reenacting old experiences is completely unnecessary when instead you have the opportunity for significant and powerful new ones. I think though that I wanted the boys to have a chance for that same unique opportunity that I once had, and well cups of tea, and playful kids just took more precedence.

Our porter was just the perfect guy for the job. He never skulked around looking for a handout. He did his job well and smiled sincerely. I gave him a nice tip.









This is how Mario and Rastia, my two young Slovak traveling companions looked, after spilling out of the train, early the next day in Cairo. I am not sure how I looked, but it certainly wasn't that good.
I had been emailing them before our trip, suggesting that when I finally met up with them in Egypt, we should just get out of Cairo, and see a different side of the country. I suggested to them, that we go to visit Luxor. I am so glad we did. It was for me, the best part of the whole month long journey. I am not certain, what this picture reveals. My guess, is that this picture says, that they too will have strong sweet memories of Egypt. Ones that will also last 20 years, and maybe even a little longer.

The Appeal of Banana Island

Muhammad, our guide, had been talking about the importance of visiting Banana Island almost from the moment we had stumbled off the night train from Cairo. I had given so little thought to the idea of going there, because there were so many wonderful ancient sites to take in while staying in Luxor. Well sure enough it was our last afternoon and he said to us, that we had to go, and furthermore, that it was arranged that we would sail there on his cousin's boat, and yes we would not believe how wonderful it would be, and how many bananas we would receive. A boat trip on the Nile sounded like a great idea and though none of us, was much interested in eating bananas, we reluctantly gave in. Some suspicions crept into my mind when we got to the boat and saw the two young surly men who operated it. If either one of them was Muhammad's cousin I would have been surprised. Still, soon we were swiftly moving along in the wonderful and warm afternoon light. The ride was short though, for our liking, too short. We pulled into a dirt bank and with a few steps found ourselves in some kind of picnic area with a bunch of tourists and tables. True enough piles of bananas were being carried gleefully out and placed in front of people. Some looked interested or hungry, I am not sure. I for one was livid. My ripoff meter had been warning me for some time and now it was glaringly obvious that we were now
captured in a tourist trap on our last afternoon in Luxor. We had yet to even visit the temple of Luxor which was just across the street from our hotel. I stood up and said, "No way, am I going to sit here looking at bananas." We asked to be taken back to the boat and just to go for a ride. It was not possible he said. The best we could do was to go for a walk down a little country road. From the first step it became one of those magical journeys. My disappointment just evaporated after taking barely even one step. It became instead, one of the best experience of my stay in Egypt. We met dozens of warm and interesting people just going about their lives, and who were willing and happy to have their pictures taken. It was a chance to see rural Egypt in a way that was natural and not forced.

We walked by small homes and were allowed inside. There were no cars or motorbikes, just donkeys and small wagons. This young boy was so delighted that we had come along, and he felt so satisfied with himself, that he was old enough to be sitting on his family's donkey.










This elderly lady is with her grand daughter in a small building which is just used for baking. The bread is thin and crisp and you have to be quick and alert to bake it just right. She was happy to show us how it was done. I bought a big bunch of it.











Then I walked across the street and gave it to these kids. I don't know if they were hungry. I don't know if they are even poor by the standards of the little village, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
They ate it all.






These kids were playing behind a low stone wall. Their mother was hanging up laundry as I passed. They were so small I asked their mother if I could take their picture. She smiled and nodded yes. They just smiled as if there was no tomorrow.






It somehow had become a perfect afternoon. Everything I had wanted for, to meet local people in a relaxed way, to take some interesting pictures of local people, and have some stories to tell, had taken place in a flash. It was though a genie had come out of a bottle and fulfilled all my wishes. It was perfect.


On the sail back to town I had one last dream fulfilled. I have an old picture taken 20 years ago while sailing on the Nile near Cairo. It was in 1988. I didn't quite remember how it was posed but asked one of the boys
just to take my camera and take a shot. As I stood up on the bow, I didn't feel like I was posing really. I was thinking, what a great afternoon. I was just so grateful to have had it, and been able to share it.

No Goodbyes Without Hellos

These are some of the kids from the Barat Youth center. They are boarding buses to go Aswan for a track meet. They were excited about competing. I am sorry I don't have more pictures of the kids, for they are the story of Luxor for me. They were the first group that I would meet over the month and also ones in which I had a chance to spend some real time.
Goodbyes are always a little sad, but how much poorer would we be without having had these experiences. And of course if you never say Hello, how will you ever get to say Goodbye.
We are saying thank-you to our guide here. It is a photo album and has a very special and useful addition to the last page.
Mohammed told us a lot about his life and struggles. We were at his house no less than 2 times for tea and met various members of his family. On our last night he will take us down the street to visit the wedding of his cousin. He is it seems preoccupied by weddings, particularly the wish to have one himself. We may have helped this a little.

Coach Abdul Rheem was an almost silent but very strong friend and supporter. He was a real coach and took it personally the achievements of his kids. We are giving him just a photo album of all the shots we took of him and his kids over the past few days. He refused any contribution to his club but willingly accepted a small stop watch that we were somehow able to find in Luxor.



Ahmed Hanza is an important man in the Luxor region. With but a call from his friend General Fahmy in Cairo he dropped everything to help us and escorted us to all our events. Here he has to leave with the track team, but you could see he would love to stay with us until we board our train. We struggled to find a gift to give him in addition to photos. Luxor is not like shopping at your suburban mall. We did find for him a nice leather case to carry some of the papers that he clutched and went through all day long.
This is our driver. One afternoon he had me write down his name and telephone number on a bit of paper. Sadly it has been lost, somewhere in my journey across Africa. What is not lost is his affection. We spent the better part of two days, having him drive us here and there. He spoke no English but a few words. I remember his deep smoky voice and I remember his smile. One afternoon we were driving across the Nile and he simply stopped the car. He turned around and asked that I take his picture. And so I did.



This is deceptive. This photo was taken at Ahmed Hanza's house the night before we left. He had invited us for tea at his simple home and was so happy to show us photos and give us these medals. So much took place over my month in Africa that it sometimes blends together into an undecipherable mess. But when I look back at the pictures; the stories, and memories, and the love for them returns. We have said Goodbye perhaps forever. But I like to remember the wonder of saying Hello.

Holding Up the Sky

A visit to the temple of Karnak, is to boldly step back into the dream which was yesterday. A vision of such magnitude and majesty that we cannot possibly comprehend the scope and scale of its vision.
The history books tell us that it is more than 3500 years old. 30 Pharaohs built one upon the others achievements, over 1500years. They say it is the largest temple complex in the world. As you wander through the restored area there is stil much much more that is unexplored, which lies in jig saw piles, strewn across grassy fields.





On my first visit here 20 years ago, I had gotten up early in the small town of Luxor, which is a few miles off and ran alone here early in the morning. The complex was locked and so ran in a lazy loop across the desert around to the back of the place. Dogs barked, and the air was cool enough to see your breath, but there was no locked gate there and I simply walked in. I came here to the Hypostyle Hall with its 134 columns and had the place to myself. Just birdsong filled the air and the dawn light was sharp and bright. I found myself sitting, with my back against one of these columns and fell into a deep sweet dream, of the glory that must have been. I felt the past softly approach and embrace my silent mind, whisper, "this is what man can do." My heart then asked, "What can man be?" The past just smiled at me and said, "you must find the eternal temple inside your heart, you must find and dwell in your own soul."

This is our very dear friend Ahmed Hanz Kalifa. He is with the Egyptian Athletic federation here in Luxor and he was able to take us everywhere and everywhere we went he knew everyone there, and with everyone, he had a cheery embrace. From the valley of the Kings to Karnak, to a small stony field where kids ran barefoot. He spent the better part of 2 days with us and somehow managed to keep busy with his many other responsibilities.







No matter where you look there is just so much to see, and if each time you ask, what it is, you just keep adding to the endless questions.













There are just so many stories writ and carved and painted and placed with such loving care upon the stones.


You cannot help but feel so small when art and history have come together in such a powerful way.









The scale is so grand and our grasp is so small when we attempt to see it all. Whether you stand far away or poke in as close as close can be.













Our guide has been trained to tell the tales. Not to decipher, not to decode, not to keep track of it all. Just to tell you enough that your mind cries no more and wants to fly away. The thing is, the heart wants to stay, to rest, to feel the past with its haunting song that tells us that the spirit within us is stronger, than all the walls and spires combined.









The Pharaohs had so many stories to tell about their lives. The spirit has just one.










We can lift a stone towards the skies, but is it not better to lift a lighter weight, that takes no hands, no force to move. To simply lift up our own hearts and to help lift up the hearts of others.

You Cannot Take Pictures Here

I have been surprised at how most Egyptians I have met, seem so willing to have their pictures taken. I on the other hand, despite much argument to the contrary, do not much like posing. Here in the valley of the Kings sits a man who spends his day watching over tourists who line up, in endless long queues. He has probably had his picture taken countless times by frustrated tourists who are not allowed to take photos inside.

I on the other hand am compelled by some strong journalistic urge to rebel against such signs of authority when there seems no clear reason not to do so. Of course there have been some obvious repercussions for this kind of laissez fair attitude. To my memory I have been arrested at least twice. I have never lost film in the ensuing incident.




The walk down into the tombs is a preparation for the visitor. The life and deeds of the Pharaoh are inscribed in minute detail on the walls as you descend. If you have a guide they will point out this deed this bit of trivia, but after awhile it all begins to sound like noise.





There may be crowds oohing and aahing around you but if you listen you can hear the silence here. Close your eyes for but a moment and the spiritual dimension of this enclosed cavern can open up for you. You can feel that you are in this most auspicious temple that opens to the heavens and not deep within the earth. I feel most people must feel this on some subtle inner level. They come by the millions to point and nod but their hearts are feeling something quite profound and silent.
Of course they come for Tut. People have visions of Howard Carter laboring in the valley of the Kings and at last coming upon the golden treasure of the Boy King. Hints of that are here of course. But the golden masks are not.






The boy King's body is still here, but does he rest. Is his peace intruded upon by those with hidden cameras. Who flaunt the rules and the signs saying not to steal his image.








Our World Harmony run team had a more important mission today besides visiting the land of the dead. We met with some members of the young track team we had met with the day before. Here they run with the torch on the other side of the mountains from the Valley of the Kings. This is in front of the temple of Hatchepsout. The building is 3500 years ago the kids are very much current. Today we got a chance to spend time together and know each other better.

We spend a better part of the day with the Kids. We tour some other sites and then all go off to lunch together in a little cafe by the Nile. This young guy is one of the owner's sons who was 8 going on 18. He like lots of kids that day just seemed to merge and become one with our little entourage. The World Harmony run is about finding an expanding community that is interested and cares about one another. Sometimes you have just a chance to pass the torch briefly. On this occasion we had nearly a day to spend with kids who's trajectory of their lives is much different than the kids who inhabit our worlds. Yet all hearts can meet and become one, despite the different worlds we inhabit, and the different languages we speak.



After a day, the kids no longer look like the somber runners we had met with the evening before. They are singing for us their team song. Tomorrow they will be competing against other teams from the region. Who knows what they received from our brief visit. We three at least got to share a day with young hearts, and see vibrant youthful dreams. In this is, it becomes easier to see brighter futures for them, and, for us all.