This morning Wanda and I went with my parents to the St. Jacobs Farmer’s Market. It was a most beautiful summer day. The air was fresh and the temperature was perfect. We moved about the crowded rows of fruit and vegetables, inhaling the many fresh aromas and bouquets. Picking up apple fritters, cheese curds and thick-cut bacon, I reveled in the feeling of home.
After a bit we arrived at a food stall run by an Egyptian family. “As-salam Alaykum!” we smiled, quickly diving into Arabic conversation with the Egyptian manager, who was originally from Cairo. Our happy exchange quickly turned sour, however, as she informed us of the violence that had occurred overnight in Egypt. Having not checked the news, I suddenly yearned to hurry home and see the reports for myself.
Now I sit here with so much to say and yet not much to say at all. On one hand I am speechless. I am a helpless observer with nothing to do but follow along with other spectators. My heart is heavy for those who died. And it becomes even weightier when I think that some might try to justify what happened in Cairo.
I do not wish to comment on what I have read in regards to last night’s developments. But I will say this; things are not always as they seem. The situation is incredibly complicated. And regardless of political bent or interest; the deaths in Egypt are very sad.
