Memories Are Forever | الذكريات لا تُنسى
By Lina Elmansy, SY’19
ORIGINAL
TRANSLATION
When I first land in Cairo International Airport at the beginning of every summer, I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people and the boisterous atmosphere. For the first time in nine months, I hear Arabic everywhere instead of the English that I have gotten so accustomed to. I need to adjust to the sudden change, but thankfully it doesn’t take much time. That first wave of Arabic is all it takes for all my memories to come flooding back. I spent most of my childhood in Egypt, with Arabic as my first language. My first few days in Egypt every summer always remind me of the beginning as I rewire my Americanized brain to adapt to the Egyptian way of life.
The first family gathering is always a momentous event filled with loving, but suffocating hugs and genuine excitement. Seeing everyone again after such a long time is one of the things I look forward to the most. “I missed you so much,” I repeat with every hello. “You got so tall,” is the comment I get the most, even though half the time it’s not true. The bright smiles, the warm hugs, and the loving atmosphere make my heart burst with joy. I feel at home.
We always have family dinner in the backyard of my uncle’s summer house. We set up a huge white table with countless chairs on both sides. The scene always reminds me of the Harry Potter dinner arrangement at Hogwarts. “Come on, sit down before the food gets cold,” I hear someone yell. I don’t need to be told twice. As we take our seats, I notice that everyone is here today. Aunts, uncles, cousins, children of cousins — everyone. Our summerhouse is alive with the sounds of fussy babies, whiny children, loud teenagers, and chatty adults. I feel extremely joyful, taking everything in. The misty, humid night atmosphere feels nice in comparison to the scorching sun during the day. This is what I look forward to all year and what I miss most of all. This is family and I fit right in among the people that mean the most…
Even when I leave Egypt at the end of every summer, I feel like my connection to this place remains. Memories I formed as a child, as well as new ones I collect every year, accompany me wherever I go. These are the ghosts that stay with me, making me who I am. However, they’re ghosts that I welcome and appreciate. As an American living in the United States, I still take pride in my Arabic culture and love having a real connection to my homeland. The presence of these “ghosts” are felt every time I pick up the phone to call my cousins, listen to Arabic music, or randomly decide to watch an Egyptian comedy. They’re also present in the form of my fondest family memories. Although I don’t live in Egypt and I don’t always speak Arabic, I’m still attached to the country and its people by an invisible thread that only I can feel.
