Zowek

Sohag is a city little-traveled by tourists, and for good reason. There are no culturally or historically sites nearby and the city is busy, noisy, ugly, and crowded. So why, you ask, were Eric, Kevin and I coming to this seeming vacuum of fun? Well, if you’ll just stop interrupting me for a couple seconds I’ll tell you everything.

Upon our arrival at the train station we were greeted by Magdy Dief, a junior whom we had been invited to stay with in the nearby village of Zowek. He escorted us out of the station and into the street, where two police officers brandishing AK-47s were waiting. After brief introductions with the men, we were informed that they would be our escorts for the remainder of our stay in Sohag. Furthermore, before we could go anywhere they had to be informed, or else Magdy and his family were liable to be punished.

So why all the security? It turns out that a number of Islamic extremists have hailed from the area, and the concern was that word might get out of foreigners visiting, and Americans at that. This could prove to be a very tempting target for kidnapping, indeed. Alas, the armed escort was meant as a deterrent, and that was that. It became clear to us that the police were taking no chances. We joined Magdy in his cousin’s taxi and in short order we were careening out of the city and into the night. The police car cleared a path using its lights and siren and we followed it through the gap. At a checkpoint several kilometers outside the city, the police cruiser was exchanged for an army truck full of soldiers, and we continued on. Our journey finally ended when we rolled into the confines of Zowek. After receiving final instructions from the officers, we climbed the concrete stairs to Magdy’s apartment and crashed for the night.

Sunlight greeted us as we awoke the next day. As we opened the shutters and looked out, Zowek revealed itself in all its… glory. According to Magdy, about 7,000 people call it home. Keeping with the Egyptian tradition, the houses are all made of brick and concrete, several stories tall, with narrow dirt alleys winding between them. From our third floor vantage point, the streets looked like a giant maze, replete with dead-ends and confusion.

Magdy disappeared, and presently returned with a platter full of breakfast items (i.e. bread, cheese, taimaya, fuul beans, and tea). Being chronically famished, we devoured the contents of the platter, and were just settling into a comfortable period of reading when Magdy notified us that we were expected at another student’s house for lunch in a mere one hour. Now I should not something here: A large contingency of NUA students hail from Zowek; about 40 in all. They each knew that we were in their village, and each of them was determined that we should visit their home and eat their food. The first on this list was Benjamin Zachariah.

And so began a harrowing two three days. Visiting locals is an experience that I will not forget. The hospitality of the families is legendary. The women of the house work all day, preparing a veritable feast for their guests. A typical meal consisted of rice, salad (chopped cucumber and tomato), bread, some form of potatoes, chicken or duck, and Coca Cola to drink. These were presented to us in copious quantities at every house we visited. We ate between 4 and six complete meals during our stay in Zowek, and I can safely tell you, that eating gets old after not too long.

I realize that it may seem that I am skipping some important details, but I can assure you that the only things we did during our stay was eating and sleep. That’s it. I have never been so uncomfortably full in my life, as I was in Zowek. Fortunately, we planned our escape and after 3 days we were once again at the train station, this time with Daniel accompanying us. As we waddled onto the platform we waved goodbye to Magdy and breathed a sigh of relief. Although the people were hospitable enough, we needed a break from the good manners and F-O-O-D. And so ends another chapter of our story.