Day 50: I Miss the Silence
Day 50: May 15, 2020
Global cases: 4,621,414; Deaths: 308,154
Egypt cases: 11,228; Deaths: 592
Mariam Zakzouk
Multimedia Journalism senior
“MAMMMIII, ATOOOOO”
I wake up to the sound of a screaming two-year-old on the second floor of our family house. Like every day, my cousin Yehia has taken to the balcony to announce his awakening. A few months ago, that would’ve been adorable but now, it’s like a tiny very high-pitched alarm clock that will not stop until you throw it across the room. How one tiny human being can cause this much ruckus, is beyond my comprehension.
I pick up my phone from my nightstand, it’s 8:30am. There is no way in fresh hell I am waking up now, I barely got two hours of sleep and no one wants to see the house go down in flames. Even if it sounds brilliant to me. I turn over on the now, colder side of the bed, since my darling sister seems to have closed the room window … again.
I keep tossing and turning for maybe an hour and my eyes start to slowly close again when I hear what could be possibly compared as a heard of buffaloes running across a path, like the scene in the Lion King, where Mufasa falls down and gets trampled over – were they buffaloes? I think I got the wrong animal but that’s beyond the point.
The children are awake, how lovely it is to wake up to five children running across the apartment above mine, more specifically in the room above mine, which is my uncle’s living room. I call my uncle, who I wake up and tell to keep his kids quiet, and that I have a class with a quiz in a couple of hours. I soon enough hear the complaints of my annoyed cousins and my uncle yelling back, then silence. Oh, thank God, I lay back down and close my eyes.
“RIIIINNNNNGGGGGGGG.”
I sit up and my heart beats out my chest, look at my phone to stop the alarm, only to see a blank screen at the digits 9:30am staring right back at me. Oh, you have got to be kidding me! I turn my head with what can only be described as a psychotic murderous look across the room, to see my sister very casually staring at her alarm clock ringing across from her.
For The Caravan‘s previous diary entries in Arabic and English go to our COVID-19 Special Coverage page.
“Mom said it’s time to wake up,” she said, teenage mean-girl like
She sees the look I’m giving her, and like a person faced with a lion in attack position, she slowly moves in controlled steps out of the room. I get up, take her alarm clock and very calmly throw it out of my window and go back to bed.
Message sent.
4:00pm, I wake up to the sound of my dad mid-business call. Like any very Egyptian family, we are blessed with incredibly loud voices. My dad’s voice amplifies when he’s in a phone call, I’m pretty sure he can lecture the Bassily Auditorium, mic-less. Closing the door is pointless, I am still going to hear him.
Outside are around 10 small children, the eldest is my sister at 14, all playing music in the garden. Their parents are chatting in their balconies. My mom and grandma are gossiping about God knows what and talking about my possible list of suitors in the room next to mine, I don’t think they understand how thin the walls are.
In the kitchen, a blender is on and the lady that cooks for us once a week is clattering pots and pans. On the bed next to mine, is my sister giggling over the phone with a guy we’re all pretending isn’t her boyfriend, and making TikTok videos.
“ALLAHU AKBAR, ALLAHU AKBAR.” It’s Thursday, we all eat together on Thursdays. This Thursday, they’re all in my house, all 20 family members. My poor cat is absolutely terrified at the amount of people in my house right now. People are chattering, talking over each other, Teta’s yelling at someone’s kid for spilling something, the mother of that kid is sitting exhausted on a chair somewhere (best form of birth control anyone can find). Scraping on plates, silver wear clanging, what lovely music.
8pm, everyone is in the garden praying tarawih and I finally get time to myself. I hear the voice of the Imama outside as I press the button of my coffee machine coaxing it into a buzzing noise, and I hear the Nespresso capsule break and the coffee release into my mug.
I take my intoxicating smelling coffee and get a piece of boogie dark chocolate that I have in my room and sit in my dad’s lazy boy and enjoy the deafening silence in my house for about an hour, until chaos unfurls once again.
