Even the Unnoticed are Desired

As I am sitting on the top floor of the library, I glance into a barren area enclosed by a worn, tattered wall. There are a few metal and stone shacks in this area which obviously house very poor families. This little plot of land seems to stand out so significantly when looking down from the skyline. I would almost equate it with a mini dump amongst the giants. Even a few of the adjacent buildings reflect the degeneration of the plot to an equal degree: the upper walls are crumbling, there are holes in the outer shell of the building, a missing window would not be regarded as out of the ordinary. I see a boy kicking a box. He is dressed plainly in dirty clothes. The natural course of thoughts goes through my head asking if he is educated, what his parents do, how he is being raised, how many siblings he has, what kind of future is available for him. As I watch him I realize that even he has the innate desire to interact with his environment, to produce some kind of result. Would the result of his action be positive or negative for his surrounding society? This boy has the capability to effectively influence society, but only if he is provided the appropriate means, encouragement, and direction. Will he get that? Will he find his place?

Every actor is necessary for the proper functioning and betterment of the society be it the street sweepers who so boldly pull their trash bins with their wicker brooms along the precarious streets, the women who wash the cars and leave the wipers protracted, the humanitarian workers who laboriously give aid to those in need, the homeless and helpless who provide the recipient for that need, and the dignitaries who pave the way for the freedoms and restrictions that navigate the society. It is so easy to heedlessly continue on in one's day and not look down from the rooftop to see those below who are supporting those who are above. In Egypt, I can see these people as plain as day. I cannot go anywhere without noticing them and feeling a wave of gratitude for their work, curiosity into their lifestyles', sometimes sorrow for their unceasing redundancy of production.

I have noticed some particular means of acquiring income which add a unique touch to Egyptian culture. The aforementioned street sweepers with their brooms and industrial trash bins clad in orange jumpsuits faithfully and for very little pay clear the curbs, sidewalks and streets of the remnants of peoples’ lunches. The women who wake at early hours every day to wash the cars along the streets lined like cattle tightly fit into stalls display content in their simple yet greatly appreciated occupation (greatly appreciated in a country where dust and dirt is as much a part of the atmosphere as is oxygen). The trash collectors come around with carts, some the size of a wagon being pulled on foot and some as large as trucks being pulled by donkeys, and gather the trash to be transported to who knows where. The potato salesmen stand on the corner in the afternoons calling people who are going home for the day to partake of his goods which have been baking on his cart. The fishermen, who often times call on the assistance of their wives and children, spend long days traversing the Nile in simple wooden boats with oars so narrow that one wonders how they catch water. Are there actually fish for them to catch?

All of these actors are necessary for the society to function. Even though their occupations may not be desirable, they are desired in a culture that would lack if they were not present. That boy down there kicking the box is desired and needed. Even if he is not able to function, in my eyes he is desired and needed. He is just as human as I and a precious being. Will he find a place? Do the people passing by outside those dilapidated walls even know that he is there?