Christmas on a camel

So Christmas in Egypt was a pretty strange experience.

The hotel was absolutely dripping in neon lights; it looked like we’d accidentally ended up in Vegas. Everywhere we turned there were Christmas trees or Santa in his sleigh, and banners wishing us Happy Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong, it was awesome waking up to beautiful sunshine every day and having zero washing up to do. There was even a special gala dinner held in a stunning marquee with enough food to feed an army.

But it still wasn’t Christmas – the 25^th could have been any other day of the year. I really missed going to church with my family, opening presents together, sitting down for a traditional dinner and falling asleep on the couch watching Christmas films.

But despite all this, something really great came out of my time in Egypt – I met a little boy who totally changed my life. I’m ashamed to admit this, but when I first saw the group he was with, I found them loud, brash and objectionable.

From the travelling community, I resented the way the children were left to run wild in dirty clothes while the parents got hammered. I even found myself tutting at the kids for their bad behaviour.

It wasn’t until I actually talked to this young chap that my eyes were opened. This five-year-old became my best friend in just a few days. He followed me everywhere, drew me countless pictures and, according to his mum, talked about me non-stop when I wasn’t there.

He was a clever, generous, curious little boy who simply longed for attention. We played cards, we learnt to count together and we talked for hours. I found myself looking for him wherever we went and I have missed him terribly since I got back.

But what surprised me the most was that this child’s mother turned out to be a born-again Christian. I had simply written off the whole group without noticing how different she was from the others. Rather than getting drunk with the adults, she spent most of her time sitting alone, struggling to keep an eye on her three kids.

And she was the one who brought up faith. She asked me what I was reading and if I had ever read the Bible. She then asked me some pretty challenging questions and asked me to pray with her and my new buddy by the pool.

This was a woman who has suffered years of domestic abuse. She clearly loves her children but just isn’t getting the support she needs. She seemed so grateful to have someone to talk to and to take an interest in her little boy.

She aroused in me a sense of righteous indignation: at the people in her life who were letting her down, and at myself for being such a snob. Most of all though, I felt grateful that, in the heart of a Muslim country, God had reached out to me through this woman and her son; that He had both challenged and blessed me at the same time.

I’m going to stay in touch with these two precious people and I hope that next time I’ll be slower to judge and quicker to show God’s love wherever I go and whoever I meet.

Happy New Year folks!