As I celebrated my birthday, I thought about the past and traveled through time and space from Los Angeles to Assiut. The older people used to tell the children stories about their great old times where life was so cheap.
Our dreams were very simple as computer cell phones and television were not invented yet. Only the rich people had radio at their house. They listened to plays and football matches and the audience shouted with joy or sorrow according to their football affiliation.
As children, we were dealing with a currency that does not exist nowadays, but we saved out of it to rent bicycles once a week. We had very simple toys and games for boys and others for girls.
Our neighborhood was a narrow road and the houses on both sides consisted often of two floors, and all the families in the street were Christians.
I still remember the Muslim family that came to our neighborhood one day. The wife was calle Rabea and the husband was called Abdul Hafiz. They were good people and caused no troubles. My family moved later to New Assiut, but I always returned to my place where I grew up even when I immigrated to America.
At the school, I had a wonderful teacher who taught me how to read at early age and taught me to love Arabic. Then I met with Mr. Awad who was a decent religious man who was far from extremism. I remember he gave rewards for Muslims who attended prayers in the mosque as well as the Christians who attended the church every week.
One of my memorable memories as one Muslim student cursed my religion and I complained to the teacher. He investigated the matter and gave him strong punishment that I asked him to forgive the student. He told me that the community has right that should be taken even if I forgive him.
These are few of my memories when the money was few but there was a lot of satisfaction. There was few food, but this few had great taste. Children had nothing, but love and compassion. It is strange that I still miss Assiut after spending 50 years in Los Angeles.
