To understand Egypt, one must understand how poets romance, with both tenderness and teeth. Blackstrap Molasses: the viscous, sweet staple in every Egyptian kitchen reflects the flavor of our homeland’s knotted contradictions — and the stubborn, aching love it inspires even despite.
At the halt of bottleneck traffic, cab drivers wipe the tears spooning on the slope of their eyelids when realizing they are riding a Gazawy (someone from Gaza, Palestine). They ask for absolution they say they don’t deserve. They resist payment, pushing it back with a trembling hand: “God knows, all I ask is your forgiveness.