Things will never be the same

Eid for a lot of people in Egypt is a family-oriented, habit ridden event; Sometimes that which is uncomfortable or inconvenient. Always slightly uncomfortable but never completely inconvenient, I actually do enjoy Eid. It's a time where travelling is a major break in the routine, staying in Cairo is an excellent driving experience, and national television becomes a folkloric and traditional extravaganza that is worth anthropological attention. A particular song that is incessantly played over and over on TV is Safa Abou El Souood's little shindig "El Eid Far-ha". An overly excited Abou El Souood belts out, accompanied by disturbingly happy children, how Eid is in fact a far-ha (happiness). A specific verse in the song where she sings "El Eid Far-ha we agmal far-ha...saa'dina biha, biykhalina, nor2os we nifrah a7la far-ha", or something to that respect, is special (This post falls flat for anyone who is unable to speak or transliterate in Arabic).
Why is it special? For me, the verse mentions the Bonnie and Clyde of festivities, the Tom & Katie of celebratory joy, the BrAngelina of Eid: the quintessential Egyptian couple, Sa3d & Nabiha. Little did I know that they in fact did not exist. I can't express how this broke my heart (more so than the theft of "Fox": See last post). The realization that they existed only in my mind was as devastating as when some schmuck told me that the moon does not in fact become a crescent, explaining it as a ball the has light shown on it at different angles, thereby ridding me from seeing the moon as an honest crescent, ever again.
The names Sa3d & Nabiha are actually saa'dina biha, a verb rather than a noun. Poof went the image of my prefect Egyptian couple, and along with it a myriad of memories and hopes. Ever since- and I've discovered this ground-breaking piece of information last year- Eid has been bitter sweet.
Kol Sana wento Tayibeen.


Photograph courtesy of Fotografia Reflex.