In the weeks since, I’ve been kept too busy to dwell on what will happen when the students arrive. Even though I have a regular team I work with year on year, there’s still lots to organise.
I spent most of the first week tied up with red tape at the Department of Antiquities, negotiating protocols and processes. Followed by a week full of a favourite Egyptian pastime: haggling over all the equipment and supplies we’ll need.
Today, Ashraf and I are meeting with the captain of the boat I’ve used for the past two years as both transport and accommodation. Staying on a boat allows us to save time on daily transport by being near the dig site, not to mention the added benefit that there are none of the distractions staying in town can offer students. Of course, this year, a distraction for me might be a good thing.
“Ethan!” Khaled, the boat owner and captain, calls from the deck as Ashraf and I stride down the little jetty where he’s moored. His pride and joy has had a coat of paint since my last dig.
Although Khaled and his son Sayed also rent the boat out to small tour groups who want to travel up and down the Nile, I’m well aware my taking it for six weeks every year is their most lucrative contract.
“How’s business, Khaled?” I ask, leaping up the gangplank.
“Better now my favourite customer is here,” he says with a laugh, proudly indicating where someone has freshly hand-painted the name of the boat. “As you can see. We are all ready for you,Basha.”
We sit on the deck and discuss staffing and catering while drinking the strong, sweet tea Egyptians favour, all to the background noise of the busy waterfront. Despite the looming arrival of the students—and most particularly Sadie—the sights and the smells of the river work their usual magic, and my body relaxes as the tensions of the past six months drain out of me. The contentment I usually feel as soon as I arrive in Egypt is finally settling into my bones.
Ashraf would sayma’atis being restored. Order from chaos.
Before Jess died, I had thought I was in control of my life. The universe proved me wrong by taking her the way it did. Sudden. Unexpected. Perhaps there’s a lesson here. That I need to let go. Let the universe do its thing. Let ma’at take over and lead me to where I need to be.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sadie
I’m in Egypt.
Gathering my eReader and headphones and stuffing my phone in the pocket of my daypack, I prepare to get off this interminable flight. Interminable not just because flying from Sydney to Cairo is a long way, especially when you add a five-hour stopover in Abu Dhabi. But because I was sandwiched between Riley and Garret. One of whom was excitedly plotting and planning the whole way to get Ethan alone once we’re at the dig site, while the other alternated between excitement and terror at the possibility of being caught in an unexpected uprising. Or bitten by a scorpion.
Cairo International Airport hits you like a brick to the face. The noise, the smell, the heat, the crowds. It’s everything I ever imagined, and I’m in love from the minute I step off the jetway.
“How much longer do you think this will take?” Riley whines when we’ve been in the immigration control queue for all of ten minutes.
“Do you think they ever use those?” Garret whispers, throwing anxious looks over his shoulder at the Tourist Police lining the room, automatic rifles at the ready. To be fair, guns are not something you see a lot of in Australia.
“I don’t know, and I don’t know.” I have no patience left after the past twenty-four hours with them. “I also don’t know why you both seem to have decided I’m in charge here.”
“Because you seem to be, I don’t know, more prepared?” Garret offers.
“I went to the same briefings you did,” I answer. Briefings that included instructions not to be surprised at how long passport control would take, not to freak out at the sight of the guns and not to argue. With anyone. Just ask for the Tourist Police or the Australian Embassy.
“I just wasn’t expecting it to be so …” Riley trails off.
“Different? Extra? Wonderful?”
“The first two, maybe,” she mutters.
By the time we’ve collected our bags and exited customs, I’ve managed to completely tune out the whining and fretting and am soaking up as much of the atmosphere as I can.
“That was quick,” says Ethan, checking his chunky watch. I don’t know how he found us in the heaving arrivals hall, but I’m grateful he did. Because I can officially hand over responsibility for Riley and Garret. He’s looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him in a lightweight linen shirt, cotton trousers and his regular battered work boots. His face and hands are already tanned, and aviator sunglasses sit atop his head, nestled in his newly sun-streaked hair.
Ethan flew in before Christmas to get all the admin stuff sorted out. And, if I had to guess, avoid his family for Christmas. I don’t ask. We don’t have those sorts of conversations anymore.
We’ll be spending a few days sightseeing in Cairo, then heading down the Nile—although technically I guess it's up the Nile—to the site of the dig at Amarna.
Despite my nervousness at being in such close proximity to Ethan for over six weeks, my body is vibrating with excitement. Finally, I’ll get to see the Pyramids of Giza. And Saqqara. And to sail down the Nile. Dream come true.
“This is Ashraf.” Ethan indicates a tall, elegant man who bows politely. His lined skin is the colour of my grandmother’s walnut dining table, and he’s wearing a pristine white jalabiya and turban. “He’s our transport and logistics supervisor. If you have any problems with your rooms, or transport, or food, anything at all, in fact, he’s your man.”
It’s clear to everyone that Riley won’t be able to manage the two massive suitcases she’s brought with her in this scrum, so Ethan throws the smaller one onto his shoulder and grabs the handle of the other. Riley shoots me a triumphant grin. I’m guessing she didn’t notice the look of exasperation between Ethan and Ashraf.
