The Cairo Codex by Linda Lambert Read Free Book Online Page A

scrawny kid, hardly a target for sexual advances, but that was no excuse for forgetting cultural codes. More than anything, she was embarrassed. After all, she was a professional anthropologist now. A Ph.D., for goodness’ sake. She stared out the window for several moments. The Nile was now a sheet of glass, the tan sky tipped with pale blue. “Amir called this morning. To apologize. He was very gracious and offered to take me to see his grandfather this afternoon.”
    Nadia smiled. “I’m pleased to hear he called. Amir is a proud man, so it’s difficult for him to apologize. I hope you found it in your heart to accept his apology.” She signaled to the waiter for tea.
    “Of course I accepted his apology.” Justine paused. “Do you think he’ll tell me about Zachariah?”
    Nadia shook her head. “Probably not. At least not until he gets to know you better. I know Amir fairly well. His mother and I were close friends—we went to school together in Alexandria—so I’ve watched him grow up. Are you going with him this afternoon?”
    “We’ll meet at four and walk to his grandfather’s office. I look forward to reconnecting with his grandfather. Besides, I’m willing to trust that there is more to admire in Amir than I’ve discovered so far.”
    “I appreciate your willingness to keep an open mind.” Nadia smiled. “Amir means a lot to me, and I was afraid that last night would have closed the door for you.” She tilted her head. “Some people would have walked away.”
    “I’ll admit, I sometimes make quick judgments unless there is a good reason to do otherwise. I take pride in reading people and drawing conclusions on little information. It’s one of my talents—and probably one of my weaknesses.”
    Nadia laughed softly. Her mass of thick hair moved like gray Jell-O. “I tend to trust too quickly and am sometimes disappointed.”
    The tea arrived then. Justine added a little honey to hers and stirred it slowly.
    Nadia picked up the hot china cup and blew on the rich brown surface. After a few sips, she shifted the direction of the conversation. “Have you had an opportunity to read the proposal and think it through?” The proposal for the UNESCO Community Schools for Girls project described several rural schools built primarily outside of Cairo. In small villages, there were not enough girls to make up schools with separate grade levels, and parents often forbade their daughters from walking to larger, nearby villages. Attending school with boys was not considered an option in rural areas, but ungraded all-girls schools were proving workable.
    “I’ve read it several times, most recently this morning. It’s impressive and ambitious. Ungraded instruction, parental governance, community commitment. Tell me something I didn’t read in the proposal.”
    Nadia smiled, then said, “Gratitude. I hadn’t thought much about what gratitude looked like in children. Eagerness, aliveness glowing in their eyes. But there is something more. A yearning beginning to be fulfilled, a longing they had no reason to expect would ever be met. Some days I leave a school and find myself teary with unexpected happiness.”
    Justine felt her eyes well up. “You surprise me, Nadia. I guess I expected something else. Longing would seem a rather adult emotion. I’m not sure I’ve seen it in children.”
    “Perhaps there are other words to explain what I’m seeing. But you said I surprised you. What did you think I would say?”
    She sipped her tea before speaking. “Some kind of education-talk, I suppose. Reading and math and tests and achievement. I’m becoming jaded by the direction U.S. schools are taking. It’s as though the human side of children is being exchanged for a technological view of life and learning. You know, children as objects, as robots.”
    “I know what you mean. As women, we’ve all had that experience.”
    “I’m afraid so. I’m enchanted to think about children, especially young