Don Follis 6/29/2001 religion column:
"Cairo pastor exemplifies the joy of the Lord"
Rev. Zakaria Abiskairoon stood in the lobby of the old Victoria Hotel near
downtown Cairo, Egypt, speaking in Arabic to one of the hotel housekeepers.
When I saw a white-haired man dressed in a gray suit and clerical
collar I
approached him and spoke in English, "Excuse me, sir. Are you
Rev. Zakaria?"
"Oh, it's Pastor Don from
America. Welcome to Cairo," said Rev. Zakaria,
beaming a near toothless smile. He met my wife and children,
but was eager
for us to head to the El Hambra neighborhood and visit The Standard
Church,
a Christian Church where he serves as pastor.
Outside the hotel, we hailed
one of Cairo's ubiquitous black and white
Fiat taxis. Rev. Zakaria chatted with the driver as the Fiat
wound through
the back streets of Cairo. We went from a four-lane thoroughfare,
to a
two-lane street, to a one-lane dirt road. The car bounced along
through a
labyrinth of old buildings and shops. Children playing along
the lane and
donkeys pulling carts of tomatoes moved aside to the sound of the taxi's
constant horn.
Finally the driver stopped
in front of The Standard Church. The one-room
church occupied the first floor of a five-story row house. Six
wooden pews
lined each side of an aisle that led to a pulpit and a tapestry of
Jesus on
the cross.
"Please come upstairs and meet my daughter and her children," said
Rev.
Zakaria. We walked up concrete stairs to a second-floor apartment
where
Rev. Zakaria lives with his daughter and her two young children.
A
10-by-12- foot room serves as Rev. Zakaria's bedroom and church office.
"My dear wife died 15 years
back, and these grandchildren provide me with
such joy," said the 73-year-old pastor. "Of course, there is
such great
joy is serving the dear people in the El Hambra neighborhood."
Rev. Zakaria took us in
his nephew's car to visit some young people in his
congregation. A few minutes from the church, we were winding
up worn stone
stairs of a building that served as the home to many families.
Several women with head
coverings observed us closely as we met two
teen-age boys in their one-room home about the size of an average American
bedroom. There was a bed and a stove and no place to sit.
We talked a few
minutes before Rev. Zakaria asked me to pray for the boys and their
mother.
I prayed in English. Zakaria prayed in Arabic. "The
oldest boy is 19 and
he is trying to get into the university," he said.
Outside, Rev. Zakaria's
nephew poured some fuel from a small red gas can
into his old red Fiat, then waited to take us back to the center of
Cairo.
Rev. Zakaria sat in the front and the four of us crunched into the
tiny
back seat.
As the traffic grew congested
Rev. Zakaria turned around and said, "We
would like to sing for you." He and his nephew proceeded to sing
a hymn in
Arabic with great gusto. Rev. Zakaria pounded the seat with his
hand to
keep the rhythm. As the traffic crept to a stop the decrepit
red Fiat
pulled alongside a late-model gold Mercedes. The pastor and his
nephew
sang at the top of their lungs as three women in the back seat of the
Mercedes, their heads entirely covered, looked in our car and watched.
When the song was over,
Rev. Zakaria translated the song. "This song
explains that life is a journey. It can be a hard journey, but
Jesus is
waiting to welcome us at the end of our life."
Suddenly the two men broke
into another song and again sang passionately
as the obedient Fiat, horn blaring, danced with the Cairo traffic.
That
song concluded as we neared our destination in downtown Cairo.
Taking 30 Egyptian pounds
(about $10) from my pocket, I tried to stuff it
into Rev. Zakaria's hand. Acting almost offended, Rev. Zakaria
pushed my
hand away. "My nephew's ministry is to drive people around Cairo
when they
have a need, and my joy is to be with you, dear brother. Don't
give us
money and deprive us of our joy."
I crammed the money back
in my pocket as Rev. Zakaria kissed me on both
cheeks. Beaming his nearly toothless smile, he jumped back into
the idling
old Fiat. Smoke belched out the muffler. Rev. Zakaria and
his nephew
waved wildly as the red Fiat resumed its dance.
Don Follis is an Urbana minister. Reprinted with permission from
the
Champaign-Urbana News-Gazette, copyright 2001.