Curiosity ~ Lucidity ~ Humanity
You spoke of memories this morning in your note to me, dearest Hannah. Here is one of mine.
In 1976, I invited my dearly departed friend (Nathene Loveland, once a dancer with Martha Graham; later a therapist in DC) on a memorable trip under sail from Elephantine Island (across the river from Aswan) where I had a tiny mud brick house rented from my Nubian neighbors. Your mother surely remembers it and can perhaps share her own memories of this time and place.
It was October and the weather was perfect. Not too warm nor too cold. The dry climate of upper Egypt is always mild and comfortable from October until April or May. In summer, it tops 100. That year, It could not have been better for outdoor living. From Aswan, we were Luxor bound.
We set sail under a full moon. The Temple of Komombo would be our first destination. We moored beneath its steps and slept very comfortably on or makeshift bed cradled in moonlight and history. When we had a “nature call”, we jumped ashore. That night, while squatting some ways away for discretion, Nathene found a lovely stone. Might it have been Carnelian? I don't recall. We dubbed it the “Pee Stone”. Later, she had it set as a ring in a silver mounting hand made by a local jeweler.
The southern sky was ablaze with stars that first night and the wind was good all week. Our boatman had laid in some food for us for the journey. He did the cooking as well as the sailing and created a double bed for us by putting quilt covered planks across the benches of his Felluca. He had a Primus stove on which he fired up and created some wonderful meals on this unforgettable week-long journey.
The Nile is wondrous. It is a river of enchantment. It is Egypt’s lifeline. Without it there would be little life as we know it. It is of course for this reason that it is called “Gift of the Nile”. A famous medieval Arab poet described it in verse saying that Egypt was a narrow ribbon of green (Life) on either banks of the river. Beyond it the vast and tawny desert offered striking contrast and no visible sign of life. There is life in that desert, however, but that’s a story for another time.
Nathene and I felt bereft as we approached Luxor and the end of our enchanted and all too brief voyage. This experience bonded us and Nathenie (as her daughter and I both called her) remained a fast friend until her passing some years later.
This little poem which I am sharing with you is also the child of another trip with my friend Andrea and a pair of American youngsters who came to Egypt with the intent of studying irrigation methods. It was a fine trip. I wrote a few fish recipes for the Egyptian Gazette born of this trip which we took in winter. To stay warm I had a seamstress sew me a long skirt made out of black and off white wool. It was heavy as it was meant for coats. I topped it off with an Irish fisherman’s sweater. It was just what was needed, especially at night when the temperatures dropped and cold winds from the desert could be chilling.
I wore the same outfit on another trip to the Sinai desert and the famed and secluded monastery of Saint Catherine where my father was much revered having catalogued the library of Arabic books and manuscripts for the Greek Orthodox monks who had lived there for centuries. In gratitude the monks offered him the ancient icon (painted on wood) that you see hanging directly across from you when you enter the front door at Coral Cottage. What a long way to go and what an unexpected place for this treasure to land! The monks dedicated it to my father . In Greek they expressed gratitude on the back of the icon. Catherine was known for her scholarship and sits surrounded by books. Somehow, the choice of this icon for my father was most appropriate.
By the way, Dad did the same cataloguing of ancient Arabic manuscripts for the Library of Congress much later--in the 1950’s. He had been awarded a Fulbright to do this and was the first Egyptian Fullbright scholar to the United States. He and your Teta Lola went by themselves that year (1951, I think) leaving my brother and I in the care of our loving grandmother—Katrina—and our nanny, Saykeena who fed us so well that upon returning Mama was shocked to see that we had doubled in size; ballooned. I am sure you can imagine the scene. Mama Lola promptly took charge and put us on a diet.
When, as a family, we departed on board the Celebes, a Dutch cargo vessel taking around 12 passengers, we landed in Boston. It was 1954. How fortuitous is this now that you and Ana have chosen it as your city!
Enough for now. More for another time, perhaps.
Sending you so very much love,
Your Teta
1976-1987
Lateen sails are hoisted
We time travel
once more recalling
feathers plucked
from our vessel's
unfurling canvas
Brilliantly white
sails capture the wind
moving us forward
in concert with
the flow of the river
as it travels from North to South
Later, we pick through
our recollections
tenderly culling from them
significant moments
Preserved in seed banks and silos
memories bubble up
stiring our hearts
Much like hermit crabs
seeking roomier shelters
as they grow
we too have moved
from shell to shell
marking our individual trajectories
Now as we continue to journey
evanescent images float by
Light as silk scarves
yet dense with detail
they narrow the gap
between past
and present
while the Nile
without fail
carries
our
history
Nayra
Summer 2026
The most famous monumental reference to crows is an enormous Old Kingdom stone wall located near the Giza Pyramids and the Sphinx. Named after the local Arabic designation for the ridge, it marked the boundary of the labor settlement known as the Lost City of the Pyramids.
A memory of crows observed long ago is dear to my heart. In the Pacific Northwest they cruised for hours outside my granddaughter's bedroom window. Reclining on our backs we never tired of watching them; transfixed and transported.
This poem is dedicated to Amina Love as she and I continue to share a love for and fascination with all of the crows we remember and those we encounter as we journey.
I have always loved them
admired their intelligence
long memory
their devotion to family
their cheeky stances
Sublime!
Black ones come calling and cawing
Filling the Coral Cottage trees of my golden years
with their raucous declarations
Vivid!
In my native Egypt
they diligently
guarded my palm groves
proud and loud
clad in dull grey and black feathers
like birds in nuns’ habits
Eternal!
Nayra
October 16, 2026