Personal Narrative: Egypt, The Land Of The Free

Witnessing my first bombing is the turning point of my teenage years. The shudder of three story apartment building awoken my sibling and I; the deafening sound splitting my eyelids open. With no conscious decision, I cover my brother with as much protection my petite body can give. Approximately two seconds after the incident, the bomb had done its assignment, leaving chaos on the neighboring streets. My body was shaking out of horror, realizing what Egypt has become.
All of my childhood I remember Egypt being a paradise with my mother, a native to the country, always brought a nostalgic feeling of the Arabian world to the Khalil household. She did not choose to reside in the United States; she was brought to this country by force by her sister at the ripe age of twenty four. She has disdained the “Land of the Free” the moment she stepped off her flight and was determined to preserve her Arab heritage not only in her life, but her children as well.Through my middle school years, my mother’s tales of Egyptian living were increasing exponentially, as was her dislike of American culture.I fantasized about visiting the country of my heritage. My parents were
The locals no longer saw an innocent child, but an American that deteriorated its tourism, and therefore its economy. My sleep arrangements consisted of me resting on an aged mattress with two other people in an unairconditioned apartment. I experienced my first unwanted sexual experience in Khan el Khalili. His reasoning was that I was asking for it because my hair was not uncovered. When the trip came to an end, so did my desire to be in the Arab