One of my first lessons about social conservatism and liberalism was given to me, quite inadvertently, by my mother. Soon after we arrived in Egypt in 1976, both my mother and I came down with hepatitis A. Because I was not quite six years old at the time, I was hit harder than she was. I woke up one night with an extremely high fever—so high, in fact, that I was delerious. I was screaming at the top of my lungs for my mother, who was right there, holding me.
This must have terrified mom, who could not, at that time, speak any Arabic. It did not help that it was after midnight in a town where she knew next to nothing. Deciding that a doctor was desperately needed, she did the sensible thing; she ran downstairs to ask for help at the only open place of business in the vicinity, which happened to be the night club in the building next door.
The neighbors, who had apparently heard my screams, watched her run frantically down the stairs to seek help. They did this quite surreptitiously, so as not to be seen themselves. They saw her run into the night club, where she was received with genuine concern.
The neighbors, who hid so that they would not have to give help, condemned my mother for entering such a den of iniquity. The night club folk got her a doctor.
At the time, I was too young to understand just what had happened, although I actually remember the events. Years later, the memory made me look back and go "Hmmmm..."
And it still does.
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