Under the cosy Victorian-style flats, I stumbled upon a strip of Arab stores and Arabic shop signs, accompanied by awkward English transliterations. It was a sight taken straight out of Alexandria. “Yasamin Clinic” had a large glass door with a printed, low-quality stock photo of a woman with eyes smudged with kohl. “Noor Supermarket” felt like home with its charming display of vegetables and meats facing the grubby traffic.
Then there it was, in a small nook off Sussex Gardens: Koshary El Tahrir.
The journey there was not easy. Rain had pierced my back as I climbed onto the double decker bus. We had to cross by the stereotypical London tourist sites – Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, Covent Garden. All that this renowned scenery could elicit from me was a casual, routine glance.
Initially, I was thrilled to arrive in the United Kingdom as an international student, enamoured by the range of multicultural backgrounds I encountered. It was astonishing how every crevice of London was filled to the brim with illustrious landmarks. Optimistically, I hoped to learn everything I could about the UK to integrate effectively.
Yet, that initial charm had worn off. The exciting buzz of opportunity faded, and I wrestled with the fear that I was woefully ill-equipped to take advantage of what was around me.
We climbed out of the bus and faced the harsh weather, which seemed to combat our every step to prevent us from reaching our goal.
Now for a confession: Koshary El Tahrir, although one of Egypt’s most popular restaurants, is not my favourite Koshary store. I believe Abou Tarek to be much superior. Nonetheless, I stormed in with my thick puffer jacket and felt familiar scents waft into my nose. Each group of customers sat politely at their tables, engaged in low-volume conversation. Every word I uttered louder than a whisper could be distinguished, far unlike the typical experience of Koshary El Tahrir in Egypt.
“So what exactly does this place serve again?” My friend inquired.
“Well, it’s a blend of every kind of carb you can think of. You’ll love it.”
As tasty as Egypt’s?
We ordered and received the classic “el-tahrir” plates, filled to the brim with chickpeas, lentils, pasta and rice. I carefully instructed my friend on Koshary etiquette: dump every sauce they give you onto your plate.
The Koshary tasted slightly less flavourful and was far more overpriced than its Egyptian counterpart, around EGP 515 in London compared to EGP 42, yet as I shovelled it down it satiated not only my hunger but also my soul. My poor friend was enamoured by the taste but could not handle how heavy it was, being used to far less seasoned and filling food.
The environment within Koshary El-Tahrir was not entirely Egyptian; British habits were sprinkled in next to Egyptian food and smells. Still, regardless of ethnicity, everyone in that shop was revelling in the unique taste of our food. The smell of spicy salsa lingered in the air around me, providing me with a small piece of home in a place so far away.
Building a Home you Love
When I first arrived abroad from Egypt, I felt an oppressive need to integrate. I could share humorous stories of home with friends, but I simultaneously hid away my Egyptian habits.
Sometimes, this was positive, as I began enjoying walks more and learned to be more open-minded to new experiences. However, it often manifested in stifling my own characteristics. I no longer spoke as loudly or truthfully. I meticulously monitored my appearance to maintain a false air of professionalism. I avoided making jokes that may be offensive or “too Egyptian”, and struggled to keep “ya3ny”, “bas”, “tab”, “mashy” out of my vocabulary.
We carried the leftovers outside as we walked home in the playful rain. The rain soaked me, but no longer pierced and modified me. I felt every drop of the British rain with a thrill, hoping to understand and explore it, but it did not wipe away my own sense of self. I learned to feel the rain as an addition to my experiences, rather than a hijacking of my person-hood and identity.
Koshary El Tahrir reminded me how it was possible to carve out a little nook for yourself and your experiences, even in the midst of a wider, dissimilar environment. You just have to work a little harder to build it.
You can find Koshary El Tahrir in London here.
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