What Meets the Eye

By: May Kosba

She arrived seven minutes before the session starts at ten in the morning. None of her colleagues showed up yet. Can’t complain, the only reason she made it that early is coincidently living about five minutes away from where the training is taking place. After all she can’t avoid the last minute attitude engraved in her genes like most Egyptians. The clock finally ticks 10:00 am, it seems that trainees, trainers, training staff are here including herself ready to ignite the week long training roller coaster.

She sits among trainees, not quite aware if its out of a modest behavior or only trying to convince herself she takes the know-how after her boss. He’s talented; he knows how to keep the show running for as long as it takes, yet interesting. Looking at him talk and move is just too confusing and crippling. She’s not an MIT, its just how the show goes. She always had a distaste for comparisons and tests. She likes to be spontaneous and expects her spontaneity is greeted with both appreciation and respect. After all, spontaneity cannot be deemed effortless. When she talks anyone can see her aura filled with passion and gentleness.

The icebreaking process is something that she and her colleagues should take part carrying out with the trainees, but this time is different, the old man seeks bedazzling the kids. Look at how they gaze at him, charmed, as if a magician with endless tricks in his pocket waiting to come out like fireworks to change their life forever. This image slowly poisons her mood as the countdown brings her show near to the starting moment. What seems to be confusing is the nature of her team’s cause; is it educating them with “development” and what comes with it, or how to perfectly play gimmicks and what comes with it.

 

 

It is time that she takes the reign of “development” and herself. The outset was a little rough, she knew it would be. As always, never ceased her promise to herself to acknowledge where she stands compared to her boss; experience and knowledge wise by saying her infamous line “It’s always difficult to do after Dr. Thabet” and doesn’t seem to care less about how it is perceived by the trainees, she knows by only standing there and the way she looks and speaks will never be casted among them. She knows deep in her heart, she’s of a different kind.

Wearing the trainer’s hat feels completely different from the trainee’s hat. It felt a bit heavy in the beginning. There she stands looking at young boys and girls and a few oldies thinking of how to make a good long lasting impression. She began pulling out tricks of her making to make her points clear and help them change the face of the future in their communities, that’s what her job is about.

The more she talks and moves, the more they gaze back, intensely. For some reason the men’s aura doesn’t tell they grasped much about community development, however, something like “sexual desires development” or something of a very nasty nature. Doesn’t take a genius to tell what’s going on in their heads. Their eyes are the most suitable interpreter. She wished they looked her in the eye, or her hands. It’s amazing how they are not affected by her enthusiasm and effort like the girls, they had their eyes fixed on her breasts and above her thighs instead.

She felt naked, humiliated, and endangered. Their piercing gazes made her feel like a Ghazeya but who dances at twelve at noon except a frustrated development trainer, in a training classroom surrounded by sexually oppressed creatures. Aren’t we all oppressed married or not? She thought.

Young lines of sweat found their way on her cringing skin. In her head, pacing back and forth, thoughts unfold in her mind; she knows the mind can’t hold two conflicting thoughts, what atbout dozen revengeful ones?! Her anger Bears can’t wait to monster those smelly ugly looking mad dogs.

She’s the trainer and this is another test of the survival of feminine strength. She has to win this game. This one single positive thought struggling to dominate her strife. For a moment, her exhausted glances drifted towards a dove looking from outside the window. A silly wish of her a dove, the best you can admire about is how beautiful creature she is not how cylindrical.

She’s always been good at what she deos and she’ll keep doing what she’s doing hoping someday she’ll have their eyes meet hers.

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