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his house and showed me his daughter’s room. The house was an average house, and the room was quite generic, as young girls’ rooms go.
    “When you get your passport, if you are asked anything, you are to describe this house, this room,” he said. I didn’t even know what a passport was.
    Then we went to the home of a man who felt sneaky to me. I can’t say why, exactly, other than that he had a dishonest vibe about him. I can no longer describe what he looked like, but I still sense the extreme unease I felt at this place. Aymen said to the man, “I am the girl’s godfather and am in the process of adopting her.” While the words were news to me, I didn’t believe them. I knew Aymen said them so he could get what he wanted, which apparently was for the man to take my picture—after money changed hands. After some discussion Aymen handed the man more money and we left with a document that I later found out was a three-month visa to the United States. Aymen then took me back to the home of my captors.
    Soon after that The Mom and the kids left for the United States. Several weeks passed during which The Dad, an older servant woman, and I were the only people in that huge, huge house. I began to wonder what was going to happen to me.
    One day I was surprised to find my parents at the door. My mother packed my meager collection of clothing into a suitcase that had been obtained for me, and she added a photo of my family. Then my mom and dad spent the night with me on the fifth floor. I was thrilled that my mom and dad were there. Maybe we were going to stay together after all!
    The next morning I got into a car with them and we went to the airport in Cairo. I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t know I was permanently leaving the palatial home of my captors, or that I was going to fly halfway around the world. I also didn’t have a clue that it would be the last time I ever saw my mom and dad.
    Outside the airport, at the drop-off area for departing flights, we met up with Aymen.
    “Good-bye,” my mom and dad said. “We love you. We’ll talk on the phone and we’ll see you soon.”
    I never knew if my parents intentionally lied to me or if my captors had not told them the truth. I was leaving Egypt forever.
    •    •    •
    After a long flight Aymen and I landed in New York City. Aymen had not sat with me; he’d been in the front of the plane and I’d been in one of the last seats in the back. No one had taken the time to explain about flying to me. I had understood the concept. I had seen planes fly overhead before. But I hadn’t known about the change in the cabin pressure as the plane rose into the sky, or that you could hear and feel the wheels clank as they slid back into the body of the plane. I had been bewildered during the flight, but hadn’t known enough to be afraid.
    Too, I hadn’t expected the twenty-plus hours of travel time or the enormous size of the endless ocean. I didn’t know how to read and had no toys to bring with me. With nothing to do, I’d soon fallen asleep. The entire experience had been too much to process and I had worn myself out.
    After we landed in New York, Aymen and I transferred to another plane. On the way to the new gate, we walked past rows and rows of windows, but I barely noticed them. Instead I was overwhelmed with the bustle of the airport and the odd-sounding language that I later learned was English. And the clothes. I could not believe my eyes. I was astonished that women in the United States wore pants and also that they did not wear head scarves.
    What most amazed me, though, were people of Asian descent. I had never seen an Asian person before. I didn’t know any such kind of person existed. I had seen a few white people on the news when I had walked by one of the many television sets my captors had in Egypt, but the enticing, exotic look of people from China, Japan, and other Asian countries was a thing to wonder about. Being in the