Absolutely Insane Yet True Stories of Five Egyptian Teenagers

Being a teenager is one of the most exciting things ever. Everyone wants to be us! Our generation is by far the weirdest, most creative and loving generation. We live life to the fullest, but sometimes, we eff up BIG TIME! Here are five anonymous, secret stories about five teenagers in Cairo.

 

 

 

 

L.D.:  I was 15 and I traveled to Beirut alone for the first time. I went out every night, met new people, drank, had fun, exchanged numbers. Nightlife there is unexplainable.

I was with two of my cousins at a bar and we were videotaping each other, drinking and dancing, until suddenly I found a teacher of mine entering the bar. My jaw dropped. I was shocked. I was thinking, “Oh my God. Destiny. Small world. What the fuck is happening?!” I was ecstatic and drunk, so I called him over. It was hysterical! We had small talk, we took a picture together and exchanged numbers.

He texted me the next day and we planned to meet up. We were texting the old-fashioned way as we didn’t have phone lines to call each other, so we had to be there on time. It was so amusing.

We met and it was delightful. We talked about everything and it was very casual, but he told me to keep it a secret, not to tell anyone. My lips were sealed. But, of course, my best friend was an exception.

We met again the next day and went to a bar in Gemayze. The bartender who works there is another teacher’s cousin (exactly what you’re thinking: SMALL WORLD!) so I couldn’t say my real name or age, which made it even more fun and exhilarating. It was all so thrilling. Why wouldn’t it be, right? I felt like I was doing something wrong and it satisfied me.

We texted nonstop until we both went back to Cairo. I would see him at school and wave. We texted for three months straight. He was my friend, until it turned into a total disaster…

I was at a nightclub in Downtown Cairo and it was my first time there. I got wasted and was having fun with my friend. It was all innocent, right? Then we met a group of foreigners. We told them a small lie, that my friend and I were dating. To continue the role playing and make it seem believable, we kissed just to mess with their heads. I wanted to freak them out and the words just spilled out of my mouth, “I’m dating my teacher, Mr. So-And-So…”

I was just a fifteen-year-old girl, drunk, dazed and confused. It was all for the sake of having fun. I was joking, but how would they know? I left and woke up the next morning hungover, my head pounding. I looked at my phone and saw a message from him saying, “We need to talk, you could’ve jeopardized my job…” I threw the phone to my friend and told her to deal with it because I was too sick and I didn’t want to cause more destruction. It was the most humiliating thing ever. Turns out that those foreigners were — you guessed it — his friends!

I gave him a month to cool off. Then, I wrote him an apology letter on a piece of paper, the old-fashioned way, and gave it to him at school. He accepted my apology, but he didnt forgive me. He told me that we should keep it professional. Teacher, student. Nothing more and that’s how he treats me now.

 

 

 

 

M.T.: I was 16 when I had my first girlfriend. I was deeply, madly, passionately in love with her. She was everything to me. We attended the same school, which was a huge perk. One day, we were making out in the girl’s bathroom. I think people even heard our moans, but it didn’t last. A maid caught us and we were immediately directed to the principal’s office.

I was frightened, but I knew I had to come out to my parents. I had nothing to lose, right? They were going to find out eventually and having it coming from me was better than from someone else.

Our parents forced us to transfer schools, change our phone numbers and never see each other again. Just like we never met. That’s what they tried to do. Brainwash me. Erase her from my memory, but nothing could do that. I can’t unfeel what I feel for her.

That day, she gave me a green bracelet that I’m still wearing to this day after three years. I never heard about her since. The bracelet is the only thing I have left. It’s what ties me to her.

 

 

 

 

R.K.: My life is a train wreck. You know how kids, before they hit puberty, were bullied because of how fat or hairy they were and if you were friends with someone who wore glasses or had curly hair you were basically a loner? Yeah, I was that girl.

Things at home were pretty shit since the beginning. My parents weren’t divorced, we didn’t have money problems, but my mom was abusive. My mom suspected I was a lesbian since the age of 10 and she separated me from my best friend because she thought we were doing “stuff”, so I was basically the saddest girl ever.

My brother traveled to England for university when I was in grade eight and that’s when my interest in boys started to grow. My father started to be distant with me and I didn’t understand why. So I started to latch on to boys to find a replacement for what was missing in my life.

When I lost weight and had my eyebrows done, it’s like I was a different person. People started to respect me and, oddly enough, the people who used to bully me became some of my closest friends. I started dating and, well, if it wasn’t for my first boyfriend, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. After the breakup, I felt the need to get into a new relationship as soon as I could because I just didn’t want to be alone.

I finally dated a guy who was three years older than I was. The relationship was a secret because we both dated each other’s best friends. It was great in the beginning, but then he started getting verbally abusive and always wanting to make out with me and asking me for sex and he’d get so mad if I said I didn’t want to.

So I told a friend about what was going on and I didn’t think she would talk to him, but she did. He then got super mad and threatened to tell my mom that I made out with him and said that he would lie and tell her I slept with him if I didn’t send him nudes. I was 14 at the time. So I did. A week later, he broke up with me.

I was out having dinner with my parents one night when I got a phone call from a friend telling me that our best friend had just died. I told my parents that we had to go home. I went on Facebook and everyone was posting “Rest in Peace”. Then I got a Facebook message that said, “You’re such a slut, how can you post your own nudes on a website called ‘ask.fm’?”

I didn’t understand. I went on my account and found a fake account with my name and my full body nudes. I was done. I thought my life was over. I was going to kill myself. My best friend at the time called my mom, knowing I was going to do something stupid.

My mom came into my room and handed me the phone and my best friend was crying, “Please don’t kill yourself. We will fix everything.” I tried going to sleep and about 20 minutes later, I heard my mother’s scream and a loud thud. I went outside and found my father passed out on the floor, nearly having a heart attack.

Since, then my father has been super ill. My mom beat me up so hard, I didn’t think I was going to make it out alive. Two days later, my brother was sent my nudes on Facebook and he became an alcoholic. I spent these past three years being ashamed of something I did when I was 14 years old.

Over the years, I went through so much shit. I was sexually harassed by my Arabic teacher, who has seen my nudes from classmates. I have been touched without my consent just walking in my school hallway. I’ve been verbally harassed by both girls and boys and my mother.

 

 

 

A.H.: Growing up as a teenager in Egypt is hard enough, but growing up as a gay teenager was a bigger challenge compared to what other boys have to face. As I grew up, I realized I was gay. It wasn’t easy to accept, since I was raised in a community where being gay is considered a sin. Thankfully, I grew up with open-minded friends who accepted me for who I am.

When I discovered an app called Grindr, it was the worse choice of my life to press that download button. I lost my virginity to the first guy I matched with. I was 11 and I don’t even remember his name. Years passed and I talked to many guys, most of whom were perverts.

One day, I talked to a guy who I really liked and decided to meet him. When we met, he seemed very decent. Then he asked me to come home with him, and I felt put on the spot, so I said yes. When we got to his apartment, I felt something fishy going on. The lights were all on even though he said he lived alone.

We sat down and smoked a cigarette, then he became really touchy and asked me to take my clothes off, which I did. As soon as I took my top off, a man I didn’t know entered the room. I put my top back on, even though he asked me not to, so he slapped me really hard. He asked me to have a seat, so I did. He told me that he was going to call “The Box” if I didn’t give him ten thousand pounds. I started to cry and he slapped me again and pulled out a phone and started filming me crying while I was half naked and told me he was going to put this online and that the police were on their way.

I stopped crying and after half an hour of me sitting there, they started to ask me questions like why am I doing this and saying it’s against religion and that I have such a bright future and all that bullshit. I made up a story that I’m actually straight and I just can’t get with girls. I guess they felt bad for me and they decided to let me go, but they took my phone and money. I was just thankful that they let me go. I thought I was going to be killed. Lesson learned: Never use Grindr again and never go to a stranger’s house.

 

 

 

 

Z.T.: It all started when I was with my friends in a car, cruising around Zamalek and having fun. We were listening to Pink Floyd and smoking up. Then they brought out what we call “bissa”, which is a small pack of heroin. They started sniffing and looked so pale with their eyes popped out, but they seemed to enjoy it. They offered me some and at first, I was shocked, but I was curious, so I took it.

As soon as I snorted, Pink Floyd suddenly made sense. But then I started puking and it was bad. Days, weeks, months passed.

Now, I can finally say that I was addicted. I couldn’t admit it back then, no addict will ever admit that they’re addicted. Heroin was the love my life. Heroin was everything I had and I was only 17.

When my father found out, he sent me to rehab in Lebanon. I didn’t want to stop, I loved it. Unfortunately, the day I arrived in Lebanon, my father passed away. He was my idol. I loved him as much as I loved heroin.

Rehab was an experience. I was locked up for six months straight. It was horrifying, depressing and dark. But in reality, it wasn’t. It was a beautiful place on top of a mountain. We did yoga and read, it was relaxing.

They were trying to do anything to make us feel better about ourselves to stop heroin. It was horrifying to me because I didn’t want to stop. I realized that I was living too fast, too slow. I met people who were just like me and people who were in a tougher situation that I couldn’t even compare myself to. After six months, I was finally clean, free, independent and ready to go back to Cairo.

 

 

 

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