You graduated from university few years ago. You've been working in the same unsatisfying job since, or perhaps you've been hopping from job to job, still not finding what you're looking for. In fact, you probably have absolutely no idea what you're looking for. You ask yourself a question. Should I stay in Egypt or should I move abroad? Most Egyptians with the money to make the move have considered it, and those without the money have dreamt of it. So what shall it be? Stay or go?
During high school and university, it seemed to me like all the well educated, talented, resourceful Egyptians were leaving the country; leaving behind them the poor, poorly educated, and the poorly ambitious. Even though I am Egyptian American myself with loyalties to both countries, I hate the fact that all the qualified Egyptians were leaving and felt it was very "unpatriotic" of them. How would Egypt ever improve if those capable of improving it leave the country? I started to believe that it was our duty; those of us who have been well educated, have the financial resources, qualifications, and creative minds, to stay and help the country move towards its potential. I thought it was very selfish of those who decided to abandon their country for the sake of a better life for themselves, leaving the rest behind.

As I grew up and started working, I got into the field of education, and was getting paid pretty well for an Egyptian in my age. I thought that I could make a happy living for myself, doing a noble job, yet making a relatively decent amount of money. I had high hopes for what I could do as a teacher and for the younger generations. Eventually though, I realized it wasn't making me happy. I couldn't handle the corruption in the schools, especially the private ones in which I worked. I couldn't handle seeing students in 11th grade, who are at 6th grade level, and have somehow been allowed to pass year after year. I couldn't stand how the school owners only cared about money, and not about their students nor their teachers, let alone their cleaning staff. I hated how one teacher would get paid LE 15,000 per month, while another got LE 600 per month, the only difference being a foreign passport. I felt bad that I was getting a much higher salary than Egyptian teachers who have been teaching for 30 years, but I also couldn't stand getting paid a fraction of what other foreign teachers were getting because of their blond hair and blue eyes.

Then came the job itself; teaching. How could you teach a class when the students' levels vary from some who cannot utter a word of English, to others who are fluent? Or students with an IQ of 100 in the same class a student with an IQ of 140? Or students who had no desire to learn, while others loved to learn? How could you prepare lessons when the school barely provides you teaching resources (i.e. only a textbook, if they even provide you with one)? And on top of that, you have to deal with the emotional dissatisfaction with the school management, other teachers, your salary, the lack of interest of the students' parents, and just the whole system. Does it sound miserable? Well, it was. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't that bad, and that I was better off than many others. But at the end of the day, I just wasn't happy. Of course work was only one of many issues. There were family issues, the social drama which drove me crazy, the classism of my social circle, and of course the pollution, harassment, and "kossa" (squash!) that every aspect of the country operated in.

And then I realized something. The same way that a parent cannot effectively and happily raise their children when they themselves are depressed or dissatisfied with their lives, an individual cannot be a productive member of their family, group of friends, workplace, or society, if they are feeling the same. What would Egypt gain if I stayed? I would have grown to become too hopeless, miserable, and cynical to actually be positive influence on anybody or anything. I would've, like most people who work in Egypt, given up on the illusion that you could do your job honestly and happily, that you could avoid gossip and hypocrisy, and that you could earn (and spend!) every penny in a fully honest way. Should I wait until I am old and bitter, married with kids, and pass my bitterness onto them? A sad person in a sad country is no use. I decided it was time for me to go.

Now, it has been about a year since I moved to America and I am happy.

Moving wasn't all that I expected. Finding a job, apartment, friends, or even just getting a phone line (you would never imagine!), were far more difficult than in Egypt (I do admit, I miss "kossa" sometimes). But I soon realized that whatever complications I face here; and trust me, there have been many, I have not for one moment been nearly as stressed or unhappy as I was in Egypt on a daily basis. And I don't even think I fully realized how unhappy and stressed I was until I moved here and had a better life to compare it to.
What is ironic is this. I work at a bookstore, I make about the same amount of money as I did in Egypt, even though the living standards are incredibly different (and I have to pay rent!), and I live on my own, without someone to cook and clean for me, a car to ride, or a zillion friends I know who are there if I want to talk or go out. And yet, even to my parents disbelief, ("E7na mesh fahmeen, inti ghawya bahdala ya binti?"), I am far happier than I've ever been.
I'm happy to be able to breathe clean air. I'm happy to not be around all the negativity which emotes from people in Egypt. I'm glad I don't have to drive or ride in a car every day and feel like the end of my life will surely be caused by a car accident. I love how I don't have to pretend to like someone, or be someone's friend, just because there's no way escaping someone you're not fond of in Egypt. You will find them in your face wherever you go. I like the freedom of not having to worry too much about what I'm wearing, or where I'm walking, or which nasty guy in the street is going to try to harass me. It's great being in a place where people care about improving themselves and helping others. In America, people read Psychology and Self- Help books like it's their job; even though many of them don't need it. Egyptians need to read self help books like it's their job, but they don't.
I'm not really sure how to end this. I don't know what the moral of my story is or why I even wrote this. Maybe it's just a reflection on my one year anniversary of my new life here. I guess part of me hopes that those of you who remain in Egypt will understand why some of us decide to leave. Another part of me hopes that those of who are somehow able to be happy there can somehow work on the things that make the rest of us flee. But I think I mostly hope that you will learn that (in my opinion) your own happiness must come first, because without a happy, healthy, stable, base (yourself), you cannot branch out and spread that happiness and healthiness elsewhere, whether we're talking about your family, friends, or country. Egypt cannot improve unless each of us improves ourselves; even if it means for some people like myself, leaving the country.
Will I move back to Egypt someday? Well, only time will tell. But unless the day comes when I think that I could actually be happy and make a positive difference, then why should I return?

Disclaimer: This article does not reflect Zed’s opinion in the matter of fleeing Egypt, actually quite the contraire. But since we believe in freedom of speech, and we felt that this article might reflect the views of some of the Egyptians who left Egypt to live abroad, we decided to publish it nonetheless.