THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL | OCTOBER 2023 43 THIRD CULTURE KIDS The Enduring Effects OF FORMATIVE YEARS IN CAIRO Mary Mariko Muro, Ph.D., the daughter of Osamu Muro, U.N. technical assistance expert in Cairo (1959-1961), writes and lectures in Yokohama, Japan. Jill P. Strachan, Ph.D., the daughter of D. Alan Strachan, whose last posting as an FSO was as director of the Colombo Plan in Sri Lanka (1966-1970), is happily writing nonfiction in Washington, D.C. John R. Whitman, Ph.D., the son of Roswell H. Whitman, whose last posting as an FSO was as minister for economic affairs in Japan (1961-1962), is teaching and writing in Chicago, Illinois. The authors would be delighted to hear from similar groups. Write to John at johnrwhitman@mac.com. FOCUS ON FS FAMILIES AT HOME Long after retirement, a group of TCKs who were grade-school classmates in Egypt reunited online. Here they tell their story. BY MARY MARIKO MURO, JILL P. STRACHAN, AND JOHN R. WHITMAN It all started with an article about Cairo’s antique elevators by Vivian Lee in The New York Times on Sept. 20, 2021. One of our classmates from primary school at Cairo American College (CAC) more than 60 years ago had, amazingly, found email addresses for many of us. He sent around this amusing account of up-and-down “scenes of love and fear,” suspecting it would evoke a special feeling among his peers who had shared the experience of Cairo together as preteens. Then they began to respond from Oslo; Paris; Tokyo; Tucson, Arizona; Monte Rio, California; Washington, D.C.; St. Augustine, Florida; Chicago, Illinois; Cushing, Maine; Newfield, New York; and Port Ludlow, Washington. Their emails recounted anecdotes of elevator experiences in Egypt, which led, in turn, to encounters with lifts in Paris, followed by other stories. Sounded like an interesting group. What if we all met up on Zoom? The invitation struck a chord. Perhaps it was the hunger to connect with others during the COVID-19 pandemic, combined with curiosity about what ever happened to that kid on the school bus from Zamalek or at the Maadi Sporting Club pool. Seeing a former schoolmate you haven’t set eyes on in 60 years is a kind of wake-up call. First, of course, you see how a child you thought you would always remember as a child has transformed into an adult approaching seniority, like yourself! And then the reawakening expands your consciousness, recalling the vivid, sometimes momentous times you spent together living the dream of climbing the pyramids, riding Arabian horses across the Sahara, partying in Bedouin tents, hearing the evocative call of the muezzin, gazing at the timeless image of feluccas gliding on the Nile, experiencing the warmth of Cairenes and the heat of their sun, and surviving those idiosyncratic elevators in your shared childhood. The bond of being a third culture kid (TCK) is real. Every month now, going on two years, we all dial in for a couple of hours of revivified camaraderie and talk about what these experiences meant to us and how we and our families have advanced since those ephemeral years in the land of the
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