My Snapshot of the Zabbaleen: A Tribute to Cairo's Garbage Collectors

"They looked to Him and were radiant, and their faces were not ashamed."

- Psalm 34: 5

I want to share with you one of my most precious memories. It is the day I learned heaven rejoices at the sound of a child’s laughter.

It was during my first trip to the Middle East.  We were in Egypt for 10 days, mainly visiting friends in Alexandria, but we decided to tag a couple of days in Cairo to the end of our trip. On this particular day, we made plans to visit Cairo’s Garbage City.  I wasn’t feeling well, but this place had captured my interest more strongly than the pyramids, so I gathered my strength and joined my friends for what would prove to be a memorable day. 

Although our goal was to hang out with the locals, we started our day as tourists. A friend took us to the Cave Church that Garbage City is known for, Sama’ans Church, which lies at the base of a mountain said to have been moved by faith in the 10^th century.  The mountain came first, then the Zabbaleen (Garbage Collectors).  While it was nice to visit the Sama’ans Church and learn the history of the mountain, our purpose in going was to meet the people, but we were running out of time. And yet, we soon discovered time wasn’t an issue at all.

Earlier that day, our friend offered to spend the morning showing us Garbage City, after which he would return to work for the day.  Morning quickly became afternoon and we headed back through the village and into the heart of Cairo, but we weren’t finished. As we drove past the Zabbaleen, we knew we had to stop. We convinced our friend to give us 5 minutes and then climbed out the car, 1 Egyptian and 5 foreigners. We were a sight to behold for more reasons than one. We drew a crowd, not simply because we were a group of foreigners, but also because we began to pray for the sick and injured and they were healed. People came from their houses dragging their kids and other family members to receive prayer. Some were sick and others just wanted a blessing. The faith of the Zabbaleen to receive a gift from God was strong, and it was evident that they wanted the good gifts our Heavenly Father had to offer.

As I stood among the crowd, I felt a tug at my shirt. Looking down, there was a small boy with a pained expression on his face. I knew he needed prayer, but I wasn’t sure what for. He didn’t speak English and I didn’t have a translator, but he pointed to his finger. So I prayed and asked the Holy Spirit to heal the need though I was ignorant of the exact condition. After a few seconds, I understood that his finger was broken and he was unable to bend it. I gently rubbed my finger across his and prayed for healing. Seconds later, I made a bending motion with my hand to encourage him to try to bend his finger. He shook his head. I prayed a little while longer and repeated the gesture. Again, he shook his head. I prayed again and waited for direction from the Holy Spirit. Then once again, I opened and closed my hand and gestured for him to do the same. This time, he repeated the motion with no problem.  When he saw that his finger was healed, his face lit up. Following each miracle, we pointed to the sky and said Jesus in Arabic, then praised Him. Before I could do this, the little boy took off running after a truck. As he ran, the sound of his laughter flowed to my ears and filled my heart. I watched him jump on the back of the truck and foolishly warned him to be careful. He was a boy, and his joy had returned.

In that moment, as his laughter filled the air, I noticed something shift around us. The day was brighter and light seemed to fill the village. I lost awareness of the garbage piled up in the streets and turned my gaze from the sky to the faces of the people. It was like the heavens had opened and the Father was smiling down on us, and in response, hoped filled all of our hearts as we stood in the streets. Our countenances changed, and I felt heaven rejoice.

As we left that day, I was amazed, not just at God’s awesome power, but at the hearts of the people. The city was founded on a miracle, and the faith of the Zabbaleen is an example of how faith begets faith. They are a people familiar with miracles, but still hungry for a touch of God. When I think of the Zabbaleen, I remember the joy among the garbage; I remember how they welcomed us into their homes; I remember the beauty of their hearts and that they are precious in the Father’s eyes. They live among the garbage and God is restoring their hope for something more. And as their hope is being restored, I pray that their hunger would continue to grow as their eyes shift from God’s hand to His heart.