A Farm, a Campfire, and 8,000 Phone Contacts

“Overachieving is a North American concept,” she told us.

Many of us recognized ourselves in that observation. We are accustomed to packed schedules, ambitious goals, and the satisfaction of checking items off a list. Maryanne described arriving in Egypt after years of living with a mile-long to-do list in the U.S. Here, she said, she was sometimes lucky to accomplish one thing in a day.

She encouraged us to pay attention, give things time, and let understanding develop. She described keeping observations in the the back of her mind, “behind the mayo,” like the accumulation of things that collect in the fridge. While an encounter or detail might seem unimportant at first, it suddenly becomes meaningful months or years later and you just need to dig it back out.

Another piece of advice was even more concise: “Collect people.”

Maryanne estimates that she has around 8,000 contacts in her phone and spends hours each day online checking in with people and maintaining those connections. Her relationships have grown through years of curiosity and conversation. When she wanted to learn about agriculture in Egypt, she rode through the countryside and stopped to talk with farmers and veterinarians. She asked about their crops, their growing conditions, animal nutrition and the choices they made. Those conversations taught her things she could not have learned by looking at a field from the road.

Maryanne’s advice to ask basic questions, listen carefully, and stay curious was a familiar reminder. Putting it into practice takes intention. It means setting aside our assumptions long enough to hear how someone else sees the world, even when we think we already understand the subject.

It is easy to collect experiences while traveling. We visit landmarks, try unfamiliar foods, take photographs, and move on to the next stop. Collecting people asks more of us. It means giving someone our attention, making time to understand their story, and staying connected after the initial encounter. Relationships need tending, and our time and attention are finite. We can’t maintain every connection we make. We have to choose where to invest ourselves, and those choices mean deciding which relationships we will keep making room for in our lives.

At Al Sorat, we could see how Maryanne’s approach to people shaped the farm itself. The farm gives a sense of peace and space to those who come. From encountering animals to playing in open space, it gives visitors the kind of ordinary freedom that can be difficult to find in a crowded city.

Our later conversations with Goda, our guide, added another perspective. He grew up in a rural farming family with eight children, and his family made significant sacrifices to give him an education and the chance for better opportunities. He described public classrooms with around 80 students, sometimes as many as 120, and the strain private tutoring can place on family finances.

It would be easy to leave Al Sorat inspired by Maryanne’s resourcefulness and determination, then wonder why more people don’t simply do what she has done. Goda’s story reminded us that people work within very different circumstances, shaped by the opportunities and constraints around them. Understanding a place means making room for those differences and resisting the urge to turn one person’s success into a simple prescription for everyone else. The stories we hear from one person offer a perspective, not a complete picture of a country or its people.

At Al Sorat, we also spent time with Nawaya Women, an organization working alongside rural communities to build practical skills, preserve food traditions, and create opportunities through activities such as cooking, catering, and welcoming visitors. The women’s growing confidence and independence stood out as they coached us through a hands-on cooking experience.