“We’ll pay off your debt under one condition,” people would tell me when I went to prison.
“What’s the condition?” I asked.
“To appear with Tarek Allam on his show.”
“But Tarek Allam is our relative from Beheira. His whole family is related to my siblings and my children. He’s like family. Can’t it be anyone else but Tarek Allam?!”

I appeared with Tarek Allam in the end. I had to.
The prison warden, I don’t remember his name, told me,
“The 5-6k you’re in for could make you stay in prison forever. Just go on the show. It’s for your freedom. It’s so you don’t spend your life in here.”

“Okay, sir, I’ll do as you say.”

Then I got out…
He filmed me while I was coming out of the prison gate in the white galabiyya.
I hadn’t actually been released yet.
He just took a shot of me coming out and then I went back inside.
I passed through the gate and went back.
I was with a group of women. We were 5 or 6 women.
“Okay, so is this for real or are you just doing it for the camera?”
“I swear you won’t be in there for more than a week,” he said.

They assigned me a bed the day after and I found that I would be released by the end of the week.
They called my name with the released inmates on Friday morning.

When I was released from jail, I was sent to a police station.
I had been arrested because of three unpaid trust receipts, which meant I was tried for three separate cases.
“If it had been only one case, you would have been home already,” people would tell me.
I was held at the police station for 3 days.

None of my family members showed up. None of them wanted to come.
The police station had to follow-up on the cases.
I was released by the 4th night.
I went home, carrying the clothes and stuff I had with me in jail.
I knocked on my family’s door.
I needed to go to the bathroom. I wanted to shower and all that.
My siblings opened the door:
“You’re not welcome here anymore,” they said.
I was only in jail for 7 months. It’s not like I was there for a year or two.
Where was I supposed to go? Where was I going to stay?
None of the neighbors knew where I had been.
But none of them would let me in either for a fresh set of clothes.

All this happened on the 15th of Shabaan.
I tried knocking on a neighbor of mine called Umm Hassan.
God knows, I helped her out a lot in the past.
I tried knocking on another neighbor’s door. She didn’t have any kids. It was just her and her husband.
I asked if I could just spend the night.
I eventually gathered my stuff and went outside. Stood in the street.
I have a sister who lives in Zagazig, but she wouldn’t talk to me, of course.
Because I had been on the Tarek Alaam show with the Misr el-Kheir Association on TV.
So, what was I supposed to do?
I knew this woman who lived at the end of the street.
But it turned out she moved. I asked for her new address. I figured I could spend the night at her place.
They gave me the directions but I wound up getting lost. I couldn’t call her either because I didn’t have her number.

I sat at the bus stop till morning.
I tried to find a mosque that was open, but they were all closed after Fajr (dawn) prayers. They wouldn’t open up again till Dhur (noon) prayers.

I waited till then, then went into a mosque to wash up.
I kept looking for my old friend.
I eventually found her phone number.
“I moved to Bulaq,” she said to me over the phone. “Come to Bulaq and stay with me.”
"I’ve never been to Helwan,” I said.
She told me to take a bus from Giza and get off at Metro Street.
I went and stayed at her place. I got the money I had with me in jail from the post office.
I got food with me, of course, on the way back to my friend’s.
I went back and forth between her place and another friend’s place for fifteen days.
By then, the 500 LE I had - basically all I owned - were almost gone.
Mostly because I bought all the groceries.
Because you can’t just stay at someone’s for free. Even if that someone is your friend.
Anyway, I went to court to press charges against my husband.
My husband had taken my apartment and I was left in the streets.
I don’t know how, but things turned around for me.
My case was handed to the court right away the following day.
At the court, I told the public prosecutor I had a young daughter, Nada, who was a minor and another daughter, Amira. I had custody of both of them.
“And Shaimaa. She’s not my husband’s daughter, though. Her father passed away and had left her with me for forty days”.
When the prosecutor learned that I was in jail because of unpaid trust receipts, he replied with, “So what? Everyone borrows money.”
The prosecutor helped all my paperwork go through.
My husband could end up facing time in jail.
“Either find a place for her to live or get out of the apartment you’re in now,” the prosecutor said to him.
“This is my mother’s apartment,” my husband said.
“Fine. Find her another place then.”
He started looking for a place for me. He sent me a bed and one of those tall chest of drawers that looks like a closet.
He also sent me a bunch of knick knacks.
He got me a room in Nahya.
“I’m not living here,” I said when I saw the room.
There were rats scurrying back and forth over the windowsill.
They eventually found me a two-bedroom apartment in a place called the 6th of October in Bulaq al-Daqrour.
It’s true it was small, but it was in good condition.
My husband made a downpayment for me and sent me several months worth of rent in advance.
“I want my girls back,” I said to him.
I had done my time in jail. It was all behind me now.
I was sent a lawyer from the Misr el-Kheir Association.
He helped me get my girls back and an alimony of 200 LE.
Very little can be done with 200 LE.
I pay 350 LE in rent, but I’m happy with the place.
My apartment is modest. There’s barely any furniture.
It has two beds, a fridge, and kitchen equipment.
Whenever I make a bit of money or someone sends me money, I go and buy something else we need.
I bought a stovetop and oven for 1000 LE.
I bought a fridge afterward.
I started living in my apartment on the 28th of Ramadan.
I got my daughters back after Eid.
Things are going well, and I just married off my eldest daughter, all praise to God.