Scenario.  A child is born in Egypt, but before he can say or learn or do anything with his ancient culture, he is swept away to another, more liberal and less cultured society; say France, England or America; during the height of the Middle East Brain Drain.  It is here that he lives out his adolescence until he becomes a man, or however close to manhood one can become without being a whole.  Now this man decides to go back from whence he came, turning what should've been a vacation to the motherland into what ended up for good. He found that he was at a loss for words when encountered with the natives of his new land; whether it be America, or China, or Russia; when asked if his people still rode camels, or lived in the Pyramids, or had a Pharaonic monarchy in place enslaving the tourists with bread soaked in beer. He found that what he knew was what they knew, which was taught to them via a textbook written by intellectuals and conservatives who never actually went to his country. But he knew one thing, at least he knew his geography and knew where his country was, knew how to get back and look for his roots.

After years of living in this alien, diverse country, he has come to terms with being referred to as 'The Egyptian', gaining a complete pride for a country he has never known through much more than the pictures on a postcard and the words of a book, but pride nonetheless.  Now it is time for him to move back, learn about his culture, understand his roots, experience his first cultural shock, and get food poisoning a couple of times. But through lack of knowledge and to his own surprise, his countrymen called him 'The Foreigner' from the moment he steps off the plane.  Although he learned about his country through textbooks and Hollywood, that never meant that he knew his country beneath the surface, the inner workings of his culture and people.  Sure, he knows a few words in his native tongue, and he knows some of the great things his country had to offer, but he doesn’t know his country.  Rootlessness is his sense of unacceptance, when he was snatched away from his roots and replanted somewhere else, he lost the chance to be from either culture.  Once his roots were severed, like a tree, he could not be expected to grow in another place, and he could not be expected to go back to its roots and continue growing either.  You can not be expected to thrive in a place you are unfamiliar with, and once you familiarize yourself with this place, and take its customs as your own, you can not be expected to go back to your roots and feel more then a little overwhelmed by the difference.

But after planting himself for years, he realizes that no matter where he went or lived, he still has the characteristics of an Egyptian. His life, for one, is an organized mess, much like the bustle of his home city of Cairo; day in and out, tasks are accomplished, but everyone is still perplexed as to how. Ridiculous situations conceive only even more ludicrously exaggerated stories, each one more crass than the last. Early morning trenchcoat services, mid-afternoon afterparties, late night cruises; living like royalty on a beggar's salary. He realizes that his edge is that he's already stereotyped these types of people, but now they all are part of the same race and are seperated only by their metaphysical characteristics. Another advantage would be the diverse superpower melting pot; it could be Germany, or America, or Australia; which is represented on his passport, that pamphlet that gives him an undeserved immunity and overprivileged power over his surroundings, not to mention a definitely uncharacteristic ego complex over his countrymates. In Egypt, there are your everyday Egyptian stereotypes, and tourists, and he carries the characteristics of an Egyptian with the accent of a tourist and the passport of a dignitary.