On a table in Nermien Riad's office is a hard, round nut, about the size of a fist. It is the fruit of the doum palm, a tree native to North Africa. The tree takes years to grow and mature, and those who plant it are not likely to see or enjoy the literal fruit of their labour, which is a popular treat – but they plant it anyway.
That's how she views the role of Coptic Orphans, a charity she founded almost 40 years ago.
Born in Egypt, Ms Riad emigrated to the US with her family when she was seven years old. During a visit to her home country, she witnessed crippling poverty and its effect on children.
"In Egypt, you're considered an orphan if you've lost either a father or a mother," she tells The National, explaining that the loss of a father in particular often plunges a family further into poverty.
After the loss of a parent in impoverished areas of Egypt, girls are frequently married off to ease the family's financial burden and boys take on dangerous jobs to bring in money. Others are sent to orphanages. Many poor children with both parents still living are sent to orphanages because there is not enough food.
"So it's a double-whammy of not only poverty, but also separation from your family," Ms Riad says.
On her return home, she pooled money with friends, eventually raising enough to meet the basic needs of 45 girls living in an orphanage. Interest in the project among the large Coptic diaspora grew, and Ms Riad decided to found Coptic Orphans.
The charity supports orphaned children and also helps those from poor families who might otherwise have been sent to an orphanage to remain at home. Through donor sponsorships, children are given access to education, which Coptic Orphans says helps to lift them and their families out of poverty.
The charity, which has offices in Washington, Toronto, Sydney, London and Cairo, has helped more than 86,000 children in about 900 towns and villages in Egypt so far.
'Fear and distrust'
While the organisation focuses most of its attention on Coptic children, it is also working to build bridges between Christian and Muslim communities in Egypt, where adherents of the two faiths have historically had a tense relationship.
"There's so much fear and distrust," Ms Riad says. "The Christians live on one side, the Muslims live on the other – never do they interact, never do they come together. And when there's that polarisation, it's very easy to believe anything about 'the other'."
While the Egyptian constitution grants all citizens equal rights, regardless of religion, the Coptic community has reported discrimination and persecution at the local level, from hate speech and vandalism, to physical violence and killings. They have also become a major target for ISIS: in 2015, 20 Coptic men and one Ghanaian who had travelled to Libya in search of employment were beheaded by members of the extremist group, and bombings at churches in the cities of Tanta and Alexandria two years later killed more than 40 people.
"We wanted to go out to the entire community, and we had to have a totally different model to be able to help everyone in the community," Ms Riad says. "And this is where we began focusing on the girl child."
The two-year Valuable Girl programme pairs a younger girl with an older girl, a Christian with a Muslim. The older girl acts as a "big sister" to the younger girl, helping her with her studies and mentoring her. As an incentive, the older girl receives a small stipend.
Not only does the programme create a bond between the two girls, it also creates a bond between families.
Ms Riad highlights the story of a young Coptic girl and her older Muslim mentor. On meeting her younger friend's family in the street one day, the Muslim girl introduced herself to the father.
"'Hello, Uncle'," Ms Riad recounts the Muslim girl as saying. "And he goes, 'Uncle? Call me Baba. Call me Dad. You're her sister'."
She says the Valuable Girl programme, which has had more than 19,000 participants, has also helped to decrease inter-community violence. After the murder of a Muslim by a Christian in a village in the Qena region about four years ago, the Coptic community was expecting a mass reprisal. Amid the tension, the Coptic co-ordinator told the Muslim co-ordinator not to bring the girls to the programme at the local community centre in the Christian part of the village, as it wasn't safe.
The Muslim co-ordinator responded: "If we stop now, then they have won. We won't allow this to happen." Ms Riad says the Muslim co-ordinator went from house to house, convincing families in her community not to take collective vengeance.
"'If you want to take revenge from the family that killed the man, that's your prerogative, but all the other families have nothing to do with this. We're not going to be spiralling into violence'," she recounts the co-ordinator as saying.
As it continues to attempt to sow seeds of peace, the charity invites Coptic youths from around the world to visit Egypt and volunteer in poor areas.
"The young people coming from the United States, Canada, Australia, are transformed by the simplicity, by the love, by the humanity that they find in these small villages," Ms Riad says.
The young volunteers teach English to children in the charity's programmes as they learn about their Coptic and Egyptian heritage.
And during their stay, they plant doum palms.
