Evil Is the Water of the Sheikh

I'm back in Cairo after a relaxing two nights in Sharm El-Sheikh (the name of which apparently is an abbreviation of the phrase "evil is the water of the sheikh," coming from a story in Islamic folklore). I'm not really sure how good it is to be back (the traffic on the way back into town was exhausting, and as I write this I can hear the screeches of stray cats fighting in the stairwell), but I still have to say that Sharm is by far one of the stranger places I've been in Egypt. The city is located on the southern tip of the Sinai Peninsula in the Red Sea. The water is impossibly blue and the snorkeling is incredible, but still the beaches weren't what I was used to. There is no public beach, only small private ones. This wasn't a problem, as our hotel gave free vouchers for access to the beach across the road. Yet no one actually laid out on towels on the sand, instead on the thousands of lounge chairs that were available, but I guess this made sense since the sand wasn't fine at all, but a bit like kitty litter. Then there was the sea itself - no waves, and it wasn't deep enough to really swim. People either stood or sat in the water. The unfamiliar beach was not a big deal however; honestly, I was thrilled to be able to relax by some form of water and attempt to tan. The strangest thing was that the city seemed to lack a necessary ingredient of Egypt: Egyptians. The vast majority of the people in Sharm were tourists from Europe and especially Russia. Plus, the city lacks any kind of ancient history or cultural landmarks, but some have been constructed for the benefit of the tourists. Thus, the downtown area seemed to me like an Egypt Epcot, not Egypt itself. True, there was a camel walking around which you could pay to ride, and shop owners sold Nefertiti pendants, miniature pyramids, and scarab beetle beads, but there was no call to prayer, few hijabs and little modest dressing, and many languages other than Arabic being spoken - not like the Egypt I'm familiar with. Even the traffic was shockingly different. Every single time I went to cross the street, cars slowed down and allowed me to pass easily and without honking, something that would be unheard of in Cairo.

It may seem like I'm complaining about Sharm, but in truth I had a wonderful time. Two days of lying in the sun and reading was exactly what I needed before I struggle through a final week in Cairo. Regardless, I couldn't help but notice that Sharm El-Sheikh is about as Egyptian as Pizza Hut is Italian.

Something About September

I think I've said this before, but Egyptians are generally very excited to find out that I'm American (after they verify that I voted for Obama, of course). I literally walk down the streets every day to choruses of "Welcome to Egypt!" And it only gets better when they discover that I speak some Arabic. Even if they think it's hysterical that I talk like a book, they all nod excitedly and say, "Arabia kuwais!" (Good Arabic!) after only a sentence or two from me, and then want to know all about my studies, my work, every other detail of my life (which I generally can't provide in a way they would understand). Today however, I got the weirdest response when I told someone I was American. While I was in the elevator of my apartment building, I started talking to the other men there. After the initial excitement that I could say "salaam walekum," one of them started talking to me very quickly about America. I heard him say something about September, so I figured he was telling me that he was visiting the states in a few months. However, when I asked him to repeat what he'd said, I realized that he was actually talking about September 11, and how I shouldn't blame Islam for what happened. I was amazed that that was the first thing he would say when he saw an American... and maybe not the most chatty topic to bring up in an elevator. Mostly though I was confused as to why he was so urgent to get this point across to me - an American in Egypt. I think it would be obvious that if I (incorrectly) were to blame Islam for September 11, then I wouldn't choose to travel to an Islamic country. Maalesh.

I'm leaving bright and early tomorrow for Sharm Al-Sheikh, a beach on the Sinai peninsula. We'll be there for three days, and I'm looking forward to doing nothing but sleeping and reading and soaking up some sun. For now though, ma salama!

Surprises

So today I was looking over my posts from the past week, and I kind of felt the need to apologize for them being a tad unexciting. At first I thought the lack of entertainment value was due to the fact that nothing that insane happened, but I soon realized that the issue wasn't that Cairo had suddenly become less crazed (somehow I doubt that will ever happen), it's just that nothing here really surprises me anymore. The random people in the street, weaving through cars with huge trays of bread balanced on their heads - typical. The marriage proposals - to be expected. The calls of "Welcome to Egypt!" and "OBAMA!!" that follow me down the street - average. The taxis bedecked with Christmas lights, misspelled bumper stickers, and pastel-colored shag carpets - run of the mill. The hilariously incorrect and inappropriate English t-shirts that Egyptian men wear (ex: "Bite me" with a picture of a hot dog) - common. The complete and utter lack of organization or planning associated with everything - routine. The large number of cats in my creepy stairwell, eating my garbage and shrieking at each other in the middle of the night - ordinary. My roommate talking with shopkeepers, discussing how many camels she could trade me for - totally normal. As my dad would say, "usual, usual, followed by the usual."

As almost boring and run-of-the-mill as all those things seem, today I was truly surprised for the first time in a while, and by a question from one of the girls at Ana El-Masry. This twelve-year-old girl had asked sometime last week if a group of us were all Christian, and I told her that I was Jewish. Today she called me over to ask me a question via one of the staff members who was fluent in English. I knew the question would be mildly awkward from the moment she asked it; even though I didn't understand what she said, the look on the staffer's face was angry and ashamed, and at first he did not want to translate for her. Finally he apologized for having to repeat the question and said, "She wants to know why you're helping us if you're Jewish." I had no idea what to say. This is probably something I should have expected - I know the portrayal of Jews in the Arab media is not positive - but I still didn't have a good response. I ended up asking her why she thought I wouldn't want to help her, and she said something about Jews killing innocent Arabs in Israel. Not wanting to get into the Palestinian-Israeli conflict at all (I had no idea exactly what she'd heard, I didn't want to explain things through a translator, and I was supposed to be somewhere else in the center at that point), I just tried to explain that Jews and Israelis are not the same thing and that Israel is a country that does things for political purposes; its actions aren't driven by a hatred for Muslims. It turned out that I'm the first Jew she'd ever met, and she said that she loved me very much at the end of the conversation, so I guess I've made a good impression. However, I'm still unsure if what I said was right, or if I should have said more on the subject of Israel. I was so surprised at that moment, that I really didn't think my answer through enough. Hopefully my actions in helping her and the other kids in the center speak louder than my words and break down the stereotypes that are ingrained in her mind already.

Approval

This evening we had dinner with the Marie, the founder of Ana El-Masry (I just discovered that the anglicized spelling of that is different than I originally thought... oops), at her family's house in the "country" [read: desert]. Actually, "house" doesn't really describe the situation - palace or estate is somewhat better. This place was incredible. Not only was the house itself gorgeous, but the land was so green you would never have known that outside its walls there was only sand. The dinner was delicious - all cooked by a chef who we saw working as we talked - and the atmosphere was amazingly soothing away from the craziness of the city. Plus her dogs were adorable, although I was less than thrilled when the mastiff slobbered all over my knee. More important than the setting, however, was the discussion. I learned more about Ana El-Masry's origins and got to talk about my idea for the library/game room.

When Marie started working with street kids, her project was merely to go out at night and bring them clothing and food. This developed into organizing sporting events for those she saw most regularly, and finally renting an apartment where they lived with the staff. Now she is a member of a government board that deals with the issue of street kids and is constantly reforming the program and starting new initiatives to help them. It was exciting to hear about the planning and brainstorming behind the center, which I have never picked up on from being there and working directly with the kids. Even more exciting was her reaction to our project (she loved it and suggested ways to help us get started immediately) and that fact that she mentioned the impact we've already had on the place. I know I say this frequently, but it often feels like I'm not making any lasting changes at the center. However, Marie told us that after some reports that we wrote, where many of us mentioned that the children were bored, she organized a way to send some of the children out to take art and music classes. While I knew that some of the older girls and the center had started leaving the center for an art program once a week, I had no idea that our comments were the spark for this development. By the end of the night, I had the distinct impression that Marie was the kind of person who made things happen, and to hear her approval and enthusiasm for my idea made me even more excited to begin work. Inshaallah, tomorrow we will choose a room for the library in the center, and begin making decisions on what furniture we want, so the center can get estimates on cost.

Like a Zombie Movie

As we walked into Ana Al-Misri this afternoon, we were met with a strange scene... emptiness and silence. This is drastically different from the norm, which involves lots of screaming, jumping, biting children grabbing me by the hand and leading me to who knows where. The lack of people made us all a little apprehensive, and we each secretly started thinking that we had walked into a horror film. Within a few seconds, we heard a sound which only added to our fear - a steady drum beat coming from somewhere in the compound. We nervously headed towards it, and soon we heard clapping and that "Ie Ie Ie" sound that Arab women make. While walking up the stairs, I heard one of us say that it was probably dangerous to enter whatever was going on upstairs and kept walking, though I agreed. It turned out to be a birthday party - ostensibly a harmless event, but when it involves masses of insane children packed in a small room with balloons, it can become a pretty risky situation. I was greeted by my six-year-old friend Islam, who grabbed my hand and dragged me into the room. Ten seconds later I was greeted by my other six-year-old friend Imam (the one I'm secretly planning on taking home), who leaped from the table he had been dancing on like a spider monkey and clung to my back. Shortly thereafter, a circle formed and in the middle were two pint-sized dancers (boys of about nine or ten), who engaged in some dance-fighting, which was both adorable and hilarious. From then on the day was a typical one at Ana Al-Misri, including many fights to be broken up, many tears following the popping of all the balloons in sight, and me getting smacked and whacked by many children using whatever weapons they could find (although Islam valiantly defended me multiple times throughout the afternoon). I know I give that place a lot of flack, considering children try to wound me and each other on a daily basis, but honestly I will miss all of them very much, and I'm starting to become concerned over how to tell these six-year-olds in broken 'Amaia that I might never see them again (especially since they ask when I'm coming back every day).

Later in the night, a group of us headed out to Egypt's best and only American-style diner in Maadi. I thought that my nostalgia for Cairo had started to kick in, and that I would want to eat nothing but ful and tamaya for the next two weeks, but when I heard that there was a place nearby that served burgers and pancakes, I couldn't help but go and stuff my face. The place had actually been written up as having the country's/continent's/world's best burger (the story changes depending on who you talk to in Egypt, and I'm not sure of the truth since I haven't seen the article myself), and it was absolutely delicious. If only they had had some of the cherry pie advertised on the menu... I had to make due with cheesecake. Guess I'll have to wait to fill my pie craving when I'm home on the 30th.

Productivity? What?

Shocking turn of events today - I actually felt useful at my job at Ana Al-Misri. I don't mean to disparage what I've been doing over the past 6 weeks; I've formed strong relationships with some of the kids and given them some of the attention they all crave and need. Yet I've accomplished nothing that I can point to in three, six, or twelve months and say, "I did ________ to help street kids in Cairo." At least, until this morning's planning session. The seven of us who work at Ana Al-Misri have formulated a plan to start a game room and library for the kids, which would be implemented by the students on our program next summer. We're hoping that this will not only give the Ana Al-Misri kids something to do (their toys and games are very limited at this point; often I see kids playing jacks with pebbles) and instill in them a sense of responsibility, but also give future participants on our program a more concrete project to work on. We spent our morning at the center working out the logistics of our proposal, from a timeline to mission statement to required materials, and the accomplishment we all felt was incredibly uplifting. I'm very excited to get to work on the initial phases of the project, mainly writing grants and collecting games and CDs through various organizations at home, and I hope that this will be a success and we can have a lasting impact on the center (inshaallah).

The only other truly notable part of my day was the insane taxi ride I took home from a movie. The drive started off oddly: just after we'd gotten in the cab, someone in another car offered the driver a 50 pound note to do... something? But the driver replied, "No, I'm driving Americans." (We weren't really sure what that was about.) Then came the drive itself; I don't think I've ever been more scared for my life. He was speeding and swerving and honking, yelling at other taxi drivers who then flicked him off. At one point, he stopped the cab on the side of highway, saying he needed to get water. He retrieved either water or oil from the trunk, opened the hood, and poured some in, then got back in and started us up again. At this point, I was pretty sure that the cab was going to burst into flames within the next few minutes. We continued to zoom in and out of traffic, at one point passing a car bedecked with blinking Christmas lights, and finally arrived back at our apartment, in about half the time the drive should have taken. I was definitely happy to be out of a moving vehicle and ready to climb into bed. Masa al-khair!

Wedding Talk

A few days ago, I wrote about the marriage obsession of people in Egypt, and I mentioned that the topic hadn't come up with my English class. I spoke too soon. Today we talked about it not because they were curious about my marital status, but because one of them is getting married! One of our oldest students, a nineteen-year-old Eritrean girl, hasn't been in class for the past week (we were told that she had a tooth ache). Even at the beginning of class today, as we were waiting for everyone to arrive so we could leave for our faluka ride outing, another student reaffirmed that she was too sick to come to class. Later though, while we sailed on the Nile, the truth came out - she's been in the process of becoming engaged. The best part of this whole thing: my co-teacher and I are invited to the wedding! However, there is the typically crazy Egyptian twist... the date for the wedding is not yet set, though apparently there is a possibility that it will be within the next two weeks. Inshaallah, I'll still be in Cairo to attend this wedding, though at this point I have nothing to wear, and I'm not even sure what is the correct attire.

Contrasted to this future, another of my students, a sixteen-year-old Eritrean girl, told me today that she's interested in studying at Duke in the future. She talked to me for most of the walk to the faluka ride, because she's trying to improve her English so one day (inshaallah) she can study in the US. It's interesting that these two similar girls - both from the same culture and about the same age, and both very bright - are seeking two vastly different paths. One is marrying an Eritrean man who lives in Cairo and getting ready to settle down it seems, and one is dreaming of studying in a far away country. That's not to say that the future bride doesn't hope to leave Cairo (I don't think any of my students are particularly happy with their lives here), but the dichotomy in their plans is fascinating. I also don't think that one choice is necessarily better than the other; it's merely different. When I discussed this with my co-teacher, she said that timing played a huge role in these decisions, and our presence in the lives of our younger student made an impact on her dreams. Although I guess that's obvious (why else would she have heard about Duke?), it was certainly humbling to have evidence of the impact we've made on this girl and also touching to hear that they want us to be a part of their family's celebration. I'll keep you updated on the wedding date, but for now I really need to sleep. Masa el-khair!