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!

The Things I'll Miss the Most

Today was the third to last Tuesday of our trip. As Tuesday is the most stressful day of the week for us here - homework due and homework to be done, a busy day behind us with work at both NGOs, plus lesson planning for today and tomorrow - I've been counting down the weeks until I get a full night's sleep back in the U.S. by Tuesdays, and only two remain. That totals up to 16 full days in Egypt, three of which will be spent at a beach called Sharm Al-Sheikh, a completely different atmosphere from Cairo. Additionally, we learned the Arabic for "I miss (something)" in class today: "aftaqad." It's about time to let the nostalgia begin, and I've come up with a list of the things I will miss the most about Egypt.

1. My Students - they are honestly a wonderful class. They are always so excited to learn, even if my lesson plans aren't stellar, and they bring the best questions to class (example: what does "BFF" mean?). Yesterday, my co-teacher and I were talking about our plans for when we get home, and our most talented and outgoing student kept asking us, "So you're leaving on July 30? ... I'll miss you!" Luckily we're facebook friends now, and hopefully we'll be able to stay in touch, but it is sad to think that I may never see her (or any of the others) again. I have no idea when I'll be back in Egypt or if she'll ever come to America, but I know that if our paths cross again (inshaallah) I'll make every effort to reconnect with her.

2. Teen Shoqi - in English, cactus fruit. I never thought this was something I would enjoy, and the first time I tried it, I was repulsed by the number of seeds, but it is actually incredibly delicious. I think the taste and texture are similar to a watermelon, and though there are a LOT of seeds, but as long as you don't chomp down on it, they really don't bother you. They're sold by men with wheelbarrows in the streets for 1 guinea each, and you can't pick it up yourself because of the needles in the skin. Instead, the seller peels it for you, and you pick the skinless fruit out yourself. I pass the same guy every day after Arabic class, and it's now become our tradition to each get one on the way to pick up sandwiches.

3. Juice - It just isn't cool to drink juice in the U.S. after age 10 (not like that ever stopped me), plus the juice just isn't that good. In Egypt, any place you go, you can get freshly squeezed juice of any type, and everyone orders it. When I went to a cafe with my English students, even the teenage boys trying to look cool ordered mango juice... which would never happen at home. I still need to try a few more types, including sobea (coconut juice), but it won't be a problem, because instead of Starbucks every block, Cairo has juice stands.

4. Twenty Cent Sandwiches - As I've said before, ful and tamaya sandwiches are a staple in the Egyptian diet, and I can't imagine going back to the U.S. and paying more than 10 times as much for something that won't be nearly as filling. I've decided that until I leave, I'm going to try a new kind of sandwich everyday from my favorite shop (never mind that I don't really understand the menu on the wall) ... hopefully I don't get anything too strange.

5. Faluka Rides - sailing on the Nile in the middle of the night is an irreplaceable experience. First of all, you're on the Nile, a river I've been reading about since first grade, but also, it's an incredibly calming escape from the rush of Cairo. In the dark on a faluka ride, watching the reflections of the lighted buildings on the water, it seems like time stands still (although that might be because the boatman spends 10 minutes at a time standing still in the middle of the river).

6. "Maalesh" - "Maalesh" means "whatever," but in the nicest sense of the word, and this idea encapsulates the mentality of the Egyptian people. Although sometimes this comes off negatively (it definitely doesn't seem nice when someone bumps into you and says "whatever" instead of "I'm sorry"), there is a carefree, laughing attitude about life that is difficult to come by in the West. While I'll miss this Hakuna Matata type vibe, I won't miss the chaos that it's born from, which at times makes me want to bang my head against the wall.

As I think I've told every single person from home that I've communicated with this summer, Cairo is a crazy, crazy place. I'm looking forward to having some order restored when I return to America, land of the free and home of people who obey traffic laws, but from all the insanity of the Egyptian capital have come some true gems, which will always have a place in my heart.

You Mean You Don't Dream About Your Husband?

Women in Egypt have an obsession with marriage. At least, that's what I've witnessed during my interactions with teachers and random passers-by over the last six weeks. I've already mentioned how unknown women in the street have prayed for me to find a good husband, and other girls from my program have been asked by their students if they were married (luckily the subject has not come up in my class). However, the most marriage-crazed Egyptian I know by far is my teacher at Arab Academy. Though she is sweet and funny, I don't think a single class has gone by without some mention of either the m- or h-word. The other students and I (five girls in total) first noticed her heavy interest in matrimony one day when we were discussing our dreams in class. We said fairly random things (limited by our vocabulary) - I dream about visiting Brazil, I dream about becoming a doctor, etc, and she was shocked that none of us mentioned our future marriages. Then came a few other subtle hints: we learned the word for "bride" and when one of us mispronounced it she laughed and reminded us not to forget such an important word; we were talking about words for different ages (youth versus man versus child, etc), and she was careful to point out the distinction between young woman and spinster, and assured us all that we were in the "young woman" category.

Today, however, was the candied flowers and statuette on the wedding cake, as our reading for the week (from a text book which the teacher did not even choose) was about marriage. The moment she walked into the room, she told us that she was so excited to discuss it with us, beaming the whole time. The text itself was about a family arguing over whether the youngest girl should be allowed to marry a boy that was not as wealthy as her and didn't have as high of an education. The majority of the students agreed that she should be allowed to marry for love, and that the grandmother who argued otherwise in the story was too controlling. For once, I wasn't sure if our opinions shocked and horrified our teacher or touched her more sensitive side. Often she seems scandalized by how liberal our opinions are and our lack of interest in traditional values like marriage (for example we watched the first 30 minutes of the teen comedy "10 Things I Hate About You," and she could not believe that the portrayal of some aspects of American high schools was accurate). I hope that today her sensitive side won out, and our support of true love made her realize that we as Western girls have some sense of femininity.

Mummies and Scarabs and Ankhs... Oh My!

This morning I headed to the Egyptian Museum, looking forward to seeing mummies and sarcophaguses and hieroglyphics. I saw all of those things and more; the difficult part was knowing exactly what I was looking at. I heard someone in the museum say that it wasn't just a museum full of Egyptian artifacts, it was an Egyptian museum - which is completely true. The place lacks any sort of organization or explanation. Most of the cards in the display cases are in handwritten Arabic or typed on a typewriter, when they're even there. In some cases, the cards identify an item that is no longer in the display. Of the exhibits, only two were truly organized and with some explanatory aids - the room of artifacts from King Tut's tomb and the royal mummy room. Tut's old things were amazing, especially the mask in which he was buried. This mask is a prominent symbol of ancient Egypt which I've seen through my entire life, and it was incredible to see it in person. The mummies were interesting, if really creepy. I couldn't get the idea that these were real bodies out of my head. Even creepier, I'm nearly positive some of the coffins in the main part of the museum still contain mummies - according to one card I read, a particular mummy was "within," which I think means in the case in front of me?

After the Egyptian museum, we went to Al-Azhar Park with the school that the majority of students in my program attend (I go to a different one, but was still invited). The trip was fun, except for some awkwardly nontraditional games we played for a while (seriously, where was duck-duck-goose). These games involved me getting bit by another student... again. I don't understand why I attract so much biting here: either from kids or mosquitoes or other students... it's ridiculous.

At night I went on yet another faluka ride, which was fun as always, and we met up with some friends we have who are interning at the U.S. Embassy. Talking to them was really interesting, and being able to share our stories truly made me appreciate how much I've experienced and grown in Cairo. It didn't seem like much until I had the opportunity today to talk to my peers, who haven't been in Cairo for as long and have a lifestyle that is somewhere between Egypt and America, and I realized how oddly comfortable I've become here. For example, all three of them seemed hesitant when I mentioned street food, which is what I eat at least once a day here. All in all a phenomenal day, but I'm exhausted and I have another test tomorrow.. yikes! Ma salaama!

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

Tonight our group went on an adventure to CityStars, a mall in Cairo. Actually, mall is an understatement - this place is a palace of consumerism. It truly put Mall of America to shame. It's at least 6 stories tall, with 2 movie theaters, an arcade and bowling alley, a roller coaster, and tons upon tons of stores... and they may still be expanding. Not having been to any place this fancy-schmancy and Western in a while, I was truly overwhelmed, and for the first time in a while I had an urge to really shop. Luckily for my wallet, our plan was to see Toy Story 3 and eat dinner, so I really didn't have any time to try on clothes. The theater was gorgeous (like the rest of the mall), but we discovered that one part about it was truly typical of Egyptian disorganization. We bought tickets for our movie, which were more expensive because it was in 3D, and then went to get dinner. When we returned later and entered the theater, we discovered that you had to buy your own 3D glasses at the front, which the theater employee hadn't told us. So we went back (fighting against the hordes of people trying to enter the theater along the way), bought our glasses (which I now have for all future 3D viewing experiences), and re-entered the theater. The movie was hysterical, but at one point the toys are played with by toddlers in a nursery who attack, hit, bit, and otherwise traumatize the toys... all we could think of was our work at Ana al-Misri. I've never felt more empathetic towards an animated piece of plastic.

Another oddity about the mall was that it was filled with these propaganda-ish signs, advertising the "new Egypt" and the "updated exotic" ... aka CityStars. Honestly, I've never felt less like I was in the Middle East than today (except maybe on the 4th of July). My view of Egypt is hot and dusty and crowded and crazy, full of people smoking and cars honking wildly, not this overly pristine smoke-free castle. In addition, the people I've met in Cairo (my students and the kids at Ana al-Misri), were nothing like the people pictured in these ads, who actually looked white. Not to mention that some of the clothes I looked at in a store were priced in Euros. Overall the experience was interesting and fun, but it was a bit of a shock to see things priced by western standards again. As much as I enjoyed tonight, it didn't feel like being in Egypt, and I think I prefer last night's outing - a faluka ride on the Nile with music (ranging from the popular, Amr Diab's hit "Habibi Ya Noor el-Ain," to the classic, "A Whole New World," to the ragingly politically incorrect, "Arab Money"). Much cheaper, much chiller, and much more genuine.

A Smack of Good Humor

The last week has certainly been a struggle - starting from witnessing discrimination against my students to being locked in the nursery with manic 6-year-olds. Just as I was about to sink into my frustrations, Cairo smacked the laughter back into me. Literally. As I was walking along one of the many narrow and crowded one-way streets in Garden City, I started thinking about how much I hated walking in the same direction as traffic, because it's impossible to see what's coming. A truck drove past me and SMACK - I was hit in the back of the head with some kind of dry grass/stalk thing that was sticking out of the sides of the bed. That whole moment was so typically Egyptian, so crazy and unpredictable, but that I somehow should have seen coming, that I couldn't help but burst out laughing. The two other girls I was with, who had also been whacked by the the plant, were just as hysterical as I was, and when the driver stuck his head out of the window to apologize, all we could say was "maalesh."

"Maalesh" is one of the typically Egyptian phrases that defines life here in Cairo. It means something like "whatever," but in the most positive sense of the word. When things go wrong in Cairo (which happens everyday), it's necessary to roll with the punches, adapt, and otherwise move on and not get upset - this is the idea of "maalesh." When bus drivers decide to go the wrong way down a one way street: maalesh. When the people who run your school decide not to show up and unlock the classroom: maalesh. When random plants sticking out of a moving vehicle hit you in the head: maalesh. And when small street boys run up to you and incessantly shout "Ashrub! Ashrub! Ashrub!" (I drink! I drink! I drink!) so that you have no choice but to give them your water: maalesh. (That also happened to me today. As much as I was annoyed to be without it for the rest of the day, it isn't an issue for me to buy another bottle, and every street kid I see now makes me think of the kids at Ana Al-Misri... and my heart melts).

The other critical phrase in Egypt is "in sha Allah," meaning "God willing." When I first came to Cairo, I thought in sha Allah was an easy way to escape commitments you don't want to go through with or invitations you don't want to outwardly decline. In a society as religious as Egypt, who can argue with an answer like, "yes - if God wills it"? The reality though is that for anything to go according to plan in this city, it takes an act of God. For example, the class I taught today was on nutrition, and since we introduced so many complicated ideas, we really needed our translator for the first time this summer. Of course, today was the one day that he was too sick to come to class. I guess while my small scale frustrations in previous weeks blew over quickly, sometimes things pile up, and everything and everyone seems to be conspiring against you. What you have to do to survive in Cairo is say "maalesh," laugh it off, and have a little faith.

Even the Cute Ones Can Be Monsters

Our professor told us at the start of the trip that the third week of our program was always the most exhausting and disheartening. I'm fairly certain he was wrong; this week has been the most difficult by far. Today's struggle centered around Ana Al-Misri. Organizationally, things there have been worse than ever. We still don't have a specific project or schedule worked out with their administration, and our primary contact has been M.I.A. after her driver's license was revoked last week (I think she got into a car accident with a cop?). Anyway, showing up at the building is always a little awkward now, since there often aren't any staff in sight; instead we just wander around til we find kids or someone who speaks English, and then we get started. The past few days, only the youngest kids (ages 2 - 9) have been at the center, so our group to entertain is much smaller. The last time, I had befriended a new kid, and he was very excited to see me when we walked in. For the first hour and a half of the morning, he was grabbing my hand and dragging me around the room to play at the different stations. (On a side note, there was a group of 6-year-old boys having a tea party for a while and playing with baby dolls... so not what I'm used to). Everything was great with my new friend (whose name I don't actually remember - probably Mohammed/Ahmed/Abdullah) until snack time, when he continually lifted one end of the table the kids were eating at so that the drinks almost spilled. I guess this wasn't that bad a thing to do, but a large part of the program at Ana Al-Misri is adjusting from life on the streets (e.g. always wearing shoes, not snatching food from each other, etc)... so tipping over tables where people are eating isn't really acceptable. I told him to stop, that it was not good behavior, etc, all to no avail. Finally I took his hands and held them until he said he was sorry. This totally demoralized him, and he looked sulky and wouldn't talk to me for about half an hour. In the meanwhile, he hadn't eaten his snack, so the others all tried to pounce on him and take it, and I ended up getting pulled to the ground (yes, by 6-year-olds - to be fair there were a lot of them) in the middle of trying to break up all the fights that ensued. Then came my efforts to make up with my friend: at first he wouldn't even listen to me, and once he did we ran into language barrier issues. Eventually I said, "I don't understand because I don't know a lot of Arabic words. I'm sorry. Are we friends again?" Not my most effective disciplinary tactic, but I was getting desperate. A lot of the really cute ones there don't even look ashamed or upset when you scold them. They just laugh adorably... and what else can I do but let them go when I barely speak their language? Once all the animosity and hurt feelings were gone, the whole group went up to the TV room, which always starts off wild (too many crazy kids in too small a space) but eventually results in nap time. The kids were going crazy as usual, tackling each other and jumping on me (all standard), but at one point this resulted in a dog pile on my lap. One kid bit me (again) and another started joking that I was a toilet that he was sitting on. At the same time, I happened to glance over toward the window, through which one of the other students from my program was climbing into the room - the door was jammed. I came pretty close to freaking out; there was no way I was going to stay trapped in this room with these adorable little monsters biting and pretending to poop on me until a locksmith drove out into the middle of the desert to set me free. However, my friend, noticing I was actually angry, said, "Miss, chalos (meaning "enough"), and they all calmed down. They started to fall asleep slowly, a few with their heads in my lap, and half an hour later I left them napping on the rug (the door was mercifully unjammed by one of the staff). As usual for Egypt, the end of the experience was oddly rewarding, but I wish there weren't so many bites along the way. Luckily I won't return to Ana Al-Misri until Saturday, and in sha Allah, (God willing) by then my attitude and their organizational skills will have improved slightly. Ma salama!

Bud Light and A1 Steak Sauce

Fourth of July in Cairo. I never really thought Independence Day this year would be terribly patriotic, after all there isn't really barbecue sauce in Egypt (actually their version of BBQ flavored chips is kabob... gross). However, today fulfilled my craving for Americana and then some. We all went to a house in Maadi called the American Club, and it was like stepping out of Cairo and into the American suburbs. The American Club had a pool and a playground, plus a buffet dinner, carnival games, an ice cream stand, and a DJ. As we got in line for dinner (hot dogs, burgers, ribs... the works), we saw that the table we passed was set with bottles of Bud Light and A1 Steak Sauce. We were really home. Of course with all the things we missed from America (freeze pops, pork, Tom Petty, grassy lawns), there were some stereotypes so American that they were nearly painful. Example: one of the guys sitting at a table near us had a poorly drawn tattoo of his son on his arm, which was very visible beneath his cut-off tee. Not only was his son's name (Tanner) tattooed underneath the picture, but Tanner was pictured sporting a mullet. Seriously, how redneck can you get? And what is this man doing in Cairo??

As much as we enjoyed the American aspects of the day - soaking up the sun and chlorinated water and eating far too much mayonnaise in our potato salad and cole slaw - there were a few typically Egyptian quirks about the place. For one, we had spotted a moon bounce when we came in and were all extremely excited. However, said moon bounce turned out just to be an inflatable exterior; inside was a popcorn machine and cotton candy maker... cool but not as bouncy and wonderful as what we'd hoped for. The lifeguard at the pool was also Egyptian and typically lacking in political correctness. At one point an Asian boy walked by us at the pool, and the lifeguard commented, "Samurai!" All in all, this Fourth of July was fantastically American (considering we were in Cairo), and I even got a cherry coke. If only there had been fireworks (apparently not legal in Cairo) and apple pie.

Whirling Dervishes

Tonight, after a long day of class and work, I went to a demonstration of the dancing of the whirling dervishes. I knew that whirling dervishes were a Sufi (Islamic mystic) dance ritual and that, similar to meditation, it was a way for the soul to become united with God. I also knew that the dance had to do with spinning (hence the name whirling). So I figured that going to this show would be a spiritual, meditative, and relaxing experience... I was wrong.

The dance itself is a way to attain this out of body state, and it's just what you would imagine when you hear the phrase "whirling dervish" - a guy spinning around unstoppably until he becomes so dizzy that he feels separated from his body. I knew all this going in, but I somehow still was not prepared for what I was about to witness. During the first part of the performance, one dancer literally spun around for 40 minutes without stopping. He was wearing many multicolored skirts which flared up and around as he spun, and there were other dancers moving in a circle in the opposite direction from which he was spinning. I was dizzy from just looking at him. Literally I had to put my head down and close my eyes for a few seconds, which was difficult because the whole scene was so entrancing that I couldn't look away. The spinning dancers did a number of tricks, including removing these large oversized skirts they wore as they spun and flying them above their heads. The experience was very interesting, and the dance obviously takes a lot of practice and skill, but the show was not what I'd call 'pleasant.' First of all, I was a tad sick to my stomach from watching all the spinning (I know that sounds kind of lame and weak, but this was unlike any dizzying demonstration I'd ever seen), plus the sound of the horns that accompanied the whirlers was not to my musical taste - it sounded kind of like really screechy bagpipes.

At Last

Over the past month, every single Egyptian I've chatted with in the streets has asked me one question: "Have you seen the pyramids?" My answer: "Well I drive by them on my way to work..." until today. This morning we finally made our obligatory visit, for once not caring that we all looked like tourists (though we by far weren't the most obnoxiously obvious ones there - we actually saw one woman wearing a pink and white pharonic headdress). There isn't really much to do at the pyramids except look at them and take pictures and think, "Omg. These are the pyramids," but we all had a great time doing that all morning. After we took pictures at the base of the two biggest ones and climbed a little ways up (to take more pictures), we headed up a sand dune where there's an amazing panoramic view... and we took more pictures. Then came the camel ride. I've actually ridden a camel before, but the sensation is kind of weird, so I wasn't used to it. Probably the strangest thing is the standing up part - a camel's legs are long and it straightens its back knees first, so you go from sitting straight up to pitching 60 degrees forward and then straightening again. We rode down the dune, all the while taking more pictures of ourselves on camels with the pyramids in the background. Finally, we traveled over to the last pyramid and the sphinx (by bus, not camel) to take even more pictures. Here instead of taking pictures ourselves, we were accosted by small Egyptian children who helped us take pictures. I have to say this was really annoying at first, and I freaked out when one kid took my friend's camera out of my hand to help, but they were amazingly skilled at setting up the kind of cheesy/touristy pictures that are appropriate to take by the sphinx (e.g. kissing the sphinx, petting the sphinx, putting your sunglasses on the sphinx). By 1 o'clock, we were all exhausted (that much smiling really takes it out of you), plus we'd been standing in the sun in the middle of the desert all morning, so we went back to our apartment to relax.

Later in the afternoon, we headed out to shop (not in touristy places, but in normal Egyptian book and clothing stores). Though I didn't by any clothes, going into the store was an adventure in and of itself - people were ridiculously pushy, and the sales lady who was helping us got in an argument with some other people about a fitting room at one point. All in all, I was way to overwhelmed to try anything on. Besides, almost everything in Egyptian is bedazzled with rhinestones or beads - not really my thing. I did make one quality purchase however - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in Arabic (aka Harry Botter wa Hajr al-Philosof). I'm pretty excited to start reading, though I'm not sure how much success I'll have.

Coloring in the Lines

I think an overarching theme from my posts so far is that for every frustration in Cairo, there is an absurdity to make me laugh. Yesterday, this was not the case. Yesterday, I found myself furious and disgusted for the first time since I landed in Egypt. Last night, I went to see a movie with my English class as our weekly outing. The film was called "Limby 8 Giga," and as it was all in rapid Egyptian Arabic, I understood little to none of the dialogue - though at one point at the beginning of the film they had a conversation about 20 seconds about lentils (we learned the word for lentil in my Arabic class). Anyway my anger and disgust certainly weren't rooted in the lentil discussion or anything from the film itself, but rather from the attitudes of people around us and their treatment of our group. At the moment we arrived at the theater, we were forced into chairs and told that we had to order some food, and all that we wanted was apparently not a high enough fee. The waitress then hovered around looking menacing as we figured out what to order. This alone wouldn't have made me angry; I think it's just a part of the culture that I'm not used to. What started to get under my skin was the way the waitress literally reached onto the top of my co-teacher's purse to retrieve the 30 guinea we'd put aside to pay, rather than wait for it to be handed to her. As obnoxious as this was, I had yet to pick up on the situation as discrimination; I just thought it was rudeness. Then we were directed to the theater and were told to sit halfway back on the upper balcony, despite the fact that we were the first ones in the theater. Finally, the situation hit me - this was happening because we were with a large group of refugees - and I was furious. I wanted nothing more than to argue and have things set right. My co-teacher and I were discussing the situation when one of our students came over and told us that it was fine, they were happy to sit here. It's not that these kids have an ingrained sense of inferiority; they know that this behavior is unjust, but choose to act with patience in the face of a situation they cannot change rather than cause a fuss. We ended up quietly sitting in those seats, and by the time the movie started we had been joined by a number of Arab Egyptians, which diminished my fury. By the end of the event, I was still angry, but also embarrassed to have almost lost my cool in front of my students. I'm still digesting the whole encounter, but I can certainly say that this was the first real world challenge I've faced since coming to Cairo.

Unfortunately, today wasn't much easier - when I arrived at Ana Al-Misri, one of the staff told me that a bunch of the girls I've become close with tried to jump over the wall and leave the organization two days ago. He then asked me to talk to them about why this behavior was bad. I think I did a decent job (I mainly talked about the importance of home and having responsibility to it even when you don't like it), but honestly I felt completely unqualified to relate to these kids about their situations. When I asked what they thought about it now, they promised they wouldn't try again because they knew it felt wrong, and that they all wanted to see me again. As touching as this was, I have to admit I panicked a little (they do know that I'm leaving right?!), but they also promised that they wouldn't run away even after I'm home in America. I think I succeeded (kind of?) in lightening the mood, but it still put a damper on my morning.

Later in the afternoon at Ana Al-Misri, I was coloring with some of the youngest kids, and I noticed that all of the teachers were instructing the kids specifically to color in the lines, and actually criticizing when the students colored trees red instead of green. Maybe this is an attitude I picked up long after preschool, but I was totally shocked - it seemed like such a restraint on the kids creativity! Don't get me wrong: I love Ana Al-Misri, and the program does great things for the kids involved, but this forced coloring in the lines seemed very different from what I'm used to. (Although to be honest, I was always the kid who colored in the lines.) I also got to spend some more time with Imam, the little boy who loves me and cried when I left last Saturday. Seriously he might be the most adorable creature on the face of the planet. I wouldn't be surprised if he made it back to America in my suitcase.