Siwa (October 7-10)

If you happen to find yourself in Cairo, and you happen to have 4-5 days of free time, I would suggest you attempt a trip to Siwa. Despite the daunting 10 hour bus ride, it will most certainly be worth your time. Siwa is a desert oasis near the Libyan border. Suffice to say, it has everything you could want in a desert oasis: hot springs, cold springs, a salt water lake, fresh dates, and spring water. It was truly three days that I won’t soon forget. Siwan culture is also something of an anomaly to the Egyptian culture I have come to know. First, they speak Berber instead of Arabic. Second, once the women are married, they are not allowed out of their homes unless they receive permission from their husbands. Third, if you talk to a woman on the street your legs will most likely be broken by her family. One quick highlight from the trip. We had the opportunity to take ‘safari’ into the desert and stay the night at a ‘Bedouin camp’. After ramping over sand dunes in a jeep that should have been retired long ago, we settled into our Bedouin camp beneath the vastness of the stars. As we lay beneath the stars we heard music quietly being played from a nearby jeep. All of sudden, the music got a lot louder and Enrique Iglesias: ‘Hero’, was blasting from the speakers. With no words spoken between us, five of us guys jumped up, stripped down naked, and took off running into the desert. I have never felt freer. And in the pale moonlight, six white American asses have never looked more…well, pale.

Home Stays

This is long overdue. And is the first of many long overdue posts. Enjoy.

It felt a little bit like Christmas morning—excitement and anticipation filled the air as thirty Americans students sat like lost puppies waiting to be claimed by some loving family—the week of home stays had come. For the next week we would be living with lower to middle class Egyptian families in order to get a glimpse into what life in Egypt is really like. It went a little something like this.

Our heads quickly turned as each new family walked through the door of our villa: was it our time? After about an hour and a half, my time finally came. Walking quickly across the room, my friend Steven and I were introduced to Maher and Nuur: our new host dad and brother. After the usual rounds of introductory questions, we were informed that we would be attending a wedding ceremony with them. There is no better way to feel out of place than by attending the wedding of someone you do not know, in language you do not speak, with people you only just met. In addition, Steven and I are both tall, skinny, white guys—let's just say that there was no blending into the crowd. Going through the receiving line, I can’t imagine what was going through the bride and grooms mind as I told them congratulations. Ah, the joys of studying abroad. Our family was Christian—most of the guys lived with Christian families because it is very hard to find Muslim families that are comfortable with a bunch of American boys invading their homes. But seriously, some Muslim women would be uncomfortable unveiling themselves in front of strange men. Our family lived about 40 minutes away from my flat in Cairo in a part of town called Haydaek El Maadi. Making our way through narrow busy streets, we finally reached their apartment and went in. Their simple apartment was pretty normal for your average middle class Egyptian family—small kitchen, two bedrooms, and a small living room. The streets of Cairo are hectic, crowded, and loud. Therefore, apartments become a place of refuge from the crowded outside world. During the week I spent with my host family, we only left the apartment to go to church. Otherwise, the time was spent watching T.V. and sitting around. My host mom worked as a teacher, but the schools had not begun for the year, so she spent her evenings making food to go and sell in the market. Maher worked for the Bible Society of Egypt and Nuur is your typical ten-year-old who enjoys playing video games and a soccer. We shared 5 days together in this small apartment. Steven and I would struggle through Arabic; our host mom made us amazing food; Nuur played Fifa 2009 with us; and Maher was an eager listener and was always there to correct the many mistakes in our limited knowledge of Arabic. Like my time in Germany, I am continually amazed by the kindness of strangers and their willingness to extend hospitality. Though the language barrier made for some awkward silences, I always felt welcomed and cared for. I look awful in the picture. Don’t judge me.

The Arab League

Yesterday we had the opportunity to visit the Arab League. Established in 1945, the Arab League was an attempt by Arab countries to promote Arab co-operation and present a unified political front on the international scene. Modeled after the structure of the UN, the Arab League has a diversified role in the region. From economic forums to the promotion of democracy, the Arab League plays a necessary role in the Arab world. Its growth and expansion are necessary for the region. On Sunday, we were able to sit down and talk with the Chief of Staff to the Secretary General of the Arab League. We spent about an hour and a half discussing topics ranging from the recent elections in Iran, Israel, and the role of the Arab League in African affairs. Needless to say, this was an incredibly interesting conversation. As our meeting ended, we were informed that the Secretary General was participating in a discussion on the life of Gandhi, which marked the beginning of an exposition commemorating the life and work of Gandhi. Though the meeting had already begun, we were invited to attend. Standing off to the side, we listened to ambassadors, academics and specialists debate the implications of Gandhi’s message and its applicability to the world today. When the discussion came to an end, we were invited to enjoy a little ‘Indian hospitality’, and mingle with the distinguished guests. Just another day here in Cairo.

the low down

I was looking over my blog earlier today and I realized that it was lacking some essential information about my daily life in Cairo. In a journalistic sense, I was lacking the ‘what, where, when and how’ that is necessary to any story. So, to remedy this fact, here is a little overview of what me being in Cairo actually looks like.

I am currently participating in a program called the Middle East Studies Program (MESP). There are thirty of us here in Cairo from a variety of schools in the states. We landed on August 26, 2009 and will be here until December 10, 2009. MESP is a multifaceted approach to vastly misunderstood region. In addition to studying Arabic, we are taking three other classes centered on life in the Middle East: Middle East People and Culture, Middle East Conflict and Change and Islamic Thought and Practice. All our classes as taught by professors from the American University in Cairo. Our program, however, is not directly located on the AUC campus. Our apartments, and the villa where we go for classes, are located in a neighborhood in Cairo called Agouza. Thus, we have no contact with AUC and never venture out to their campus (which lies about 30 min outside of Cairo). This means that we are the only white faces walking the street. If you have never found yourself in a situation where you are the absolute minority, I would suggest you try it out sometime (nothing furthers understanding and empathy faster than personal experience). Each morning, I walk approximately two minutes from my flat to our villa. It is at the villa that we eat our meals, take classes, and listen to speakers. We have classes four days a week (Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday). In Egypt, Friday and Saturday constitute the weekend, with Friday mornings being the time when services are held in the Mosques. On Tuesdays, each of us spends the day working for a local charity organization or NGO (non-governmental organization). I was assigned to a local NGO called The Episcopal Training Center, which teaches both English and Arabic. My friend Ryan and I have somehow become the technology experts and are contracted to do jobs that we have absolutely no qualification for. Ah, the joys of NGO work. Supplemented within this already busy schedule are the frequent speakers we have the pleasure to hear. From local Muslim human rights activists to Reverends in the Anglican Church, the speakers provide an incredible to expand our learning outside the context of a classroom. But wait folks, there’s more. In addition to our academic commitments, we also get the opportunity to play tourist (previous blog entries highlight these excursions). Starting next Monday, we will enter into another aspect of our time here in Cairo: homestays with local Egyptian families. Our stays will last for five days. After these homestays, it is a nonstop sprint to October 28th. From October 28th till November 25th, we will be traveling around the Middle East spending one week in Turkey, one week in Syria and Jordan, and two weeks in Israel. After spending Thanksgiving in Cairo, we will all bunker down for finals week, spend another couple days debriefing, and then board an early morning flight on December 10.

Cheers.

skinny love

Where does one begin this long expedition towards You? Should I find it upon a path? Step after step along a well grooved trail etched within the stone? Or is it to be found within the field; bathed within the silence of heaven your mystical wisdom is somehow dispensed like welfare checks for hungry mouths. Are you really angry up there? Somehow seething for eternal vengeance against a creation that chose to look the other way? I guess I just do not see it that way. Would we do it again? I think we probably would. But I assure you, our actions are not rooted in malicious hatred of the promise you held secret for us. We often see the world through a glass darkly. Our grasping for stars falls short, but we are still grasping.

Elf Tea: or an entry that has nothing do with being in Egypt (but has everything to do with me being here)

Before the move these boxes of memories remained well hidden. Boxes stayed stacked, often forgotten beneath that small closet adjacent to the stairs. That was before the move. Now these memories are scattered across the floor, intermingled, laced together like the fingers of newlyweds. Some are newly discovered, or should I say newly remembered? While others remain dark, still lying in wait. The physical act of remembering is never achieved by direct force or concentration of will. Rather, memory remains a particularly slippery character; ever introduced through nuance, association and unsolicited visits. I suppose this is how I remembered elf tea. Elf tea really warrants neither explanation nor exposition; because, like most memories, the significance goes much deeper than mere physical description. Our collective memory rooted us in time, a physical space defined by our presence in foggy January days, when the sky hung like newly poured concrete—eager to harden and solidify its hold over our winter wanderings. Though memories like these often adopt a more nostalgic nature, I think I can unequivocally say that I was happy…we were happy. There was no particular reason for our happiness; or at least none that I can point to. Our happiness, rather, seemed to resemble elf tea: a blend, a lovingly concocted hybrid of ingredients that, when enjoyed alone were more than sufficient to satisfy—but when applied together, formed something greater. Shared cups of tea united us and my bones often ache to drink from that cup once again. Ultimately, I suppose elf tea represents a road sign along this path of memories—a point of reference guiding me through a maze. But memories, like elf tea, are something that cannot be created alone. They are meant to be shared. To understand the person I am today, these memories cannot stay well preserved beneath the stairs.

“Some memories I kept, others left, others I must have let go to protect.”

Luxor

This past weekend was spent walking amongst some of the oldest known ruins in the world. We visited the Valley of Kings and walked through the eloquent tombs built to protect and guide pharaohs on their journey into the afterlife. The weekend also involved some necessary relaxation, reading, and hours spent lounging by our hotel’s beautiful rooftop pool. Needless to say, I love my time in Egypt, I am often overwhelmed by what I have seen, and I am extremely thankful for the amazing people accompanying me on this journey. Though I could spend paragraphs describing the wonders of ancient Egyptian temples, the soaring obelisks still towering like weary soldiers, the sturdy pillars reaching hundreds of feet towards heaven, and the intricate carvings depicting the historical conquests of long dead pharaohs, I was struck by something deeper as I wandered through the remains of this ancient civilization. From my very first moments in Egypt I have been struck and humbled by a rich, subtle and complex feeling of history. Growing up in an American society that is increasingly ahistorical, or, at the very worst, quick to believe that all of human history began and ended with the U S of A, it is always refreshing to be reminded of the vast history of the human race. This feeling has permeated my thoughts on faith, the Church, politics, and my role as a young American trying to reconcile his place in the world.

Paths unfold beneath my feet.
But like a ball of string
I never seem to roll back into my original form.