A New Experience for an American Civic Engagement Program in Egypt
By Samir Al-Jamal, Vice Editor-in-Chief
Translated by Cosette Wong

Professor Mbaye Bashir Lo underscored this year’s incredibly different experience for participants of a Duke University program he leads in Egypt every year. This year’s delegation of students came to Egypt, clearly excited to learn more about the ongoing Egyptian Revolution. Their program, which began on May 29 and will continue for nearly nine weeks until July 29, reflects this excitement and engages Egyptian society on many levels. It includes development in a school for street children in 6 October City—the students teach art, music, sports and English classes—as well as working with the following organizations: the renowned Ar-Resala in Mohandeseen; Al-Kiyan, an organization that cares for children with disabilities; and Sakkakini, a church with a large Christian community from Southern Sudan.

Professor Mbaye, who was born in Senegal, received his Bachelor’s degree in Arabic Literature at the International University of Africa in Khartoum, Sudan. He has a Master’s degree from the Khartoum International Institute of Arabic Language and a higher level Master’s degree in History from Cleveland University. He has delved into many issues of language and religion in African literature and recently had an Arabic book published in Cairo: “America, Islam and Sudan: Readings in the Darkness of Modern Political Thought.”

One of the most important parts of the book is an analysis of the American Constitution, in large part written by James Madison, author of over a third of the Federalist Papers, which elucidated the workings of the proposed Constitution. This constitution was issued on December 17, 1787, at the heels of a conference convened in Philadelphia. 17 amendments have been added to it since its inception, including the Bill of Rights, written by Madison in 1791. It sufficed to assemble the 13 colonies and convince their residents, people from different sects with many different opinions and goals, to coexist under a united system.

Some of the essays of prominent American writers make up the Federalist Papers. The most important among them assert that political differences and differences in belief are necessary for a diverse political life. Though the reasons underlying sectarianism cannot be eradicated, it is possible to limit its repercussions by respecting differences and agreeing on certain indisputable givens: for example, every person may practice any religion, but America has no official religion, and the law governs all.

Professor Mbaye also observed that Egypt has always captivated Americans, especially those who study Arabic. Still, Duke University’s decision to allow this year’s program to continue following the Egyptian Revolution is unrivaled. This reflects its prestigious commitment; the university is ranked ninth in the United States (U.S. News and World Report, 2011 edition of Best Colleges) and every year many apply to Duke but only a few are accepted after a rigorous application process.

When asked about Egypt’s current circumstances, Professor Lo said Egypt had presented the world with an unprecedented revolution. He believes Egypt, a moderate and tolerant country, will recover and renew, and that the current difficult circumstances are only natural and normal.

Last evening the group had our weekly Duke-Cairo Platform at the African Arab Research Center. I thought it would be both apt and time-urgent to provide an update on the discussion we had last Sunday (time-urgent indeed), which I briefly mentioned in a previous post (July 3, the night tents burned in Tahrir Square).

For a little more background, the Duke-Cairo Platform is part of our intellectual enrichment here in Egypt. It is in my opinion an excellent initiative that has allowed Duke students to interact and converse with intellectuals and academics from all walks of Egyptian life. In our first four weeks, we have met with an Egyptian judge, professors and students from the American University in Cairo (AUC), leaders in the Muslim Brotherhood, and graduate students doing research in Egypt. Last week, the group was invited to the house of Dr. Barbara Ibrahim, the Director of the John D. Gerhart Center for Philanthropy and Civic Engagement (http://www.aucegypt.edu/research/gerhart/Pages/default.aspx). Also present were center staff members Amy and Sherwet:

Several interesting points were raised. With regards to the primary work we’ve been doing in Cairo, working in NGOs and with impoverished communities, it was refreshing to hear the Gerhart Center’s definition of the term ‘civic engagement’, which is in relation to ‘philanthropy’ – civic engagement is essentially the support of community service work in ways that go beyond the mere provision of monetary resources. In some ways, this definition challenges my conception of ‘civic engagement’ as popularized in Duke-speak. At Duke, one tends to speak of ‘civic engagement’ as sustainable efforts in working with communities to address their organic needs, as opposed to ‘community service’ that often works in the short-term for communities. The differentiating line drawn by the Gerhart Center, in the ‘what (resources)’, instead of the ‘when’ and ‘how’, makes me wonder if defining the term is only a matter of semantics, and if it does have real impact on how organizations like the Duke Center for Civic Engagement and the Gerhart Center work.

On the popular topic of the Arab spring, and in light of street clashes last Tuesday night and Wednesday, Sherwet shared her view that the quality of protesters is different now, that there are a lot more ‘thugs’ who are violent for the sake of it, and are neither politically organized, nor have clear political goals. While I challenged Sherwet’s point, pointing to the legitimacy of the emotions (including anger and frustration) of all protesters, and the need for those who are more politically-minded to still engage and take the lead in organizing, I recognize the practical implications in Sherwet’s view. I think her opinion is especially relevant to a concern that has been in common discussion – the life-cycle of the revolution, and how to sustain the interests of all Egyptians in this movement for change.

The rest of this post consists largely of my self-indulgent musings, one can stop reading and that would be all for now.

During the evening discussion, the term ‘global citizenship’ popped up (I forgot the exact context, but it probably had to do with civic engagement on a global level). Shortly after the seated portion of the conversation, when we were all in different parts of the house chatting, someone from the group (I think it was Dr. Emily) asked me if I consider myself to be a global citizen. I replied with something resembling ‘ask not whether I’m a global citizen, but whether the world accepts me as its citizen.’

Michael immediately called me out for being a cop out, which was a fair assessment; I had wanted to sound intelligent by being trite and not dealing in depth with the question. In the couple of days that followed, however, I thought more about the ‘global citizen’ question, and realized that an answer similar to the one I had proposed could still be used, even if I was being more serious. ‘Global citizenship’ is not simply a matter of individual choice; personal and prevailing world conditions form the key determinant.

I can be a global citizen because:

1. I am male, and am able to access the privileges men as a group enjoy and withhold from women. In many cities in the world, I’m able to walk about freely at night, dress as I please, and look people in eye and smile when I pass them on the streets. While these little details might seem unremarkable, they speak of the patriarchal structure of our societies – one that systematically denies even unremarkable aspects of everyday life to some while allowing them for others. As read in Allan G. Johnson’s The Gender Knot, this is what ‘Peggy McIntosh calls an “unearned advantage,” an entitlement that “none of us should have to earn.”’ In the specific case of Cairo, I can move through the streets freely, take the Metro even when the train is packed, and ride in a taxi alone with no fear of sexual harassment or assault.
2. According to the Global Rich List (http://www.globalrichlist.com/), with my ‘annual income’ of USD $2000, I’m in the top 17.62% of the richest people in the world. And that is not counting the financial resources I’ve been given by my family, to study in a private US university with no financial aid, to travel, to not worry about eating out or buying an extra suit if I needed one.
3. I am heterosexual-identified. In most parts of the world, I do not have to worry about showing affection for my lover in public; I will also not be denied the rights to marriage. And of course, I don’t have to worry about traveling to Uganda or South Africa.
4. I have no physical disabilities. I neither worry about conquering ramp-less sidewalks in Cairo, nor that I would be disadvantaged when seeking work, and would be relegated to begging or selling packets of tissue paper in the streets.

I cannot be a global citizen because:

1. I’m not white, and as a result have restricted mobility in the United States and the Western world. I can be mistaken for a delivery boy simply by carrying a bag of takeout from Grace’s back to my dorm (true story from last semester). And while it is common these days to reduce ‘racism’ to the ignorant and hurtful actions of individuals, or ‘rednecks’, once one starts answering the questions of who has access to education and healthcare, who populates (and does not populate) the world’s prisons (of which prisoners in the United States form a huge chunk), and who makes up the lower strata of economic realities, it is (in my opinion) not hard to see a world social order that is still white-centered, white-dominated, and white-identified. (For white-identification, see a post from my friend Bhumi’s blog, about a boy in Sierra Leone who wants to be white like Michael Jackson.)

All in all, the odds of me being able to consider myself a global citizen are pretty good. I wonder whose odds are better?

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/04/world/middleeast/04egypt.html

Thankfully we are all well, and I apologize to family and friends who have already been notified for the redundancy in this statement – just thought an official, albeit delayed, update through the blog is still necessary. Notwithstanding minor changes to our daily transportation arrangements, we are still very much in our established routine of service work with both primary and secondary NGO partners, Arabic classes in the evenings, and weekly lectures, dinners and reflections (as Erica’s latest post briefly mentions). In fact, we were in a discussion with staff from the John D. Gerhart Center for Philanthropy and Civic Engagement, at the American University in Cairo, when news of the Sunday night clash first broke out. We carried on with the discussion, avoided Tahrir Square on our way back to the apartments, and obtained information via the internet upon our safe return.

While I do appreciate my safety being constantly cared for, I also find it incredibly ironic that we have to turn to major news outlets for delayed reporting when Tahrir Square is 5 minutes of walking time away from where our apartments are. It is one thing to be in Egypt and speak with Egyptians about their experiences before, during and after the spring events; it is another to be part of unfolding events. I’m not proposing that the group needs to go where the ‘excitement’ is (and as on last Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, it can be downright dangerous), but to construct a sterile environment in which contact with the world outside of our routine is minimal seems a little over-protective as well. (Duke ‘bubble’ anyone?)

I concede it is a fine line to tread. I recently watched (in my opinion) a great TED talk on employing community-based action against street violence in Mexico, by Emiliano Salinas (http://www.ted.com/talks/emiliano_salinas_a_civil_response_to_violence.html). Towards the end of the talk, Salinas used a quote from the Roman poet Juvenal that particularly resonated with my personal beliefs: Count it the greatest sin, to prefer life to honor, and for the sake of living, to lose what makes life worth living.

The Institute of African Research and Studies at Cairo University is hosting a conference in conjunction with DukeEngage Cairo this coming Monday, July 4, from 3:00-7:00pm.

Titled “The United States: Islam in Sudan and the Revolution in Egypt,” the conference will include both a discussion on Dr. Mbaye Lo’s latest book, America, Islam and Sudan, and a panel discussion on the United States and the Egyptian revolution.

The event will be held at the Meeting Hall at the Institute of African Research and Studies, and is open to the public. For more details, please refer to the following programs, in both English and Arabic. All are welcome!

Image courtesy of reddiva.wordpress.com

My career as a back-scratcher started with another one of the usual altercations that take place between Hamdy and Asam, two boys who have just recently left their lives on the streets and joined the organization. Asam can be extremely short-tempered, and on Tuesday he landed a hard blow to Hamdy’s back after the latter had said something to him. According to Asam, it was a ‘bad word’, but of course I didn’t understand it, and the caretaker who was with the class didn’t hear it.

I could have disciplined Asam (or Hamdy too, for that matter). Instead, I was reminded of a time when I had caused physical hurt to a classmate, but only after he had repeatedly taunted me, verbally and physically, and how I was made the only responsible party by the teacher. Disciplining children is indeed one of life’s gray areas, and I chose to be lenient that day – I simply sat with Asam, and since he was refusing to continue with his work and laying his head on the table, I started scratching his back to both coax him to sleep and provide a therapeutic avenue for some of his anger.

Since then, I’ve scratched Hamdy’s back as well (there is no way I can provide the service to just one of them without the other child throwing a massive tantrum), and the backs of a number of the other children, to calm them down when they are crying, or get them to fall asleep when they are uncooperative and disruptive to the class. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with the joys of having your back scratched, I can sincerely attest to how wonderful back-scratching is; it is one of those things I terribly miss from being a child.)

Some of my colleagues have jokingly questioned if I’m simply taking the easy way out, especially with the objective of getting the children to fall asleep. After Thursday’s conversation with a Brazilian volunteer, Paolo, who helped Ana Al-Masry formulate its current education program, I feel partially vindicated. In the cases of Hamdy and Asam, Paolo advised that the priority should be to make them feel welcomed and wanted, instead of pushing them to complete structured classroom tasks.

I wonder if by virtue of us being educated Duke students, we burden ourselves with this notion that we need to fix problems and change lives. I know I think too highly of myself sometimes, forgetting that a better world should not be based on competition but cooperation. In the case of back-scratching, I see it as a way to cooperate with the needs of the children, for physical and emotional comfort, and not a competition to gain control of the classroom, which is more the strict disciplinary approach that I used to place a lot of faith in. I’m definitely re-thinking my approach to teaching the children, or even what I’m teaching them – love and compassion, versus control and aggression.

On a final and personal note, back-scratching has also reminded me of the changing relationship I’ve had with my father, that while I used to yearn for the back-scratches he would give me before bed, there is now more than a physical distance between us. There are other reasons involved, but we’ve also become increasingly estranged as I become more of a ‘man’. In the male-majority environment of Ana Al-Masry, I’ve noticed that the children face high pressure to measure up to the socialized idea of manhood, in order to have more control and less fear in their lives. Through back-scratching, I hope I can in my own way convey the message that both yearning for and providing physical intimacy is okay, that wanting and desiring love is not weak, it’s natural.

A camel-ride operator offered to take photos of Sabrina (Darwiche) and me next to his camel, supposedly free of charge, and then proceeded to essentially force us on a camel ride. When we vehemently refused, he asked for 20 Egyptian pounds in return for the photos. I was adamant about not paying, not because I couldn’t afford it, but because it was not something we had agreed on or even discussed, and I hate the feeling of being cheated. I even offered to delete the pictures, but he would not leave us alone. At this point, Professor Lo came by and advised that we pay, and helped kick-start the payment, which by then had been brought down to 10 pounds, by lending us 5. Sabrina forked out another 3 pounds, but me being the stubborn person I can sometimes be, just simply did not want to pay.

When it became clear the camel-ride operator was even more stubborn than I was, I very begrudgingly took out some coins from my pocket and handed him 2 more pounds, counting angrily in Arabic: “Wahid! Ithnan!” What made me really lose it though, was that he saw I had more coins in my hand, and went so far as to reach and try and grab them. My hand shot back, and I loudly commanded him to stop. After storming a few steps away, I was still fuming, and I turned to the camel rider again, this time with the line, “Have some dignity, man!”

Afterwards, while sitting through a horse ride around the pyramids (I got on as the result of some more intense hustling), I calmed down a little and thought through what had just happened. I have been to a number of tourist attractions in Southeast Asia and China, and while there have been hustling, I felt that my personal space was still being respected, and that there is sufficient reason for me to have been upset and mad at the camel rider. At the same time, it is baffling to me, from my life of relative comfort, that the camel man did not see his actions as inappropriate at all.

Indeed, what is ‘dignity’? Is ‘dignity’ a value of individual choice, or determined by larger societal factors? Can a poor camel owner, whose economic difficulties have been compounded by the recent political upheaval in Egypt, have ‘dignity’?

I am conflicted; still kind of mad.

Yesterday, while visiting Resala, a charity organization we are partnering with this summer, I was fortunate to chance upon one of the many debates I’m sure has been happening on multiple levels in Egyptian society. As opposed to the optimism expressed by the other volunteers present (see picture below), about the future in Egypt, Ali, a graduate from Al-Azhar, voiced his concerns that there has not really been a mindset shift on the part of Egyptians. Using the example of the French revolution, Ali argued that the success of that historical movement lay not with the actual removal of the throne, but with the explosion of ideas that spelt out the rules for developing a civil society. In his opinion, while the Egyptian ‘throne’ has been overthrown, the explosion of ideas has not happened, and might not be forthcoming.

At this point, I would have liked more context, cultural and historical, to better understand Ali’s views on the current Egyptian mindset, and why he thinks it would not be helpful for long-lasting social change. However, I do think Ali raises a crucial point; for every social upheaval to be able to move society forward in the long-term, there must be accompanying re-education that is participatory for the masses, a period of reformation.

In the case of Egypt, I think there are signs this reformation is taking place, especially in religious and education spaces dominated by the younger generation. This view had not been prevalent for me through Western media outlets, until Professor Bruce Lawrence recommended the following article, one that is “most hopeful… on the future of the Arab Spring” – http://www.thenation.com/article/160439/egypt-after-mubarak

In the coming weeks, I hope to observe for myself if and how Egyptians are working towards this participatory civil society, of course sharing Saul Alinsky’s belief that “if people have the power to act, in the long run they will, most of the time, reach the right decisions.” (Rules for Radicals, 1971)