My relationships with those around me—our DukeEngage group and the many Egyptians I have talked to, both young and old—have really been at the heart of this trip for me.

Being in Egypt has only reminded me of how American I truly am, even though I have always liked to think of myself as being globally minded and a “chameleon” of sorts who is able to easily find my way in foreign environments. In my interactions here with Egyptians and my American peers, I feel something tangibly different than I do with most Americans in the United States. I have been interested in figuring out what exactly this difference is and why it exists.

A few nights ago I was at a café with Amanda and Dan and we were talking about the incredible sense of calm and serenity that pervades this city and most of the interactions that occur. Why is it that we are able to sit outside at a café for upwards of 3 to 4 hours, even with the city bustling noisily around us, and barely notice the time passing at all? In observing all the young adults sitting around us and chatting the evening away, it feels obvious and rather stupid to even note that this simply doesn’t happen in America.

I rarely ever “hang out” in the same capacity with my friends at home, even with those who I have known for years and feel comfortable talking about nearly anything with. Yet my fellow DukeEngagers and I, some of whom I didn’t know before this trip, can sit back and talk about politics and the world around us, or talk about nothing of significance, for hours without it feeling like any time is passing at all.  I am convinced that the “Egyptian psyche” has taken hold of all of us. In America, we always feel the need to fill our time with planned activities and rarely take a step back to appreciate the moments when enjoying someone’s company is all that matters.

On Wednesday night, which was the 4^th of July, Amber and I had an adventure that we didn’t bargain for. Ahmed, one of the staff members who we work with at our secondary NGO, Al-Risalah, instructed our cab driver to take us to Talaat Harb Square, a supposedly bustling and fun area of Cairo that we had yet to explore. We arrived and were immediately overcome by the excitement and energy in the streets. Huge buildings lined the sides of the roads and stores were crowded even though it was past 7pm. (Except for restaurants, nearly everything in my hometown is closed by 6pm so I’m still loving the fact that Egyptians are out and about at all hours of the day).

Earlier in the night we had ordered cupcakes to celebrate American Independence Day with Al-Risalah. There were several leftover so we decided to bring the box downtown with us. At each street vendor that we stopped at long enough to look around, we ended up giving the shopkeeper a cupcake. What started out as mindless shopping turned into an evening filled with interesting conversations because we had taken the time to engage with those around us. I’m convinced that in America I wouldn’t walk into a mall and give food to random strangers – it’s something that people in Egypt do, and something that we’ve adapted to in the most positive way possible.

The Egyptians that I have met have all seem genuinely excited to welcome me into their country. Though the language barrier can make it tough sometimes, I have gotten into countless discussions with random Egyptians on the street. (As I wrote about in my last post, we have a natural capacity to overcome these barriers). I’m trying to think of encounters I’ve had with foreigners when I’ve been in American cities and can’t come up with any. Why is it that I am so closed off to the idea of meeting new people when I am in my home environment, but here I can’t wipe the smile off my face when someone welcomes me with a resounding “Welcome to Egypt!!” and is interested in talking to me?

Speaking with Egyptians on the street and in taxis, even in our broken conversations, has been rewarding in more ways than one. Though the lack of efficiency that I have noticed in the workplace in Cairo is frustrating at times, Egyptians have really mastered the art of human interaction and how important it is to cultivate the relationships around you. “You never waste time by talking to people” is one of my favorite things that Ustaz Lo has said to our group. I am going to miss the communal aspect of this city, but I’m hoping I can take a piece of it back home with me.

Our group has been in Egypt for almost two weeks now, which is hard to believe. Exhilarating, tiring, eye-opening, and draining are just a few things that come to mind as I begin to process my experiences here. In sitting down to finally write this reflection, I can’t shake the feeling that we are in some sort of a strange time warp. On the one hand, it seems as if we’ve been living in this city forever; my experiences at out primary NGO, Ana El-Masry, and secondary NGO, Al-Resalah, now define my day-to-day life. The constant ring of Arabic has begun to permeate my thoughts, and my comfortable (and in retrospect, rather lazy) life at home seems like a distant memory.

At the same time, it’s a bit scary how quickly time has been passing. I am trying my best to soak everything in and it’s been quite the sensory experience thus far. The sounds and smells of Cairo are unlike those in any other city I have ever visited. It’s hard to capture the essence in writing, but try to imagine some combination of smog, cigarette smoke, and mint tea, plus the constant cacophony of car horns and anxious Egyptian drivers: Cairo in a nutshell.

One of the most frustrating elements of this experience thus far has been my inability to communicate with the people around me. I have this really intense wish for the words to just flow from my mouth, but even simple conversations have proven to be difficult. The good news is that I can feel myself improving—though long and tiring after a full day’s work at our NGOs, our Arabic classes have been an amazing way for us to solidify some of what we are beginning to pick up from Egyptians when we are out and about in the city.

Our work with Ana El-Masry has made this language barrier all the more interesting. I’m constantly amazed at how our group is able to communicate with the children we are working with. Kids under the age of 10 sometimes barely make sense in my own language, so imagine over 60 energetic Egyptian children yelling and crying and loving you…all in Arabic. We do speak a bit of Arabic, but the Arabic that we learn at Duke—called Fusha—is used in official settings such as newspapers and television programs. Egyptians that I’ve encountered will usually just give me a blank stare if I attempt to string together a sentence in Fusha.

Amanda and I are teaching English at Ana El-Masry, so our language skills are constantly being tested. Initially we were a bit hesitant at how our experience in the classroom was going to turn out because we don’t have much Arabic to fall back on. However, our frustrations and successes through teaching English have turned out to be the most rewarding part of my experience in Cairo.  We’ve devised an interesting routine for our day-to-day lessons and this experience has ultimately have made me more determined than ever to master the Egyptian dialect.

We begin by getting the kids’ attention using a few of the Arabic words that we know. It might be some combination of our terrible accents, rowdy 8-year-old boys, or the fact that these children are simply not expecting Arabic to come out of our mouths, but a staff member from Ana El-Masry usually has to settle the class down before we can start. During the first few days, we wanted to teach them the English alphabet, how to count to 10, and simple English expressions (such as please and thank you). Amanda and I do a short role-play in front of the class, first in Arabic and then in English. Then we have them repeat slowly after us. Even if we can only count on the kids’ attention for about 30 minutes out of an hour-long class, I’m actually amazed at how eager and excited they are to practice their English and impress us.

Our classes could hardly be described as organized, though at least on the bright side every day poses a new adventure. A few of the children have a tendency to grab white board markers out of our hands so that they can show us that they know how to write their names in English. I’ve also never heard such an excited (and loud!) recitation of the ABC’s. The smiles that light up their faces after they correctly repeat an English phrase are literally the most priceless sights I have seen.

I have learned more Arabic through the process of teaching English than I have learned in the classroom at Duke or on the streets of Cairo. Motioning to objects and acting things out has become quite the game for the kids and us (not to mention that they get a huge laugh out of seeing us struggle with their native language). It’s really incredible to see how humans have a natural propensity to communicate with each other across language barriers, especially because Amanda and I deal with the language acquisition process in a similar way to the children.

I’ve fallen in love with these kids already and can only imagine how hard it will be to say goodbye at the end of eight weeks. It has really made me question how we can reconcile our short stay in the kids’ lives, but that’s a post for another day!

Amanda, Hani (one of our students) and I at Ana El-Masry