Category Archives: Week 1

Starting to Walk Like an Egyptian

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First Impressions

Nascar, Cairo Edition

Not even New Jersey driving prepared me for Cairo. This is some of the craziest driving I have ever seen. Lanes don’t exist, honking the horn indicates that you are 3 inches away from hitting another car as well as signals your presence at a 4 way intersection that in the Cairo fashion does not contain a single stop sign (thus there is literally nonstop horn-honking), drivers turn their lights off at night at arbitrary and unplanned intervals to save their car batteries, and hitting another car in a fender bender results in a simple shrug, a hand wave, and a “fuhgetaboutit”-esque expression. To prove that I am not exaggerating, if you look up YouTube videos of Cairo traffic you will find titles such as “World’s Craziest Highways Part 1,” “Hell Driving in Cairo,” “Man Plays Frogger in Traffic and Loses,” and “If you have a death wish, drive in Cairo.” On the second day, I was lightly rear ended by a car moving in reverse on a side street as the group and I walked to our classes. On the way back to our apartment from Ana El-Masry, the driver of our 15-seater van tried driving the opposite direction on a one-way that was flooded with nearly 100 cars bumper to bumper after missing a previous turn.

How to Negotiate 101

Prices in Egypt are fluid. Example: taxi rides, items in some grocery stores, and souvenirs constantly fluctuate in price, similar to Canal Street in New York City. When at the pyramids last Friday, I truly came to understand the advice of our program director, Dr. Mbaye Bashir Lo: “In Egypt, when someone does a service for you, even if they do not ask for money upfront, it is expected that you will pay them.” As Yohana, Kishan, Desmond and I were walking to another pyramid to join the rest of the group, an Egyptian man toting a camel approached Desmond and asked if he was Egyptian (this has happened on multiple occasions, so we weren’t suspicious of anything. Kishan Shah is asked if he’s Egyptian everywhere he goes also). The man took his scarf from around his neck, donned it around Desmond as if to signal a welcome to Egypt gesture and then asked if he wanted a picture. Giving up his camera and sporting his best model pose, Desmond got a few snapshots of himself in front of the Egyptian’s camel. When the man went to return the camel to Desmond, where he was standing in front of the camel, the 5 foot 4, 115 pound man swept Desmond off his feet in a bride and groom fashion and thrust him onto the camel’s hump, and then stepped back to snap more photos.

I kept saying, “Desmond, that guy is gonna make you pay him for taking pictures,” remembering what Professor Lo told us. The Egyptian man heard me and responded, “No, no you no pay. This free. I am not bad man.” Still a little skeptical, I went over to Desmond to leave, when the man asked if I wanted a picture with him also. I said ok, asked again if this was completely free, and waited for one picture to be taken. Thinking the man was returning the camera, I was dumbfounded when he instead lifted me off the ground and threw me onto the hump of the camel behind Desmond, who then dismounted. The man continued to snap pictures and then asked if I wanted to go for a ride. Knowing instantly that Desmond and I were neck deep in camel pictures and would absolutely be forced to pay an exorbitant price, I shouted, “No!” while trying to dismount. The man pushed me back on, while one of his other cronies came out from behind a pyramid, took out his whip, and smacked it into the camel’s side, causing it to lurch upwards as he led the camel (with me on top of it) away from the rest of my friends. Now, I actually started to scream and panic set in (What if the camel started running away at full speed and I couldn’t get away? What if this guy brought me out miles into the desert and Professor Lo and the others never found me again?), I contemplated hopping onto my feet on the camel’s back like a Circus elephant stuntman, plunging from the 8 foot height of the camel into the sand, and dashing away. After trotting what seemed like half a mile from the rest of our group, but in actuality was probably about 20 feet, I screamed, “Let me off!” for the 15th time and the man leading the camel complied, bringing it to its knees so I could hop off. Before the camel even touched the ground, the man’s open palm was 6 inches from my face and was repeatedly uttering, “Tip, tip.” I told him that he had told us just 5 minutes ago that this wouldn’t cost a penny. He responded, “This tip isn’t for me. It’s for the camel.” Hidden fees just took on a whole new meaning. Panic-stricken again and in the midst of an encounter where someone aggressively demanded money from me, I sacrificed the last 10 pounds (= $1.66) in my wallet.

“This is bad tip from an American. The last guy gave me 20 dollars (160 pounds),” he said and grabbed my hands while demanding more money as I tried rushing back to my group. What was happening? I thought to myself. I literally don’t have enough money to pay for a service that was told to me was free. Would I end up in Egyptian prison? Would the United States have to send a negotiation team to Cairo to secure my release? I ripped my wrists free of his grasp and sprinted for my life, traversing like a seasoned jungle wayfarer over enormous scraggly boulders and pits, scrambling to get back to the rest of the group. As I turned around to see if I was being followed, I saw Desmond and the Egyptian Ansel Adams in a heated, tense conversation. He escaped unharmed physically, but ended up paying 100 pounds for 6 pictures, so I felt pretty good about myself after hearing his troubles. 

The Egyptian People

Despite this experience, my conviction is that Egyptians are genuinely gracious and giving people. After teaching English to the staff for only one two hour session at our second NGO, Al Kayan, our newly formed friends walked us to the metro and paid the fare for all 6 of us. They were thrilled to meet Americans and call us their friends, and they asked us tons of questions about Duke and our homes. Now, the fare for the metro for all of us amounted to a little over one American dollar, but our friend Ahmed earns only 1000 Egyptian pounds a month, which amounts to about $166. For him to offer to pay the fares for students on a fully-funded trip and from a country where even the smallest wealth will allow you to live like royalty in Egypt is representative of the warm-hearted, compassionate, and friendly nature of the Egyptian people. In addition, we were invited to the homes of two other people in our class, a tour of the city from yet another, and a plan to go to the movie theater. The two guys close to our ages from class, Ahmed and Ahmed, took us out to one of their favorite ice creams places and a café, where they again offered to foot the bill.

These seemingly random acts of kindness, given that we had met these people for a total of 4 hours and did not have 100% efficiency in communication, made me think of the disparity between Egyptian and American culture. Not only would we be discouraged from talking to strangers from a foreign country, but inviting them to our homes for dinner to meet our families? That would be absolutely insane. Women wearing hijabs in America get the attention that we as Americans get in Cairo. Except Egyptians graciously open their homes to Americans. Yet, I strongly suspect that the reverse would never happen. Egyptians are thrilled to be able to say they have American friends, but in American are we thrilled to show off our new Egyptian immigrant friends who speak little English? What does this mean of our American culture? It’s ironic that for a country built on immigrants and commonly referred to as the Melting Pot, we don’t open our arms as widely and graciously as a country that was recently on the U.S. State Department’s Do Not Travel List. Nonetheless, America has the industry and opportunities in place that allow for mobility and success for hardworking people despite socioeconomic status, while Egypt does not, so is it justifiable or reasonable to accept the lack of outward friendliness from its people if we make up for it by having outward friendliness from its businesses and establishments? Are established ideals and beliefs a substitute for personal graciousness?

 

Ordinary and Extraordinary

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In my first post, I was concerned about the familiar and the unfamiliar of this trip, largely in the context of my expectations (or lack thereof). Now my problem is the opposite one – I seem to have acquired too many competing issues, duties, activities, lessons, and relationships to possibly deal with and reflect on. My apologies in advance for the very long post – it represents my best attempt to make sense of the hectic five days we’ve spent here.

The Unfamiliar

Easily the first thing that comes to mind when considering my time in Cairo so far is my rapid and dramatic deterioration in health. The first day or two was fine, but after that briefly glorious honeymoon period, my body apparently realized just what a foreign environment in which it had arrived. Since then, I’ve been dealing with traveler’s diarrhea, a host of bizarre cold symptoms (likely a recurrence of a recent minor illness), and constricted breathing (as a result of the smog, sand, and secondhand smoke in the city). Everything, even walking, is exhausting – and the 12-15 hour days we’ve been spending out in the city haven’t helped either.

But for every moment of sheer exhaustion, there has been one of incredible, transcendent beauty. The sunset on the Nile river. Catching a first brief glimpse of the seemingly endless sprawl of khaki buildings as our plane descended over Cairo. Seeing the peace and learning at the oldest institute of higher education in the entire world, Al-Azhar. Noticing some unbelievably massive pyramids peek over the skyline on our way to Ana al-Masry for the first time. Grinning at the antics of hyper kids in Garden City.

Whether for good or ill, this all constitutes the extraordinary as far as I’m concerned. The  language (my first local dialect lesson is tomorrow), the food, the cultural attitude towards personal interaction; it’s all brand new. I envy people like Ustazth Lo, who can effortlessly navigate the streets and reliably predict the behavior of the people. It’s difficult to fully engage while both struggling with the physical unfamiliarity of the situation and gawking tourist-like at the beautiful landmarks.

The Familiar

Over the last two days, though, I’ve encountered two distinct situations that took me out of this “uncomfort zone.” They made me stop and think that this country might not be so alien after all, when it comes to the things that matter in the deepest sense.

A couple days ago, I had my first Modern Standard Arabic lesson at al-Diwan, a local language institute. The first two hours or so of the class went much as expected – going through a textbook, reviewing grammar, and picking up some vocab. At the end, though, we shifted from linguistics to more practical conversational skills. The four of us discussed the Egyptian Revolution and upcoming election with the teacher in entirely Arabic for over an hour.

Our professor was a typical, soft-spoken Egyptian man with a stable family and nice home in Cairo. But when it came to the welfare of his country, he was all passion and insuperable energy. He encouraged us to visit Tahrir and spoke of its beauty. He taught us some new Arabic words to describe Mubarak, since the ones we knew weren’t strong enough insults (سارق = thief, ظالم = a nasty cross between tryant and racist). He argued in favor of Mohamed Morsi until he felt we were convinced. His specific political views aren’t the main point – I was moved by his restless determination to make his country the best it could be. That kind of fire is what kicked off the Arab Spring.

An entirely different, but equally powerful, brand of focus was displayed today during our first day at Ana al-Masry, our primary service partner in Egypt (Stephanie posted a great summary of their work the other day). From the minute we showed up at the compound, we were surrounded by children of all ages who wanted nothing more than to be our best friends. The center boasts a fantastic staff of talented teachers, musicians, and psychologists who give up their lives to help these kids. We did our best to meet in the middle of our broken Arabic and their broken English, but I don’t need words to communicate the sheer goodness, the basic humanity of these children and the adults who hold them so dear.

It was lots of fun to be around such hyper good-naturedness, but I was expecting that from my crazy little brothers at home. It is truly inspiring how the children maintain such overwhelmingly positive energy despite all the hardship and pain they have experienced. Their lives have been turned around, and I wish I could replicate in everyone their willingness to learn. The same inspiration can be drawn from the willingness of the institute’s employees to carry on despite the intense difficulty they face every day. A key principle of the program is that human development and societal integration are central to a sustainable future for Egypt. One of the leaders at the center told us, “Each child is his own story.” They believe that, and it shows in the passion, personal attention, and dedication with which they try to secure a better future for their nation’s youth.

In closing

Despite how vehemently my body might disagree with me, I know this place; I know all these people. They’re the ones from my family, from Duke, and from around the world who  can bounce back from any tragedy and aren’t afraid to put themselves at risk to pursue a greater cause.

It has long been said that our greatest heroes are ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Now that’s a cultural language that I feel I can navigate as effortlessly as a native Egyptian crosses the crazy streets. I just hope I can live up to it, by finding their familiar example among the unfamiliar sights of Cairo.

Photo credit: Kishan Shah, Stephanie Egeler, Sarah Haas, and Ryan Gaylord

The Children are the Focus

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This morning we climbed onto a 15-passenger van and began our journey out of Garden City to the desert to Ana El-Masry, our primary community partner. After  turning around several times on the highway, we finally turned onto a dirt path in the desert that looked like a construction site and did some serious off-roading until we reached a massive compound complete with grass in the front yard and a row of palm trees lining the drive.  With miles and miles of sand stretched out around it, it was a little oasis and a haven for many.

Ana El-Masry from a distance

Once inside, we met with Maria, who has been with Ana El-Masry since its beginning.  She discussed that most of these children weren’t orphans, but rather children who were separated from their families, يتيم in Arabic, or at risk children.  She explained that the purpose was to develop the children, using a very flexible human developmental process.  Eventually children will be reunited with their families and with society as contributing members, not as dependents on food and clothing that is just given to them without work or effort.

Above all she emphasized that the children are the focus.  She explained that the lesson plans or the materials or lack thereof are not as important as the child and what you can give them.  “You are here, and so is the child; you are complete.”  She also told us to keep in mind that they are humans, at all times they are humans and they need our love. “Wake up. They are human beings and sometimes they just want something.”

Our Group at Ana El-Masry

Ana el-Masry’s message of hope, love and future through human development not handouts is truly inspiring and just makes me all the more excited to go tomorrow and start loving and teaching them! The children are precious and to not love them is مستحيل, or impossible!