So. I've been pretty awful with this blog thing. I've been sending a good amount of emails in its stead, but I'm ready for a return. I think I dropped it for a number of reasons, but mostly from a bout of sadness over the last month that made living and writing about Cairo, well, hard. Cairo became very real after about 2 months here, and it all hit me pretty fast. No worries though. I'm starting to really enjoy myself again, especially 5 am trips to the pyramids with friends that may just break a rule or two. (It's not that easy climbing the great Pyramid in the middle of the night, especially in dress shoes!) Anyway. I had a long talk with myself (and my mirror) after my return from Israel last week, and I decided that writing (at least for me) is a good antidote for more solitary moments, and I also do some really cool stuff here that I don't want to forget. So. Hope ya'll are jumping out of your seats. Here is a post I half-wrote on my trip back to the States exactly one month ago. I promise I won't have that many 'emotional' posts, but thought this one caught me in an interesting place. I'm also going to keep this blog more honest, which means less editing, a bit more cursing, and a wider range of posts. Hope everyone's well. Enjoy!
My cousin Rafi is a smart dude. After I returned abruptly from Brussels this summer, a number of family members wanted to check in to make sure I was alive, stable, and hadn't fallen off the deep-end. Rafi was among them, and over dinner at his cozy apartment in Brooklyn Rafi tried to explain to me the art of 'chilling out.' (Rafi is an avid meditator and recently completed a 24-hour meditation marathon; read all about it: http://empathetics.org/). Now, I'm fairly relaxed in general--I usually go with the flow and don't usually let little things bother me. But I also have a pretty intense side and have trouble getting out of my head sometimes--good for work ethic, not the best for travel alone and living in foreign countries. So when I asked my cuz how I might go about chilling out in more precarious environments where the unknown is a dominating force--read: Cairo--he responded simply: "Feelings reflect a temporary state. They don't really mean anything and they surely aren't permanent.' At the time I felt like he might as well have included a 'maaan' in there and passed some of the shit he was smoking. What does that mean, everything is temporary and doesn't really 'mean anything?' It sure as hell is real to me, and what's to say that it won't consume me (whatever 'it' is--anxiety, frustration, dread--all those good things) and put me in a real coop? Well, turns out he's right and really not smoking anything. I go from super high to serious low here, often on a daily basis. It always seems to be that time of month, but in the end its only temporary. I know that a momentary depression will pass, I know that a simple feeling of ecstasy with just 'how cool this experience really is' will turn to disgust when I'm sitting in my office on an early Sunday morning updating these fucking faculty roster profiles! But that's o.k. Because as I slowly learn how to cope with these emotional passes, I'm also learning more about myself, 'maturing' (slowly, don't worry), and also figuring out how to moderate the highs and lows better and find a stable equilibrium. Funny that it's taken me 22 years just to figure out that a temporary emotional state isn't the end-all-be-all. Alas. Life. Lessons. Below is a list (love them!) of things that drive me to these lows and highs. My next post will have more specifics on experiences over the past month, including a crazy trek down to the bazaar that made me reconsider my thoughts on Egyptian hospitality.
Highs:
(1) I won't mention the program by name--I'm pretty sure I signed a confidentiality agreement at some point--but I'm teaching English to Sudanese refugees (15-22 year-olds) in a poor community in Cairo. I mean really poor. I mean unpaved, garbage-filled streets, broken down old shanties as excuses for houses, little signs of development, and beggar galore. (I'll post some pictures soon). I teach refugees who have been living in Cairo for anywhere from a few months to a number of years; some have extended family here and others live with friends or other refugees--their families still live in Sudan or were killed in the genocidal violence over the last decade. Most of my students have very poor English skills and little control over basic mathematical skills, (most have trouble with multiplication and division, and forget about fractions--which I was originally supposed to teach them). All of this spells serious trouble for my students, most of whom have little opportunity to find work in Egypt as it is, and who have little change of emigrating and finding work elsewhere without a HS diploma or college degree.
So. On the one hand, the experience makes me so appreciative of what I have. And on the other hand, it makes me feel absolutely empowered. I like to talk a lot about affecting change and making a difference (me and Obama?), but until this experience, I've had some trouble in the 'effort' department. Watching a kid gradually grasp the way that multiplication works, or creating a game so that they can learn about their environment (clothing, objects in the room etc.) makes me feel alive and energetic. I leave that place every Sunday and Tuesday feeling so happy, and so on top of the world. I feel like I am actually making a small difference for the first time in my life. I'd recommend everyone try it sometime.
(2) Weird, ironic situations that make me shake my head, laugh, and remind myself that I'm living in Cairo, Egypt for the year. I went on a Falukah (motor-boat) ride on the Nile a few weekends ago with a group of Americans. It was '80's' themed, there was 'jungle juice' galore, and bouncing rap music. (Not sure what happened to the 80's theme?). Everyone was drinking, dancing, and occasionally stumbling--one person even fell in the Nile and may be growing a third eye now. It reminded me of a small frat party, just on a boat in the middle of the Nile, one of the most historic rivers in the history of the world and the water source for some of the greatest civilizations ever! I especially thought it was funny to watch some of my drunker compatriots pee off the side of the boat, as Egyptians from surrounding Falukah's looked on. American ambassadors at their finest! And we wonder why there are certain less-flattering perceptions of Americans in this part of the world! I just had to shake my head and laugh. The whole experience was too surreal to really define.
(3) My boss, Dr. Lisa Anderson, is incredible. (Wiki her, she's 'fo real') She's sweet, funny, articulate, a natural leader, and incredibly intelligence. I'm so happy to be working for her this year, and hopefully I'm going to be doing some policy writing for her. I'm now researching an article she wants to write on Palestinian statehood; she thinks the Palestinian cause, and fight for legitimacy and nationhood can provide real insight on the development of the state mechanism in the Arab world over the past few decades. We'll see where it goes. I'm just happy to be doing some work I'm actually interested in at work.
Lows:
(1) In the same token that working with my boss is a high, I really am not a fan of the majority of my job activities. I know, I know--sometimes work isn't fun and I should stop bitching--it's just hard to reconcile spending $200,000 at Cornell University so that I can update a faculty roster and plan conferences.
(2) I miss home a lot. I miss good food (Cairo cuisine is notoriously bad in the Middle East. In fact, one of the most famous dishes here is Koshary--a mixture of beans, lentils, onions, and noodles: in my opinion, basically leftovers. I miss Chinese food! I want a quesadilla! I actually brought back salsa from the States, along with some peppermint patties and some other goodies. I also miss the quiet of the suburbs, and the excitement of New York City. Zamalek, the 'suburb' in Cairo that I live in is always loud, (A permanent honking sound remains in my head here) and Cairo's nightlife doesn't compare to the bar/club scene in NYC at all.
(3) I really should have learned some Arabic before I ventured here. Only now am I finally putting in some effort to learn the language. I feel like I miss out on a lot of what is going on here because of the language barrier, and spend too much time in my English hub. It'd be great to have a real conversation with a cab driver, or engage someone I meet outside of elite, English-speaking AUC in Arabic instead of relying on his/her broken English.
(4) Male/Women relations in Egypt, and women's role in Egyptian society. I've blogged a bit about the issues I have with women's rights in Egypt, and the Muslim world at large. I just can't rationalize why women need to cover up when they leave their homes, or potentially face harassment, or just how secretive sexual relationships need to be here for fear of serious repercussions. It's something I don't understand, and don't really want to. I just don't think its right, and it bothers me on a daily basis.
Anyway. I'm tired of writing this post--sorry it's so long! The key is just going with the flow. They have a saying here, 'Malaish,' which essentially translates as 'what will be, will be.' I think that's the right approach, and while it's very different from the constant 'go' atmosphere I grew up in, I'm trying my best to adopt.
Salam,
Sam
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Riot in Cairo!
I know I haven't posted in a while (an intense update hitting your mailboxes soon?), but I have to get some quick thoughts out right now on one of my craziest nights in Cairo.
I just witnessed my first riot, a few blocks away from my hostel in Zamalek. Broken glass, flipped cars, police with shields and batons (and maybe rubber bullets?), and an enormous crowd of Egyptians, mixed in with the occasional intrigued foreigner, chanting frantically, lighting Algerian flags on fire, throwing the occasional rock in the direction of police, and mostly running around wildly. The chants wouldn't have made the protesters mothers' very happy; from what I could gather they ranged from "Fuck Algeria" to "Algerian women are whores" to "Algeria, Kus Emek," a derogatory term I learned in 5th grade Hebrew class.
Some quick background and then some points of interest. (It's 4:00 in the morning here, and I'm tired)
Algeria and Egypt played soccer or 'futbol' on Wednesday night in Sudan to decide who would represent Africa in the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. Egypt was not victorious, and lost the match 1-0. There has been bad blood between the Algerians and Egyptians for years--back in the early 90's, the Algerians roughed up a number of Egyptian fans after a game in Algeria and insulted the team players, and Egyptians did not take kindly to the offenses. Nearly two decades later, Egypt had a chance to avenge their pride, but after winning a game against Algeria last Saturday to advance to this 'deciding' game on Wednesday, Egypt came up short. Egyptians were absolutely appalled; I was shocked to see Egyptians openly crying in the streets, and a dead silence fell on Cairo after the game. I'm an avid sports fan, but this was something different: the futbol team was more than just a sports team for Egyptians, it was a source of real hope and pride in an otherwise downcast reality for so many Egyptians. When I asked an Egyptian friend of mine a few nights before the Wednesday game why so many Egyptians seems absolutely crazed about the upcoming game, he told me (in a bit of a drunken state, and perhaps because of that, I think--more frankly and truthfully) that Egyptians simply didn't have anything else to look forward to. "Our country is so fucked. The economy is in shambles. The government does nothing for the people. The people are depressed. But futbol and Egypt's team lets us forget all about that for a minute, and concentrate on something that makes us truly happy."
Wednesday night was quiet in Cairo; the looming silence before the storm. Thursday night brought on the storm, and Zamalek--where the Algerian Embassy is situated--found the eye of the storm. It was quite a spectacle, and I'll try to find and post pictures. There were at least 500 police officers at the Embassy alone, and after someone managed to hit the Embassy building with a rock, the police started closing off major intersections throughout Zamalek, (and maybe other neighborhoods?). I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow..
Some thoughts:
1. I find it fascinating to watch police-officers my age, with no training in riot-control, try to hold off groups of angry, violent protesters. I'm sure many of them sympathize with the protesters cause, (which I guess would be--"Fuck Algeria?"), and I just wonder what goes through their heads as the protesters approach them. Can't be too many happy thoughts...
2. No sign of government protests, or anything political. Guess this is purely a sports riot, which brings me to a larger question: what exactly is the meaning of these riots? Who or what is being rioted against? Egypt lost the match, fair and square. Is it simply a reflection of frustration with the outcome, or perhaps a representation of what Egyptians would like to do to Algerians? Or is there a deeper meaning--is the riot somewhat symbolic of anger with the state of society in Egypt today? It could also just be something to do on a Thursday night. I'm not sure I've ever rioted, but I've had my share of angry and (more-or-less) arbitrary moments which have culminated in violent actions... Perhaps it's a combination of all these factors.
3. I did not see a single women among the thousands of protesters on the streets. I'm going to write significantly more about the state of women in a separate post, but it's deeply upsetting to me that women cannot participate in protests, or for that matter--even attend futbol games for fear of being attacked. It's a depressing reality in Egypt, and is something I will never be able to look past in analyzing Egyptian culture.
Anyway, off to bed! Quite a night! There's always 2014 Egypt!
Some updates: (My analysis has been criticized by some more informed Egyptians)
My previous question: 'Why exactly are the Egyptians rioting,' became a bit more apparent as I read up on the topic and consulted some Egyptian friends. According to international news sources, Algerians protesters "attacked 15 offices belonging to a local subsidiary of Egypt's Orascom Telecom, and twice ransacked the Algiers offices of Egypt Air" (Yahoo Report). I was worried about the authenticity of some Egyptians news sources--emotions are running quite high here, news reporting isn't always the most objective science, and reports of Egyptians being stabbed to death after the game in Sudan seemed pretty extreme. But once the international community started reporting the violent aftermath of the game, I felt much more comfortable with the authenticity. Also, pictures of Egyptian buses returning from the game in Sudan are shocking. All the windows are shattered, the buses exteriors were dented and bruised by rocks, and there were a number of injured Egyptians--although the number is disputed.
Whatever the case, the Egyptian reaction makes more sense now--although why exactly they are destroying there own property remains a mystery to me?? Aren't there any Algerian symbols besides the Embassy? Or even better, how about promoting non-violent protests? (That might go a far way in showing more 'civility.' And with both sides screaming about the other country's "acts of barbarism," peaceful demonstrations sure would have made a lasting point.)
Anyway. I guess the riots make a bit more sense in light of these updates. I think I'm over the fascination of the riots by this point. At the end of the day, it's just a soccer/fubtol game, right?
Articles:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20091120/wl_africa_afp/egyptalgeriaunrest
http://thedailynewsegypt.com/article.aspx?ArticleID=25989
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/21/world/africa/21egypt.html?_r=1&src=tw
I just witnessed my first riot, a few blocks away from my hostel in Zamalek. Broken glass, flipped cars, police with shields and batons (and maybe rubber bullets?), and an enormous crowd of Egyptians, mixed in with the occasional intrigued foreigner, chanting frantically, lighting Algerian flags on fire, throwing the occasional rock in the direction of police, and mostly running around wildly. The chants wouldn't have made the protesters mothers' very happy; from what I could gather they ranged from "Fuck Algeria" to "Algerian women are whores" to "Algeria, Kus Emek," a derogatory term I learned in 5th grade Hebrew class.
Some quick background and then some points of interest. (It's 4:00 in the morning here, and I'm tired)
Algeria and Egypt played soccer or 'futbol' on Wednesday night in Sudan to decide who would represent Africa in the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. Egypt was not victorious, and lost the match 1-0. There has been bad blood between the Algerians and Egyptians for years--back in the early 90's, the Algerians roughed up a number of Egyptian fans after a game in Algeria and insulted the team players, and Egyptians did not take kindly to the offenses. Nearly two decades later, Egypt had a chance to avenge their pride, but after winning a game against Algeria last Saturday to advance to this 'deciding' game on Wednesday, Egypt came up short. Egyptians were absolutely appalled; I was shocked to see Egyptians openly crying in the streets, and a dead silence fell on Cairo after the game. I'm an avid sports fan, but this was something different: the futbol team was more than just a sports team for Egyptians, it was a source of real hope and pride in an otherwise downcast reality for so many Egyptians. When I asked an Egyptian friend of mine a few nights before the Wednesday game why so many Egyptians seems absolutely crazed about the upcoming game, he told me (in a bit of a drunken state, and perhaps because of that, I think--more frankly and truthfully) that Egyptians simply didn't have anything else to look forward to. "Our country is so fucked. The economy is in shambles. The government does nothing for the people. The people are depressed. But futbol and Egypt's team lets us forget all about that for a minute, and concentrate on something that makes us truly happy."
Wednesday night was quiet in Cairo; the looming silence before the storm. Thursday night brought on the storm, and Zamalek--where the Algerian Embassy is situated--found the eye of the storm. It was quite a spectacle, and I'll try to find and post pictures. There were at least 500 police officers at the Embassy alone, and after someone managed to hit the Embassy building with a rock, the police started closing off major intersections throughout Zamalek, (and maybe other neighborhoods?). I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow..
Some thoughts:
1. I find it fascinating to watch police-officers my age, with no training in riot-control, try to hold off groups of angry, violent protesters. I'm sure many of them sympathize with the protesters cause, (which I guess would be--"Fuck Algeria?"), and I just wonder what goes through their heads as the protesters approach them. Can't be too many happy thoughts...
2. No sign of government protests, or anything political. Guess this is purely a sports riot, which brings me to a larger question: what exactly is the meaning of these riots? Who or what is being rioted against? Egypt lost the match, fair and square. Is it simply a reflection of frustration with the outcome, or perhaps a representation of what Egyptians would like to do to Algerians? Or is there a deeper meaning--is the riot somewhat symbolic of anger with the state of society in Egypt today? It could also just be something to do on a Thursday night. I'm not sure I've ever rioted, but I've had my share of angry and (more-or-less) arbitrary moments which have culminated in violent actions... Perhaps it's a combination of all these factors.
3. I did not see a single women among the thousands of protesters on the streets. I'm going to write significantly more about the state of women in a separate post, but it's deeply upsetting to me that women cannot participate in protests, or for that matter--even attend futbol games for fear of being attacked. It's a depressing reality in Egypt, and is something I will never be able to look past in analyzing Egyptian culture.
Anyway, off to bed! Quite a night! There's always 2014 Egypt!
Some updates: (My analysis has been criticized by some more informed Egyptians)
My previous question: 'Why exactly are the Egyptians rioting,' became a bit more apparent as I read up on the topic and consulted some Egyptian friends. According to international news sources, Algerians protesters "attacked 15 offices belonging to a local subsidiary of Egypt's Orascom Telecom, and twice ransacked the Algiers offices of Egypt Air" (Yahoo Report). I was worried about the authenticity of some Egyptians news sources--emotions are running quite high here, news reporting isn't always the most objective science, and reports of Egyptians being stabbed to death after the game in Sudan seemed pretty extreme. But once the international community started reporting the violent aftermath of the game, I felt much more comfortable with the authenticity. Also, pictures of Egyptian buses returning from the game in Sudan are shocking. All the windows are shattered, the buses exteriors were dented and bruised by rocks, and there were a number of injured Egyptians--although the number is disputed.
Whatever the case, the Egyptian reaction makes more sense now--although why exactly they are destroying there own property remains a mystery to me?? Aren't there any Algerian symbols besides the Embassy? Or even better, how about promoting non-violent protests? (That might go a far way in showing more 'civility.' And with both sides screaming about the other country's "acts of barbarism," peaceful demonstrations sure would have made a lasting point.)
Anyway. I guess the riots make a bit more sense in light of these updates. I think I'm over the fascination of the riots by this point. At the end of the day, it's just a soccer/fubtol game, right?
Articles:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20091120/wl_africa_afp/egyptalgeriaunrest
http://thedailynewsegypt.com/article.aspx?ArticleID=25989
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/21/world/africa/21egypt.html?_r=1&src=tw
Monday, September 28, 2009
Not your biggest fan of the pyramids
I took a great picture during my second visit to the pyramids yesterday. It was with a disposable camera (my digital camera was covertly taken back to the States by my father after his visit to Cairo, unintentionally—or so he claims). I’ve been fielding some demands for pictures over the past few weeks. Sadly, ya’ll have to wait until I return to NJ in late November to retrieve my camera and take a quick break from the madness of Cairo.
The picture I have captures the new and old of Egypt, and something that I detest in-between. In the background is a classic picture of the three pyramids at Giza; their sheer size and history is overwhelming, and (at least in my first two times visiting), has left me speechless and shaking my head. How did they ever build this? Was it really the work of Jewish and other slaves? And I think my work is a pain sometimes.
In the picture, the pyramids tower over a group of tour buses, full of tourists eager to get a firsthand view of one of the ancient wonders of the world! And standing between this blend of the new and old, of the wonder and the wonderers (William Safire would be proud?), is a group of Egyptian ‘tour guides,’ small in the picture, but all too real and present in my trips to the pyramids. They are a group of vultures, Machiavellian animals, biding their time before swooping in on their prey, teeth bearing and hands ready to clench—in case a tourist might not be taken with their words. They all swear they are government employees, (“look at my plastic, outdated card—I am with the government!”) and promise that you are only allowed to see the pyramids under their watchful eye. Their lies are as prevalent as the stones upon which the pyramids were built thousands of years ago, and they are the reason that I hate visiting the pyramids.
It seems strange that I should get so worked up over some tourist harassment. Malash (‘whatever’), as the Egyptian saying goes, right? I am a tourist in a foreign land, and with that title come certain consequences. I’ve been used and abused by taxi drivers and local restaurants in Cairo in my first five weeks, and that doesn’t bother me particularly. What really gets at me, though, is the way that they look at me at the pyramids. They hate me, they detest me and what I represent, and I know it. I can read it in their body language, in their snarls and glares of reproach when I tell them (for the hundredth time) that I would not like to ride on their horse, or that I am not made of money—and cannot give 60 Egyptian pounds after being manipulated into taking a ‘free’ picture on a camel.
I wonder if they even like the pyramids. They sure don’t seem to know very much about them. My father and I were coerced into riding a man’s horses when we first visited the pyramids for 100 pounds (and later 500 pounds). Some nuggets of knowledge: did you know that parts of the Nile dried up because the Egyptians had to use so much water to build the pyramids? Or that the Pharaohs workers are buried in smaller rooms next to the pyramids? Yep. Neither did I, and neither does any real tour-guide or history book.
I know I seem spiteful, and I’m sure it doesn’t wear well on me. I also know I have trouble letting go sometimes, and maybe I just need to take a deep breath and laugh it off. I just hate when people hate me for no reason, when they despise me for a wealth I don’t really have or for a way of life I’m trying to let go of during my year abroad. It’s the pyramids! I know it’s hot and dry outside, but can’t you at least put on a friendly face?
I’ve been talking a lot about simplifications and misconceptions in this blog. It’s a topic that I’m interested in, and a theme that I am continuously drawn to here in Egypt. I’ll try not to harp on it too much, but I think that the pyramids offer the worst of these fake, touristy interactions. They are an ugly depiction of Egyptians at their worst, and foreigners are their most foreign. So onwards and upwards! To better, less touristy attractions where I don’t feel quite as hated.
A cautionary note to friends and family interested in visiting me this year. (You might have seen this one coming): you should see the pyramids, but I don't think I'm going to join.
The picture I have captures the new and old of Egypt, and something that I detest in-between. In the background is a classic picture of the three pyramids at Giza; their sheer size and history is overwhelming, and (at least in my first two times visiting), has left me speechless and shaking my head. How did they ever build this? Was it really the work of Jewish and other slaves? And I think my work is a pain sometimes.
In the picture, the pyramids tower over a group of tour buses, full of tourists eager to get a firsthand view of one of the ancient wonders of the world! And standing between this blend of the new and old, of the wonder and the wonderers (William Safire would be proud?), is a group of Egyptian ‘tour guides,’ small in the picture, but all too real and present in my trips to the pyramids. They are a group of vultures, Machiavellian animals, biding their time before swooping in on their prey, teeth bearing and hands ready to clench—in case a tourist might not be taken with their words. They all swear they are government employees, (“look at my plastic, outdated card—I am with the government!”) and promise that you are only allowed to see the pyramids under their watchful eye. Their lies are as prevalent as the stones upon which the pyramids were built thousands of years ago, and they are the reason that I hate visiting the pyramids.
It seems strange that I should get so worked up over some tourist harassment. Malash (‘whatever’), as the Egyptian saying goes, right? I am a tourist in a foreign land, and with that title come certain consequences. I’ve been used and abused by taxi drivers and local restaurants in Cairo in my first five weeks, and that doesn’t bother me particularly. What really gets at me, though, is the way that they look at me at the pyramids. They hate me, they detest me and what I represent, and I know it. I can read it in their body language, in their snarls and glares of reproach when I tell them (for the hundredth time) that I would not like to ride on their horse, or that I am not made of money—and cannot give 60 Egyptian pounds after being manipulated into taking a ‘free’ picture on a camel.
I wonder if they even like the pyramids. They sure don’t seem to know very much about them. My father and I were coerced into riding a man’s horses when we first visited the pyramids for 100 pounds (and later 500 pounds). Some nuggets of knowledge: did you know that parts of the Nile dried up because the Egyptians had to use so much water to build the pyramids? Or that the Pharaohs workers are buried in smaller rooms next to the pyramids? Yep. Neither did I, and neither does any real tour-guide or history book.
I know I seem spiteful, and I’m sure it doesn’t wear well on me. I also know I have trouble letting go sometimes, and maybe I just need to take a deep breath and laugh it off. I just hate when people hate me for no reason, when they despise me for a wealth I don’t really have or for a way of life I’m trying to let go of during my year abroad. It’s the pyramids! I know it’s hot and dry outside, but can’t you at least put on a friendly face?
I’ve been talking a lot about simplifications and misconceptions in this blog. It’s a topic that I’m interested in, and a theme that I am continuously drawn to here in Egypt. I’ll try not to harp on it too much, but I think that the pyramids offer the worst of these fake, touristy interactions. They are an ugly depiction of Egyptians at their worst, and foreigners are their most foreign. So onwards and upwards! To better, less touristy attractions where I don’t feel quite as hated.
A cautionary note to friends and family interested in visiting me this year. (You might have seen this one coming): you should see the pyramids, but I don't think I'm going to join.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
First month in Cairo!
Cairo! Dahab! I’ve been in Egypt for nearly a month now. Some low points and moments of puzzlement to be sure: (what am I doing here again??). But also some real high points. I find the diversity of people living or traveling in Egypt fascinating. Just this past week I spent time with a linguistics professor at AUC who grew up in the bustling Saudi Arabian oil business and was traveling to Sri Lanka this weekend to compete in an international tennis competition; I met a recent college graduate from Dutch University who has been traveling the world for the last year, and plans to continue traveling for the foreseeable future, and I caught up with National Geographic’s point-man in Egypt. And me? Well I’m just a lowly intern—although I am starting to teach English to Sudanese refugees next week through a program called Youth Lead. I haven’t posted in a while, so this will be a bit of a catch-up post. Below are some thoughts on my first month (did I mention I like lists?)
1. I’m reconsidering my career path. You know, the one where I work for a year or two in D.C after this year, head back to grad school for a masters or PhD in Middle East studies and become a renowned diplomat who (just might) bring peace to the Middle East. Think my doubts were first sparked by the leading headline in AUC’s student newspaper last week. “Student body agrees. Israel has no right to exist.” And I thought AUC was the elite 2%, moderate fringe of Egyptian society??
2. We truly live in an interconnected, global age where technology reigns supreme. Some examples: A friend of mine from Nigeria, after watching an episode of the (god-awful) ABC family show Greek asked me if college life was really like this in the States. (To which I replied, sadly but truthfully, that not everyone in college was really 23 or 24 and gorgeous). In a cab ride last week I rocked out to ‘Stairway to Heaven’ (the greatest song ever) with my Egyptian driver, who then offered me a Marlboro cigarette and some Egyptian candy. In Dahab this past weekend, (more on this trip in my next post), Dave Matthews and Jack Johnson tunes filled the local shops and restaurants and made me yearn for my long-lost collegiate years. In a club in Dahab, I played pool with a young Bedouin who let me win the first game, and then took my money in our second game. I was pleasantly surprised by the hustle—the Bedouin Tom Cruise? Guess the “Color of Money” is still green in Egypt. And then on the bus ride back from Dahab I watched Anaconda III, starring David Haselhoff and a giant snake that eats everything and everyone. All that was missing was Pamela Anderson and maybe a single foreigner on the bus who seemed pleased with the choice of movie!
The point I’m trying to make, I guess, is that the effects of globalization make for an interesting divide in the Egypt I’ve encountered over my first month. On the one hand, they mask differences between people and help establish a common ground. I remember feeling a real surge of excitement singing ‘Stairway to Heaven’ with my cab driver, and seeing him smile and laugh. I don’t think we’ll stay in touch, (no planned coffee date yet), but for those 5 minutes, we overcame a cultural and language barrier, and shared something that was produced more than three decades ago. I think that’s pretty cool.
On the other hand, I think these superficial similarities carry some negative connotations. It may not be the most ample example—but seeing pre-stocked frozen chicken cutlets filled with hotdog meat and cheese in my freezer made me wonder what perceptions Egyptians have of American eating-habits. All Americans love cheeseburgers and hotdogs, I guess the rationale goes. So why not mesh together Americans favorite ingredients in one delicious chicken cutlet? Or consider this political example. In the marketplace last week, Egyptian storeowners beckoned my black friend into their store by calling out to him “Brother Obama! Brother Obama, we love you!” I don’t think there was any racist undertone there—I just think that like the tasty chicken/hot-dog/cheese cutlets, this was another cultural simplification: “He’s American and black. Clearly he’s a supporter of Barack Obama—perhaps even a brother of sorts.”
I just find these generalities and oversimplifications fascinating. I’m not sure what to make of them yet—just trying to take it all in. I’m sure they’re inevitable—‘tis human nature to rush to judgments. But I think the onset of new technologies has made these generalities all the more present in our lives.
Anyway! I’m off to Alexandria on an intern trip in 10 minutes, then to the pyramids on Saturday! (Tough life!). I’ll write more soon.
1. I’m reconsidering my career path. You know, the one where I work for a year or two in D.C after this year, head back to grad school for a masters or PhD in Middle East studies and become a renowned diplomat who (just might) bring peace to the Middle East. Think my doubts were first sparked by the leading headline in AUC’s student newspaper last week. “Student body agrees. Israel has no right to exist.” And I thought AUC was the elite 2%, moderate fringe of Egyptian society??
2. We truly live in an interconnected, global age where technology reigns supreme. Some examples: A friend of mine from Nigeria, after watching an episode of the (god-awful) ABC family show Greek asked me if college life was really like this in the States. (To which I replied, sadly but truthfully, that not everyone in college was really 23 or 24 and gorgeous). In a cab ride last week I rocked out to ‘Stairway to Heaven’ (the greatest song ever) with my Egyptian driver, who then offered me a Marlboro cigarette and some Egyptian candy. In Dahab this past weekend, (more on this trip in my next post), Dave Matthews and Jack Johnson tunes filled the local shops and restaurants and made me yearn for my long-lost collegiate years. In a club in Dahab, I played pool with a young Bedouin who let me win the first game, and then took my money in our second game. I was pleasantly surprised by the hustle—the Bedouin Tom Cruise? Guess the “Color of Money” is still green in Egypt. And then on the bus ride back from Dahab I watched Anaconda III, starring David Haselhoff and a giant snake that eats everything and everyone. All that was missing was Pamela Anderson and maybe a single foreigner on the bus who seemed pleased with the choice of movie!
The point I’m trying to make, I guess, is that the effects of globalization make for an interesting divide in the Egypt I’ve encountered over my first month. On the one hand, they mask differences between people and help establish a common ground. I remember feeling a real surge of excitement singing ‘Stairway to Heaven’ with my cab driver, and seeing him smile and laugh. I don’t think we’ll stay in touch, (no planned coffee date yet), but for those 5 minutes, we overcame a cultural and language barrier, and shared something that was produced more than three decades ago. I think that’s pretty cool.
On the other hand, I think these superficial similarities carry some negative connotations. It may not be the most ample example—but seeing pre-stocked frozen chicken cutlets filled with hotdog meat and cheese in my freezer made me wonder what perceptions Egyptians have of American eating-habits. All Americans love cheeseburgers and hotdogs, I guess the rationale goes. So why not mesh together Americans favorite ingredients in one delicious chicken cutlet? Or consider this political example. In the marketplace last week, Egyptian storeowners beckoned my black friend into their store by calling out to him “Brother Obama! Brother Obama, we love you!” I don’t think there was any racist undertone there—I just think that like the tasty chicken/hot-dog/cheese cutlets, this was another cultural simplification: “He’s American and black. Clearly he’s a supporter of Barack Obama—perhaps even a brother of sorts.”
I just find these generalities and oversimplifications fascinating. I’m not sure what to make of them yet—just trying to take it all in. I’m sure they’re inevitable—‘tis human nature to rush to judgments. But I think the onset of new technologies has made these generalities all the more present in our lives.
Anyway! I’m off to Alexandria on an intern trip in 10 minutes, then to the pyramids on Saturday! (Tough life!). I’ll write more soon.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Oh Right, I’m Living in Cairo
My first night in Cairo, a group of interns on my program, our surrogate mother and intern-coordinator extraordinaire Rowaida, my father, and I headed down to Cairo’s most popular bazaar, Khan al-Khalili, a market renowned for its crowds and vast displays of, well, everything: from ‘special’ intimacy products (knock-off Viagra anybody?), to shiny (and sometimes fake) jewelry, fruits, vegetables, and the appealing aromas of dead animals hanging from storefronts, Khan a-Khalili is alluring to be sure but also has an intimidating feel about it. “Don’t come here at night. It’s too crazy,” Rowaida warned me and my fellow interns as we entered the Bazaar.
It’s Ramadan now, which means a few things in Cairo. Muslims are forbidden to eat or drink during the month of Ramadan, (this year stretching from the 21st of August to the 19th of September), and wait anxiously for Iftar, the nightly break-fast around 6PM. At Iftar the city literally closes down; a usually bustling Cairo grows quiet, the constant beat of car-horns dissipate, and traffic pulls to a lull as families settle down to eat and shop-owners sit together outside, where they break the fast in unison.
And then, as quickly and suddenly as the city closes down, it explodes again. Storefronts reopen and stay open until 3 or 4 in the morning, people burst out into the street with newfound energy, traffic reemerges, and Cairo becomes Cairo again.
It was in this atmosphere, around 7:00 P.M, that we entered the bazaar—weary from a long flight but also excited to experience some real Egyptian culture on our first night in a new city and country.
And we did, but not in a way that I was really prepared for. My first image of Egypt, and one that still creeps into my memory a week later, is of a girl—no older than my 15 year-old sister—being smacked in the face and dragged across a street by her hair by none other than a police officer.
The whole scene was pretty shocking, and one that I couldn’t take my eyes off, despite Rowaida’s best efforts to distract us and keep us moving in the right direction. Perhaps the most striking image was watching the girl’s mother come to her defense, putting herself between the girl and officer and begging him to stop—only to be smacked in the face herself! And the people beside the girl, quietly watching or going about their business, either too scared or too used to watching this type of display. When I later asked Rowaida about the incident, she told me that from what she could infer, the girl had stolen something from a store-owner and was being reprimanded for her heinous crimes. Quite a punishment! A stern warning, or even a trip down to the police-station might suffice. But a public beating, with a bloody nose and a stream of tears to show? Perhaps the girl did steal. And perhaps she learned her lesson. But for a sheltered kid from east-coast suburbia, this was something new and entirely shocking.
Welcome to Cairo, I guess. Here’s to hoping the next new experience is a bit less troubling.
It’s Ramadan now, which means a few things in Cairo. Muslims are forbidden to eat or drink during the month of Ramadan, (this year stretching from the 21st of August to the 19th of September), and wait anxiously for Iftar, the nightly break-fast around 6PM. At Iftar the city literally closes down; a usually bustling Cairo grows quiet, the constant beat of car-horns dissipate, and traffic pulls to a lull as families settle down to eat and shop-owners sit together outside, where they break the fast in unison.
And then, as quickly and suddenly as the city closes down, it explodes again. Storefronts reopen and stay open until 3 or 4 in the morning, people burst out into the street with newfound energy, traffic reemerges, and Cairo becomes Cairo again.
It was in this atmosphere, around 7:00 P.M, that we entered the bazaar—weary from a long flight but also excited to experience some real Egyptian culture on our first night in a new city and country.
And we did, but not in a way that I was really prepared for. My first image of Egypt, and one that still creeps into my memory a week later, is of a girl—no older than my 15 year-old sister—being smacked in the face and dragged across a street by her hair by none other than a police officer.
The whole scene was pretty shocking, and one that I couldn’t take my eyes off, despite Rowaida’s best efforts to distract us and keep us moving in the right direction. Perhaps the most striking image was watching the girl’s mother come to her defense, putting herself between the girl and officer and begging him to stop—only to be smacked in the face herself! And the people beside the girl, quietly watching or going about their business, either too scared or too used to watching this type of display. When I later asked Rowaida about the incident, she told me that from what she could infer, the girl had stolen something from a store-owner and was being reprimanded for her heinous crimes. Quite a punishment! A stern warning, or even a trip down to the police-station might suffice. But a public beating, with a bloody nose and a stream of tears to show? Perhaps the girl did steal. And perhaps she learned her lesson. But for a sheltered kid from east-coast suburbia, this was something new and entirely shocking.
Welcome to Cairo, I guess. Here’s to hoping the next new experience is a bit less troubling.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Two Egypt's
I was never really a fan of John Edwards. But I did like his ‘two-America’ speech, at least the first or second time I heard it during election season in 2004. It was a populist speech, one common throughout American history, but new to a 17-year old kid who knew little about red and blue states, who had never really considered the complex interplays between upper-class and middle America.
John Edwards political career is over now. He has a cancerous affair and expensive haircut to thank for that. But his speech lives on, and my first week in Cairo, Egypt brought it back into my memory with force. I am worried that my year abroad is going to be defined in large part by the ‘two-Egypt’s:’ the top tier of society—the elitist, richest 2% of Egypt, on full display at the American University’s beautiful new campus in New Cairo, where popped collars and American designer clothing abound, and the main library and administrative buildings rival Ivy League institutions in the States. And the other side of Egypt—the poorer, third-world class society, the Egypt without blackberries, health insurance plans, or even a decent meal to eat, where children and adults live in dirty shacks and small apartments, have limited access to education, and little hope for a better future. The Egypt that I saw with my father on a back-road tour of the pyramids with our sketchy tour-guide who was more interested in bringing us to his friends’ stores than giving us a real tour of the pyramids. Sure, the sphinx and pyramids are stunning to look at, but for someone more interested in people and culture then physical beauty, it was the piles of garbage lining the fences that lead to the pyramids, and the pregnant dog and little child searching helplessly for some scraps of food that really made my heart beat. It is a part of Egyptian society that I am mostly interested in getting to know peripherally, and on occasion more directly—perhaps through some form of community service—but I still want to see it and learn more about it. And at the new AUC, an oasis of riches in the middle of the desert, that other Egypt could not be farther from face or mind.
In Zamalek, as well, there is a sense of separation. Zamalek is an island in the middle of Cairo, where the streets are busy and cab horns and Arabic music fill the nightly air. But it is also a well-off community, full with expats, known for its embassies, and until the 1952 Egyptian revolution—exclusively home to British citizens and the most elite Egyptians. For me, as I complete my first week in Cairo, living in the Zamalek and AUC communities has been an easier transition. I feel as comfortable at AUC as an American Jew probably can feel in Egypt. But comfort is not something that I want this entire year to be marked by. I want to be shocked; I want to be thrilled, depressed, and angry at the same time. I want to really get some idea of what it’s like for 95% of the population to live in Egypt.
Maybe this is all fanciful talk. When’s the last time I visited Harlem or spent some quality time in the projects? But at least I know they exist. At least I’ve worked nearby, or know some people from some of the poorer neighborhoods in the States. At the new American University in Cairo, you wouldn’t even know you were in Egypt.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Live, from somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, Sam's going to Egypt!
Ah. Where to begin. Well, I think this journey began 2 1/2 years ago, as a sophomore at Cornell University, nearly 200 feet above the ground--locked in the silent, almost deafening abyss of the 7th floor stacks. Finals time; not the best, brightest time of year, especially in snowy Ithaca in December.
Most of the those nights are now a whirlwind of a memory--studying, eating, stressing. But one conversation with my parents' during that finals period sticks out in my mind. "I want to do something cool," I remember whining to my unsympathetic parents (who were half-way through spending nearly 180,000 for this "uncool" experience). "I'm tired of sitting around and just reading about history and politics. Enough with the sidelines. I want to experience something challenging. I want to do something different that will really test my mettle. How else will I ever know what I'm made of?"
I may not have been so articulate that night, but I meant something along those lines. The question was--where? Where exactly did I want to go on this adventure, and for what purpose? It's one thing to be gun-ho about traveling and down for something new, but it's also pretty important to have a reason. This summer I was in Brussels on a fellowship working for the Transatlantic Institute, a policy center that focuses on relations between the European Union and Israel. I came home 8 days later. "What the hell happened?" my parents asked. "Where's your responsibility, your commitment? You can't do things like this!"
You can, and I did--even if it wasn't the best way of handling a poor situation. But I left mostly because I was missing that purpose. The idea of Brussels was exciting. Traveling abroad, weekend-tripping through Europe. Awesome! Maybe. Just not this summer. I'm not very interested in European politics or culture, and could care less about the inner-workings of the European Union (sorry!). I wanted to be in the real action, or at least close to it. I wanted to be in the Middle East.
Some of my friends having a running bet about this year. "So, I'll see you in a few weeks?" someone joked a few days ago as I was bidding my farewells. "I got $30 you're home by October," another friend texted me.
Egypt's going to be different. Sure, I'm anxious about spending a year in a city, Cairo, that I don't know much about, and I am nervous that the language and cultural barriers will be difficult to surmount. But I also really want to be in Egypt. I studied abroad at Hebrew University my junior year of college, and wrote an honors thesis on Iran and U.S. Foreign Policy over the past half-century this last year. I'm considering seriously a career in Middle East politics and affairs, and need some experience on the ground before pursuing a further degree or job in the field. I need to know that this is something that I'm seriously passionate about. And there's really only one way to find out. Live it. What better place to start than in Cairo, a bustling city that is a cultural and political center of the Arab world?
So there you go. It may not be the most flushed out analysis, but it's a start.
Quickly. What I'll be doing over the next 10 months: I landed a fellowship with the American University in Cairo (it's called the Presidential Internship Program). I'll be working for the provost, Dr. Lisa Anderson, learning Arabic, and pursuing my own research project on how Egyptians from my generation perceive U.S. foreign policy in the region. How's that for generalities?? (I'll flush this all out as I learn more). But on its face, I'd say this year has the chance to be pretty damn exciting.
So stay tuned, and stop betting against me (!). I'm staying for the year, and posting all about it.
Most of the those nights are now a whirlwind of a memory--studying, eating, stressing. But one conversation with my parents' during that finals period sticks out in my mind. "I want to do something cool," I remember whining to my unsympathetic parents (who were half-way through spending nearly 180,000 for this "uncool" experience). "I'm tired of sitting around and just reading about history and politics. Enough with the sidelines. I want to experience something challenging. I want to do something different that will really test my mettle. How else will I ever know what I'm made of?"
I may not have been so articulate that night, but I meant something along those lines. The question was--where? Where exactly did I want to go on this adventure, and for what purpose? It's one thing to be gun-ho about traveling and down for something new, but it's also pretty important to have a reason. This summer I was in Brussels on a fellowship working for the Transatlantic Institute, a policy center that focuses on relations between the European Union and Israel. I came home 8 days later. "What the hell happened?" my parents asked. "Where's your responsibility, your commitment? You can't do things like this!"
You can, and I did--even if it wasn't the best way of handling a poor situation. But I left mostly because I was missing that purpose. The idea of Brussels was exciting. Traveling abroad, weekend-tripping through Europe. Awesome! Maybe. Just not this summer. I'm not very interested in European politics or culture, and could care less about the inner-workings of the European Union (sorry!). I wanted to be in the real action, or at least close to it. I wanted to be in the Middle East.
Some of my friends having a running bet about this year. "So, I'll see you in a few weeks?" someone joked a few days ago as I was bidding my farewells. "I got $30 you're home by October," another friend texted me.
Egypt's going to be different. Sure, I'm anxious about spending a year in a city, Cairo, that I don't know much about, and I am nervous that the language and cultural barriers will be difficult to surmount. But I also really want to be in Egypt. I studied abroad at Hebrew University my junior year of college, and wrote an honors thesis on Iran and U.S. Foreign Policy over the past half-century this last year. I'm considering seriously a career in Middle East politics and affairs, and need some experience on the ground before pursuing a further degree or job in the field. I need to know that this is something that I'm seriously passionate about. And there's really only one way to find out. Live it. What better place to start than in Cairo, a bustling city that is a cultural and political center of the Arab world?
So there you go. It may not be the most flushed out analysis, but it's a start.
Quickly. What I'll be doing over the next 10 months: I landed a fellowship with the American University in Cairo (it's called the Presidential Internship Program). I'll be working for the provost, Dr. Lisa Anderson, learning Arabic, and pursuing my own research project on how Egyptians from my generation perceive U.S. foreign policy in the region. How's that for generalities?? (I'll flush this all out as I learn more). But on its face, I'd say this year has the chance to be pretty damn exciting.
So stay tuned, and stop betting against me (!). I'm staying for the year, and posting all about it.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
