Return to the Blogosphere!

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