Don't Ask Don't Tell

I applaud America for taking a firm step in the right direction and repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell. There is however another DADT policy firmly in place here in Egypt. This one however has nothing to do with gays and lesbians in the military. This is about something else entirely. My 12th graders and I were finishing our unit on war. We had read the Iliad and were entertaining some discussion on more modern wars. During this discussion my students asked me if I knew about the October 6th War. The Ramadan War (or as the West knows it the Yom Kippur War) was fought between Israel and Egypt and Syria in 1973. While Israel suffered an initial setback, history acknowledges Israel as the victor in the end. Egypt however maintains a different story. Here there are bridges with the war's namesake along with panoramas and history books dedicated to the version in which Egypt is the mighty victor. My students, smiling with pride and patriotism, asked if I knew of this war, the war in which Egypt triumphed over Israel (they first said 'Americans' but I politely reminded them that there was a difference.) Observing the pride they had for their country in that moment, and keeping job security in mind, I had no choice but to smile and nod and say yes, I did know about that war. They seemed pleased and one student added, "good, I hate Israel." Though I was tempted to discuss the truth with them, Egypt requires its guests to abide by one guideline. When it comes to the October 6th War it's best if you don't ask, and however skewed it may seem, please don't tell.

Friends

Transcend

Why yes, sometimes it is awkward teaching American literature in Egypt, especially when the textbook is written by Americans for Americans. As I read aloud in class I am very aware of how often I say the word 'America' and the pause I make before I read and/or adjust the word 'we' or the word 'here.' Often times I feel I sound like I'm trumpeting foreign values to Egyptian students for no apparent reason, with the effect of coming off as a pro-American, culturally insensitive, and ultimately out-of-touch dummy. But sometimes, just sometimes, there is a particularly American topic that the students can relate to or at least debate. We encountered one of these topics yesterday when we began our unit on transcendentalism.
The book actually had a nice introduction to what is ultimately a tricky concept to grasp. Several paragraphs led us through Emerson's conclusions that the individual should be more powerful than any government institution. Also included was an acknowledgment of Amos Alcott's work to revolutionize the American school system. Alcott believed that students shouldn't be taught on rote memorization. Instead, they should be taught to think critically, discuss, debate, and question everything around them. I paused here in my reading and asked the students to consider this for a moment. Here is a movement begun in 1830's America by one man. Yet now, centuries later, his work and the work of his followers is having a profound effect on their own lives. Thanks to Alcott, I was raised in a school system based on critical thinking. Therefore, this is what I teach now in my classrooms in Egypt. However unlikely, my students have been personally affected by the transcendentalist movement. What was perhaps most interesting was the debate that ensued after I posed the questions at the end of the selection. Again, this being an American textbook the questions asked American students to consider a) Do government institutions or do individuals hold more power in 'our' society? b) Can individuals make a difference in 'our' society? c) Should individuals hold more power 'here' than they do? Now, applying these questions to Egypt yields some fascinating results. Each class agreed instantly that government institutions hold all the power here in Egypt, that's no secret. What I found fascinating was that after some debate and discussion, my two classes came to two separate conclusions. One class believed that if the government could enforce laws appropriately, that power should continue to reside in government. The other class argued that capable or not, the government should remain solely representative of the people and therefore the individual should be given more power. Personally, I was pleased just to create a forum where these students could think for themselves, question the status quo, and ultimately make a solid argument.
At the end of class I read them a paragraph written by an author who had read Emerson in high school. He was 16 at the time, same age as my students, and transcendentalism had a strong impact on him. He thanked Emerson for allowing him to embrace the power we all have to be free-thinkers, to question injustices, and ultimately follow our own paths, whether or not the "in crowd" approved. I told the students that I couldn't promise these essays would have the same impact on them, but that we would pick up here next week.

Speak no evil

As an international affairs major I imagine that the insight I am about to share should have dawned on me earlier, but thanks to recent events it has just now become clear to me. Countries and their governments are a lot like people. They have egos, they're easily offended, they break laws. Given the latest WikiLeaks scandal it was interesting to see world leaders and sometimes countries described in the same way you might describe guests at a party. Some of these character quirks are endearing... Sarkozy likes things done a certain way... shocking. But other governments' behavior is less than charming.
A couple months ago I gave my students an extra credit assignment. They had to research who was awarded this year's Nobel Peace Prize and why. I explained to them the significance of this and that the winner, Liu Xiaobo, would not be able to attend the award ceremony and accept his prize. They were very surprised and all felt that this was indeed an injustice. I explained that one of the reasons I had them look up this information online was to demonstrate that they had the ability to do this and that the information existed. I told them their Chinese counterparts, had they even known to google Xiaobo's name, would have come up with nothing.
Yesterday I read the New York Times article describing the ceremony and China's reaction to the Nobel Committee's decision. The article described how China was seething with anger, just like a teenage girl scorned. Though unlike a high school mean girl, the results of China's actions are much more serious. The country went on a propaganda-spree and painted the award and its committee as devious tools of the West. The Chinese government went door to door pressuring its friends to err on their side and not go to the party... er ceremony. Careful not to offend the rising power too much, Obama mentioned his appreciation for the country's ability to lift millions out of poverty but then warned that they had a lot more work to do when it came to human rights.
Interestingly enough, I was planning to share this follow-up article with my classes (mainly also to demonstrate that news can be interesting and it is worth following) until I got to a paragraph towards the end. The article specifically called out Egypt. Egypt was named as one of the countries boycotting the ceremony at China's request. Reason being, that though the nation is considered to be a Western ally, just like China, the Egyptian government enjoys centralized power and crushes any dissent it manages to hear over the traffic.
This posed a problem for me because I wanted my students to think about the situation for themselves. I wanted them to feel like they had the space and perspective to form an opinion, and not be forced to defend their government along the way. If I do share the article with them, I will share an edited version.
Regardless, while at times amusing, it is concerning that world affairs is often shaped by bruised egos, vindictive ventures, and personal agendas. But just like people, countries have the ability to rise above school yard behavior. Ironically, those countries who in the past few months have demonstrated behavior unbecoming of a 12 year-old (cough, China), would do well to keep in mind the words of Liu Xiaobo: "Hatred is corrosive of a person’s wisdom and conscience; the mentality of enmity can poison a nation’s spirit, instigate brutal life and death struggles, destroy a society’s tolerance and humanity, and block a nation’s progress to freedom and democracy. I hope therefore to be able to transcend my personal vicissitudes in understanding the development of the state and changes in society, to counter the hostility of the regime with the best of intentions, and defuse hate with love."

I learned a latke

In the interest of keeping traditions alive, I decided to make homemade latkes. It turns out that making latkes is a lot like living life, in that some of the lessons learned along the way are awfully similar. You see latke making is all about learning from your mistakes, internalizing the lessons, and adapting to become more successful. In the beginning you are sure you have all the answers. Then you encounter some bumps along the way (gah they won't stick together!), then by the end (sometimes too late) you learn the secret (more egg than you think.) In the end you reflect back on the experience wishing you knew in the beginning what you know now. You accept of course that the process was something you had to go through, and that you are ultimately a stronger, wiser person for it.

Happy Hannukah all.

The best show in town

It's election day here in Egypt, citizens will vote to determine a new Parliament. Already you see I've gotten ahead of myself. It's a bit of a stretch I've learned to say "citizens will vote" and "new." I was speaking with some of my Egyptian friends the other day, and they informed me that unless you work in the government and are bussed to the polling stations (where you are instructed to vote for the ruling party) most Egyptians don't vote. As my friend asked, "what's the use?" Egyptian citizens are aware of the widespread fraud and corruption, so much so that they don't see their vote as making a difference. Another friend described incidents of election officials opening polls in the morning and finding that some of the ballot boxes were already full, even before voting began. These episodes of fraud led to the invention of clear ballot boxes, but such effort was in vain. Once these clear boxes were transported in cars and vans, the ballots would be switched out en route to headquarters.
These are only examples of course of election day incidents. The real disenfranchisement begins much earlier, when opposition candidates try to enter the race. As one article written by media expert and Georgetown University lecturer Adel Iskandar explains, "Not only are most alternatives to the ruling National Democratic Party (NDP) too embattled to compete on a level playing field, the field itself is rife with obstacles for any party hoping to contest the NDP’s hegemony." All of this contributes to the public's wariness of elections. Like an unfortunate Oreo, it appears democratic on the outside, lawless on the inside - leading of course to a crisis of legitimacy, "In Egypt, efforts to persuade the public into believing their elections on 28 November will be competitive and representative have fallen completely flat." Perhaps the most frustrating aspect in all this though, is how much it's people need the Egyptian government to step up to the plate for them.
Poverty and hunger are widespread. Egypt just celebrated a rather meager Eid, in which many families could not afford the traditional feast. In fact, "some candidates have been wooing supporters by offering them meat." Water and electricity (as evidenced by weekly blackouts) are also urgent problems. Additionally, the gap between rich and poor grows ever wider. Economic progress has for now only benefited the "cadre of wealthy elite" while the masses are left wanting. Without any hope for systematic improvements to the quality of life, and a gross lack of legitimacy, the elections become simply a show, and a rerun at that. The elections are now "a tired and redundant replay of a less than captivating classic film, where the “protagonist” always prevails unanimously." Though many argue that financial and economic indicators highlight a positive trend, the masses have only seen their cost of living rise. If real progress in Egypt is to be made, "it is time we see past the glossy trailer and watch the grainy gritty full feature. "

[Al Masry Al Youm, 11/28]

The bird itself

Ex-patriotic Thanksgiving

My friend and I were discussing the peculiarities in what products are available here in Cairo, and what products are not. Surprisingly, sometimes you can find the exact name brand product you're accustomed to. (The other day I happened upon PopSecret Homestyle microwave popcorn. For those of you familiar with my enthusiasm for this product, you can imagine my dismay as I was forced to leave it on the shelf due to lack of microwave.) Yet, despite a few shockingly familiar items, there are conversely products you would assume to find but simply cannot. Here's looking at you celery. As Dale and I began our preparations for our Thanksgiving party, we were interested to see in to which category turkey would fall.
Turns out procuring a turkey was easier than expected. All it took was a large grocery store, the manager, some miming, and some time spent digging around in the back. Eventually however, two frozen turkeys were produced. (This is very much a chicken, beef and lamb country. Turkey can be a rare find.) After bringing the turkeys home we wrapped them in garbage bags and left them on our kitchen floor to thaw. Beaming with delight for securing the main ingredient for the weekend's festivities, our smiles soon faded when we addressed the issue of actually cooking these oh-so-large birds.
For days we did research on where to have the turkeys cooked. (Our oven was not a possibility as it resembles something Barbie might use.) We called some hotels, and they were willing to cook them but for a fairly steep price. Some friends offered their ovens but then realized transporting hot turkeys across town was not worth it. Finally, one day our Egyptian colleague gave us the name of "the chef." He said you can just take the birds there and he will cook them for you no problem. So we called and "the chef" told us to come by, no problem.
The day came when we were to drop off the turkeys to this mysterious culinary professional. Armed with some vague details and a hand drawn map of the supposed intersection we needed, we set off in a taxi carrying the turkeys, still in their trash bags, in our arms. (This would be a good time to tell you the turkeys weighed 10 kilos each.) So off we went until our cab driver finally stopped and informed us we were here.
We exited the taxi and found the landmark our colleague had described to us. Only there was one problem, there was no personal chef looking business anywhere to be found. So there we were, on the street carrying around turkeys in trash bags looking desperately for any clues of this magical chef. We wandered about for a bit and asked a few people for street names. A man gave us a few more directions and we followed those, then I asked another woman for more information and she directed me to continue down the street. We were coming to the end of the road when finally I saw the sign for the chef. "The chef!" I cried, "we're here!"
All of the sudden a man in a business suit comes running out and grabs both turkeys from us. "The chef?" he asks, "yes" I said, and the man goes trotting off up the stairs. Curious, we follow him in to a meeting room, one you might expect to see the mob use. The man instructs us to sit down and immediately begins writing us a receipt. "Rice?" Surprised by the question I just said "sure, rice." He is pleased with this response and continues writing furiously. "How many people?" I ask him why that would matter, he still would have to cook both turkeys. He says, "because of the rice!" Ok, 20 people. We left with the assurance that both our turkey and our rice would be finished and delivered by 10 am the next morning. As we walked down the street empty handed, a strange feeling of victory (albeit peppered with some doubt) overcame us.
The next day, for the first time in Egyptian history, our food arrived on time. The delivery man came in with two beautiful platters of turkey over a bed of Persian rice (yellow rice with raisins and nuts.) We were thrilled.
What ensued was a lovely afternoon-turned evening Thanksgiving celebration. There were mainly Americans in attendance but also Egyptians who had never celebrated the holiday before. We were pleased to introduce them to what I count as my favorite holiday. The historical injustice acknowledged, I do believe that today Thanksgiving offers the country a nice moment to pause and be with friends and family and remember that despite myriad challenges, we are in many ways very blessed.

Freedom of expression

These are a couple pictures taken from inside the Palestinian refugee camp. The first is a wall of murals outside one of the schools. The second is a picture of the wall outside the youth center.

Our second home

I was afforded a rare and special opportunity during my time in Lebanon. A Lebanese friend who works for a youth media organization was going to interview a Palestinian refugee about the cable tv channel he and his friends created. She invited me to go with her to the refugee camp. I have spent many years studying the Arab-Israeli conflict from various angles, but never before was I given the opportunity to see for myself concrete results of the conflict. We headed just north of Tripoli to the camp. This particular camp is about 60 years old and has about 30,000 residents in about one and a half or two square kilometers. Originally, the camp was allotted one square kilometer and building was deemed illegal. Over time however, the camp was built up (illegally) and the population doubled after another camp was destroyed. The interview was conducted in the camp's youth center. They had even converted the bathroom in to a recording studio. After wards, our new friend invited us to his family's house where he insisted we stay for lunch. It was quite an interesting experience listening to him and another of his friends (a girl who was around my age) describe their struggle. They referred to Israel in quotation marks every time they used the word. What was interesting was that they never referred to their enemy as the the Jews. Rather, their opposition was to an occupying force. They spoke of the days that Jews and Palestinians lived in peace on that land, long before the occupation. Though several generations have now lived their whole lives in the camp, the residents maintain a very strong Palestinian identity. They referred to Lebanon as their second home. Palestine, even if they had never seen it before, was their first home. Everyone we spoke with was passionate about returning to the land they loved. Our friend told us that for Palestinians, their relationship to the land was special. They lived on the hope of returning. Because of this, they dismissed any peace negotiations, refusing to be granted small pieces of a land they see as theirs. "Israel" was described as a tool created by the West to achieve influence in this part of the world. But, as all occupying forces do, our friend was convinced that the occupiers would eventually leave. I did not express my own points of view, I was there in their home just to listen, and to absorb a point of view I knew existed but had never seen. I should note that our hosts were very hospitable and that lunch was excellent.
From there, we toured the camp a bit. We saw all the little boys playing with very realistic toy guns. Our Palestinian friend explained that growing up with stories of violence, this is all they know. She then invited us to her family's house for coffee. There, her father explained some of the intricacies of Palestinian government. One thing I had learned earlier that day was that the governments of the West Bank and Gaza can do nothing for Palestinian refugees. In fact, many of the laws surrounding refugees were surprising. I could tell the residents struggled with how they felt about Lebanon. It is their de facto home and a place that they love. At the same time though, they are treated like second class citizens, unable to hold most jobs, and held to the utmost scrutiny when traveling. The refugees hold no passports, instead they have "documentation" or an ID card. They are of course not allowed to leave the country, and there is a check point right outside the camp in case they need to go in to the city.
Though we might have different points of view, I was very grateful for the kindness showed to me in the camp. I was happy to have the opportunity to hear first hand about their struggle and impressed with their ability to maintain their identity. The experience was both humbling and enlightening in terms of furthering my understanding of this deep-rooted and what I see now as a very real conflict.

Lebanon

Just returned from a week in Lebanon. Honestly I will have a hard time verbalizing the experience. A lot of what I found there was both surprising and somehow eerily familiar. The country is beautiful, and yes the rumors are completely true- the people are equally gorgeous. The food is phenomenal, really impressively good. (Had the best hummos I've ever had in Baalbek and the best backlava courtesy of Tripoli.) It occurred to me a couple days in to the trip that Lebanon is what I pictured the "Middle East" to be like before I really knew what it was. Starring at the late-afternoon moon above the citadel in Tripoli, I was reminded of this very early childhood impression. Perhaps it's hard to sum up my impressions because of the many juxtapositions or in some cases contradictions swirling around in one small country. Beirut, as it's reputation describes, is very cosmopolitan. The city was full of girls wearing short skirts and spaghetti strap tank tops. Coming from Egypt this was surprising. As I navigated my way through the perfectly groomed, cosmopolitan youth, it was hard to get a sense that this city was the site of much and recent conflict. The bullet holes still visible in many buildings however provided adequate proof. Furthermore, thanks to the myriad construction projects downtown, all prophetizing grand apartments, and the designer shops lining the downtown corridors, there is an intentional feeling of luxury in Beirut. This bubble however, was popped when speaking to some Lebanese friends about job opportunities there. They assured me that the wages in the country are not what you would expect them to be. The new luxury apartments are only being built because international investment groups could afford them, not because of any measured demand. So it was nice to get outside the city as well and see more of the country. One day we ventured to Baalbek (where the above photo was taken) to see the famous ruins, and another couple of days were spent in Tripoli. The most rewarding experience I had though will have to be saved for another blog post.

Nu-Clear and Present Danger

Well as a way to take a break from teaching, I volunteer once a week at an NGO where I .... teach. This experience differs from my day job though as the class is focused on conversational English and is geared towards university students. The idea behind the NGO is to offer lesser privileged university students with the skills needed to find better jobs. These skills include English, French, or German, as well as computer and communication skills.
The other night, despite the NGO guidelines, our conversation in class turned towards the political. Having recently been through somewhat of a crash course on all things nuclear this past spring, I was eager to take Egypt's nuclear temperature. My fellow teacher and I posed the question, should Egypt have a nuclear weapon? The response was a resounding yes. The main arguments were two-fold. First, they argued that Egypt needs to defend itself against its enemy: Israel, and second, that every country has the right to build a nuclear weapon (no matter what the United States might say) and that right should be exercised.
What I found surprising was the student's multiple references to the "couple" countries who have nuclear weapons. In reality many more countries maintain nuclear arsenals. Conversely, the students included Iran as a country that has nuclear weapons. Perhaps the most awkward pause though came when we asked them: why do you consider Israel your enemy? Aren't both countries at peace? This question was met with resounding silence.
The discussion could have easily continued through the night but unfortunately we had to cut it short. Not only did we have grammar exercises to do, but the discussion was turning down a dangerous side street as indicated by the question, "why does the United States think it can tell other countries what to do?" I told them that was another topic for another day.
Overall I was excited to get some insight into how young Egyptians view their country and the world's nuclear ambitions, and I look forward to continuing nonproliferation studies. It may be one of the only fields that allows for a unique combination of hard power, strategic know-how, and the rare but somehow familiar trait of idealism.

The $10 ticket home

As an expatriot I was very happy last night. You see I attended my first American Embassy (Halloween) party. This is perhaps embarassing, but I had assumed that all Embassy parties would resemble the Cold-War-Germany Embassy Christmas party scene from Spy Game. As in Generals, politicians and spies holding cocktails mingling with foreign service staff and their guests. In reality it is much more like a frat party. Though I would have preferred the former, there is nothing quite like dancing with a bunch of Marines to Britney Spears to remind you of home.

Not-so-rhetorical questions

My mom forwarded me a NYT Op-Ed from Monday's paper. Naturally, I just now got around to reading it. This particular article was simultaneously heartwarming and cause for thought. Nicholas Kristof wrote again about Dr. Greg Mortenson's effort to build schools for girls in Afghanistan. More than that though Kristof implied that education will be an important component to ensuring peace and stability in a country that has known neither for a while now.

So if education is powerful enough to break through barriers that even the United States military cannot break, what happens when education becomes neglected? If education can change the face of a country and perhaps even increase its security and prosperity, will those same things suffer if education is not given the sense of urgency it requires?

I ask because once again I am grappling with the fact that what will be the future ruling class of Egypt, approaches education the same way a 5 year old approaches cough syrup - with protest and disdain. Perhaps I am being naive and overly idealistic in the face of what is surely a universal teenage reflex. But if not, is this a subtle yet ominous sign of things to come?

Proximity

This is going to be one of those things that may be received with a resounding, "well, yeah, obviously," but here it goes. Proximity matters. I studied issues faced in the Middle East in the comfort of my posh DC university and later in the comfort of DC offices. But the gravity of the issues never rang so true as when I am here, actually in the area. For instance, President Ahmedinejad recently visited Beirut. He was met with crowds of support and well-wishers. I am going there for vacation next month. So that's creepy.
I am finding that this is a hard idea to convey. Sarah and I discussed this on the cab ride back from Arabic class one night. It is not that people are more or less educated about a place or situation the closer or farther they are from it. I would argue the people in DC are just as if not more educated about what is going on in this region than some of its citizens. But from a safe distance it feels like we are studying characters from a fiction novel. We wonder perhaps what that certain eccentric Ahmedinejad will do next. Or, we suggest a given policy towards Syria, believed to be at least somewhat geopolitically strategic.
In the comfort of our own home, the world feels like a chess board. And we are free to suggest where to move the next pawn. But here you can feel the implications of what's going on. You can see the pawns, and the knights, and the bishops coming towards you and from where I'm standing, they look awfully big.

My backyard

This is a scene from Al-Azhar park, one of my favorite places in Cairo. Good place for sweeping, panoramic views. Also a good place to remember what the color green looks like.

Remember that one time?

So I had an interesting experience yesterday. I was actually sort of expecting it, and knew that it would occur at any time, just didn't know when. Generally speaking it was neither a positive nor negative experience, instead a catalyst for thought.
My 11th graders have been studying speeches these past couple of weeks. We had been looking specifically at American Revolutionary speeches, ie Patrick Henry, Benjamin Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson. Yesterday however, I decided to bring in an example of a modern day speech. I chose the speech Elie Wiesel gave last year at the site of the Buchenwald Concentration Camp on the anniversary of D-Day. President Obama was in the audience (having just come from Cairo where he gave his famous Cairo speech) as well as Chancellor Merkel. The speech is beautiful and I do recommend giving the transcript a look. Wiesel talked about the feeling of optimism people had for the world after the end of WWII. Maybe after such horror and devastation, the world would have learned its lesson that "all wars are absurd" and that peace would reign. But the world hadn't learned he argued. Instead, destruction and war became the stories of decades upon decades. He hoped however, that today with new leaders promising 20/20 moral vision, the world would finally seize the opportunity to leave war, hatred, and dominance aside and finally learn the lesson that history has so vehemently tried to teach; that peace and understanding of others is both possible and imperative here on Earth.
The students liked the message, only its impact was somewhat lost for one particular reason. They didn't know what a Concentration Camp was. How can you understand the plight of peace and the paradoxical optimism Wiesel felt after his liberation if you had never been introduced to the original suffering? Now, having to explain to a group of Egyptian students what a Concentration Camp is without discussing religion or politics (school rules) is a verbal feat of acrobatics. My sentence went something like, "It's where they took the Jews and other people during WWII."
This incident sparked a discussion in the staff room, not so much about the Holocaust, but about history in general. Is there such thing as a common world history? Or even a commonly acknowledged history? Should the African continent study the same history as the North American one? More importantly, if history becomes regionally or perhaps even politically motivated, will we ever really understand each other?

Is our Children Learning?

There is a trend developing in Egypt. I recently had my students write a one page essay comparing Chinese, American, and Egyptian proverbs. By doing this I told them that they would better understand the three countries' values. My students gave me one page summaries copied and pasted from Wikipedia. Ironically this assignment about values taught me a lot about theirs.
The students I teach attend a private school and pay a significant amount per year. The school is a for-profit institution, which I believe to be counterproductive. Mohammed Yunus, pioneer of social business, has some interesting ideas about how to revolutionize business models so that they do actually contribute to the social good. But that is a long way off from the system the school has now.
Unfortunately the feeling I'm getting is that an education here (at least with the class of kids I'm working with) is just a check in the box. Something to be either completed or not completed. Which is odd for me, because here I am convincing a group of 90 students (total) that actually you can become very well educated, and that the key to that is critical thinking. Maybe for the first time ever they are being asked to draw conclusions, make inferences, and apply lessons learned in literature to their own lives. The process is painstakingly grueling.

The $4 ticket home

It happened. It was bound to. I went to Starbuck's. I am familiar with the concept of walking into Starbucks and feeling like you're home, but it still surprises me every time. There is however one reminder that you are somewhere else... the tumblers cost $50.

Reckoner

There is a Radiohead song called Reckoner. The movie Countdown to Zero, which warns us of the threat posed by nuclear arms, uses this song in its ending montage. I liked the choice, I felt it was appropriate given the apocalyptic implications of nuclear war. I found myself thinking about this song the other day.
Chatting with my expat friends, it seems somehow the same theme arises again and again when talking about all things Cairo. Strange as it sounds, that theme is the apocalypse. Now I realize how melodramatic this may sound, but it's really not supposed to. Almost as an afterthought in considering our city, we mention this phenomenon as if suddenly remembering the correct word to describe something. My friend Chris once said out of nowhere, "If I ever had to choose a place to film a low-budget, post-apocalyptic film, I'd choose Cairo." Everyone contemplated this for a second and then agreed. The city does not reek of tragedy or disaster, but there is a quality to it that makes my friend Tim, for instance, claim that "Cairo is what I imagine the world would look like after it ended."
I can think of two reasons for this. The first, is aesthetic. Beautiful buildings, mosques, and palaces still stand, but they are covered with layers of dust built up over decades. There is therefore a constant reminder of splendor lost, yet enduring. The second reason is a bit more political. Every day we encounter worse traffic than the day before. It's so bad that we now refer to it as wrath-ic. And so we find ourselves coming to the same conclusion at the end of each day, which is that the way of life here is unsustainable. It would be my guess that life as we know it here will eventually cease to exist. It has to.
The message here is perhaps unclear. Admittedly outsiders must give the city credit for continuing on with its daily life despite our convincingly Western label, "unsustainable." Still at the same time, as with anything, a city that does not adapt will not survive. Perhaps certain American cities can get away with ignoring environmental and social realities a bit longer because they are smaller. But with 22 million people living in one city, there is no where for the evidence to hide. I've always thought that it was our urban environments that should do the most to embrace a sustainable future. Cairo, one of the world's largest urban phenomenons is no exception.

Trump card

There is a caste system and its alive and well here in Cairo. There are some unspoken agreements about the roles people play and how they are to be treated. The system is not hard and fast, but it's there. The thing is that I trump the social order, which at times can be uncomfortable. I'm American, and this comes with certain social privileges. In Arabic class, my teacher and I discussed travel. He told me that an American passport is gold and that having one made traveling so much easier. I agreed, except of course it doesn't always help in the Middle East. Then my teacher told me here, Americans could do as they please. Do whatever you want, he said. You'd get away with it. This past week a few American teachers and I were escorted to the hospital downtown for a blood test. We walked through the waiting room where women held babies in their arms and looked, I'm sure, like they'd been there for hours. We however flashed our one way ticket to the front of the line and were in and out in about ten minutes. The crazy part though is that the Egyptians sat back and watched this happen and accepted this as the status quo. Now to be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about this. In one sense I just want to hide and be the fly on the wall, and have as we all hope to, an authentic experience. In another, it is hard to complain when you are ushered to the front of the line and allowed certain social luxuries. I guess the only close analogy I can draw is to compare my role to an undercover cop. You play the part the best you can until the time comes to flash your badge.

Class is in Session

Put away the sunblock and your passports, because the school year has begun. This week was my first week teaching... ever. Granted, I had some tutoring experience before, but never anything quite like this. I teach about 45 12th graders, and 45 11th graders. Already I am getting to know the personalities of the students and the personalities of the classes as a whole. And there are a lot of personalities. Before the year started I was warned about potential behavior problems. And it's true, it's hard to get 17 year olds to be calm and quiet, especially when they're all taller than you. But despite the behavioral challenges, it has been a lot of fun getting to know them. In terms of academics, I started off with a fairly traditional syllabus, but I see now that I may be more effective with some more creative activities and class discussions.

Though I enjoyed my maiden voyage as a teacher, this week was one of the longest on record. We started on Saturday which made for a six day week. Also, I started taking Arabic classes 3x a week for 3 hours each session. The place is great and the teachers are so nice, but again, makes for very long days.

I'm now enjoying a very necessary weekend. Boy do I have a new found respect for teachers. Round two begins Sunday.

Eid Mubarak

Some friends and I decided to get out of town for a few days during the Eid holiday here in Egypt. We (7 Egyptians, 6 Americans, and 1 Brit) headed to Ras Shitan, an area on the Sinai Peninsula right on the Red Sea. We needed our passports for the journey, and though we never left Egypt we did technically leave the continent, and spent the weekend in Asia.

The camp where we stayed was minimalist, as was the price. We spent our days lounging, swimming, eating, and playing games. (Yes, I did introduce the Egyptians to bananagrams and yes they did love them.) At night we slept outside under the stars, and gazed across the sea to what was either Israel, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, or a combination.

I'm back in Cairo now, but hey at least I'm a little more tan and a little less stressed.

The pictures above show our huts surrounded by mountains and the Red Sea at sunrise. Below is a link to an article with a worthwhile description of the area.

http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/2005/749/tr8.htm

Rosh Hashanah

Well as Jews who move to new places may know, we have to figure out our surroundings fairly fast. Because sure enough, a couple weeks after showing up it's time for High Holy Day services. This means finding a temple and getting there. At school this was a cake walk. Services were held on campus and half the student body attended. Here in Cairo, my quest for a Rosh Hashanah service was not so easy. I did a bit of research online, which was less than encouraging. There are fewer than 100 Jews left in Cairo, and possibly Egypt. Articles claim that there is only one functioning synagogue and it was attacked in March of this year. This same synagogue's head rabbi fled the country after fraud charges. Alright, I thought, I will get in touch with the Israeli embassy and see what advice they have to offer... oh wait, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs website is down. Which seems... suspicious. I got in touch with some writers who had written pieces about the remaining Jews in Cairo to ask them how to pull off attending Jewish services in a Muslim country. They were very nice and wrote me back but couldn't promise any accurate information. So I did my best to piece together an address for Shar Hashamayim, the 'Gates of Heaven' synagogue that I had read about in downtown Cairo. I didn't know what to expect, but when I saw the fleet of police outside I knew I had found the place. We spoke to security from the Israeli embassy. They took our passport info and asked us several questions. They turned us away at first, because we had not been invited. This is, of course, understandable. Then after some talk, they told us to come back in an hour and see what happens. So we did, and after some calls to the Israeli embassy we were welcomed in to the synagogue. The rabbi introduced himself. He had come in from Paris especially for the occasion and spoke to us and the congregation in French. It was a short service followed by a communal dinner. We met other Americans, mostly students, and other expats working in various industries in Egypt. All in all, it was a lovely, safe, and rare (given the dwindling size of Cairo's Jewish community) evening.

On the cab ride back from services, I felt very proud for pulling off what is a delicate move. Showing up unannounced to a synagogue in Europe is hard enough, let alone a Muslim country. But I am very glad I tried, and very glad I was able to attend. I don't consider myself too religious, but the High Holy day services are an annual tradition. Not going would be simply disorienting. Also, in a strange, jostling city such as Cairo, it's nice to find, albeit briefly, a moment in time in which you belong, and can joke with others about being Jewish in a city that is not.

That said, the Egyptians running security at the synagogue and helping to serve dinner were very respectful and friendly towards us. Some describe Egypt's peace with Israel as cold. But tonight, it made all the difference.

A safe and happy New Year to you all.

Balancing Act

Ah the irony. I've been assigned to teach 11th and 12th grade literature. The 11th grade textbook is devoted solely to American literature. Which means, that for at least one of my classes I am assigned to teach the American experience. Two things strike me as counter-intuitive. First, that I am here to teach anybody anything is humorous to me. I studied Middle East history, religion, and politics in school, so it feels natural for me to surrender myself to learning. Thanks to prior training in study abroad and other such ventures, my natural state is one of guest and student. Second, I am supposed to teach Egyptian students about America. This makes sense, as one of (if not the sole reason) I was hired was my nationality. Yet, here I am, thirsty for information about their culture, their literature.

As with an old friend, I am meeting again with a familiar feeling, one I experienced when spending time abroad before. At home, I rarely feel that 'American.' As a liberal free-thinker from Portland-wonderful-bubble-of Northwestern-but-detached-goodness, Oregon, I rarely feel a strong patriotic pull. However, in the context of a foreign culture, I have a strongly heightened sense of my Americanism. Generally, I find myself appreciating things from home I never thought I would, and as I skim through the literature textbook, I find myself praising classic American works and figures. I am slowly realizing how truly carved I am out of the American stone.

And so the need arises to perform a strange and sophisticated balancing act. I want to learn as much as I can, letting my host country guide my experiences. At the same time, I want to be the best teacher I can, sharing with my students all my country's past has to offer. And, most importantly, I want to find the perfect balance between demonstrating pride and appreciation for my background, and respect and awe of my new surroundings.

Ready. Set. Balance.

The phenomenon that is Randall

He's the one on the right.

My room

Kitchen

More of the retro I was talking about...

Living room(s)

Here are the formal and informal living rooms in my apartment. The apartment is owned by an Armenian family and has a nice 1970's retro-vibe. It comes, as many apartments do here, pre-furnished.

Visual interest

Scene from sunset the other night. Taken from a Cairo suburb before Iftar at a friend's house.

Numbered account

Our shower head broke. Then our faucet broke. It's okay, we are handy and have a wonderful and working shower now. This episode however involved a trip to a certain house goods store. We thought we'd just pick up some cheap replacements at the grocery store but instead we were directed to this place. A man greeted us at the door to take our bags, then a woman secretary directed us to what can only be described as the concierge. We wandered back through the neat and shiny displays of gilded door knobs so that we could tell the fleet of employees what we would like. We were directed downstairs to look at the shower fixtures, many of them designer. Once we had chosen our shower head (the cheapest one they had) we were directed to a second concierge desk where they wrote us a receipt to be taken to the first concierge desk where a man would bring our newly purchased product to us. After the pomp and circumstance we collected our bags from the bag check and walked through the door that was held open for us. My theory: Swiss bank disguised as a housewares store...

Just

There is no 'just' in Egypt. Just go to the bank. Just get cell phone minutes. Just cross the street. No, no. As my dad pointed out, even in Canada basic errands are more complicated than the States. Well here what one would expect to check off their to do list in one afternoon is instead an ongoing saga not to take less than a week to accomplish. I tell you this because that way when I say I did something like I purchased an item I needed, or made it safely to the other side of the street, you know I've accomplished something with my day. A particularly amusing moment: after an afternoon of banking I was trying to link my US account with my new Egyptian one. My home bank gave me a warning that Egypt was labeled as a "Slow" country. Ha, even the computers no you can't get anything done.

That said, I had a very interesting night last night. After an outdoor concert in a tucked away corner of Old Cairo (filled with Egyptian youth and ex-pats) we ventured to one of Cairo's nice hotels on the Nile. While I enjoyed the view, what I really liked was listening to Egyptians and Palestinians discuss Egypt's upcoming presidential election. Both girls and guys debated the merits and dangers of the current president versus the only viable alternative, the Muslim Brotherhood. Some argued that if the Brotherhood was actually going to take care of their country then more power to them. Others argued that right now they were at least guaranteed some personal freedoms and with the Brotherhood promising Sharia law, they'd rather not find out what that means. The main problem is that it is hard to tell what the Brotherhood in power would actually look like. Sharia law apparently changes from group to group, so it is hard to tell what one is actually voting for. Anyways it was interesting to hear first hand what people are thinking, thoughts on women's rights, and what to do about the disparity found in the country.

I'll end with a quote about Cairo and more specifically Heliopolis, my section of town.
"It was to ancient Heliopolis, the oldest of Cairo's many avatars, that the bird of fabulous plumage was said to return every 500 years, to settle on the burning altar at the great Temple of the Sun and then to rise again from its own ashes. Time and again, Cairo too has risen from its ashes. It has survived countless invasions, booms and busts, famines, plagues and calamities. Through them all the city has ultimately remained, as in its classical Arabic name, al-Qahira - The Victorious." - Max Rodenbeck

Sam from Ohio

Today was my first day of work here in Cairo, and it was for the most part hilarious. The mini bus (no not a yellow school bus) picked us up promptly outside our door and drove us to the school which is more or less out in the dessert/near the airport. The bus ride was comforting for two reasons. First, it was air conditioned which was a pleasant surprise. The public buses are notoriously not. Second, we met a girl who will be teaching with us named Sam from Ohio. Out here it is comforting to meet people from Ohio. The school building itself is actually sort of nice. The hallways are not air conditioned, the classrooms are. We met key staff members, took a tour, and then in true Egyptian poly-chronic fashion, waited for a meeting no one ever intended on holding. We were also about to be given our assignments as to which grades and subjects we would be teaching, but just as the announcement was to be made, our fearless leader left the room and never came back. We did get a chance to chat with some of the other new teachers, one of them a mother of two whose husband decided to move to Egypt, and lets just say she was less than thrilled. The theme so far though is that the school tries to do good things for their students and their teachers but the main problem will be student discipline issues. For all their faults, American students are extremely well disciplined and hold a lot of respect for teachers and education. This is not necessarily true here. Still a couple more weeks of orientation, but then when Ramadan ends class is in session!

Cairo: the City Victorious

Tonight was interesting and typical of my experiences in this city. After a necessary nap my friends and I set out for Iftar (the breaking of the daily fast during Ramadan) at a family's house. Our cab took us through Old Cairo just as the sun was setting. Lucky for us this is, in my opinion, the best view and the best time of day for the city. Eventually we drove past a mosque where men stood handing out packages of dates so that drivers could break their fast as well. Our cab driver made sure we each got some and then stopped and bought us water. This was very kind of him, and in line with the spirit of Ramadan. People tend to adhere more strictly to religious rules but are also extra generous and considerate of others during this time.

The meal at the Massoud's was delicious. Lots of traditional dishes homemade by an Egyptian mother. Her husband, a university professor, after a few minutes into the meal declared that while he was sure I did not understand Arabic, he was impressed with my ability to comprehend based on context. Ha, at least that's something.

After dessert (fresh mango and homemade yogurt) we set off in to the night. We made our way over to an old hotel with a rooftop bar. There we enjoyed the view, a soccer match, and as always some shisha. The ride back was eventful. We were stopped by Egyptian police after making a questionable turn. This was both infuriating and hilarious as there are virtually no lanes or crosswalks in Cairo, so that anyone cared about technical traffic violations seemed contradictory. Alas, we made it to the shwarma stand for a late night snack, and the incident was soon forgotten. All in all, not a bad night to kick off my 23rd birthday.

Cairopractic

I read an article today that described the phenomenon of cruise ship travel, referring mainly to the pre-packaged quality of it all. I noticed this description perhaps because that is maybe the complete opposite way to describe my current city. It is a large city so there are brand names here and ramen noodles at the grocery store, but there's nothing pre-packaged about it.

Today we did some errands, which was an experience in of itself. Sarah took us to the bank to open an account. The banks close at 1pm for Ramadan, so the place was packed. Good thing Sarah's cousin knows someone at that particular branch and because he recognized Sarah we were able to jump to the front of the line and receive business class attention. This is how things work here. Some things they waived for us because they felt like it, some things they insisted we must have. When it was time to deposit some cash, my bankers ushered me past the lines of waiting customers and into the back room reserved only for large deposits (not that that applied to me). I'll be back next week to follow up on paperwork.

Now waiting out the hottest part of the day indoors before more adventures tonight.

Freedom from the Known

I made it! I am now in Cairo, currently sitting in my new apartment listening to the comforting hum of the air conditioner. The trip was suspiciously smooth. It was strange to wake from my airplane slumber and remind myself where I was and what I was doing. I have a plan of course. Go to Cairo, teach English, earn money. But a lot of what scares and excites is the freedom from the known. This is also coincidentally the title of the next book I'll read (thanks Mom). Egypt is it's usual charming self, full of quirks. For example the greeting posted at the airport states that customs will "almost facilitate you." Well at least they're honest. So there is lots to set up still (bank accounts, arabic lessons, etc) but for now we are relaxing until dinner. It is Ramadan so the city comes alive at night, making it a good time to venture out and find some food. It's good to see my friend and now roommate Sarah again, she leads an amazing life and with any luck I might be able to emulate some of that this year. I've got a few more days of vacation until teacher training starts and the real work begins. Ramadan Karim, and over and out for now.

Prep

Alright folks. It's T-7 days til I'm headed off to Cairo to teach middle school English. But as always, things aren't as simple as they seem. First I'm off to Atlanta to celebrate my grandfather's 90th. Happy birthday grandaddy! (His official birthday is actually today). Then back here to Portland then to Boston, then to NY, then finally to the land of mystery and smog. Ha. Anyways, I'm excited for the adventures, and will keep you and my blog posted.