Olution

Today on the way to Alfa Market (the biggest grocery store in Cairo, that I’m aware of), my taxi driver decided to make small talk. Taxis in Egypt are great and also a constant source of stress.

1. Taxi drivers speak about as much English as I speak Arabic, as a general rule. Meaning that I can tell them to go straight, turn right or left, and where my destination is. I can tell them I’m American (today’s driver asked if I was Armenian). And we can discuss politics.

2. Taxi’s are, in fact, cars. Unlike Liberia, I cannot hail a motorbike and hop on the back for a speedy, death-defying journey. Instead, I wince and cringe as we maneuver, in a car that by all logic should no longer be moving, around people, cars, bicycles, motorcycles, and the occasional traffic circle.

3. There are no lanes in Egypt, they are simply guidelines.

4. Taxi drivers all smoke. Most men in Egypt smoke, probably upwards of 75%. So, as a friendly gesture, I usually offer my driver a cigarette, unless he beats me to it. It is very rare though for a driver to offer me a cigarette when I’m travelling alone. Most women, after all, don’t smoke. Or at least not in public.

5. As a how to guide: when paying for a taxi, one must immediately get out of the car upon stopping at the destination. Then lean in the front window and pass however much you deem appropriate to the driver. Generally, I go by the 5 pound minimum but sometimes the drive is very short and then less. However, if for some reason you think it’s wise to pay while still in the car, and are not fluent in Arabic, prepare of an argument upon your arrival. Even when I pay and walk away, I can hear the driver yelling animatedly in Arabic behind me. I would say I’m being cheap but if I let everyone charge whatever they liked, I’d be paying 50 pounds just to get some groceries. This is why it’s extremely important to know how much the drive should cost before arriving.

6. Oh and just like most of the world, taxis pick up multiple fares at once, as they like.

But today’s driver decided that I was a particularly interesting fare and called a friend to introduce me. He was talking on the phone, asking me questions and repeating them into the phone (in Arabic, of course). This is when we started talking politics. He explained to me that the Bush’s and Clinton were no good. He liked Reagan, oddly enough. I was going to ask about Mubarak but decided that while we can have a reciprocal discussion of American politics in broken English, that it may be difficult to get a solid “good” or “no good” answer about Egyptian leadership. (I regret not asking).

My return trip was eventful in a different way. I was walking, trying to hail a cab, which is just not done here (you stand and wait, I’m too impatient and like to walk, so a few cabs missed me as they passed). One finally stops, right before the bridge to get me back downtown (which is a decidedly nasty walk because of the sun, the exhaust, and the leers). He first stops for one woman. No, not going where she’s going. Then two children, about 8 and 9 respectfully, obviously brother and sister. He cruises past to me. Then, immediately hits the gas and is off. There a little ways down the road, three men in pure white galibeyas (the traditional dress of men in Egypt, particularly religious men, but just about everyone where’s them, it goes to the floor, has the little slit at the neckline in the front, looks like a big robe) and what appear to be Saudi head wraps (the red and white pattern, long, loose, tied around the head) are his fares. Wealth and piety definitely win.
The kids and I managed to get a cab that had one woman already in it. The boy, graciously and chivalrously sat in the front. I believe this custom must have to do with protecting women by not letting them sit in front, where they could fly out a windshield (airbags and seatbelts are rare in taxis). It’s also a little like separate-but-equal, particularly among strangers.

Walking into a brothel.

Sparks asked me what my most awkward experience in Egypt was thus far and I had to think of something to share with the world.

What happened was:
In the usual ex-pat style, we all met up for sheesha near my place, had coffee, tea, etc, and then decided that what we really wanted was felfela, which serves ful and falafal for really good prices. There were four Americans and one Brit. We got our food, ate standing at little tables in felfela, and start walking back towards our place when we hear raucous music coming from a bar with a red door. The sign above the door said Carol restuarant. As we walked by a man slipped in the door and we saw what must have been a good time.

Collectively, we paused. Let's see.

Rafiki and I took the first steps. We were greeted upon entrance by a man at the bar, leering with a big smile on his face, a man singing some sort of karaoke, a woman dancing, and another man clapping. That was it, but it seemed extraordinarily crowded. The room was smokey and the lighting was all red. It was a shot gun of tables with dancing space at the back and the bar at the front. Ramadan had never entered this place. The woman dancing immediately grabbed Rafiki to encourage him to dance. He declined and upon exchanging glances we all backed out of the bar with little grace. I immediately assumed brothel because:

a. I like to think the worst of situations
b. The lights were red
c. there was dancing and drinking going on during Ramadan, performed by Egyptians (not ex pats).
d. Women never grab men here

I have since asked my broker friends who have told me that yes, that place is for prostitution. And may have had some prior experience there as they also implied that they would really take your money if you go there.

So not entirely relevant to Egyptian culture, but most definitely awkward experience thus far.

The ocean, the sunrise, the citadel, the beach and Alex at night...

I am an eternal optimist. I've been labeled an idealist, a nut, and just plain wrong but I can't help being optimistic about my general surroundings.

So now I'm in Egypt. And Egypt is not an easy place to be optimistic. For one thing, nothing is done quickly. Everything that is done quickly is done in rapid fire Arabic. But as a friend of mine has begun to say (mocking me for my TIA comment), TIE, This Is Egypt. And then there's the crude things said on the street. But whatever.

Cairo is just, different from anywhere else I've ever been...but at the same time, sort of like Cleveland in its monotony.

Alexandria, however, is beautiful. Me and a posse of 6 other Americans, one Greek and one French went on a journey last weekend. I have learned not to travel in groups of 9, I get frustrated, and feel a little embarrassed to be that transparently out of place. Not that I would fit in if it was just me. Maybe if I covered my head, but right now, I'm a sore thumb. I have short hair and show off my arms (short sleeves at the most) and my ankles (roll up the pants, it's hot out) let alone my neck which is totally visible given the lack of hair covering it. Either way, though, even if I wouldn't blend in on my own, a group of 9 foreigners...no one wants to run into that...

"Cause, everybody hates a tourist" - William Shatner, Common People (the Pixies wrote the song, but Shatners version is hysterical)

The water in the mediterranean is crystal clear. We saw a 3 year old driving a four wheeler. A man was carrying a gun with a dead bird in his hand. I didn't get burned, no one did, the sun wasn't in the burning kind of mood.

Went to the Library of Alexandria (or Alex as the locals call it). That was cool. Even if it's not the same, the principle is still there.

Thinking of hitchhiking through Europe if I get this grant done (no class till October 3). Any suggestions?

This is an open letter of apology to all the people that I've told I would contact and then didn't because I forgot.

Sorry.

I know this doesn't make up for the fact that I still haven't contacted you. But the first step is admitting you have a problem, right?

There is something seductive about the desert. To me, it feels the same as the ocean, when you look out and all you see is that one thing. But with sand instead of water. And frozen waves. Cheezy, I know. We went last night, me and a gaggle of Americans, all of whom have become my close friends since my arrival, and M* one of the brokers. I wish I could spend more time with my brokers than with the Americans. I need to go back to the office for internet. It's not that I don't like the Americans. Obviously I think they're great, but I feel like I'm missing out on a place where I can't hang out with the locals. (See the second picture for an example) At least on a semi regular basis. But I don't know. Maybe I'm just feeling anxious because I spent all of my time in Liberia with Liberians and now I can't find any Egyptians to talk to. My curiosity is stifled.

I've also been wandering around the city a lot. Learning some new words every day but it's hard when I have so much ground to cover. I know most of the numbers in Arabic but very few nouns and a few greetings, usual words, etc. I'm best at ordering sheesha but even buying things at the market or store is a challenge. Mostly because I don't want to use English so I just point when I don't know the words. And reading is a whole other monster. I have to make flash cards and sticky notes to help me remember. I'm doing much better at Arabic than Kpelleh though.


*Who I still might interview.

I just read an article from World Affairs about women in Muslim countries. It starts off well, keeping a narrative going, but then it sort of descends into generalizations and fear mongering.

The point of the article, and this post, is that women are treated badly in Muslim countries. Unfortunately, as some of my previous blog posts mention, women are treated badly in Christian countries as well. Maybe even in Jewish country, I don't know, I haven't been to Israel. I also wonder how much of that "treated badly" is about a lack of understanding (besides massive generalizations, of course). I know, saying wife beating, violence, rape, ownership of another human being, saying these things are simply not understood due to cultural divides is unacceptable. And, as Paul so graciously pointed out in an e mail (and not a blog comment, keep the discussion public if we can! We can get more feedback that way) chivalry has been subordinating women in many ways as well. So, if cultural values play a role, and any attempt at separate but equal isn't going to work (obviously) then where do the rights of women fit.

That article sited above gave a stat that may or may not be accurate. 85% of women in Egypt have undergone FGM. Is it possible? This modernized city has had more than half of it's women abused in this very fundamental way? But due to the articles' outlandish claims like that Mauritanian practices should be compared with Saudi Arabian because they practice the same religion, it's hard to trust the statistic.

It's hard to know what to believe, really. And there was a time, in my sweet innocent days of Cleveland Ohio, when I thought I could go through life without contemplating the rights of women, without getting pegged as a feminist (which often discounts your views by listeners), and without advocating for women's rights. I didn't want to be type cast as a woman for only women. But it's impossible not to. Even if I stuck falafel in my ears and cucumber over my eyes I would still have to bang my head not to hear and not to know of women's oppression all over the world. But the thing to remember, is there's nothing Muslim about oppressing women, it's global and it's going to take a global movement to do anything about it.

My rant for the day. Brought to you by Krupar and Family Soap Incorporated.

8-31-09
I’m having trouble focusing.

My mind is moving too fast with this new language to understand any of what’s going on around me. I’m curious about Egyptian life, as any good anthropologist living in Egypt would be, and am attempting to talk like, eat like and, perhaps even, walk like, an Egyptian. I’ve been wanting to make that joke for days. I know, awful, but when that song comes in and out of your head all day, you have to think of not so clever ways to broadcast it to the world. Sorry blog readers.

Seriously though, I’m trying to work on my proposal for Liberia, my application for HRW and all of the AUC stuff that I still have to do (medical forms and in a week, student visa), but instead I’m blogging. Procrastination meet your new friend: blog. You two will hit it off.

I’ve met a former Egyptian social worker who has mentioned an English language book about social work in Egypt. He’s going to bring it tomorrow or the next day. I can’t wait. I know, nerd! I feel just like Hermione Granger. Wow, I’m really digging myself into this nerd thing, aren’t I. Well…to be less nerdy, I’m going to go ride on a sail boat tonight, after having some socially stigmatized alcohol (I hope). The boat is called something…but it’s in Arabic and my memory is crap. The alcohol may or may not happen, when someone invites you out for drinks, what does that mean? In the US, it means alcohol, but it’s Ramadan and alcohol is extremely hard to come by. So drinks probably means tea and sheesha. That’s ok. A month without booze could do me good.

So in Liberia, I blogged about all sorts of human rights issues and I've been hearing stories that maybe I shouldn't do that here. Especially if I had Egyptian citizenship. More on that later.

Ok, seriously now, back to the grind. Signing out from the afterlife –

Here are pictures of the apartment and the new campus.

First two are the new campus, third one is the street my apartment is on, across from the building with the columns, and the last two are my room and view from the balcony.

In no particular order:

Ramadan seems to be the most fun for children. They get to stay up late, they’re totally accepted into the adult world for one glorious month. They run around at 3 in the morning, energetic from a day of sleep, and encouraged by their parents who seem to think it’s funny. The children here may be more accepted into the adult functions in general, I haven’t done enough “participant observation,” or sitting at coffee shops smoking sheesha and drinking delicious beverages I’ve never had before, to know for sure.

Chivalry isn’t dead, Honey, it moved to Egypt. Not that men treat women with the respect they deserve, well not all men anyway, but they do make sure women don’t get hurt. Since the sidewalks are often blocked or gross, we walk on the street, which means dodging cars and being mindful of any passing vehicle. The men, usually, take the outside when walking with a woman, as to be the first one hit if a car veers too close. They also like to open doors for women. That seems to be as far as it goes but, again, further observation and documentation is needed.*

There seem to be more homeless women in Cairo. Women, and their daughters often, sell small things like tissue at the coffee shops. They sleep on the street, in very public places. Maybe the parks are more dangerous, I don’t know. There are homeless men too, same as in the US, but seeing a mother and her two daughters (or a woman and two girls) sleeping on the side of a very busy sidewalk is strange and completely depressing. I tried to talk to the Broker about this more because I know that the Koran speaks of philanthropy and actually requires volunteerism and community service, so why are these women homeless? He didn’t have a good answer. He didn’t blame them though and seemed to think that the government was responsible for not providing welfare services to those who needed it.

That brings me to the welfare state. I know that some in the US may have a problem with the current system of aid in the US given to women with children, families, the mentally ill, etc. I’ve heard that they think we give too much and that it isn’t effective. From my experience in Liberia and Egypt, I would say the while the US government doesn’t have a perfect system and doesn’t lift everyone out of poverty, at least it exists. Without a welfare system, US city streets would be overrun with those who need shelter, food, and clothing because, let’s be realistic, society does not, and never has, benefited everyone in the same way. I know, this sounds like a lot of common sense, but I worry that it’s not.

It’s like rights and responsibilities. We all have human rights, but we also have responsibilities to maintain those rights. We have the right to good health, we have the responsibility to ensure that we are healthy, go to the doctor, don’t smoke (yeah, I know), etc. We have the right to vote, we have the responsibility to do it. That’s probably the most important lesson I learned in Liberia. Rights and responsibilities.

But let me step off my soap box for a minute.

My personal adventure is going well. I’m registered for the classes I want, Intro to International Humanitarian and Human Rights Law, Writing and researching for human rights, and Human rights in Africa. All my classes are on the old campus, which is, as far as I can tell, extraordinarily cooler than the new AUC campus. The new campus is in a suburb that doesn’t really exist yet. The buildings are all being built, the desert stretches past the few apartment complexes. It’s like an oasis of modernity. It’s awful. The new campus is surrounded by parking lots. Why they couldn’t build a parking garage so as to make a more aesthetically interesting campus, confuses me. But there, in the center of desert, empty in progress buildings, and suburban parking lot, lies an architecturally interesting, if over thought, complex of connected buildings stretching over a mile. The facilities are brand new, the indoor track has never been stepped on, the dormitories have had few guests, the library has yet to lose any books to forgetful students. There’s something incredibly unreal about it all.

*The smile is implied, as emoticons seem silly on a blog.
** I tried to post pics but so far, no.