A little bit of backlogging

So this entry is essentially a word dump of my last few weeks in Egypt. Sporadic internet made it difficult to keep up to date...enjoy!

June 7- Well I Rode Through the Desert on Horse with No Name

Last night, I did just that. As a celebration of the end of Arabic classes and an excuse to hang out with our pre-screened Egyptian friends, several of us rode horses in the Sahara at midnight.

We left on horseback around midnight. The air was cool and there was a slight breeze as we trotted across the desert underneath a full moon. I haven’t been on a horse since I was a little girl, and was slightly nervous, but I did well. Especially when the poor mistreated thing tried to buck me and I kept my seat.

After about a half hour, we reached a small camp where our guides offered us tea. Having brought other libations, however, we indulged in those instead. We partied in the desert for a few hours, mounted up, and headed back at about 3.

On the trip back, my horse broke into a gallop. It was surreal.

I’m not sure how culturally relevant the experience was, but I know it is one I will tell my grandchildren about.

June 11- Salt and Fresh Water

This past week has been an experience in swimming in new fun places. Last week, we drove through the desert to Marsa Matrouth, a resort beach on the Mediterranean Sea. It was a standard day of relaxation- sand, surf, sun, and back dives off the floating pool. Loud American drinking games rounded out the end of a great day at the beach.

After packing up our damp suits, we headed to the Siwa Oasis. Near the border of Libya, the oasis was every bit the verdant refuge you would imagine. Our second day was by far the best. After dragging us to a few ancient ruins, we took a dip in “Cleopatra’s Bath”. This deep natural pool was filled with clear, beautiful mineral water. The ledge was about 6 feet from the surface of the water, which made it perfect for diving. I could have spent all day jumping in the beautiful water.

In the afternoon, we went on our “desert trek.” Siwa has several hot and cold springs peppering the surrounding desert, so we mounted up the 4X4s and drove out into the desert. Going up and down sand dunes in a truck was pretty crazy. The sand slides almost like ice underneath the tires, so I was very glad someone else was driving. The first spring they brought us to was the classic pool of water surrounded by a few reeds, then desert as far as the eye could see. It was a very tranquil scene- until 30 boisterous twenty-somethings splashed right in.
The second spring was much less fun. The murky, hot water bubbled up from the center of a small cement pool. It felt slimy against your skin, and had a very distinct smell to it. Not at all the kind of hot tub you would want to sit in all day.
After two water sites, we checked out an ancient fossil bed from where this area used to be a sea millions of years ago.
By far, the best part of the desert trek was sandboarding at sunset. It was really difficult to get used to the texture of the sand (especially if you are used to ice), but once I got the hang of it, gliding down the dunes was a blast. Coming back up, however, was much less so. Finally, we watched the sun set over the Sahara as gallibaya men “serenaded”. By this, I mean sang lively, rhythmic songs in crude Arabic. It was very cool.

Despite all of the fun experiences we were having, the overwhelming poverty of the area was difficult to ignore. Siwa has a very tourist-based economy, yet is one of the most conservative places I’ve ever been to. Our guide told us that people never leave Siwa because it truly is perfect. The only time a murder occurs is between outsiders. People leave to get an education, but always come back to Siwa. That kind of community, despite the fact that that donkey-carts were the only cab system, was fascinating to observe.

After Siwa, we headed back to Marsa Matrouth for a second relaxation day. This time around, I tried my hand at jet skiing- and ended up splaying my passenger and myself into the Mediterranean. Freaked out Eastern European women in life vests using me as a flotation device aside, it was a good experience.

Tomorrow we head to Alexandria for the Arab Women’s Organization “Arab Western Youth Conference”. Can’t wait!

June 16- Culture Shock, Part II

If I thought what I experienced my first few weeks in Egypt was culture shock, it was nothing compared to the Arab Woman’s Organization “Arab Western Youth Dialogue Conference”.

We stayed in this gorgeous hotel on the grounds of a palace in Alexandria. The hotel was right on the water, the views were spectacular, and complimentary fruit baskets showed up within an hour of check in. The five-star resort is probably the nicest hotel I will ever stay in.

The conference aspect left much to be desired. There was virtually no emphasis placed on facts, merely “impressions” and “opinions”. I spent most of the time discussing violence against women (specifically the subject of rape, domestic violence, and harassment) in a legal context with a guy from Libiya who studied for the past two years in Oklahoma. I spent six hours discussing this topic with someone who was so
insulated from the realities of his country that he didn’t know Libya had a major problem with human trafficking until I told him.

Most of the students participating in the conference on the Arab side were not genuinely interested in politics. The first ladies of their respective countries selected these people; so most of them had some kind of political connection to the ruling family. Many of them did not want to be there. Most were from the uppermost class of society, so had very little idea of the realities on the ground in their respective countries and a very Western viewpoint. And all of them had to report back to their home countries about what they said there.

In sum, the conference aspect was mostly bullshit.

A few speakers were enlightening; the moderator cut off a heated debate on the topic of abortion. Affirmative action/quotas yielded discrepancies from both the Arab and American students. It was always interesting to see Arab misconceptions about Americans, and vice versa. But on the whole, the conference did not teach me much of anything I didn’t already expect to hear.

The interactions we had with people outside the group setting were the most enlightening.
There was one student in particular who provided new levels of culture shock for most of the group. When I first encountered this individual, he was wearing his country’s traditional dress and introducing himself. Going down the line of American students, he introduced himself by name and shook each of their hands. When he got to me, he paused for a moment. I introduced myself and extended my hand to greet him. He pulled back, shook his head almost condescendingly, and walked up to the next person. It was only then I realized I was the only woman in a group of men.

The next time this individual was mentioned, it was a good friend of mine discussing her committee. Apparently, he expressed his viewpoint on rape. If a woman happened to be raped- which was very very rare in his country- it was her fault. She deserved it if her head was uncovered. This is because a man is not responsible for his physical actions, but a woman is responsible for her moral ones. Great to know I deserve to get raped.

This individual later sat down next to me on the bus and began to lecture me about how Islam is different from the local cultures. I shouldn’t blame Islam for the bad things that happen in local cultures. I agree with him to an extent on this point, but when Islamic clerics twist the religion to support local inequalities, then it’s a little difficult not to blame the religion. I think the twenty minutes I spent politely listening to a person whose beliefs fundamentally make my skin crawl and not yelling at him was my single greatest growth experience on this trip.

Other moments of culture shock:

A girl telling me how happy she was we were going to a mall instead of the local market because “it was more secure”.

Being told that no Jewish people were killed during 9/11, because it occurred on a Jewish holiday and no Jews were in the building. Therefore, the Jews are responsible for 9/11. This was quickly refuted by a New York Times obituary search, which yielded enough Jewish last names to change this individual’s opinion.

Being propositioned in broken English because I was too polite to shake off an Arab boy who kept coming up and holding my hand.

Overall, the conference was a good experience. The depth of my knowledge in this area increased, as well as my tolerance and acceptance. Politics, however, will always be politics, and you have to sift through layers of rhetoric in order to find nuggets of truth.

It wasn’t necessarily an enjoyable experience, but certainly a meaningful one.

Obama wa Narmin

Yesterday I watch Obama's speech in Cairo. I'll spare you my liberal, starry-eyed, crunchy granola analysis (which I'm sure you can get if you open up the New York Times) but I will share with you the context in which I watched it:
Yesterday morning I had my Arabic final exam. My tiny little Arabic professor is a middle-aged Arab Christian woman, practicing Protestantism. A minority among minorities, she's often spent Arabic classes sharing anecdotes about her life in Cairo. One of her more recent stories is that her son is great at soccer, but cannot join any national clubs due to his religion. Although she is Egyptian, as are her children, they are not allowed to participate. She faces this daily kind of discrimination with a sunny attitude and a resigned smile.
She is not without a spine, however. My Arabic teacher, in her younger days, was a member of Kefaya ("enough" in Arabic). According to Wikipedia, Kefaya is "a grassroots coalition which draws it support from across Egypt’s political spectrum to oppose President Hosni Mubarak’s presidency and the possibility he may seek to transfer power directly to his son Gamal." Although the movement has only just taken off, it has roots back to the mid-90's. Being a part of any political movment, however, requires a certain degree of bravery. People who speak too loudly here against the government are rountinely rounded up and imprisioned. Advocating for greater government transparency and democracy may not seem like a big deal to those of us in the States, but its a bit like taking your life in your hands in Egypt.
If you're a nerd like I am, you can read more here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kifaya

After the exam, my class watched Obama's speech. His speech was ballsy even my my liberal crunchy granola standards. He called out intolerance everywhere: From Israel to Europe to al-Qaeda, no one was immune to Obama's intensely eloquent verbal wrist-slapping.
What struck me the most, though, was my Arabic teacher's engagement in the speech. Each time he would say something she agreed with (mostly the passages on government transparency and tolerance), she would lean forward and whisper "Bissopt, bissopt" (meaning "exactly" in Arabic). When he got to the part on women's rights, she said "Oh tell me about those, Obama".
It was almost like observing a believer in a church, so rapt was her attention.

I know the effect this man's words has in America, but to see firsthand how much faith non-Americans (espeically those in the Middle East) put in him is astounding. Everyone I've spoken to here loves him. Even the men peddling cheap junk in the streets speak of "Obama dollars". Maybe its the idea of hope and transparency, or maybe its simply because he's an American Muslim that fills people with inspiriation. As Thomas Friedman said in his most recent op-ed:
"An Egyptian friend remarked to me: Do not underestimate what seeds can get planted when American leaders don’t just propagate their values, but visibly live them. Mr. Obama will be speaking at Cairo University. When young Arabs and Muslims see an American president who looks like them, has a name like theirs, has Muslims in his family and comes into their world and speaks the truth, it will be empowering and disturbing at the same time. People will be asking: “Why is this guy who looks like everyone on the street here the head of the free world and we can’t even touch freedom?” You never know where that goes."

I think Friedman sums up my Arabic professor's "bissopt"s beautifully.

cahwa wa higazzzz

Brain fried.
Too much Arabic.
Sitting in an internet cafe while someone pays 6 pounds an hour to play World of Warcraft
Massive cup of coffee and real food makes me feel like a new person.

al-wazin

We started wazin today in Arabic.
The structure of Arabic is really different from Latin-based languages. In those languages, you have one word to express an idea or concept, and you vary the suffix/prefix based on context. In Arabic, each idea has a three letter root. You can vary the structure of noun (for example, spoon) to express a similar concept in a verb (hanging). Its very cool, but its such a hard concept to wrap my brain around as an English speaker.
I've never really appreciated how difficult it is to learn English until I studied Arabic. We have so many different words to describe subtle nuances in things, feelings, actions, and so on. And most of those words are so irregular that patterns are indiscernible. In Arabic, the meaning of the word depends on the context. "Spoon" and "hanging" have the same three root letters. The word for "staying" and "sitting" are the same.

Its crazy, but the more I know about Arabic, the greater appreciation I have for English.

The Parting of the Red Sea

On Friday, we put down the Arabic other homework, packed up Abdu's vans, and headed Ein Soukna for the day. Ein Soukna is a resort town on the Red Sea about two hours away from Cairo. It was the most beautiful beach/resort I've ever been to (in my limited resort/beach experience, having grown up in the frozen tundra of upstate New York). The water was clear and blue and beautiful, against the a desert backdrop. This year, I've dunked my feet in the Atlatinc, Pacific, the Red Sea, and the Medditerranean comes next weekend.
I'm not sure how it helped my education, but it was fun experience.

On Saturday, we toured old mosques in Isalmic Cairo. I was really suprised to see the amount classical and gothic influence. Church architecture is something I know quite a bit about, after seeing every damn church in Paris, but I didn't realize how similar the architecture here would be. Obviously, minarets and pointed domes are Islamic, but the vaulted arch interiors, columns, and cross floor plan were are identical to churches. The ornemetation, however, was vastly different from churches. In Islam, it is forbidden to have images of people- espeically the prophet. Instead of ornate oil paintings and statues, Islamic religious buildings have beautiful, ornate caligriaphy and mosaics. Aside from a snobby tour guide (who is actually giving Barack Obama his tour next week), the day was highly informative.

After climbing minarets and learning about madrasas, Abdu took us to the Kana Khaleli market. Its exactly how you would picture a marketplace in Egypt. Huge crowds, overflowing stalls, people trying to get your attention at every turn and drag you into their shop- the whole nine yards. My hot, sweaty, tired self did not have a lot of enthusiasm for the sport- until I discoverd bargaining.
The system my friend and I figured out is this- we would both got to a stand and start looking at an item we wanted, like a scarf. If I was interested in the scarf, I would make sure I knew how much I was willing to pay beforehand. I would ask the merchant "Bikam eh" ("how much" in Arabic). This would throw them a bit, because it was obvious we were American, but they would still quote a super inflated price. Then I would counter with a price that was too low, and the haggling would begin. Once it looked like the merchant was not going to budge, my friend would tap me on the shoulder, shake her head, and we would start to walk away- very slowly. Most of the time, the merchant would yell after us lower prices. As soon as he hit my price, I would turn around and walk back.

Most of the time, this worked beautifully. I wish we could do this at the mall.

After scraping off the market dirt, sweat, and smog accumulated on my body during the day, a small group of us went to a jazz club with our pre-screened Egyptian friends. It was "arabic rock night" at the club, which, for the most part, meant the same chord progressions as American rock music with Arabic lyrics. The club was very small and Western-style, but we were one of two American groups. Most of the people were Egyptians.
Egypitans also know how to dance! I've never been dipped by a guy and felt like he wouldn't drop me until now. I always have fun when I'm with these kids.

Now its back to researching for my paper and studying Arabic!

Zar

So we've been pretty busy with school, studying, adventures and stuff- hence the lack of updates.

Last Wednesday night, the group went to see Zar music. Zar is like Egyptian voodoo, and the music is performed to banish spirits and induce a trance state. The music is very drum heavy and rhythmic, and often features women as opposed to men. Its controversial in this society because its about banishing spirits- something Islam frowns upon. Only 25 people in Egypt are trained to perform this, a solid ten of which we saw in Cairo at this cultural center trying to preserve the custom.
The emotion the music evokes is difficult to describe. At one moment, you feel relaxed and etheareal, and the next you want to get up and dance. After hearing it performed, I can understand why they use it in trance rituals. The rythms and the scale is purely African- the source of a lot of our music today. It was kind of surreal hearing those same rhythms in their original form.
Controversial? Induces a trance? Features women?
Of course I loved it.

Check it out:

Sexuality in Islam- The ever popular paradox

The latest lecture we attended was one on gender and health in Islamic societies. Fairly standard stuff- domestic violence, health care inequities, differences in marital expectations- the usual. What I was not expecting, however, was a frank discussion on the link between FGM and confused male sexuality.
FGM (or female circumcision, depending on who you are speaking to and how politically correct you want to be) is a practice across the Arab world (although it originated in Egypt). Based on a hadith, tradition dictates a woman undergo this procedure before marriage. It amounts to removing all or part of the external female sex organs. Makes me cross my legs just thinking about it.

Anyway, I asked the woman what the statistics in Egypt where like and what was being done to curb the practice. Her answers shocked me. In the mid-90's, the rates were around 90%.

The rates have dropped, especially since the practice was outlawed a few years ago. Now its between 78%-82%.

Still- 80% of women in this country are physically unable to experience an orgasm.


After discussing these startling statistics, the speaker launched into a discussion about how this is a byproduct of confused male sexuality. There are many support systems for women and discussions on female sexuality, but men are not openly talked about. Discussing a man in this aspect is seen as weakness. In general, sex eduaction is lacking in this country, but it was interesting she blamed the practice on a lack of education for men. Its a conclusion I drew myself, but I'm shocked she stated it so bluntly. It was a great discussion.

Another piece of the sexuality puzzle plunked into place in casual conversation. A bunch of us did a felucca ride with a group of Egyptians last night. One of the Egyptians and I were chatting for most of the ride. I don't even know how the subject came up, but all of a sudden we were discussing the importance of virginity across our cultures. He asked me if it was as meaningless in America as he had heard it was. I answered that it was important, but not the same way it is in Egypt. You can loose your virginity to someone you don't plan on spending the rest of your life with.

When asked if he wanted to marry a virigin, he said that it wasn't important to him, but it was to his family. This was kind of bizzare to me. The fact that the "purity" of the groom is never really called into consideration and that the "purity" of the bride is discussed by the groom's family are both difficult concepts for me to wrap my head around. I know this kind of double standard was commonplace 20-30 years ago in America, but the fact that the fmaily is so deeply involved in such an intimate aspect of this descion is totally alien to me. And I still think its interesting that, even with the liberalmindedness this individual displayed, he still plans on abiding by the wishes of his family.

The more I learn about the differences in our culutres, the more I find things that are the same.