Wednesday, January 26, 2011

And what is it that you think they'll say?

Twitter and Facebook are currently blocked here in Egypt. What does it say about a government that they won't let their people speak?

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

A moment for Egypt

My friend and I spent the afternoon discussing myriad challenges faced by Egypt and the Middle East. As sunlight streamed in through the coffee shop window, I was mindful that these same rays of sun were touching down on another scene entirely just a short cab ride away. Today thousands of Egyptians protested poverty, police brutality, and Mubarak himself among other grievances. For the past week I debated attending the protests. Ultimately however I decided not to go. Twinges of regret later raced up my spine as my friends who did attend regaled tales of the day. Yet while I appreciate and admire their experience, every time I found myself doubting my decision I came to the same conclusion. My presence would not have helped, and may have even hindered, the Egyptians who were voicing very personal and very real concerns. These protests are a result of daily hardships faced by many here in the country. I believe this is an important moment for these citizens who so rarely get to speak their minds. I believe in their cause and today all I could offer them was my absence. I hope it helped.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Siddhartha

I'm here. I'm here but I'm living in a bubble. I write not to complain but to acknowledge. Men burn around me, disenfranchised citizens scream at eager, panther-black batons. There is not enough food or jobs to go around. Laborers float in the dead sea of unemployment. Yet here I sit behind palace walls, the visions around me tinted emerald as I gaze through jewel-encrusted lashes known only by the fortunate here in the city victorious.
I saw a beggar yesterday. He hobbled down the row of cars stopped at a red light. I would like to say that I met his stare and acknowledged his innocence and the vulnerability any pedestrian might feel amongst a sea of horse power and the steel of wealth. But I didn't.
Daily the news washes stories ashore like pieces of drift wood upon a tired beach. The U.S. discusses cutting funding to Egypt. Egypt's middle class is too divided to unite against government inadequacies. Necessary subsidies are only stinting economic growth. And I see none of it. I'm here. I'm here but I'm living in a bubble.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Two roads diverged in a wood

I came to a crossroads today. I entered the classroom and there, like knife wounds on flesh, I noticed three swastikas etched in to a student's wooden chair. Two identities within me recoiled in horror. Students were asking me questions about my morning but I was momentarily dumbfounded as the symbol and I starred at each other. Like Achilles squaring off with Hector, both of us feared and loathed the other, but despite all the talk, we had never before come face to face. All was quiet as the Spartan dust settled. There we were, oppressor and oppressed only now both anachronisms in a time that has changed both our roles and more importantly our reputations. The lightly weathered pine wood seemed apologetic for its scar, one that seemed to taunt and beg the question: what will you do now? Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by... only it didn't make any difference. I decided I had to tell someone. A few years ago swastikas were discovered on school property at my university. All students involved were expelled immediately. While I would never expect the same reaction here in Egypt, surely I thought the school might fear for its reputation, or at least its furniture. No one cared. One administrator chuckled softly and said "oh yes, that Nazi thing." Another waved me out of his office saying "oh not to worry, they don't mean it." But isn't this a rather dangerous symbol to embrace but not to understand? This was cause for some self-reflection. Perhaps I was letting my preconceived notions get in the way of what was ultimately a cultural learning experience. Maybe I needed to relax and realize that the etching does not carry the same weight here. And yet this seemed unsettling somehow. Hatred is universal. Hatred transcends cultural bounds. While the significance of the symbols change, the ideas don't. Schools are supposed to strike a match to the darkness of ignorance. Shouldn't we as teachers make sure that these flames are born from the flint of truth and love? I've been told I pose too many questions without enough statements. But today I asked my school a question, and I'm still waiting for the answer.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Walk the Line

I've been thinking a lot about governments. Having grown up in Liberal Bubble, USA I spent my youth investing my faith in Government, the solution to every problem. Those were golden years, Clinton was in office and in my naivete, I thoroughly believed the entire nation agreed with everything said on NPR. It wasn't until Bush won in 2000 that I realized there actually were Republicans. Since then, my political education has only eroded my vision of what I saw as a larger than life institution. This year, and really this week (just look at the NYTimes homepage), have shown me that governments are fragile. I began to catch on to this in the Fall, when I witnessed Egypt's ruling party design and enforce yet another victory. Additionally, three simultaneous news stories from this week's headlines have driven this point home. First, Tunisia's government is in peril after riots and demonstrations. The people are fed up with the First Family's wealth and corruption. As the Times states, they blame this greed for the rampant joblessness in their country. While this unrest I am sure has been brewing for a while, it was further instigated by a leaked cable as part of the WikiGate scandal. I might add that the President of Tunisia has been in power for 23 years. Second, Lebanon's government collapsed this week after Hezbollah pulled their members from the coalition government. The country, as it has on several occasions, is now waiting to see what happens next. And third, the United States witnessed an attempted assassination - one that left many dead including a 9 year old girl who just wanted to learn more about her government.
Perhaps weakness and the vulnerability of government are most apparent in the first two examples, but the third is for me, equally tragic. As the years have progressed, the political atmosphere in the United States has become so toxic that watching the news no longer feels educational. Educated political debates, essential to the health of our democracy, have turned into tabloid-style equivalents to rhetoric food fights. However embarrassing this may be to the country, the real threat is that vitriolic partisan clashes are no longer confined to just the campaign cycle. The misinformation that seeps like smoke from the nostrils of the dragon of hate is now permeating the every day work of our government. Important legislation is skewed or ignored simply to gain a victory for one side or worse, ensure defeat for the other. I fear that the country and 9 year old girls everywhere will pay a steep price for what I see as counter productivity. Perhaps the incident in Arizona, while I agree not necessarily politically motivated, is the proverbial smoke alarm we've all been waiting for.
I happened to catch a rerun of Oprah on TV the other day. Her guest was former president George W. Bush. The interview took place after he was out of office. Oprah asked him how it felt to lift off from the steps of the Capital on Obama's inauguration day. As he responded, they cut to a clip of Bush and his wife waving goodbye and flying away in the presidential helicopter. For all the disagreements between those on the Right and those on the Left, the United States has maintained a peaceful and law-abiding transfer of power based on set term limits since its creation. If we lay our weapons down, both literally and figuratively, I think we'll find that we have the foundations of a government that works. Given the political realities of many countries today, this is truly a blessing. As we walk the thin line between hatred and empathy, I hope we start leaning in one direction more than the other.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Dina and Ahmed

Dancin'

Here are Dina and Ahmed dancing during the Zeffa as the happy crowd looks on.

Henna party

Here a few of us show off our henna and belly dancing attire.

The Wedding

This past couple weeks I have been very privileged to be involved in wedding festivities for my friends Dina and Ahmed's wedding. Egyptian wedding traditions are blend of East meets West. The wedding process starts with the Katb-ael-Kitab. This is a legal ceremony. It takes place at a mosque, though not inside, and can be quite brief. This is done from a week to a month before the wedding, depending on the couple. Then closer the wedding the bride has a henna party. This is the Egyptian equivalent to a bachelorette party. This is meant for the girls only, all the women in the bride and groom's family are invited as well as the bride's female friends. A woman decorates the attendees' hands with henna while girls dance, sing, and gossip. This is one of those events that is supposed to be intimate. Women who normally cover themselves literally let their hair down. It felt great to be a part of this. (Meanwhile the boys attended a football match...)
One of the greatest traditions at the wedding itself (which is for the most part like a western-style reception) is called the Zeffa. The bride and groom enter and their guests stand around as a chorus of men beat drums, play flute-like instruments and chant in merriment. As a friend pointed out, it allows the bride and groom and the guests to pause and just be for a moment. Everyone looks at each other while the music rings out and smiles abound. I'm hoping that the Zeffa makes it across the Atlantic.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Managed Chaos

There's something beautiful about controlled chaos. The art of only just reigning in what is abounding with energy, variation, and uncertainty is like drawing lines in the sand where the waves should stop. This is something that takes practice, it requires its choreographer to let go of ultimate control and settle for the role of conductor of madness, praying all along that things turn out well. Managing chaos has been how I have spent much of my time this new year. On one front, my roommates and I hosted 8 other house guests and several parties. 11+ people in a 3 person apartment can only result in that beautiful disorder of which I now speak. Girls turn bedrooms into backstage areas devoted to hair and makeup. The laundry room becomes a laundromat, and the kitchen a cafeteria. Moving crowds of people in multiple cabs across the undeniable metropolis of Cairo is no small feat, it demands a grace, a calm well known to managers of chaos. Just as wind sweeps leaves off an autumn street, so is the harmony found in gently guiding disorder. I might add that my roommate Sarah is deserving of a Tony award for her epic choreography of the unknown and spontaneous this past week.
On another front, my time at work is becoming, dare I say it, slightly more enjoyable. The Egyptian high school is comprised of rambunctious teenagers eager to go against the grain, to talk, to laugh, and of course disrupt. I tried in the first term to meet this atmosphere with strict policies and unyielding boundaries. But this is to deny the natural order of the classroom. It was I who was moving against the grain. The natural order of things calls first and foremost for humor. Students notice the ridiculousness of their behavior best when I laugh at its absurdity. They notice the flaws in their questions when I correct them in jest. Such is the lesson then, that order reigns when I have less control. That as a teacher, having a pleasant and at times inspiring back-and-forth with students is only possible after I cede some power and become part of the classroom's natural chaos. And when it works, it's beautiful.
Ironically, we are watching Into the Wild in my 11th grade class in order to highlight transcendentalist themes we have been discussing. The movie advocates leaving society, things, and people behind, allowing time for ultimate self-reflection. Yet this year I have found that sometimes happiness comes from being one with the group, of embracing the people and the craziness, all while doing your best to draw ephemeral lines in front of a rising tide.