One year later ... a post script

This Thursday, January 25 will mark the 1 year anniversary of the people's revolution in Cairo. It marks the anniversary of a lot of changes in my own life as well.

Egypt still holds a place in my mind and heart, and will for some time. Many friends are still there, some are returning for another go, others are leaving for different adventures.

Occasionally I re-read my thoughts on these pages and think about all the wonderful experiences I gained in two years. It's obvious to point out that it has changed me, but it could also simply be that I've grown up.

I still miss so many things about Cairo, and find my mind wandering to likes of Mostafa the driver, Mohamed the fruitman or Rabeya the boab. People I'll never see again and who will never contact me via email or Facebook but who were so essential to my daily life as a stranger in a strange land.

Being home has been lovely. I love my new job and I love that I will soon be buying my new home. It's great to once again be involved in my family's lives again too. Part of me always wonders if I made the right choice to leave, and I'm learning to be content with that feeling.

My last picture is not one of Egypt, but one of lasting importance. The collection of t-shirts in this photo, worn by the most important people in my life, were a goal and a distraction in the spring. Sharing in Egypt's pride, we celebrate my return to Canada and God's faithfulness over an incredible two year journey.

Things/people I will miss (immensely)

My beautiful Middle Schoolers. So fun-loving. See post below.

My boab Rabeya. We barely understood each other, but he was so kind and giving and gracious. I hope that he knows how much I appreciated him and how much I valued his care of building 1/3.

lemon-mint juice. Whoever realized that freshly squeezed lemons/limes went with mint, you are a genius.

Cost and availability of fresh fruits and vegetables. Mangos, pomegranates, strawberries oh my!

Mohamed the fruitman. Even when I moved away from the fruit stand, he still sent delivery boys to my apartment, and still made sure I was looked after.

The church of St. John the Baptist, Ma'adi. Never have I been part of a church that knows and understands its situation and mission so well. Let by Paul-Gordon and Ben, I have been pushed, fed and nurtured and will miss Friday morning church so much.

Friends from the church of St. John the Baptist, Ma'adi. I should write a paragraph about each of the wonderful people who have become such dear friends.

Revolution and the pervasive national pride shown afterwards. Finally Egypt has something to be proud of. I swear you could see Egyptians walking all a bit taller in March this year.

Riding in taxis everywhere. This has been the source of two years of entertainment. Negotiating, arguing about prices, giving directions in half-English and half-Arabic, but almost always arriving safely and in one piece, being spared the need to navigate Cairo's streets on my own.

A constant sense of “What's going to happen next” whenever leaving the door of apartment 12. (Although this could also be put in the previous Things I will Not Miss post as well).

Delivery everything. When the above-mentioned sense of adventure became too much, I did not have to leave apartment 12. Everything can be delivered.

Being cold at 25 C and wearing a scarf and a light sweater

Being sick of sun, and wishing for a cloudy day.

Nadia the housekeeper. I regret not hiring her until January of this past year, but have absolutely loved the feeling of coming home to a spotless apartment once a week. I wonder if she will immigrate to Canada???

Being the centre of attention. People stare and point, and I have grown used to it.

Shokran, ya Masr, for all of you have been.

Things I will not miss...

I want to end with a positive, happy list about things that I will miss about Egypt. But in the mean time, there are several things which I will NOT miss, that I am ready to leave behind.

• Harassment. Verbal. Physical. Emotional. Never have I been touched, stared at or made fun of the way I have here. It is demeaning, difficult and hard to handle. From what I hear, I've not even had the worst of it. I've never been groped, nor has a man ever masturbated in front of me. I have, however, been told I “have big boobs,” that I was “mozah” (Hot!), and been asked repeated in a taxi “fuck me? Fuck me?” I'm done with you, men of Cairo.

• The dirt. I haven't had clean feet in 2 years.

• The traffic. Sitting for hours and moving inches. Usually the reason is puddles covering deep, deep potholes. Sometimes it is people who cannot drive, sometimes it is diesel shortages.

• The traffic part 2: commuting to work on a school provided bus has been a great way to read a lot and listen to a lot of CBC podcasts, but I'm pretty done with spending 11 hours a day with AIS colleagues, and talking about work far too often.

• The blatant inequalities of day-to-day life here. Although I'm not naive enough to consider my own country perfect or without its problems, I have on more than one occasion been embarrassed for Egypt and it's inequalities, and lack of social systems to offer aid. And then when I remember that I am usually part of or exacerbating the problem, I become deeply ashamed and realize this is one of the reasons it was time to go.

• Going to three different grocery stores to find what I want/'need' to cook with. And then, opening it to find it stale and not edible because it has been on the shelf for 3 years after being imported on a ship via the Mediterranean.

• Saltines. The only cracker available in Egypt.

• Water bottle showers. Waking up and not having water.

• Brownout season. It's a season, right up there with the “very hot” season.

• Crappy, slow, or non-existent Internet connections.

For all it's trials, tribulations and exhaustion, this country has given me its best and worst, and through it all an adventure. Shokran, ya Masr.

Turkey

Turkey has been in the news a lot lately, at least in comparison to the ever changing Middle East. Many commentators and analysts are using this European country as an example of what a secular Islamic state could look like.

Last week I headed with a dear friend and two of her guests for some travel time through Istanbul and then on my own to Cappadocia.

After learning to pair things like the call to prayer and women wearing coverings with things like disorganization, harassment and seemingly backwards ways of doing things (and a million positives as well) Turkey was a surprisingly different place.


There was still not a single place where you could avoid the call the prayer (including our hotel room at 4:15AM!). There were beautiful, huge, impressive mosques everywhere. However, Istanbul was a city that moved, and worked. Public transit ran on time, people left me alone, for the most part, and the food was delicious.


After spending 3 days in Istanbul I flew to Kayseri, and then drove for an hour to the Cappadocia region. The region is famous for its magnificent rocks and what the locals call "fairy chimneys." Three volcanoes erupted many many years ago, and as the sand and rock eroded, the region was left with beautiful hills and valleys. I slept in a cave, and spent two days hiking the region. I could have stayed longer.

A Coptic Respite

This weekend I celebrated the end to two years of teaching in Egypt by heading to Anafora, a Coptic Monastery north of Cairo. I was joined by Tara and Dena, two dear friends from St. John's. Tara is at the beginning of her time in Egypt, and Dena is also bringing her FIVE YEAR career here to a close.

The address for Anafora is simply "Kilometre 150 on the Alexandria highway." Normally I would hire a driver, give him the phone number and be on my way. This is not the case when one travels with Dena. We began with a metro trip as far as the metro would take us (1LE). From there we took a micro bus (4 LE) about 15 minutes to the main microbus station. From there we switched microbuses, waited 40 minutes for the next one to fill up and then paid 7 LE to continue to Anafora.


When we got closer Dena started yelling from the back of the bus "hena queyess" (here's good). Of course they did not believe us, as we got off in the middle of absolutely no where, with this sign as our only marker.

Dena insisted, and we left the bus, entering into the beautiful monastery.

Anafora is self-sufficient. It is a farm, monastery/convent, retreat centre and development centre for Coptic Christians. While we were there, they were running a program for 90 teenage women called, in English, "Daughters of the King" leading them in issues concerning self respect, dignity and rights. Amazing stuff. The food prepared is all grown or bred on-site, organic and delicious.

Our only objective for our two night stay was to rest and relax and get sleep. I read about 10 pages the entire time, and spent the rest wandering, sleeping and sitting by the small wading pool with my feet in the water. It's hard to describe what it is like to come from a city of 20+ million people to a farm in the middle of no where and enjoy the absence of sound. It was hard to tear myself away this morning.

Both evenings after dinner we attended a Coptic prayer service. The coptic language is a mix of Greek and Pharonic languages, not spoken outside of church. The chants and songs were beautiful and haunting, known to all participants in the service by heart.

I wish I had known about Anafora sooner in my time here in Cairo. But I am grateful as my time winds down here that I am still learning about Egypt and the amazingly diverse things this country has to offer.

habibi, habibti

As my time teaching Middle School comes to a roaring halt, I'm beginning to realize how much I will miss my little sweethearts, and how much I've come to enjoy teaching them.

Don't get me wrong. There have been hair-pulling, mind-boggling days, but these are sweet, life-loving kids who make me smile and laugh every day.

Some highlights from Middle School in Egypt...

Little H. has a hug for me every day, sometimes 3 or 4, depending on how many times she wanders past my classroom. She took French first semester, and ever since has said "I miss you."
F. taught me one new arabic word every day (or tried to). "ekher khalem." Final word. "Ya miss, this is a good one, it can be a question and an answer."

T. has the biggest smile I've ever seen, and flashes it for the world to see, even when (especially when?) he's in trouble.

My small beginner grade 7 class who put a fake cockroach on my chair and asked me what I was sitting on. They were witness to what I like to call "The Miss comes undone."

"Ya Miss." This is my title. Nothing more, nothing less. Clearly since even last week I was called Miss Cooper, Miss Mayo, and Miss Simon, they don't know the rest of my name.

Dancing. All the time. Sometimes them, sometimes me. But always, always dancing.I will miss my habibis.

East meeting West: My Neighbour

I did not come to Cairo with any intention of converting any Muslims to Christianity. I suppose that's obvious to some, but still worth saying. I did, however, want to learn more about Islam and understand more about the people who adhere to this religion.

I've written before about how great the church is that I attend here, and a few weeks ago I had yet another example about why this is so. In the middle of May we celebrated the Caravan of the Arts: My Neighbour.


The Caravan uses the Arts as a way to bridge religious gaps and start conversation between East and West, Christian and Muslim.


During, and immediately after the Revolution, Egyptians came together, promoting unity and understanding. Unfortunately, as political unease continued, incidences of sectarian violence returned, and there have been several church burnings and fighting between small groups of Muslims and Christians.

The issue of faith in this country is complex and historical. Coptic Christians are the minority here, making up about 10% of the population. As Egypt rebuilds and moves forward, we hope that Egypt can move forward with a renewed commitment to building bridges and gaining understanding of the 'other' amongst them.