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.

Gianaclis Winery

Whenever we set out on adventures in Egypt, we go in with the mindset that it is going to be
a) so horribly disastrous that it will be awesome, or,
b) so great that it will be awesome.

As you can see, either way, every adventure has a story and some fun, and our trip to the Gianaclis Winery was no exception.


For once in our time in Egypt the day went off without a problem, except for the drive out of Cairo, which was about twice as long as the winery predicted. We spent the day touring the winery, tasting many different wines and enjoyed a nice meal as well. Because this is a brand new industry, wineries have not figured out that they can actually charge a lot more money than they did... I'm okay with that!


As you can see in the picture below, we were served our wine by a Muslim woman. This was a fascinating cultural oddity, one I'm not sure what to do with. The owners of the winery are either foreigners themselves or Christian, but many of their employees are Muslim. Obviously employment is employment, but I couldn't help but wonder what she felt and thought as she served us alcohol.

It was a fun excursion with great friends, many of whom are heading out of Cairo (along with me) this summer. We will miss each other dearly, and have been thoroughly enjoying our last days together!

Revolutionary Fatigue

Revolutions are exhausting. I'm sure you can imagine what this school year has been like.

At the end of March a few of us decided to crunch some numbers.

The longest I have stayed in one spot since November 11 is 20 days. (If we increase that number to 25 days, we can actually go back to June...)

Here's what the pattern looked like, roughly.

Cairo, Israel, Cairo, Abu Simbel, Cairo, Canada, Cairo, Sharm, Canada, Cairo, Kenya, Cairo.

My longest stretch in one spot is right now, today I hit 30 nights sleeping in my own apartment.

Total missed school days this year: 23 (Ramadan, elections, revolutions...)

The kids are cranky, the teachers are cranky. Perhaps we're feeding off of one another, creating this nasty perpetual cycle of crankiness.

Class trips have been canceled, as have school functions like dances and the like, due to concerns about safety and children being out after dark. These children have lost all the things that make school fun.

Last week there was a shooting across the road from the school, involving the theft of an automobile, innocent by-standers, and the police. A lock-down ensued. Lock-downs are difficult in a school without an intercom system.

Three nights last week traffic was so horrendous we spent almost 2 hours each trip sitting still – puddles, oil spills, accidents.

Last night one of our teachers had her laptop stolen off her arm while walking home in the early evening.

I'm reminded again and again that sometimes attitude is a choice, and that to an extent, I have to choose how to react, and which emotions are allowed to guide me.

I see hope and peace in the kites flying into the sunset over Cairo on a 2.5 hour bus ride home.

I hear hope and peace from the Arabic teacher whose office is next to mine. “I am 50. I vote. First time ever. No guns. Just “bye bye Mubarak.”

I see hope and peace on the smile of Gaylor, a 15 year old French-speaking Congolese refugee who has lost his entire family to war and strife, and who had to leave his home of 7 years in Libya to come to Cairo. If he can smile, why can't I?

I hear hope thumping from the psychedelic boats cruising the Nile, where we celebrated a dear friend's birthday, complete with an 'Egyptian pinata' and her 'Revolution mix tape.'

I am so thankful to be part of a profession that allows for two months of real rest. I cannot imagine working a job in a country that is this emotionally intense without that sort of planned break.

As of now, there are 10 weeks of school left. Here's hoping they are quiet, uneventful, and full of more hope and peace.

In the mean time, I will continue to be 'content with tentativeness from day to day.'

Salam.

Kenya

In March, after teaching for two whole weeks, we had our previously scheduled Spring Break. I was able to travel to Nairobi, Kenya, to visit good friends of mine from DCHS, Brian and LeeAnne. They've been living in Nairobi since August, after a four year stint in Korea.

I loved Nairobi, and the national parks all around. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to go to another zoo again!

I spent the week with some other girls who were visiting at the same time, traveling from park to park, taking in nature that I never see here in the concrete jungle we call Cairo. Being in Brian and LeeAnne's presence was fantastic as well, a great time to debrief and refresh for what is shaping up to be an interesting and exhausting school year.

Pink is the colour of freedom

Pink is a hot colour this spring in Egypt.

Yesterday for the first time in .... well, a long time ... Egyptians voted. There was a referendum on amendments to the constitution. Now I'm not an expert on the issues presented, but I've heard the preliminary results were a "yes." I'm not sure what that means.

But it doesn't matter.

What matters is that Egyptians voted. They stood in line (I know!), waited for hours (this is still Egypt, after all), and they cast their "yes" and "no" for the constitution. There were no reported bribes, no stuffing of ballot boxes, and no fighting.

How do you track and register almost 40 million voters in just a few weeks, in a country that does not have the technological infrastructure?

You paint their finger pink. No word of a lie. Cast your vote, dip your finger. It won't wash off for a day or two.

This is Gada. She works at our school. Gada is female, she is Muslim, and yesterday for the first time in her life she voted.

She looks brilliant in pink.

Revolution Tourism

On Saturday we ventured out to Tahrir square to see where history was made. History is still being made, I suppose, and it was very interesting to see first hand the things that have been on the news lately.
There are still small groups forming to protest, especially on weekends. Saturday was the first day that traffic was allowed back in the square, so these soldiers are doing their best to keep a swelling crowd away from the streets. At the time this picture was taken, things were peaceful.

This is the courtyard of the National Democratic Party headquarters (the name of the party leading the government). It is right behind the big pink Egyptian National Museum.

Piles of barbed wire all over the place.

A view of Tahrir and the Egyptian National Museum, with the NDP building in the background.

Street art commemorating what happened between January 25 and February 18, approximately. There are lots of murals around my neighbourhood too, and I will take pictures of those soon.

Returning Home (Home?)

I've been back in Cairo for 4 days now. It is hard to explain to outsiders, but as much as things have drastically changed, things are oddly similar to how they've always been.

I was greeted at the airport by men giving out flowers, saying "welcome in Egypt." They had signs saying they were from Egypt tourism. The general feel on the street is that Egyptians are happy to see foreigners (their livelihood) coming back. This is especially the case in Ma'adi. Mohamed the fruitman gave me strawberries for free last night saying, "thank you for coming back."

The youth of Egypt amaze me. There is such a sense of pride and civic duty which did not have to be taught in school or preached about. They have taken to the streets, painting and tidy-ing up. There are signs posted in front of various buildings in English and Arabic, requesting that people use trash cans and don't make a mess.

There are murals everywhere (pictures coming soon) of the Egyptian flag, and also of beautiful religious symbols showing the Muslim crescent with the Christian cross.

At school things are also back to normal. We have 90% of our children in class, some are gone for now, some are gone permanently. The principal spoke this week to the students about "now what" and what they can do right now to be agents of change. As I listened, I realized that for the first time his words might actually be true. These children of privilege have heard all their lives that they are the future of Egypt and will have power to change it, but for once, it actually could be true.

Children I teach now can actually really dream of being the president/elected leader of this country.

Of course, not all the change has been so positive. When people are on emotional highs, sometimes they do things with their energy that is not wise. Another foreign teacher from another school had her purse grabbed from her by a moving car in Ma'adi the other night, which is completely out of character from Egypt. Yesterday there were further problems because a police officer shot a micro-bus driver. These things remind us that not all is as happy as it seems, and caution and street smarts are a necessity. One of our own bus drivers was involved in an incident where he hit another car, was pulled from his bus and beaten up. Again, it happens, but it is not the way things normally are now.

My neighbourhood is fine. I am never home when the electricity and gas man collect fees, and then they started to think I was gone for good. Yesterday I was chased down the street by the gas man, who saw me and didn't want to miss me again. "Madame, madame, he yelled. Please, madame, the gas."

My natural gas bill for 4 months? 35 LE. ($7)

Yes, it is good to be back in this country.

Images of the Revolution (from my lense...)

Here are some shots showing what life was like for this Canadian in Cairo when the going got exciting...


This is Road 223 on January 28, the first day that huge things happened. Clearly Rd 223 didn't get the message.


With no cell phones and no internet, we had no way of canceling Jen's birthday party, and so we met for food, fun, and revolution.


The next morning this is the entrance to my neighbourhood. The boabs and local men blocked all the entrances so that anyone hoping to loot and riot would be turned away. This was touching, this is the real Egypt.


On our first trip out of Ma'adi in days, we found that the entire suburb had been surrounded by tanks. There were check points everywhere.
En route to Sharm el Sheikh, on the Sinai Peninsulah.

Walk / Talk / Sing / Honk like an Egyptian

I wish I were in Cairo right now for the party. The people of Egypt have spoken and been heard. Hosny Mubarak has stepped down and people are wild with excitement.

No doubt, there are long hard days ahead.

But for now, Egypt is proud, and I am proud to know Egyptians. I can't wait to go back and finish the school year.

A revolutionary Journal

Here is the quickest break down of how I have ended up back in Canada. [Incidentally the phrase 'break down' has been used to describe a lot of things lately - including me.]

Friday January 21 @ Church.
I am talking with some friends about Egypt and Tunisia, and the protests planned for Tuesday's "Police Day" holiday. A friend who knows more about the Middle East and Egypt than any of us, explained that there were protests planned but the police knew about them and it was Egypt, after all, and nothing would really come of them. These things always lose momentum quickly.

Tuesday January 25, Police Day
We had no school, and were urged to stay away from large crowds of people, and preferably stay in Ma'adi. Things would not be too bad, but pay attention.

Things were far worse than everyone thought, and the protests were huge. We stayed in all afternoon, clicking refresh on a website that gave a live feed about the protests. It appeared that the problems were worse in Alexandria and Suez than in cairo.

The government blocked Twitter to squash the movement.

Thursday January 27
The leader of the oposition, El Baradei returns to Egypt after a personal exile out of fear of his life. There are calls for massive protests and demonstrations after prayer time on Friday.

Friday January 28
When I woke up I saw that I had no internet connection. At church, others expressed the same thing. By the time church was out, no one had any cell phone use at all.

At home, I was glued to CNN And AlJazeera along with everyone else. Things were getting drastic and a bit crazy. Violence, shouting, and passion. Go Egypt!

Being without means of communicating is a scary thing, especially when you live alone. We had a birthday party planned for a friend, and we could not cancel it, so I headed to Sara's house, threw some overnight clothes in a bag, and spent the night. As we watched tv, we saw that the government imposed a curfew for 6pm. We tried to go out to take some of the girls home from the party, and every single person on the street (there weren't many) tried to force us back inside. One man said "this is big day for Egypt, but not safe, not good." We put them in a taxi and went back inside.

Saturday January 29
In the morning I returned to my home, and eventually cell phone use was available, at least sporadically. I did some things around the apartment, packed another overnight bag and headed to Maggie and John's. I just didn't feel safe being by myself, as we heard that the police were no longer going to be protecting people and had retreated.

Sunday January 30
Throughout the night we had heard gunshots and saw many men on the streets with sticks. This was a touching "Egypt moment" where the young men in our neighbourhoods and the boabs (door people) took to the street to protect Ma'adi against looting. Without police, they knew things were in their hands. Later we learned that the gunshots were a method of communication, not a problem.

I also learned later that people who lived on Road 9, or in other areas of Ma'adi and Cairo, had a lot more problems than we did in Degla.

As Sunday progressed, things became less and less secure, as we learned that entire prisons had been emptied out, and that things were getting a big chaotic. It's hard to say that I ever felt 100% unsafe, but things were not stable. The school called us and said "pack a bag, possibly one for multiple-country evacuation. We are going to Sharm el Sheikh to wait this out."

Monday January 31
8 hours in a convoy of 4 buses headed through the Sinai peninsula. In yet another "Egypt moment" we were mistakenly led through Egypt's most dangerous city, Suez, instead of around it.

We arrived safely in Sharm, and were told that our stay was indefinite.

Tuesday, February 1
Breakfast. Meeting. Run. Shower. Lunch. Friends. Supper. Drinks. Bed.

Wednesday, February 2
See above. Internet comes back on.

Thursday, February 3
Lather, rinse, repeat.

Friday, February 4
Before going to bed, we were called to an emergency meeting. We were told that by the end of the weekend we would be flown to our home of record to wait things out. Egypt wasn't going to fix itself any time soon, and it would be cheaper to send us home than to pay 10 000 $ a day to keep us all at the resort. We were elated.

Saturday February 5
12 hours after being told we were going to our home of record, the school announced that Cairo was safe, and we would be headed back there on Sunday to resume life as normal. Shannon breaks down, but is not the only one. This is not the time for up and down roller coaster emotions, and we're done. I booked a ticket for Canada.

Sunday, February 6
I left Sharm El Sheikh for Canada, via London. In my suitcase I have 3 swimsuits, 4 pairs of capris, 12 t-shirts, 2 light sweaters and 2 pairs of jeans. Definitely ready to go to Canada.

Monday February 7
Upon checking in for my Heathrow-Pearson leg, I started to cry uncontrollably. I got my own row out of the deal, and yes, I have now learned an important life lesson.

Monday February 7 - ???
I'm in Canada, waiting. The Western attention span with Egypt is very short, and this frustrates me. I check BBC and AlJazeera regularly, but this just isn't news anymore. Nor is it finished.

Still safe, away from Cairo

I've sent emails updating my current situation. Again, I will not be posting that (yet) here.

Suffice it to say that with school being temporarily closed and my future being so uncertain, I'm very restless. I have been doing a ton of writing, and will some day share much more with people who are still reading this.

Tonight has not been a good one, I'm filled with anxiety and worry (are those the same?) and want to be home. But it is not time for that yet.

Barbara Kingsolver once wrote "No matter what kind of night you're having, morning always wins." There have been many times in my life where I have clung to this promise over and over. It is both physically night time right now, and a more figurative night time in Egypt too. Here's hoping morning will win.

Safe amidst the excitment

Today is a pretty big day for Egypt. I'm reluctant to write too much on this open forum, easily traceable public document, but I will say that if you google search things like Egypt riots, Egypt protests or anything of the like, you will figure it out. Please read reputable sources. Keep checking in on this country, things are happening.

So what do we do when school has been (yet again) canceled because of the strong potential for political unrest????

Nothing extraordinary.

We certainly don't go downtown Cairo. But in our neck of the woods, a mere 12 KM from all the action, nothing is different.

We share a meal with friends, watch a movie, and go to bed.

I want to assure everyone of my safety. I am not here for heroics. If things become unstable, and if I feel unsafe, I will be on the next airplane out of here. The school has an evacuation plan, and I will fully comply, if necessary.

In the mean time, pray for Egypt.