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.