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uluating from utah

I’m back in the US and I’m not worried about writing things that might get me in trouble anymore. In this spirit, I’m going to post a very interesting editorial written by Robert Fisk in the Independent.

I’ve got a lot to say about my time in Egypt, and that will be coming in the next few days. Stay tuned, internerdship.

The rotten state of Egypt is too powerless and corrupt to act

by Robert Fisk


There was a day when we worried about the “Arab masses” – the millions of “ordinary” Arabs on the streets of Cairo, Kuwait, Amman, Beirut – and their reaction to the constant bloodbaths in the Middle East. Could Anwar Sadat restrain the anger of his people? And now – after three decades of Hosni Mubarak – can Mubarak (or “La Vache Qui Rit”, as he is still called in Cairo) restrain the anger of his people? The answer, of course, is that Egyptians and Kuwaitis and Jordanians will be allowed to shout in the streets of their capitals – but then they will be shut down, with the help of the tens of thousands of secret policemen and government militiamen who serve the princes and kings and elderly rulers of the Arab world.

Egyptians demand that Mubarak open the Rafah crossing-point into Gaza, break off diplomatic relations with Israel, even send weapons to Hamas. And there is a kind of perverse beauty in listening to the response of the Egyptian government: why not complain about the three gates which the Israelis refuse to open? And anyway, the Rafah crossing-point is politically controlled by the four powers that produced the “road map” for peace, including Britain and the US. Why blame Mubarak?

To admit that Egypt can’t even open its sovereign border without permission from Washington tells you all you need to know about the powerlessness of the satraps that run the Middle East for us.

Open the Rafah gate – or break off relations with Israel – and Egypt’s economic foundations crumble. Any Arab leader who took that kind of step will find that the West’s economic and military support is withdrawn. Without subventions, Egypt is bankrupt. Of course, it works both ways. Individual Arab leaders are no longer going to make emotional gestures for anyone. When Sadat flew to Jerusalem – “I am tired of the dwarves,” he said of his fellow Arab leaders – he paid the price with his own blood at the Cairo reviewing-stand where one of his own soldiers called him a “Pharaoh” before shooting him dead.

The true disgrace of Egypt, however, is not in its response to the slaughter in Gaza. It is the corruption that has become embedded in an Egyptian society where the idea of service – health, education, genuine security for ordinary people – has simply ceased to exist. It’s a land where the first duty of the police is to protect the regime, where protesters are beaten up by the security police, where young women objecting to Mubarak’s endless regime – likely to be passed on caliph-like to his son Gamal, whatever we may be told – are sexually molested by plain-clothes agents, where prisoners in the Tora-Tora complex are forced to rape each other by their guards.

There has developed in Egypt a kind of religious facade in which the meaning of Islam has become effaced by its physical representation. Egyptian civil “servants” and government officials are often scrupulous in their religious observances – yet they tolerate and connive in rigged elections, violations of the law and prison torture. A young American doctor described to me recently how in a Cairo hospital busy doctors merely blocked doors with plastic chairs to prevent access to patients. In November, the Egyptian newspaper Al-Masry al-Youm reported how doctors abandoned their patients to attend prayers during Ramadan.

And amid all this, Egyptians have to live amid daily slaughter by their own shabby infrastructure. Alaa al-Aswani wrote eloquently in the Cairo paper Al-Dastour that the regime’s “martyrs” outnumber all the dead of Egypt’s wars against Israel – victims of railway accidents, ferry sinkings, the collapse of city buildings, sickness, cancers and pesticide poisonings – all victims, as Aswani says, “of the corruption and abuse of power”. Opening the Rafah border-crossing for wounded Palestinians – the Palestinian medical staff being pushed back into their Gaza prison once the bloodied survivors of air raids have been dumped on Egyptian territory – is not going to change the midden in which Egyptians themselves live.

Sayed Hassan Nasrallah, the Hizbollah secretary general in Lebanon, felt able to call on Egyptians to “rise in their millions” to open the border with Gaza, but they will not do so. Ahmed Aboul Gheit, the feeble Egyptian Foreign Minister, could only taunt the Hizbollah leaders by accusing them of trying to provoke “an anarchy similar to the one they created in their own country.”

But he is well-protected. So is President Mubarak.

Egypt’s malaise is in many ways as dark as that of the Palestinians. Its impotence in the face of Gaza’s suffering is a symbol of its own political sickness.

My parents left yesterday after a lovely week and a half and another special guest is arriving imminently. Also, today I am twenty years old! Goodbye teenagehood and its intrinsic glories, helllllo world of the elderly!

I’ve been keeping busy these past weeks and my pirated internet has been playing games with my e-heart. I’m pretty behind in updates but I will post an elaborate adventure-sodden retelling soon if only to keep those Gilman lags on their toes. For now I have but one story for you dear readership:

Moms Go For a Swim at the Aquatic Grotto

Yesterday I decided to treat my mothers to an early afternoon Last-Day-in-Cairo-Picnic. I chose the intriguing Aquatic Grotto on the island of Zamalek for the venue. We packed some bread and cheese, paid the 1LE entrance fee, and feasted on a low green bench. The park was pleasant but a tad unremarkable. I wondered when it had earned its title of “Aquatic Grotto” – it seemed undeserved. Presently a bent man in a filthy brown uniform beckoned us towards him, muttering the English and Arabic words for ‘fish’. “This sounds like a great idea!” I said to myself and followed this small man into a dark cavern I hadn’t noticed before.

It was like when Simba foolishly follows those nasty hyenas into one of the places the light never touches. Only, instead of being full of terrifying cartoon characters, this cave was teeming with Romancing Egyptians. Seriously, men were wooing hijabi-ed women in every knobbly corner of this artificial underground lair. Mom was getting a little nervous: toothless fish-whisperers are one thing, but couples?!

We gritted our teeth and bore it. Eventually our ‘guide’ brought us to our destination – a grimy glass terrarium. He lectured in fast, ominous Arabic that I couldn’t quite understand. I put my face up to the glass. Suspended just in front of me in three rows of formaldehyde-heavy jars were several mummified fish and what might have been a previous guest’s appendix.

Cairo is a city of hidden treats: some just like the Aquatic Grotto (or, as it is regularly called, the Fish Garden). I hope to continue finding those that are nothing like the Fish Garden, although to be fair admission was cheap and there was an incredible soft-shell turtle with a pig snout. Seriously.

I don’t want it to seem that I treated my parents poorly – we spent several days of their visit down south in the part of Egypt that really feels like Africa, wandering some of the most incredible ancient monuments in Luxor and Thebes, feasting, and riding in a 1920’sesque sleeper car replete with fold-out bunk beds and in-car sink. I think they went home satisfied – is that true, Mom?

The end of this semester is shaping up really well. This week is going to be fantastic, and I’m thinking of going to Istanbul soon.

Nineteen was a really good time. Here’s to twenty!

I was thinking about dinner and looking up savory crepes on a hot tip from a friend, and one of the first links to pop up on google is an order form for Pasta Pisa (in Medford). (!)

If only I had enough Points for international delivery!

It rained in Cairo yesterday! This is very rare. My class got out early and my professor had these words to say, “Rainy days in Egypt are kind of like snow days everywhere else. Get out of here.”

The best part of this elemental oddity was the way it cleared the pollution out of the sky. It was like in Evil Dead when Bruce Cambell finally burns the book of the dead and the last zombie melts.

it looked like this.

This morning I weaved my way through the Mogamma to renew my visa. It had expired by a month (yeesh!) but instead of a firm telling off, the woman at the desk laughed and laughed and then made me pay 150LE. Consider me chastised!

Also, if you’re keeping abreast of Egyptian politics, this is important: Woman Wins Landmark Sexual Harassment Case. I haven’t had too much trouble in this area yet, but I have certainly heard plenty of stories. The worst I’ve gotten are some unnecessary comments, and what may have been a misplaced hand in the Khan el-Khalili souks.

Cairo is the safest city I’ve ever been in. You might get bamboozled into overpaying for things, but your wallet will stay secure in your back pocket and walking feels safe at any hour. This makes it even more frustrating to get rude comments or gestures. My favorite is when I walk past a man arm-in-arm with a lady and he takes a moment as we pass each other to mutter, “beautiful girl.” It’s like, thank you, but don’t you think there’s a better way to make friends? I’m just glad to learn that Egyptian women are every bit as fiery as they seem. The woman in this case rode on the top of the harasser’s car in order to get some help. What a lady!

In other news, me and Cairo are getting along great, I’m jonesin daily for Obama, and my parents get here in two weeks! How are you?

It’s Tuesday, the best day of the week! I’m sitting in a McDonalds in Maadi, using the free wireless and preparing for the English class I’m about to teach. There are about twenty-five kids behind me celebrating a birthday and popping balloons surreptitiously when their moms aren’t looking. Is it hard for me not to join in? Oh, you betcha.

Maadi may be one of the strangest places in Cairo. It’s well known as an ex-pat haven, littered not with trash but rather with baseball fields, foreigner-only clubs, and these familiar Golden Arches. The streets are winding, tree-lined, and quiet. In a couple minutes I’m going to hop into the women’s only car on the metro and ride a few stops to the edge of Maadi – an area that rather abruptly changes from Little America to donkeys, street food, and dusty alleys. If you weave your way down the alley across from Jamaica clothing store, you’ll find my classroom – crammed with mismatched chairs and cheerful Sudanese refugees mixing up their tenses.

This is what constantly bugs, intrigues, and excites me about Cairo. It’s a thousand different cities in one. You can walk out of a swanky, upper-class area and be knee-deep in refuse within ten minutes. And, get this: the people in the swanky part (see al-Azhar park) have no idea that the other part even exists (see Trash City)! I mentioned the trash collectors to my Arabic professor today, and she didn’t believe me. She assured me that the trash collectors make loads of money selling their recycled goods. Wealth out of waste, huh? It’s a pleasant idea, but the utter opposite of what you’ll see if you direct a cab driver into the Moqattam Hills for a visit with the Zabaleen.

The rooms of these buildings are stuffed full with unsorted trash.. and people.

The rooms of these buildings are stuffed full with unsorted trash.. and people.

Class misunderstandings (and that’s the friendly way to say it) are frequent here. In Dahab I was told that the Bedouins are rich – even though Bedouin kids start hawking bracelets before they’re five years old. In the city it’s the Christian trash collectors who are supposed to be the undeservedly wealthy – even as Cairo’s filth piles up beneath their dining room tables.

Sheesh. I’m getting in deeper than I thought. Living in Egypt has really made me value my right to vote. There was a big screw-up at the Embassy here where they gave us the wrong information about mailing ballots, but some clever voters fixed the glitch. I’m filling out and fed-exing my Federal Write-In Ballot tomorrow. If you’re abroad – don’t forget to vote! If you forgot to request a ballot, it might not be too late! Email your local government! I myself got a personal email from the mayor of Somerville (nice). In the words of Colin Powell, Fareed Zakaria and the Chicago Tribune: Barack Obama for President!

Stay tuned, dear readers. I have much more to tell you soon. Here are some teasers: The Time I Crawled Down a Robbers Tunnel Into a Tomb (or, Mummy Dust in my Lungs), The Time I Watched Experimental Spaniards At the Opera, and finally, How I Messed Up (or Kicked Butt) My First Time Teaching.

wihishtokoo katiir aowy! !!وحشتكو كتير اوي

CRL: one plus twenty

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAITLIN!!

caitlin reilly lacey

Me and Caitlin have been pals for a long time now. Thus..

an ode to CRL!

Our bus slips to a stop and I jerk awake. My bangs are plastered to my forehead, and my friend Ben is sleeping next to me with his head back and his jaw hanging wide. I watch a fly ponderously consider entering his mouth for a few moments before I register that we really have come to a standstill.  I push back the orange curtain that’s been shielding me from the sun, and come face to face with the crammed microbus that’s stopped in the next lane. We make glancing eye contact – he glances up, I glance down. I retreat. I wipe a bead of sweat from my chin and tip my head back to see over the seats in front of me. Banged up black and white cabs mingle with buses, pieces of granite in a desert of white. Several meters ahead, a red delivery truck has turned on its side, blocking 3 of the lanes. “Shit,” mutters Ben, blinking and licking his lips, “That looks bad. We’re going to be here forever.”

People flood towards the overturned truck, darting between idling cars and leaping over the guardrail. The driver of my bus hesitates only a moment before pressing the air release of the door and joining the crowd. The men arrange themselves around the red truck, some pushing, some pulling, some trying not to get squished. It starts to rock. “Ben!” I say, “They’re flipping it over!”

Ben’s fallen back asleep. The red delivery truck is on its wheels and out of the roadway just before the single flashing motorcycle of roadside assistance arrives. Men dash back to their driving seats, engines stutter and cough. We resume the slow crawl back to Cairo. I glance out the window.

 

 

 

One Thing I Learned Today:

1. In Arabic, the word for one banana is also slang for something very raunchy. My Arabic professor blushed when I asked her what it was that strangers had been whispering.

I’m really glad to see the end of Ramadan. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate the rowdy Iftars and private strolls along the Nile at dusk, but Cairo seems a little more put-together. Everybody is a little more cheerful now that their bellies are full. Also, every Muslim who has been fasting morning til night got a week off to feast and celebrate – and so did those of us “Christians” who sipped our water and snacked on Egyptian animal crackers discretely during class time.

Eid el-Fetr gave me a week or so to travel – and adventurous dreams of backpacking Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan were squashed when I cross-checked plane tickets with my bank account. Sad. But, I had borrowed a backpack and a tiny sleeping bag and I ended up embarking on a trip with a gregarious gang of go-getters. I apologize for excessive alliteration, but I think you’ll see what I mean.

We took the 40LE (~8 USD) bus from Cairo to Saint Catherine, gave up our passports at security checkpoints a couple times and arrived in the evening. We had some dinner and drank some tea with the hospitable Sheikh Mousa before climbing this mountain a little after midnight:

Legend accepts Mt. Sinai as the peak Moses climbed to recieve the commandments - and by the time you reach the top, you really feel like you deserve some kind of holy reward.

Legend accepts Mt. Sinai as the peak Moses climbed to receive the commandments - and by the time you reach the top, you really feel like you deserve some kind of holy reward.

 

We made it to the top just in time to wrap up tight and watch the sunrise.

We made it to the top just in time to wrap up tight and watch the sunrise.

in addition to polish people and old ladies, there were hella religious pilgrims.
In addition to Polish People and old ladies, there were hella religious pilgrims watching the sun rise with us.

We climbed down, met up with Sheikh Mousa and slept for several hours on some pillows at his camp. We had discovered upon our arrival that due to the recent kidnappings of tourists in Aswan that we couldn’t sleep outside on our own, and even the persuasive persuasions of Mandrew wouldn’t change the mind of the sheikh. That evening Yehia arrived with his sister Mena and several friends who taught us Egyptian slang and tucked us in sweetly for the night.

the next day we teamed up and climbed mt. catherine - the tallest mountain in egypt!
The next day we teamed up and climbed Mt. Catherine, the tallest mountain in Egypt.
we hiked for seven hours, stopping once for lunch and several times for our guide to roll a joint.
We hiked for seven hours, stopping once for lunch and several times for our guide to roll a joint.
did the wind taste like victory? the sun like success? was the rocky cliff a warm comfort to our beleaguered bottoms? yes yes, and indeed, yes.
Did the wind taste like victory? The sun like success? Was the rocky cliff a warm comfort to our beleaguered bottoms? Yes yes, and indeed, yes.

The hike down was ridiculous! We were exhausted, sore, and several flashlights short but the sky was bursting with stars and the mountains were shadows teetering on both sides of us. Everybody was a little loopy and we sang mangled versions of the Egyptian and US national anthems as we descended.

We ended the trip back in Dahab. Thats Saudi Arabia in the background.
We ended the trip in Dahab. That’s Saudi Arabia in the background.

There are loads more pictures up on my picasa if you’re curious . It was a great trip. I got a ride home from the airport with my friend Karim’s friend Karim. Karim II came a long way out of his way for me and the whole affair was a primo example of Egyptian friendliness. Friendship results in favors and its all very charming, really.

I’m back in Cairo now and everybody seems to be in a post-travel slump. This past week was full of midterms, free pizza, and smoggy skies. I can’t decide if I like this city. More on that later.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Sam Cooke lately. He’s good for warm nights on the balcony, cup of chamomile in hand and Cairo glistening below.

The best thing I’ve discovered lately are the roofs. Photos are forthcoming, but my internet is slower than the DMV in gummy roller skates. I live on the fifteenth floor of my building, and the seventeenth is the roof. No haberdashery is required, only some legs and a stomach for heights. There is a series of ladders that leads to even greater heights. From the top, you can see Cairo sprawling in every direction, the Nile twisting through her and tying her together. On clear days (read: less smoggy) you can see the first of Giza’s pyramids lurking on the horizon.

The same is true of my friend Mitch’s place downtown, except his flat is the entire top floor. They strung up some colored lights this weekend, the result of which has been truly charming evenings sampling Egyptian beer and fresh fruit from street vendors. Downtown is a fantastic place to live, if you’re willing to sacrifice some of the cleanliness and functionality of your apartment – you’ll have leaks and bugs but you’ll be in the beating heart of the city. Anything you can dream of can be found cheaply within a block or two, and the streets will be populated until well past three in the morning.

I took the Metro downtown a couple evenings ago, and it was just as easy and modern as I’d heard. There is a women’s only car which is invariably less crowded and thankfully free of cat calls and leers. I had a bit of a crisis when I couldn’t remember which stop was mine, but a couple of seasoned Metroers pointed me in the right direction in swift Arabic. They watched me out the door to make sure I took the right exit. I was grateful for the help, but I am always a little embarassed – if people paid less attention, they’d see me make fewer mistakes.

A few kids followed me down the street once I emerged from underground. When I turned to say hello, they insisted on shaking my hand. I felt kind of like the President. I asked them their names (enta ismaak ey?) and they got a kick out of my accent. Nura, Sarah, and Omar ran away looking smug. Egyptian kids are my favorites. They will strike up any kind of conversation, and bat not one eyelash when your arabic limps pathetically after theirs. They’re fiery and feisty and grin with all their teeth.

In other news, I had my first test today. I’ve officially memorized a map of ancient Egypt (this is for my Egyptology class – we also went on an awesome tour of the Egyptian museum) I’ll be a great tour guide when you (yes, you) come visit.

Things I Like

I’ve been in Egypt for a little over three weeks now (buhh?) and I think I might have gotten my footing well enough to present you with this: A List of Things to Like About Egypt

me drinking my first cup of mango at al capone's in dahab

1. Freshly squeezed juice. It’s on every menu here (to be fair, with the exception of establishments like Pizza Hut and Hardee’s, every restaurant really has the same menu) and it’s the best thing next to tree-houses. Drinking the juice is like biting into a liquified fruit. Mango is my favorite, but you can usually choose from strawberry, lemon, and guava as well. 

2. Egyptians. Now it would be fair to guess that Egypt’s economic dependence on tourism might spur some of the cries of “Welcome! Welcome!” that bustle around visitors walking through Cairo, but so far I’ve come to be very fond of the Egyptians that I meet. People are exceedingly helpful and accommodating, if also exceedingly curious. It’s easy to strike up conversations, and it’s easy to ask for directions (although you can’t trust that you’ll get correct ones). People here shout to strangers with questions, ask cab drivers for change from moving cars, and kiss one another on both cheeks in greeting. Sometimes I get overwhelmed, but most of the time I appreciate that giving a real laugh or smile will help ease me past any cultural quandary. 

catnapping is a professional skill

catnapping is a professional skill

3. President Mubarak.  Well.. almost. Two weeks ago I was in Alexandria with AUC when I found myself with a kitten in my bag. This little guy was sleeping in a park, practically begging for a home. I said to myself, “the time is right!” and swept off with him. He was very quiet on the bus and I fed him bits of fish that I’d lifted from dinner the night before. I almost got in big trouble at the Library of Alexandria (they searched our bags) and later when the SOL’s found out. Luckily, we were halfway home and at that point there was nothing to be done. Phew. Now he’s thriving in Cairo, and has taken up to sleeping in my bed. My flatmate plans to take him home at the end of her year here. His name started out as a politically insensitive joke, but it seems to have stuck. 

4. The exchange rate. Right now it’s 5.3 LE to $1. The pluses of this are myriad, the minuses lie in that it is very easy to become ms. moneybags and live on the upper crust with all the other visiting Americans. Only imagine if I were European! Men in the army and lower government positions get paid less than 200LE a year. It explains a lot, least of which is the near-constant scamming. But hey, it’s not like I can’t afford it.

5. Ancient Egypt. I’ve only ridden horses by the pyramids and that was enough for me to marvel. They aren’t like Mt. Rushmore or Dustin Hoffman – instead of being disappointingly small, they seem too big to be allowed. I played a game of frizbee on a field in Maadi on Sunday and it was hard to focus on the game because the disc kept whizzing across an epic view of the pyramids.

Also, I’m taking an Egyptology class with a seriously bad-ass professor. She has a mummified rabbit in her office that she herself mummified while disproving one of Heroditus’ critics. As if that weren’t enough, she is a curator at the Egyptian Museum and our final project is to label an artifact from the museum. If they’re good enough, they’ll take a permanent place in the exhibit.

this is where i sleep, and this picture was to document the apartment for my landlord. cozy cozy.

this is where i sleep, it's cozy and (now) very clean.

 6. My apartment. I’m really very fond of it right now. This weekend we had some trouble with biting ants in our beds and I swept into a cleaning spree.. before I knew it I’d bleached the whole place. We’re on the fifteenth floor of an apartment building on the island of Zamalek, in the middle of the Nile. Our view is mediocre, but I befriended the boys who live across the hall and they have a spectacular view of the two branches of the nile coming together, framing the city. I spend a lot of evenings on their balcony. 

P.S. I put some new photos up on picasa. It took almost as long to put them on the internet as it took to find King Tut.

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