One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

The play we just saw at AUC, directed by our friend Mark Mineart, seemed like a good title for this blog entry since we are feeling a little crazed ourselves.

The play, which we saw on opening night, was amazing, moving, beautifully produced and well-acted. Of course, the direction was superb. The set, the music, and most of all, the AUC students who performed knocked us out. They used American accents and diction (and I know these kids, that is not how they talk), hit their marks, and all in all, it was wonderful. We were so proud for Mark. I bet once the run is over, Sarah will be very happy to have her spouse back.

AUC poster for the play

Pivotal moment in the play

On Thursday, we went to a potluck dinner in honor of Bruce and Annemarie Lohof, who are retiring from directing the Binational Fulbright Commission in Egypt after steering it for seven years. Talk about bittersweet. Bruce has done so much for all the Fulbrighters and I feel especially lucky to know him.

Harris and Bruce yukking it up

Fulbrighters enjoying dinner

Fulbright student Heather Hunt and me (intensive Arabic!)

I got a horrible piece of news in class on Sunday. One of my favorite students, Heba Hamza, was not in class; her friend Nour told me that was because Heba’s father had been hit by a car and killed the day before. That was bad enough—I know Heba has siblings, including a 9-year-old; but her father was president of Ains Shams University and a highly distinguished professor of medicine with specialties in liver transplants and pediatrics. It was not just a loss for a family, but for Egypt. My heart breaks for my beautiful and talented student and her family.

Heba Hamza in class

Last time, I listed things I’ll miss and things I won’t miss. One of the latter category loudly announced itself the other day. Below our flat, just under where we have our office, is a nursery school and a music school. I’m pretty good at tuning out kids plinking out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” but it is impossible to tune out the nursery school kids hollering on their playground. Particularly every two weeks, when the school hosts a party for parents at which the kids sing along to Arabic pop amplified to the volume of a 747 taking off. For 3 hours. Every two weeks. Think about it, and I hope you can imagine my frustration the first time it happened when I was ready to go down and give them what-for. Happily, Harris pointed out that we were guests here, it was a party, and we just had to live with it. We have learned since then to move ourselves to the living room on party days and shut all doors and windows.

View from our back porch; nursery school gathering at end of green strip

Add very loud Arabic pop for three hours....

American entrepreneurs, here’s an idea from Egyptian culture: tissues here are usually sold in soft packs and then transferred to permanent holders. It saves on cardboard packaging, looks nicer (my example is a handmade paper box with ribbon ties—but they range from fake fur to embroidered silks), and the reusable boxes provide jobs for their makers, and pleasure for their owners.

I love the tissue boxes here, and think the concept is environmentally clever

Ironically, when we return to Connecticut, I am certain it will seem preternaturally quiet! Honking, vendor hollering and beating drums for their ware, the nursery school kids, the calls to prayer—life in Cairo is lived out loud.