End of February, all is well so far

It is tempting fate to say that things are calm, but it’s fair to say that so far, things are calm. Teaching proceeds normally, and my students seem to be getting into the rhythm of the classes (and doing the work, by and large). It gives me pleasure to prepare for class since the material is interesting to me, and I get to reread some favorite texts.

On Friday the 24^th, both of us awoke with a strong sense of being homesick. It came out of the blue, maybe because Fridays here make us particularly aware of being Other in this culture. It’s the big day for midday prayers, and the imam’s sermons are blasted from the towers of minarets. Since we live between two mosques, we get stereo sermons; since we don’t understand what is being said but can hear the characteristic strident tone, it’s intimidating. For all we know, the imams could be saying “let’s kill Americans” or they could be saying “let’s embrace peace and love.”  If I go to the gym on Friday and my walk there coincides with prayers, I have to walk on the far side of the street from the mosque. I was asked, very politely, to do so by a security guard; don’t know if it’s because there are lots of praying men all around the mosque and it would be rude to go near them, or if it would be rude because I am a female and non-Muslim. But one thing I am sure of: I am Other.

News photo of men and boys praying on Friday outside a crowded mosque

I’m working on photos of another thing I notice here that cracks me up. Lots of cars, particularly taxis, have stickers plastered across their back windows that depict the international glyphs for things like WiFi, restaurant (crossed fork and knife), WC, DVD, airport, and other things I feel confident your average taxi does not have on board. Another frequently seen sticker is one of the torso of a muscular young man in a tee shirt with the words “X Men” on the shirt. Possibly the silliest is one I see is mostly on trucks, a cowboy hat with the words “Cowboy Up!”  In the U.S., stickers on your car invariably relate to your life, whether it’s where you park, where your kids went to school, if you love diving, or support a political candidate. Here, the stickers are decoration and clearly their popularity spreads virally.

Do you think the taxi really offers food service?

Where do the stickers go--back of the cart or the horse's behind?

We hired a new housekeeper, Nagat, who is an elegant woman who reads and writes English, wears Chanel N.5, has traveled to the U.S. and Europe (skied in Taos!), and comes three times a week. On two of the three days, she arrives with her daughters Jahane and Suhir, and the three of them move furniture, roll up rugs, and generally scrub the place within an inch of its life. Our flat smells great! On her third day, Nagat comes alone and does ironing, some of the lighter cleaning, linens, and so forth. I feel like we have upgraded to a five star hotel staff. Nagat also cooks well, and when I mentioned that I did not like cheese, she asked whether I like a béchamel sauce. Wow. Same salary as Kiki, who does not read or write at all, and whose work was intermittent at best. I thank the university’s faculty services coordinator, who keeps a list of housekeepers recommended by AUC employees.

Nagat’s Chanel N.5 reminds me of a change living here has made. Egyptian women who are educated preen. I wear lots more eyeliner here because everyone else does, and, frankly, it’s fun outlining top and bottom with black or green. I also have begun having my eyebrows dyed brown, a change from their invisible blond, and wear more lipstick here. How curious it is in a culture in which patriarchy rules that liberation finds voice in makeup? My students are just as aware of the contradictions as I am, and I enjoy talking with them about being a feminist in lots of eyeliner. I suspect my eyeliner consumption will diminish once I return to CT.

We took a few hours on Saturday to fly the coop to a local arts center founded by architect and arts advocate Ramses Wissa. The Wissa center, on the road to Saqqara, is a lovely complex built in traditional adobe materials and the forms of housing of a much earlier Egypt. Wissa created the complex to offer young people a place to learn to weave and create, learn a trade, and creative expression rather than hanging out on the streets. It’s grown over the years and has become quite the atelier for tapestry-makers. I wish I could say I liked the regnant aesthetic of Wissa’s arts, but I don’t. Although there are glorious traditions of weaving and decoration here, the typical Wissa tapestry is a bad marriage between folk art and impressionistic imagery. I did score a couple of nice coffee mugs, and we had fun hanging out with colleagues and friends.

Wissa arts center

Adobe roof of Wissa arts center

Tapestry maker at his loom

Detail of his tapestry. Not my taste at all.....

Lots of meetings on campus this week, and the week will end with a potluck dinner party here with some friends from the university. Time for me to go off to the gym for a core class with the aptly-named Butcher!

Even cauliflower can be beautiful.

Post-strike, February

Whether it’s real politik, fear of losing a job, or emotional exhaustion, the general strike called to begin February 11^th and go through the 18^th seems not to have affected much in our lives. I had a boring week of no teaching; instead, I went to the gym, we had a couple of dinners with our buddies Sarah and Mark, I read a bunch of books, watched an entire season of “Downton Abbey,” and did work preparing for classes to come. Students took their protesting seriously, however.

AUC students protesting military rule; the poster is of the student killed in Port Said

BTW, on a clear day, I can see the Pyramids from one of the machines at the gym (one that mimics skating). Kind of cool to gaze on the remaining wonder of the ancient world while sweating to the oldies.

Sarah has been volunteering a few days a week with two organizations helping refugees from the Sudan. There are about 75,000 refugees in Cairo, most with little prospect of a job or education. One of the organizations helps provide daycare for kids so their mothers can work (usually as a housekeeper); the other provides a broader range of services. FYI, here are their websites:

http://www.ahlc.info/

http://www.naathcairo.com/

Sarah sent me this photo of some of the kids she is working with. Puts things in perspective. My worst gripe about the strike was boredom, whereas not working is life or death for many.

Some of Sarah's Sudanese kids

Harris and I went to the town of Ismailia Thursday through Saturday for a conference sponsored by the Binational Fulbright Commission in Egypt. It was organized to showcase the work the student grantees are doing, mostly young people just out of college or working on graduate degrees. The student grantees were genuinely impressive, working hard on topics ranging from Arabic poetry and calligraphy, to public health issues like obesity and hepatitis C, to refugees and the mish-mash of housing for the very poor that comprises the “informal cities.” 

Fulbright students presenting their work

Gang of Fulbrighters and staff in Ismailia

Did you know that Egypt has the highest percentage of population with hepatitis C of any country in the world at 14.8%? By contrast, it’s about 2% in the U.S., and the next country below Egypt is around 5%. The student working on how it’s transmitted here believes that an major inoculation effort during the 1950s and 1960s to combat schistosomiasis, a blood fluke common in Nile water, was responsible for transmitting the disease so widely since kids were lined up in schools and injected one after the next from the same glass syringes, over a series of nine injections. She is investigating how it’s transmitted from mother to child, and noted that people have all kinds of wild theories as to its transmission, from fertilizer to swimming pools. Not surprisingly, the extraordinary number of Egyptians infected with this fatal disease that causes liver cancer or failure does not provide the government with bragging rights. Sadly, keeping it quiet and not working with world health organizations serves to keep the percentage so high. 

View from our balcony of the canal

Ismailia roadside vendor

News photo of an Egyptian checkpoint

Because of its strategic importance, security in Ismailia is very high. Our bus had to pass a checkpoint manned with soldiers and tanks (Harris wisely stayed my hand from photographing them). We had a police escort everywhere we went in the city, and were strongly urged not to to leave the hotel the one night we had free. At the Canal Authority, we were given a tour and lecture by their PR man, Mr. Khalil, whose speaking manner reminded me of an authoritarian general, as did his profoundly nationalist history of the canal. Our boat tour of the canal was cancelled owing to terrible cold windy weather (the Authority had to close the canal for a day), but we did go to the clubhouse for Canal Authority people and watched tankers go by as we ate a surprisingly good lunch the next day when the Canal reopened.

Bad weather hits the canal

Note the "Welcome to Egypt" sign on the far bank

Not only is there a shooting club for Canal Authority personnel, but click on the photo to look at the logo

Returning to our flat brought a surprise. Our housekeeper, Kiki, had left the place turned upside down, probably thinking we were gone for a longer trip, and she clearly had at least one outsider with her while she had been here. Since I had spoken with her explicitly about not bringing in outsiders without asking me in advance, she is now fired. You can imagine how unsettling it is to have someone with keys to your house who flouts your clear house rules. I’m shopping for a new housekeeper and have two with sterling credentials whom I will interview this week.

It was a relief to return to the classroom and get back to business and structure, especially now that “Downton Abbey” is over for the season. I was back in the classroom today and campus is normal.

AUC, back to normal

Harris is looking forward to a presentation he’ll give in March on John Keats’s poem “To Autumn” for the AUC literature club. He’s also giving a university-wide presentation in April on his latest research on early rock and roll, a public presentation of an article forthcoming in the journal “Popular Music and Society” (unfortunate acronym). Plus he is just about finished with the article-turned-book-length manuscript on poetic theory. I, instead, write this blog and articles for a scuba newsletter, but the May Fulbright meeting at which I present my work from this year means I have to put my Deep Thoughts in a row. Especially after hearing what the students are doing. Your tax dollars at work, folks.

PS: the things you see on the roads here sometimes crack me up. Why ride when you can snooze? And the former Mubarek Police Academy is now just Police Academy, without Steve Gutenberg or Leslie Neilson.

A soft ride

Where's "Police Academy 3"?

Egypt has been invaded by As Seen on TV: Big Mouth Billy Bass

February 9th, more of the new normal

Boy, do we not live in Kansas! Shortly after classes began, unrest and changes took hold. The University cancelled classes Sunday the 5^th for a memorial to a young man killed in Port Said, an AUC student who was to have graduated this month; and now classes are cancelled this Sunday, the 11^th, so students and staff can participate in a country-wide general strike. I remember February 11^th last year: Harris and I were in Chicago for a weekend, and I was in the bathtub when CNN announced that Mubarek was stepping down. I’d been keeping track of news in Egypt particularly because I was waiting to hear about whether I won the Fulbright. So this general strike, coinciding with the 11^th, should not come as a big surprise. It just means I have to re-write my course syllabi again, and probably not for the last time.

On campus yesterday, students were rallying and hollering away in Arabic (that’s when my ignorance of the language is frustrating). It seems like part of their education during these turbulent times is participating in social change rather than parsing poetry or learning formulas. On one hand, they are missing things that may be important, but on the other hand, they are living history. How can they not be part of it? It’s been interesting to see how my queries to them regarding whether to hold class Sunday the 12^th are shaking out. Some would like to come but plan on joining demonstrations; others are staying home by order of their parents. If you know me, you probably know I am pretty organized and not terribly flexible, but teaching at AUC is teaching me the latter!

AUC protest; posters depict AUC student killed in Port Said last week

FYI, this is a paragraph from the alerts we get from State regularly:

This emergency message is to alert U.S. citizens that on Saturday, February 11 several labor and political groups have announced a call for a general strike throughout Egypt in recognition of the one year anniversary of former President Mubarak stepping down.  It is reported that a number of labor organizations have committed to participate along with revolutionary youth parties.  At least one major political group has stated publicly that it will not participate in the strike.  While the overall impact of the strike cannot be predicted, the possibility exists that some businesses will be closed and greater traffic congestion likely.  We have been informed that the airport will remain open and is expected to function normally.  U.S. citizens are advised to avoid the downtown areas of Cairo and other large cities, as well as any large gatherings or protests that could emerge. 

And yes, we are always ready to depart in a hurry, a bag packed, passports and money at the ready. I think of it as insurance, there so you don’t need it.

Sarah and Mark Mineart’s adopted cat, Eliza Who Does Little, came with a story. Sarah told me that street cats in Cairo are not just abandoned but often badly abused. Eliza came to Sarah with scratches on her nose, and worse yet, bled from her rectum. Street cats are used by thuggish boys for sex, if you can imagine, as well as torture—evidently, it’s common for kids to loop a rope around a cat’s neck and swing it like a lariat. It’s the kind of behavior that one might expect from the young Jeffrey Dahmer, and gives some insight into the contradictions of this culture, in which family is held dear yet life often seems cheap. I had a similar reaction when I went into a nearby shop that sells parrots. The shelves were filled with cramped cages with six cockatiels to a cage; the African Grays had plucked their own feathers out; and the only food for the birds were seeds and filthy water (seeds alone for parrots is akin to feeding a child only butter). No matter how bad my need for a feather fix is, I can’t go in there again. If I do, I know I will give the owner, a nearly blind old fellow, all my money and have to find homes for 100 birds.

Eliza close-up; note her scarred nose

Note Eliza's position near food bowls; could that be a message?

Harris and I went back to the Khan on Tuesday with Emad for a return to Atlas Silks for the third adjustment to my chemises (my opinion of their tailor isn’t high, to say the least). But it was really an excuse to spend time together. The highlight of the afternoon was a visit to Al Fishaway café, lots of tea with mint, and apple sheesha for me. The boys had a chance to yak and yuk, I got pleasantly stoned on nicotine (a vice I will not bring back to the States), and between fending off vendors of everything from tissue packs to scarabs to scarves and sunglasses, we had a great time together. The Khan is one of Cairo’s oldest Islamic sections, and architectural gems like this beautiful entryway are tucked throughout its alleys.

Interior of Al Fishaway cafe with Harris

Emad's doggie pal is also Harris's

The Boyz at Al Fishaway

Working on my sheesha with Harris

Gorgeous medieval entryway, Khan al Khalili

So things are okay so far, in a state of flux but we are safe. Don’t look for us on CNN. I’ll write more after the general strike.

Some cars in Ma'adi have reserved parking....

Back to school, and more violence

January 29^th marked the start of the new term at AUC. I’m teaching two courses, one a history of American advertising called “Advertising the American Dream” and the other a course on postwar American culture and its echoes in contemporary culture called “Postwar/Postmodern.” Its topics include the creation of suburbia, Tupperware and fast food, Tiki bars and shopping malls. It’s one of my favorite courses to teach since the material is so much fun. The first week of classes never counts at AUC since students are still shopping for courses, so I’ve kept the lectures light. I get to sleep in this term to 7AM since I take an 8:10 bus to campus, a nice change from the 7:15 bus last term. My buddies Sarah and Mark Mineart are often on my bus one way or the other, which makes the commute pass with pleasure.

The first anniversary of the revolution passed without incident on the 25^th, and Friday’s demonstrations also seemed to go peacefully. There is a lot of debate in the papers about Egypt’s future, and with reason: financially, the country is really hurting, with tourism down, unemployment high, and hard currency reserves dwindling. Harris and I read the Guardian and Al-Masry Al-Youm online to keep up, and it’s hard to reconcile the hopes of the revolution with the facts of life.

We went to an Embassy reception in honor of ­­­­­­­­­Meghann Curtis, the new deputy assistant secretary of educational affairs for the State Department on Sunday night at a villa in Zamalek owned by the Embassy, and home to one of its senior officers. Ms. Curtis oversees a number of programs, including Fulbright, and this was her first visit to Cairo. We did our best to reflect well on the program and toned down our usual table-dancing and beer-chugging. Alas, I could not photograph the beautiful villa owned by the Embassy, nor the groaning boards of the buffet, which I did my best to lighten up, but I did bring this small souvenir.

We went to a swank Embassy event and all we got was this napkin

On most days, as I pass through the gates to get my bus home, there is a farm stand set up there showcasing produce from AUC’s Desert Development Program. This ecologically sensitive program helps farmers in the desert, and their produce sells at the bus gate for wonderfully low prices. Yesterday, I bought a half dozen seedless oranges, half a kilo of broccoli, and a kilo of courgettes (little zucchini) for around 18LE. Mama would have been amazed to see me, generally one who won’t eat fruit,  devour the oranges. They were so juicy and so good that I’m hoping I can score another bag full on Wednesday. The good produce has inspired us to cook more, order out less, and to her sorrow, have Kiki cook less often (she loves to cook, probably because she loves to eat while she cooks). We have found a great greengrocer down the street, and sources for Australian lamb and beef, and pork, and salmon. I think there’s also part of us that misses the way we eat at home, so rosemary potatoes, Brussels sprouts, and rack of lamb is a connection to home.

Some produce from the Desert Development

That might also explain my sense of dread about leaving Egypt. The start of the term signals the end of our time here, months away though it is. Not only do I get anxious about the logistics of clearing out our flat, but neither of us really want to leave. We are starting to think about how to come back, perhaps if Harris wins a Fulbright. We heard that you cry when you arrive and you cry when you leave Egypt, and I believe it. The place really gets under your skin and makes you love it. Harris says that he feels like Mr. Outside, not a shy guy, for some reason in Egypt—maybe the openness of the people?—but watching him work the Embassy crowd as well as the guys at the grocery store makes me happy. Plus he’s productive, working on poetics, thinking Deep Thoughts, and delivering the goods. I’m less productive in the Deep Thoughts department, but of course, I have a fulltime job, so that’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it!

Today, February 2^nd, we awoke to the news of a riot amongst football fans in Port Said, with over 70 killed. We all thought that if there were a bad day, it would be the 25^th. Theories and conspiracy theories abound, the most common I’ve read suggesting that the lack of security at the match was planned; criminals were released into the stadium to instigate violence; football fans were targeted by the SCAF (Supreme Council of Armed Forces) because of their support of the revolution; and the riot was incited to reinforce SCAF’s seeming right to rule since only they can keep order. There will be three days of national mourning, and the fragility of the country only increases. It hasn’t affected our lives directly but everyone is very upset. There are demonstrations planned throughout the next few days. AUC has extended its add/drop period (during which we essentially can’t teach since students are shopping for courses) to acknowledge the unrest. Banks have been robbed, and many have either closed their ATMs and reduced the amount one can withdraw.

News photo from Port Said

News photo of football "ultra" fans, Port Said

The night of February 2^nd, we went to the Four Seasons Nile Plaza for a reception for Fulbrighters, present and former, in Egypt. Most of those there were Egyptians who had studied or taught in the U.S., and remained active in cross-cultural exchange in Egypt. There were speeches, appreciations, and gifts, a dinner buffet, but what began the event was a moment of silence for the victims of the football massacre in Port Said. Our drive downtown was the fastest ever, not just owing to Emad’s speedy driving, but because so many people who would normally be out and about on a Thursday night were either marching on a government building or staying home. Emad summed it up best as he dropped us back home after a somber evening: “pray for our country.”

Fulbright reception, Bruce Lohof speaking

On to the trivial: car culture in Egypt. As I contemplate returning to the U.S., which despite horrible accidents on Florida highways, is largely a law-abiding and safe place to drive, the contrasts with Egypt leap out. You can drive the wrong way on a one-way street if you need to. Lines painted for lanes on roads are mere suggestions at best. And then there’s the small stuff. You can park pretty much anywhere; in Ma’adi, double-parking is common, and at busy times, triple-parking occurs. There are men (and some women) who work every morning washing cars, causing the dirt in the streets to turn to mud (another reason your shoes wear out fast here), and their universal signal that a car has been washed are windshield wipers left raised. Harris has remarked that though much has been written about the Arab Street, nothing about the Arab Sidewalk, since it doesn’t really exist. Hence, one walks in the Arab Street. Finally, in addition to cars, trucks, buses, motorcycles, pedestrians, and bicycles, streets here include donkey-and-horse-drawn vendors, like this fellow who kindly allowed me to photograph him a block from our flat.

Wipers up means it's clean

Street vendor in Ma'adi

Our buddies, Sarah and Mark, have adopted a kitten, a former street cat now living in luxury. They’ve named her Eliza, as in Doolittle, partly as an homage to her humble origins and their lives in the theater, but also for her behavior. As in, she does little. On the bus to work the other day, Mark showed me photos from their January trip to Kenya. I was struck by photos of a cheetah up close and personal, acting just like a cat until it caught the scent of possible prey and went from large kitty cat to predator. I also loved pictures of zebra mothers with their offspring, wrapped in the zebra version of a hug.

Just a big kitty!

Or just a big predator?

Sarah and Mark on the Tanzania-Kenya border

Nuzzling zebras

Finally, I have complained before in this blog about how dirty Cairo is, both the pollution and the streets. After noticing funny marks on my clothing, I realized they came from the clothespins, which pick up dirt in the air. So in addition to washing clothing every time it’s worn, washing the clothes lines, the balcony from which they hang, and the hardware, we now wash the clothespins. Adding to our Sisyphean efforts to keep things clean is a special wind that kicks up in February, called the khamsin. We have already had a small dust storm that darkened one afternoon, and locals tell me to expect more. Contact lens wearers, they say, revert to glasses, dust pours through the cracks in doors and windows, and four broom-wielding housekeepers a day can’t keep it out. Ah, well.

The seemingly trite sign-off, "Peace" seems particularly appropriate today.