being part of the fam

Last Sunday night I met the amazing family that I have been staying with all week. It is our week of home-stays and we were each put with an Egyptian family so that we could learn what life is really like…outside of our nice, comfortable apartments—and it definitely is different. I have new best friends. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to mention their names on here. I’m not sure why it would matter, really, but just to keep things less complicated for them I wont be using their real names… plus its just cooler to talk in code.

I’ll start with renaming my new friend Kimo (because he didn’t like the name Ahmed that I picked). He’s a son of this family, about 25 or so, and he came to pick me up with his little brother and sister. He speaks English very well…but I keep telling him that I just don’t understand English, only Arabic. It has been a frequent lifeline though, and has also allowed some deeper conversation than saying that I’m hungry or have to use the bathroom. But a big goal for this week is to use and improve my Arabic as much as possible. And I think its working… the 18 year old daughter (who asked me to call her Shakira) has been helping me with all my Arabic homework and explaining the lessons better than the book does, even with her very limited English. Also in the house are Mama—who doesn’t know any English and we communicate primarily though hugs and smiles, a younger brother Saami—who yells “Welcome to Egypt!!” everytime he sees me, and two older siblings who are mostly at work. We are all very comfortable in about a four and a half room apartment with three beds. I have one of beds and a whole room to myself, of course. They wont have it any other way. Believe me, I’m still trying…

The bathroom has a sink and a hole and hose. The kitchen is a sink and a stove… and is well used. I’m filled up with pretty amazing food just about every hour.

Generosity is overwhelming here, literally. It’s…compelling.

Did I mention that we live right in the middle of Garbage City? The other night I took some homework out to the roof of their building around sunset and picked a seat in the opposite corner from the ducks and geese that lived up there. I found myself just kind of staring over the whole neighborhood, and the fading sun, fuzzy through the smog, made this orange glow around the whole city and mountains in the background. Those moments remind me that I’m really here and how much I love it.

I tried to go to bed last night around midnight, after Kimo had noticed me fading in and out of our late-night conversation. He told me to just go to bed… for an hour anyways, and afterwards, we would go shopping. I was a little confused, but put shorts on and climbed into bed anyways. About an hour later, he was shaking me saying, “Put your pants on. Get up! We need to buy many things.” So I went market shopping at 1 am last night and bought grapes, dates, and cake. Everyone was out. Nothing was closed. Cairo doesn’t sleep. Actually, that’s not true… they just all sleep in.

Kimo also couldn’t believe that I had paid 13 pounds in a taxi to get over here on the first day. Taxi drivers here put an automatic tourist tax on your fare if you’re white…so it’s continually a challenge to get a... well, a fair fare. And there’s an additional stupidity tax if you can’t bargain with them in Arabic. I asked Kimo what I should be paying and he said 10… gosh, I wasn’t that far off (not like one of my friends that paid 40 instead of 4). But he taught me how to really be tough with the taxis. Since then, I think the taxi drivers pretty much guess that I must have grown up here. I haven’t paid more than 10…which even impressed the interns. He’s a good teacher.

I miss my real family. I miss them a lot. This one has taken me in and made me feel like a real part of it. I really do feel loved here. Family is something you need wherever you are, and I’m so thankful that God provided me one in Egypt.

(but, Mom, I promise I’ll come home too).

anyone like to join me for an afternoon ride?

I have a new favorite thing…


…taking horses out into the open desert behind the pyramids and just letting them go for it, up and over sand dunes, kicking up clouds of dust at full gallop like I was Lawrence of Arabia.

wow.

being angry

Have you ever talked to a person that was glad about what happened five years ago? I just did. And it wasn’t like in the news where extremists are burning American flags in a rally in some far off place. I sat in a living room tonight and talked with him about it. He was happy that planes flew into buildings in my country and killed 3,000 people… and he really pissed me off.

In his opinion, we had it coming. It gave us a taste of what he sees his people go through everyday. A couple of buildings were hit and some people were killed so we cry? Look at the landscape of Lebanon right now, he said. Look at the way our unbridled support for Israel creates an image of the evil Palestinian and their illegitimate, savage lust for land. And how we’re prancing around singing about democracy… as long as people elect who we want them to. Look at how we’re ready to open the back door and sweep away any muddy footprints if you’ve got some oil for us. Somehow, we’re allowed to dictate those allowed to research and produce nuclear warheads—regardless of their prior record of war—and those who would violate clear international bounds by developing any sort of nuclear program. Not to mention, we just invaded and toppled a government for reasons still unclear, but all we’ve done is make a bloody mess of it, and we won’t stop. America is a bully and the Middle East is our playground. Why wouldn’t he hate us?

And while everyone else was sitting on their butts cursing America, Osama bin Ladin did something to send a message.

At first I was confused, because he kept referring to the “war” with America. I’m assuming that he meant all Arab people, because I pretty sure that we’re not at war with Egypt. Additionally, Arabs quite often view Israel and America as the same, so whatever grief has been caused by Israel is automatically pinned on us. Unfair? Maybe. Its another issue.

My response to this entire thing wraps up a lot of opinions and views that I’m still trying to work through…perspectives that are definitely challenging and at times, painful, and that are only just beginning to take shape. I could talk on and on about this and probably end up making little sense or settling in any conclusion, so allow me to vent shortly about why I’m proud to get mad for September 11th.

There are many theories to the causes, results, lessons learned and still left unlearned of that day. But stand back, especially on its anniversary, and look at what happened…remember it. I was lifeguarding that morning and heard it on the radio shortly after the first tower of the WTC was hit. I called my mom and told her to turn on the TV and find out what was really going on. For the rest of the day and most of that week, I watched the clips of enormous buildings crumbling to the ground, smoke and dust enveloping New York. I saw people jumping out of buildings and firemen do their duty in the reality of ultimate sacrifice. It was pretty horrifying. I saw Ground Zero just a few weeks ago and it’s a hole in the ground. This is my country, my home, and that security was violated.

All I see in the whole thing is hate and it does nothing but destroy. Its true that many places in the world it is a daily reality and I’m not about to pretend that I know the kind of suffering some people endure because of it. But one tragedy does not permit another. What kind of world is this that we would sit around and tally up our losses so to brush aside the suffering of anyone that might not even out to our own? Destruction fueled by hate leaves behind a wake so painful that it should anger me, whether it be a raped family in Darfur, a cleaned out Palestinian settlement, or a now fatherless family in New York City. Quite often I don’t realize this, or at least view it as such, because of the buffer of politics. Fighting and war are seen as passing headlines, while the value of people is being trampled to hell by comfort of ignorance or the stench of apathy. The difference for me is that the distance disappeared on September 11th and I felt it. I don’t have to apologize for feeling it more, but instead of responding with my own hate, I want to it open my eyes to the other destruction all around me…show me what in the world is happening and make me determined that it not continue.

Listen to me…I’m young and idealistic, huh?

So what? I hope I never change. I know that wars will continue and people will continue to die and suffering will not fade into world peace. Sin and hate will live on until God rescues us from it. But I am learning to live so I fight it…and I think the first step is making sure I can feel it. Hearing those words from my Arab friend give rise to something real inside me. May I direct this passion as a slap in the face, an eye opener, an inspiration to overcome evil with good. May the memory September 11th anger me to action.

my trip

I spent the last two days in Alexandria, right on the Mediterranean Sea… which I’ll admit, was pretty amazing to see. But the cool part is looking way out into the distance, realizing that Turkey is way out there somewhere, and definitely not so much floating amongst the slime and litter in the cloudy water right along the beach. Plus, soon after I got in and tried making friends with some Egyptian boys, I found myself outnumbered, surrounded, and apparently in the midst of a very funny joke, which may have gone slightly over my head. They may or may not have said something that sounded like the Arabic word for “white” accompanied by several motions towards my shirtless body… hmm, I just pointed back and laughed with them.

The experience of staying in a cheap hotel here was much different than a Motel6. I loved the elevator, because you never knew if the doors would open actually on the floor or really anywhere in between, leaving you with the options of jumping the remaining 5 feet to the floor or going back to the top and trying again.

Alexandria made me want to live during the time of Alexander the Great. It made me want to know more about it. I think I learned a lot about it during a world history in high school but I wish I knew more. I didn’t necessarily learn tons more while I was there, because I didn’t want it to be just a museum tour. So a group of us just hopped on the trolley to see where it would take us. We ended up seeing Pompey’s Pillar, an really old fort, and then… Egyptian catacombs. They went so deep, and were damp and cold. Is it weird to think it would be cool to be buried there? It would feel very historical.

Classes have started now and things are getting very busy. Right now I’m taking Arabic, People and Cultures of the Middle East, and Islamic Thought and Practice. And I do miss Cedarville and all of you great people there, but I have to say, class is a lot cooler here. For example, while I used to have to pick between Milner 114 and Tyler 201 or wish I could somehow get access to that amazing scrolling stock quotes room, I now get a guided tour of some of the largest, most ornate mosques in the Middle East during my class period. Or I sit and listen to my native Egyptian Arabic teacher (who is a Muslim and always wears a turban) speak beautifully and help me work through some simple vocab. Today, we had a classroom discussion and summary of different regional issues, covering everything from devastation in Lebanon to the discord in Iraq…over popcorn and Egyptian soda and the Garden State soundtrack in the background.

Shoot. I just found out that my game of football (or soccer) this evening with Mahmoud, Ahmed, and Ahmed was cancelled. They said that we’ll move it to Thursday.

I won’t tack anymore onto this entry, but I have been thinking. This place makes me think. Spiritually, politically, ethically/morally… really everything. It challenges me. I don’t quite know what I’ll write about it later, but that’s kind of what I like about it… that is, it’s hard to attach words to my thoughts, and definitely hard to list it out for a journal entry. I don’t know if I’ve figured out what’s happening that well yet. But I feel it stretching. Pray for me.

living with garbage

I had seen pictures of Garbage City. I had heard other people talk about what they had seen. I thought that I had talked myself through what I was going to see today, like I could somehow mentally prep for the visit.

Every city just has its bad parts. Maybe we can do something. help them somehow…or at least make their day by coming. I still remember coaching myself, in all my wisdom, during the bus ride over.

Nothing could have prepared me for what was there when I stepped out of the bus. I hopped out with my sunglasses, digital camera, and bottled spring water into a neighborhood that was sitting in scrap piles of garbage, food rotting in the afternoon sun, broken glass, mountains of old newspaper, and discarded junk. The narrow alleyways were lined with shops smaller than any of my bathrooms at home, most of them filled and overflowing into the streets with more garbage than I have ever seen. Stray cats and dogs dug into the filth and laid around on top of the piles.
And here’s the thing I really wasn’t ready for… human beings were packed into this place tighter than the garbage they lived in. I was shocked. I was repulsed. I was embarrassed. I was angry. I was overwhelmed, and I was very confused.

Ok, so here’s the deal with Garbage City. Its not that these people just don’t know how to dispose of their waste and it piles up. They collect it and stockpile it and recycle it for a living. The city government of Cairo both lacks any kind of organized refuse cleanup and faces a massive unemployment problem. The two come together in the creativity and desperation of the poor, uneducated population. These people feed their families by picking up, recycling, and reselling anything they can get their hands on. In addition to the strays I mentioned, pigs roam the streets eating the garbage, until fat enough to be sold as ham sandwiches and pork loins. To these people, the piles that they were sitting on and living in between was not junk… it was their way of surviving, their livelihood… and in that way, perhaps even a blessing. Come to think of it, they smiled a lot.

…almost too much. Something in me hated it. I wanted to ask the men working together standing on their own heap why they continued to pile bag after bag after bag. I wanted to tell the kids not to stomp through or kick around random wrappers, until I remembered that it was the floor to their house. I wanted to ask the old woman how long it had been since she had a breath of fresh air away from the stench that my pampered nose couldn’t stand and can’t forget. I began to get overwhelmed with the impossibility of freeing these people from this lifestyle. Then it hit me, what did I want to free them from? What did I want to free them to? Am I so engrained in my Western mindset that I just wanted steal those kids away to America so I could see them in new clothes, playing xbox, and having an “indoor” cat? Comfort equals happiness, right? Oh… well, what about cleanliness?

Not only does my americanized mind perhaps misidentify their true needs, but maybe even more so, the true solution (if there is one). In other words, I’m prone to see my efforts as being their rescue. I was rocked by their world today, and all of a sudden, I’m trying to think of how I could fix all their problems. I can’t think of anything more foolish, proud, or condescending. When will I start seeing such perspectives as some of the garbage I’m living in?
I wrestle through this still as I write it. Feeling compassion and wanting to do something about it are both good things. Wanting enough justice that people have their basic needs met is natural. And obviously, extreme poverty is a global problem keeping millions from reaching that minimum point. But today I was placed into a context that made me reevaluate just what it is that I want in regards to some of this.

What is it that they need? What the heck can I possibly give them? What have they given me through this?

I think I’ll go back and visit sometime soon.

who knew being oriented could be this fun?

Orientation week:

Unbelievable. I’m in Cairo.

It is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Well, obviously…but really, I live in this neighborhood called L’Agouza, and when I step out on to the street, I’m greeted by my neighbors in Arabic…and that’s about as far as I understand so far. Beyond my name, I can pretty much tell people that I’m either “good” or “very good.” My Arabic is getting better though even in this short time—and I must say that it helps that I took the beginning class last semester. Not everything transfers over because most of the language that I learned in the class is very formal. I tried to string a sentence together with those words and said something like, “Certainly, my dear elderly gentleman, alas, I shall now retire to the powder room.” I’ve since picked up an Egyptian common phrase book.

I couldn’t even begin to write about everything that we’ve been…well, oriented to this week. I’ll go over some of the basics. There are 25 of us in the study program hailing from all over the country, but all excited to leave it for the Middle East. I’m living in a 3-bedroom apartment with the 7 other guys for the semester. Its very Egyptian looking… I think. And its got an amazing 4th floor view of the street from our outside porch.

Aside from many meetings discussing the cultural things that I will have to quickly learn and adapt to, I’ve been able to actually get around the city pretty well. I’ve woven my way through crowded markets, taken many taxi rides, boated down the Nile, rode the metro, sat in on prayer in a mosque, explored both rich and poor areas, drove by the pyramids, accepted an invitation for tea and sandwiches in a Muslim home, stopped by local fruit stands, walked in on a Coptic Church wedding, and stumbled through conversations with locals. And I love it. Every single minute of it.

I wish I could write about everything separately… maybe more later, especially since I finally had time to get this started.

Classes start soon. Right now I’m taking Arabic and Islamic Thought and Practice… and with those classes comes a lot more personal free time… intended for us to study I’m sure. But I’ll also definitely step up some of my exploring and maybe just bring my books on my adventures.

I have fairly good internet access here. So post on here, IM me or Skype me… both at vikes829. My email is the same. And lastly, for you truly dedicated and dear friends, I’ll post my address…

hmm, later…when I find it.

Oh, and Daaftari Massr means “my Egyptian notebook.”

coming soon...