Have you ever sat on a subway platform with your significant other, making small talk and whispering sweet nothings to each other as train after train passes by? Or found a cozy spot for cuddling under an overpass that cuts through the middle of the city? Probably not - unless, that is, you see an element of romance in urban transport infrastructure.
In Egypt, however, such public places are considered prime spots for young lovers to meet and spend time with each other. It is common to see couples huddling close together in adjoining seats in subway stations, busy sidewalks, and even grassy medians in the center of large streets.
At first glance, this phenomenon runs counter to the conventional wisdom that Egypt is a conservative society where the two sexes remain largely separate until marriage. Dating, at least in the American sense, is much less widespread here, and premarital sex is taboo. If a man and woman are interested in each other, they are generally unable to visit each other at either of their houses. Even after graduating college, most unmarried women live with their families. Every man knows that if he were to call on her at her family’s house he would either be turned away or, if he were allowed in, would not be able to spend any time alone with the object of his desire.
In response to these social constraints, the younger generations have realized that the best way to keep love hidden is to bring it into the public view! The subway stations, parks, and streets that lovers populate at all hours of the day are open to people from all walks of life. At the same time, however, there is a level of anonymity in these spaces that does not exist at home. While it is rare to see people kissing in public, there is plenty of PDA. Hand-holding, cheek-to-cheek contact, and pecks on the cheek that could almost be considered kisses are commonplace, even in the midst of a cacophony of horns or the crush of riders entering and exiting the subway.
Taking a page out of Romeo and Juliet (minus the bloody ending, of course), young Egyptians have proved once again that true love is always able to overcome any obstacle in its path.
Showing posts with label youth in egypt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label youth in egypt. Show all posts
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Jon Stewart Comes to Egypt
For nearly 60 years, Egypt’s ruling class used rumors of foreign conspiracies to divert attention from the country’s internal problems. Sticking to the script, the Mubarak regime did its best to convince the Egyptian people that agents from Israel, the U.S., and Europe were driving the January 25 uprising. It failed. Unfortunately, though, loose talk about foreign agents, hostile elements, and, of course, Israeli spies seeking to undermine Egyptian interests continues to play an unsettlingly prominent role in the media in post-Mubarak Egypt.
Thankfully, the counter-conspiracy campaign has begun, and its leader is a man named Bassem Yousuf (pictured here doing his best Mubarak impression).
Yousuf, who models himself after Jon Stewart (and looks a bit like him, too), began to broadcast satirical news segments soon after the fall of Mubarak in which he focused on exposing the many audacious claims about foreign conspiracies that fearmongerers had been making during the 18-day uprising. Using tried and true Stewartian tactics, Yousuf interspersed clips from Egyptian news and talk shows with his own sarcastic commentary. In some cases, such as the aftermath of the divisive constitutional referendum in March, he would also use his bully pulpit to speak out against polarization or sensationalism and appeal for tolerance and calm. Just as Stewart often appears to be the voice of reason above the fray, Yousuf has carefully avoided associating himself with any specific political party or ideology.
Yousuf has found an audience in Egypt, especially among the youth. Several friends and I had the pleasure of listening to him speak at a local cultural center last weekend, and when we arrived we found that the lecture hall, which seats at least several hundred people, was filled to the brim. Nearly all of the attendees were under the age of 30, and they listened with rapt attention as Yousuf stressed the importance of critically analyzing every news item or opinion that they see on television or read in the paper. I was also particularly heartened to hear his comments on the need for civil discourse about key social issues: “We Egyptians are not used to serious conversations about important issues like sex, religion, and gender,” he said, “but we need to have these conversations, and the only way that they will be constructive is if we debate ideas instead of attacking the personality or allegiance of someone who does not share our viewpoint. We can disagree, but we must remember that at the end of the day we are all Egyptians and we all want to make our country better.”
Amen.
PS: After a several month hiatus, Yousuf’s program was picked up by an Egyptian television station for the month of Ramadan, and rumor has it that he now has a contract that runs for the rest of the year. For any Arabic speakers reading this blog, you can find the Ramadan episodes here and the earlier episodes here.
Thankfully, the counter-conspiracy campaign has begun, and its leader is a man named Bassem Yousuf (pictured here doing his best Mubarak impression).
Yousuf, who models himself after Jon Stewart (and looks a bit like him, too), began to broadcast satirical news segments soon after the fall of Mubarak in which he focused on exposing the many audacious claims about foreign conspiracies that fearmongerers had been making during the 18-day uprising. Using tried and true Stewartian tactics, Yousuf interspersed clips from Egyptian news and talk shows with his own sarcastic commentary. In some cases, such as the aftermath of the divisive constitutional referendum in March, he would also use his bully pulpit to speak out against polarization or sensationalism and appeal for tolerance and calm. Just as Stewart often appears to be the voice of reason above the fray, Yousuf has carefully avoided associating himself with any specific political party or ideology.
Yousuf has found an audience in Egypt, especially among the youth. Several friends and I had the pleasure of listening to him speak at a local cultural center last weekend, and when we arrived we found that the lecture hall, which seats at least several hundred people, was filled to the brim. Nearly all of the attendees were under the age of 30, and they listened with rapt attention as Yousuf stressed the importance of critically analyzing every news item or opinion that they see on television or read in the paper. I was also particularly heartened to hear his comments on the need for civil discourse about key social issues: “We Egyptians are not used to serious conversations about important issues like sex, religion, and gender,” he said, “but we need to have these conversations, and the only way that they will be constructive is if we debate ideas instead of attacking the personality or allegiance of someone who does not share our viewpoint. We can disagree, but we must remember that at the end of the day we are all Egyptians and we all want to make our country better.”
Amen.
PS: After a several month hiatus, Yousuf’s program was picked up by an Egyptian television station for the month of Ramadan, and rumor has it that he now has a contract that runs for the rest of the year. For any Arabic speakers reading this blog, you can find the Ramadan episodes here and the earlier episodes here.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Across the Egyptian Twitterverse
Tonight I attended a “Tweet Nadwa” in Cairo. This nadwa (which translates into English as “seminar” or “conference”), as its name suggests, was organized via twitter and facebook and brought together Egyptians for a discussion about social justice and the future of Egypt. Try as I might to summarize the meeting in 140 characters or less on twitter, I simply cannot do it. Instead, I’ve turned to the blog, which gives me much more space to discuss and analyze tonight’s nadwa in detail.
The event was held in a theater nestled in the alleyways of downtown Cairo, and the room was already packed when I arrived a few minutes before 6:30. I was one of the lucky ones who was able to find a spot on the floor – a few minutes after I sat down, the theater was filled entirely to capacity with people in seats, on the floor, and in the aisles. This being my first twitter-organized event I didn’t quite know what to expect…I assumed that everyone might be spending the entire time with their noses buried in their blackberries, focusing more on their tweets than on the actual content of the discussion. As the moderator explained, however, the event was meant to be much more of a town-hall style meeting and, while a projector screen displayed a live feed of tweets from the audience members, audience members who wanted to contribute would be given a microphone instead of a smartphone. The moderator posed a topic for discussion, and then passed the microphone around to audience members and five prominent tweeters who were sitting on chairs in the front of the theater. Each person could speak for no more than 140 seconds (a nod to Twitter’s 140 character limit). Knowing what sort of rhetorical gems town hall meetings in the U.S. have yielded (e.g. “Keep your government hands off my Medicare”), I was quite excited to see how this concept would play out in an Egyptian context.
Before getting into the actual content of the discussion, a few observations about the overall feel in the room. The audience was generally young, quite politically and socially liberal (both from the nature of the discussion and their preferred styles of clothing), and clearly very tech-savvy. As far as I could tell, there were no Salafis (who often sport long beards and traditional robes called galabiyyas) and no one who publicly identified with the Muslim Brotherhood. A sense of excitement pervaded the room as the discussion began, and as an outside observer it was hard not to get swept up in the moment. I never imagined last year when I was in Alexandria that this sort of discussion would be taking place just one year later in a post-Mubarak Egypt. It was impossible not to be inspired by several hundred people voluntarily coming together to talk about the future of their country. The level of energy and passion in the room – fed by the feeling that there is a real window of opportunity right now to shape Egypt’s political and economic future – was infectious.
Tonight’s topic was social justice, and the conversation mainly focused on economics. The microphone swiftly changed hands in the beginning of the meeting, with most of the attendees striking idealistic notes about the necessity of improving healthcare and education, raising the minimum wage, etc. Nothing revolutionary, but nevertheless a good way to start the program. After a brief digression in which the attendees argued amongst themselves about how the stock market functioned and whether it was or wasn’t necessary for the country’s future, the discussion heated up when a proud Communist stood up and admonished the crowd for not focusing on the real issues. “You all are forgetting the critical problem here,” he declared, “we need to stop talking about the minimum wage and the stock market and start talking about how to end the capitalist plague that is destroying our country! We must return to the basics and realize that capitalism is inherently unfair!”
The crowd’s attention instantly turned to broad, ideological issues. Instead of clapping, the moderator told the audience members to raise their arms and wave their hands when they agreed with a certain point, and judging by the amount of raised hands and smiles after that mini-Communist manifesto, the man had many allies in the room. Several like-minded thinkers expressed their support for the idea of completely overhauling Egypt’s system, inveighing against the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (among other foreign countries and institutions) for making the rich richer and the poor poorer while tacitly approving the pervasive corruption in the Mubarak regime.
The capitalists in the room were not as vocal, but a few brave souls did stand up to defend their position. “What we had in Egypt for the past 30 years,” one said, “was not capitalism. It was simply despotism.” Another chimed in: “we’ve tried socialism and it didn’t work!” While nobody endorsed the Mubarak regime’s version of capitalism, the capitalists did win a fair amount of head nods and raised hands during their responses to the communist and socialist salvos.
The back-and-forth debate between the capitalists and the communists/socialists continued for some time, but there were two speakers who I found particularly engaging. One man stood up in the middle of the debate and, quite calmly and skillfully, attacked both the capitalists and the communists at the same time: “This question of whether we should have a capitalist or a communist system here in Egypt is not as important,” he declared, “as this question: who will administer the system? If there is anything we have learned in the past 60 years, it is that no matter what ideology we follow, we are ultimately doomed to fail if we have bad leaders. Pick either one of these ideologies, but remember that our success or failure will ultimately be determined by who is making the decisions and not some theoretical framework for how things should work.” While I didn’t speak at the meeting and generally refrained from reacting to any of the statements from one side or the other, I couldn’t help but raise my hand in support of that statement. Soon afterwards, another man stood up and brought up an equally important point: “While it is important to talk about macroeconomics and large companies,” he said, “we also have to focus on small-scale issues. So many young people have business plans or inventions that they want to capitalize on, but our system makes it unbelievably hard for anyone to open their own business. Why should we have to get 15 permits from the government to open a small shop, and why is it so hard for us to get any start-up capital? Change has to come from the bottom, too, and we need to start by completely overhauling the system to make it easier for us young people to go into business for ourselves.” I, and many of the other people in the room, raised our hands in support of this point, too.
Finally, I was very interested by the constant comparisons of Egypt to other countries. Many people backed up their statements by saying “in America they do this” or “in Scandinavia they do that,” and there were several points in the discussion when people used specific examples from American political or economic history. Many of the moderates in the room advocated that Egypt look to northern European countries as models for how to balance capitalism and social justice, but just as many people shook their heads emphatically whenever someone said that Egyptians should look to foreign countries as they design their own system. One speaker garnered a sea of raised hands when he declared simply: “screw capitalism and communism, let’s invent a new and better system here in Egypt!” Nevertheless, America was certainly the most commonly referenced foreign country throughout the discussion. Interestingly, while there were occasional mentions of developing countries such as Brazil and Korea, no one said anything about the Chinese model.
As a whole, I would characterize the discussion as decidedly more focused on social justice and closing the gap between the rich and the poor than most discussions about economic issues in the U.S. Despite a rising culture of consumption here in Egypt and a tendency for the rich to flaunt their wealth, I think people are very conscious of the huge class divide that emerged during the Mubarak regime, and they want to take definite actions to solve the problem. “We must judge our government,” one woman declared, “on the basis of how it treats the weakest people in our society.” If this twitter nadwa is actually representative of the Egyptian liberal movement as a whole, I would expect to see a definite shift to more populist policies if they liberals gain a significant amount of seats in the parliamentary elections.
As I have written before, someone walking the streets of Egypt these days who didn’t know about what happened in January and February would probably not think that this country is undergoing dramatic changes. There are specific times, however, when the gravity of what is happening in Egypt hits you like a tsunami. Tonight was certainly one of those times, and I will certainly be returning to the next twitter nadwa. The attendees’ enthusiasm, optimism, and genuine desire to change their country for the better was truly inspiring.
The event was held in a theater nestled in the alleyways of downtown Cairo, and the room was already packed when I arrived a few minutes before 6:30. I was one of the lucky ones who was able to find a spot on the floor – a few minutes after I sat down, the theater was filled entirely to capacity with people in seats, on the floor, and in the aisles. This being my first twitter-organized event I didn’t quite know what to expect…I assumed that everyone might be spending the entire time with their noses buried in their blackberries, focusing more on their tweets than on the actual content of the discussion. As the moderator explained, however, the event was meant to be much more of a town-hall style meeting and, while a projector screen displayed a live feed of tweets from the audience members, audience members who wanted to contribute would be given a microphone instead of a smartphone. The moderator posed a topic for discussion, and then passed the microphone around to audience members and five prominent tweeters who were sitting on chairs in the front of the theater. Each person could speak for no more than 140 seconds (a nod to Twitter’s 140 character limit). Knowing what sort of rhetorical gems town hall meetings in the U.S. have yielded (e.g. “Keep your government hands off my Medicare”), I was quite excited to see how this concept would play out in an Egyptian context.
Before getting into the actual content of the discussion, a few observations about the overall feel in the room. The audience was generally young, quite politically and socially liberal (both from the nature of the discussion and their preferred styles of clothing), and clearly very tech-savvy. As far as I could tell, there were no Salafis (who often sport long beards and traditional robes called galabiyyas) and no one who publicly identified with the Muslim Brotherhood. A sense of excitement pervaded the room as the discussion began, and as an outside observer it was hard not to get swept up in the moment. I never imagined last year when I was in Alexandria that this sort of discussion would be taking place just one year later in a post-Mubarak Egypt. It was impossible not to be inspired by several hundred people voluntarily coming together to talk about the future of their country. The level of energy and passion in the room – fed by the feeling that there is a real window of opportunity right now to shape Egypt’s political and economic future – was infectious.
Tonight’s topic was social justice, and the conversation mainly focused on economics. The microphone swiftly changed hands in the beginning of the meeting, with most of the attendees striking idealistic notes about the necessity of improving healthcare and education, raising the minimum wage, etc. Nothing revolutionary, but nevertheless a good way to start the program. After a brief digression in which the attendees argued amongst themselves about how the stock market functioned and whether it was or wasn’t necessary for the country’s future, the discussion heated up when a proud Communist stood up and admonished the crowd for not focusing on the real issues. “You all are forgetting the critical problem here,” he declared, “we need to stop talking about the minimum wage and the stock market and start talking about how to end the capitalist plague that is destroying our country! We must return to the basics and realize that capitalism is inherently unfair!”
The crowd’s attention instantly turned to broad, ideological issues. Instead of clapping, the moderator told the audience members to raise their arms and wave their hands when they agreed with a certain point, and judging by the amount of raised hands and smiles after that mini-Communist manifesto, the man had many allies in the room. Several like-minded thinkers expressed their support for the idea of completely overhauling Egypt’s system, inveighing against the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (among other foreign countries and institutions) for making the rich richer and the poor poorer while tacitly approving the pervasive corruption in the Mubarak regime.
The capitalists in the room were not as vocal, but a few brave souls did stand up to defend their position. “What we had in Egypt for the past 30 years,” one said, “was not capitalism. It was simply despotism.” Another chimed in: “we’ve tried socialism and it didn’t work!” While nobody endorsed the Mubarak regime’s version of capitalism, the capitalists did win a fair amount of head nods and raised hands during their responses to the communist and socialist salvos.
The back-and-forth debate between the capitalists and the communists/socialists continued for some time, but there were two speakers who I found particularly engaging. One man stood up in the middle of the debate and, quite calmly and skillfully, attacked both the capitalists and the communists at the same time: “This question of whether we should have a capitalist or a communist system here in Egypt is not as important,” he declared, “as this question: who will administer the system? If there is anything we have learned in the past 60 years, it is that no matter what ideology we follow, we are ultimately doomed to fail if we have bad leaders. Pick either one of these ideologies, but remember that our success or failure will ultimately be determined by who is making the decisions and not some theoretical framework for how things should work.” While I didn’t speak at the meeting and generally refrained from reacting to any of the statements from one side or the other, I couldn’t help but raise my hand in support of that statement. Soon afterwards, another man stood up and brought up an equally important point: “While it is important to talk about macroeconomics and large companies,” he said, “we also have to focus on small-scale issues. So many young people have business plans or inventions that they want to capitalize on, but our system makes it unbelievably hard for anyone to open their own business. Why should we have to get 15 permits from the government to open a small shop, and why is it so hard for us to get any start-up capital? Change has to come from the bottom, too, and we need to start by completely overhauling the system to make it easier for us young people to go into business for ourselves.” I, and many of the other people in the room, raised our hands in support of this point, too.
Finally, I was very interested by the constant comparisons of Egypt to other countries. Many people backed up their statements by saying “in America they do this” or “in Scandinavia they do that,” and there were several points in the discussion when people used specific examples from American political or economic history. Many of the moderates in the room advocated that Egypt look to northern European countries as models for how to balance capitalism and social justice, but just as many people shook their heads emphatically whenever someone said that Egyptians should look to foreign countries as they design their own system. One speaker garnered a sea of raised hands when he declared simply: “screw capitalism and communism, let’s invent a new and better system here in Egypt!” Nevertheless, America was certainly the most commonly referenced foreign country throughout the discussion. Interestingly, while there were occasional mentions of developing countries such as Brazil and Korea, no one said anything about the Chinese model.
As a whole, I would characterize the discussion as decidedly more focused on social justice and closing the gap between the rich and the poor than most discussions about economic issues in the U.S. Despite a rising culture of consumption here in Egypt and a tendency for the rich to flaunt their wealth, I think people are very conscious of the huge class divide that emerged during the Mubarak regime, and they want to take definite actions to solve the problem. “We must judge our government,” one woman declared, “on the basis of how it treats the weakest people in our society.” If this twitter nadwa is actually representative of the Egyptian liberal movement as a whole, I would expect to see a definite shift to more populist policies if they liberals gain a significant amount of seats in the parliamentary elections.
As I have written before, someone walking the streets of Egypt these days who didn’t know about what happened in January and February would probably not think that this country is undergoing dramatic changes. There are specific times, however, when the gravity of what is happening in Egypt hits you like a tsunami. Tonight was certainly one of those times, and I will certainly be returning to the next twitter nadwa. The attendees’ enthusiasm, optimism, and genuine desire to change their country for the better was truly inspiring.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Arabeezy Phenomenon
The American University in Cairo is by far the most well-endowed university in Egypt. Its facilities resemble those at most universities in the United States, and its tuition is comparable to its counterparts in the U.S. as well. Because the cost of an AUC education is well beyond the means of an ordinary Egyptian family, the Egyptian students at AUC are primarily from the upper crust of society. As part of CASA’s “cultural exchange” program, we have had the opportunity to get to know a group of Egyptian AUC students. After several potlucks lunches, picnics, and other get-togethers, I have become particularly close with a few of the Egyptians. Like many of my friends in Alexandria, my AUC friends are smart, charismatic, and intellectually curious. They are just as interested in learning from us as we are in learning from them.
Most if not all of these AUC students speak English very well. Like other Egyptians who speak English with a high level of proficiency, however, they often speak a mixture of Arabic and English. This hybrid language is known in Egypt as "Arabeezy" (a mixture of "Arabic" and "Ingleezy," the Arabic word for English). Arabeezy speakers generally combine basic Arabic verbs, pronouns, and conjunctions with more complex English nouns and phrases. Sometimes an entire sentence will be in Arabic save for one key word (e.g. "I had a tough day at work today because there were so many customers" - every word would be Arabic except for "customers"), but I have also heard people intersperse Arabic and English words one after another throughout the sentence (e.g. "I'm studying economics because I want to work at a foreign company that has an office here in Cairo").
This code-switching seems to occur completely naturally. At the same time, I am highly skeptical that they are simply unable to distinguish between languages when they are speaking. Instead, I view Arabeezy as a status symbol related to class and education.* English is taught in every Egyptian school, but often not very well. When I taught English last year in Alexandria at a private learning center, for example, my college-aged students who had taken English throughout their primary and secondary education were still making entry-level mistakes. For them, Arabeezy consisted of trying to speak a few words in English followed by a lapse back into Arabic because they couldn't find the appropriate English word to finish their sentence. For these AUC students, however, their seemingly unconscious code-switching between English and Arabic clues anyone listening to them into their command of English -- a skill that is intimately tied to class and means. While I am not sure if they are purposefully trying to impress us Americans, there definitely seems to be an element of superiority compared to the average Egyptian who knows only the most basic English words and phrases.
There are two other factors that encourage the Arabeezy phenomenon as well. First is the tendency of many upper-class Egyptians to follow Western pop culture religiously. Many of the AUC students have seen more American movies than I have, and I was shocked by how many of them knew the lyrics to American songs that we sang together on our outing to a public park in Cairo last weekend. The desire to speak English instead of Arabic follows from this general interest in pop culture. Secondly, it is undeniable that English proficiency is a huge advantage in the Egyptian labor market. Many of the well-known companies in the Egyptian private sector conduct their business partially or sometimes fully in English, and English is also a basic requirement for anyone going into a tourism-related business. Thus, Egyptians may see Arabeezy as a way to practice their English - especially when they are speaking to native English speakers whom they know will understand the English words that they use.
As a student of Arabic, I find Arabeezy incredibly frustrating. While I understand the factors that drive Egyptians to want to speak English with me, I would much rather have them speak to me fully in English or fully in Arabic. Combining the two languages, however, prevents both of us from learning anything. One of the most important benefits of listening to native speakers speak is that you learn how to construct sentences and use vocabulary in the proper context. Code-switching in the middle of sentences distracts attention from sentence construction, and it also does not help the speaker learn how to use English phrases and words in the proper context. Having the ability to speak more than one language is truly a gift, but with great ability comes great responsibility. So, to all the Arabeezy speakers out there, I beg you: at the beginning of every conversation, just pick a language and stick with it!
* I am not this first to make this argument. For an excellent window into the political and social developments in Egypt over the past 60 years, see Galal Amin's book Whatever Happened to the Egyptians?.
Most if not all of these AUC students speak English very well. Like other Egyptians who speak English with a high level of proficiency, however, they often speak a mixture of Arabic and English. This hybrid language is known in Egypt as "Arabeezy" (a mixture of "Arabic" and "Ingleezy," the Arabic word for English). Arabeezy speakers generally combine basic Arabic verbs, pronouns, and conjunctions with more complex English nouns and phrases. Sometimes an entire sentence will be in Arabic save for one key word (e.g. "I had a tough day at work today because there were so many customers" - every word would be Arabic except for "customers"), but I have also heard people intersperse Arabic and English words one after another throughout the sentence (e.g. "I'm studying economics because I want to work at a foreign company that has an office here in Cairo").
This code-switching seems to occur completely naturally. At the same time, I am highly skeptical that they are simply unable to distinguish between languages when they are speaking. Instead, I view Arabeezy as a status symbol related to class and education.* English is taught in every Egyptian school, but often not very well. When I taught English last year in Alexandria at a private learning center, for example, my college-aged students who had taken English throughout their primary and secondary education were still making entry-level mistakes. For them, Arabeezy consisted of trying to speak a few words in English followed by a lapse back into Arabic because they couldn't find the appropriate English word to finish their sentence. For these AUC students, however, their seemingly unconscious code-switching between English and Arabic clues anyone listening to them into their command of English -- a skill that is intimately tied to class and means. While I am not sure if they are purposefully trying to impress us Americans, there definitely seems to be an element of superiority compared to the average Egyptian who knows only the most basic English words and phrases.
There are two other factors that encourage the Arabeezy phenomenon as well. First is the tendency of many upper-class Egyptians to follow Western pop culture religiously. Many of the AUC students have seen more American movies than I have, and I was shocked by how many of them knew the lyrics to American songs that we sang together on our outing to a public park in Cairo last weekend. The desire to speak English instead of Arabic follows from this general interest in pop culture. Secondly, it is undeniable that English proficiency is a huge advantage in the Egyptian labor market. Many of the well-known companies in the Egyptian private sector conduct their business partially or sometimes fully in English, and English is also a basic requirement for anyone going into a tourism-related business. Thus, Egyptians may see Arabeezy as a way to practice their English - especially when they are speaking to native English speakers whom they know will understand the English words that they use.
As a student of Arabic, I find Arabeezy incredibly frustrating. While I understand the factors that drive Egyptians to want to speak English with me, I would much rather have them speak to me fully in English or fully in Arabic. Combining the two languages, however, prevents both of us from learning anything. One of the most important benefits of listening to native speakers speak is that you learn how to construct sentences and use vocabulary in the proper context. Code-switching in the middle of sentences distracts attention from sentence construction, and it also does not help the speaker learn how to use English phrases and words in the proper context. Having the ability to speak more than one language is truly a gift, but with great ability comes great responsibility. So, to all the Arabeezy speakers out there, I beg you: at the beginning of every conversation, just pick a language and stick with it!
* I am not this first to make this argument. For an excellent window into the political and social developments in Egypt over the past 60 years, see Galal Amin's book Whatever Happened to the Egyptians?.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Adventures in Alexandria
Upfront disclaimer: Really long post!
Word of the day: مغامرة - (mookhamara - "adventure")
On Mondays and Tuesdays I usually have a one-on-one seminar with a Alexandria University professor focused on "Geopolitics in the Middle East," but, since my professor is out of town this week, I had a full afternoon free today. With so much time on my hands, I decided to undertake an adventure that I had been planning to do for a long time. I have written before on this blog about how much I love the "مناطق شعبية" ("minataq shaabia" translation: traditional/working class neighborhoods) in Alexandria. They are full of life, hustle and bustle, delicious bakeries and street-food shops, and there are always people there eager to talk with me about anything and everything. I have been visiting these neighborhoods one by one, usually with Galal, my Egyptian friend and running buddy. Today, however, Galal was busy so I went out by myself. My plan in the beginning was to go to my favorite lunch spot, stroll through my favorite souq that is near the restaurant, and then hop on the one of the tram lines that runs through a neighborhood called "ميناء البصل" ("Meena al Basal" literal translation: seaport of onion), a "shaabi" neighborhood that few if any of the Egyptian students living with us had ever visited. After that, I planned to ride another tram to the main train station and then, after a short walk, ride another tram back to the dorms. I ultimately achieved all of these goals, but the best parts of the adventure was not the transportation but instead the conversations and interactions I had with people on the street.
Here's a link to Google Maps that shows the route I took: http://bit.ly/aUFUcU
After I eating a delicious lunch of "فول و فلافل" (fava beans and falafel) at my favorite restaurant, Mohammed Ahmed, I took a short walk to my favorite souq that stretches out through one of Alexandria's oldest neighborhoods. Everything under the sun exists there. Today, I talked with a man selling squid about the possibility of cooking calamari, and I saw, for the first time in my life, a series of severed cow heads sitting on the street. Clearly nothing out of the ordinary. A few seconds after I first noticed the heads, the butcher started swinging his hatchet to break down the heads. I now have a firsthand understanding of just how big cow tongues really are!
I finished my walk through the souq and ambled over to the Abu Al-Abbas Mosque - Alexandria's most beautiful, in my opinion. Set just off the Mediterranean, the mosque is an architectural and artistic marvel. I was planning to go in and poke around the mosque for a bit, but instead I found a group of teenagers playing soccer in the mosque courtyard. They invited me to join in, so we spent about 20 minutes playing soccer, using one of the mosque walls as one goal and the other side of the courtyard as the other. As I was about to leave, one of the boys piped up "Give us some money, maybe five dollars!" I was somewhat surprised upon hearing this request. Unlike my experience in Kenya last summer when I was constantly asked for money almost everywhere I went, I really haven't had any similar experiences during my time in Egypt save for the occasional beggar on the street. Whereas in Kenya I probably would have shrugged it off and just went on my way, I decided to ask these kids why they had asked me for money. "We just played a friendly game of soccer, why are you asking me now for money? Is it because I am a foreigner and you think all foreigners have lots of money?" I asked them. Instantly, they turned very apologetic: "Oh no no, we didn't mean anything, we just want to buy a new soccer ball...sorry!" "Ok" I said, "No problem. I was just interested in why you asked me that question." I still tried to ask them one more time what the logic was behind their initial request, but I got the same response.
We chatted a little more as I was leaving the courtyard of the mosque, and somehow the conversation turned to the recent events in Israel. There has been a lot of resentment and anger amongst the Egyptians over the last few days over the Israeli expansion of settlements into East Jerusalem and the perception that a newly rebuilt temple near Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem is disrespectful and reflective of Israeli plans to desecrate the mosque. There was a protest yesterday at Alexandria University, and the newspapers have been following the story closely, too. Throughout the 2+ months I have been in Egypt I have never been reticent to tell people that I am Jewish, and I have never felt any threat to my physical safety as a result of telling people that I am Jewish. On the contrary, almost without exception I have been treated with respect even if the other person does not share my viewpoints. So I decided to seize the opportunity for another interesting conversation by telling these kids that I was Jewish. I think their being teenagers together in a group partially contributed to their initial reactions, which tended to be pretty negative. I had a few insults thrown at me and there was generally a lot of whooping and hollering among them. I kept completely calm, however, and made it completely clear to them from the beginning that I considered all of them friends and had tremendous respect for Islam. In the same way that I respected their religion, I expressed hope that they would respect me and my religion, too. Respect is a very strong word in Arabic and in Islam in general, and Muslims who I have talked with frequently quote the Qur'an as specifically telling them to respect Jews and Christians. So after the boys calmed down a bit, I explained to them that even though I am Jewish I do not automatically support everything that Israel does. "As a matter of fact," I told them, "I don't agree with the recent expansion of settlements and I think that Israel needs to reconsider its projects near Al-Aqsa seeing as to the extremely negative reaction from Muslims throughout the Middle East." Having established that I generally agreed with their current grievances, I went on to say that my overarching hope was that the two sides would find a way to work together to achieve peace and a two-state solution. "I don't respect any side - Israel or Palestine - that uses violence to further its causes," I told them, and most of them nodded their heads in agreement. At the same time, however, they became increasingly interested in the idea of convincing me that I had to recited the Shahada (There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is his messenger) and become a Muslim then and there. Staying patient, I explained to them that although I deeply respected their religion I did not want to convert. The conversation then reverted back into commotion, with some of them chanting the Shahada and some of them singing other random songs, so I sat back and waited for them to finish so we could return to our civil conversation that we had been having earlier. They eventually did, and we spent the last few minutes discussing the differences between the actions of the Israeli government and the general desire of the vast majority of the Jewish people for peace. I never felt any physical threat from them, but it was interesting from my perspective to see how they reacted upon hearing that I was Jewish and to hear some of their initial insults. I am happy, however, that the conversation took a turn for the better and I think we did reach a point of mutual understanding by the end of it.
After eating some delicious ice cream at the end of the peninsula in Alexandria that juts into the Mediterranean, I hopped on my first tram of the day and struck up a conversation with Mohammed, an old man who was sitting next to me. After the obligatory initial exclamation of surprise that I inevitably hear when I start to speak to someone in Arabic, we struck up a really interesting conversation about how Alexandria has changed throughout his life. He was born and raised here, and he spun the classic "back in my day" narrative about how life here used to better than it is now. At the same time, however, we did discuss some real issues such as the problem of youth unemployment. Mohammed said that when he graduated from college, a degree automatically earned you a stable job. For those without degrees, work was readily available in skilled trades. His opinion on the situation today was that fresh graduates feel entitled to instantly jump into a high level job in engineering, medicine, law, etc. Problems arise, however, when many of them realize that that option is not available. He said to me that the main problem is that they are unwilling to take any lower-paying or less-skilled job in the meantime. I have heard this story from many Egyptians - including my fellow Egyptian students at the university - and I have yet to hear any convincing ideas on how to solve the problem. One observation that I do have is that the idea of "entrepreneurship" is not particularly prominent in students' thinking about their options after graduation. A possible reason for this lack of entrepreneurship that I have heard from many of my fellow students is the Egyptian education system's seemingly endless quest to privilege memorization of information over creativity, critical-thinking skills, and discussions with professors instead of one-sided lectures.
In yet another example of the generosity that I have been so fortunate to have received here in Egypt, Mohammed absolutely insisted on paying my fare (5 cents) on the tram, and before he got off he made sure everyone else on the tram knew where I was trying to get to and would direct me accordingly.
The neighborhood Meena al Basal that I had planned the adventure around turned out to be fairly uninteresting. Just a conglomeration of light industrial factories and trucks coming and going from the port. Definitely working class, but generally without the general vibrancy that I have repeatedly found in other neighborhoods. Because I only saw it from tram, however, I think I owe the neighborhood another visit to poke around some more before I fully pass judgment. As I approached Alexandria's main train station, I was vaulted back into the working class world full of honking horns, crowded streets, and overwhelming sights and smells. After picking up a small pizza at one of the bakeries - and having yet another conversation on Israel, this time with the baker - I strolled down the main street of another working class neighborhood taking in scene. Bustling souqs, vendors hawking their wares, Egyptians relaxing in street-side cafes smoking sheesha and drinking tea, and mothers shepherding their children through the hustle and bustle of it all. I had to interrupt my walk for one of Alexandria's finest treats: fresh orange juice. And by fresh I mean literally juice squeezed from an orange on the spot. Delicious.
I finally reached my last tram of the day, and, of course, had to strike up a chat with everyone on the train. I was especially interested in a 10 year old kid who informed me with absolute certainty that he planned to visit me in America. I didn't realize how tired I was, however, until my eyes started to slowly glaze over in the middle of the ride, and before I knew it I found myself being tapped on the shoulder by one of my newly-made friends on the tram telling me that the tram had reached my stop. After bidding the people on the tram goodbye, I bought half a kilo of bananas from my favorite fruit stall and picked up a piping hot piece of of pita bread for 5 cents at the bakery. Finally, 5 hours after I started, I ended my adventure by triumphantly walking through the dorm gates and making a beeline for dinner.
Alexandria is truly the gift that keeps on giving. Not too big and not too small, I always find something new to surprise me when I go out exploring in the city. The best part, though, is the interactions that I have with people in places like the mosque courtyard / soccer field, the bakery, or the tram. Luckily for me, everyone's interest in chatting with the tall, undoubtedly foreign, blonde-haired guy who speaks Arabic never wanes.
Word of the day: مغامرة - (mookhamara - "adventure")
On Mondays and Tuesdays I usually have a one-on-one seminar with a Alexandria University professor focused on "Geopolitics in the Middle East," but, since my professor is out of town this week, I had a full afternoon free today. With so much time on my hands, I decided to undertake an adventure that I had been planning to do for a long time. I have written before on this blog about how much I love the "مناطق شعبية" ("minataq shaabia" translation: traditional/working class neighborhoods) in Alexandria. They are full of life, hustle and bustle, delicious bakeries and street-food shops, and there are always people there eager to talk with me about anything and everything. I have been visiting these neighborhoods one by one, usually with Galal, my Egyptian friend and running buddy. Today, however, Galal was busy so I went out by myself. My plan in the beginning was to go to my favorite lunch spot, stroll through my favorite souq that is near the restaurant, and then hop on the one of the tram lines that runs through a neighborhood called "ميناء البصل" ("Meena al Basal" literal translation: seaport of onion), a "shaabi" neighborhood that few if any of the Egyptian students living with us had ever visited. After that, I planned to ride another tram to the main train station and then, after a short walk, ride another tram back to the dorms. I ultimately achieved all of these goals, but the best parts of the adventure was not the transportation but instead the conversations and interactions I had with people on the street.
Here's a link to Google Maps that shows the route I took: http://bit.ly/aUFUcU
After I eating a delicious lunch of "فول و فلافل" (fava beans and falafel) at my favorite restaurant, Mohammed Ahmed, I took a short walk to my favorite souq that stretches out through one of Alexandria's oldest neighborhoods. Everything under the sun exists there. Today, I talked with a man selling squid about the possibility of cooking calamari, and I saw, for the first time in my life, a series of severed cow heads sitting on the street. Clearly nothing out of the ordinary. A few seconds after I first noticed the heads, the butcher started swinging his hatchet to break down the heads. I now have a firsthand understanding of just how big cow tongues really are!
I finished my walk through the souq and ambled over to the Abu Al-Abbas Mosque - Alexandria's most beautiful, in my opinion. Set just off the Mediterranean, the mosque is an architectural and artistic marvel. I was planning to go in and poke around the mosque for a bit, but instead I found a group of teenagers playing soccer in the mosque courtyard. They invited me to join in, so we spent about 20 minutes playing soccer, using one of the mosque walls as one goal and the other side of the courtyard as the other. As I was about to leave, one of the boys piped up "Give us some money, maybe five dollars!" I was somewhat surprised upon hearing this request. Unlike my experience in Kenya last summer when I was constantly asked for money almost everywhere I went, I really haven't had any similar experiences during my time in Egypt save for the occasional beggar on the street. Whereas in Kenya I probably would have shrugged it off and just went on my way, I decided to ask these kids why they had asked me for money. "We just played a friendly game of soccer, why are you asking me now for money? Is it because I am a foreigner and you think all foreigners have lots of money?" I asked them. Instantly, they turned very apologetic: "Oh no no, we didn't mean anything, we just want to buy a new soccer ball...sorry!" "Ok" I said, "No problem. I was just interested in why you asked me that question." I still tried to ask them one more time what the logic was behind their initial request, but I got the same response.
We chatted a little more as I was leaving the courtyard of the mosque, and somehow the conversation turned to the recent events in Israel. There has been a lot of resentment and anger amongst the Egyptians over the last few days over the Israeli expansion of settlements into East Jerusalem and the perception that a newly rebuilt temple near Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem is disrespectful and reflective of Israeli plans to desecrate the mosque. There was a protest yesterday at Alexandria University, and the newspapers have been following the story closely, too. Throughout the 2+ months I have been in Egypt I have never been reticent to tell people that I am Jewish, and I have never felt any threat to my physical safety as a result of telling people that I am Jewish. On the contrary, almost without exception I have been treated with respect even if the other person does not share my viewpoints. So I decided to seize the opportunity for another interesting conversation by telling these kids that I was Jewish. I think their being teenagers together in a group partially contributed to their initial reactions, which tended to be pretty negative. I had a few insults thrown at me and there was generally a lot of whooping and hollering among them. I kept completely calm, however, and made it completely clear to them from the beginning that I considered all of them friends and had tremendous respect for Islam. In the same way that I respected their religion, I expressed hope that they would respect me and my religion, too. Respect is a very strong word in Arabic and in Islam in general, and Muslims who I have talked with frequently quote the Qur'an as specifically telling them to respect Jews and Christians. So after the boys calmed down a bit, I explained to them that even though I am Jewish I do not automatically support everything that Israel does. "As a matter of fact," I told them, "I don't agree with the recent expansion of settlements and I think that Israel needs to reconsider its projects near Al-Aqsa seeing as to the extremely negative reaction from Muslims throughout the Middle East." Having established that I generally agreed with their current grievances, I went on to say that my overarching hope was that the two sides would find a way to work together to achieve peace and a two-state solution. "I don't respect any side - Israel or Palestine - that uses violence to further its causes," I told them, and most of them nodded their heads in agreement. At the same time, however, they became increasingly interested in the idea of convincing me that I had to recited the Shahada (There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is his messenger) and become a Muslim then and there. Staying patient, I explained to them that although I deeply respected their religion I did not want to convert. The conversation then reverted back into commotion, with some of them chanting the Shahada and some of them singing other random songs, so I sat back and waited for them to finish so we could return to our civil conversation that we had been having earlier. They eventually did, and we spent the last few minutes discussing the differences between the actions of the Israeli government and the general desire of the vast majority of the Jewish people for peace. I never felt any physical threat from them, but it was interesting from my perspective to see how they reacted upon hearing that I was Jewish and to hear some of their initial insults. I am happy, however, that the conversation took a turn for the better and I think we did reach a point of mutual understanding by the end of it.
After eating some delicious ice cream at the end of the peninsula in Alexandria that juts into the Mediterranean, I hopped on my first tram of the day and struck up a conversation with Mohammed, an old man who was sitting next to me. After the obligatory initial exclamation of surprise that I inevitably hear when I start to speak to someone in Arabic, we struck up a really interesting conversation about how Alexandria has changed throughout his life. He was born and raised here, and he spun the classic "back in my day" narrative about how life here used to better than it is now. At the same time, however, we did discuss some real issues such as the problem of youth unemployment. Mohammed said that when he graduated from college, a degree automatically earned you a stable job. For those without degrees, work was readily available in skilled trades. His opinion on the situation today was that fresh graduates feel entitled to instantly jump into a high level job in engineering, medicine, law, etc. Problems arise, however, when many of them realize that that option is not available. He said to me that the main problem is that they are unwilling to take any lower-paying or less-skilled job in the meantime. I have heard this story from many Egyptians - including my fellow Egyptian students at the university - and I have yet to hear any convincing ideas on how to solve the problem. One observation that I do have is that the idea of "entrepreneurship" is not particularly prominent in students' thinking about their options after graduation. A possible reason for this lack of entrepreneurship that I have heard from many of my fellow students is the Egyptian education system's seemingly endless quest to privilege memorization of information over creativity, critical-thinking skills, and discussions with professors instead of one-sided lectures.
In yet another example of the generosity that I have been so fortunate to have received here in Egypt, Mohammed absolutely insisted on paying my fare (5 cents) on the tram, and before he got off he made sure everyone else on the tram knew where I was trying to get to and would direct me accordingly.
The neighborhood Meena al Basal that I had planned the adventure around turned out to be fairly uninteresting. Just a conglomeration of light industrial factories and trucks coming and going from the port. Definitely working class, but generally without the general vibrancy that I have repeatedly found in other neighborhoods. Because I only saw it from tram, however, I think I owe the neighborhood another visit to poke around some more before I fully pass judgment. As I approached Alexandria's main train station, I was vaulted back into the working class world full of honking horns, crowded streets, and overwhelming sights and smells. After picking up a small pizza at one of the bakeries - and having yet another conversation on Israel, this time with the baker - I strolled down the main street of another working class neighborhood taking in scene. Bustling souqs, vendors hawking their wares, Egyptians relaxing in street-side cafes smoking sheesha and drinking tea, and mothers shepherding their children through the hustle and bustle of it all. I had to interrupt my walk for one of Alexandria's finest treats: fresh orange juice. And by fresh I mean literally juice squeezed from an orange on the spot. Delicious.
I finally reached my last tram of the day, and, of course, had to strike up a chat with everyone on the train. I was especially interested in a 10 year old kid who informed me with absolute certainty that he planned to visit me in America. I didn't realize how tired I was, however, until my eyes started to slowly glaze over in the middle of the ride, and before I knew it I found myself being tapped on the shoulder by one of my newly-made friends on the tram telling me that the tram had reached my stop. After bidding the people on the tram goodbye, I bought half a kilo of bananas from my favorite fruit stall and picked up a piping hot piece of of pita bread for 5 cents at the bakery. Finally, 5 hours after I started, I ended my adventure by triumphantly walking through the dorm gates and making a beeline for dinner.
Alexandria is truly the gift that keeps on giving. Not too big and not too small, I always find something new to surprise me when I go out exploring in the city. The best part, though, is the interactions that I have with people in places like the mosque courtyard / soccer field, the bakery, or the tram. Luckily for me, everyone's interest in chatting with the tall, undoubtedly foreign, blonde-haired guy who speaks Arabic never wanes.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
The Last 2 Weeks in a Nutshell
It's been awhile since I've written on the blog, somewhat because school work is starting to pick up but also because there is just so much to do here that I don't have much free time! We are now on break for the next week and half, so I no longer have an excuse for not posting. Thus, here are a few fun experiences from the past week and a half:
1) My first Egyptian wedding. Last Thursday, three of us tagged along with the program's academic director to his friend's wedding. The wedding was in a suburb of Alexandria named "Wahed wa Ashreen" or, in English, simply "21." The unimaginative name is inspired by the fact this town is 21 kilometers from the center of Alexandria. The town didn't have many distinguishing features, and seemed decidedly middle class by Egyptian standards - modest, low-rise apartment buildings without much attention paid to aesthetics, satellite dishes everywhere, electricity, and bumpy roads. What was most interesting to me was the general absence of all forms of transportation on the streets. We saw a few cars parked along the sides of some of the streets, but we never saw or heard nary a motorcycle, bike, or car actually moving while we were there. As such, the roads turned into a playground for the local kids and a free and public venue for the wedding.
As guests, we were treated with the utmost respect and at every opportunity someone from the groom's family insisted that we eat more food or drink another cup of tea. One of the hardest jobs in Egypt is that of the guest: the host will always bring more food to the table than is humanly possible to eat, but you have to try your best to eat as much as possible lest you appear disrespectful. It's a tough task, but one I do enjoy (especially when there is good food like the Upper Egyptian food we were treated to at the wedding). When you are obliged to eat two huge meals in the span of two hours, however, it can become a bit much.
After our two dinners, we sat in the street and alternately watched and participated in the dancing / fundraising portion of the wedding. The groom and his family were from Upper Egypt (i.e. the south of Egypt), so this portion of the wedding included music played on a recorder-like instrument and drum from the region. As each person gave a small donation to cover the cost of the wedding, he would say who the donation was in honor of and would then get up to dance with the musicians. We donated in honor of Alexandria University, America, and finally Barack Obama, and then proceeded to do our best to emulate the Upper Egyptian style of dancing that we had watched the other men do quite gracefully before us.
Unfortunately after the dancing ended we had spent four hours at the wedding and we had to get back to Alexandria for a birthday party (and another huge meal). There was still no sign of the bride when we left, but I ran into the groom by coincidence a few days ago in Alexandria and he told me that the rest of the wedding went quite well. Alf mabrook (congratulations!)
2) As my Arabic skills continue to develop, I am starting to have some interesting conversations with the Egyptian students that go beyond basic, daily topics such as school, sports, and, my personal favorite, food. As opposed to my experience in Kenya last summer where I would read the English-language newspaper everyday and stay abreast of political developments, I am relatively cut off from Egyptian politics. I don't have time to slog through Arabic newspaper articles every day, and I didn't know much if anything about Egyptian politics before I arrived. In the month and a half that I have been here, however, I have heard the constant refrain from nearly everyone I've talked to that the current government is rife with corruption, inefficient in service delivery, and generally unable to take up the real problems (primarily unemployment) that the country faces. I have focused particularly on the shabab (youth) when thinking about the political situation in the country, and over the past week and a half I had a few chats with my Egyptian friends focused on the future of youth and politics in Egypt.
There are groups of young men all over the place in Alexandria, and Egypt, like most developing countries, has a disproportionally high percentage of its population under 30 years old. So the first question I always ask about the issue is about the options that these youth have. Is a steady job available for your average college student after he graduates? What if you don't make it to college? Are these youth seemingly languishing on the streets simply unambitious, or are they victims of an education system that doesn't prepare them well for future employment? What is their level of interest in politics? The general answers that I have heard so far is that these youth are victims of a poorly-designed and antiquated education system and a gerontocratic society that prioritizes age over skills at their expense. It would be a mistake, of course, to apply these sweeping generalizations to every Egyptian, but the reality on the street should not be taken lightly. Having large groups of unemployed, disaffected youth who are thereby cut off from engaging in the normal social processes of earning a steady income, finding a spouse, and starting a family is a potentially dangerous situation for the government and general stability in the country. The question that remains and that I want to take discuss more with my Egyptian friends is about the political alternatives that might or might not exist. I have heard some of my friends express support for the Muslim Brotherhood, some for the potential presidential candidacy of Mohamed el-Baradei (former head of the IAEA), and some continue to support Hosni Mubarak. As the semester goes on, I am going to keep trying to get my head around these issues and hopefully learn some useful Arabic vocabulary in the process.
We're off on our group trip to Sinai for the next few days, and after that some of us are going to Jordan to visit, among other things, Petra. I am complete ready for the beach, snorkeling, and, of course, for some more fun adventures in Egypt and Jordan.
UPDATE: After waiting five hours for our shredded bus tire to get fixed in a random rest stop on the side of the road in Sinai, we finally made it to Dahab. All of us are 100% relaxed here - life is good. More to come soon on Sinai and my upcoming trip to Jordan
1) My first Egyptian wedding. Last Thursday, three of us tagged along with the program's academic director to his friend's wedding. The wedding was in a suburb of Alexandria named "Wahed wa Ashreen" or, in English, simply "21." The unimaginative name is inspired by the fact this town is 21 kilometers from the center of Alexandria. The town didn't have many distinguishing features, and seemed decidedly middle class by Egyptian standards - modest, low-rise apartment buildings without much attention paid to aesthetics, satellite dishes everywhere, electricity, and bumpy roads. What was most interesting to me was the general absence of all forms of transportation on the streets. We saw a few cars parked along the sides of some of the streets, but we never saw or heard nary a motorcycle, bike, or car actually moving while we were there. As such, the roads turned into a playground for the local kids and a free and public venue for the wedding.
As guests, we were treated with the utmost respect and at every opportunity someone from the groom's family insisted that we eat more food or drink another cup of tea. One of the hardest jobs in Egypt is that of the guest: the host will always bring more food to the table than is humanly possible to eat, but you have to try your best to eat as much as possible lest you appear disrespectful. It's a tough task, but one I do enjoy (especially when there is good food like the Upper Egyptian food we were treated to at the wedding). When you are obliged to eat two huge meals in the span of two hours, however, it can become a bit much.
After our two dinners, we sat in the street and alternately watched and participated in the dancing / fundraising portion of the wedding. The groom and his family were from Upper Egypt (i.e. the south of Egypt), so this portion of the wedding included music played on a recorder-like instrument and drum from the region. As each person gave a small donation to cover the cost of the wedding, he would say who the donation was in honor of and would then get up to dance with the musicians. We donated in honor of Alexandria University, America, and finally Barack Obama, and then proceeded to do our best to emulate the Upper Egyptian style of dancing that we had watched the other men do quite gracefully before us.
Unfortunately after the dancing ended we had spent four hours at the wedding and we had to get back to Alexandria for a birthday party (and another huge meal). There was still no sign of the bride when we left, but I ran into the groom by coincidence a few days ago in Alexandria and he told me that the rest of the wedding went quite well. Alf mabrook (congratulations!)
2) As my Arabic skills continue to develop, I am starting to have some interesting conversations with the Egyptian students that go beyond basic, daily topics such as school, sports, and, my personal favorite, food. As opposed to my experience in Kenya last summer where I would read the English-language newspaper everyday and stay abreast of political developments, I am relatively cut off from Egyptian politics. I don't have time to slog through Arabic newspaper articles every day, and I didn't know much if anything about Egyptian politics before I arrived. In the month and a half that I have been here, however, I have heard the constant refrain from nearly everyone I've talked to that the current government is rife with corruption, inefficient in service delivery, and generally unable to take up the real problems (primarily unemployment) that the country faces. I have focused particularly on the shabab (youth) when thinking about the political situation in the country, and over the past week and a half I had a few chats with my Egyptian friends focused on the future of youth and politics in Egypt.
There are groups of young men all over the place in Alexandria, and Egypt, like most developing countries, has a disproportionally high percentage of its population under 30 years old. So the first question I always ask about the issue is about the options that these youth have. Is a steady job available for your average college student after he graduates? What if you don't make it to college? Are these youth seemingly languishing on the streets simply unambitious, or are they victims of an education system that doesn't prepare them well for future employment? What is their level of interest in politics? The general answers that I have heard so far is that these youth are victims of a poorly-designed and antiquated education system and a gerontocratic society that prioritizes age over skills at their expense. It would be a mistake, of course, to apply these sweeping generalizations to every Egyptian, but the reality on the street should not be taken lightly. Having large groups of unemployed, disaffected youth who are thereby cut off from engaging in the normal social processes of earning a steady income, finding a spouse, and starting a family is a potentially dangerous situation for the government and general stability in the country. The question that remains and that I want to take discuss more with my Egyptian friends is about the political alternatives that might or might not exist. I have heard some of my friends express support for the Muslim Brotherhood, some for the potential presidential candidacy of Mohamed el-Baradei (former head of the IAEA), and some continue to support Hosni Mubarak. As the semester goes on, I am going to keep trying to get my head around these issues and hopefully learn some useful Arabic vocabulary in the process.
We're off on our group trip to Sinai for the next few days, and after that some of us are going to Jordan to visit, among other things, Petra. I am complete ready for the beach, snorkeling, and, of course, for some more fun adventures in Egypt and Jordan.
UPDATE: After waiting five hours for our shredded bus tire to get fixed in a random rest stop on the side of the road in Sinai, we finally made it to Dahab. All of us are 100% relaxed here - life is good. More to come soon on Sinai and my upcoming trip to Jordan
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