Ramadan from a infidel perspective

Ramadan, which is the holy month in the Muslim world based on the ninth lunar cycle, is meant to mark the time when the Qu’ran was revealed to the prophet Mohammed. It is a transforming time in Cairo, and seems to captivate this city of 18 million in ways that nothing else in the world can. I am in no way qualified to explain it, but here are some of my understandings and observations.

If you are Muslim, you aren’t allowed to eat, drink, smoke, or have sex until after the evening prayer which happens around 6:20 (each day it becomes a minute less) unless you are elderly, sick, or pregnant. This breaking of the fast is called Iftar, and it must be done communally, usually with families, but many charitable groups and restaurants put out large tables with free food for the poor or for those who aren’t able to get to their families in time. Ironically, this is called “breakfast.” During this time the main streets of Cairo which usually are a jungle, are about a tenth as crowded, and side streets are completely dead. So for the non-Muslims, this is the ideal time to get somewhere in the city. If you want to be like the prophet Mohammed, you eat dates and drink milk, which some taxi driver shared with me and David when we caught a taxi at Iftar, but the typical meal is soup and rice with some ful (beans) and maybe some lahma (meat). Once the sun comes up, you aren’t allowed to eat again, so the last time people eat is call the suhur, at around 4 in the morning to be finished by the time of the morning prayer at 5 AM.

The whole idea is to think pure thoughts, be extra charitable, and to work on being a good person. Although that is the purpose, it is evidently taxing on some of the other teachers. One of the new foreign teachers of grade 4, Javier – from the States and Puerto Rico, is constantly grumpy and stressed because he sleeps only 3 hours a night (because he has to hang out with his Fiancée’s family until midnight), not to mention he has never taught before… Pretty much all of my students (10 and 11 years old) are fasting for the first time, and at school that means shorter classes – we end at 1:30 so the bus drivers can get home, and more breaks during PE class. I don’t eat at school anyways, (or I will discreetly snake at my desk in my staff room) mostly out of respect – except for this one time when I was on break duty (which is when the younger students can buy food from the canteen), and this one third grade bought a frosted carrot cake, which he couldn’t finish in time and of course couldn’t bring into the class room. I was starving so I did him a favor and ate it. The whole no alcohol rule is big too. Although it is hardly followed by all Muslims, during Ramadan, it is extra bad if you drink, so for the most part, all of the bars and nightclubs are closed.


I saw this on a walk I took today. Gotta love Chilis..

More about school

The mornings now start with all of the primary students standing out on the front lawn to a quick message from the supervisor Ms. Inji. I am on the far end because I have the oldest children. Then, we do a warm up to music, which is actually hilarious because none of the older kids do it. It includes jumping up and down and a lot of bouncing stretches to the count of 8. We then salute the flag and sing the national anthem and then head inside for “circle time.” Every class begins with me saying “good morning class,” and the whole class responding “Good morning Mister Christophe.” (Whenever someone has something to say, it is either “Mister, Mister!” or “Mister Christophe!”) Then I will go on to say the morning message which always is an inspiring quote that I write up the night before. Today’s was “a truly happy person is the person who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.” Uncoincidentally, I got a phone call at 6 AM this morning saying that the staff bus that would come to pick me up at the normal time would not be coming, reasons unknown. I rode in with the children’s bus on a different route.

In more ways than I think I can appreciate, working at the summer camp prepared me for working with children at this age. Between knowing when to be more strict with them, to learning patience with them, to being able to gauge attention span and intellect, I find myself very comfortable with these eleven and ten year olds. Much more than I would like though, much of what I do is thought up in the classroom, on the fly, seeing right then and there what will work - and what wont, with a basic structure in mind. Much of this whole teaching business is charting new territories in what I have ever had to do before. Planning lessons is a pain in the ass, but really necessary. I still try to make things fun and structured within the general guide that is provided for me. So far we have just been reading stories, and discussing them, which is easy enough to plan, but I am still at the point where I am planning the class the night before. Slowly, teaching tricks are being added to my arsenal, but it is slow.

As the gym teacher, I decided to take a class to teach them dodgeball. This went over really badly. They all cheated and did not stay in the court. Some of them refused to go to jail. Then when I was looking the other way, one of them threw a ball. No sooner had I turned around but the ball made direct contact to my nose. I tried had to remain under the impression that it was an accident. For the most part though, they enjoy gym, and they enjoy my coaching. And there is always the good challenge of making sure the fat and uncoordinated kids are not all on the same team.

My Classroom. Note the orange octopus with bubbles coming from his mouth. "Mr. Christophe Jospe. Primary Six Blue"

Bulletin Board.

View from the other side.

Literally across the street from the school. Without technology my school would most definitely be in a desert. 

Standing in the same spot, back at the school. 

The GVS

So I had my first day school with the students yesterday.

I work at GVS as a Sixth Grade English and PE teacher (School Website - http://www.gvschool.net/) I am the class teacher for primary six blue, which means that I get to know them a little bit better, and have them for something called circle time - which is basically homeroom. I teach them and primary six yellow English and PE. So far it is still early in the year and it is hard to give real impressions on how the school is, but I really like the way everything is structured. My supervisor, Inji, is incredibly helpful with everything, and seems to be everywhere at the same time, and knows everything. It also helps that the lesson plans are basically written out for me at least initially, so basically I follow a written plan. The day starts at 6:40 when I get picked up by a bus near my apartment, and I get to the school at around 7:30. The drive to the school goes out of Heliopolis, passed the airport, and out of Cairo. The school is basically in the desert, in one of the rich suburbs that is moving out of the city, so on the drive there is construction everywhere (we even pass a mall that is in the process of being built). There are seven periods a day, and since it is Ramadan, there is a special schedule so the school can end at 7:30.

I like my class, there seem to be a lot of characters in it, but of course it has only been one day, and I have been warned by the teacher who had them last year that there was a group in the class who referred to themselves as "the mischievous 8." Although, between being from New York and being a male, I think I have been able to win their respect. (there are about 10 male staff, and 4 foreign teachers in the whole school - staff around 60). That, and I will also be their PE teacher, so I am pretty sure that all of the guys will like me. Although I will definitely have to get used to treating the children differently than I did as a camp counselor, I hope that my patience with the kids will work out. For PE we are downstairs in some gym, and the old gym teacher showed me some kind of dodgeball that they can play on the first day. He then left, and then I tried to play some kind of tag with them which the boys enjoyed, but was a cultural mistake. I tried to have them play a sort of partner tag - where two people are linking arms, and one person is "it" and another is trying to stay away - once the person being chased links up to one groups arms, the person on the other side has to leave. This was fine and well, except the girls weren't playing, and the boys refused to touch their arms. When I said "come on guys, the girls wont bite," one of the boys responded, "No, but in Egypt we aren't allowed to touch the girls." Have joking, perhaps thinking that the girls had cooties, half cultural truth..

Front view of the school.

Down the street where we get dropped off by the bus. 

The bus that picks me up every day. Back ground of El Obour city.

My turf

So now I am moved in to the part of town in Cairo that is called Heliopolis. It is perfect for my situation, because it is the closest part of Cairo to the Green Valley School, which is in a suburb that is basically in the desert with not much other than residential life. I found a roommate pretty randomly, but quite easily. He is Norwegian and will be studying intensive Arabic at the AUC (American University in Cairo). This is good because it means that I will be able to practice Arabic with him, and he is also like me in a lot of ways. Especially in his enjoyment and interest for genuine parts of a country, large group of friends, shamelessness in speaking Arabic, and insistence on finding cheap street meat. 

This is a quieter part of town, but it still has elements that seem to be throughout Cairo. Cats everywhere, like everywhere. Lots of trash on the street and sidewalk. Crossing the street is like playing the computer game frogger. Basically, you can't cross all in one go. You need to advance a little bit once there is space in the first lane, let the traffic pass, and then make it to the other side inshallah (Arabic for God Willing). There is still lots of honking, but in our neighborhood, it is quieter, and there are plenty of trees. Some old buildings, lots of unfinished buildings, lots of shops everywhere. You can turn street corners and see old men smoking shisha playing backgammon, and then turn another street corner to find markets of all types - meat, fruit and vegetables, bakeries, general stores, cameras, appliance shops, pharmacies, wicker chairs, barbershops, restaurants, everything. 

Now it is Ramadan, so people have been fasting all day, and that means that at around 6 o clock once iftah happens, which is when they can break fast, everyone comes out after about a 15 minute citywide lull. It is incredible, everyone fasts, so during this time the traffic diminishes about 95%. Even the Christians fast out of respect - or at least aren't visible during this time. It also means that at night, the streets are packed with people, and everything is alive. I'm not sure if I can credit Ramadan for this vivacity or if it just happens all of the time, but either way, it is a true show of life here. 

Here you can see the nearest Square to me, Midan Ismaliya. In the middle of the street you can see the tram tracks, and the trams are ridable for .05$. 

 This is my street, Qambis street. My apartment is basically behind the right end of the tree on the left. 

This is the courtyard view from the stairwell in my apartment.

Another view from Qambis street going towards the square.

Engagement Party

I had the day off, and I decided that I needed two more days in my hostel to really figure shit out. In a way, leaving the hostel can be a stretch, because it is a breach of the false comfort zone that one has set up for oneself. Either way, I took off with the intention of finding an English book store and going to the Egyptian museum. I also happened to eavesdrop on an American couple’s conversation at reception in the Hostel about finding an apartment, and it turned out that they had a friend in Heliopolis (the town where I wanted to be) who was looking for a roommate. Without much further ado, I piped in and got the number of this friend, setting a time to meet between five and six, to meet and talk about the apartment. So basically I had time to kill.

I found the book store, almost by mistake, but found the book that I seem to have lost at camp, “Cairo the city Victorious.”

Popping my head into a bakery, this one random dude stopped me and said “are you looking for some real food?” Since I am one to talk to strangers, especially when I don’t know how to pass the day, I put my guard up and said, “Yeah, actually.” And this man went on to explain that he didn’t want to come off as too forward, but that he studied English with the hopes of being able to practice it as much as he could. His nickname was Ali, but his name was Wael. Strange, but normal enough. He took me to an authentic Egyptian lunch, where there was only one thing on the menu, watched me eat and told me his whole life story. His father was quite rich and owned a papyrus company, he wanted to go to the United States one day, and he loved helping people. He then went on to ask me if I was willing to buy alcohol for him. Ha. I knew there would be a catch. I wasn’t sure about this, but I wasn’t quite yet ready to ditch this interesting character. So I stalled him, and gave him neither a yes or no. He then went on to saying how he could help me find an apartment, assuring that he could. He took me into his shop, and interoduced me to some of his friends who turned out to be Peruvian. They assured me that this man was nice, literally knew everyone in town, crazy, but completely harmless. Either way, I had time to kill, he was paying, and he insisted that he could help me out in any way possible. It meant that I had to grab my passport, but once I did, he bought me a tea, and we waited for his friend. We made it to the Sheraton no problem, where you could buy alcohol at the duty free shop. He then took me back to his shop, and showed me some of the papyrus that his father makes. I ended up buying two for an absurdly low price. One for Rudi, and one for me, both which I put in a package that would be sent home. We continued talking, but by this time, I had my guard up enough against this old fellow. He told me that the alcohol was for an engagement party, and that I was more than invited. I thought about coming, but at this time though, I had my meeting with David, a potential flatmate in Heliopolis, which was a great meeting. David was Norwegian, had studied in Cairo before, speaks Arabic, and seemed to know his way around town. We talked for a good 30 minutes, and hit it off real well, but by that time I had to take off back to the engagement party.
The party turned out to be a real hit. I was the only whitey there, but that didn’t really matter. It was a genuine invitation to an event that most outsiders would have a difficult time getting invited to. I introduced myself to the important people (the parents and the engaged), after giving them my gift (some extra Swiss chocolate that I had bought), I sat on the chairs for a while, watching the party go on. People dancing to Arabic music. Lots of clapping. Then at one point, the grandmother pulled me up and started dancing with me. Before I knew it I was in the center of the circle, being demanded to perform. I did, and people enjoyed it, morre clapping. A couple of phone number changing and facebook promises later, I took off.

In sum, life seems to be working out from random encounters, and I have begun to experience the extreme niceness which Egyptians are capable of. It is day 3, I have been to an Egyptian engagement party, and I have a roommate who seems legit in the area where I want to be.

First Cairo Impressions

Now I am in Cairo, writing this from the 13th floor of the restaurant in my hostel in downtown Cairo, over looking tall apartment buildings, unfinished top floors, mosques jutting upwards, banks, one church, and buildings with Arabic writing going up it. The city is endless, and the smog makes it so you can see faint silhouettes of sky scrapers, but nothing more. It is hot, but there is a breeze coming through the window. There are a dissonance of sounds; Arabic prayer coming through a loud speaker, honks from the traffic below, the buzz of air conditioning.

I just finished my breakfast. Two pieces of bread, jam, butter, and tea. I treated myself to some extra chocolate that I bought in Switzerland though.

The trip from the airport to my hostel was supposed to be painless. In less than 20 minutes, I landed, bought a visa, changed some money, and grabbed my bags to find someone waiting for me with my name. This was the assistant to the lady who was helping me to find an apartment, chosen because it was much trustier than just a normal taxi. Instead, it turned into a mini disaster when the car broke down on the sixth of October bridge. This is the largest bridge in Cairo, and it stretches over a large number of slums in the city. Yes, the car broke down, and the three of us in the car were behind it, pushing it, trying to get it to start in the midst of honking and traffic. It started once, but that was a tease because 300 feet later, it broke down again. We ended up pushing it off of the bridge for a good half mile to a place where I could take a taxi with Ahmed, the younger guy who came along. We made it to the hostel just fine, and he helped me buy a cell phone. This was key, because without it I wouldn’t have found the bus to the school the next morning.

The next day, orientation at the school where I will be teaching until June started at around 9:30, after being picked up by the staff bus in a downtown square (Tahrir Square) at around 8. It was definitely overwhelming the first day; to meet a number of people, my bosses, see my classroom, begin to learn the rules of the school, and knowing that what you are learning is just the tip of the iceberg to all of the little things that go into being a foreign teacher. Fortunately, everyone at the school is very pleasant, and there are also at least two others in my position, so people have extended themselves to being very helpful.

I now have the next two days off, maybe three, depending on when Ramadan decides to begin. The first day of Ramadan is when the Crescent moon shows itself, so it could start on either Sunday or Monday. There is no way of knowing until Saturday night. Tomorrow I will look at apartments, and I have a large amount of material to read and prepare. The way I see it, this whole time in Cairo will be a mental test; challenging my threshold to the complete foreign and my resilience to it. In work, it will be doing the best job that I can.

I am sure that part of me is going through culture shock, but that has been the plan all along. I know that this will be tough, but my goals are still the same, to learn Arabic, make friends, to learn about myself, and to find meaning in the Middle East.

more about camp

Before I go on to what's happening now, there need to be a couple recaps from camp.
Ninja assassin needs a proper explanation.

Let me rewind first. A lot of credit to this game should be given to the excursion that the juniors took to adventure park. Basically this place is an attraction ground for kids to the max. Not only does it have millions of games everywhere, but it also has the largest labyrinth in the world. It is huge. It is a bit stressful to lead 8 kids through it – each one wanting to go this way and that – and having to mediate between all of them. Some of the parts of the maze are actually pretty cool. There is a zipline, a spider cage, a rope that you are supposed to swing across. Of course my fat Russian kid, Vova, didn’t make it across this rope, and all of his change fell in the dirty pool. We ended up seeing a place where you could climb up, and made it out. In this park, they had some of the biggest slides that you had to go down with a burlap sack. To get to these slides you actually had to climb up about 7 or 8 stories, and the wind up there was definitely above hat speed. On top of all this, the people gave us about 500 water balloons and told us that in one part of the park there was going to be a water balloon fight. Instead of giving these out to kids, as counselors, we knew better, and kept them for ourselves.

That evening, when all of the kids had evening activities, Logan, Janine and myself made some coordinated attacks. Although I guess this could be seen as obnoxious, it was mostly for fun and to lighten up the long job that the specialists had with our kids. We started with Giuseppe down on sports one. Attacking him from storming down the hill, and me coming in from behind the large circus tent, he ran and ducked to get hit by little water balloon fray. Yann was next down at circus. At the time he was consoling a girl on the tight rope, but since Logan and Janine saw him first, and I was swooping around on the other side, I could not be informed of this in time. Boom. Direct shot on the chest. Soaked. At least the girl stopped crying. We then hiked up to get Daniel Banks (a largely disliked counselor who had taken my job as the Karate specialist). Instead of doing Karate with his one child, he was in the arts and crafts room. A couple squirts with the gun got him outside to some righteous point blank shots. Mattieu was next, an easy target at climbing. As a new staff member, he took it like a champ, and we weren’t too malicious. The last target was Alex at music. By this time, we had Kevin with us, and he was able to coax Alex outside of the music hall who then became berated with water. I kind of felt bad about this one, because we really did get him wet, and he had a dinner about 30 minute later.

Anyways, this planted the seed in people’s mind about Ninja Assassin. Ninja, because things this year have been ninja, from
Ninja chair - a game that takes place at santa maria that involves through a golf ball through a heart shaped hole, to Ninja horsehoe (the same game but with a clay horseshoe), to Ninja anything (anything that you do that is stealthy around camp).



So here's how the game worked. The night before, Logan and I carved out a Potato with the word Ninja on it, which we proceeded to soak up in red paint which made it the "ninja stamp." Then, with the 41 names playing, Logan took the first 20, I took the last 21 - so we wouldn't know where the names were, we decided who had to kill who, placed the name inside an envelope along with 10 balloons. Basically, you had to kill your name, and once you killed that person, then they were supposed to give you their name. You could kill them using a water balloon, a water pistol, or a water bottle. If someone was trying to kill you, and you got them wet before they could get you wet, then you had immunity from that person for one hour. The game went off without a hitch, and even though people were pissed they got killed, I am pretty sure everyone enjoyed it. Jenny won, but since she was cheap about it, it was the righteous thing to do to go down to Golf with about 40 balloons and 6 other people and make it rain.

To recap camp as a whole, it has been amazing, I am happy I went, and I have made some more great friends this summer. I will miss them all and all of the memories.