A blast in Khan Khalili

First of all, my condolences to the family of the French teenager who died from the bombing in Cairo and all those injured. But here I sit, stalling in tomorrow's lesson plan to get something off my chest: May there be a special level in hell for the mindless terrorists. What does this accomplish? Making tourists think twice before they hit "book" on the flight to Cairo? Reducing Cairo itineraries to three days instead of four out of fear from going to one being blown to bits in one of the most fun markets to haggle for cheap goods? Leaking dollars away that are depended on for the biggest source of foreign money in Egypt, which directly keep a class of people from plummeting into poverty? Political analysts will be quick to assert that terrorism in Egypt is not uncommon,  and tourists are the frequent target from those who are upset with the government, yet these bombings are part of small groups who are unorganized in their demands. And for what? The government will crack down harder in this "emergency state," the tourist money will decrease, and the life for many in some form or another will get worse. No one cheers at this unbridled and inexplicable hate wrongfully taken out on the innocent. And worse off, nothing will be done to address the root of the grievances. Higher walls will be built, greater mistrust will ensue; from the outsiders towards Egyptians, from the Egyptians to their government which cannot provide safety, and from the people here, who will pay the price of someone else's Finally to all those who can look at an event like this and say how it fits in with the dogma "not all Muslims are terrorists, but all terrorists are Muslims," whoever did this, in fact betrayed their religion, and the ignorance and poverty in which they live is a horrible thing.



Inside al-Azhar mosque, the Mosque across the street from the bombing. A true place of peace...

 

Morocco

Ahh Morocco, le Maroc, Maghreb. It's been a week now since I've been back, so once again a blog entry is overdue.

The formula was perfect; meeting up with Michaela in Paris for two nights (enjoying good food, caught up with Mathias and Marius my norwegian friends from Cairo, six o clock mass in Notre Dame, Montmarte, la vie en rose...) before the ten day trip, with a round trip ticket on the same plane to Casablanca, and a car rental for the whole time. The total of driving was almost 2,000 kilometers, which combined with the best company, breathtaking views, fun roads, friendly animals on the side of the road, some solid Moroccan hiphop and groove music, and giving the occasional lift to a Moroccan, was more than tolerable. The travel log looked like this; landed in Casablanca, drove that night to Rabat, drove to Tangiers, drove to Chefchauen, drove to Fes (2 nights), drove to Marrakesch, drove to Essauoira (2 nights), drove back to Casablanca.

It is hard to put into words how incredible of a country it is. We drove past vast expanses of green, through rocky mountains, along the Mediterranean and Atlantic Coast, and even through snow! It's funny how we saw more of Morocco that the majority of Moroccans will see in their lifetime, but still barely scratched the surface of what Morocco is truly like. Maybe we found a taste of it when in a CD store at one point when the inquiry about hiphop music opened up a floodgate of information and pride about the fusion of traditional Berber culture (the tribe living in Morocco before the arrival of Islam), mixed with the hiphop in French, Arabic, and Berber. On the other side of it, we met Moroccans who jokingly would say "you shouldn't trust him, he's a Berber." Many of the men wear Jallibayas, which from American eyes look strikingly similar to KKK robes; long, with a point hood, except these ones come in all sorts of colors, from brown, grey, black, dark green, to the less common striped and crimson colors. Coming from Egypt, the people there are far less obtrusive and pushy to try to get you to buy things, and in every city there still exists the old quarters "Medinas" with windy streets wafting with all sorts of smells, donkeys, cats, and every item (touristy or vital to daily life) is available for a certain price. Although it isn't directly fueled by tourism, and we were surprisingly some of the few tourists in most of the areas we went, it's clear that the trickle down effect keeps things going. My favorite people to support were the little boys who would lead you through the impossibly navigable Medinas to the hotel or a touristic spot, extra tip if they carry along an umbrella or a ball to play soccer with. Of course, it was equally fun just wandering around and getting lost on our own, finding back alleys filled with beautiful jewelry or rugs, and at one point in Tangiers we stumbled upon the tomb of Ibn Batutta a famous Arab traveller of the 14th century and one of the founding fathers of Shisha. 

Although I thought that pretty much everyone spoke French, in the North it was more rare, and you need Spanish to get by, but it was a blast holding conversations in four languages; zigzagging my American footprint as much as possible.. Compared to Egypt where there is a cafe serving it on every street, finding Shisha was much more rare, and in fact it was made illegal, though we did find a sha3bee (folk/non touristy) place in Essauoira. I'm pretty sure I saw one of the waiters pay off the police as they drove by too. Hashish on the other hand is omnipresent, and these are the worst hustlers because if you respond to them they wont be able to comprehend why you actually aren't interested in buying anything from them. All that really worked in the end was saying that I had plenty and that usually kept the dealers at bey. The roads were actually very well kept, the routes were easy to follow, many lined with trees on each side or mileage markers, and the traffic laws were actually obeyed, almost annoyingly so, as most cars on the highway went under the speed limit. On the last day I got a speeding ticket for doing 74 km in a 60. In my defense there was no marking, and I had just come off driving up the Atlantic coast where it was 100 km, and was pulling it tight to return the car on time, but 400 Dhirams (50$) later and there were no worries... oops maybe that explains why everyone was going so slow. 

A couple more highlights:

Driving up from Rabat, we decided to get a peek at the Atlantic. There was a potholey paved road that took us to the Atlantic, but nothing more than a muddy road with lots of holes in it that took us North along the coast. Either way, off-roading was in the cards so we headed up a little bit with the attitude of not driving over the same route twice. There was an old fortress on a bluff over the Atlantic that looked like a mosque, with a gardien sitting out at the front of it and another parked car. We pushed open the door and in the windy drizzle found a circus school! 

Below is a street in Chefchaouen, a beautiful mountain town painted in light blue to keep away the flies.

Below is the courtyard of our Riad in Fes. As it was low season we could actually afford it... and living like kings for two days in this place was perfect to escape the windy rainy weather and bustling streets to relax. It also had one of the highest points in the Medina, and during prayer time I could hear the clear dissonance of prayers unobstructed from the noise below. They actually travelled from East to West in their starting times, and I was able to count about 12 mosques within a 1 km radius.

Fes was also cool because at night in the large square within the gates of the Medina there were several steps that were wide enough to hold a soccer match and basically on each step from the glow of the gates there was one going on. 

The drive from Fes to Marrakesch was also pretty epic. We started with trying to drive over the Middle Atlas mountains, and should have listened to a lady to whom we gave a ride (because we had asked her for directions and the route we wanted was on the way to her home...), but we made it all the way up to Ifrane, which is a mountain town where the King's palace is located, and then had to turn around because the snow had blocked the path. It felt like driving through Canada. So basically it turned the already long drive into a 9 hour day on the road and bombing back through the coast. 

Being in Essaouira was cool too. A sea town fortress with a hippy vibe and some amazing fish. Slow breaking waves a little bit North for some righteous surfing. 

In the end, I know I'm going to come back to Morocco one day inshallah.

Halas

Halas (pronounced more like Khalass) - that means, finished, that's enough, done! With the first term at least. Today was the last day, class party, and dressing up as a famous person from history.



I was Caesar.. and by coincidence so was one of my students.. None of the other children dressed up, but they were all happy to come out of uniform and bring savory egyptian sweets, along with pizza, burgers, milkshakes, juice, and ipod speakers to add to the party.

This last month has been durable, counting the days until the end of the term, continuing to learn Arabic, many nights spent playing domino, chess or backgammon with a shisha taba3an (of course) in one of the nearby coffee shops. And then there is always the occasional horseback ride by the pyramids. Since it's winter we can go during the day and don't have to wait for the full moon, but galloping in the sand while noticing these enormous structures built 5000 years ago has not lost its appeal.

The other day I was in Old Islamic Cairo with David and a friend who decided to go shop, so I went inside one of the old mosques there between prayer times. Al Azhar mosque, built in the 10th century, is a haven of peace from the hagglers in this area, beautifully intricate with design, and contains an aura of reverence and prayer. It's nice to imagine travelers who came 1000 years ago, and could sit in the exact same spot as I was and watch the birds fly high circles around the minarets. While sitting, someone approached me and offered me a free book about Mohammed, (admittedly Islam propoganda) and we had a great talk about religion, Obama, and Arabic. When he gave me the book he wrote in the inside cover, his address, his cellphone number, his phone number, and his email address, telling me that if I ever needed anything to call him. This wasn't so much of a move to convert me, but something decidedly Egyptian, and expression of over-generosity.


Yes, Egypt has grown on me, and is continuing to do so, but I will not miss it one bit. I'm leaving tomorrow for two weeks to Paris and then Morocco...

I am Israel...

… in the classroom. Well, let me put it this way; management in the class these days, especially with my homeroom class, 6 blue, is a bitch - almost to the point of neuroticism, and at a complete loss how to control them. Being an inexperienced teacher who makes plenty of first-year mistakes, and with all mid-year exams finished and a full week of school still left until break, the class climate has reached to a new level of disruption and at times, complete mayhem. Like constant side chatter, not following the rules in the hall, wrestling on the matt before class, stealing girls’ pencil cases and running around the room, singing in Arabic, blatant disregard for whatever I say when they don’t want to follow directions, and it goes on… Further, being inexperienced at showing them who is boss, I let them feel my powerful wrath in the form of ineffective shouting (although I try to limit this), and the occasional rash, and utterly punishing “warning letter.” The warning letter is a note from the school administration that is the most serious form of punishment that the school has to offer – a note sent home to the parents… Today my wrath came down two girls who were being blatantly rude, and leaving before I said it was time to go on the way down to the busses that would take them to their half-day exam. My warning came like this: “Nour, Nadine, I told you not to walk down the stairs before I go down…” (rude response) to “if you continue, you will get a warning letter.” (fine do it). So, knowing that I had to follow through on the threat, I handed them out letters when I had them again on 7th period when I had my class in the library. Like a group of innocent civilians who had just been doused with phosphorus from where a militant had launched a missile that landed in a goat field, the indignation of the two girls, and then by default, the entire class was sudden.
“But Mr. this is unfair, you did not give them any warning before this, you are supposed to have them write in the behavior book which does not even exist.” (true)
“This paper is all lies!” (possible).
“we misbehave all the time, why do they get one for simply walking down the stairs ahead of you?” (valid).
“But I said sorry after, when you were down in the lobby, and you accepted my apology” – Nour (weak argument, but true in the sense that she was under the impression her crime was absolved).
“The rest of the class walked down anyways after even when you told us to stay.” (true).
“Fine, we will no longer listen to you.” (ouch)
-and plenty of curses and insults to me in Arabic (which shows utter disrespect and is breaking a rule)
So effectively, I had made up the minds of most of these children that I was utterly cruel and unfair, and had declared a war. I could already picture in my head the level to which they were devising ways to be even more disastrous in the classroom. The problem was, from their behavior, they do deserve warning letters, their behavior merits it, but this overaggressive form was too punishing, and seen by all of them as utterly unfair. With five minutes left, I had the chance to speak to Nour and Nadine outside of the library in the courtyard. Slowly, as I was speaking to them, talking about their rude and disrespectful behavior, most of the class gathered round. In a move, that may well go down in the history books for six blue, I held both of the letters high, and ripped them, to a silent applause and an audible gasp of relief from Nour. I explained that this type of rude behavior and continuing disruption will not be tolerated and I apologized for this one time for what seemed unfair. I promised a system of fair and visible consequences (I’m making no excuses, but I have tried lots of things that have not worked). Who knows if the inner seeds of discontent will subside, but at least the visibility, and justness of punishment, will be prevalent, and it might have taken this shock and awe approach to get the point across. I don’t like bending back on my word, but it was worth it, at least to try to regain the respect and admiration of the rest of the class. And then there are those cherished moments, where I actually can feel like the kids are learning something because of what I taught.


The girls cheering on a football match ..

Looking at Palestine from Egyptian eyes

Palestine? 19 days now, over 1000 dead, 3000 wounded, infrastructure in shambles, and continued world inaction and tacit support from the United States for Israel. How does Egypt explain it to it’s children? Well during the assembly, the last period of the day, for the last fifteen minutes the history teacher (who is half Palestinian) spoke about Gaza to pay homage to the situation. First she fielded answers of what they knew anything about the Gaza, from accepting answers to “over 800 dead are women and children,” “Israel is only killing innocent civilians,” with an obvious lack of connection that Israel is targeting Hamas. The only mention that Hamas received was that it is part of Palestine, with the reason as to why Israel is attacking as, “well that is the problem.” The she went on to explain the history of the Jewish race in biblical terms, talking about Jakob and the Jewish people how they were persecuted everywhere they went, and then Moses and his trip across the Red Sea to the Holy Land. The brief history fast forwarded to Theodore Hertzl and the prospect of Zionism finding roots in either Palestine or Argentina and the Balfour Declaration giving the Jewish people a right to land in Palestine. “And our story continues from there...”
As an Egyptian child, the constructions in my mind would be inclined to simplify it this way: Israel is a country where a lot of Jewish people live who have claimed it on biblical terms and is deliberately killing Muslim women and children for no reason other than that these Muslims want their land back. And in the Arab world, this is no extreme. Nor is it a secret that my children hate Israel. I have seen kids in the hall pushing one another saying “Ana Misri inte Israel” “I’m Egyptian you are Israel,” or ask me if they could bring in a poster with Israel on it and stomp on it in class. Fair enough, it is hard to be objective in a land that tells you that you won the war when you pushed Israel back over the Bar-Lev line in 1973, and to have had the entire Sinai peninsula occupied for the purpose of Israel asserting itself in the Middle East, or to be a Muslim and see your religion in an ideological battle with the Jews. So will the next generation of Egyptian kids be traveling to Israel for a friendly football match? Vacation in Tel Aviv? And vice versa? The one-sidedness of all this can be expected, but it is upsetting that it will never change.

London!

On the 7th of January, Egypt celebrates Christmas, and I was able take advantage of these two days off plus the weekend to hop over to London. The timing was perfect. I finished work at school, and jumped off the bus right in front of the airport to catch my flight about an hour and a half later. Not only was it good to see my grandfather, my uncle, my aunt, and my cousins, but Michaela flew in to London literally two hours after my flight to live for the next six months on a work visa, and I was able to see a bunch of friends from camp. It was nice to do the typical Jospe things with her; philosophical and reminiscent conversations with my grandfather, enjoying dry martinis, long dinners, as well as taking advantage of being in London to see some museums, the Royal Gallery and Tate Modern, and buy some books. Then having the pleasure of orientating Michaela around London and soak in some of the essence of a clean, cold, European city (coming from Cairo it is a striking difference). Although I am fully enjoying this experience in a foreign land, it was a nice break to be able to ride public transportation where people are actually polite, and where one can hear English as the main language. At one point as I was waiting for the bus to go to my uncle’s there was some guy going on about how annoying it is of people who ask for money in the street. Maybe he was crazy, but he was harmless and just wanted to talk about this to someone, so we debated for a bit. Maybe I’m crazy, but not being able to fully communicate with strangers (when I want to) in Cairo bothers me, so I’ll do it when I can – part of my drive to learn Arabic inshallah.
We went out one night to meet up with Ville and Chi and some of their friends which ended up in a Karaoke place where you rent your own room and rock out with two mics, wigs, hats, and some tambourines. Then another night it was a Alex Moore’s birthday from my first year working at camp four years ago, and basically everyone who worked at camp and lives in London was there about 10 people. All these guys are “grown up,” but all legends who have come and gone at camp, and great to catch up with all of them. I landed back in Cairo, knowing that I would make good on the one month tourist Visa (and not get fined 153 pounds like I did on the way out for staying over) as for my midyear break I will meet up with Michaela in Paris and then go to Morocco!

New Years

I rang in New Years in Egypt in a restaurant over King Farouk stables with a group of Egyptian guys whom I met through Badr in Giza. It was fun to be the only foreigner “khawaga” with this group, in their 20s or so, and not much English spoken by them. It’s interesting how the dynamic of Arab friends works; in a way, I needed to poke fun at them to be more accepted, (like call someone gay) so then they could make fun of me, and then everyone is more comfortable with each other, but in the end everything is about not losing face and appearing to be the tougher guy. The restaurant didn’t serve beer, but let you bring your own, and keep the night going with Shisha, tea, and food. At one point I went to check out the horses with Badr, and got a kiss from one of them – I’m pretty sure I’m the only one of the group that night who got any action, because it was all guys, and the horse backed away when Badr when in for the kiss..

The next day I went to see some Christmas carols at a Christian rock band concert. It was warming to see everyone in their Christmas gear, and singing along to these Christmas carols in Arabic. It definitely gave me some of the Christmas spirit that up until this point has been lacking. It was cool to see people sing along to these carols as something they know well from their childhood, just like the songs I would know in English. The pastor went on to talk about things that sound only too familiar; the problems with commercialization of Christmas, and the need to come back to the importance of why we celebrate Jesus (ya3suuah).

On New years eve, we did have school that day, but it was a Christmas celebration. At first there was a talent show, where there were a bunch of songs and dances, and for pretty much every song I was playing either on the congas or the drums. No joke, I played drums for a bunch of German songs, then for the "school band" (which is about 10 guitarists, and the school music teacher), then with Samir (who comes in and plays Piano for the school) where we played a couple of Christmas songs, and then with the school music teacher where we played a couple latin songs. In retrospect, playing the Christmas songs with Samir on the assumption that the kids would just sing along because of course they knew the words, and we even handed out the lyrics to 20 or so, was a bad idea. We started out with jingle bells which everyone knows, but then there was dead silence to "Joy to the world," "we wish you a merry christmas" and "rudolf the rednosed raindeer." After the talent show, I got to dress up as Santa Claus. In a nutshell, I think the cultural difference between Egyptian four year olds and American four year olds is that when an American three year old sees someone dressed as Santa, he doesn't start to cry... Either way, I came on stage and entertained all of the KG's, giving some joyful "ho ho ho's" and handing out gifts to all the kids. I had pillows stuffed around me that kept on falling down, and it was pretty funny how I waddled about...

I’m really not one to do resolutions, but I have 3 inshallah.
-No more yelling in the class room. Zero. Sometimes I lose my temper at these kids, and I especially don’t like how the difference between yelling at them and being actually angry can become indistinguishable. Managing the classroom is a bitch, but I have never been an angry person, and don’t want to become one.
-Stay with learning five new words in Arabic a day. I’ve been getting lazy. Next year, I want to be back in Cairo studying Arabic. Just being with Badr and his friends makes me realize how badly I want to be fluent in this language, and I am ready to put in the work.
-Try cooking a new recipe at least once a week, and actually learn how to cook. Sadly, at this point, I have gotten into the groove of cooking the same three meals, and eating the cheap food on the street. Now is really the time. I can mess up as much as I like. I have no one here to impress, and there is a teacher in my staff room who is now giving me recipes and tips on cooking. She is like the Egyptian version of Paula Dean.