I passive aggressively ask him, "Do you really want that 2nd cigarette?" I immediately feel like a controlling friend who should let him do what he wants. He immediately puts the cigarette away, smiles and says, "Thanks for caring about me."
He asks, "you don't feel jealousy? Jealously shows how much one cares." (I've heard this argument on EVERY continent and EVERY country visited!) I respond that people are independent and can make their own decisions. I trust my friends.
Cultural interpreations.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Health Update
So in my post about finding medical attention in Egypt, I mentioned that it was suggested to me by an Egyptian doctor that Egyptian medical practioners grossly over prescribe. Well, a friend coming back from Dubai this week informed us that the Egyptian government, in efforts to curb the further spread of H1N1, is now handing out doxycycline, an antibiotic (one used to prevent malaria as also noted in a previous post), to all international travelers entering Egypt. The official upon quesitoning said it was just tylenol.
WHAT? Unprescribed antibiotics handed to everyone in the international terminal?...don't know where to start...
Btw, my health is back in tact, alhumdililah!
I found it quite a miracle how efficient the health care system is in Egypt considering its lack of organizaiton and efficiency in other daily tasks. Furthermore I cannot express how amazing it is to live in a society where insurance works. I had to 2 urine analysis, a urine culture, and a full gynecological exam and didn't open my wallet!! Eventually I asked the doctor at AUC if I need to pay and he said, "you paid your semester medical fee of $85, right? then you've already paid for everything." WOW! $85 all inclusive!
The most memorable moment of it all is when this supposedly super famous gynocologist who's so aged that I wonder if his 'crystalized" eyes can actually examen me says, "you know you are in Egypt? You've heard of 100% egyptian cotton? from now on, 100% egyptian cotton panties." (sorry if thats too personal but I thought it was hilarious considering the circumstances!) Even me with my phobia of medical things can say that the medical services in Egypt are worth a visit! Just take prescriptions with grain of salt.
WHAT? Unprescribed antibiotics handed to everyone in the international terminal?...don't know where to start...
Btw, my health is back in tact, alhumdililah!
I found it quite a miracle how efficient the health care system is in Egypt considering its lack of organizaiton and efficiency in other daily tasks. Furthermore I cannot express how amazing it is to live in a society where insurance works. I had to 2 urine analysis, a urine culture, and a full gynecological exam and didn't open my wallet!! Eventually I asked the doctor at AUC if I need to pay and he said, "you paid your semester medical fee of $85, right? then you've already paid for everything." WOW! $85 all inclusive!
The most memorable moment of it all is when this supposedly super famous gynocologist who's so aged that I wonder if his 'crystalized" eyes can actually examen me says, "you know you are in Egypt? You've heard of 100% egyptian cotton? from now on, 100% egyptian cotton panties." (sorry if thats too personal but I thought it was hilarious considering the circumstances!) Even me with my phobia of medical things can say that the medical services in Egypt are worth a visit! Just take prescriptions with grain of salt.
Thanksgiving!
As we all know, Thanksgiving is a purely American holiday (except for Canadian Thanksgiving, of course.) However, it goes without saying that where there are Americans, there will be Thanksgiving!
This year I was blessed to spend a meal and the
day with my new "family" from my MA program and their special friends. We were gonna cook but frankly, there were too many for our student budgets. So we decided to go to the American diner in town that served the classic
Thanksgiving meal.These are the lovely girls that make up my new family. Truly don't know what I'd do without them!
The full group of Thanksgivingers! For a couple of people in the group it was the first Thanksgiving!
We ended back up at Danielle's flat for pumpkin pie and homeworkless chillin. Someone tried to insert Christmas decorations and even Christmas carols....but that will have to wait for a new post!Happy Thanksgiving!!
remaking RLAP
They say that feelings of claustrophobia are common among victims of traumatic situations. Well, claustrophobia also limits those that serve victims of traumatic situations.
Stress is a common visitor at the Refugee Clinic and it showed itself in numerous fashions depending on numerous factors: how many people could crowd into the office, the bathroom drain overflowing, UNHCR unjustly denying another refugee claim, and constantly disappearing pencils. Well, finally it got to be too much.
Enviornment plays a large role in the way people feel and act. Like most non-profit, social service agencies, at RLAP we do the best we can with what we are given. Well, to put it diplomatically, the physcial space at RLAP was not the most comfortable. As you can see in the picture, one could easily confuse our legal aid office for a psychotic day care to the point where the backs of chairs became wall decorations as they fell apart, one by one.
Some things in life we must deal with...other things we can change. This office needed a makeover-- urgently and seriously. So that's exactly what we did. Once again we learned that you can't lose anything by asking! So, in a weekend a team of legal advocates turned painters (I purposefully omit the adjective "professional"). See our progress!
Stress is a common visitor at the Refugee Clinic and it showed itself in numerous fashions depending on numerous factors: how many people could crowd into the office, the bathroom drain overflowing, UNHCR unjustly denying another refugee claim, and constantly disappearing pencils. Well, finally it got to be too much.
Enviornment plays a large role in the way people feel and act. Like most non-profit, social service agencies, at RLAP we do the best we can with what we are given. Well, to put it diplomatically, the physcial space at RLAP was not the most comfortable. As you can see in the picture, one could easily confuse our legal aid office for a psychotic day care to the point where the backs of chairs became wall decorations as they fell apart, one by one.Some things in life we must deal with...other things we can change. This office needed a makeover-- urgently and seriously. So that's exactly what we did. Once again we learned that you can't lose anything by asking! So, in a weekend a team of legal advocates turned painters (I purposefully omit the adjective "professional"). See our progress!
Change, one door frame and one refugee case at a time!
It was an interesting weekend as "US" painting styles, mostly learned by painting dorm rooms, met Iraqi painting techniques as prefered by civil and technology engineers. I can't report that the expertise of engineers dominated the system but it was a good lesson of working together and seeing new ways of doing things.
In Egypt, you don't waste time w/ paint samples, you mix your own shade! Ahmed, Leticia and I work out the perfect pistacchio green!
This used to be that horrid, overstimulating blue room (see 1 picture). Now, Kate calmly and proudly interviews her clients in our "new" office.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
more readin'
Hi;
I know that recently my posts have become more scarce. I don't want to leave you hanging so check out the blog from the refugee clinic where I volunteer. http://starsrefuge.wordpress.com/
I know that recently my posts have become more scarce. I don't want to leave you hanging so check out the blog from the refugee clinic where I volunteer. http://starsrefuge.wordpress.com/
Monday, November 9, 2009
Dr visit in Cairo....
So I seem to have come down with a slight infection-- no, not swine though the stigma remains. Going/finding a Dr in a foreign country is always...an experience...
I'm not one to voluntarily visit Drs.--however, I've been told that in Cairo its much better to visit a Dr than a hosptial, so why risk getting worse?
A few days after the onset of symptoms I decided I must do the responsible thing and postpone my start time at work to see a Dr. I arrived at the AUC-Downtown clinic and was told to wait until the female doctor was available, because of course I could not speak with a male medical professional.
With no one in the waiting room- 20 minutes later it was my turn. I saw the female dr and told her my syptoms. Without any examination or further questions, she wrote down 4 different medications: topical, internal etc...Surprised by her quick determination and trust in my not-medically trained hypothesis that was only based on basic internet search, I was a bit skeptical to say the least. I asked what other syptoms I should look out for and how could I have contracted this? She assured me it was from using restrooms outside of my house and watch out because its the first signs of diabetes! HA! (really, its nothing serious...)
At that, I pleasantly smiled, thanked her for the time, collected my things and walked out the door. I threw the prescriptions away on my way out of the lobby.
4 days later, I visited the clinic on New Campus. There was only a male doctor-- uh oh! I insisted on seeing him-- even tho it was a rather female based issue. I figured, if he works at AUC, meets many Westerners and is a medical professional- he WILL handle my case. This is a medical issue- not cultural. So I walked into his office and as point blank as possible told him all of my female issues. He handled the issues well- but perhaps was taken aback by my frankness. Either way-- he told me I needed some lab work and prescribed a basic antibiotic- I later confirmed that it was a conventional antibiotic. good start.
3 days later at 9 am I took the risk that anything in Cairo is open before 10am and attempted to find the lab-- 49 Nubar St, supposedly right by my apt building. Well....20 is next to 13, next to 41...the other side of the street is also "specially numbered." I had forgotten my phrase book at home so, w/ my lack of Arabic I finally mime my way to 49 Nubar. I now have 20 minutes to pee in a cup and get to work... I realize I have no idea how to say "lab" in Arabic, I'm completely illiterate in Arabic and all signs are in only Arabic. I attempt to mime "lab" or "Dr" to the doorman (if you can think of a way to mime that to an uneducated man please tell me.) He told me 12th floor. Didn't help- still can't read Arabic of the closed doors. Try again- this time 4rd floor--- same. Next he asks if I'm married.
I walk away almost late to work, frustrated by my lack of Arabic, hating feeling like I need someone to help w/ a basic task in life, my schedule is too full to waste this time and don't get me started on Egyptian men.
I get to work and good ol Ahmed writes "lab" in Arabic for me.
One week later (infection still present- but not growing- I hope!) I make time to find another reccommeded lab. 1 Talat-Harb St. I arrive and am told its about "5 min walk down Tahrir St" I ask myself: 5 min Egyptian woman pace, or crazy American woman pace...I walk. I arrive and am told its on Nubar St. aw heck no...I go to work.
3 days later (so now I'm 2.5wks after initial symptoms)- I realize I'm being stupid and irresponsible and am determined to find this lab. Another Arabic speaking friend calls the lab, gets the address and hours of operation, writes it on a piece of paper and I'm on a mission! I meet the same doorman who proposed a week early- show him the piece of paper and he motions to the 3rd floor. I find it-- one block from my house is the lab!
Tom and Jerry is playing on the TV. The Egyptian man sitting next to me laughs at me everytime I laugh at Tom and that poor dog. Finally, I get to pee in a cup! Of course, there is no water to flush the toilet or to wash my hands in this medical lab but the secretary says, "nooo problem! water finished"....whatever, mission accomplished! now, when my results will be in...who knows?!
Random tidbit I learned while chatting w/ an Egyptian Dr in the gym locker room:
Egyptian Drs always WAAY overprescribe. There is a belief in Egypt that the Dr does not do his/her job w/o prescibing a medication. Thus at least one prescription is written at every apt. For this reason, obviously, there is a high resistance rate to antibodies...hum, a bit of Egyptian medical-cultural knowledge!
Also, she got very uncomfortable when I started to undress- in the female lockeroom! She walked out of the room to let me have my privacy...a doctor. a female locker room. we're both females...hum.
I'm not one to voluntarily visit Drs.--however, I've been told that in Cairo its much better to visit a Dr than a hosptial, so why risk getting worse?
A few days after the onset of symptoms I decided I must do the responsible thing and postpone my start time at work to see a Dr. I arrived at the AUC-Downtown clinic and was told to wait until the female doctor was available, because of course I could not speak with a male medical professional.
With no one in the waiting room- 20 minutes later it was my turn. I saw the female dr and told her my syptoms. Without any examination or further questions, she wrote down 4 different medications: topical, internal etc...Surprised by her quick determination and trust in my not-medically trained hypothesis that was only based on basic internet search, I was a bit skeptical to say the least. I asked what other syptoms I should look out for and how could I have contracted this? She assured me it was from using restrooms outside of my house and watch out because its the first signs of diabetes! HA! (really, its nothing serious...)
At that, I pleasantly smiled, thanked her for the time, collected my things and walked out the door. I threw the prescriptions away on my way out of the lobby.
4 days later, I visited the clinic on New Campus. There was only a male doctor-- uh oh! I insisted on seeing him-- even tho it was a rather female based issue. I figured, if he works at AUC, meets many Westerners and is a medical professional- he WILL handle my case. This is a medical issue- not cultural. So I walked into his office and as point blank as possible told him all of my female issues. He handled the issues well- but perhaps was taken aback by my frankness. Either way-- he told me I needed some lab work and prescribed a basic antibiotic- I later confirmed that it was a conventional antibiotic. good start.
3 days later at 9 am I took the risk that anything in Cairo is open before 10am and attempted to find the lab-- 49 Nubar St, supposedly right by my apt building. Well....20 is next to 13, next to 41...the other side of the street is also "specially numbered." I had forgotten my phrase book at home so, w/ my lack of Arabic I finally mime my way to 49 Nubar. I now have 20 minutes to pee in a cup and get to work... I realize I have no idea how to say "lab" in Arabic, I'm completely illiterate in Arabic and all signs are in only Arabic. I attempt to mime "lab" or "Dr" to the doorman (if you can think of a way to mime that to an uneducated man please tell me.) He told me 12th floor. Didn't help- still can't read Arabic of the closed doors. Try again- this time 4rd floor--- same. Next he asks if I'm married.
I walk away almost late to work, frustrated by my lack of Arabic, hating feeling like I need someone to help w/ a basic task in life, my schedule is too full to waste this time and don't get me started on Egyptian men.
I get to work and good ol Ahmed writes "lab" in Arabic for me.
One week later (infection still present- but not growing- I hope!) I make time to find another reccommeded lab. 1 Talat-Harb St. I arrive and am told its about "5 min walk down Tahrir St" I ask myself: 5 min Egyptian woman pace, or crazy American woman pace...I walk. I arrive and am told its on Nubar St. aw heck no...I go to work.
3 days later (so now I'm 2.5wks after initial symptoms)- I realize I'm being stupid and irresponsible and am determined to find this lab. Another Arabic speaking friend calls the lab, gets the address and hours of operation, writes it on a piece of paper and I'm on a mission! I meet the same doorman who proposed a week early- show him the piece of paper and he motions to the 3rd floor. I find it-- one block from my house is the lab!
Tom and Jerry is playing on the TV. The Egyptian man sitting next to me laughs at me everytime I laugh at Tom and that poor dog. Finally, I get to pee in a cup! Of course, there is no water to flush the toilet or to wash my hands in this medical lab but the secretary says, "nooo problem! water finished"....whatever, mission accomplished! now, when my results will be in...who knows?!
Random tidbit I learned while chatting w/ an Egyptian Dr in the gym locker room:
Egyptian Drs always WAAY overprescribe. There is a belief in Egypt that the Dr does not do his/her job w/o prescibing a medication. Thus at least one prescription is written at every apt. For this reason, obviously, there is a high resistance rate to antibodies...hum, a bit of Egyptian medical-cultural knowledge!
Also, she got very uncomfortable when I started to undress- in the female lockeroom! She walked out of the room to let me have my privacy...a doctor. a female locker room. we're both females...hum.
eieiei, life
To my devoted readers, I apologize for the gap in posts however grad school has officially consumed my life. I too have felt the absence of posting- thus I will do my best to continue with more regularity...then again, who doesn't like a surprise- and paitence is a virtue! :)
Friday, October 30, 2009
weather
It came to my attention this week that I haven't checked a weather report in more than 2 months...
Hailing from the mid-west where we can have four seasons in one day, its nice to know today warm. Tomorrow, warm. Saturday, warm.
Chicago: chilly in morn. Cloudly mid-morning. Shed the jacket and enjoy the sun and humidity on the way out of the office. Snow by dinner...
Cairo: warm and polluted.
Hailing from the mid-west where we can have four seasons in one day, its nice to know today warm. Tomorrow, warm. Saturday, warm.
Chicago: chilly in morn. Cloudly mid-morning. Shed the jacket and enjoy the sun and humidity on the way out of the office. Snow by dinner...
Cairo: warm and polluted.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
mornin'
In the corner of the mint green “office” the little curly haired boy’s smile barely showed over the edge of the table. He was happy to have attention and to be drawing with his Dad. His Dad drew a simple airplane with a straight face obviously not knowing how or what to do with emotions. The baby girl tearlessly wimpered on her mother’s lap as a robe prohibited access to her only source of food. The mother briefly mentioned to the interpreter, an Egyptian girl who grew up in Jersey and was struggling through Sudanese Arabic this early in the morning at 10am, that she was raped once but “weirdly” tortured by the guards. Oddly enough, I would like a banana...
Friday, October 16, 2009
Meet Ahmed.
I would like to take a moment and pay tribute to a new and wonderful person in my life named Ahmed. Ahmed is the "office manager" in the Legal Department at the Refugee Clinic where I volunteer. I have strong reason to believe that he, his wife and son are refugees from Iraq who are now rather established in Cairo. Over this past week, in particular, I've had numerous opportunities to personally interact and benefit from Ahmeds', kind-hearted, thorough, paitent yet just ways of dealing with everybody comes to or calls the office. From these experiences, I'm inspired that it really is the "low guy" on the totom pole that can make the world so wonderful. He has no idea I'm writing this.
Ahmed coordinates the schedules of approx 10 interns, one manager, one Dr and all volunteer interpreters, like its as easy as eating a small ice cream cone. I've rarely seen someone, and a man especially!, multi-task with such efficiency and a warm smile.
Example 1: Early in the week, an interpreter was urgently called onto another case, thus leaving me and my client awkwardly staring at each other with no place to go. Without hesitation, Ahmed just moved the phone to our table (to monitor it) and assumed the role of interpreter. Working with interpreters can be a challenge due to trust issues in the form of the questions being properly translated, the complete answer coming back etc. If you've played the game "Telephone" you get an idea of the instability.
With Ahmed, it was seemless and he immediately instilled trust and confidence in me, the advocate, and the client, a mentally abused Iraqi refugee. On top of it all, he caught small cultural elements and suggested things that I never would have caught onto. For example, the client mentioned that his torturers spoke Arabic but with a certain accent/dialect. Ahmed directly translated this to me, then gently added, "Members of Al-qaeda are generally known to speak in that accent and they've also been known to occupy that area of Iraq. Would you like me to ask if he thinks his captors where specifically members of Al-qaeda?" I have no idea the details between militia groups, Al-queda, government insurgencies etc. He was so respectful and gentle in his questioning and I was really bummed when another inpterpeter came to relieve him of his duties.
Example #2. It was 11:15am and my client who was supposed to arrive at 10am called to say he was just 5 mins away. In the States, I would have said, "Nope, sorry. Too late. You'll have to wait for another appointment." They would never be 1.5 late for an appt to the UNHCR, they won't be for me either. In addition, its their case; if they don't really care about it I have other things to do too.
Well, in Egypt, as many other countires, time is MUCH, MUCH more flexible. So, Ahmed comes in and tells me the situation. I'm trying to be culturally sensitve but I also have class in 2 hours and have scheduled my time...Its a follow-up appointment and I do have some specific info I need from him. I explain this connundrum to Ahmed and he pats my shoulder and says no prob. He will give the client the remaining 10 min of his original appointment time and then he needs to leave and wait for another appointment. Ahmed very much agrees with me in that the client must respect time; our, his and in general. He explains the situation to the client (man-man, Iraqi-Iraqi, in Arabic which works better than me: young, female with interpreter) and everybody is happy.
This week we also established "our secret" connection-- we're both play the violin! His brother is actually the head conductor in Jordan and regularly performs for the King/Queen of Jordan! So we've talked about music and orchestra all week and in those rare moments in the early morning when its just the two of us in the office, he hums or sings his favorite concertos to me! Don't tell him I told you this!
In between all of this scheduling, interpreting, phone answering, smiling, he takes apart and repairs the small fan that makes everybody so much more comfortable! So here's to that quiet guy, who: takes care of that one extra phone call as you run out of the office, does everything that doesn't fall under anybody elses job description, makes the coffee in the morning, who's smile can bring your stress down 5 notches because its comfortable and really makes the office run though nobody fully recognizes it as they run past him. Here's to Ahmed!
Ahmed coordinates the schedules of approx 10 interns, one manager, one Dr and all volunteer interpreters, like its as easy as eating a small ice cream cone. I've rarely seen someone, and a man especially!, multi-task with such efficiency and a warm smile.
Example 1: Early in the week, an interpreter was urgently called onto another case, thus leaving me and my client awkwardly staring at each other with no place to go. Without hesitation, Ahmed just moved the phone to our table (to monitor it) and assumed the role of interpreter. Working with interpreters can be a challenge due to trust issues in the form of the questions being properly translated, the complete answer coming back etc. If you've played the game "Telephone" you get an idea of the instability.
With Ahmed, it was seemless and he immediately instilled trust and confidence in me, the advocate, and the client, a mentally abused Iraqi refugee. On top of it all, he caught small cultural elements and suggested things that I never would have caught onto. For example, the client mentioned that his torturers spoke Arabic but with a certain accent/dialect. Ahmed directly translated this to me, then gently added, "Members of Al-qaeda are generally known to speak in that accent and they've also been known to occupy that area of Iraq. Would you like me to ask if he thinks his captors where specifically members of Al-qaeda?" I have no idea the details between militia groups, Al-queda, government insurgencies etc. He was so respectful and gentle in his questioning and I was really bummed when another inpterpeter came to relieve him of his duties.
Example #2. It was 11:15am and my client who was supposed to arrive at 10am called to say he was just 5 mins away. In the States, I would have said, "Nope, sorry. Too late. You'll have to wait for another appointment." They would never be 1.5 late for an appt to the UNHCR, they won't be for me either. In addition, its their case; if they don't really care about it I have other things to do too.
Well, in Egypt, as many other countires, time is MUCH, MUCH more flexible. So, Ahmed comes in and tells me the situation. I'm trying to be culturally sensitve but I also have class in 2 hours and have scheduled my time...Its a follow-up appointment and I do have some specific info I need from him. I explain this connundrum to Ahmed and he pats my shoulder and says no prob. He will give the client the remaining 10 min of his original appointment time and then he needs to leave and wait for another appointment. Ahmed very much agrees with me in that the client must respect time; our, his and in general. He explains the situation to the client (man-man, Iraqi-Iraqi, in Arabic which works better than me: young, female with interpreter) and everybody is happy.
This week we also established "our secret" connection-- we're both play the violin! His brother is actually the head conductor in Jordan and regularly performs for the King/Queen of Jordan! So we've talked about music and orchestra all week and in those rare moments in the early morning when its just the two of us in the office, he hums or sings his favorite concertos to me! Don't tell him I told you this!
In between all of this scheduling, interpreting, phone answering, smiling, he takes apart and repairs the small fan that makes everybody so much more comfortable! So here's to that quiet guy, who: takes care of that one extra phone call as you run out of the office, does everything that doesn't fall under anybody elses job description, makes the coffee in the morning, who's smile can bring your stress down 5 notches because its comfortable and really makes the office run though nobody fully recognizes it as they run past him. Here's to Ahmed!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
urgh...
My client's final statement: “I am asking that UNHCR please protect me”
UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees; UN's agency for refugees)? Protect a person?
Large governmental institution + individual that’s been seriously shit on his entire life...can there really be a relationship?
Why must a person, a human being, get to this point that he must turn to a soulless, bureaucratic agency to save his life? Perhaps give him a life?
He has no idea where his family is- perhaps, never will again. He is heartlessly ridiculed for the way his tongue makes words even though they are the same words that others say with a different accent. He is tortured because he was born to his parents, of his particular tone of skin, he has been runnig for 15+ years…
Why/how can people be so stupid and cruel to treat others this way that force him to run…and turn to…the UNHCR?
I should be grateful that such an institutional organization and world collaboration exists, but right now, I cannot.
WTF?
UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees; UN's agency for refugees)? Protect a person?
Large governmental institution + individual that’s been seriously shit on his entire life...can there really be a relationship?
Why must a person, a human being, get to this point that he must turn to a soulless, bureaucratic agency to save his life? Perhaps give him a life?
He has no idea where his family is- perhaps, never will again. He is heartlessly ridiculed for the way his tongue makes words even though they are the same words that others say with a different accent. He is tortured because he was born to his parents, of his particular tone of skin, he has been runnig for 15+ years…
Why/how can people be so stupid and cruel to treat others this way that force him to run…and turn to…the UNHCR?
I should be grateful that such an institutional organization and world collaboration exists, but right now, I cannot.
WTF?
Sunday, October 11, 2009
FIFA in Egypt
THe U-20 (under 20) World Cup is currently being played in Egypt!! My friend and I took advantage of the siutation and attended a game yesterday-- but not, Egypt or US-- Brazil, of course!
"Futball" stadium in Cairo. Really the stadium was quite empty but they gave away a lot of seats to soliders to make it look as if lots of people were there. Thus, this was the only full section- besides the "Brazilian" section!
GOL! Finally, Brazil got in the game and gave us something to cheer about. Chants in Arabic and Portugese continued strong through the second half and overtime. Once it got started it didn't stop until Germany went home crying! "eu sou brasiliera....muito orgulho....muito amor...":)~
After 1 overtime session, they went home crying! Love Brazilian football!
2-1 and Brazil advances....
Work experience
Last week at work I had my first victim of torture. We were to spend a couple of hours documenting his testimony and case for resettlement. We started off gently and after explaining what we were to do, I assured him that I understand that these questions might be very difficult, and we can stop or take a break at any time.
We start the process and the story is builiding. He's captured, beaten, then we reach the first instance of torture. He starts to explain it to me, then starts to point at affected areas of his body-- his mutilated finger in particular. I continue to type the story and...blackout. What the heck was I thinking?! I have a severe phobia of medical things, I can't talk about phyical torture!
The interpreter and my client help me to the bathroom where I work to re-compose myself. I guess I should take my own advice of taking any necessary breaks.
That afternoon I told my boss that I can't do anymore torture cases. So, my next case is a former child solider...
I guess I can't complain that I'm getting such great field work experience right off the bat and can really start to determine my niche-- or areas to avoid- in the field!
We start the process and the story is builiding. He's captured, beaten, then we reach the first instance of torture. He starts to explain it to me, then starts to point at affected areas of his body-- his mutilated finger in particular. I continue to type the story and...blackout. What the heck was I thinking?! I have a severe phobia of medical things, I can't talk about phyical torture!
The interpreter and my client help me to the bathroom where I work to re-compose myself. I guess I should take my own advice of taking any necessary breaks.
That afternoon I told my boss that I can't do anymore torture cases. So, my next case is a former child solider...
I guess I can't complain that I'm getting such great field work experience right off the bat and can really start to determine my niche-- or areas to avoid- in the field!
back to school, finally
So the swine flu recess is finally ended and we're back in classes! It was great to have some human discussion again, after 2wks of electronic discussion and it was much appreciated to actually discover what the profs expected and their teaching styles.
My Wed night class is "Intro to Human Rights and Humanitarian Law" and taught by an attorney from the US who is also currently head of the dept. She stresses that the field of law is based on authority. At this point in our careers, we most likely have no original thoughts and everything must be cited/quoted from the original source with a clear structure of argument. It goes something like this: "David Kennedy, on page 18 paragraph 3 of his 2002 article states that....Rosenblum on pg 4 argues that....I, therefore, question the motives of x, y, z." The discussion continues with a directly challenge with equally assertive vocabularly and well-founded examples. Its intense, requires a lot of prep work and a relatively strong sense of security or the ability to B.S.
Thursday night, I have a class that counts toward my diploma program entitled: Systems Approaches in Psychology. The students comprise of people from the MA program in family and children pyschology, Forced Migration and Refugees Studies (CMRS) and me from International Human Rights Law (IHRL). The tables in the classroom form a large square to faciliatate discussion (and I'm sure to discourage the socratic method that the pyschology dept does not embrace). As it happens the 5 pyschologists sat on on one side of the square, the 5 from CMRS sat on the opposite side and I, from IHRL sat at one end. Segregated by depts, we could have played dept Family Feud! My legal training and background became very clear when the prof responded to a student by gently saying, "Well, I don't want to argue you, but I see it a slightly different way...." and my head reared up from my notebook w/ a questioning look. I was stunned that a prof didn't want to challenge or argue!
So, I go from, "I am right. You are wrong. And I can prove it with x, y, q and z." to "I feel that...and we can't neglect the emotional needs of ..." As an new attorney friend put it, "Thats what you get for trying to personify law!" It's gonna be a fun semester!
My Wed night class is "Intro to Human Rights and Humanitarian Law" and taught by an attorney from the US who is also currently head of the dept. She stresses that the field of law is based on authority. At this point in our careers, we most likely have no original thoughts and everything must be cited/quoted from the original source with a clear structure of argument. It goes something like this: "David Kennedy, on page 18 paragraph 3 of his 2002 article states that....Rosenblum on pg 4 argues that....I, therefore, question the motives of x, y, z." The discussion continues with a directly challenge with equally assertive vocabularly and well-founded examples. Its intense, requires a lot of prep work and a relatively strong sense of security or the ability to B.S.
Thursday night, I have a class that counts toward my diploma program entitled: Systems Approaches in Psychology. The students comprise of people from the MA program in family and children pyschology, Forced Migration and Refugees Studies (CMRS) and me from International Human Rights Law (IHRL). The tables in the classroom form a large square to faciliatate discussion (and I'm sure to discourage the socratic method that the pyschology dept does not embrace). As it happens the 5 pyschologists sat on on one side of the square, the 5 from CMRS sat on the opposite side and I, from IHRL sat at one end. Segregated by depts, we could have played dept Family Feud! My legal training and background became very clear when the prof responded to a student by gently saying, "Well, I don't want to argue you, but I see it a slightly different way...." and my head reared up from my notebook w/ a questioning look. I was stunned that a prof didn't want to challenge or argue!
So, I go from, "I am right. You are wrong. And I can prove it with x, y, q and z." to "I feel that...and we can't neglect the emotional needs of ..." As an new attorney friend put it, "Thats what you get for trying to personify law!" It's gonna be a fun semester!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Jim and Amanda...not together, of course.
So, of course, the day after I disclosed my new friendship w/ Jim via this blog, he gets daring and leaves the kitchen. We came home that night and he was chillin on the wall and, of course, Amanda saw him first...
his new- and permanent- home is outside.
Amanda, my roommate, is smiling too!
This is her "traditional" niqaab (veil), abaya (robe). She doesn't really wear it out...at least not yet!
who's asking questions now...
Today my first appointment at the refugee clinic started as normal.
Me: "So, did you ever work directly or indirectly w/ American forces/comapanies in Iraq?"
Iraqi: "Yes."
Me: "Under what circumstances?"
Iraqi: "I was part of the Iraqi Police special forces, Anti-Terrorist dept in Baghad..."
Holymoly, what I am doing asking questions to him?! Half way through I did have to humble myself and verbalize my nerves by asking him please not to judge my interrogation style. Luckily, he was a smiley guy and said, "No prob. I know what you want and where you're going..."
phew.
Me: "So, did you ever work directly or indirectly w/ American forces/comapanies in Iraq?"
Iraqi: "Yes."
Me: "Under what circumstances?"
Iraqi: "I was part of the Iraqi Police special forces, Anti-Terrorist dept in Baghad..."
Holymoly, what I am doing asking questions to him?! Half way through I did have to humble myself and verbalize my nerves by asking him please not to judge my interrogation style. Luckily, he was a smiley guy and said, "No prob. I know what you want and where you're going..."
phew.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
reflections on lecture 1
Tonight I attended a lecture given by an Egyptian Human Rights lawyer who has worked with refugees and Internally Displaced Peoples (IDPs) from Darfur for the past 9 years. (In case you care, in super simple terms: a refugee is a person seeking refugee who has crossed an international border whereas an IDP is someone who has been forced to relocate but within the same country (i.e.: people from New Orleans that relocated to Chicago after Hurricane Katrina are IDPs)).
It’s situations like these that make me feel truly naïve to what is currently, in the very moment that I’m writing, happening to human beings in the world and more so, to what atrocities “human beings” are capable of committing.
Genocide is happening today- in Darfur, Sudan. (And in case you didn’t know, Sudan is the country south of Egypt.) But it’s more than genocide. For example, women in supposedly protected camps are getting raped as they go to the bathroom. They started asking for a brother/husband/son to accompany them, but that just led to a killed brother/husband/son and a raped women. Not worth it, to some. If they desire to prosecute 1) there are unreasonable court fees, which no one has and 2) if the accused is not convicted then the woman risks flogging for infidelity. That’s ONE injustice besides genocide.
March of this year, 13 International Aid agencies were kicked out of Darfur…thus IDPs are grossly increasing and aid is grossly decreasing…
I’ll stop here but if you want to read more the International Refugee Committee, (www.irc.org) in particular has done some great work on the ‘situation.’
The stories he told were almost incredible, but what really struck me was to be able to listen to a man who has dedicated (conscientiously or not) to getting on the inside and serving these people. He has learned and continues to learn how to maneuver systems based in corruption and vile hatred. He risks his life for justice because as he said, “peace does not exist without justice.”
I must say it really re-affirmed what I am doing in Cairo, it adds a lot of fuel to my fire to learn and be able to fight and simultaneously intimidates me about how much I have to learn…
It’s situations like these that make me feel truly naïve to what is currently, in the very moment that I’m writing, happening to human beings in the world and more so, to what atrocities “human beings” are capable of committing.
Genocide is happening today- in Darfur, Sudan. (And in case you didn’t know, Sudan is the country south of Egypt.) But it’s more than genocide. For example, women in supposedly protected camps are getting raped as they go to the bathroom. They started asking for a brother/husband/son to accompany them, but that just led to a killed brother/husband/son and a raped women. Not worth it, to some. If they desire to prosecute 1) there are unreasonable court fees, which no one has and 2) if the accused is not convicted then the woman risks flogging for infidelity. That’s ONE injustice besides genocide.
March of this year, 13 International Aid agencies were kicked out of Darfur…thus IDPs are grossly increasing and aid is grossly decreasing…
I’ll stop here but if you want to read more the International Refugee Committee, (www.irc.org) in particular has done some great work on the ‘situation.’
The stories he told were almost incredible, but what really struck me was to be able to listen to a man who has dedicated (conscientiously or not) to getting on the inside and serving these people. He has learned and continues to learn how to maneuver systems based in corruption and vile hatred. He risks his life for justice because as he said, “peace does not exist without justice.”
I must say it really re-affirmed what I am doing in Cairo, it adds a lot of fuel to my fire to learn and be able to fight and simultaneously intimidates me about how much I have to learn…
wines about swine...
Today I arrived to library on a wave of rumors that class is to be cancelled until Oct 3 due to H1N1 (aka: Swine Flu.) In about 15 minutes the rumor was confirmed by an official email from the VP of some important position that upon mandate by the Egyptian government all classes are cancelled until Oct 3rd.
There were 3 confirmed cases in a dorm over the summer, which of course caused a lot of hype. Additionally, earlier in the spring, Egypt killed all of its pigs which apparently resulted in a nasty, stinky garbage problem. All other universities and most schools have been closed, buts that has largely been accepted as an excuse to not go back to school until after Ramadan. There are no current, confirmed cases of H1N1.
I have noticed, more than once, when I enter a metro car women quickly gather their children to create as much distance as possible between them and I. The children proceed to cover their mouth and nose until I leave the car. It is generally the more traditional women, who don the full black robe and veil, thus I had tossed it up to a possibilities of many fears of the unknown. Just recently I began to fully understand the true basis of their fears. I have definitely felt discrimination and the feelings of being the minority but this is my first experience with stigmatization.
On the other hand, I have had many rebellious urges to use the “fear” in my favor. Men on the streets of Cairo could be amusing if they weren’t so annoying (a blog completely devoted to these frustrations is in the works!) A couple times in passing their rude/uneducated/appalling comments I have so greatly desired to give a hacking cough while clutching my chest. Then quickly turn w/ an innocent smile and extended hand to say, “hola, me llamo Maria. I come from Mexico (one of the countries w/ highest concentration of H1N1). Will you pleeeaase marry me?” Oh my, I can’t imagine what they would do!….but not yet fully understanding what it means to live in a police state where with a population of 18mil and 3+mil are employed by the Secret Police and still no grasp of any useful Arabic, my urges turn to a smart smirk hidden as I tuck my head and quietly pass them.
So you know you’re in grad school when people are upset that classes are cancelled. But have no fear! Time will not be completely wasted because the library, where the majority of the student body hangs out to use the computer lab is still open. The food court, where I’m sure the food and cleanliness standards are completely standardized, is still open. The gym, where there are no towels, sanitary wipes or soap for the patrons or the machines, is still open. And me, in the meantime, will continue to read. This week’s article, the Roles of International Organizations: WHO!
There were 3 confirmed cases in a dorm over the summer, which of course caused a lot of hype. Additionally, earlier in the spring, Egypt killed all of its pigs which apparently resulted in a nasty, stinky garbage problem. All other universities and most schools have been closed, buts that has largely been accepted as an excuse to not go back to school until after Ramadan. There are no current, confirmed cases of H1N1.
I have noticed, more than once, when I enter a metro car women quickly gather their children to create as much distance as possible between them and I. The children proceed to cover their mouth and nose until I leave the car. It is generally the more traditional women, who don the full black robe and veil, thus I had tossed it up to a possibilities of many fears of the unknown. Just recently I began to fully understand the true basis of their fears. I have definitely felt discrimination and the feelings of being the minority but this is my first experience with stigmatization.
On the other hand, I have had many rebellious urges to use the “fear” in my favor. Men on the streets of Cairo could be amusing if they weren’t so annoying (a blog completely devoted to these frustrations is in the works!) A couple times in passing their rude/uneducated/appalling comments I have so greatly desired to give a hacking cough while clutching my chest. Then quickly turn w/ an innocent smile and extended hand to say, “hola, me llamo Maria. I come from Mexico (one of the countries w/ highest concentration of H1N1). Will you pleeeaase marry me?” Oh my, I can’t imagine what they would do!….but not yet fully understanding what it means to live in a police state where with a population of 18mil and 3+mil are employed by the Secret Police and still no grasp of any useful Arabic, my urges turn to a smart smirk hidden as I tuck my head and quietly pass them.
So you know you’re in grad school when people are upset that classes are cancelled. But have no fear! Time will not be completely wasted because the library, where the majority of the student body hangs out to use the computer lab is still open. The food court, where I’m sure the food and cleanliness standards are completely standardized, is still open. The gym, where there are no towels, sanitary wipes or soap for the patrons or the machines, is still open. And me, in the meantime, will continue to read. This week’s article, the Roles of International Organizations: WHO!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
my new place...
The kitchen w/ gas stove and fridge and a li'l geko that lives in the sink! Amanda, my roommate, saw him the first day and freaked! Luckly, she doesn't cook much, so she doesn't know that I still see him....I kinda like him. His name is now Jim.I met my roommate, Amanda, at grad orientation. She is studying Mid-Eastern Studies, Islamic History stuff. We have a lot of similar quirks but most importantly similar study habits. She hails from Tucson, AZ and is lovely!
This weekend, Eid, we are traveling to Dahab, in the Sinai Penninsula to go snorkling for her b-day! And take a camel ride!
My room.
The window overlooks a mechanics shop (I think). I love the breeze but am quickly finding that an open window means I have to dust and sweep almost everyday!
More pics to come...we are slowly decorating, putting things together. Once its picture worthy, they'll be up!
The Palace...aka New Campus
American University-Cairo new campus opened just last year. It's palatial and a beautiful testiment to Arabic architecture. Which simultaneously makes it a labrynth of offices and classrooms that can take hours to navigate!
Both of my programs are still on the 'old' or downtown campus, which I've yet to photograph. I'm very glad that most of my classes will be at the downtown campus bc its a five minute walk from my apt, whereas downtown is an hour or two bus ride each way.
My Thursday night class, however, is on the New Campus. When I first arrived to class last thursday night, the entire 'palace' glowed beautifully in the desert. It was calm, quite and with a peaceful desert breeze-- a true oasis to Downtown Cairo!
Pics of Cairo...
Arriving in Cairo...the Nile!
Midan Tahrir is the Downtown of Cairo. Consistantly cluttered with crazy, honking traffic. The big building you see is the Arab League.
The salmon pink colored building is the Egyptian Museum. It is HUGE! No labels! No organization. I'm sure it would be amazing, if I knew what it all was!
Zahi Hawas (Secretary General of the Supreme council of Antiquities) says that the next greatest archeological discovery will take place in the basement of the museum!
Sleep.
Going to sleep is the most difficult part of moving. There is nothing I can do but be patient as my body learns to recognize this as “my” bed now.
I’ve slept on a lot of different beds/places. I’m amazed at how the subconscious establishes different levels of physical and psychological comfort levels (aka: how quickly one can fall asleep, how ‘hard’ one sleeps, awareness of dreams etc). In my new bed, my body is most comfortable creating a hypotenuse of the bed- completely diagonal. Am I claiming territory?
Dreams during the first few weeks are always bizarre and vivid: goals scored in orange Tri-City soccer shirts; old neighbors delivering flowers at violin recitals; dance partners from around the world, in one club. For what is my brain searching?
My body starts to process the “stresses” of the day. I lay here, my physical body ready for sleep, yet my mental/emotional body still hyper-responsive and just waiting for the next move. It realizes that the people, heat, Arabic, tasks await it tomorrow. Insha-allah.
One consistent element of going to sleep- no matter where I am, it always ends with just me and my thoughts.
Que suena con los angelitos…
Don’t let the bed bugs bite…
Boa noite…
Ma’is-salaama…
I’ve slept on a lot of different beds/places. I’m amazed at how the subconscious establishes different levels of physical and psychological comfort levels (aka: how quickly one can fall asleep, how ‘hard’ one sleeps, awareness of dreams etc). In my new bed, my body is most comfortable creating a hypotenuse of the bed- completely diagonal. Am I claiming territory?
Dreams during the first few weeks are always bizarre and vivid: goals scored in orange Tri-City soccer shirts; old neighbors delivering flowers at violin recitals; dance partners from around the world, in one club. For what is my brain searching?
My body starts to process the “stresses” of the day. I lay here, my physical body ready for sleep, yet my mental/emotional body still hyper-responsive and just waiting for the next move. It realizes that the people, heat, Arabic, tasks await it tomorrow. Insha-allah.
One consistent element of going to sleep- no matter where I am, it always ends with just me and my thoughts.
Que suena con los angelitos…
Don’t let the bed bugs bite…
Boa noite…
Ma’is-salaama…
Sunday, September 13, 2009
What am I really doing in Cairo?
I’m in Cairo to get my Master’s Degree. Insha'Allah (God willing), in 2-3 years, I’ll have a MA in International Human Rights Law with a diploma in Psycho-social Intervention of Forced Migration Studies…yea, yeah basically what all those pretentious academic titles mean is that I’ll better understand International Law systems, the wonders and loopholes of Human Rights and I’ll be able to better serve migrant groups who are being relocated to other countries. Or to break it down further, I’ll be reading about 40-60 hours a week, then writing papers!
On the side, at least for now, I’ve landed an internship at St. Andrew’s Refugee Center. Looking for volunteer opportunities in a random book about Cairo, the organization sounded interesting so I emailed the contact person and went to just see what services they offer and where I might fit in. The minute upon entering the agency gates, I felt very at home. It was great to see clusters of Sudanese, Somalis, and Ethiopians around the yard! I felt very at home with their huge white tooth smiles- tho I was once again the only white girl! Well, long story short, not long after I met the director of the agency, who very quickly inquired into my background and what made me move to Cairo, she asked me to be part of their legal team! Al-humdililah! I feel super lucky to be able to see and work with the ‘other side’ of the refugee journey. The agency I worked for in Chicago resettled refugees from all over the world and I was part of an amazing team of legal advocates that assisted these people with their immigration papers. Now, in
Then on top of that, the Director of my diploma program at AUC initiated a partnership between Unicef and
So, school is 40-60 hours a week, internship 20 hours requirement (but social services always demand more!)… I hope I will know someone who wins the lottery and is willing to share with me otherwise a part time job is really going to overload my week!
Me and Ramadan in Egypt
Prior to coming to Egypt I recognized that I would be arriving at the very beginning of a month of fasting, Ramadan. According to Wikipedia, during which time the Muslim world “refrains from eating, drinking, smoking, and indulging in anything that is in excess or ill-natured; from dawn until sunset. Fasting is meant to teach the Muslim patience, modesty and spirituality. Ramadan is a time for Muslims to fast for the sake of Allah, and to offer more prayer than usual. Muslims ask forgiveness for past sins, pray for guidance and help in refraining from everyday evils, and try to purify themselves through self-restraint and good deeds.” My 6 month introduction to Islam in
When I arrived and my body was re-acclimating to the dry heat I felt extremely uncomfortable and even guilty drinking water in public. Nobody else was and it seemed like all Westerners were trying to be respectful of Ramadan restrictions, to the point where I was sick when I got home. You’re probably saying I was being ridiculous to get sick but you trying being the only white girl, by herself, not wearing a headscarf and then drink water in front of people who were also extremely thirsty! Now after two weeks, I’m over my guilt and now can drink when my body demands. Egyptians Muslims might get arrested for breaking fast during the day in public, but I’m not Egyptian nor Muslim.
Another aspect of life that greatly changes during Ramadan is the daily schedules. Office hours at school are until 1:30pm, little street shops are open until 2-3pm so if you don’t have it done by then you must wait until after iftar (breaking of the fast at sundown). Iftar starts between 6-7 depending on the sun’s schedule and the streets are absolutely—and oh so pleasantly—quite. Until about 8pm when all shops re-open and people flood to the streets to smoke sheesha (hookah), drink tea, eat sweets until around mid-night.
Due to these schedules, one must rush, which is a really a joke in Cairo, to get anything done in the morning. Then, for non-Muslims, wait until 8pmish to get anything else done. It also means that all of my night classes which are to normally be from 5-7:30pm are currently 8-10:30pm. After which, each night my roommate and I have gone shopping for towels, general apt items, groceries, the latest Cairien fashion etc and never find ourselves home before 1am!
So really now, almost at the end of Ramadan, lets just say that my sentiments have changed quite a bit. Here are my real questions. How is it a fast if there is a huge meal served around 6:30pm, another one at mid-night and another one just before sunrise? Isn’t that just a change in schedules? How is it a real sacrifice when the government changed the clocks back this year to make iftar an hour earlier? After talking to some Egyptians females who say that Eid (the break of Ramadan) and the days to follow have the highest incidents of sexual harassment and sexual violence because un-married men have been celibate the entire month, can they really say they are cleansed after the month? Perhaps, “built up” is better!
I guess it’s somewhat comparable to Catholics in the US during Lent. Status-quo Catholic in US: “Yes, Jesus suffered and died to save my sins. I’m going to give up Diet Coke. Except for Sundays!”
I realize that these are stereotypes and generalizations—but they are based in reality. Really, I’m not trying to offend anyone (I apologize if I did). I’m once again in a unique position with “new culture eyes” that allow me to questions many things about a culture I don’t yet understand. I’m trying to question and not judge. So at the same time, to be fair, I must also question who I am, what I do and why I do it. Ramadan has been an interesting experience. I’m intrigued to see how I’ll feel about it next year, once I better understand the language, the people and have seen life in Cairo w/o Ramadan interruptions.
Adjusted
I’ve now lived in my apartment for 1 whole week. I have been in Cairo for just over 2. For some reason, it feels much, much longer than two weeks. I’m not sure if that means time is moving slowly or quickly. Perhaps, because the learning curve is so high and one must accomplish so much, so quickly, in order to set up a new life in a new country the amount of things I’ve accomplished makes 2 weeks feel absurd. Either way, I feel rather ‘adjusted.’
The transition has not been at all difficult for a number of reasons. One, is the wonderful network of people who agreed to host me the minute I stepped off the plane. Friends of friends of friends of a friend, who are now all of my friends!, have really made this the smoothest transition imaginable. (Insert here background music: “It’s a Small World After All.”) From the grocery story, to the book store, to the metro, to a local British watering hole, they have given me or showed me everything for which I could ask.
The second reason emerges from my other ‘experiences.’ I don’t think I’m capable of feeling awkward anymore. I don’t think I get embarrassed. Sweat doesn’t really bother me anymore. And I know for a fact that I can navigate a city and new cultures, by myself, with only hand/sign/body language!
Another reason is the amount of comfort or recognizable objects available- which make anybody feel more at ease. Wednesday night I walked out of class feeling overwhelmed after having read just the syllabi and I looked at my roommate and demanded a McDonalds’ milkshake! We walked across the street from campus to the McDonalds that sits between the KFC and Hardies. I went to buy hair products: do I want Pantene, Fructis, Dove etc? Peanut butter- Jiff or the kind from
I can’t say that I honestly enjoy that, especially after living in Dakar where I didn’t see a McDonalds or Starbucks for 6 months. Yet, oddly enough, I have indulged in a McDonalds’ milkshake, a Snickers, etc. I very rarely eat any of that in the States. Perhaps this is really why the transition has gone soo smoothly...nothin’ like the power of comfort food. J
Thursday, September 3, 2009
How to find an apt in Cairo.
There are a few ways to begin:
1a) Find a friend who "knows" somebody and can give you a lead;
1b) Start walking around the desired neighborhood and ask the bowabs (doorman/maintenence man) if there are any open apts;
1c) Pay a simsar ("realistate agent") a ridiculous fee to show you around a desired neighborhood;
2) Find a friend who speaks Arabic and can go hunting with you;
3) Learn Arabic numbers so you can locate specific buildings;
4) Walk up many flights of stairs looking for an office that one would not normally assume to find in an apt builiding, such as "Mecca Electric" (a good way to see how the building is maintained, but be careful not to pass judgement too quickly);
5) Awkwardly introduce yourself to random man who works in random office and ask if he knows of any extra apartments;
6) Of course he does so he takes you down/up the rickety elevator and opens the door to an available apt.
7) Language barriers and accents greatly diminish any confidence of the real price which changes between 2500 and 1500 every 5 minutes;
8) Ask friend to read through the contract in Arabic;
9) Tell random man that you will call him later with your decision as you walk out the door asking if yourself a million questions of what you got yourself into but proud that you got yourself safely in and out of the experience.
1a) Find a friend who "knows" somebody and can give you a lead;
1b) Start walking around the desired neighborhood and ask the bowabs (doorman/maintenence man) if there are any open apts;
1c) Pay a simsar ("realistate agent") a ridiculous fee to show you around a desired neighborhood;
2) Find a friend who speaks Arabic and can go hunting with you;
3) Learn Arabic numbers so you can locate specific buildings;
4) Walk up many flights of stairs looking for an office that one would not normally assume to find in an apt builiding, such as "Mecca Electric" (a good way to see how the building is maintained, but be careful not to pass judgement too quickly);
5) Awkwardly introduce yourself to random man who works in random office and ask if he knows of any extra apartments;
6) Of course he does so he takes you down/up the rickety elevator and opens the door to an available apt.
7) Language barriers and accents greatly diminish any confidence of the real price which changes between 2500 and 1500 every 5 minutes;
8) Ask friend to read through the contract in Arabic;
9) Tell random man that you will call him later with your decision as you walk out the door asking if yourself a million questions of what you got yourself into but proud that you got yourself safely in and out of the experience.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The Metro
If it weren’t for the intense heat and Ramadan’s ban of liquids, I could probably sit on the Cairo metro all day.
I can’t help but stare.
First of all, Alhumdililah that Amanda told me, cars are gender restricted. There are cars for only women. There are cars for only men and there are cars for families. At least, I think that’s how it works. Red and green above the door symbolize that women can enter. I’m not yet sure what each color really means, but I know I can enter in either red or green. The male only cars are almost always packed like sardine cans. The women only cars I can usually always find a seat. Which begs the question where are the women?
The stations are empty during prayer time, of course. Thus, this is the best travel time for me!
During almost all of my rides today a man or boy came on the female car to sell goods. He would walk once down the aisle carelessly tossing products into the women's laps as his mouth went on like a auctioneer. Then he would start the aisle again collecting money or recollecting the product. I saw a small sewing kit, band-aids, kid’s balloons, paper fans and small school supplies. I’m not sure I have to wonder if he sells these products in the men’s car.
So, besides the colors above certain car doors there is also a drop down sign for women on the platform to approximate where the “women” car will stop. I find it quite funny, however, that men pay it no attention. So, when the train stops and they see they are in front of a “women” car they scramble to their own car door. Don’t you think after living here, they would recognize the signs existence? When a man accidentally gets stuck on a “women” car there are a couple of disgruntled looks but the only time I’ve ever seen a woman say anything is w/ the door still open…I wonder what happens, (if) a woman gets stuck on a “man” car?
Today I saw a new family waiting for the train. The woman was bottle feeding the baby and the man was very attentive to both of them. As the train approached she removed the bottle, he took the baby, she took the diaper bag and they proceeded to different train cars. I wonder why they didn’t go in the ‘family’ car? Perhaps I’ve misread the existence of a ‘family’ car. I’ll have to clarify that.
What also is amazing to me is the women’s clothes. This heat in the States suggests a strapless, just above the knee, simple cotton/linen dress. However, I can’t do that here. So, today I went out in a mid-calf skirt and a linen shirt w/ ¾ length sleeves. If my sweat glands were paid over time they would be banking right now! Soaked in places I can’t even discuss. Yet, about 90% of these ladies were in full length skirts that cover their ankles, some of them heavy denim. Shirts, sometimes 2-3 layered that cover from a high neckline to their wrists. And on top of that, literally, 1-3 head scarves. Now, don’t get me wrong I’ve seen women dressed like this before but when I am, at times, the only one NOT wearing it—it hits a bit harder.
I’ve never really delved into Islamic Studies or Gender Studies but, in my un-educated-in-this-dept opinion, I can easily see how this is a form of oppression. In addition, no one can drink water from sun up to sun down (its Ramadan, the month of fasting in Islam)! No wonder the women car is empty—I’d stay home too!!
Now please don’t get me wrong, I really have nothing against Islam. In fact, I’m very intrigued by it. (Why do some women where all black and cover their faces? Why are some in all black, but expose their faces? Why are some in regular street clothes just layered so to cover all skin? Why did Senegalese women not wear the same style of clothing though they are Muslim? Why don't more men in Egypt wear the long shirt/robe, as Muslim Senegalese men do?) In all honestly, seeing all of this makes me desperate to learn Arabic and to have just the slightest hope that one day these women will open up to me so I too can see behind the veil…
...for now I will keep sweating in the metro.
I can’t help but stare.
First of all, Alhumdililah that Amanda told me, cars are gender restricted. There are cars for only women. There are cars for only men and there are cars for families. At least, I think that’s how it works. Red and green above the door symbolize that women can enter. I’m not yet sure what each color really means, but I know I can enter in either red or green. The male only cars are almost always packed like sardine cans. The women only cars I can usually always find a seat. Which begs the question where are the women?
The stations are empty during prayer time, of course. Thus, this is the best travel time for me!
During almost all of my rides today a man or boy came on the female car to sell goods. He would walk once down the aisle carelessly tossing products into the women's laps as his mouth went on like a auctioneer. Then he would start the aisle again collecting money or recollecting the product. I saw a small sewing kit, band-aids, kid’s balloons, paper fans and small school supplies. I’m not sure I have to wonder if he sells these products in the men’s car.
So, besides the colors above certain car doors there is also a drop down sign for women on the platform to approximate where the “women” car will stop. I find it quite funny, however, that men pay it no attention. So, when the train stops and they see they are in front of a “women” car they scramble to their own car door. Don’t you think after living here, they would recognize the signs existence? When a man accidentally gets stuck on a “women” car there are a couple of disgruntled looks but the only time I’ve ever seen a woman say anything is w/ the door still open…I wonder what happens, (if) a woman gets stuck on a “man” car?
Today I saw a new family waiting for the train. The woman was bottle feeding the baby and the man was very attentive to both of them. As the train approached she removed the bottle, he took the baby, she took the diaper bag and they proceeded to different train cars. I wonder why they didn’t go in the ‘family’ car? Perhaps I’ve misread the existence of a ‘family’ car. I’ll have to clarify that.
What also is amazing to me is the women’s clothes. This heat in the States suggests a strapless, just above the knee, simple cotton/linen dress. However, I can’t do that here. So, today I went out in a mid-calf skirt and a linen shirt w/ ¾ length sleeves. If my sweat glands were paid over time they would be banking right now! Soaked in places I can’t even discuss. Yet, about 90% of these ladies were in full length skirts that cover their ankles, some of them heavy denim. Shirts, sometimes 2-3 layered that cover from a high neckline to their wrists. And on top of that, literally, 1-3 head scarves. Now, don’t get me wrong I’ve seen women dressed like this before but when I am, at times, the only one NOT wearing it—it hits a bit harder.
I’ve never really delved into Islamic Studies or Gender Studies but, in my un-educated-in-this-dept opinion, I can easily see how this is a form of oppression. In addition, no one can drink water from sun up to sun down (its Ramadan, the month of fasting in Islam)! No wonder the women car is empty—I’d stay home too!!
Now please don’t get me wrong, I really have nothing against Islam. In fact, I’m very intrigued by it. (Why do some women where all black and cover their faces? Why are some in all black, but expose their faces? Why are some in regular street clothes just layered so to cover all skin? Why did Senegalese women not wear the same style of clothing though they are Muslim? Why don't more men in Egypt wear the long shirt/robe, as Muslim Senegalese men do?) In all honestly, seeing all of this makes me desperate to learn Arabic and to have just the slightest hope that one day these women will open up to me so I too can see behind the veil…
...for now I will keep sweating in the metro.
Orientation and Friends!
Saturday was grad school orientation. I was excited to see the new oh so talked about campus, meet people and get this show on the road. Apparently and ironically that after moving across two continents, I was nervous, because I couldn’t fall asleep last night. Nerves? Heat? Jetlag? Who knows…
The new campus is huge and beautiful!! Literally on the desert it’s covered by a huge blue sky and surrounded by a constant grey border where desert winds meet sand. While it could easily resemble a fake backdrop in a mall photobooth, it is beautiful! When one looks past campus landscaping a grey wall appears to almost cut off the rest of the world. I’m excited to be part of it!
I’ve yet to see the ‘old’ campus in downtown Cairo. Most of my classes will be downtown while the law library, professors offices, the gym and university activity is at the New Campus. Not as convenient as I anticipated and hoped for especially w/ only AUC buses to transport us the 1-2 hour commute each way (depending on traffic). As always, we’ll make do.
For those of you who have ever moved before, especially to a foreign land with a foreign language, you can empathize with the sentiments of having to create an entirely new friends/family network. For those of you who have not moved, well, its a bit unstable. You find yourself waiting in lines, climbing stairs, craving coffee, wiping sweat next to a stranger and you realize that first impressions are a rather big deal and that you have an entirely clean slate. NO ONE knows you or where your from or what you've done etc. Its quite an exhilerating opportunity to (re)define oneself.
After finding the room of International Human Rights Law people— my new colleagues, some conversations quickly started up, other awkwardly stumbled. “So, where you from?” “where'd you do your undergrad degree” is how it usually starts and then we basically come to the conclusion that non of us have much in common except the fact that we’re alone in Cairo and looking for friends. That in and of itself is basis enough to start a “friendship” and now I can actually scroll through my cell phone contact page!! It was fun to hear where people have studied, what languages they speak, what brings them to Cairo etc. I’m excited to start a program with such a diverse group of people, with diverse travel histories, language experiences and independent goals!
The new campus is huge and beautiful!! Literally on the desert it’s covered by a huge blue sky and surrounded by a constant grey border where desert winds meet sand. While it could easily resemble a fake backdrop in a mall photobooth, it is beautiful! When one looks past campus landscaping a grey wall appears to almost cut off the rest of the world. I’m excited to be part of it!
I’ve yet to see the ‘old’ campus in downtown Cairo. Most of my classes will be downtown while the law library, professors offices, the gym and university activity is at the New Campus. Not as convenient as I anticipated and hoped for especially w/ only AUC buses to transport us the 1-2 hour commute each way (depending on traffic). As always, we’ll make do.
For those of you who have ever moved before, especially to a foreign land with a foreign language, you can empathize with the sentiments of having to create an entirely new friends/family network. For those of you who have not moved, well, its a bit unstable. You find yourself waiting in lines, climbing stairs, craving coffee, wiping sweat next to a stranger and you realize that first impressions are a rather big deal and that you have an entirely clean slate. NO ONE knows you or where your from or what you've done etc. Its quite an exhilerating opportunity to (re)define oneself.
After finding the room of International Human Rights Law people— my new colleagues, some conversations quickly started up, other awkwardly stumbled. “So, where you from?” “where'd you do your undergrad degree” is how it usually starts and then we basically come to the conclusion that non of us have much in common except the fact that we’re alone in Cairo and looking for friends. That in and of itself is basis enough to start a “friendship” and now I can actually scroll through my cell phone contact page!! It was fun to hear where people have studied, what languages they speak, what brings them to Cairo etc. I’m excited to start a program with such a diverse group of people, with diverse travel histories, language experiences and independent goals!
Moving to Egypt
So, I'm back to blogging by popular demand. I'm also back in Africa after a 6-7wk lovely stint in the States. Except this time, I'm on the other side of the continent in Cairo, Egypt.
This has been an amazingly smooth transition. Through a friend of a friend of a friend I have been soo warmly received by complete strangers! They have opened the doors to their flats, their kitchens and their knowledge of Cairo and living in Egypt. It makes everything so much incredibly easier when you have someone to help you with the little ins and outs of life!
Here are some things I've learned, felt or noticed in these first couple of days:
- I really like meeting people on long plane rides. If both parties are willing, there is really a lot to talk about when faced with only a seat back in front of you;
- You can buy a visa at the Cairo airport for $15USD. Why USD I don’t know. It’s really only a sticker. Does that mean it’s only a moneymaker?
- The neighborhood Doqqi is pronounced like, “Doh e”
- Despite the heat and symptoms of dehydration I do feel guilty drinking water in public. Is it guilt or respect?
- The streets are empty during prayer time but especially during Iftar—the breaking of the fast at sundown.
- You can find Chiles, TGIFridays, Starbucks, McDonalds, KFC and all that stuff in Cairo. It kind of disappoints me after living in Dakar w/o any of it. Though the H&M does not disappoint me!
- “shukran” means “thanks” in Arabic.
- There are separate metro cars for females which are much more empty than ‘male only’ cars.
- Despite harsh legal consequences, homosexual is not uncommon (yes, that's a double negative!);
- Respectful Muslim girls like to pole dance in private…;
- A box of Raisin Bran cost between $6-7USD;
- Egyptian beer is called Stella or Sakara and Egyptians cannot buy it during Ramadan. One must carry passport at all times;
- Its really difficult to navigate the streets of Cairo by myself when I don’t read numbers in Arabic;
- Arabic numbers are very easy to learn;
- I drank the water right away and didn’t get sick…at least I don’t think so…there goes my detox diet!;
- There are no begger kids on the streets like in Dakar;
- Traffic is crazy like in Dakar but instead of annoyed honks followed by a slew of insults in Wolof, Cairiens let out more of a ‘yooohoo, comin’ through” honk.
- While the street might have 3 painted lanes, Cairiens can fit at least 5 cars!
- I have no idea how people lived abroad without internet and cell phones!
- Peaches and figs are in season!! Ohhh soo good! Watermelon is definitely not!
- Cairiens hang skinned, headless animals in the street like in Dakar. My friend mentioned as walking down the street: “buy the meat w/ all the flies on it bc the one w/o flies is covered in RAID”
- small bills and change is once again hard to come by and I must once again start to horde;
- there is a hoodie hanging by the door to slip on when the delievery man comes bc females must always cover the shoulders;
- While a bit overwhelming, its fun to look at the different style of apts in all parts of the city and see the horrendous Egyptian style furniture!
- I’m really liking it!
This has been an amazingly smooth transition. Through a friend of a friend of a friend I have been soo warmly received by complete strangers! They have opened the doors to their flats, their kitchens and their knowledge of Cairo and living in Egypt. It makes everything so much incredibly easier when you have someone to help you with the little ins and outs of life!
Here are some things I've learned, felt or noticed in these first couple of days:
- I really like meeting people on long plane rides. If both parties are willing, there is really a lot to talk about when faced with only a seat back in front of you;
- You can buy a visa at the Cairo airport for $15USD. Why USD I don’t know. It’s really only a sticker. Does that mean it’s only a moneymaker?
- The neighborhood Doqqi is pronounced like, “Doh e”
- Despite the heat and symptoms of dehydration I do feel guilty drinking water in public. Is it guilt or respect?
- The streets are empty during prayer time but especially during Iftar—the breaking of the fast at sundown.
- You can find Chiles, TGIFridays, Starbucks, McDonalds, KFC and all that stuff in Cairo. It kind of disappoints me after living in Dakar w/o any of it. Though the H&M does not disappoint me!
- “shukran” means “thanks” in Arabic.
- There are separate metro cars for females which are much more empty than ‘male only’ cars.
- Despite harsh legal consequences, homosexual is not uncommon (yes, that's a double negative!);
- Respectful Muslim girls like to pole dance in private…;
- A box of Raisin Bran cost between $6-7USD;
- Egyptian beer is called Stella or Sakara and Egyptians cannot buy it during Ramadan. One must carry passport at all times;
- Its really difficult to navigate the streets of Cairo by myself when I don’t read numbers in Arabic;
- Arabic numbers are very easy to learn;
- I drank the water right away and didn’t get sick…at least I don’t think so…there goes my detox diet!;
- There are no begger kids on the streets like in Dakar;
- Traffic is crazy like in Dakar but instead of annoyed honks followed by a slew of insults in Wolof, Cairiens let out more of a ‘yooohoo, comin’ through” honk.
- While the street might have 3 painted lanes, Cairiens can fit at least 5 cars!
- I have no idea how people lived abroad without internet and cell phones!
- Peaches and figs are in season!! Ohhh soo good! Watermelon is definitely not!
- Cairiens hang skinned, headless animals in the street like in Dakar. My friend mentioned as walking down the street: “buy the meat w/ all the flies on it bc the one w/o flies is covered in RAID”
- small bills and change is once again hard to come by and I must once again start to horde;
- there is a hoodie hanging by the door to slip on when the delievery man comes bc females must always cover the shoulders;
- While a bit overwhelming, its fun to look at the different style of apts in all parts of the city and see the horrendous Egyptian style furniture!
- I’m really liking it!
Friday, July 10, 2009
When world's collide...
Transition is a necessary and interesting processess...one definitely learns a lot about oneself and the world. Sometimes the world can be so small, sometimes overwhelming large, most confusing is when the two collide...
Things I've noticed during this time of collision:
- grass; the smell of fresh cut grass;
- cold liquid milk not temperate clumpy powdered milk;
- cookie dough!;
- overwhelming full pantries and a simultaneous 'need' to go grocery shopping;
- people chat on their cell phones not just give utilitarian commands to conserve precious minutes;
- a closet of shoes that I can wear because I don't have to walk through sand;
- pickles!;
- soap and toilet paper in every bathroom;
- nothing will ever replace a hug from Dad or a convo with Mom;
- kids commanding their parents...not the other way around;
- the possibility of being in a house by yourself;
- chilly weather;
- no banana sellers on the street, I must go to that big supermarket;
- the T.V. speaks English and Spanish not French and Arabic;
- no daily mosque calls;
- electricity is dependable;
- stuff everywhere;
- I can walk down the street without being asked for money;
- people can walk by without acknowledging you;
- family is the most important support network, on whatever side of the ocean.
(more to come...)
Monday, June 29, 2009
HIV and me.
Last week I had another “never thought I’d be doing this” experience—an AIDS/HIV test! No it was not another one of my sick, “why not/ porque no/ pourquoi pas?” moments. I had to get the test for my visa and admission to AU-Cairo. For those who are not familiar with the procedure, as I was not, it’s a simple blood test (‘simple’ for those that don’t have phobias of medical facilities and procedures). In Dakar, there are many, many facilities that do the test for free. I had to fight a bit to get my name on it for bureaucratic reasons because normally it is done anonymously. The ladies were exceptionally nice and I got my results back within 20 minutes! “absence of HIV antibodies” it read.
The experience was overall very interesting because I had no idea how to deal with the topic culturally. I haven’t been able to feel if it is still a taboo topic, if its “o.k.” to talk about with immediate family members or if I could go public. I had no idea how people would react; would they believe it was really for Egypt or would they think it was just a cover up for an unscrupulous personal life? So, not knowing what to do but not having any shame in the process and feeling I couldn’t hurt anybody, I thought I would whole heartedly help in the destruction of the taboo status…I told almost everybody I know! No problems.
Also in true Senegalese style, as I was going through the “Pre-test counseling” the lady asked my marriage status and once she found out that I was single without a boyfriend in the States and I’ve some how, beyond her wildest imagination, have managed to live in Senegal for 5.5 months w/o boyfriends offered to introduce me to all of her brothers and male cousins. When I politely refused she warmly assured me that I’d for sure find a husband in Cairo! Look at that, HIV counseling and Relationship counseling all in one and for free! What more can a girl ask for?!
HIV Test…check that one off the list…
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Reflection...
It’s this time of the transition process where one gets trapped between two worlds, two families, two languages, two life styles. Sentiments change with the hours. Reflection is unavoidable.
Things I’ve come to love:
- Hibiscus juice, or more commonly known as Bissap. Red, sweet, makes mouth happy;
- Welcoming everyone every time you or they walk into the room, people are important;
- Knowing that I can drop in on anybody at anytime and its never a problem, people are important;
- Cold showers, it’s hot;
- Using the brown crayon to color my friends;
- Family meals, everyone waits for everyone to arrive and we all eat lunch and dinner together;
- People who walk meter after meter w/ you just to make sure you arrive;
- Drums morning, noon and night;
- Coffee sellers on the street. They push little red Nescafe carts around so that you can have coffee any time day or night and for only 50cfa (less than 1USD);
- Peanuts- sugar or roasted;
- Fridays. Unlike the US with its ‘casual Fridays’ in Senegal, Friday is the day to sport your best wears. Its not ‘church clothes’ but ‘mosque clothes.’ The streets are filled with color!;
- My host brothers;
- The ability and true freedom to talk about religion in all parts of daily life. The co-existence of religions;
- Mangos…after every meal;
- Reading novels in French and discovering new vocab;
- The OCEAN!! The waves! (the salt I’m still working on loving…)
- Mint tea that takes hours upon hours to make and serve;
Things I won’t mind leaving behind:
§ Taxi men, Honking taxis, Negotiating prices with taxi drivers;
§ Expensive fresh fruit;
§ Palm oil or oil in every meal…fried food, ughhh!
§ Cockroaches;
§ Fish bones;
§ Slaughtered goat parts in the sand/street;
§ How most Senegalese don’t use toilet paper but a sort of water cleansing system that leaves the toilet seat constantly wet;
§ Begging children;
§ Garbage in the street;
§ Hand washed, stretched out and sun faded clothes;
§ Construction materials that take up the entire sidewalk for weeks at a time and force you to walk close to annoying taxis;
Some things I wish I could change:
§ The idea that I NEED a husband;
§ The conviction that all white people are rich;
§ Literacy rates and access to education, especially for girls;
§ The number of hours I had to spend in the physical classroom that took away from the life classroom;
§ Complacency or the acceptance of certain things without proactive efforts that could be sooo simple to make things work any better;
Things I wish I could do differently:…I don’t go there, everything happens for a reason.
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. -Mark Twain
Things I’ve come to love:
- Hibiscus juice, or more commonly known as Bissap. Red, sweet, makes mouth happy;
- Welcoming everyone every time you or they walk into the room, people are important;
- Knowing that I can drop in on anybody at anytime and its never a problem, people are important;
- Cold showers, it’s hot;
- Using the brown crayon to color my friends;
- Family meals, everyone waits for everyone to arrive and we all eat lunch and dinner together;
- People who walk meter after meter w/ you just to make sure you arrive;
- Drums morning, noon and night;
- Coffee sellers on the street. They push little red Nescafe carts around so that you can have coffee any time day or night and for only 50cfa (less than 1USD);
- Peanuts- sugar or roasted;
- Fridays. Unlike the US with its ‘casual Fridays’ in Senegal, Friday is the day to sport your best wears. Its not ‘church clothes’ but ‘mosque clothes.’ The streets are filled with color!;
- My host brothers;
- The ability and true freedom to talk about religion in all parts of daily life. The co-existence of religions;
- Mangos…after every meal;
- Reading novels in French and discovering new vocab;
- The OCEAN!! The waves! (the salt I’m still working on loving…)
- Mint tea that takes hours upon hours to make and serve;
Things I won’t mind leaving behind:
§ Taxi men, Honking taxis, Negotiating prices with taxi drivers;
§ Expensive fresh fruit;
§ Palm oil or oil in every meal…fried food, ughhh!
§ Cockroaches;
§ Fish bones;
§ Slaughtered goat parts in the sand/street;
§ How most Senegalese don’t use toilet paper but a sort of water cleansing system that leaves the toilet seat constantly wet;
§ Begging children;
§ Garbage in the street;
§ Hand washed, stretched out and sun faded clothes;
§ Construction materials that take up the entire sidewalk for weeks at a time and force you to walk close to annoying taxis;
Some things I wish I could change:
§ The idea that I NEED a husband;
§ The conviction that all white people are rich;
§ Literacy rates and access to education, especially for girls;
§ The number of hours I had to spend in the physical classroom that took away from the life classroom;
§ Complacency or the acceptance of certain things without proactive efforts that could be sooo simple to make things work any better;
Things I wish I could do differently:…I don’t go there, everything happens for a reason.
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. -Mark Twain
Monday, June 22, 2009
Randomness...
This is going to be a random collection of things.
Friday, June 19 was a day of awareness for Drepanocytosis or Sickle-Cell Anaemia. Sickle-cell anemia is a life-long, genetic and hereditary blood disorder that affects the red blood cells. Life expectancy is shortened, with studies reporting an average life expectancy of 42 and 48 years for males and females, respectively. Approximately one-third of all inhabitants of Sub-Saharan Africa carry this gene. It’s usually found in the same regions where Malaria is/was prevalent thus can also be found in Northern Africa, the Mediterranean, Turkey, Saudi Arabia. Approximately 300,000 children are born each year w/ the disease. According to the National Institute of Health, approximately 1 in 5,000 carry the disease in the States and it’s most prevalent among African American populations. I didn’t know any of that before Friday.
Carriers of the disease are much more susceptible to Malaria. Before I came to Senegal I had heard of malaria. When I arrived in Senegal, it was treated as a normal element of life in Senegal: everyone in my family has had it at least once. My friend Brian has it now for the fourth time. I have two weeks left…(fingers crossed!!!) Its existence is unavoidable thus it creates a very pragmatic mindset for Senegalese, that I admit, I’ve not yet fully acquired.
Rainy season is almost upon us. Every evening the sky becomes more grey and heavy. What does rainy season really mean? It means, constant flooding in the poorest neighborhoods. That means sewage everywhere…that means public health disaster…It means sleeping under the stagnant air of mosquito nets every night. It means swarms of mosquitoes and any one of them can knock you out for a week—possibly longer-- with malaria. It’s precipitated by growing heat and humidity. Thus the cockroaches have left their homes to fill our homes: the bathroom, the kitchen, the hallway, the stairway…every night cockroaches. I must say I’ve gotten to the point of just looking at them and making a wide circle to avoid them. Who am I to determine who/what has a right to live?
It’s getting hot. I used to say that I really like heat. I still do but my hair hasn’t been completely dry for a week. There is always a bit of sweat. I’m in simple sun dresses, how do Senegalese still manage jeans and long sleeve shirts? My friend visited a neighboring town today and he said it was 46˚C (115ishF) at 9am. It’s hot. I wonder if I’ll be cold in Chicago in two weeks?
I’ll be back in the States in 2 weeks. It wasn’t exactly as planned, but considering I had no real plan it doesn’t really matter. I’ve been accepted to the Master’s Program at American University in Cairo, Egypt for the fall. So, I’ll be back long enough to say hi and repack then off to Egypt for two years! Two weeks left…where does the time go?
Friday, June 19 was a day of awareness for Drepanocytosis or Sickle-Cell Anaemia. Sickle-cell anemia is a life-long, genetic and hereditary blood disorder that affects the red blood cells. Life expectancy is shortened, with studies reporting an average life expectancy of 42 and 48 years for males and females, respectively. Approximately one-third of all inhabitants of Sub-Saharan Africa carry this gene. It’s usually found in the same regions where Malaria is/was prevalent thus can also be found in Northern Africa, the Mediterranean, Turkey, Saudi Arabia. Approximately 300,000 children are born each year w/ the disease. According to the National Institute of Health, approximately 1 in 5,000 carry the disease in the States and it’s most prevalent among African American populations. I didn’t know any of that before Friday.
Carriers of the disease are much more susceptible to Malaria. Before I came to Senegal I had heard of malaria. When I arrived in Senegal, it was treated as a normal element of life in Senegal: everyone in my family has had it at least once. My friend Brian has it now for the fourth time. I have two weeks left…(fingers crossed!!!) Its existence is unavoidable thus it creates a very pragmatic mindset for Senegalese, that I admit, I’ve not yet fully acquired.
Rainy season is almost upon us. Every evening the sky becomes more grey and heavy. What does rainy season really mean? It means, constant flooding in the poorest neighborhoods. That means sewage everywhere…that means public health disaster…It means sleeping under the stagnant air of mosquito nets every night. It means swarms of mosquitoes and any one of them can knock you out for a week—possibly longer-- with malaria. It’s precipitated by growing heat and humidity. Thus the cockroaches have left their homes to fill our homes: the bathroom, the kitchen, the hallway, the stairway…every night cockroaches. I must say I’ve gotten to the point of just looking at them and making a wide circle to avoid them. Who am I to determine who/what has a right to live?
It’s getting hot. I used to say that I really like heat. I still do but my hair hasn’t been completely dry for a week. There is always a bit of sweat. I’m in simple sun dresses, how do Senegalese still manage jeans and long sleeve shirts? My friend visited a neighboring town today and he said it was 46˚C (115ishF) at 9am. It’s hot. I wonder if I’ll be cold in Chicago in two weeks?
I’ll be back in the States in 2 weeks. It wasn’t exactly as planned, but considering I had no real plan it doesn’t really matter. I’ve been accepted to the Master’s Program at American University in Cairo, Egypt for the fall. So, I’ll be back long enough to say hi and repack then off to Egypt for two years! Two weeks left…where does the time go?
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
What it means to be sick in Senegal...
It means:
-you must explain to every Senegalese you encounter that you will not shake their hand so as to prevent the spreading germs; then when they look at you like you’re a crazy American who is over paranoid about ‘germs’, you walk away;
-to explain to your host family that its not a good idea that you eat from the same common plate, or share a spoon w/ a host brother because, yes this spreads germs too; (“germs” is not a common concern here—everyone is family, same ‘germs”)
-the first sign of headache or fever brings the automatic question: “Do I have malaria?” “How long should I wait to get tested?”
-when you try to explain your ailments to the pharmacist its better just to write because a head cold does not help the accent;
-when the pharmacist hands you 4 different boxes of medication you must decipher the medical instructions in French to really know what each one does…why would he try to sell me one medication that makes the nose stop running and an anti-decongestant? Oh right…I’m white …money….
- frequent power outages cuts off the ceiling fan for hours at a time—the only hope of air circulation as you lay under your mosquito net—so you strip off almost all of your clothes except the t-shirt that soaks up sweat. Then it miraculously comes back on full speed and you start to freeze. Great for the body temp!;
-when your head is whirling from a pounding headache, your body is dripping sweat with fever and you’re trying to stabilize yourself on the toilet and determine which end it will come out of first, the cockroaches on the bathroom floor make for a great momentary distraction;
-a great lesson learned: check the expiration date on your medication before packing them. My Tylenol expired in February…there is no Tylenol at the local pharmacy…I don’t know who to trust and I can barely pronounce “acetaminophen” in English, let alone French;
- it’s a great start to loosing the 3 kilos gained by eating rice and fried fish everyday!
-what doesn’t kill ya, only makes ya stronger!
-you must explain to every Senegalese you encounter that you will not shake their hand so as to prevent the spreading germs; then when they look at you like you’re a crazy American who is over paranoid about ‘germs’, you walk away;
-to explain to your host family that its not a good idea that you eat from the same common plate, or share a spoon w/ a host brother because, yes this spreads germs too; (“germs” is not a common concern here—everyone is family, same ‘germs”)
-the first sign of headache or fever brings the automatic question: “Do I have malaria?” “How long should I wait to get tested?”
-when you try to explain your ailments to the pharmacist its better just to write because a head cold does not help the accent;
-when the pharmacist hands you 4 different boxes of medication you must decipher the medical instructions in French to really know what each one does…why would he try to sell me one medication that makes the nose stop running and an anti-decongestant? Oh right…I’m white …money….
- frequent power outages cuts off the ceiling fan for hours at a time—the only hope of air circulation as you lay under your mosquito net—so you strip off almost all of your clothes except the t-shirt that soaks up sweat. Then it miraculously comes back on full speed and you start to freeze. Great for the body temp!;
-when your head is whirling from a pounding headache, your body is dripping sweat with fever and you’re trying to stabilize yourself on the toilet and determine which end it will come out of first, the cockroaches on the bathroom floor make for a great momentary distraction;
-a great lesson learned: check the expiration date on your medication before packing them. My Tylenol expired in February…there is no Tylenol at the local pharmacy…I don’t know who to trust and I can barely pronounce “acetaminophen” in English, let alone French;
- it’s a great start to loosing the 3 kilos gained by eating rice and fried fish everyday!
-what doesn’t kill ya, only makes ya stronger!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Another Saturday morning...
You know the feeling when your heart is happy? When the muscle emulates the smile of the Valentine’s Day symbol? I feel that this morning…J I just spent another Saturday morning at Ibou’s workshop making ceramics, helping lil’ kids paint their masterpieces and joking with deaf and mute young adults.(pic: Ibou with a proud student)
When I went to St. Louis in early March with the handicap kids I met a wonderful man named Ibou who over the past 12-15 years has completely dedicated his life to helping those rejected by society: mostly handicap and street children. He’s just one of those simple, rather timid guys who simply loves to help people. He has converted his humble home into a 
workshop, open 7 days a week, where only a tiny room w/bed and small fridge rest as his personal belongings. He shares everything from personnel items to passion for the arts. He currently employs about 15 children, many of whom are deaf and mute. In addition, he feeds them daily breakfast, lunch and an afternoon snack. Many of these kids cannot afford school or cannot go to school because there is no program to assist their needs. He has taught them a trade, but most importantly, he has taught them self-confidence.
(pic: the workshop)
workshop, open 7 days a week, where only a tiny room w/bed and small fridge rest as his personal belongings. He shares everything from personnel items to passion for the arts. He currently employs about 15 children, many of whom are deaf and mute. In addition, he feeds them daily breakfast, lunch and an afternoon snack. Many of these kids cannot afford school or cannot go to school because there is no program to assist their needs. He has taught them a trade, but most importantly, he has taught them self-confidence.(pic: the workshop)
Since St. Louis, I have spent every available Wednesday and Saturday morning there in silent laughter. They have even started to teach me French Sign Language! And to further emphasize my amazement described in my last blog—those employees that manage to hear some sounds and can ‘grunt’ back in response (sorry, I don’t know the appropriate term) understand and can respond in French and Wolof! Even though they can’t talk, they’re bi-lingual!(pics:two of the boys who work for Ibou.)
Appropriate to the circumstance, words can’t describe how I love to work along side them! Thanks to the generous donations of friends and family (including Rotary family!) in the States this week Ibou and I are going to buy 2 big gas tanks for the workshop. The tanks will allow for a more even
pressure and larger ‘cooking’ capacity for the ceramics. When I told him this morning that friends have donated in order to help his dream, his large black eyes filled w/ tears and he gave me an awkward hug and a whisper “merci 
beaucoup”Thursday, June 4, 2009
Lovin' languages...
I am flabergasted. I just got a ride from a Rotarian and he was explaining the nuances between two synonymous words in French. Like most people in foreign countries, he took advantage of being w/ an anglo-phone and explained the acute nuance in English. He then gave me a example of similar phrases in Wolof. About 3 minutes later he mentioned that he’s originally from Cape Verde (the island nation off the coast of Senegal. The national language is Portugese but the local language is Creole-Portuguese). I threw in, “oh, I speak Portugese too!” He then switched the conversation in to Portuguese! That’s four distinct languages, fluently implemented within a matter of about 5 minutes!! I’m so jealous!
Yes, I can understand/speak multiple languages but my brain still has a VERY difficult time separating them all. I will fully admit that currently when I open my mouth with the intention of speaking Portuguese it comes out in French. Spanish speaking abilities hit the back burner a good couple of months ago. I’m not saying that I’ve lost it all—the speaking is just delayed-- because thanks to my i-pod I still get a daily dose of each language. Sure, it could definitely be the fact that I’ve stuffed 3 new languages in my head in the last 7 years, they’re all of the same linguistic family and I didn’t start at infancy…either way seamless transition is something I definitely aspire to and dorky as it is, I would be super interested to know how the brain acquires and digests languages.
The language abilities in W. Africa is one thing that completely amazes me. Senegal has a number of local languages depending on the geographic region and the ethnic group: Wolof, Peul, Joola, Manding, Sereer etc. However, for many reasons, urbanization being the main, almost everyone speaks Wolof. In addition, once of school age (if the family can afford school) they quickly acquire French. The facility was specifically evident when we were in the Casamance. There the local language is Joola (in French: Diolla) but there is also a large population of Pulaar (people who speak Peul). Yet when the groups mix everyone speaks Wolof and then you throw in a bunch of white tourists and its switches to French. These are not dialects mind you, they are distinct languages. How can the brain handle that?
I shouldn’t limit it to W. Africa though because even my European buddies could switch with ease. Jonathan my Swedish buddy easily slid between Swedish, English and French. Lies can switch between Flemish, French, English and a bit of Wolof…
The most obvious of deductions, for me, is that it’s an “American thing.” While our passport might get us into many places we are definitely less developed in the language department. And if one begins to suggest, “why learn other languages when everybody speaks ‘our’ language?” well – um, that deserves another blog. Until then, I better get studying!
Yes, I can understand/speak multiple languages but my brain still has a VERY difficult time separating them all. I will fully admit that currently when I open my mouth with the intention of speaking Portuguese it comes out in French. Spanish speaking abilities hit the back burner a good couple of months ago. I’m not saying that I’ve lost it all—the speaking is just delayed-- because thanks to my i-pod I still get a daily dose of each language. Sure, it could definitely be the fact that I’ve stuffed 3 new languages in my head in the last 7 years, they’re all of the same linguistic family and I didn’t start at infancy…either way seamless transition is something I definitely aspire to and dorky as it is, I would be super interested to know how the brain acquires and digests languages.
The language abilities in W. Africa is one thing that completely amazes me. Senegal has a number of local languages depending on the geographic region and the ethnic group: Wolof, Peul, Joola, Manding, Sereer etc. However, for many reasons, urbanization being the main, almost everyone speaks Wolof. In addition, once of school age (if the family can afford school) they quickly acquire French. The facility was specifically evident when we were in the Casamance. There the local language is Joola (in French: Diolla) but there is also a large population of Pulaar (people who speak Peul). Yet when the groups mix everyone speaks Wolof and then you throw in a bunch of white tourists and its switches to French. These are not dialects mind you, they are distinct languages. How can the brain handle that?
I shouldn’t limit it to W. Africa though because even my European buddies could switch with ease. Jonathan my Swedish buddy easily slid between Swedish, English and French. Lies can switch between Flemish, French, English and a bit of Wolof…
The most obvious of deductions, for me, is that it’s an “American thing.” While our passport might get us into many places we are definitely less developed in the language department. And if one begins to suggest, “why learn other languages when everybody speaks ‘our’ language?” well – um, that deserves another blog. Until then, I better get studying!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Family: Goree and Guacamole
As mentioned in my previous blog, my goal for my last couple of weeks in Senegal is to dive into life in Dakar. The first target: my host family!Of course in this predominantly Muslim country, last Thursday, the Catholic Holiday of the Ascension, was a national holiday that cancelled all formal activity. It was a perfect day to take the lil’ host brothers to Goree Island, a small island not 3km from Dakar that stands as a symbol of the Atlantic slave trade. It apparently was discovered by the Portuguese around 1444 and was passed through the possession of the Dutch, British, and French before finally returning to Senegal with Senegalese independence in 1960. Due to its small physical size, only a small percentage of the millions of slaves from W. Africa actually passed through the island. It was mostly used as a commercial trading point nonetheless, it plays a significant role in the representation of this dark period of history.
Ok, so I try to ensure that I have smart little brothers, but it 
was also a holiday—enough of the academic stuff! Mustafa, Mame Moussa, Lucy and I took the 20 minute ferry to this “Island of No Return.” We started the perfectly sunny day at the Women’s Museum. After which I, of course, showed my lil’ brothers what it really means to have a sister, as they had to sit and wait for me to buy local jewelry! Lots of beads! After lunch of a long promised pizza, we visited the Maison des esclaves (Slave House). The most frequently visited tourist attraction is divided into holding chambers for men, women and children, which served as a last residence before they were shipped overseas. The described grim conditions gave any eerie sense to an otherwise beautiful day. We then explored the petit island a bit more before heading back to mainland. Great day of family bonding and fun in the sun!
was also a holiday—enough of the academic stuff! Mustafa, Mame Moussa, Lucy and I took the 20 minute ferry to this “Island of No Return.” We started the perfectly sunny day at the Women’s Museum. After which I, of course, showed my lil’ brothers what it really means to have a sister, as they had to sit and wait for me to buy local jewelry! Lots of beads! After lunch of a long promised pizza, we visited the Maison des esclaves (Slave House). The most frequently visited tourist attraction is divided into holding chambers for men, women and children, which served as a last residence before they were shipped overseas. The described grim conditions gave any eerie sense to an otherwise beautiful day. We then explored the petit island a bit more before heading back to mainland. Great day of family bonding and fun in the sun!When one resides with a host family, it’s pretty much required to cook a ‘meal from home.’ Well, I’m not
about to perpetuate this whole American Hamburger thing, so, considering available ingredients, next on the list was tacos! Cilantro is impossible to find here so I can’t say it was really “Mexican” but they loved it! At first glance at the green paste they pronounce as, “gu-ca-moleh” nobody would try it. I insisted that after all the things I have put in my mouth without a single clue or question of what it might be, they must at least try… grimacing faces quickly turned to big smiles and heaping spoonfuls! They also found it quite “interesting” that I would suggest eating uncooked onions—greased up, cooked-until-nutritionally dead onions are in almost every Senegalese plate. The idea of raw veggies is quite bizarre. Even my host Dad, whos praises are more than few and far between, helped himself to second large serving! I think I successfully destroyed their notions that toubabs can’t cook!In mention of my host Dad…we, in particular, have made quite a bit of progress this week. He is a very proud Wolof man (of Olof origin) and he insists almost everyday that I speak Wolof. Every day when I arrive home, he or one of his friends gives me a fast slew of questions in Wolof- which of course, they have no real intention of me understanding. When I politely try to ask, “ca veut dire quoi en francais?” (that means what in French) they throw their head back in laughter and start the daily chant, “She hasn’t learned anything!” While they say it in jest, its gets a bit tiring- especially on those emotionally sensitive days in the exchange process. Well, this week when he started his chant, I looked him directly in the eyes (which a young person is never to do to an elder in Wolof culture) and I proudly stated, “I have learned a lot in your beautiful country—but NOT Wolof.” He stopped, gave me a smirk and a pat on the back. I haven’t heard the chant since!
So, things with the Senegalese family are going great and I look forward to the next month together. I must also throw in that things with the American family are also great as another nephew was born this week! Bienvenue, Luke James et felicitations a Tom et Melissa!!!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
why is it that when things start to feel comfortable, change is always just around the corner?
oh, and this whole gift for languages thing...I'm not sure I consider it such a gift anymore being that I have to translate my CV into 3 additional languages....did you know that Microsoft Word's Dictionary now has the language option: Espanol (Etados Unidos)...
oh, and this whole gift for languages thing...I'm not sure I consider it such a gift anymore being that I have to translate my CV into 3 additional languages....did you know that Microsoft Word's Dictionary now has the language option: Espanol (Etados Unidos)...
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Photo snaps of the Casamance...
The beach at Cap Skirring was one of the most beautiful I've seen in the world. Being that it wasn't tourist Season or saison des espanols (apparently lots of Spaniards come every July), there was no one but us and a couple of stray bulls.
Yep, he's really popular everywhere. Pic of the three Americans and two local guys.
One afternoon we visited a village that makes cashew nuts. I had absolutely no idea how much work it is to get just one nut. weeks and weeks...did you know that someone has to shell each individual nut from the fruit...after its been cooked, dried for 3-21 days (depending if its rainy season) then roasted, then a skin is shaved off...I now understand why they're expensive!
Me w/ local rasta guys and the regional delicacy-- palm wine! Lots of rastas in the Casamance. They don't do much but pot and assist with local image to the tourist industry.
Tons of flamingos! They're a beautiful and rather regal looking species. I especially enjoyed watching their knees bend "backwards."
The usual walk to a local village. Hot, dry, big baobab trees, mud huts. The houses in the Casamance are much bigger than other regions and sometimes made to house entire villages and their livestocks, particularly during colonial times.
Typical plate... "gumbo" which is really a bed of white rice covered in a green sauce made from okra, lots of palm oil that includes lots of different kinds of sea food. Its a dish full of lots of surprises!
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