Global warming, ethanol, and growing beef demand...

... combine to mean bad news for the global poor, according to an article in the magazine Egypt Today. It could be better written, but the author does a good job weaving together various strains of news into a coherent fabric. Unfortunately, the outlook is predictably grim: food availability in poor countries--already pretty terrible--is set to get worse.

Mogamma

A couple of days ago, Nate and I ventured into Mogamma:














Mogamma is the huge, Soviet-style building that holds over 3000 government offices and is the center of Egypt's sprawling bureaucracy. In Arabic, Mogamma literally means "together."

We had to go to Mogamma in order to get our visas extended for one year. Many people had warned us about the chaos inside, and so we went expecting the worst. We got there in the morning with most of our necessary documents -- our passport, a copy of our passport, passport sized head-shots (they take copies! so we just copied our passports and cut out the picture!), and lots of money. We had forgotten to get the page with our 30 day Egyptian tourist visa copied, so we queued up at the copier booth on the ground floor. This would be a good time to note that Egyptians don't really queue -- they go where there is space. Any semblance of a line quickly turns to a crowd gathered around some central point. This happens in take-away restaurants (when you're trying to place an order or pick up food), in driving (lanes are ignored), and lines like the one we stood in for copies. Luckily there weren't too many people there yet (maybe around 8 or 9), so it didn't take us long to jam our bodies up to the window and have our copies made.

We then proceeded upstairs to the second floor, as friends had told us that was where the visas were given. We wandered through the halls for a little bit, not knowing exactly where to go, asking a few different security guards along the way, most of whom were unable to help us at all. After enough wandering and asking, we finally found out way to the right section. The hall was filled with windows, almost like the teller windows in banks, with different groups of people crowded around each window. We found that, much to our delight, the windows were all labeled in Arabic and English, so we easily found the correct window. There was, of course, a crowd around the window, people from Sudan, UK, Germany, the Philippines, Saudi Arabia, and UAE. Once we pushed out way toward the window, the woman handed us two forms and told us to come back once we had finished them. We quickly filled it out and pushed through again; while we were waiting to speak to the woman again, a British lady next to us told us we needed to buy stamps. We shuffled back through the hall, found the right window, and bought these stamps that had to go on our visa application -- we each had 7 different stamps, each stamp costing anywhere from LE 3 - LE 50. Anyway, finally with stamps, photocopies, and pictures in hand, we turned in our applications, handed over our passports, and waited.

Now it's a little strange (and unnerving!) to hand over your passport in a foreign country. We weren't given a receipt or anything, just told to come back in a couple of hours and our visas would be ready. We didn't really want to venture far without our passports in hand, so we found two of the few remaining seats along the hall, pulled out our books, and waited.

For those of you who know me, you know that patience is not one of my strengths (understatement?). So while the woman had told us to come back in 2 hour, I started feeling antsy after about ... 35 minutes. Nate managed to make me sit still for another 10 minutes, and then I decided I would go check and see if our passports are ready yet. (Imagine me as a child during road trips ... the "Are we there yet?" started very early on.) So I huddled around the window with others waiting for their passports, amazed at the stacks of paper on the other side. Some how, they manage to do EVERYTHING by hand -- no computers in sight. So there were stacks of passports and visa applications all over the place. Every 5 or 6 minutes, a man would hand the woman sitting at the counter a new stack of passports ... people would then eagerly point out their own passport (from behind a glass wall, mind you), and the lady would hand them out. I have no idea how this process actually manages to work, how hundreds of passports don't get lost or stolen every year, but it does.

In any case, I only waited 10 minutes or so before spotting our passports. The lady readily gave me mine, and when I pointed to Nate's, she asked me some question in Arabic. I couldn't understand, so I just pointed at the passport and nodded some more, and she handed it to me. Lucky for him, we're actually married. =)

Site visits

The way that CEOSS, our organization, generally works is that it finds/forms small associations in underdeveloped communities, builds their capacity to implement positive change, trains and funds them, and watches them do their thing. The relatively organic and empowering nature of the process has impressed me.

On Thursday we visited a couple local NGOs in eastern Cairo with which CEOSS has partnerships. We met the leaders of each organization in their offices and learned about how they started and what they do. Medhat, our supervisor, translated. I've already forgotten many of the specifics, and am not sure that our translation was always spot on, but the first NGO focuses on housing improvement and sanitation (it's right next to an open sewer ditch, with flies everywhere) and the second on education/literacy, targeting the children who work in the streets.

Both NGOs offered us drinks; the first offered cake too. Both NGOs were Muslim, and therefore everyone was fasting until evening, yet they still wanted to be hospitable. Milli and I hesitated, and politely refused. But they insisted, saying playfully that the spiritual testing would be good for them. Two of the CEOSS (Christian) field workers took a piece of cake so we wouldn't be the only ones eating. Milli and I picked up our cake, and thanked them.

Doing laundry

This would have been a really cool picture if some guy hadn't gotten in the way... ;)

Christmas?

Similarities abound between Ramadan here and the Christmas season as celebrated in the States, according to my expert analysis:

1) People are more generous than the rest of the year.
2) The halls are decked -- with lanterns, streamers, lights.
3) Rampant commercialism overwhelms religious significance.
4) Families gather around excessively heaped tables.
5) No one really feels like working.
6) From what I've heard, they play the same TV shows every year.

In the Coptic part of the city a couple days ago, we saw an example of #1. A donkey-pulled cart was making its way down the street. Men on the back of the cart were filling plastic bags with what we guessed to be hibiscus tea, which they drew from a large barrel, and then passing them out to everyone on the street. Little kids were swarming the cart, practically on top of each other.

Ramadan mubarak!

The working life

I wanted to write a bit more about our work, now that we've been here for a few weeks.

We haven't had a whole lot to do yet. Still mostly "settling in" type activities like background reading, leaving us substantial time with nothing (productive) to do. The one real job we've had is to take a bunch of notes and emails and compile an itinerary for a Danish development agency who's visiting in a few weeks. On a more interesting note, we are scheduled to visit a couple of Cairo's program sites later this week! And there is talk of going to Minia -- a city a couple hours south where much of CEOSS's outreach is concentrated -- and staying a couple days! So things are looking up.

Milli and I share an office on the second floor of the five-story HQ, located in a middle-class area on the edge of Cairo proper. It's a nice building, with an elevator and good bathrooms. Also, there are kitchens on every floor, staffed with people whose primary job is to cater to everyone's beverage needs: we got all the free drinks we want! They'll even deliver them to your office. Between us, we've already had bottled water, mango juice, Diet Pepsi and two coffees -- and it's not yet lunchtime! This royal treatment came completely unexpected and is the best part about working at CEOSS.

One of the downsides is the climate control. Don't worry, the AC works. Indeed, too well. Milli is cold much of the day and is currently reading on our sunny, though tiny, balcony =)

coptic cairo

a note or two to our readers

1) for those of you who have been reading, thank you. we are both thankful to be able to share our experiences here in cairo with our community. despite seas and time zones that separate us, it helps us feel a little more connected with the rest of our world.

2) for those of you who have been commenting, thank you. we so very much look forward to comments (we eagerly check every morning when we get to work), and we'd love to form conversations (whether through comments or follow-up emails) over some of the topics we have mentioned (or will mention in the future) in our blog.

3) you all should download skype. we've loved being able to talk to our families regularly, and it's been made possible through skype. it's free, easy, and works wonderfully. we would love to talk to some of you. so, download it here , and add us to your contact list. our skype name is "natenmilli" ... find us!!!

birthday shout-out to my brother

Happy Birthday, Aalok!

Welcome to 19. Enjoy the last of your teenage years. Don't be too rowdy at Tufts as you celebrate.

Malt beverages

"O you who believe! Intoxicants and gambling, dedication of stones, and divination by arrows are an abomination, among the works of Satan. Abstain from such works so that you may prosper. Satan's plan is to stir up enmity and hatred between you, with intoxicants and gambling, and hinder you from the remembrance of God, and from prayer. Will you not then abstain?"
- Quran 5:90-91

Muslims cannot drink alcohol. But some people evidently still need their beer, so there's a multiplicity of non-alcoholic "malt beverages" on the market. The Dutch and Germans saw an untapped market and sent over non-alcoholic Heinekin and Becks. One variety that I believe is local is called Birrel. They have it available at work and I tried one today. Absolutely terrible. No matter how much I wanted to look cool (which is the only possible reason we can see for drinking the stuff), I doubt I would be able to choke it down.

Though Egypt is predominately Muslim, it's not an Islamic state, so alcohol is still sold in speciality stores and some restaurants, but not in grocery stores. The local beer is called Stella. I tried it once and it's not that bad.

some facts: egyptian salaries

average monthly salary of a ...
... public school teacher: 150 LE
... college professor with a PhD: 1300 LE
... sales representative: 700 LE
... mid-level government employee: 300 LE

and, for a basis in comparison, the cost of ...
... 3-4 pieces of pita: 1 LE
... a loaf of sliced bread: 5 LE
... 500 mL milk: 6 LE
... dozen egges: 9 LE
... one bowl of kushari: 2 LE
... 1 can of coke: 1.85 LE
... 1 can of root beer: 6 LE
... local brand of cereal: 10 LE
... Kelloggs: 42 LE

$1 = 5.6 LE

Thirsty?

Of the public watering holes placed strategically throughout the city, this is one of the nicer ones. It even has TWO communal plastic cups instead of just one.

Getting around Cairo

There seem to be four basic ways to travel around Cairo: (1) by metro, (2) by foot, (3) by taxi/car, and (4) by mini-bus. So far we've relied only on the first three, as buses seem like an adventure unto themselves. We'll brave them someday soon, we hope.

The first way, by metro, is by far the easiest and nicest way to get around. A one-way ticket costs 1 LE (about 20 cents), and the stations and maps are all clearly marked in both Arabic and Roman script. The metro is clean and runs often, from early in the morning until at least midnight. Here's a picture:













The second way, by foot, is also easy enough. Roads often have lots of potholes and bumps, thee are piles of trash everywhere, and feet get really dirty from the sand if one wears flip-flops, but walking is the best way to actually see and hear the city. One danger: getting run over. More about drivers in a moment. Those walking don't help the situation either, crossing anywhich place with little regard to oncoming traffic. The other day, the van we were in on the way to work actually hit a pedestrian! Thankfully he was okay ... but honestly, I'm amazed it doesn't happen much more often ...

... because of the crazy drivers. Drivers drive as if they were blind, paying no attention to lanes, other cars, and least of all, pedestrians. There seem to be lane markers on the road, but cars basically go where there is space. Two lane streets become three, four lane streets, with cars inches away from one another. Most cars have dented, scratched bumpers that people don't seem to bother getting fixed ... cause really, there seems to be little point. And honking seems to be the second most widely spoken (and perhaps even understood) language -- there are honks when a car approaches, is passing, wants to pass, is allowing someone else to pass, sees someone in the way, and sometimes, for no apparent reason at all. Anyway, here's a view from the taxi we took this afternoon:

Confession

I'm a bad tourist.

Embedded in my complexity-ridden head is a distressing paradox:

1) I love visiting new places and peoples and cultures, and I love commodifying them in such a way that I can put them in my pocket and take them home. Which is why I have a secret dream of being a great photographer. It's the artform I am the closest to being able to personally produce. But I hope to be able to live that life vicariously through my brother (in-law), because I will probably never be able to myself because...

2) I go to extraordinary lengths to be culturally sensitive. To a fault, I admit. One area this sensitivity rears its head is in my hesitation to take pictures when there's a chance it would be inappropriate and make someone uncomfortable. My introversion also compels me to avoid making a scene, or even drawing much attention. I try to blend in wherever I am -- as you may guess, with the places I choose to live (Uganda, Harlem, now Cairo), often in vain. And yet, still I try, even though some people tell me I shouldn't bother.

Also, I admit that I tend to romanticize the "other." Part of me sometimes wishes that I could leave my own culture and become part of another. It's the reason I resonate with movies like Dances with Wolves or The Last Samurai, despite their bad actors: a sensitive, "civilized" White Man repents of his colonizing homeland and joins a noble, "uncivilized," indigenous community which his people are usually in the process of bulldozing. Simplistic and overly dramatic, yes; but it gets me every time. I want to be like the "other," so I play down everything that separates us and pretend like I belong.

So, out of respect, intimidation, shyness, or something else I can't codify, I hesitate. I drool over the portraiture and beautifully framed scenes that others can produce because they aren't hindered by hesitations like mine. At the same time, I hate the means to the end. I hate the tourist attitude and demeanour and sheer obtrusiveness.

All this to say, last night was disappointing. Milli and I went out aiming to seeing post-fast Ramadan revelry, and while we didn't see as much jubilation as we had been told to expect, it was incredible nonetheless. We turned off the main roads and meandered through the side streets and alleys of our neighborhood. Clusters of dazed men sat around in cafes, billowing sheesha (hookah) smoke. A group of boys huddled around a small TV in an alley, watching a football game. We passed under banners, flags and strands of lights draped between buildings, part of the festivity's decorations. People sat at a long table set for a few dozen, waiting for the fast to be broken. A woman watched us pass from a second-floor balcony where she was hanging clothes to dry. A small boy almost bumped into us as he ran past, dragging a wooden chair behind him. A posse of goats stood tethered against a wall.

Around every corner lay another intriguing snapshot of life, but I couldn't take any of them.

On our way back home (or what we thought was back -- we got lost), we passed the long table again, which was now bustling. They wouldn't let us pass, but insisted that we join them! We were led over to one end of the table, sat down, and watched in surprise as plates were thrust in front of us: bread, rice, juice, stew of okra, tomato, lamb. None of them knew any English, and the few phrases of Arabic that we had learned fled my mind, so we ate in silence, smiling at each other. We did manage a few "shukran"s (thank you). I sat across from a couple young boys, and it was obviously strange and/or awkward for them. I doubt a white guy had joined them for breakfast before. Most people had finished eating by the time we got there; once we were done, the table was essentially deserted. As we got up to leave, pears were offered to both of us. Dessert.

We chalked up the outing as a success. It will remain documented only in our minds, but maybe that's enough.

I'll post the few meager pictures I allowed myself to hurriedly take. If anyone has any comments or suggestions on how to work through this issue, please share. I would be grateful to hear other perspectives.

Shopping

We bought water from a hole-in-the-wall shop, whose proprietor invited us into his other business just down the street: a perfume depot, family-owned for 130 years. Beautiful place literally out of another bygone era. They even served us tea.

The office.

Today was our first day at work at CEOSS, the Coptic Evangelical Organization for Social Services. A huge indigenous development organization, it has hundreds of employees and a wide range of programs. Their four departments are development (as in fighting poverty, not fundraising), micro-enterprise, cultural dialogue and publishing. We're hoping to have a hand in multiple areas, and visit some of the field sites where actual work is being done. Perhaps next week...?

We didn't do a whole lot today: primarily just followed our supervisor through the five-storey building and met everyone, promptly forgetting every name. Not quite everyone: between 50-60 people, so maybe 25%. Then they left us in our office to read annual reports, brochures, etc. while they figure out what to do with us.

It's probably going to be pretty low key for a while. Ramadan starts tomorrow, and it sounds like not much will get done the next month. But we're really excited to experience it. More on that soon!

The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities

A couple of days ago, Nate and I ventured to the Egyptian Museum. It's only a few metro stops from us, and a big tourist attraction, so it seemed like an easy early venture.

We left early in the morning with the hopes of finding a place to sit, have some breakfast, and read Al-Ahram, the weekly English version of the Egyptian Daily. Plus, we had woken up at 3:30 am that particular morning and hadn't been able to fall asleep again, so we thought we might as well seize the early parts of the day (something neither of us are generally too good at doing). We got out of the metro and began walking around, looking for a cafe. Since we were very close to the American University in Cairo, we thought there must be some places with a more western style breakfast around ... mmm not so much. There was a KFC, a McDonald's, a Hardee's (haven't seen one of those in a long time!), and a Pizza Hut ... but not a single bakery or Egyptian restaurant around. Not even many cafes were open, except for the ones that cater to the early morning sheesha (the Egyptian version of the water pipe, often filled with fruit flavored tobacco; also known as a hookah) crowd. We did pass by some more traditional Egyptian food stands on the street. One served fu'ul, a dish made from mashed chickpeas with onions and pickled vegetables on top, very tasty for a lunch or dinner treat, but a bit much for our over-sensitive morning stomachs. The other was serving ta'amyia, more commonly known by Americans as falafel, a fried ball made with chickpeas and served in pita.

Suffice it to say, Nate and I settled for an overly expensive croissant ($1.25) at the Hilton bakery. Sad, we know, but so it goes.

We finally made it to the museum around noon.

The Egyptian Museum has some incredible stuff -- things that all 6th grade history textbooks have pictures of. The best known pieces of their collection were probably all from the tomb of Pharaoh Tutankhamun, like his death mask on the right. They had statues and paintings from 3500 BC, mummies of animals from almost that long ago, and incredible Greco-Egyptian statues. Walking by these things, however, one would be hard pressed to tell if they were important or not. Many things were not enclosed in cases, the display cases that were there were dusty and had water stains, the majority of the items were simply numbered (not explained or captioned), and the museum was certainly not climate controlled. Aside from our tour book, which happened to have a section devoted to the museum, there was no way to make sense of the collection there. It's too bad that such incredible treasures are so easy to miss.

Photos!

Some people have asked, and we live to please, so here are a few scenes from our flat:













This, obviously, is the bedroom. You can't see the desk and two closets.













Here's the living room.



Our shower, as you can see, does not have a curtain. Or even a curtain rod, for that matter, so we can't even use the curtain we brought. So the entire floor is wet after every shower!



And the kitchen. We're fans of the antique stove/oven.

All American

We had met him earlier, but just recently got to talk at length with Dick, an older guy who lives in our building. He's lived in Cairo for six years, but speaks no Arabic and eats only American food. And actually seems proud of that... Most of the conversation revolved around (expensive) touristy things that he told us to do while in Egypt. It seemed that he has clung to the label of "tourist" with both hands, at least subconsciously. He doesn't actually live here in any real sense. It's probably best that he's leaving soon.

It made me laugh internally hearing him talk, but also fairly depressed. My countryman was a living, breathing stereotype. Some other expats we've met also speak little or no Arabic, despite having lived here for years. Milli and I aspire to be different.

Luckily, not all Americans working abroad are like Dick. That's my sister!

On the town

After a bit of a late start, we went on our first solo excursion yesterday evening. Leaving the flat after dark seemed a bit unwise at first, but it turned out that since Cairenes are late night people--even more so than New Yorkers--this was the perfect time to be out.

We got some small change at the grocery store, and then wandered around until we found our way to the Metro stop down the road. The streets were full of traffic, automotive and pedestrian, and the station was just as busy. After having three people jump ahead of us while standing at the ticket window, we bought our tickets. The subway was packed, like New York rush hour.

We got off at the Nasser stop, climbed the stairs and entered shopping madness. Clothing stores lined the streets, sidewalk hawkers stood on the curb with their ridiculous trinkets and fakes (we saw one guy selling sleeping masks - taken from Egypt Air!), and the mass of humanity reminded me of Times Square. We pushed and maneuvered our way down the street. Our heading was Midan Orabi, a traffic circle nexus with a lot of restaurants that sounded like a good place to eat.

We had a bit of trouble finding it, but our meandering gave us a nice glimpse of Cairene culture. During a call to prayer, a group of a couple dozen men stood in rows, the one in front chanting prayers. We must have passed 10-15 cafes with men smoking sheeshas (hookahs); it's something of a national obsession. Many outside restaurants were packed with people eating kushari (a popular fast food of macaroni and lentils) and drinking banana juice.

Finally we found a takeout restaurant mentioned in our guidebook. We strode up to the cashier's window and made him understand that we wanted ta'amiyya (falafel), one of the specialties of Akher Sa'a. It was LE1.50 for two pitas--about 30 cents--and quite good. Still a bit hungry we walked down the road to a kushari place, and split a small one. We sat on the end of a planter in the center of Midan Orabi and watched the people around us as we ate.

Not bad for a first outing.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

In our fight to reassemble a sensible sleeping schedule, I'm pretty sure someone's just laughing at us...

I hadn't slept much for a couple days, and when last night rolled around, again -- for some nonsensical reason -- I wasn't sleepy. Fortunately, after talking the usual drugs, I was out by 1:30.

Milli woke me up at 10, saying that breakfast awaited, that she'd been up for a while, and that I'd finally slept the good sleep. But nothing could move me. Finally, after prodding and poking me in vain for 20 minutes, she fell asleep next to me!

At noon, I woke up. Still tired, but determined to get up anyway, I read my emails and ate some of the mango Milli had cut up. Then went to wake up Milli. Through closed eyes she explained why this wasn't going to happen: "My muscles aren't working; all I can do is lie still and sleep." As I tried to prove otherwise, while dangerously lying down again, the inevitable happened and I succombed.

Now... it's 3:30pm. And we both just got up. Breakfast, anyone?

Daylight Savings

Daylight savings hit Egypt this morning. There was some confusion about it, as some thought it was tomorrow, others next week, and most thought it was at the end of the month. From what we've heard, Mubarak decided that Thursday night, rather than the normal time at the end of the month, was a better date for daylight savings to go into effect. Why the sudden change? As Ramadan (a month of fasting in the Islamic calendar) approaches, he hoped to gain popularity by shortening the daytime hours, thereby shifting to more optimal fasting hours (one hour less of awake fasting time).

Home.

So we're here, in what will become our home for the next year.

I'm not exactly sure what punctuation with which to end that last sentence, or what mood to adopt... Are we excited? Yes. Nervous? A little. Mostly just in shock, trying to process things and develop a new sense of normalcy. Oh - and TIRED.

Two future colleagues from CEOSS have gone out of their way and taken us under their wing. Picked us up at the airport, settled us into our new flat, took us out to dinner last night, and then to the grocery store. With more face time to come in the next week. A South African woman who lives on our floor has also been quite nice in orienting us to the building and neighborhood.

Our flat is on the second (read: third) floor of a building on the campus of the Ramses College for Girls, courtesy of the American Presbyterian Church. We're living here for free, which is awesome, especially given our small stipends at work. Actually, we found out they're not really that small: $200/month is not unusual. We spent a lot on initial groceries, but should be able to live within our means once we get settled.

I needed a toothbrush, so we purused the shops just outside the gates of our compound, and found one easily. It cost 3 pounds. (Conversion ratio: US$1 = 5.5 Egyptian pounds) I handed her a crisp E50 note. She shook her head. She couldn't make change. At the grocery store later that day I tried again. The toothbrushes there would probably cost more, but whatever. There was no price tag; it couldn't be that much. While looking at the receipt at home, we saw the price: 27 pounds. Over $4. Just for reference, that's the price of Milli's entree at our fancy Egyptian restaurant.

Right now, Milli and I are trying desperately to stay awake until evening, torturing our bodies into line. Our first day here, we napped most of the afternoon, were awake from about 10pm - 2am, and then slept again. Until 5pm the next day! Unfortunately, though expectedly, that made it quite difficult to get to sleep last night. We tossed and turned until after the sun came up, which left us under 3 hours of sleep. We'll see how long we can make it today before passing out...

"And I don't believe in cards, but I'll be leavin' soon ..."

After a whirlwind two days of packing our apartment up in NYC, driving a HUGE UHaul down to D.C., hitchiking our way to the airport in Baltimore, and driving up the Maine coast, we are finally, actually getting ready to leave for Cairo. We're spending our last night in Nashua, NH with my family before taking off tomorrow (Monday) for Egypt.

More to come soon, for now I have to pack. It's actually hard getting bags under the 50 lb limit.

-milli

p.s. -- For those of you who happen to check this soon, we're working at a place called CEOSS. It's a NGO based in Cairo that does development work across the spectrum. Check them out -- ceoss.org.eg.