Rare Sighting

This is the first and probably only time I have escalated a Minbar, the pulpit in a Mosque. We figured that because it was no longer a functioning mosque, and because I have heard urban legends of Coptic priests giving nationalists sermons from the minbars of mosques, I figured the rules might be flexible. I didn't give any speeches, didn't proclaim anything, just went up, posed, and came back down. Even though its not an active mosque, let me know if you happen to know if this flies in the face of Islamic tradition, and I will be happy to remove this post. It's a nice photo, but not that nice if it is offensive.

Hassan Mosque and Madrassa

This is one of the most beautiful Mosques I have seen. Built in the mid 14th century, this Mamluk mosque is the biggest in Cairo. I took about forty photos of this amazing courtyard, in the middle is the structure for ablutions (washing before prayer) which currently housed some pigeons as the mosque is no longer used for religious purposes (hence the lack of a veil).Those arches are incredibly high, maybe fifty feet, but I am terrible at approximating. Hanging from the top of the arches were long chains which extended to about ten feet above the ground, holding small lamps.

A Letter to Dr. Rice

To The Honorable Dr. Condoleezza Rice, United States Secretary of State:

I remember where I was when I got the news that I would be traveling to Egypt on a Fulbright Grant. I was coming back from a Dentist appointment when I got a phone call from my roommate, Meghan, who excitedly told me that I had a big package from the International Institute of Education. "YOU HAVE TO OPEN IT!" I shouted excitedly at her. "I DONT WANNA DO IT!" she retorted, giggling nervously at the prospect of giving me bad news, but clearly confident from the big fat envelope in her hands. I was relentless, standing still in the middle of the sidewalk crossing my fingers and holding my breath. I heard the rustling of paper, and a happy yelp followed by "YOU GOT IT!" I screamed and began to jump up and down in diag of the University of Michigan. "I'M GOING TO EGYPT ON A FULBRIGHT!!!" I had the honor to be a United States Fulbright Grantee, a culture ambassador from my country to Egypt, and an integral part of the puzzle to promoting mutual understanding and peace in our world. Four months after this news, I got to travel to Egypt, thanks to your Department of State.

Dr. Rice, I am sure I don't need to tell you of the seven Fulbright Grantees who earned the award, but who have been deprived of their right to carry out their Fulbright grant. Just like me, these students met the rigorous academic, social and political requirements to bear the title of a Fulbright Grantee. The only difference is that these seven students are Palestinian, their home is Gaza, and their dream was to study abroad in the United States. They passed the grueling application process of the Fulbright Grant, they were honored with the title of Cultural Ambassador, and were given the responsibility of promoting understanding between the United States and Palestine. But the continued Israeli military control of Gazan borders has deprived these students of both their human right of free movement, and also their rights as US Fulbright Grantees to fulfill their dream and study abroad at an American University.

Dr. Rice, I am sure you know the story of the Fulbright Grant. Senator J. William Fulbright established the grant after the atrocities of World War Two, concluding that the human race could not afford to not live in peace, and that a World War Three would undoubtedly be the end of all mankind. Since 1946, Fulbrighters have been defeating national stereotypes, promoting mutual understanding, and attempting to defuse political tensions by operating on a person-to-person level. Dr. Rice, your State Department recognizes this program of exchange as an integral part of our foreign policy. My question, Dr Rice, is since when did the United States allow another country to arbitrarily prevent our efforts of diplomacy and foreign policy? It is true that we have historically sided with Israel, turning more than a few blind eyes to unjust policies, but we usually have done so in the spirit of "What is good for Israel is good for the United States." The United States has the muscle to change Israeli policies if we really wished to do so. But the travel prohibition for the Palestinian Fulbright Grantees questions this traditional American-Israeli relationship, or at least questions the Bush Administration's value of diplomacy. Dr. Rice, the refusal to allow these students to travel to the United States violates the American Fulbright Program, violates your sovereignty over American foreign policies, and it should not be taken lying down. This is not another example of the United States supporting Israeli policies, rather, this is unprecedented kowtowing which directly damages the United States and its foreign policy. If this administration would like to pretend that it places some value in both the Fulbright Program and in building a respectful relationship with Palestinians, I suggest that you put up a fight and stand up for what is right. Dr. Rice, as a Fulbright Grantee, I am asking you to give these Palestinians the honor which they have earned. But as an American citizen, I am begging you to do what is right for our country, and to not let the unjust actions of a foreign government derail American efforts towards peace.

My First Girlfriend

I am so excited. I think I have made my first real girlfriend in Egypt. Sure, I have made lots of contacts with women for my research, and a few other fantastic women have taken me under their wings, but I think this is my first real Egyptian girl buddy. For whatever reason, it has been harder to make friends with Egyptian women, so this is has been so delightful for me. Well, maybe I am getting ahead of myself. She is actually my tutor, but yesterday we had a lovely outing and I think we may have bonded. To properly introduce her, I should also say that she is an excellent teacher. In addition to being an excellent Arabic language teacher, she has also done extensive Islamic studies (graduating from the top Islamic seminary, al-Azhar University) and has been very patient with my slow, stumbling Quranic recitations. She had asked me if I wouldn't mind going with her to an information seminar on the Fulbright grant, as she is interested in studying in the United States. I happily agreed, and we scheduled our outing for Tuesday. Then somehow it came up that she loved to crochet, and I excitedly burst out that I loved to knit, and she firmly suggests that we go together to the crafts store after our trip to Fulbright.

After checking out the Fulbright Commission, we took the metro to the neighborhood of Shubra--no relation--and we begin to stroll in the sunshine. We try to think of some good projects for her to propose for her Fulbright application, and while I was pensively listening to her thoughtful description of America as a place where all nationalities, cultures, and races mix together and how she would love to study there, I some how slipped on a bottle cap. I teeter-totter for like 3 seconds desperately grabbing on to my new friends silk dress, frantically clutching whatever I could get my hands on (turned out to be her hip) while she gasps and tries to catch me. Somehow, I regain balance and begin to gush out apologies, hoping I haven't ruined our afternoon, but she is too concerned with me to even blink. From then on, my hand was held tightly as we crossed the streets.

We went and stopped for nuts, a popular street snack here, and eventually wandered to the shop. I picked out a soft green and cream for a scarf, and picked up a set of needles. Knitting in Arabic is "Tatreko", but this sounds like a European word that somehow slipped into the lexicon. Crochet is, well, crochet. Wool is "Soof", where the term "Sufi" comes from to describe an adherent of Sufism, or Islamic Mysticism. The store owner was very curious about me, and I could hear him ask my friend where I was from, if I was Muslim, if I liked Bush etc. I jumped in, as I am used to these questions, and he loved that I called Bush a donkey (himar, standard for idiot) and used the phrase "the time has come" for Bush to leave office. I didn't think twice of this conversation as I have had in hundreds of times, but my tutor was very embarrassed and apologized. I reassured her that I really didn't mind, and then we talked about how Egyptians are pretty good at separating their opinions of a government from opinions of a people, i.e. We may not like Bush, but you Americans are a-okay. Its always funny, because even if I didn't vote for him, we still collectively elected him. Sometimes I think that Egyptians give Americans more credit than we may deserve in terms of distancing us from our politics, after all, until November, this catastrophe is apparently the will of the people.

We finished off our outing with two glasses of sugar cane juice, and it was as delicious as it sounds. I will be finished with my tutoring this upcoming week, but I hope that my new friendship will continue. We may not have slumber parties, but I hope that we will have some knitting parties. Knit, pearl, politics, and culture, I can already tell that I am learning a lot from my new friend, as long as I watch out for the bottle caps.

Random Acts of Kindness

So there is this student group at Michigan whose name is something like, Students for Random Acts of Kindness." (Pause to retrieve your motion sickness bag). If you can't tell, I have two issues with this group. The first is that having an organized group for random acts of kindness doesn't make sense. "This week we are going to schedule a random act of kindness for 3:30. Be there or be a bad person". The second ridiculous thing about this group is that its kinda like the group of "students against cancer". Really? Do you need to mobilize a group in order to combat the students against random acts of kindness? Do they have debates? Anyways, the reason I bring all of this up is that I felt it due time that I record some of the true random acts of kindness I have witnessed here in Egypt, the unscheduled, unorganized kind.

Scenario One: Baby-swap on Subway. I have now seen this scenario a few times, and it never ceases to amaze me. The subway will be packed, and some poor mother or father will be holding a big bag (or a baby) and will also have a walking, yet unstable toddler by their legs. Their stop arrives, and it is clear that it is impossible to pick up the child, but it is also equally impossible for the small child to battle the oncoming traffic of entering passengers. Without anyone asking, and without the need for consent to be granted, a perfect stranger who is also getting off will pick up the child and get off the car with the toddler, handing the child back to his or her parent once they are on the platform. Seriously, can you imagine this happening in the States? Can you imagine a perfect stranger, picking up your child on the New York Subway without asking you? And can you imagine him not running off with his kidnapped prize? Can you imagine all of this going down with such a casual attitude that it is as if your brother had held the door open for you, and not that a dude you don't know had picked up your 2 year old in a very busy underground subway? I can't decide what is more impressive, the fact that these strangers casually help these struggling parents, or the fact that these parents welcome the offered help.

Scenario Two: When George and I were in Alexandria, we got a little turned around looking for the train station. As we were trying to straighten ourselves out, we found ourselves trapped in a parking lot where the cars were bumper to bumper. As we jumped over the cars as best as we could, I realized we weren't alone. Two other women, both Egyptian, were also a bit trapped. They were much older than us, and one of them was in quite the pickle. I offered her my hand to help her slide over the car, and the car began to buckle under her weight. When she made it over with my help, I said "al-hamdulillah" (thank god!) and she went nuts. She was tickled to death that I not only knew arabic, but also the favorite phrase of most Egyptians. She asked me where we were going, and I told her we were looking for the train station, and she firmly grabbed my hand and informed me that she and her friend, Fifi, would lead us there. She and Fifi were delighted to find out that George was an engineer, and forgave him for knowing limited Arabic. She didn't let go of my hand until we got to the station, and I had to convince her that from there we would be able to find our train just fine.

I have a feeling Fifi and co. don't belong to any clubs promoting Random Acts of Kindness. It just seems to come naturally. Of course not all seemingly friendly acts here are truly kind, many are attached to the hope of "baksheesh" or a tip. But most of them aren't, and woe to the foreigner who tries to tip those who are only seeking to help their fellow man. I think Fifi would have smacked me up if I had insultingly attempted to tip. Luckily for all parties involved, I recognized their help as a random act of kindness, even without their formal club membership.

Simplicity

So I saw I wonderful thing today. I was walking down one of the side streets near my house, when I saw a horse cart amidst the bumper to bumper traffic. Horses and donkeys are prevalent enough here to not be that surprised to see one, but its always nice seeing a friendly face instead of a hubcap. However, this horse was quite preoccupied. Oblivious to the honking horns and the suffocating exhaust, he was happily munching on a watermelon. His owner must have left the sweet treat, cracked in half, for his beast of burden to enjoy. The horse had finished off the first half, greedily sucking at the delicious watermelon juice remaining at the bottom of the hollowed out half. Really, who doesn't love watermelon on a hot afternoon? That horse definitely made my day. If you think this entry was completely worthless, at least learn three new Arabic words. Bateekh is watermelon. Hissawn is horse, and Mabsoota is Pauline, i.e. happy.

A Lewis in Tunis

At the end of April, I had the amazing opportunity to travel to Tunis for a Fulbright Regional Conference. This was my first time to Western Northern Africa, or what we call in Arabic the "Maghreb", which means the western place. Like most countries in this region, and really in the world, Tunisia has a number of competing identities as a result of being the home of various civilizations.The Phoenicians, the Romans, the Arabs, and the French all left their mark on this small but beautiful land, and these various civilizations still live amongst the Tunisians today. Ruins from the ancient empires still stand tall, and Tunis/Carthage apparently holds the most intact Roman Mosaics of any former part of the Empire. Arabic and French are both national languages, and the secular nature of this Muslim country also reveals this dual-history. Tunisians assumed that we spoke French, and when we busted out the Egyptian Arabic, it brought lots of smiles and laughs. The popularity of Egyptian cinema and music in the region allows for Egyptian Arabic to travel pretty much anywhere, so at least they could understand us. My batting average was about .500 with the Tunisian dialect, the part I couldn't understand sounding like French with an Arabic accent and proved to be ultimately unintelligible.

In addition to my excitement to be in Hannibal's hometown, I was wrapped up the beauty of the architecture and exterior design of the buildings. Clearly a long way from Cairo, most of the buildings were white with blue accents, and the intricately designed doors were amazing. These are a few of the 300 photos I took of the beautiful scenery, and I believe that the Tunisian government should pay me for all of the times I mention how lovely the country is. please see tunisiatourism.gov for more information about your next trip to Tunisia.


This was all the backdrop for the conference, where about forty Fulbright students from the region came together to present their projects and meet their peers. Coming from Egypt, Syria, Israel, the U.A.E, Kuwait, Morocco, Tunisia, and Jordan, everyone had an interesting story to tell and a lot of shared experiences from living abroad for almost a year. People seemed to get more comfortable with one another by the end of the time there, ending the early posturing and academic banter that had tainted the first part of the conference. Once we all relaxed and realized we had nothing to prove, with the help of Tunisian beer and the spicy red sauce called "hirassa" we actually were able to learn something from one another.

Overall, it was a great trip and as usual, I couldn't help but learn a few things. Number One: Tunisians are very friendly. Number Two: Their food is amazing, I think I had more tuna than I have had since third grade. Number Three: Those Romans made a damn good mosaic. Number Four: You won't ever hear Tunisians criticizing their government. This was interesting to note, coming from Egypt, where the government is tyrannical, and there is a lot of censorship, but even on pain of imprisonment, Egyptians still speak out. Despite the beautiful facade, Tunisia is definitely no democracy, and there are a lot of problems that I would have enjoyed hearing our Tunisian colleagues discuss. Maybe the next trip. Either way, the doors were beautiful, the food delicious, and I hope that this Lewis will be in Tunis another time soon.

Finding Faith

There are many things similar about the American South and Cairo, Egypt. Many of both populations are religious, family orientated, and generally conservative about maintaining time honored traditions and ways of life. As a Unitarian, I often felt out of place growing up in Nashville, where not believing in Christ as my savior was often puzzling and tantamount to having a third arm. I even found myself repulsed by the concept of organized religion, as I felt it proved to be more exclusive and aggressive than inclusive and understanding. But life in Egypt has changed me. You can't escape religion here. It is not reserved in a special box of secularism to only be opened with caution. The call to prayer has become a sound of comfort, signaling the passing of the day and marking a time for reflection. Stores closing briefly to allow the owner to pray has become common place, and becoming comfortable with people praying in front of you has been a long struggle that I am just now winning. Partaking in the breaking of fasts, being invited (and declining) to witness the slaughtering of a sacrificial sheep, and striving to understand and learn about the religion of 1.2 billion Muslims, I have found myself engulfed in religion. In this environment of faith, I have absolutely become more spiritual. I believe it is inevitable in this country, and not because Muslims are forcing their religion upon me. Quite the contrary, the clear line that they draw between what is their religion, and what is mine, has made me more inclined to understand their faith. I never felt that respected by Christian evangelicals I encountered in America. Religion here is a common topic of conversation, a daily habit, but not something that is forced. Of course, every religion has its crazies. I am sure that at some point I might encounter the extreme Muslim who will not respect that line, but I think it says a lot that so far I have not. Religion may be a public matter, but its a personal decision. I feel that finally, in the middle of this Muslim land, I have truly found my own Unitarian faith. Not only do I find that I understand my own religion better, and that of my current neighbors, but I feel like I have finally gained an insight on religious America. After all, religion is religion, and faith is faith. I can't help but laugh that it took the Muslims to teach a Unitarian about the Christians and that it might take the Unitarians to unite the Christians and Muslims. Just trying to make Ralph Waldo and Adlai proud.

The Art of Catching Lizards

Is there an art to catching lizards? Probably, but I certainly am not blessed with it. I am currently lying in bed, staring at the ceilings, waiting for the pink little lizard that I saw dart across my wall 20 minutes ago. I didn't scream, even though my heart leaped out my chest, and I calmly called for my roommate to come and help me catch a lizard. "A WHAT?!" she exclaims? I ask her to get a pot, but then we realize that a lizard might be slightly harder to catch than your garden variety pest, and so we arm ourselves with towels (as if that makes sense). I put on some winter gloves, as we couldn't find our rubber ones, and begin to shake my backpack that I believe it is hiding under. My roommate stands on the bed, waving my red towel like a matador, but she is self-admittedly less excited for the moment of truth. I said I think the lizard might be in the bag, and we prepare ourself for screams. I shake the bag, and sure enough, the lizard jumps out and on cue, we scream. High pitched girly screams that don't match either of our characters, we scream and leap almost as high as the poor lizard. He retreats under the bed, which much to our chagrin, is complicated by a big purple mattress. We convinced ourselves that a little lizard was nothing to fear, after all, had we been out on the pavement of Florida it would have been nothing to scream at. Had the lizard gotten out of its cage in 6th grade biology, and we had had to catch it and return it to its proper habitat, there wouldn't have been that shrill pitch. But we weren't in Florida, nor in 6th grade life sciences. We were in Cairo, in my bedroom, and we wanted to sleep. So after a fruitless search, rummaging through the various items on my floor, and after scouring the ceiling, walls, and corners of my room, I decided to go to bed. After all, its only a lizard. In fact I am encouraged that he has disappeared for good as I am now combating a house fly, and something tells me my ex-roommate wouldn't let that stand on his watch.