Thanksgiving

Unlike on the way here, I don’t change shoes on the plane, I put on the far too warm sneakers right away in order to save room in my backpack. And I have the hooded sweatshirt and a jacket in my hand, haven’t worn it for two months though some air-conditioning had me longing for a sweater. Now I know it’s not mainly about the plane’s AC.

The hours before leaving are always a bit strange. I meet Ahmed for breakfast and then there is the in-between-hour. My host mother prepared a last Egyptian breakfast for me, all my bags are packed. I wake up my younger host sister to say goodbye. I am a little stressed out about my flights, so I don’t really have time to be sad right now. I take a taxi to the airport and am quite glad to completely manage this in Arabic without much effort. There are nearly three hours left until I am going to leave – and I am very lucky to be this early because I learn my flight has been cancelled. There are only three ladies working in the Lufthansa office, so I have to wait for one hour although I am the fifth person queuing for rebooking. Luckily I get on a SwissAir flight which will take me to Hamburg via Zurich less than one hour later than my original flight. While waiting at the gate I have an insightful conversation with a Swiss lady who has been living in Egypt for some 30 years and is married to an Egyptian. It is always interesting to talk to Europeans who have become outsiders towards Europe, but once again I feel that I could not imagine living like this. This time I did not forget my camera, but due to the rebooking I have a seat in the very middle of the 747, of course. This gives me time to successfully memorize the amino acids.

Although I did not have much of a classical vacation I feel very rearranged. I learned quite some Arabic, found my way around Cairo, saw a different health care system close up from the medical professional's perspective for the first time in my life and learned a lot about myself, especially by this second experience of really living abroad ten years after my exchange year.

My world has become smaller again in terms of both cultural and geographic distances: I will always feel kind of at home in Cairo and I have people to think of when places as distant as Madagascar, New Zealand or Tennessee are mentioned.

And my world has become bigger in the number of great people that I am fortunate to have in it.

Going back on the first Sunday of October, Thanksgiving in Germany, I have incredibly much to be grateful for.

And inshallah I’ll be back.

WEEK IX: Countdown

The last week is very busy as there are some things I still want to do before I leave (I don’t manage to get them all done) and most importantly I need to say goodbye to all my friends. To fit all these last times – last Bible studies, last service at All Saints, last coffee with Injy, with Reem, with Effat, last visit to my first host family – into only a few days I stay out quite late for the first time while living in Heliopolis. Traffic from downtown out here is just crazy, the streets seem even more crammed than at rush hour. The bus going even further out of the city, on the other hand is quite empty and although I am more or less the only woman I feel safe.

One of the things I did manage was buying a traditional Egyptian lamp at Khan-el-Khalili and visit Al-Azhar Park. My host sister Menan and I combine this as the park and the market are both in the neighborhood of the famous Al-Azhar mosque. After a nice long walk around the green park and some fun on the playground (where we and all the other young people are told to leave by the guards although no children are around), we walk down the hill on which the park is situated and after a while we find a small gate to leave for the market. As we step through the wall we once more enter a village within the city. Narrow sandy lanes with tall houses (not so rural) with fancy facades, open workshops (mainly furniture) on the ground floor, goats, chickens, dogs and cats running in the street, people eye us suspiciously and we are quite lost. An old man carrying the wooden skeleton of a big armchair asks us if we want to go to Khan-el-Khalili and then tells us to follow him criss-crossing through this maze of lanes and alleys and trying to avoid being run over by a motorcycle we reach the main street that leads to the market after a while. I find a nice hand-made copper lamp in the shape of a star and even manage to get it home safely, first in a crazy microbus, and later also on the plane.

 Classical tourists' view on Islamic Cairo from Al-Azhar park

 

 Al-Azhar Mosque

The approaching end of a longer stay is always a catalyst for being there in my experience. By really understanding that I will have to leave soon I appreciate what I had and have and the last days I’ll be there more and also makes me use them better. In this sense, too, it will probably good to come back not too far in the future in order to build on this.

For the first time I actually get the feeling that leaving here and getting back there will not only be easy. I always knew and on the other hand I know of some things I really miss and that I will be glad to have them back: Clean air, light evenings, cool nights and the freedom to wear what I want to name the most important ones.

I changed some habits, or am underway to do so, for example, I by now nearly as often mix up the y and z on my own keyboard as on the qwerty-keyboard of my host sister’s computer.

Languages II

Probably mainly interesting for philologists and linguists and free-time language fanatics, so skip this if you don’t count yourself to any of these groups, but looking back now, I see an interesting pattern in development of the hierarchy among my languages.

While at the language school I spoke some German to other students during the break and I read all 350 pages of my German chemistry book, but English has been the main language throughout the stay. I realized that I felt more comfortable with my English when speaking to Americans as opposed to either people with a heavy Arab accent or a very British pronunciation. And it obviously became my default language within the first two or three weeks: When I met Helma and her husband, a German couple in church I afterwards found myself remembering in English the conversation we had in German.

Always a funny experience, but not that unexpected. I was more puzzled by my Latvian popping up especially in the times when I was really focusing on Arabic. Many times I found myself thinking in Latvian and I got the impression that one year after my last visit in Latvia I would actually speak quite well and without a strong accent now (I missed the opportunity to try that by millimeters: a Latvian lady attended our service on my last day at church and I only hear of her after we left for lunch – one more reason to come back soon!). My wild theory is that in the course of trying to learn a new language my brain kind of opens up the last one I learned.

Less than a week before leaving I send my Latvian host mom a text for her birthday, she replies, I make some mental notes of what to write in an email to her – and find myself throwing in Arabic words with Latvian endings. I don’t realize at once because some expressions and the way they are used in Egypt and Latvia feel quite similar to me. Again, I’m not yet sure if it’s just me or if they actually are.

Korba

On the next weekend I get to know this popular part of Heliopolis by detour: There is an Anglican church here in which a new reverend recently took up his ministry. My congregation in Zamalek, were he served before that goes to visit him and his family after service. After a long drive we reach the compound including a small church, a house serving as vicarage and community hall and a patch of grass between them. The church has recently been renovated and a stone wall confines the whole assembly, creating a green oasis of peace and (relative) quiet in the city. We share food, play with the kids and talk enjoying the summer Sunday afternoon atmosphere.

The Anglican St. Michael's Church

After a good conversation with the reverends daughter I set off to explore the architecture and shops of this popular neighborhood. To begin with I find a place where I get very good ice cream in an even better cone! I walk around eating, still appreciating that Ramadan is over and I can have ice cream on a sunny summer afternoon and enjoy the beautiful buildings. After not finding anything much but books on (Christian) religion and Egyptian monuments (in English, Arabic and German) in a typical combination of book store and stationary shop, I once again end up in one of the big modern book shops, this time not Diwan, but Shorouk. Actually I like it even better. The air conditioning is not too cold, the music is very nice and there is a large children’s section. I am looking for voweled books, that means texts for early readers which include the small signs indicating the short vowels otherwise not written in Arabic script. I look at a book with large illustrations and some three sentences to each side. I am both surprised and exhilarated as I recognize the story to be set in Hamburg: The little girl asking whether it is supposed to be like that (that her canary died) is not walking through just any German park, it’s the Stadtpark with the landmark of a huge former water-tower now used as a planetarium. Of course, I have to get this book! I thoroughly look at the English section, especially the translations from Arabic, make some notes on which books to get later in Germany if possible as I don’t want to risk too much with the Lufthansa baggage limit. I also enjoy the rich display of modern well designed Arab books, though I cannot even understand the titles. I sit down for a while testing some English books I definitely need to get soon. When I feel up to some more walking in the sun and get up to leave the shop, I pass by an Arab copy of Hitler’s “Mein Kampf”. I saw this in another shop before, but it still horrifies me… Well. I still like the shop and wonder if I shouldn’t.

Korba - with somewhat confusing street signs: they both carry the same name pointing to different directions...

I get home to Sainte Fatima shortly before sunset. The light and the smell of small fires on wagons over which some men roast corn, instantly reminds me of Easter, springtime, the bonfires we make in Northern Germany in the Easter night. For some reason the whole evening has an air of a new beginning to it.

WEEK VIII: Beyond Barriers

I got some routine in the hospital by now, the days flow by with some special encounters in between. For the first time I get to talk to a woman who wears niqab, the additional piece of cloth which only leaves the eyes uncovered. I find it strange to choose this attire and it must be quite hot. I don’t really know anyone in favor of it, especially my veiled friends pointing out that it is not only not necessary, but also dangerous. The mother of a patient wears niqab. As long as no male doctors or nurses are around, however, she uncovers her face. I discover that I would not have been surprised if she had behaved in a reserved way towards me, white, unveiled, with short hair. But she is not, not at all. She speaks some English, I speak some Arabic, we talk about her child as would be the case between any mother and nurse assistant. Her husband holds the next surprise for me. From the couples I see in the street I expect a man with at least some beard, possibly a long one, possibly wearing galabeya, the traditional long dress or at least slacks. Wrong again, he is clean shaven and wears jeans and a polo shirt. You never know in advance…

Apart from special inter-cultural discoveries like this, other patients also keep on reminding me of one of the most rewarding aspects of direct clinical work. Even when not in charge of treatment, some short conversations while preparing food or after measuring blood pressure or the like are a kind of contact I enjoy and I think the patients also like these opportunities to share some part of their experience, of their life and not just being worked at. For me these short stories make it easier to see the whole person, not only the patient and – not only in Egypt – I also learn a lot about different ways of life and thinking, different kinds of work.

One patient speaks a mix of German and English with me. Until the fall of the Iron Curtain he had been working in the Egyptian Embassy in the GDR. He tells me many Egyptians like French, but say German is too sharp, he says, he likes exactly this point and he likes that everything in German (or Germany? I’m not quite sure what he means.) is clear and either white or black, not grey. At least that was how he knew it. Maybe it is not like that anymore, he says…

National Pride And Identity II: Striving Against The Wind

More indirect than the first part I wrote on this issue, but to me it seems to be a logical continuation of emphasizing the own country’s and people’s accomplishments. It is something I found in Injy’s speech at their graduation and I take it to be the spirit of media written by and for the educated Egyptians younger than 30 and I call it explicit ambition. People talk and write about what the urgent problems are, make some hands-on suggestions how to start doing something about it and call the reader to take on his or her share of the responsibility. Here I often find a mixture of an individualistic and a collectivistic approach. On the one hand they are encouraging the individual to trust in their individual capabilities and to work hard to accomplish everything possible and to even push further the boundaries of what is possible for YOU – something not completely unusual in German magazines either. On the other hand they stress the responsibility you have for the society you live in – regarding the future I am familiar with this logic, too – and partly also base this on the great accomplishments made by Egyptians for the good of the whole country or even beyond in the past quite often, to the conclusion that this is the standard to meet and finally: “We are Egyptians, we can do it!” Needless to say, this logic is still out of order in Germany.

Another fundamental difference I see is that many of my Egyptian friends and as far as I understand most of the young people involved in the revolution are really determined to do everything they can and work as hard as possible to make a change, both for themselves and their country. I am not quite sure whether this is mainly due to the very problematic situation in many domains of life and society or to a stronger sense of community. Or maybe a combination of both.

However, I also see the downside of a tumultuous time which offers both opportunities and chances for a better future, but also risk and uncertainty. It can be very stressful to be driven by large problems and narrow time windows. But at least it gets you somewhere. I still am grateful that I don’t have to fight for the things people in Egypt have to or my parents’ generation did in Germany. Here we have the task of maintaining and modernizing ideals which may be more subtle, but just as important. In any case, it is less dangerous.

As I post this article Egypt has gone through another series of riots and many freedom fighters have lost their lives. They must not be forgotten.

WEEK VI and VII: Life in Heliopolis

I am going to spend the second month of my stay in the heart of Heliopolis, a beautiful and relatively calm quarter in the north east of Cairo which was started by Belgians in 1905, their traces are still to be seen in the eclecticistic architecture in the oldest parts of it. My host family lives in one of the apartment blocks around St. Fatima Square. The red brick stone church of St. Fatima is a landmark, but only one of many beautiful churches in the area. Here broad streets are lined by many different small shops, the houses are not too high and there are quite a lot of nice trees compared to many other parts of the city. It’s easy to enjoy life here.

And it’s nice to have an everyday rhythm and especially nice to thus have some fresh air and what is my ideal summer temperature when leaving the house around seven in the morning. At least in the shade of houses and trees it is probably not warmer than 25 degrees. Not many people are going anywhere at this time, but a calm constant activity is underway along the streets, mainly men washing cars. Not their own ones, to be clear. They are the porters, the bawaabs, an Egyptian institution. Every apartment house I know has a bawaab. He has an eye on who enters and leaves the building, takes care of the garbage and sometimes he would run some errands for the people who live in the building and pay him. And he cleans the cars – very often, probably necessary in the dusty air of Cairo – and rearranges them in the always scarce parking space.

It is also good to live in a family again and share food and thoughts or just company while reading and studying with nice people on a daily basis. Sometimes we go out in the evenings to visit relatives or my host sister and I go to a café and drink juice in the comfortable evening warmth.
After a week in the hospital a Wednesday afternoon, my Friday equivalent, spent at the club with my host sister and her friends is the first part of a deserved and relaxing weekend. Luckily the Wednesday is the women’s afternoon in the pool of the large sports club Ash-Shams (The Sun) my host family belongs to – it has close to a million members and the elections of its board get mentioned on local television. I finally get the possibility for some exercise in the fifty meter swimming pool sparkling in the warm sun. When the women’s hours are over we go to the sauna, 63 degrees centigrade it says, nice and relaxing, not really hot.

The next thing on this weekend is the graduation of two friends! There are about 500 graduates in their year and the ceremony is held in a huge hall of Cairo International Conference Center. To me their caps and gowns look American, but they do not perceive it as something new or foreign, they are rather astonished that we don’t have this in Germany. I do understand Injy’s speech on as a student representative, the rest is in Arabic, so I am free to watch and listen to the name combinations as every graduate is called to collect his certificate from the principal and his board. A complete Arabic name consists of the names of father, grandfather and great grandfather in paternal lineage. Quite often names repeat themselves within these sets.

 Tossing their caps

As a conclusion to this weekend I spend what feels like a perfect Sunday (actually it’s Friday, of course). After the service we have lunch at a traditional Yemenee restaurant in Doqqi (only the ride there was one of the less nice experiences with Cairo taxi drivers, he didn’t know even the medium sized streets of the area, but wouldn’t admit it and also wouldn’t take directions…). The lunch in an exceptionally large group including some kids is also a first stage of saying farewell as one of the friends I met here will go to Europe for some weeks after a few days, so I will only see her again in 2012, inshallah.

After lunch I meet Ahmed, one of the new graduates and we go to one of the clubs, as he is half Australian, it’s the Australian club in Mohandeseen. We drink juice in the shade of the high trees update each other on what’s been going on in our lives and darkness, as always, astonishes me as it falls early and quickly. We return to Zamalek to see a marionette Beatles concert at El Sawy Culturewheel culture center. This center has been bringing high quality music, art, discussions and workshops at a reasonable price to this part of the city since 2003. The marionette playback show also is hilarious, the half professional puppet players do a great job in getting the Fab Four back on stage, true to the extent of such details as Ringo’s head movements. The evening ends cheerfully with some more friends at a small waffle shop (besides the common toppings they melt your favorite chocolate bar on a waffle, now, don’t Egyptians know how to eat?).

New Year’s Editorial feat. My Blog is carbon-dioxide-neutral

I finished writing my Egypt blog in Egypt, but didn’t post the last entries there as we had some

problems with the internet connection. Then I was absorbed by my studies, but as I don’t like to leave things unfinished and my father actually wanted this blog to be finished as his Christmas present and sent the link to my parents’ friends in their Christmas Letter, I use this last free day to complete the report on my stay in Cairo

AND to support the German project “Mein Blog ist CO2-neutral” (my blog is carbon-dioxide-neutral). It is one of the projects of the “Kauf-da” (“buy there”) campaign aiming at facilitating sustainability in everyday life and at saving a million trees. One of their approaches is distributing mail box stickers (for the real paper ones, you know) asking not to deliver any advertisement papers which make for 33 of the 250kg of paper every German uses per year. While blogs obviously don’t use up a lot of paper they do require electricity. For every blog participating in this project Kauf-da plants a tree which will neutralize the carbon dioxide emissions caused by a blog in the period of fifty years.

In closing this I wish you all a great 2012 and I recommend this project to every German-speaking blogger and the whole page to everyone who made the New Year’s resolution to live a greener life!