Haga helwa wa haga wahesh. Good things and bad things. That's the one phrase I know how to say that somewhat describes to Egyptians both Amreeka (the U.S.) and my experience in Egypt. My first response to "how do you like Egypt?" is of course bahibla!(love it!), but longer conversing, I admit to some of the hard things. Certain parts of the culture I can only vent about to fellow Americans who understand where I'm coming from.
The helwa:
- Ah the food! Recklessly ignoring the warnings about eating salad in foreign countries, I snarf down the cucumbers and tomatoes whenever they are around. Hibiscus tea, felfales, Egyptian-types savory pancakes, moussaka, and piles of goey sweets whose names I immediately forget upon tasting. Just too swept away in love of the food. For those who know me well, you know of my love of food, and cooking in general. It's a delight each morning on the way to our Metro stop to weave through streets overloaded with the hubub of people, donkeys, microbuses, cats, and trash only to spot whole blocks filled with little fruit stands. The fooul carts appear in the morning, serving fooul (fava beans) mashed with lemon juice and some cilantro and cucumber salad on the side, served with bread. Bread--a flat, sourdough-ish, pita-type--is a staple at every meal, and I love to see a young man on his bicycle with a wooden rack balanced on his head, piled high with loaves upon loaves of this aaish.
- I've happened upon a trick to initiate conversation with strangers. While meeting Christians is easy to do each evening after returning to our church hostel/compound, meeting Muslims is more challenging than I thought it would be. So I sit on the Metro for at least 40 minutes each direction to go to class, and when I'm up to studying, I'll put out my handy arabic homework and attempt review. Most often, as I fight off the clenching heat and drips of sweat that form whenever the train stops for a moment, and try to be appropriately polite in keeping knees and bag to myself, I am the most interesting thing for strangers to watch. However, on a number of settings, my baby-level arabic is enough for some brave women to attempt to speak to me. One said she used to teach Arabic to foreigners and ardemently offered her phone number, inviting me to visit her in her home. Once an old woman (who may have been slightly off her rocker) kept trying to offer me one of her fooul sandwhiches. I honestly couldn't understand anything she was telling me, and the younger women around me could see this, and laughed along with me in my confusion. Laughter is my go-to for dealing with situations where all I can say is mish-Arfa. "I don't know!"
- there's more helwa than I can mention here--the history of Egypt, the grandeur of the Nile, the joking and relaxed way of most Egyptians. The hidden treasures I find when exploring downtown Cairo. I keep finding more.
Haga Wahesh:
- pollution to the nth degree, not being able to walk/run in public (I scared myself the other day when I realized I was out of breath slightly after just four flights of stairs...unusual for my active self).
- especially as a single woman, constant constant attention, although I've begun to venture out by myself and find that I have less harrassment this way than with a group from my SST. Perhaps I walk with more purpose and sternness, which is a good thing.
-how long it takes to get places in this huge city, and how slow change takes places in the country, as far as reforming anything or changing the public's mind. The current president, Mubarak, is best known for keeping a cap on a country about to explode--from the unhappy masses who deal with poverty and high levels of unemployment, to the religious disputes and persecutions, among other things.
Not wanting to leave on a pessimistic note, I can honestly say I'm grateful to be here. What an ironic position of priviledge I have, to be able to choose to come to this country and live among the poor. Jesus is the light of the world, and I try to remind myself each day to look for that light amidst the dust that fogs my vision. Like I've said before, it's beautiful chaos.
