Don't Know French? That Makes Two of Us

Hey everyone,

In case you are like me and therefore don't know French, the wonderful Hillary Walker has translated the article for us. I have copied her translation below. She gets the DukeEngage Award of the Day for this, if I do say so myself.

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In Cairo, Somali Children Start a New Life

Thiis summer, young African refugees living in Cairo are attending English, computer and Arabic classes in a school financed by the Red Cross. Some of them live on their own in Egypt, without their family.

On the third floor of a run-down building, some snippets of English escape through the open door. "Hello, my name is Degaa. I am 18 years old. I was born in Mogadishu; I arrived in Egypt in 2001." One by one, each student stands and introduces him/herself. Their voices drown out the noise from the street where the tuk-tuks – motorized rickshaws – zigzag among the passer-bys, bread deliverers on bike, and hookah smokers. A sizeable Somali community lives here, in Ardilewa, a disadvantaged neighborhood in Southwest Cairo.

This Tuesday, there are twenty boys and girls attending an English class in a Somali community center. Focused, their eyes are riveted on Lindsey and Fernando, two American students from Duke University in North Carolina; all the teachers – volunteers – come from Duke. Despite their focus, the students readily giggle at their trip-ups when counting backwards in English.

For seven weeks, a hundred African refugees, aged 12-21, are participating in this summer school financed by the Red Cross and organized by NGOs that provide aid for refugees in Cairo. Grouped together by nationalities, young Somalis, Sudanese, Eritreans or Ethiopians mainly take English courses, but also have computer and Arabic classes. They attend information sessions on the rights of refugees, health and nutrition. Excursions on felucca rides, visits to the National Cairo Museum or a day in the park are also in the program.

The American Dream is still popular

"I want to discover a new culture through English", attests Ifrah, a shy young 17 year old girl, veiled, who sits up straight in her long black robe. During the year, she attends a public Egyptian school.

Her sister Fartoum, 12, is also present in the class. They arrived from Somalia in 2006, with their uncle, himself the father of seven children. Ifrah says she has no memory of her parents. "Later, I would like to go the United States and become a doctor," she adds The American dream is still popular among the Somali youth.

The program is primarily aimed at unaccompanied minors who live on their own in Egypt. This is the case of Osmane, a slender 17-year-old who arrived in Cairo one year ago. "I live in an apartment with three other Somalis. I would like to learn a job. Maybe a mechanic, I would like that." As for his family, he does not draw out the topic: his parents are dead and he has lost all contact with his sister.

We're better off in Egypt than in Somalia: here, there is peace

Among the hundreds of thousands on African refugees who live in Egypt, there are some hundreds of unaccompanied minors. "The majority arrive in Egypt alone. Their parents have disappeared or can no longer care for them," explains Chantal Hudson, an official in the Department for Minors of the British NGO AMERA (Africa and Middle East Refugee Assistance) – an NGO that furnishes legal aid to African refugees in Cairo.

"Once they are registered with the United Nations High Commissioner on Refugees (UNHCR), the minors receive 400 pounds a month (55€ / $70), free medical care and legal protection." As Egyptian policemen regularly stop African migrants, this protection is precious: it can save a refugee from being sent back to their country of origin.

Life in Cairo, where racism against blacks is common, is far from idyllic for these teens. "One time, someone insulted me in the street because I am black," testifies Zeinab, 18 years old. "But often, the people are nice. In any case, we're better off in Egypt than we are in Somalia: here, there is peace," she concludes, before hitting the books again.

- Nina Hubinet, in Cairo

"Malesh" by Andi and Hillary

Chaos. If we had to describe Cairo in a phrase, it would be ubiquitous chaos. And, while this makes for a very interesting and enjoyable cultural experience, it also means that in order for most things to work out the way you want them to, it usually takes an act of God. Consequently, we quickly made the acquaintance of our good friends “malesh” and “insh’allah”.

“Malesh” is a much-used Egyptian phrase that translates as “no problem”. Closely linked to malesh, is the Muslim phrase “Insh’allah” which means “God-willing”. These two phrases are heard everywhere in Egypt. We began using the phrase “malesh culture” to describe Egyptian culture because daily hiccups in plans are inevitable in the chaos of Cairo.

An example of this would be the first Wednesday of classes when we had planned (and been clearly told that it would be possible) to watch the US-Algeria World Cup match on the community center’s TV with our students and to have the other Downtown site over. However, ten minutes before the match we discovered that the center did not get the channel with the game and all of our plans were shot. Our community facilitator Muhammad then jumped in, and we all followed him around Cairo in hopes of finding a coffee shop that could accommodate seventeen people. As usual, everything worked out wonderfully and our students enjoyed watching the game with a pack of fifty Egyptians at an outdoor café.

After this very malesh incident, we realized that we were the only people who had been bothered by this unexpected chain of events. The “can do” Western attitude with which we had grown up is at complete odds with the malesh culture. In the West, we want to be able to control and predicate every moment instead of just letting things flow. We are scared of being wrong, messing up, getting sick because we believe that those things get in the way of our lives. In actuality, that fear-inducing mentality gets in the way of living.

This prompted Andi to remark that she had read that language reflects the culture around it. She admitted that since the first day of Arabic 1, she had been perplexed with the popularity of the phrase Insh’allah because to her Western mind it always seemed a rather fatalistic statement. For example, why couldn’t a simple question like “Do you want to go to the movies tomorrow?” by sufficiently answered with yes or no. Andi’s remarks also reflected my previous mindset. After that conversation, we made a decision to let the Western impediments melt away and since then, slowly, we have found ourselves adapting to and even enjoying the malesh culture.

So, we were prepared for our next malesh moment. It was a week later and we had spent the hour before stressing about readying materials for class (the printer ran out of ink). Four p.m. rolled around, and we began to wonder where the man with the key to our classroom was. We continued waiting until 4:15, when we finally ended up calling him. At 4:30, he returned the call and finally let us know - half an hour after class was supposed to start - that he wouldn’t be coming in with the key.

For a brief second, our Western selves panicked. “What to do?” our minds screamed. Then, the malesh set in and we decided to take an impromptu felucca ride with the class. The hiccups that followed seemed negligible. We had to lead a class of about sixteen refugees through the congestion known as Tahrir Square to the Nile. Malesh. When we arrived, the felucca driver told us he could only fit twelve people on a boat. Malesh, we got all twenty plus the driver on it. Ten minutes later, we were sailing along the Nile, dangerously low to the water. Malesh. Instead of stressing, we all found ourselves enjoying the situation.

Now, when mysterious air conditioning fuel drips on us or when we unknowingly buy and eat liver from a street vendor, we find ourselves saying “Malesh” and truly meaning it. We have fully adjusted to this Egyptian mentality, at least we hope so. Insh’allah

Beyond

Dear Faithful Readership,

I'm back. It's been far too long. I've been trying to give other DukeEngagers a chance to reflect on the blog...that, and I have been too exhausted to write anything coherent. With a light weekend fading behind me, and a two-hour nap tucked in there today, I now write to you.

The Zohan has asked us to either post pictures and describe them or write about something that surprised us in our week this week. I'll top that. I'll do both. But first, let me describe the title of this post. A few weeks ago- I think it was about the same time that Hannah and Hillary posted about the Luxury of Theory- I was going to write something titled "To Ambivalence and Beyond." A reference to Toy Story 3, which came out that weekend, it was about how I'd moved past my frustration that I described in my previous posts and how I had come to "embrace the chaos" of Cairo (thank The Great Andrew Simon for that nugget of goodness).

Essentially, I discovered that people like myself are products hearing "Can't Isn't In My Vocabulary" too many times. Our successes so far in life have been spawned by the positive self-image that President Obama so eloquently picked up on in his 2008 campaign: the "Yes We Can" philosophy. Our votes matter; our voices matter; our abilities can indeed bring about change. However, I had to shed myself of all these ideas that I could instigate change or success, instead hugging tight the pessimistic notion that I could not succeed whatsoever. This way, every little thing seems like a victory. It is a hyper-cynical concept- one very foreign to me, and I find myself to be quite a cynic in the first place- and I don't think it's a good life philosophy, but it works for NGO work in Cairo. Once you can put forth an attitude of ambivalence towards the obstacles you face here, everything immediately brightens up. I call it my “Small Victories” philosophy.

Thus, we get to the "beyond" part. Now weeks after changing my mindset, I feel better. I have not had difficulty in dealing with the world around me, save nearly being mauled by the clowder of feral cats a few nights ago as I emptied the trash. I have enjoyed teaching more, enjoyed my NGO work more, and have enjoyed this experience more once I took a step back and realized that I might not be able to have the same profound effect I expected to have.

Having caught you up to speed, what was it, then, that surprised me this week? How my beautiful patience has been worn so thin. I genuinely am marveled by how patient and outgoing I have been over the past three weeks. Sure, I complain about things just as much as the next guy (if not more) but I still keep my nose to the grindstone. But eventually the grindstone, well, grinds you down. This week, after one of the worst days ever (the kids at I the Egyptian were truly too much for me to bear; I decided that if Dante wrote the Inferno about DukeEngage Cairo, I'd be put in the circle with hundreds of uncontrollable 2-9 year olds), I snapped at my students in English class.

Let me lay it out for you: we were playing a game where they split into two teams, and they decided not to listen to me when I split the teams. This is a usual occurrence, so no big deal, right? Wrong. That day they decided to pick on the adorable, socially-awkward six-year-old. The boys on either team kept shouting at each other and at him about how he was on the other team; eventually, the boys started pushing the poor kid to either side like neither of the teams wanted him. I didn't tolerate it. I didn't tolerate it because 1) I identify with little kids that get made fun of and there just ain't no way I'm going to let it happen to someone else, 2) I was a socially-awkward kid (and I guess I still am), 3) because this boy is particularly sweet to me, 4) because I couldn't muster up enough patience to deal with it any other way. In beautifully correct Arabic, I told them to sit down and that he is on Team 2. When one of my students decided to mock Team 2, I spun around and told him to "Sit! Here!" and there was immediate action followed by immediate silence. Of course, I didn't yell or do anything wrong; I merely used a surprisingly stern voice and all of my 6'5" frame. Plus, I did the right thing. Rule #1: No picking on kids in my classroom.

But I was still surprised. Where had this come from? I love teaching these kids. In the Ain Shams Dynamic Duo, I am the carrot and Maheen is the whip. How had I transformed? Had I assimilated into the Egyptian culture, where arguing and shouting is a daily occurrence, or had a part of the American get-worn-down-and-finally-explode culture somehow eked through? Did the Small Victories Philosophy fail me, or was it a natural reaction that anyone would have had?

Alas, I will never know. What happened happened, and I did the right thing. I had ventured into the beyond weeks ago and this is simply part of exploring that grey, misty world. My students finished the game and enjoyed the rest of the day. No residual feelings. Teacher and students still get along. My patience repaired the hole in its wall. Discipline was properly disseminated.

I guess you'd call that a small victory.

Here is a picture of some of the kids in the nursery at Ana Al-Masri. Don't be mistaken by how calm they look. At least four sets of hands were grabbing my camera as I took this. Half of my pictures from that day have fingers in the frame.

This is Andi playing with some of the kids. She is awesome. Everyone ought to know that Andi is quite possibly amazing in every regard, particularly at playing Miss Mary Mack.

The Luxury of Theory

Today at each of our sites, we welcomed a speaker who discussed refugee determination procedures and the UNHCR (Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees). As we listened to her speak, both of us were struck by how utterly Western were the concepts guiding this process. The overarching theme we found is that often governments fail to live up to the theoretical guidelines mandated by the UNHCR. For starters, most of these refugees are living in Cairo “temporarily,” meaning that the Egyptian government cannot send them back to their home country. Yet in reality, few will ever be resettled in Egypt or elsewhere, and thus will never receive full citizens’ rights. A particularly telling quote from the lecture: “You [refugees] have rights, but they often aren’t carried out in practice.”

In the West we have the luxury of believing that all the agreements we make and treaties we sign will become reality, and that our humanitarian efforts will be fulfilled. Thus we have the luxury of theory – debating the finer points of wording while ignoring the failures and imperfections in implementation. But how do theoretical rights, agreed to on paper but not respected or adhered to in real life, help our students who suffer on a daily basis? Today we heard about our students’ first hand experiences in Cairo: being hit on the shoulder by an Egyptian and being unable to respond, being disgustingly overcharged while buying juice in a market, and having to pay the police in order to avoid arbitrary arrest.

We are not intending to diminish the efforts of the UNHCR, or our guest speaker, or AMERA (Africa and Middle East Refugee Assistance), an NGO with which we work closely. Today’s lecture simply made us realize the gap between Western ideals and the true refugee experience. The language of UNHCR policies is laden with ‘maybe’s and ‘might’s and ‘probably’s and ‘possibly’s, but this legal jargon does not account for the real lives of our students. Successful theory, that which on paper solves problems and grants rights, does not necessitate happy and healthy lives. These policies certainly are the jumping off point for a solution to the suffering of refugees, yet they need to be tweaked to suit the infrastructure of the non-Western world. Trusting in theory – pretty pieces of paper that hypothetically eliminate injustice – is a luxury that we never knew we had.

June 5: Crosses, Icons and Graves

Today, Hillary and I decided to go on an adventure and visit Coptic Cairo. We rode the metro four stops south to Mar Girgis. Coptic Cairo was there, immediately outside of the station with beautiful Byzantine-like churches all around. The Coptic Museum was closing in 2 hours so we stopped by there first. We were amazed by the beauty of the wall paintings, the column capitals, friezes and mosaics - all from old Egyptian Coptic monasteries. Also, there were gorgeous illuminated copies of the gospels in both Arabic and Coptic.

After leaving the museum, we explored the Church of St. George, who is known for his slaying of the dragon, and the Church of the Virgin Mary, which was built at the spot where she supposedly drank water from a well during her visit to Egypt. Within the Church of St. George, there were signs on which people wrote their names or prayers and icons of St. George that people touched, hoping for a blessing. Located in the middle of an immense cemetery, the Church of the Virgin Mary houses a well from which the faithful drink to obtain blessings or physical healing.

After leaving the churches, we continued our adventure by descending down steps – guarded by a very bored Egyptian tourist police officer - to a sub-alley. Here, Hillary and I entered a nunnery that was being remodeled, encountered our first beggar, and visited a souvenir shop, where we befriended one of the shop-keepers (Marian). After chatting (in English) with her for a good 45 minutes, we exchanged email addresses in hopes of meeting up with our friends and her friends later this summer. Our visit to Coptic Cairo was definitely a wonderful adventure and opportunity to use our Arabic to get around. We can’t wait to take everyone else back.

Today's Tidbits - June 3

Today’s Title:

• Hillary Vs. the Arm-Wrestler
• Professor Lo Vs. Directions, Part Two
• Orientation Day
• Professor Lo Does the Sorority Squat

Song of the Day: “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas

Favorite Moments:

• Max and Ahmed wrestling
• Hillary arm-wrestling
• Witnessing our first traffic accident (which is shocking in that we didn’t see one sooner)
• Eating at an Italian restaurant in Cairo that played 80’s jams
• Meeting the three NGOs
• Riding the subway
• Ordering Pizza

Quote of the Day:

• “Is Andi okay?” – to Andi, by Prof. Lo
• “Oh Look, Those Are Pyramids. No big deal.” – Anon.
• “I Don’t Ride Elevators That Don’t Have A Picture Of Cherie Berry” – Max
• “Do you speak al-Engleezee? [Pause] Ah sweet.” – John

DukeEngager of the Day: Moo-see-bah, err, Nusaibah…

This post is brought to you by Mohamed Magdy, even though he doesn’t know it.