Why we are here?

Yesterday I re-read the initial executive summary we were given by St. Andrew's Refugee Ministry, the organization under whose auspices we work teaching English. The project descriptor lists five goals for our "English lessons". None of these goals have anything to do with English. The summary is blunt on this point: the goals are to provide life skills, information about organizations and resources available to refugees in Cairo, and conversational Arabic to non-Arabic speaking populations. In the words of the descriptor itself, though, "it is much easier to attract students to English class." The English component is the teaser, intended really only to attract students. Furthermore, the executive summary cautions us that we may not even be around to see the significant impacts of our program. "One of the main ways we have seen impacts from the summer school programmes have been a higher enrollment in St. Andrew's Adult Education programme by minors who have not previously been able/willing to access education."

To be honest, when I applied for Duke Engage, I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to be doing. I came into the program hoping to gain greater exposure to Egyptian culture, improve my Arabic, and some vaguely defined third goal. Stateside, when people asked me what the purpose of Duke Engage Cairo was, I'd often give obfuscating and unclear answers. "Working with refugees," was a non-answer I'd often use. Gradually I embraced the massive oversimplification of "teaching English to refugees." As I grew more and more accustomed to this half-truth, it became the reality in my brain, so when I got here, I envisioned English lessons as Duke Engage Cairo's raison d'etre.

While English lessons are an important part of our work with St. Andrew's, the reality is far more complex. The Duke Engage Cairo program reflects Professor Lo's philosophy on Duke Engage. Rather than orchestrating DukeEngage Cairo as a sort of "service vacation", where we can show up, do work, and go home satisfied, Professor Lo makes us do the hardest work.

Picture a soup kitchen. You can show up and work for a few hours - which is a very noble and charitable thing to do. But showing up and working, while a great means of civic engagement, cannot match the degree of engagement that the person who actually made the soup kitchen experienced. When we showed up here, I expected the soup kitchen to be ready. I expected there to be ingredients in the kitchen, ladles and bowls sitting in cabinets, and people lining up outside. Six weeks have impressed upon me that this is rarely the reality. The comforting "warm glow" of donating to a well-run, organized NGO is the result of countless hours of backbreaking and frustrating labor on the part of the NGO. While we see the finished organizational model and marvel at the results it is able to achieve, the hardest work has already been accomplished at this point - buying the silverware and convincing people to show up.

What does this mean for Duke Engage? It means that when we showed up, our partner organizations didn't do the "work" for us. I said it in my last post and I'll repeat it here: we aren't interns. Professor Lo mentioned at one point that in an ideal world, one in which we had more than two months to work here in Egypt, he would bring us here without any plans. Rather than working with existing NGOs, he would have us create our own projects based on our desires and the percieved needs of the community. Obviously, the short timespan of DukeEngage makes this an impossibility, but we are still given massive amounts of freedom. No one assigns us tasks or monitors their completion. We have opportunities - i.e. 9 hours a week teaching refugees - but what we do with these opportunities are up to us. And throughout this experience, its been the preparation thats been truly difficult. The hardest part of the trip has not been the three or four-hour periods we spend "in the field", but rather the countless hours of discussion, frustration, and arguments as we try to figure out the key questions of civic engagement: Why are we here? What are we doing? Are we achieving results? Does what we are doing matter?

With regard to that last question, let me quote Professor Lo: "... measuring the impact of DukeEngage is a difficult undertaking," he writes, "but its hallmarks include a lasting experience for the DukeEngager, a deeper bond with fellow students and faculty, and an entrepreneurial approach towards societal causes..." Duke Engage is a long term investment. Our success here is measured not by the improvement in our students' English. Although it may sound selfish, our success has far more to do with our personal gain that it does with the benefits to the communities in which we serve. As amazing as the members of this group are, none of us are teachers. None of us are fluent in Arabic. For the cost of sending 13 Duke students to Egypt (not to mention housing, food, insurance, and recreation, all of which DukeEngage generously compensates us for), Duke could probably hire about 40 competent local teachers. But DukeEngage isn't about short-term results.

Perhaps it's just me, but in my mind this is a receipe for guilt. Duke is spending a small fortune to send us here - our plane tickets, our insurance, our ridiculously posh accomodations, our unnecessarily large food stipends, my 3-student private language class, our beach vacation at Sharm al-Sheikh. Not that I don't enjoy these things immensely. I love being able to eat well without having to agonize over every Egyptian pound, and after seven weeks in the dust and pollution of Cairo, I'm tremendously excited for our trip to the Red Sea. But at the same time, I have a very hard time coming to terms with the fact that Duke is spending this money on my personal growth and "capacity building", and not in the way that would most benefit the people we are "supposed to help". (I should also point out that Duke itself gains immensely from funding DukeEngage - something like 12% of all applicants for the Class of 2014 cited DukeEngage on their application as their reason for applying to Duke, even more than Duke basketball.) I feel guilty. Every time I'm 5 minutes late to work, or skip a problem on my Arabic homework because I'm too tired or would rather go watch world cup matches at a cafe, I go through my head and think about the money and time the DukeEngage staff put in to our experience here, and try to calculate what fraction I just "wasted".

This guilt keeps me honest. Yet while I feel it in my heart, my brain tells me that the money isn't being wasted. My brain tells me that DukeEngage exists not to provide immediate gains in communities around the world, but rather to instill in Duke students a love of service and skill sets that they would never be able to attain inside the classroom. This experience is only wasted if I return home without having changed, without having learned, without having experienced anything. While this DukeEngage program lasts only eight weeks, the engagement DukeEngage exists to foster is meant to last a lifetime. DukeEngage is just the beginning. I'll let Professor Lo have the last word:

DukeEngage, as I understand it, is an investment in the human self, the human capacity and ability to do good, regardless of the constraints of lack of experience and the challenges of time-limits. It is a manner of helping students transit from the legally segregated classrooms to the chaos of the hierarchical, politically divided outside world, where they can witness the myriad problems that confront humanity across the globe.

Another Place to Belong

If there is one place I can say that has become more familiar than our apartment and its surroundings, it would have to be Hay el Ashr- which is the St Andrews site where Zuri, Ruba, Max and I work at. For one, I realized that we had a class where students showed up consistently and I knew all their names and this was a great moment- especially given the challenges we had initially faced in trying to find students to attend classes. I thought back to the days where we had only 2 students one time, or another day when we had started teaching a group of school-going children who came to learn at our site because their parents were watching a world cup game and needed their children to be pre-occupied for that duration. I also felt that the past week had been one of the best teaching experiences for me personally- finally understanding how to teach a group that was largely illiterate in English, some of whom had never heard the language before, and overcoming the idea of 'What is the point of teaching them if they can't read or write and therefore effectively retain the information?' Max and I tried our best with repeating words and phrases constantly for this week's topic- body parts and sickness- trying to come up with activities that would both engage the students and help them learn. At the end of each day, it was unbelievably satisfying when each one left with having learnt maybe two or three words after every class but what was most surprising was when half left with having learnt almost all the phrases relating to the body by the end of Wednesday's class. This was something that I would never have imagined and it has forced me to think about expectations of service projects. Even before my application for this program was accepted, I thought I was being incredibly mature by taking the perspective that two months of a service project in a foreign country could not yield great results and therefore I should be realistic, which for me translated to having almost no expectations of what my service project could achieve. This past week at Hay el Ashr has changed this mindset completely. There are many people who are enthusiastic about trying to bring change and that is an extreme, but I realized that the way I was thinking was not the right way to look at this issue either. Sure, being realistic may evade the frustration and anguish that comes along with disappointment, but at the same time the joy that accompanies small successes such as this week, are multiplied when you have believed and had faith that your efforts will yield fruit and I hope to keep this in mind for the last three weeks here.

Week 4: Max's Reflection

Walking through Tahrir Square, one is struck by the massive presence of the Mogamma, the headquarters of the Egyptian bureaucracy. Tahrir Square is a giant crossroads located near the Nile, filled with western fast food chains and ringed by hotels and tour agencies. The Mogamma sits incongruously on one side, with a small courtyard accenting its utilitarian facade. It sits there as a rather ugly landmark. Sometimes I see people doing their laundry on the roof.

According to its Wikipedia page (in English), there are fourteen stories and 18,000 Egyptian employees work there. I've never been inside it, but if I needed to renew a visa or get an Egyptian drivers' license I'd need to go there and likely waste a few hours waiting in line. It would be an inconvenience.

Walking back the other day, I reflected on how casually I dismiss the Mogamma as simply another unattractive presence in a city not known for its aesthetic appeal. For the refugees we work with - and for the average Egyptian - the Mogamma is the manifestation of the inefficiencies of the Egyptian state and the difficulties of life here.

I first heard of the Mogamma in my Arabic class, where we watched the video Al-Irhab wa al-Kebab (Terrorism and Kebab). (Arabic classes, especially those at Duke, place a huge emphasis on teaching cultural proficiency as well as language. The first vocabulary word in our Arabic textbook is "the United Nations".) In the film, an Egyptian everyman becomes so frustrated by the bureaucracy that he ends up taking over the building. He is labeled a terrorist by security forces outside, but becomes a hero to the disillusioned "hostages" inside. Whenever I see the Mogamma, I am reminded of the film's satirical analysis of Egyptian society.

I don't know a whole lot about the refugee status determination process, and what I do know is from hopelessly academic sources. I imagine having to wait in line for hours to plead my case to an overworked, underpaid Egyptian employee. I imagine being intimidated by the crowds and inhumanity of the process. If I were from Eritrea, Ethiopia, or Somalia, as many refugees here are, I might not even speak Arabic well enough to understand what was going on.

I can't even begin to imagine how scary the Egyptian state can seem to someone without a foreign passport and an embassy to advocate for your rights. While we were in Alexandria we saw dozens of armored cars and surrounded by riot policemen - apparently in response to protests related to the death of a teenager at the hands of policemen. That's all I've heard and that's all I know about the situation, although I believe it was covered in at least some Western media. (EDIT: for a great analysis and description of the events related to the death of Khalid Said, I refer you to the amazing Andrew Simon. Andrew just graduated from Duke and has a fellowship to spend a year studying Arabic in Cairo.)

Foreigners must content some governmental unpleasantries as well: foreign women will often find themselves stared at by bored policemen with guns; security forces will go out of their way to escort western tourists with the tacit understanding that they will be given compensation for their troubles; there are security checkpoints on the highways where passports are inspected; foreign tourists must pay many times the Egyptian price to visit museums and historical sights. These minor annoyances aside, Egypt pretty much bends over backwards for tourists. This isn't just the cold economics of tourism - Egyptians seem to genuinely love hospitality and their charm in receiving guests is remarkable.

Anyways, I started out hoping to write about the teaching process but once again I've found it far easier to write about buildings than to write about people. I know a lot of our readers (both of them probably!) are curious about what we're doing. I'd like to explain this, but it's difficult. I'm not exactly sure where or how to begin. Before arriving in Egypt, I had sort of implicitly assumed that our role would be more along the lines of an internship, where would be given a role and expected to fulfill the duties of the job. While we have partners here we work with, it's not the same thing as having a "job". Any job requirements we have are our own creations. We have immense flexibility, but this incredible freedom is, at least for me, extremely challenging. Far from the instant gratification of receiving a letter grade at the end of the term or a paycheck every second Friday, we have to come up with our methods, our own goals, and our own ways of measuring success.

I'm probably rambling somewhat, but I think the point I want to make is this: the question "what does Duke Engage Cairo do?" is a question that has 13 different answers. Everyone one of us has, after nearly a month, begun to realize the needs of the communities we are working with and our ability and capacity to engage. We are all developing our own curricula for teaching and making our own choices about how we can best spend the brief time that Duke Engage provides us. Hopefully some of us can begin to define our personal answers on this blog over the next month, and I'm going to make it one of my goals to provide one answer to this question - I think I owe it to Duke Engage and to our readers. I hope to write another post again soon.

Week 1: The City of Cairo

I heard the other day that architects have the highest suicide rate in Egypt. I’m not sure if that’s true or just a colorful rumor, but it certainly makes sense. Navigating Cairo is hard – the buildings here tend to run together into a brown blur. There’s been a trend in recent years where the wealthy move outside the city, escaping the noise and squalor of downtown in favor of mini-cities that spring up in the desert. Yet while the dirty, decaying facades of downtown have character, these new cities seem soulless and utilitarian. The rows of identical block housing and the Lada taxis filling the streets call to mind the ghosts of Egypt’s socialist past.

I’m not sure if Arabic has a word for “urban planner”, but I’m sure they must share in architects’ frustration. Cairo has virtually no public spaces. The sidewalks are littered with construction debris and the streets are cluttered with cars. Double parking is the norm, and I’ve even seen triple parking in some places. At night, people congregate on the Nile bridges, enjoying the breeze as well as some of Cairo’s only decent sidewalks.

The population is growing, but I’m not sure how Cairo will cope. Professor Lo told me he thought that in twenty years the government is going to have to start tearing down buildings. If I had to guess, though, I’d predict that affairs will continue in the unpredictable, laissez-faire fashion they do now. Many things about the city of Cairo don’t make sense, but Egyptians are resilient. They find ways to rejoice in the Kafka-like absurdities of Cairo. I love Cairo and I love the Egyptian people, but this is an extremely difficult city to live in. For those who relish constant challenge, Cairo is an amazing adventure. For those who want things to just make sense, this is not the country for you.

This post started because I wanted to write about running. Running is never something I’ve liked doing, and I’ve always nursed a secret jealousy for the motivated few who have the persistence to go running every day. I had wanted to join a gym, but after Gold’s Gym told me a two-month membership would be about $300 US, I was forced to change my allegiance. I’ve become one of them, getting up at 6:15 AM four or five days a week to go running. I love it.

Cairo is beautiful in the early morning, before it gets hot and the traffic becomes so thick you can’t walk between the idling cars. Crossing the Nile every morning is simply awe-inspiring. Yes, the pollution is bad and the heat is deadly, but in the early morning neither is insurmountable. From the apartment, I cross the bridge unto Zamalek Island and run to the Gezira Club, which has a giant running track. The dirt track is narrow, uneven, and covered with horse crap, but it’s better than the sidewalks. I’d guess the track is maybe a mile and half around, but I really have no idea. I’m not sure exactly if you need a membership or not to use the track, but I just do what Professor Lo showed me and give £E 5 ($0.90 US) to the guard at the side gate. I’m not sure whether I’m just paying the cost of admittance or bribing the guy, but it works without fail. Interestingly though, £E 5 seems to work regardless of how many people I have running with me…

Running in Cairo is also amusing because of the reactions you get. The bored policemen with AK-47s hanging loosely off their backs stare at you as your run by. Sometimes I get honks and thumbs-ups from taxi drivers. When I finally make it back to the apartment, the bawwab (custodian) sitting in the lobby gives me a standing ovation while I drag my sweaty body to the elevator. They think my mediocre jogging means I’m some sort of amazing sportsman – no one runs here. Greater Cairo has a population of perhaps 15 million people, but I’ve only seen about 3 other people running.

Today's Tidbits - June 8

Today’s Titles:

• FDOC
• Zuri Vs. The World, Part Ten(Thousand)
• The Girl’s Apartment Conquers the Stove
• Max, Ruba, Moana, and Zuri Vs. The Minibus
• Community Facilitators, Orientation, and Other Wonderful Things

Songs of the Day:

• “Pokemon Theme Song” in Arabic
• “Make It Through” by Sherwood

Quotes of the Day:

• “Don’t drive with Hannah. She’s a terrible taxi driver.” -Ingie, the Arab Academy teacher during a taxi-cab, role-playing game.
• “Legiternet” and “sly-fi” –John’s terms for “legitimate internet” connections and “possibly unsafe” ones

Favorite Moments:

• First Day of Classes
• Animal Toss Game at Orientation
• Minibuses
• We gave in…and went to McDonald’s

DukeEngager of the Day: Fernando, future bodyguard

June 8 - The Group Vs. FDOC

I thought jet lag was bad…until we started our first day of Arabic classes (FDOC = first day of classes) today. It is a four-hour mental marathon that is both something completely identical to and completely unlike physical exhaustion. Imagine your brain simultaneously understanding but not processing everything that is going on around you. John says it is like going to the gym for the first time in a while and finding out that your Arabic muscles aren’t as strong as you thought they were.

Our teachers at Al-Diwan were excellent, never switching to English to give us an easy way out. While I can’t speak for the rest of the group, I think I understood about 60-75% of what our teacher was saying at any given moment- and that’s a pretty good number. Max, Nusaibah, and I pushed our way through Chapter 15 in our book while also picking up a lot of new material (i.e. we discovered there are dual forms for pronouns aka pronouns for groups of two people). While I can’t say I was too excited about doing homework during my sacred summer months, I do indeed look forward to having class again tomorrow morning.

After a quick cab ride to St. Andrew’s- the primary NGO we will be working with- we had a second day of orientation activities. Today we learned about the services that AMERA (the African and Middle Eastern Refugee Assistance) can provide to refugees, such as legal and document services, psycho-social aid, protection, and sexual/gender based violence help. The presenter told us that her individual team works on about 8 cases every month, so we hope we can increase that number over the next few weeks by connecting refugees to the services that can help make their lives better. After a teaching and lesson-planning workshop, we split up and headed off to the sites we’ll be working at (look for another blog post from each group tonight about their individual sites).

Today's Tidbits - June 7

Today's Titles:

• Life Is So Much Better On A Boat
• Zuri Vs. Allergic Reactions
  
• Zuri Vs. Everything
• Crazy Taxi: Cairo

Songs of the Day:

• "How Bizarre" by O.M.C.
• "Come Together" by the Beatles

Quotes of the Day:

• "I don't know what you want, but I have what you need."
• "How can I take your money?"
• "It's kind of like a piggy-back ride." - Max

Favorite Moments:

• Fiona assuaging our anxiety
• Orientation at St. Andrew's
• Boat Ride on the Nile
• Mango Juice
• Dinner with Amr

DukeEngager of the Day: Zuri (she gets it two days in a row for her EXTREME patience and dedication)

Back to Day 1: The Video

Sorry this took so long to get up, but here it is: moving into the apartments and a few stories about our first two days in Cairo. Thanks to Mr. Magdy for all his help in getting this online!

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.