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.

Today's Tidbits - June 28

Today's Titles:

• The Group Vs. The Fender-Bender
• Brendan Gets Bit on the Butt
• The Spit-On-Andi Game
• John Starts a Barbershop Quartet
• Arab Academy vs. Going to the Cinema
• Rho Phi Gamma
• Fernando and the Giggles

Songs of the Day:

• "I'll Make A Man Out of You" -from Mulan
• "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne

Quotes of the Day:

• "Fi Amreeka naqul DUH." Translation: In America, we say DUH. -Ruba
• "Hatha explains katheer." Translation: That explains a lot. -Andi
• "Ya'll.....ya'll......ya'll......" -John teaching "ya'll" to his students
• "Ah Nusaibah, it's your birthday." -Professor Lo
• "Maheen, I thought your birthday was yesterday." -Professor Lo once again

Favorite Moments:

• Nusaibah's Birthday (and all THREE cakes)
• Lindsey and Fernando get documented by a random guy
• Robert Doyle's President Broadhead Impersonation
• Our security detail scaring off street salesman
• The Ain Shams kids singing "I Believe I Can Fly"
• Seeing the Mediterranean
• John Making Popcorn

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.

Faluka Ride With AUC Students

I’m sure one of my peers has mentioned it on this blog already, but in case they haven’t- a faluka ride is one of the most serene experiences in Cairo. Any boat ride is calming, a respite that can be hard to find in this city, but the fact that this specific boat ride is on the river we’ve grown up reading about and that people have been in awe of for generations, it just never gets old. It kind of reminds you of your presence there, something like the opposite of an out-of-body experience. I’m not entirely sure if that makes sense.

DukeEngage has a strong relationship with the American University of Cairo, particularly with a professor named Brooke. She’s already had us over to her apartment twice now for various lectures and invited us to this particular faluka ride, our 3^rd, to meet some of her summer students. I have heard some pretty accusatory stereotypes about AUC students and I don’t feel particularly inclined to take them at face value, but one thing is for sure- they’re not your everyday Egyptians. The fact of the matter is that in this country you have to be wealthy to go to AUC. I’ve heard things like the Egyptians students there don’t really live in Egypt or have a completely sheltered and unrealistic understanding of what the country is like. Honestly, I never really asked them what they think about President Mubarak or how to solve poverty in Egypt; we stuck to more kosher (or should I say halaal?) subjects like music and school. So I really couldn’t tell you how grounded they are. They were obviously more well-off than most Egyptians we have encountered so far, but they also seemed like intelligent and capable students. I think a fortunate background is no reason to harbor animosity towards or lay blame on someone, which I suspect is a strong influence on the development of the stereotypes I’ve mentioned. The group was very friendly and we’ve planned to meet up again sometime soon for dinner. I intend to have more substantial conversations with them then and I hope that they will, insha’allah, show me a different AUC student from the one I have been hesitant to accept.

This Week's Tidbits - June 21

This Week’s Titles:

• Teaching Troubles
• Crying and Smiling Children
• Journey to the Center of Hai al-Asher
• Homework Vs. Lesson Planning Vs. Sleep
• Professor Lo and the Eternal Battle For Interwebs
• The Birthday Party
• Street Fighter: The Victorious
• The Twilight Saga: Cairo (cause the kids at I the Egyptian are routinely getting bitten)

Songs of the Week:

• “Hot ‘n Cold” by Katy Perry
• “Down” by Jay Sean
• “Jump On It” by Apache

Quotes of the Week:

• “What do you mean by Hello Kitty drugs?” –Zuri, befuddled by her teacher’s story
• “Where’d the blondes go?” “Where the pigs went.” –John, on how beautiful blondes like Andy aren’t seen around here because they continually stop traffic
• “Don’t lose your stuff, or else it will end up on some old man’s Christmas tree,” –Hannah, on the moral of story she read in her Arabic class
• “I freakin’ love unicorns…I probably shouldn’t have admitted that…It’s like 10 Galleons a hair.” –Brendan
• “Pregnant is just a dot away from being camel.” –John, on spelling Arabic words
• John’s Vader Voice, in Arabic: “Luke, I am your father.”

Favorite Moments of the Week:

• Street Fight in Khan el-Halili
• Zuri Eating in Class
• Moana Caking
• Zoe’s Birthday
• Working at the NGOs
• Coptic Cairo
• Lecture with Raymond
• Teaching Time to St. Andrew's Students
• Teaching "Ninja" to the Kids at I the Egyptian

Reflection - June 20

In case you are one of the loyal followers who stuck with us even though we haven't posted this week, I send you my thanks. It's been a tough week for all of us- each with his or her own difficulties- so hopefully I can post a few updates later tonight about what's been happening in The Victorious (the meaning of "Cairo"). We have been saving up some things for Today’s Tidbits, so be on the lookout for them.

Before I write anything, though, I will say that my opinion does not represent everyone in the group; it is my opinion, and others may agree or disagree at various points. As much as I might want to see the world in black and white, I realize that there are indeed shades of grey. But I digress...

If I could encapsulate this week in one word, that word would be "frustration". Earlier on in the trip I wanted to try to explain how Cairo is an organic force directly intertwined with our work and our lives. This is not Durham, where you make your own fate. This is Cairo, where things don't ever happen the way you expect and there's no way to change it. Someone is late? It's Cairo. Your class is full of students you didn't expect? That's Cairo too. Constantly changing your lesson plans? Definitely Cairo.

My personal problem dealing with this frustration is that I can't fix it. I am not a control freak, but I like having control over my little kingdom. Cairo wants to teach me spontaneity and I am not an eager pupil. How can you tell if your students are learning? How do you deal with them when they don’t want to learn what you feel they need to learn? How about when you think they don’t need what you originally thought they needed? How should we discipline kids when we don’t have the linguistic and cultural capability of how to do so? Should our goal be to break up every fight and attempt to affect every kid in at least a small way, or skim over the whole bunch and invest in a few shining stars? How do you judge being a good cultural ambassador and is it okay if being one is our only goal?

These are the answerless questions that have been rattling around my head this week during the treks to I the Egyptian and Ain Shams. I do realize that I skipped discussing the bright spots in the week- how Maheen and I are the Batman and Robin of teaching English, or how I met one boy who wants to learn English as much as I do Arabic- but warm fuzzies don’t sell newspapers (or attract blog readership). I battle against Cairo with an open mind and a newfound patience, and in that I am quite impressed with myself. That being said, I currently feel unable to deal with the fact that tangible goals are- in all likelihood- unattainable. There is no way to measure- to touch, to taste, to smell, to see- success here. There is no way to say, “Look, here is what I am accomplishing.”

And that, at least to me, is frustrating.

Always Something New

Every day in Cairo is a little bit different. There are new adventures to be had, a new bawab guarding the entrance to our apartment building (a bawab is like a doorman or bellhop, and they chill on the ground floor and open doors for us), new bug bites to be futilely ignored, new types of street food to be attempted, and new places to explore.

When Fernando and I go to Ardilewa (or, Ard al-Liwa), our new adventure is the trip over. The metro ride is pretty standard, give or take the different looks and/or comments I receive, but the microbus ride is always something special. Our first real microbus ride was on the way over, just the two of us, with no one to explain as everyone in the bus began to pass money to a random passenger on the bus. At first, I didn't notice. I was too busy looking out the window, worrying that we were going to miss where we were supposed to get off, and ignoring the man who would not stop staring at the arm I was using to brace myself. Note that we were in the front of a quite crowded bus, facing the rest of the passengers, in an area where very few foreigners venture and certainly, if they do, they don't take the minibus. When I eventually realized that money was going around the bus and I had no idea why, I gave Fernando a panicked look. Did he actually work for the bus driver, but just sit in the back? Was it a low-key holdup that none of the Egyptians cared about but was going to rob us of all of our money? Was I missing some vital, culturally significant activity?

Turns out, it's just easier for everyone on the bus to pass their money forward to someone close enough to pass money to the driver, so my initial fears were unwarranted. But every day on the microbus presents some kind of new puzzle, whether it's how to get the driver to stop, whether or not we should just jump off, how to get around the fold-down seats full of people blocking our exit, or discovering which microbus we should actually get on.

The microbus isn't the end of our adventure, although the market area through which we weave in order to find the correct alleyway down which we meander in order to arrive at the building containing our site is actually usually less exciting, despite its overflow of people, vehicles, animals, goods, and food. But, all in all, pushing through all this is more than made up for by our students, because they are more than worth it!