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2008-06-27T17:28:00.001-04:00

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April 26

2006-08-16T19:35:00.000-04:00

I have not walked down this path in a long time. Perhaps I grew overly accustomed to composing sappy vignettes of life in a far off land and then days kept moving forward and I found myself someplace else. And the beauty of life in Upland or Des Moines is more hidden, because my eyes are weak with familiarity. Yet there is grace here. I communicate with the beauty and grace, but also the injustice and iniquity, I encountered in the Middle East through books, articles, people, discussion. They remain my strong companions. This year has been spectacular, terrible, happy, content, betrayed, upland, des moines, los angeles, minneapolis, chicago, bloomigton, engaging, miscommunication, spanish, refugees, heartbreak, new friends, responsibility, cooking, intellectl, spiritual, vulnerable, sad, bored, love. Consider yourself caught up.

This weekend I traveled cross I-80 for the wedding of a friend from my MESP semester. It was in hour 9 of 11 on our way to Ohio that I mentioned the accident. I was thanking Cecka for the note she wrote in Arabic on a big poster Bethel sent to Taylor; it was meant only and specifically for Andrew and I. It was only by coincidence that we actually saw ours names and the few Arabic words on the poster hanging outside the chapel. When I saw it my eyes welled for the one hundred millionth time that week.

Near the end of April I was strung out from long nights of homework and a series of assignmentspaperstests that had left me exhausted. Wednesday I decided to take a day off from homework. I did not know or want that break to stretch into the five day interim that would follow. At 2M’s weekly showing of LOST we saw some new faces of friends who were not regulars, but now their outfits and places on the furniture in our bedroom have become a part of my psyche. I have thought for a long time that I would write this.

Jill is a fair-weathered LOST viewer. Initially, she was intrigued by the cultural indications of the program, but then, about half way through the season when Said tortured that guy she decided she couldn’t take the intensity any longer. Jill still had a presence at our Wednesday night gatherings commenting on the commercials, serving drinks, sitting in for a minute here and there. As the program was ending on April 26 I could hear Jill in the room next door getting ready to meet Courtney to train for the mini marathon they would run in May. Jill called the Hayes House.

And then Courtney’s cell phone.

And Jess’ cell phone.

And whoever else and then Vance Maloney answered one of her calls. A Taylor van has been in an accident. Betsy was on the van. The girls are at the Maloneys praying.

Brent picks up the phone leaning back in the orange chair between the bookshelf and the windowsill. His left arm draped across the arm of the recliner and the phone in his right hand. Randy is not at home. But his wife talks to Brent. He folds his left arm across his chest nodding and making small sounds affirming that he hears her words. There was an accident tonight. Five fatalities. A catering group. Thank God that Andrew, who is a catering manager, is within plain sight. In several moments of twisted selfishness I think: there were two cars in the accident. All the fatalities were in the other vehicle, not mine. And at the same time we bow our heads to pray and tears stream down my face.

The girls hurry back to English to find the news has spread like termites attacking the very core of us. We start checking our email looking for any communication from someone in authority. Anticipating a series of emails that would inform us of our dead classmates, canceled classes, and details for five different funerals. I don’t remember why we decide to go to the chapel. On the way out the door Jill stops to call her mom, because she didn’t want her to find out from someone else. I did not understand that something like this might make the news in Iowa. I called my parents anyway. Andrew calls his parents in Minnesota; I think this is ridiculous because Minnesota is even more removed than Iowa and no one at Taylor died—the fatalities were in the other car, remember.

We arrive at the chapel and people are pouring in. It is hot. It smells rank. It is common knowledge that the chapel cannot hold the entire student body, however, it is rarely full for a regular chapel session. Tonight it is packed, people are standing along the sides of aisles and overflowing to the outside of the chapel. Brittany, Andrew, Jill and I slip up into the balcony. It is quiet. I have a headache and I am wearing too many layers. Someone made an announcement that there were five people killed, all in the Taylor van. Shock rips us wide open and is met with our initial silence. And so sometime between 9:30 and 10:00 pm the waiting ensued.

It is clear that everyone is doing the same thing. I am searching for my friends who work banquets. I am quietly asking if anyone has seen the people I love. Jill slipped downstairs to sit with the girls from the Hayes house. I think I will vomit. I walk to the bathroom where I have walked a hundred times before. I am disoriented and dizzy. My headache gets louder. I see Zack and he looks normal to me. I direct him to the area where Jill had gone. Something in his face feels relief amidst the mounting tension and he joins his friends. I continue to the bathroom. I can breathe a little bit better now. Someone did throw up, but I opted to go back upstairs and find Brittany.

I see Annie Nelson devastated at the thought of losing anyone who works in the DC with her. I hug her, but I still don’t understand what is happening around me. We are slowly finding out whose roommates did not come home by process of elimination, but we still know nothing for sure. We see groups of friends huddled together arms twisting around bodies that had a vicious tragedy to feel unfold.

I see someone gesture from the front of the chapel and watch Betsy’s closest friends file from one pew out of the chapel. I walk around the building and watch them dissolve under the pressure of the grief; they drop to the ground where they stood when they heard their worst fears confirmed. Betsy is gone. Jill is on the phone with her mom; Brittany and I hug her anyway. In the following weeks I heard Jess mention several times the fact that Betsy is dead, as if to remind herself of the fact in the midst of circumstances when that death seeped into every facet of her being. The girls did not return to the house for a long time. I saw them the next day in the same clothes. I know because I remember Courtney was wearing white pants. After a while I hugged them hoping that something unspeakable would wordlessly pass between our bodies. Later, we mowed their lawn.

Excruciating hours drag on. Someone moves to the piano we sing hymns and wait. Some students who have felt great losses speak words to us, but I feel like there is cotton in my ears. Jill, Brittany and I relocate to the left aisle of the chapel and sit on the floor there. Nearby First North, Laurel’s wing, huddles together. We are all crying. Phil arrived at some point and sat next to us on the ground. I am glad he is near. I am glad that he is just as confused as me. He prays with us. More hours pass. I do not think my eyes have anymore tears to cry, but somehow they keep coming.

When I think about it now I cannot remember who announced the names of the students who died. There was Randy, Wynn Lembright, Dr. Habecker standing in front of us crying. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning somebody reads the list of names: Monica Felver, Whitney Cerak, Brad Larson, Betsy Smith, Laurel Erb. Wails break from the lips of friends who had been waiting to hear the worst and hoping to hear the best. The entire chapel heaved enormous sobs together. Hundreds of us feeling the grief sear our bodies. Marylou hugs me she is wearing something pink. The throbbing in my head continues. I do not remember how we decided to go home. I do not remember how I finally fell asleep, exhausted, around 3:30 am.

Thursday morning my face is swollen from crying. Chorale will sing at the chapel. I do not know what to wear. I cannot stop crying. We sing my favorite song: My Shepard. Later we will sing other songs that are eerily appropriate for the occasion. We stumble through the next days. We must remember to love each other. We have to remember to grieve with hope for a new day.

The Other Middle Eastern Country

2005-05-25T06:47:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm back by popular demand. I'm finally home in Des Moines and several readers have complained that my blog has not had a proper measure of closure. I apologize for my delinquency. I will now attempt to summarize the events of the past 30 days or so and bring some kind of finality to this four month journey.

I believe at the time of my last post I was just finishing packing up my flat in Agouza. That next day we had the Ma'Salaama (go in peace) party and twelve of the twenty-four MESPers got on a bus and after some opposition from the tourist police (really, could we have expected anything less?) headed to the Cairo Airport for the last time. On April 27, there in the middle of the night on a familiar road in Agouza a long series of goodbyes began that would not end until I said my final goodbye to my dear friend Barrett at JFK on May 18. It was something like a breaking of the fellowship. Heartwrenching really. I hate goodbye.

Bright and early on April 28 Monica, Ulasich, Dena, Josiah, Kroeze and I got on a bus headed toward the Israeli border at Taba. The ride through the Siani desert was beautiful, easy, and uneventful. The border crossing went smoothly with only one small incident of racial profiling. The Israelis didn't believe Monica was born in Texas they actually laughed when they read her passport. What's so unusual about an Egyptian born in Texas? Or maybe its just that Texas, in general, is a funny place. They think they're a separate country.

We came in through Eliat a beach town where modern Israel is in full swing. In Israel everyone, men and women alike, serve in the military. And after you have served in the military you are allowed and even encouraged to carry guns. Let me tell you, after the modesty of Islamic Cairo it was quite a shock to see some girl in a bikini with an M16 slung over her shoulder. Welcome to Israel, everyone, where the security is for real.

We arrived in Jerusalem after dark that night and successfully navigated our way to The Hebron (formerly Tabasco--there were copyright issues) Hostel that we would make our home for the next seven days. We met Denny and Barrett there. It was rather cozy all eight of us in that little dorm. Ibrahim, the man in charge (we think), is obessesive compulsive so that works out nicely; the place is absolutely spotless. The place is located in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City and it looks something like the set of City of Heaven. Orlando Bloom really is very talented.

Gosh, we did a lot in those seven days a sunrise hike to Masada, Mt. of Olives, Dead Sea (revisited), Dome of the Rock and al-Aqsa Mosque, the Wall, Bethlehem, Ramallah and Arafat's grave, Via Dolorosa, Garden of Gethsemne, Church of the Holy sepulcher, the ramparts, Nad Yashim (Holocaust Museum), East Jerusalem, the Knesset (the very disappointing Israeli parliament building), and an Orthodox Jewish Neighborhood in West Jerusalem. Wow, I bet that was boring to read.

So here are some of my impressions of Jerusalem. The weekend we arrived just happened to be Easter and Passover, so the city was absolutely teeming with pilgrims. We were witnesses to organized religion at its best (imagine my voice dripping with sarcasm). The Church of the Holy sepulcher is located in the heart of the Old City. This single building claims to house the location of the crucifixion and the tomb. Geographically speaking this seems unlikely. Denny says its commemorative. Okay. So, we went there on Good Friday--it was packed. I won't lie there was pushing and shoving and a little bit of shouting to control the crowds swarming the tomb. I got pushed by a bishop. I suppose I was in his way, but a simple "excuse me" would have achieved the same end. All the same, who else do you know that can say they got pushed by a bishop in the Church of the Holy sepulcher on Good Friday, no less?

Walking the streets of the Old City we found ourselves behind two Orthodox Jews. We knew they were Orthodox because they dress all in black in suits reminiscent of the 15th-16th century and wear side curls. We watched one of them stop twice to spit in baskets of crosses that were being sold on the side of the road.

The Dome of the Rock is the third most holy site in Islam. It is a building that commemorates Muhamad's Night Journey to Jerusalem. Its that huge golden dome that marks the skyline in any picture you see of Jerusalem. We visited that sight one afternoon, it really was remarkable, a place of peace for the Muslims of Jerusalem who were having picnics and playing together. You could almost forget the conflict of the place. That is until a small child you just had a relatively civil conversation with throws a rock at you as you walk away (no injuries were sustained in this incident).

I tell you those three incidents to tell you that a lot of what I saw in Jerusalem was rather unsettling. I felt perfectly safe, but the air in that city is thick with tension. So when you ask me, "how was Israel/Palestine?" And I answer, ''it was weird," that's what I am referring to. We experienced the checkpoints that are restricting Palestinian movement and saw the wall (to the Israelis "security fence" and to Palestinians "apartheid wall"). The wall is a massive cement slab marking the hills of Jerusalem, bigger than the Berlin Wall, it is costing millions of dollars per meter to build, but the Israelis claim it is temporary considering it is direct violation with International Law. An air of desperation marks the West Bank--I'm not really surprised as they are effectively being walled into a prescribed area of Israeli choosing.

We spent our last three days in the North. We rented a car and headed to Ibillin where Abuna Chacour's (the Palestinian Christian father) parish is. We spent some time with that wise man, visiting the school, and chatting with some of the volunteers at the Mar Elias Educational Institute. Abuna's goal is reconciliation between Palestinians and Jews. I have much to learn from men like him.

Next stop was Tiberas where we spent some time at the Sea of Galilee visited Capernum and the Mt. of Beatitudes. Our drives in the Galilean countryside were breathtaking. Someone remarked that they understood why Jesus chose to hang out there so much. On the morning the boys took us to the airport in Tel Aviv we stopped at Nazareth. The church there has mosaics of Mary donated from countries around the world. Interesting how the mosaics from Asia represented Mary as Asian, the Europeans see her as white, and the Africans colored her skin dark. What kind of cultural lens do I view my Christianity? Gosh, and I thought I was being so objective in this fading age of reason...

So was my journey to the "Holy Land" a spiritual experience? The answer is yes. But the answer is yes because I spent my time with these six remarkable people. Because we enjoyed nature together. Because someone strapped on the headlamp each night before bed and read to us from the Bible. Because I got to see Abuna Chacour again. Because of laughter. Because I'm memorizing the Sermon on the Mount. The sights were interesting, but they did not thrill me the way these other things did. I want to go back--there is some much more history, politics, and religion to take in. So many more people to talk to. So many more stories to hear.

That went a lot longer than expected and I haven't even brought you back to Cairo. I'll finish up on another day. Hold out just a little longer for that promised closure.

Sinai Liberation Day

2005-04-25T14:15:00.000-05:00

Twice in one day. I must be avoiding packing.

Happy Sinai Liberation Day. You think I'm kidding--its a national holiday. In 1973 Sadat signed a peace with Israel and got the Sinai back; later he was shot for it. Ironic how peace works around here. Word on the street has it that Mubarak gave a seven hour speech today concerning the momentous event. Wish I could've been there.

Actually, this weekend I was at a Coptic retreat center about an hour outside of Cairo called Anafora. Saturday, was maybe one of the best days of my life. All my essays were finished and I could do nothing to plan for the next stage of life. Anafora is so granola, as Claire would say. They grow their own food, all completely organic, so that they don't have to buy bread that is subsidized by superpowers that will remain unnamed. We stayed in rooms that are shaped so that they stay cool in the day time and warm at night. Chelsea, Dina and I shared a bed that was covered by a mosquito net and pretended that we were jungle princesses. They don't use electricty, just candles. I did get eaten alive by mosquitos before I got in bed the first night, but I suppose that's the price you have to pay. We finished reading The Little Prince, and I decided that I never want to become like the grown-ups. I wish you could all come to Anafora with me; this is a place that will live in my memory representing a moment of peace.

Tommorow about half of the group will get on a plane to America and we will say a goodbye that doesn't have an "I'll see you when" on the other end. We're planning a reunion at my house someday, because I'm Egyptian and we can eat Bilila every morning at my house. After that my daddy and sister are coming. Yesss, I can wait to see them. My adventure isn't over though, my sister is joining me and six of my friends in a journey to the "other middle eastern country". Next Sunday I'll celebrate my second Easter of this year in Jerusalem. Did you know the Eastern and Western churches celebrate Easter on different days? They do.

Its time to go now. There are words to say, movies to watch, and things to pack. I just thought I'd drop a note and give you a reason to celebrate today--I mean the Sinai is as good a reason as any.

The Abuna

2005-04-25T08:08:00.000-05:00

This is an essay I wrote for Conflict and Change. It might be a little out of context--its a lot of stuff I've been thinking about in life. Enjoy if you will.

Faith Like a Child
Whoever then humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. (Matt. 18:4)

Abuna Elias Chacour stepped into a room lined with students who had waited with excited anticipation to meet the man from Galilee and author of We Belong to the Land; they smiled, he sat down, looked around the room and told the students that their smiles meant hope. A strong advocate of peace, dignity, and justice, Abuna Chacour lives a life of conviction. Not only listening to the word of God, but also doing what it says. With that said there were many points the Abuna made that resonated truth, while other elements of his message were unsettling. It is beneficial to consider what I found to be strong points of the Abuna’s message, but I will also explore those aspects that are more difficult to accept.
Abuna Chacour often remembers the words of his father when discussing the reason for the life he lives. A statement he repeated both in his book and to the students is this: “We are not allowed to repay injustice with injustice.” Abuna went on to explain that when an injustice is committed no amount of reparations can heal the wound. The question then follows: what shall the wounded do with their pain? Each one should remember, so that the injustice will not be repeated and others’ suffering will be circumvented. This premise sets up a radical model for reconciliation and forgiveness. In other words, those wronged must forgive without forgetting. In practical terms, Abuna has not forgotten his right to return to his land in Biram, but he will not return by force or at the expense of others. He went on to describe the ability to forgive as a gift from God.
This model is righteous and just. The Abuna takes the moral high road free of any residue of vengeance that one might expect to observe. Yet, these ideas are radical and forgiveness is difficult, indeed, a favor from God. How can the Abuna expect individuals on the ground to adapt this moral high ground? This question leads to a fundamental difference between traditional western Christian belief and the Abuna’s ideas. In the face of every human being, the Abuna sees God. There is not a trace of the idea of “sin nature” anywhere in his theology. He speaks of cooperation and the global community, but in glance around the world I am confronted with pain and suffering at every turn. I do agree that man was created in the image of God. There is something sacred and unique in the fact that each face I see bears the image the Creator, and so I wrestle to reconcile the evil in the world with the status of mankind as children of God. I Corinthians 13 emphasizes the essentiality of love and hope to life on this earth, these things cannot, must not be forgotten. The Abuna told us that revenge is easier than forgiveness, but then calls mankind to a higher standard. Skepticism and the threat of mutual self-destruction cast shadows on this idealism. Perhaps the Abuna’s hope in mankind is what Jesus meant when he spoke of becoming like a child. I do not take these ideas lightly, for Abuna Chacour is a well-thought out man not only does he speak these ideals he also lives them by faith.
I am confronted with an even greater challenge when I turn to the Arab-Israeli conflict. The Abuna presented the conflict as an existential problem; he described it not as war of religion, but a war of identical claims on the land by two nations. Later, he presented a type of solution in a single statement: if the Israelis want peace and security, then they must pursue justice and dignity. If God is a God of justice, then it must follow that when justice is served then there will be peace. In this way, the Abuna presented the interests of the two sides as synonymous. Studying the conflict for a week brings me to the understanding that the interests of the two sides are not synonymous, in fact, many interests are mutually exclusive. Then, do I give up resigning the people of the area to destruction? This cannot be the answer, because the Bible calls for hope and compassion.
The proactive paradigm of Abuna Chacour is inspiring and indeed makes practical sense in this life that I am living. Chapter seventeen of We Belong to the Land is entitled: Get Up, Go Ahead, Do Something, Move! The Abuna explained that this call to action is his translation for the word “blessed” in the context of the beatitudes (Matt. 5). The problem of suffering in the world is daunting; an individual cannot alleviate the pain of mankind. And yet, this invitation to do something, to move situates the ideas of hope and justice on a micro level and in a position where progress can be achieved. When the Abuna bids me get up, go ahead, do something, move I hear the voice of Jesus calling me to follow him. He has not asked me to change the world, but he has called me beyond apathetic living. I cannot solve the problem of two nations with identical claims, but I can respond to the girl crying in the dorm room next door. I cannot write a theory for racial reconciliation in the United States, but I can go to intercity Marion and show Netnet she is loved.
Although it is more tangible to “do something” about injustice on the local level, thinking about suffering on the global level must not be forgotten. There is a place for study and compassion of areas I have never been and people I have never met. A comprehension of the larger world aids in understanding my own neighborhood in Upland, Indiana. Understanding the desperation that leads a person to use a bomb to kill himself and bystanders shows what a life void of hope looks like.
Violence, desperation, and injustice are universal, the example of Abuna Chacour, Ghandi, and Martin Luther King Jr. point to answers of peace, hope, and justice. The life of Abuna Elias Chacour is a direct response to the hope that he retains in the goodness of mankind and the justice of God. Perhaps his idealism is reflective of the foolishness of a little child, but recall, Jesus called his followers to faith like a child. Doctrinal differences aside, Abuna Chacour is living his life by the standards of the upside down kingdom that Jesus established in his followers. Struggling to understand I sojourn onward, and perchance someday I too will become like a child.

To Whom it May Concern

2005-04-18T14:18:00.000-05:00

Sorry, to those of you this doesn't concern.

Des Moines girls. Why is it that we have fallen out of contact? I mean, I'm probably the worst--couldn't even find your email addresses a couple of months a ago when I had the desire to send you a mass email. Natalie Fatalie, thanks for your comments--I'm excited about Africa. Lisa--I didn't forget your birthday. I was in the middle of Turkey on the day and I thought of you and I remembered how at Challenge we staged your birthday and made you a cake, but it wasn't your birthday at all. Feigan, my CCU friend and I talk about you all the time, and I wonder how things are going for you at your new school--thanks for you note. Anyway the point of this is that I want you (any or all of you) to send me an email so that I can make contact with you again. I love you all.

The "g" is Silent

2005-04-17T13:46:00.000-05:00

There are gnats everywhere. The "g" is silent, one of the girls so kindly informs me. Yes, I know the "g" is silent. What you don't know is that I love to mispronounce words, it gives me a strange kind of joy. That was a tangent. I was telling you about gnats. There are clouds of them everywhere I was walking around at dusk today and I just kept my hand at the level of my eyes to shoo them away. They are seeping into every proverbial nook and cranny of our flat; their dead bodies lay scattered in our kitchen, bathrooms, and bedroom. Emily thinks they're a remnant of the plague. At least they're not cockroaches; we found a couple of those last week and I screamed. Not sure why. Just did.

I hung out with my Aunt Amani the other day. We visited the "Middle East Map Makers" located on the second floor of an unmarked building. Up winding stairs a little man sits at his desk surrounded by maps measuring and sketching with tremendous care. He asks visitors to sit down in his tiny office and exchange pleasantries. A good time was had by all.

Sick a gnat just fell off the ceiling and down my shirt.

Next we visited a bookstore that was eerily similar to Barnes and Noble except with an Egyptian twist. Then we were headed to a hafla (party) in Zamalek at my Uncle Fouad's place. That's when we were distracted by the flat that my dad lived in as a kid and my parents lived in right after they were married. It was in shambles, because they are redoing it, but I stood there imagining the young couple making the small space a home and my heart was glad. There was a Harley-Davidson chilling in the lobby of the building and I smiled. Next we headed down an alley near the flat where we happened to run into the man who used to dress up as Santa Clause at Christmas time for the benefit of my dad and his sister (Amani). The weird thing is he doesn't look like he could be more than fifty, but he has to be because he was an adult when my dad was a kid. Unsolved mysteries of Cairo.

There was a man selling chicks on the street the other day. Yep, little bouncy balls of yellow feathers for sale. Later that day I found out that one of the boys had bought two of the small chickens and took them home as pets (Are pets allowed? Not sure). The chicks were named Peeps and Momken they were fast friends, that is until one night when the boys brought the chicks to a MESP gathering. They were the life of the party until Peeps, at least we think it was Peeps, met his untimely demise under the crushing weight of an unsuspecting foot. Good thing I wasn't in the room when his guts splattered everywhere, there may have been more screaming.

Here's something I hate: Empty dorm rooms. This will all be over soon. Flashbacks to a cold December night standing in the English parking lot. I hate the concept of moving out--maybe that explains my aversion to packing. At least we'll live together again soon.

Welcome home Costa Rica. You and your family are on my heart and it cries for you.

Goodbye and Goodnight. As Margaret would say P in the ME.

Schedule

2005-04-15T07:24:00.000-05:00

I'm coming back someday. You need a lab science to graduate. Be in my classes.

BIB272 Inductive Study of the Bible 3.0 MWF 11:00-11:50
CAS340 Intercultural Comm-CC-WR 3.0 MWF 9:00-9:50
SPA101 Elem Spanish 4.0 MTWF 1:00-1:50
CHE100 Chem for Living 4.0 MWF 2:00-2:50
CHE100 Lab 0.0 T 8:00-9:50
HIS385 Am Conts. Dev:Inst Powers 3.0 MWF 3:00-3:50

They are Us and We are Them

2005-04-13T14:12:00.000-05:00

I'm back from my long absence and all you faithful blog friends of mine deserve a lengthy entry that you're probably not going to get. I don't know how to relate my travels so I will give a quick recap now and integrate that as it comes up--otherwise you'll have to see pictures and hear stories upon my return Stateside.

Recap:
While we were in Istanbul, another bomb went off in Lebanon and our plans changed quite a bit. We spent two weeks in Turkey instead of the expected one and ended up doing a tour of the Churches of Revelation. Next we moved on to Syria and then the Jordan. The Dead Sea is cool. Reading on a bus makes me sick. We stayed at 15 hotels in 21 days. Andrew, wrote more about all this read his site (andrewulasich.blogspot.com).

So last weekend when we got back I wrote 5 essays in one day and then I wanted to gouge my eye out. Once again I have renounced procrastination and have vowed to do better in the future. That excuriating day marked the end of our Peoples and Cultures Course and the beginning of Conflict and Change. The main part of Conflict and Change is the peace summit that we will be having in Cairo. I am now Hanan Ashrawi, a Palestinian human rights activist. Half of us are Palestinians and half of us are Israelis. For the next week we research like crazy and then we debate. We have decided that we are probably going to solve all the problems over there and then MESP will be famous. Or probably not. Anyway, its interesting, enlightening, and challenging. Studying this conflict is about so much more than the Middle East. It is a story of the human condition. I have been asked not to remove myself from this history, but to enter in. To view it from the ground. The more I do that the more I come to understand that they are us and we are them.

The past three days Abuna Elias Chacour (Abuna is the Arabic word for "father" within the context of the church) has been with us. He is a Palestinian priest who lives in Israel (author of Blood Brothers and We Belong to the Land--read them ASAP). He talked to us about the conflict, but mostly we just talked about life. Abuna Chacour is a man of peace, love and hope and when he looked around the room told us he loved us and that we were so beautiful to him I actually believed him. Usually, I hate it when speakers say that kind of thing. He said a lot of things about Christianity and faith that made me uncomfortable. Looking at the Eastern Church tradition has opened my eyes to many questions.

The other day I visited my Great Aunt and Uncle Leila and Fouad with my grandparents and Aunt Amani in Zamalek. My crazy Great Uncle Soupi also joined us. It is such a strange feeling for me--getting to know my extended family independent of my parents. Tunt Leila filled me in on a little history of the Ghali family. I served tea in Arabic and learned a few more vocab words. I also won a great victory when I finally convinced the ladies to sit down and let me do the dishes--I'm learning to play the game; I've become increasingly stubborn. I haven't been able to win this victory at my grandparents house yet, but today I received a promise that next time I would be allowed to do the dishes. And believe me I won't forget. This must sound ridiculous to you, I don't know how to explain it--I mean why its so important to me. Maybe its an Egyptian thing. That afternoon I was so thankful that I am here in Egypt--its times like that for which I came. I just ended up getting a whole lot more I suppose. Uncle Soupi drove me home. I only thought I was going to die a few times. He insisted I pay him with a kiss on the cheek and then insisted on waiting on the street until I waved at him from my balcony. He also interrogated me regarding our security here in Egypt--what can you expect from a retired police general?

More to come. I'll keep you updated about the debates and whatnot. I think I'll win.

Oh yeah, and although I'll be here a while longer, my program will be over in just a short couple of weeks. Stop sending letters, postcards, and small treasures to the address you have. I'll post my g-rents address as soon as I get my act together and remember to bring it when I'm at the internet. In the interim I think bhanson has it.

Time to fly. I'm out.

Everytime it Hurts

2005-04-08T11:37:00.000-05:00

Hello friends. I am posting to inform you of some sad news. Yesterday as we were leaving Jordan a bomb went off in Khan-el-Khalili, which is a tourist market in Cairo. Apparently the story is all over the news in the U.S. so I wanted to let you know that everyone in our group and all my family members are safe. We arrived in Cairo last night after an incredible journey--more on that later.

My heart is breaking for this place. and hoping for peace in the Middle East.

Many essays to write--not enough time or words to express what I want to say.

I'm out.

Searching for Strawberries

2005-03-22T13:44:00.000-05:00

Hello from Turkey where the keyboards are just a lıttle off so some letters may be foreıgn to your eyes. Just bear wıth me.

Fırst of all I need to record an event that took place before I left Agouza. So there I am ın my flat studyıng for my Arabıc fınal when ıt comes upon me that I must have strawberrıes--due to the fact that I had been obnoxıous all evenıng none of my flatmates were wıllıng to accompany me on my hunt for stawberrıes. So all alone on the streets of Agouza I come to the conclusıon that there are none to be found after nıghtfall. So a lıttle downtrodden I turned and headed home that ıs when I heard a shoutıng sort of noıse behınd me but then everythıng happened so fast and before I knew what happened I got smacked ın the face wıth a tomato. Now I have always thought that when you get hıt wıth a tomato ıt smashes all over the place but now thıs tomato--ıt was really hard and as a result my eye was all blood shot and my face was slıghtly bruısed--no one belıeves me but I promıse ıt was tender for a few days. I am pretty sure I was the unfortunate cıvılıan that got caught ın the crossfıre of some game. I mean who else gets hıt ın the face wıth a tomato? Probably only me and only ın Egypt. I love that country.

Turkey ıs really great too. Its a land of enchanted sunsets and sparklıng waters. We spent our fırst few days ın Istabul and wıthın the fırst 48 hours of our travel we had been to Afrıca (Caıro), Europe (east of the Bosphorus), Asıa (west of the Bosphorus), and North Amerıca (the US embassy). I ate some Turkısh delıght and pretended lıke the candy shop was on the other sıde of a magıcal wardrobe. I have learned so much about thıs country ın the past few days that I cannot belıeve I dıd not know. I mean have you ever heard of Ataturk--the man sıngle handedly created modern day Turkey and the publıc school systems of Amerıca do not even mentıon hım. You should probably pıck up a book about hım ASAP.

Tıme to go--sorry thıs was more about Egypt than Turkey. But honestly I do not really care because me wrıtıng thıs blog ıs more for me than ıt ıs for you anyway. I love you all.

Peace ın the Mıddle East.

Cairo Raining

2005-03-12T04:57:00.000-05:00

This weekend I stayed home in Agouza while most of the other kids went to Mt. Sinai to play for the weekend. Andrew and Amber stayed back too. I'm so glad that I'm here and not there. I took this weekend to put my life back in order, because from here on out we'll move at break neck speeds. Next week we are visiting the U.S. Embassy, the Arab League, taking our Arabic final, and then leaving for three weeks of travel on Thursday. So three loads of laundry later all my clothes are clean and my closet is organized. I even flossed my Chacos (my all-purpose sandals; not to be confused with Jon Chacko). Did you know you have to floss your Chacos? Its sort of a pain but if you don't your straps will get cemented in place. You have to run them under water and pull the straps all the way through one way and then the other. You'll be surprised at all the junk you'll see coming out and your hands will hurt, but it really is essential. I'm not sure why I said that...

It rained a lot this week. It was the closest thing to acid rain that I've ever seen. The raindrops were murky with pollution and the puddles in the street were festering with bacteria and strange disease, I'm sure. There are so many pot holes in this city and the rain filled them up creating huge ponds in the streets that did in fact slow down traffic for an entire day. Everyone was really concerned that if we weren't careful we would slip and fall on the wet pavement. I laughed and remembered the sidewalks during J-term. I can count on my hands the days during J-term that I didn't fall. I think Jill made it through two or three days with out meeting the pavement. I hear its still snowing in Upland. That's funny.

Thursday night Andrew, Amber and I went to my grandparents to do our homework. We worked hard on Arabic and then played cards with my grandpa and ordered rice pudding--delivered right to the front door. Everything can be delivered in Cairo, even MacDonalds. This is how we ordered that delicious dessert. You know how phone numbers usually have 7 numbers? Same deal in Egypt, usually. But as we have been discovering this place tends to defy gravity. So we have this mysterious 5-digit number that we supposedly can call from anywhere in Egypt and the rice pudding fairy will deliver it to your front door. I mean, it worked I'm not really sure how, but I do know that rice pudding in Egypt is way better than it is in the States.

Yesterday, Amber and I attended Amin's birthday party. (You know, the kid that wants to hunt penguins) He turned three. There was an ice cream man there and a face painting man and a some strange form of an Egyptian pinanta. I also met the pet flamingos, there are four of them and alledgedly you are allowed to pet them, except you have to be sure to grab their beaks first. The instructions sounded ominous so I decided to keep my hands to myself, although, I did have one of those destructive urges I sometimes get to try and knock their legs out from under them. I resisted. No, I'm not sure if they eat shrimp all day or not, but there legs were bright pink. I finally got to see my cousin, Nora and met her baby, Alex, he has bright blue eyes.

A verdict has been reached. I'm living in Fairlane (off-campus apartments) next year with (in order from oldest to youngest) Jenny, Bonnie, and Jill. (I go between Jenny and Bonnie in the birth order in case you were wondering). I am the luckiest girl on campus, don't even try to convince me otherwise. I'm not kidding Ekman, don't even try. I'm so excited to live with these amazing girls, but I feel a little bit of sadness as well. A big part of my heart will remain on 3CE. I mean, I love freshman so much, you're probably going to have to share your freshman with me. I'm well aware I'm no MVP, but I don't think you can stop me from playing football with you either. I think that's all I have to say about that.

My job prospects for the summer are looking rather bleak. And I thought job hunting from Indiana was difficult. Let me know if you wish to employ me, okay.

There are things I'm not saying, because I don't know how to say them and there are tears that aren't coming. Its good to know that Jesus understands me better than I understand my myself, because feelings are confusing and sometimes I wish I didn't feel quite so deeply. Talking to you last night was good and I'm glad we hung up laughing.

I'll try to post one more time before I leave for travel, but I'm not making any promises. Once travel begins you probably won't hear from me for three weeks. I'll do my best to clear it out, but my email will probably freak out while I'm gone. Just FYI. Thanks for reading and thanks for posting--your comments really mean a lot to me.

Pink Pants

2005-03-05T10:42:00.000-05:00

I really don't feel like updating today, but I think I should and there are things I want to say. So here we go, my life in 15 minutes or less.

I need to start be announcing that yesterday I bought pink pants. Maybe I'm just copying my cool roommate or maybe its because everyone in Egypt has pink pants and I thought I needed some too. Either way I have them and when I wear them I feel like a rockstar--yeah that's right pants can do that kind of thing.

Today we went to Cairo University to have a "dialogue of civilizations" with the students there. The campus was buzzing with activity and I could just imagine student demonstrations of all kinds taking place in the 60s and 70s. My parents went to school there and I know my dad likes to cause a ruckus and there are stories, but I don't remember all the details. I'll save that one for a rainy day. It was a pleasant day. The students we talked to were impressive, but many of there perceptions about Christianity were a little, um, ridiculous. They informed me that the Bible says that we have the kill anyone who converts from Christianity. We were discussing human rights and talking about freedom of religion, that point came up and my jaw dropped to the floor. We corrected them and one guy from our group told the story of the prodigal son, but it is frustrating to be workig so hard to understand this culture when I sometimes get the feeling that no one hear cares to understand me. I guess I'm just beginning to skim the surface of what misconception exsists on both sides and I'll be satisfied if by the time I leave this place I have learned to ask the correct questions.

Here's what I've been thinking about in the past few weeks. I don't think there is any difference between preaching the gospel and serving the poor, but I do think that there is a difference between evangelizing and preaching the gospel. Maybe I'm walking on thin ice, but I think that we are too concerned with pulling souls over this line that we can't see or define. I don't think its my job to get people saved, I think that is up to the working of the Holy Spirit. And of course I believe He uses us for that purpose, and that's where preaching the gospel comes in. In Egypt, its not often that people convert because of really good evangelistic methods and it usually happens because of dreams and visions. So pray for dreams and visions and pray that Christians would have the power to love, to preach the gospel to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, and proclaim freedom for the captives. Words aren't working. The four spiritual laws just don't cut it. I don't have the answers, and I'm not exactly sure how this looks in real life. All I know is that something in me has to change, and I think I'm slowing beginning to see all that, but there are miles to go before I sleep.

I have a confession to make. Jenny, brace yourself. Sometimes I don't like Bush. Most of the time I think he's okay. But, I'll have a conversation that just sets me off, or I'll see something on the news and get really worked up. I think I'll come out on the middle of the road of all this, but the verdict is still out. Everything is such a mess here and I its hard to see what could've been different and no one's perfect, but that just needed to be said. And here's the other thing I'm thankful that I'm allowed to say express that opinion, because opinions of Mubarak should not be voiced out loud in this country. I am proud to be an American.

I have my Islamic Thought and Practice final on Monday--I'll be sad when that class is over. I have not often felt that way at the end of a class. Two weeks of Arabic left--I'm practically fluent. And when Arabic is done we leave for three weeks of travel to Turkey, Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon. We're going to Petra--that's were Inidian Jones was filmed. Needless to say we're all extremely excited. That's all I have tonight. I'll see you on the flip side.

The Color of Pepto

2005-02-27T12:16:00.000-05:00

I've just returned to Agouza from the Luxor-Aswan Nile cruise and it really was wonderful. There are one million temples to see and approximately 2 billion tourists to see them. I took lots of pictures, don't worry. But I think I took more pictures of the funny tourists I saw than anything else, I especially love the Asians who go around wearing doctor's masks over their mouths. I mean maybe I'm not being PC, but I think the Asians have got it right, because I read in a Lonely Planet guide book that living in Cairo is the equivalent of smoking a pack a day, and to confirm my suspicion 18 of the 21 students that went on the cruise last week experienced intense Phaoroh's revenge and/or bouts of puking at one time or the other. My stomach still sort of hates me right now, but don't worry I'm on the rebound. Did you know that pepto bismol turns you tongue (among other things) black? Because it does and it might suprise you the first time a little bit.

Thankfully I wasn't ill until the tail end of our journey and I thoroughly enjoyed my time aboard the M.S. Neptune. One night Cecka, Lizzy, Dena, Jenna, and I laid huddled like little spoons on the top deck (five of us in a space made for three) and we watched the stars go by and we talked for awhile about the cute Lebanese boys, and then about the nature of God, but mostly we were quiet and this is maybe my favorite moment so far. Because I could hear myself thinking and it was good to be close, body and spirit, to these girls that I am coming to love. Then I longed for other girls that I love and for that night in a WDM backyard after puff painting t-shirts for Challenge, the princess bed, that redezvous in Fishers, a mattress on the floor of the room across the hall, a bed lofted high with three girls dangerously giggling on top, our rebellious night in the cornfields, a water drinking contest, "camping" that chilly fall night in Phil's backyard, and an Egyptian birthday celebration. And so what I'm saying is that I miss you.

Hey, I have something really cool to tell you about. We visited the Luxor temple and it was one of the most interesting sites I have ever seen. Okay so here we are marching through an ancient temple built in honor of Ramses the something or other and dedicated to Amon-Ra (do you honestly think I remember these things?) alongside all those Asians and then we hear the call to prayer and we are maybe a little confused because the call to prayer goes with Islam and we were in a temple to ancient gods. Then, we turned a corner and look up and there was a mosque, still in use, that was built a very long time ago sort of on top of the ruins (built before the ruins were found); that was interesting in itself. But next we started seeing Coptic crosses engraved in the walls and hieroglyphics on blocks that had been turned upside down; we were looking at the ruins of one of the first churches in history. We maybe walked where the apostle Mark walked. Okay maybe that didn't come out as fascinating as I thought--I'm a nerd and I'm not deleting that paragraph.

Here's something funny I want to tell you about. According to my ancient ancestors after you die there is judgment, where Osirous (don't quote my on the exact name our spelling)weighs your heart against a feather and if your heart weighs more than a feather then you're in trouble if not then you're in. Okay, but before they do the grand weighing in you make a set of confessions like: I never disobeyed my parents, I never forgot to feed the poor, I never murdered anyone ect...And there is a hieroglyphic associated with this confession and the little picture is of a man shrugging his shoulders in a "wasn't me" posture. I laughed and thought of all the times we've said that and that stupid song it makes me think of.

I am finally begining to feel like I am making good progress in Arabic and that I'm not lying when I tell people on the street that I speak a little Arabic. Mostly I just nod and smile and I've probably answered yes to things I shouldn't have, but really what can I do. And when I come home I'll have to teach you some Arabic words, because its almost as funny to interject Arabic into English as cussing. Okay I need to be going now, because procrastination is the name of the game and time is running out and hopefully I have all the research I need.

Maybe They're Overworked

2005-02-21T14:21:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I leave for Upper Egypt and the Luxor-Aswan cruise; I will return on Saturday. I'm excited for this chance to see a different side of Egypt, but at the same time I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by this stack of essays, reading and Arabic I am packing along with my flip-flops and camera. Then I stop for a second and remember that it is my privilege to do homework on the Nile, because there are a lot of people slaving away in the Upland tundra. Yeah, I pick Egypt.

Nothing earth shattering has taken place in the past few days. My time has been spent working hard and talking to Muslims at the American University in Cairo about Islam. Its super intimidating to approach complete strangers and ask them questions about their religion, but I'm proud (maybe in the bad way) to report that I've done it four times without a hitch. Okay, maybe there was one hitch. I talked to this very sophisticated person, Nancy, who is doing her grad work in business management. She was knowledgeable and her English was beautiful--maybe my best interview. Then as I was getting up she asked if I would send her a copy of my paper when I'm done writing it. At that point I almost choked on my own spit. How intimidating to have this super intelligent Muslim woman read my first foray into understanding her religion. I think I might accidentally lose her email address...

There is something about Egypt that I think everyone should know about--it is sort of an evolution of observation that has occurred in the time I have spent here. When you first arrive in Cairo one of the first things you notice is that the city is crawling with men in uniform carrying intimidating (machine gun like) looking guns. As you stare out the window you notice all these soldiers; you see the tourist police following your bus and you are impressed with the Egyptian army and you feel safe because it is in the interest of the government to keep foreigners well out of harm's way. But then after a couple weeks you look closer and notice...is that duct tape on that gun? I know that duct tape is an all-purpose tool, but honestly, on a gun? And you wonder things like: why is that guard holding that gun pointed towards his head? And you think this can only end in tears. And then you maybe come to the shocking realization that most of those guns can't be loaded. A couple more weeks pass and as you become bolder you look into the faces of the soldiers at every street corner and realize that they are children--16 to 20 years old playing with guns and radios. Then it sort of becomes funny because you see them everywhere leaning on their guns and sleeping. I mean maybe they're overworked. Today, I walked passed a car that had four guards sprawled inside it dead asleep. I often find the tourist police officer that sits outside our building asleep cradling his gun across his chest--and then I feel real secure. Sometimes I stomp my feet and slam the door, inconspciously of course, and other times its my uncontrollable laughter that wakes him up, but then I feel bad. So I've taken to tip-toeing past, comforted by the knowledged that I have strong lungs and I could scream loud enough to wake him up if I needed him on the way up the stairs to my flat. I'm sure this indicates something about society, but I'm sick of analyzing so you are free to interpret as you will. Like Picasso or something.

Okay, that's all she wrote. Be watching for updates concerning my adventure in Upper Egypt. As a closing remark I am going to take the time to give a little geography lesson maybe you can impress all your friends or maybe you've known this since you were ten: Upper Egypt is southern Egypt. I bet you want to know why its because the Nile is the only river in the world that flows from south to north making the "begining" of the river in the south. And now you know the rest of the story...

I Feel Like a Quote out of Context...

2005-02-19T07:38:00.000-05:00

What a week. My host family was wonderful and welcoming. Mona, the mother wanted so badly to marry me off and the 10 year old did her best to convert me to Islam. Don't worry there is no ring on my finger and I resisted the passionate evangelistic efforts that were headed my way. I got a unique view of what Isalm looks like to a regular family and as I continue to see deeper it all makes more and less sense with every step I take. So I sojourn on. Crack open the Qu'ran. Search the pages of the Bible and now I read the red words with extra care. You see, in Islam the word became book (the Qu'ran), but in Christianity the Word became Flesh. And so I read John 1 again and begin to internalize the truth that I feel in those pages. Friends, the world is so complex and history ebbs and flows and we forget what has gone before us. Sometimes I want to stop trying to make any sense of it, to stop thinking and just accept what I've been taught. Too bad there's something in me that won't allow me respite. So keep moving forward because I have to know the difference between the truth of Jesus of Nazerth and what the church has made it. Only gold can go through the fire unscathed so I confident that if what I know is truth than I can't deconstruct it, and the parts that are falling in around me must be done away with anyway. Welcome to the the world of post-modernity and welcome to my life my brain is on overload and I love it. I am studying what matters and I am learning what is important.

On a lighter note, last night I watched Titanic with my host family. It was seriously hilarious. I know I sound heartless laughing about all those people dying, but that wasn't the funny part. The funny part was that I couldn't get them to understand what it means to be cold. What it feels like to breath in on a cold, dry day and feel needle pricks on your lungs. Why is there ice in his hair? Why are their lips blue? How do you translate "hypothermia" into Arabic? Anyone? And then they were asking me about the ship itself and I was trying to tell them that no, the actors weren't really in the ocean and no, the ship you see didn't really sink like that. Trying to explain the concept of filming a model is really hard. I also showed them pictures of Iowa and they were blown away by the cornfields. Is this heaven? No, its Iowa. So in the words of Ben Folds sometime "I feel like a quote of context" out of place and oceans away from understanding this place that I am in, I miss you guys, but I love it here and plus while the temperatures are still dropping in Indiana its begining to warm up here the warmth wraps around me when I step outside and I think to myself that today might be a perfect day.

There are essays to write and interviews to do this afternoon so I'm leaving now and hopefully I'll talk to you soon.

Technical Difficulties

2005-02-16T07:26:00.000-05:00

As some of you have noted my email was experiencing some technical difficulties (I mean are you surprised?) I really thought I had cleared out my mailbox, but obviously I missed the "sent items" folders. Blame Phil Collins, the problem was the multitude of papers I sent to myself to print off for him at the end of last semester. So all I'm trying to say is that the problem should be remedied now and your emails should be able to safely reach my inbox. Thank you and goodbye. Oh yeah--Sara Boss, congratulations I wish I could've been there. Yeah, news travels fast doesn't it?

Hunting Penguins

2005-02-13T12:57:00.000-05:00

Uhh...I maybe want to pull my hair out right now. Because one false move of a foot under the table, a wire is knocked loose, and and a masterpiece is lost in cyberspace. I mean, all I'm saying is its not going to be as good the second time around.

Here is a synopsis of some of the things I said:
I am sick (I think my exact words were "my lymph nodes are as swollen as the Nile is long"). Homestays with Egyptian families started today, but my family couldn't come tonight (welcome to Egypt no one is bound by something as silly as a schedule) so I get to rest tonight and start my week with them tomorrow. I am thankful for that. There were also some things about "On the Run" and how I'm relatively certain it is the Eyptian version of Handy Andy (there were some hateful comments about Cirlce K included as well).

Thursday I spent the night with my cousin, Amir; his wife Yasmin (okay, so she goes by Jesse, but isn't Yasmin so wonderful and Egyptian?); and their kids Amin (3) and Lena (1 1/2). First, I should say that I had a marvelous time with them, my bed was warm, the company was wonderful, and the day relaxing. I love those kids. I'll just say they are much smarter than me, Amin speaks Arabic then German and then English. So it was hilarious when I tried to communicate with this linguist of a child. I attempted to practice Arabic, but who knows if he was teaching me Arabic or German. All I could do was look at him and say ich libe dich ("I love you" in German), because that's what Bonnie sometimes said to me before we crawled into our beds at night. This is what I know for sure: the child aspires to hunt penguins. I say shoot for the stars kid--if anyone will find penguins in Egypt it will be Amin. And then Lena is this charming little girl that you just want to squeeze and never let go. So yeah we ate a lot and I had a fabulous time. Amir and Jesse are great.

Friday night I attended a Better Life Service; it is singing ministry that my Aunt Nancy is involved in. The music was great, and although it was very different it made me miss Chorale. It was a powerful service and basically my aunt is a rockstar.

Life is moving quickly, homework is piling up. We aren't in camp MESP anymore, but I love my classes and everything we do feels relevant. I have learned more this past month than ever before.

I was planning on saying something of consequence today, but after losing my work I just don't have the time...I guess you'll have to keep checking in hope of hearing my profound thoughts.

P.S. Everyone should know that there is an Egyptian sitting next to me rapping along with Eminen, except I don't think he knows English so he's just mimicking the sounds and the mumbo jumbo result is really funny--I need to go before I do something socially unacceptable like lose it and start laughing out loud at him.

P.P.S. Really can the falling out of '04 please be reconciled? I mean we made it through the crash of '03 together I think we can survive this too...

Rockstar Monday

2005-02-07T08:34:00.000-05:00

First of all, Happy Birthday to Bonnie Alice Green. She has officially exited the teenage years and entered the looming twenties.

Next thing that I should announce, so, Saturday night I had returned to Cairo from Siwa and was slaving away at my Arabic workbook when out of the clear blue sky the phone rang. A little irritated that I was the flatmate in closest proximity to the phone I got up to answer the device. And who do you think was on the other end of that reciever? It was Brittany Hanson and Bonnie Green and S.Fo and Abby Baldwin and Anna Drehmer and the rest of 3CMTE in the background. Tech yes, I love those girls. It was the most wonderful surprise. Now, these ambitious girls did not have my number in Cairo and instead of calling my parents (who do in fact live in the United States) they thought it would be a good idea to call Andrew (who lives in Egypt) to get my number. I thought that was funny. In conclusion to this subject its a comfort to know that it is Rockstar Monday in Egypt and Indiana today.

Aren't you all just dying to hear about my weekend? Because it was incredible. We got on the bus around 1:00 pm on Wednesday to begin our 8-12 hour (everything is up to slight variations in Egypt) trek to Siwa Oasis. The accomadations were lavish in comparison to Alexandria and we all slept well that night. Siwa is this place literally in the middle of the desert; it is this tiny town that survives because of the underground water sources and springs there. I began my first day with breakfast at this garden paradise like place with 5 other students. We watched the waiter leave to go shopping for the ingredients for our breakfast after we ordered and even though it took about an hour and a half to eat one meal we enjoyed every second of our time at the New Star Restaurant situated there in a grove of palm trees.

That afternoon I had what I am going to go ahead and call the most incredible experience of my life. I know that's a bold statement, but just wait and see. Before I begin: Mom and Dad don't freak out, it really wasn't all that dangerous. Okay, so that afternoon we hired some men to take us the Great Sand Sea, which is a region of the Sahara (yes, I am in Africa). The 24 of us plus a random Australian that we met piled into 4 land rovers that looked much like relics from World War II. As our vehicles left the pavement and plunged into the sand I was struck by the sheer expanse of the landscape; the sand dunes stretched before my eyes as far as my human vision would reach. So, these crazy men in the land rovers took us on the ride of our lives, at several points in time we executed 90 degree angles coming down the dunes. After that we stopped and played in the sand for awhile rolling down the hills and burying ourselves in the sand and then struggling to climb to the top again. After the crazy land rover men had quite fully gained our trust they asked if anyone wanted to ride on top of the vehicle. Severly out of character, I thought it would be a good idea to volunteer to go first. So, I climbed up the rickety ladder along with two other girls and I was having a good time, only slightly terrified, when we approached one of those 90 degree drops I was telling you about. I almost cried and then I realized that I was having one of the most incredible experiences of my life. The others had to beg to take a turn, because I felt like Indiana Jones or Cleopatra or something except even cooler than that and I just can't even express.
Later we visited what used to be a reef and I scavenged for sandollars and other shell type things. Apparently the Sahara used to be completly underwater. Then we watched the sunset. And later that day we walked back to the desert to watch the stars...maybe I'll say more about that later. In short the desert is amazing, one of my favorite things and you should probably go sometime. That night in the shower 3 tons of sand came out of my hair, ears, eyes and nose.

The rest of the weekend was relaxing and a good break from the chaos that is Cairo. There is probably more to say, but I don't have to engry to say it. So for now that's all and maybe you'll be hearing more soon.

Parallel Parking and Weekend Adventure

2005-02-01T12:51:00.000-05:00

This is going to be quick, but there is much to tell so hold on. First, Madame Butterfly. Okay, so I'm a little embarassed to admit this and I'm sure JR would be so dissapointed, but I left before the third act. I mean we were so, so far away from the stage and I had some problems hearing and the "translation" was from Italian to Arabic. And after 2 1/2 hours of this I was satisfied with the synposis I read in the program

Okay lets talk about Alexandria. As I foreshadowed, accomadations were a little sketchy (my very hard pillow was sprinkled with pieces of mortar from the ceiling and I think we had to open the back of the toliet and reach in to get it to flush--you know things like that.) That wasn't really a problem though it just made coming "home" to Agouza feel that much more like coming home. The highlight of my weekend was meeting this Muslim family in the public garden there. We played football and ate cake and and chatted about politics and religion. Don't be decieved those veiled older ladies can put up quite the fight on the field. Then we went to Chili's and I had Mexican--mmm rice and beans. We did some other touristy things, but you can see those boring pictures when I come home.

I went out with my Aunt Nancy today and just for the record that woman can parallel park like nothing I have ever seen. I think I was appaulding at the end of those antics. She also talks on her cell phone while weaving though traffic so be sure you're wearing you're seat belt before she gets started. It really was a great afternoon--we went shopping for some essentials for my flat.

Tomorrow we leave for Siwa Oasis right after class. Also tomorrow I need to have all prepositions memorized and be able to describe the placement of objects in the room without pause in Arabic so I should be going now. I didn't proof read this so, yeah, maybe there are typos. (Sorry Alex)

P.S. Crossword puzzles most definetly fall in the small treasure category. Thank you. I laughed out loud and the others thought I was crazy...

Cats, Arabic and Other Ancient Things

2005-01-27T07:45:00.000-05:00

Have mentioned the cats yet? Because I believe they deserve to be mentioned. The proliferous population of cats here in Cairo are at the forefront of my mind this afternoon as I remember back to this morning when I was awakened by two of them going at it in the alley behind my flat. I can't figure out why people compare "girl fighting" to cat fights because from the sound of it one of those cats is dead or at the very least severely injured. Cleo wouldn't last five minutes in this place.

Speaking of survival Arabic class started yesterday and my head is spinning. I am in the process of learning the alphabet and I am a little worried that the other kids will laugh at me if I mess it up Sunday in class (yeah, the work week ends on Thursday and starts on Sunday here. I don't remember feeling this way since roughly 1st grade. I am excited to learn this language, but it is incredibly difficult. There are very few absolute rules and the entire language is sort of like a free for all as far as vowels go. I'll be sure to keep you updated.

Yesterday we visited the Citadel located in Cairo and toured five beautiful, historical mosques in the area. Upkeep of these places is very poor and the pollution in the city is obviously affecting the integrity of these structures. Similiar situation at the the Egyptian Museum. The building is drafty and very few of the artifacts are behind glass or roped off. There are some rather stern signs ordering vistors not to touch, but that made me want to touch things even more. I promise I only touched one or two ancient things and then I felt an immense amount of guilt about the oils on my hands that are now eroding those artifacts. Note to self: follow all rules concerning ancient things...

Last night we also saw sufi dancing aka whirling dervishes. This was clearly a show for tourists, but traditionally the sufis work themselves into a trance while they twirl and this is a form of mediation and worship to God. All I know is that there was this guy in a skirt that spun around for 30 minutes without stopping and that the cymbal man was moving his hips in ways that surely would have gotten him kicked out of Taylor.

Tonight we are going to the opera. Madame Buttefly. I am wearing fishnet tights and no one can stop me. Everyone thinks I'm being scandalous, but I keep telling them I'm not and that "fashion tights" are in style. Maybe I'll wear high heels and just push everyone right over the edge.

Tommorow we are headed to Alexandria for out first weekend adventure. Emily,our intern, gave us some rather ominous warnings that included: you probably won't want to shower at the hotel we're staying at, you shouldn't leave anything at the hotel while we're out, and you probably won't sleep well. Why are we doing this again? I'll tell you what I think upon my return.

This entry is officially dedicated to JTB2K4. Remember where we were a year ago? I was looking at the TJ and would like to announce that it was indeed 22 degrees below zero in Minnetonka. Could one weekend really have changed my life like that? Thanks for teaching me about community.

I am the Horse and Camel Man

2005-01-21T07:29:00.000-05:00

It's only been a few days since I last updated, but there is much to tell. I'll start with yesterday and move my way on back. Yesterday, 23 of 24 MESPers hopped in taxis and made our way to Giza. We were instructed to tell our cab driver to take us to the Aboul Houl (the Sphinix). When the Sphinix came into view we saw other members of our group and told the cab driver that "here is good," but apparently that wasn't good for him. We had made the fatal mistake of telling the cab driver we wanted to go horse back riding so he drove us directly to a set of stables down the road from our desired destination as I opened to the cab door there was literally a camel's face inches from mine. Meanwhile, I hear fifteeen different voices shouting: "I am the hourse and camel man." Everyone here is just so dang helpful...

Before I continue I must warn anyone that is even borderline PETA to cease and desist reading this entry; it might get messy from here. You are duly warned I will now continue. So when we finally arrived at the correct stables and we were all loaded onto our horses we headed to the sand dunes for a two hour ride around the pyramid area. Before we made it to the open desert (very much like Hidalgo) we made our way through what I can only surmise was a horse graveyard. Laying next to piles of trash along our path were countless horse caracasses at various stages of decay. Many our horses appeared to be overworked and underfed. The condition of some of the horses was somewhat disturbing and it was a reminder of the poverty that permeates the city and Cairo's inability to take care of much of its population let alone the horses. Nevertheless the ride was beautiful and now I am severly sore.

Friday: the highlight of my day was a visit to a service for girls in a poorer district of the city called Imababa. My Aunt Amani is a leader of this meeting so I went with her. The girls were fascinated with my nose ring, and at the same time slightly replused. I wear a ring on my right ring finger (in Egypt that is where you put your engagment ring) and in my very limited Arabic I was unable to convince the girls that I was not engaged. The meeting was incredible there were 150 girls meeting in this whole in the wall and a man leading worship on an accordian. The service ran over about an hour and a half. That's right count 'em 90 minutes...and nobody even blinked an eye. A wise woman once told me that time is not the comodity by which we live our lives...maybe she's part Egyptian.

Thurday, Thursday was the Feast of Sacrifice (I called it the Ieedes in my last entry, but that is a horrendous transliteration so I'll stick with the English this time). The alarm went off at 4:45 in the morning and I sort of wanted to poke myself in the eye. We met at the Villa where we have class by 5:15 and headed for the sqaure in front of the nearby mosque. We were several hours early for the prayer that would take place, but I soon understood why we had arrived so prematurely. We situated ourselves a good distance from the mosque since we would not be participating in the prayer. As we watched, the square filled with thousands of Muslims carrying their prayer mats coming from every direction and filling in all around us. There was a carnival feeling to the whole event with large bouncy balls and cotton candy being sold by wandering vendors. The call to prayer was sung over a very, very loud speaker system and lasted for almost two hours. My ears were buzzing like I had been at a Billy Joel concert or something. The prayer began just after sunrise and the sight of about 50 thousands prostrate bodies as far as U could see is something that I will not soon forget. The prayer lasted about 10 minutes and then the crowd began to disperse and we began to walk to the streets of Agouza and take in the sights, sounds and smells of the feast of sacrifice.

It wasn't long before we came upon the first of many butcher shops that was absolutely buzzing with activity. That first shop was having some trouble with one particular sheep...note to self: sharpen knife before its time to slaughter something. The Muslims were celebrating God's provision of a ram and Abraham's obeidience in his willingness to sacrifice Issac. Each family that can afford it has a sheep or cow slaughtered, gives a portion to the poor, a portion to thier neighbors, and then they feast. The street stank of with that salty smell of blood and the gutters literally ran with the scarlet liquid. The slaughter of the sheep causes me to consider the meaning of the phrase "the lamb that was slain" now that I have a somewhat vivid mental imgae to go along with it.

On a lighter note I do think that I learn something new everyday. Did you know that cows can climb up stairs but can't go down? The morning of the feast the boys woke up to find a cow in the corridor outside thier seventh floor flat making quite the fuss. The neighbors apologized for the noise and with a finger across the neck indicated that it would no longer be a problem in just a few hours. The boys told us that they did a pretty good job cleaning it up but in some places you can still see remnants of the noisy cow may she rest in peace.

So in conclusion I suppose I'm not in Kansas anymore. Everything is new and different. Welcome to the far side of the sea. I heard that there was a bad storm in the States. It's been cold here too, the other day it got all the way down to 7 degrees Celcius. Instead of shouting "Welcome to Egypt" people on the street have also been exclaiming "Welcome to Alaska." Did I mention that Egyptians are also hilarious?

Yellow Paint and Gasoline

2005-01-19T09:12:00.000-05:00

So every Tuesday all 24 of the students involved in MESP go to different service project sites around Cairo. Yesterday my first day at the Good Samiritan in Moquttum hills. Moquttum is a district of Cairo were the government placed impoverished victims of the earthquake that hit Cairo in '93. The Good Samaritan serves as a conference center, orphange, and preschool...its a very well run place. We began our day with some cleaning and the Egyptians were practically rollng on the floor laughing at the way we were cleaning. They were also bewildered by the fact that I don't speak Arabic. "Khalas?" (or nothing) they ask. "Khalas" I reply. Its frustrating that I blend in so well until I open my mouth, but I am begining to remember a few things. Of course my accent is heinous to an Egyptian ear. After our cleaning exploits we were sent to paint some doors yellow. I have never experienced paint quite like this (definetly not TU ETC quality) It was all thick an sticky and my hands were soon covered in flourescent goop. When I was finished with my door the director of the project, Nabil, walked in with a can of gasoline that he proceeded to pour over my hands to clean them. I don't recall ever being quite that flammable before. So cross it off the list of things I've never done. Washing hands in gasoline--check. The kids in the preschool are on vacation, but when they come back I thing we'll be doing some teaching English which I'm looking forward to.

Tomorrow is the Ieedes. Comprable to Christmas in Islam...apparently the streets will run with blood as an animal sacrifice is invovled...we'll see how that goes for me.

from the Jockey Internet Cafe

2005-01-15T09:02:00.000-05:00

So the past few days since my arrival in Cairo have been jammed packed. Maybe the longest and shortest 48 hours of my life. I live in a flat in Agouza (a district of Cairo) with 6 other girls. The are three of us in my room--Liz is from Michgan and got engaged four days ago so she's in for quite the emotional adventure. My second roommate Claire, who fully embraces being a child of the 80's, is from Georgia, but goes to school at Northwestern in MN. I think we're going to have a wonderful semster. The program emphasizes the community here and I anticipate enjoying this environment greatly. Classes start next week, but for now we are getting the hang of living and functioning in the city.

Yesterday we visited a mosque for Friday prayers and had endless meetings filled with information that very few of our jet-lagged memories will be able to recall. Last night, after some confusion, I managed to communicate to my Aunt Amani where my flat is and she picked me up for a short visit with my grandparents. It was fabulous to see them and in case anyone was wondering their Christmas tree really is a sight to behold.

Tonight is dinner at Khan el Kahlili and whirling derivishes...I'll keep you posted.

Next Stop Cairo

2005-01-11T14:09:00.000-05:00

I left Des Moines on Sunday and I am in the great state of Indiana spending my last few days this side of the Atlantic with my roommate, Bonnie Green. Today, we drove up to Taylor through torrential rains; this is the last time I'll be in this place for a long time. Tying up loose ends, seeing familiar faces, saying goodye, and sharing a bed with my roommates one last time. It's good to be here and I am begining to feel a sense of finality with every moment. Yesterday, Bonnie and I had an extremely successful Wal-Mart run, then a naked burrito at Qdoba, Dance Dance Revolution, and a special guest appearance by B. Hanson in Fishers. I can't think of a better use of my time. B. Harty left for Costa Rica today--I was thinking of you today. Be watching for my next post from some exotic internet cafe in Cairo, Egypt...

First Entry

2004-12-29T14:22:00.000-05:00

This will be my means of communication concerning my time spent in the middle east. I am excited to share my musings with all of you lovely people. Until then... peace.