So, I’m a big fat flake. I am dreadful at “checking in,” “staying in touch,” and “updating,” and what ever else have you, if you haven’t already deduced. So here’s my first (and let’s face it, probably my last) post. Before I get into the juicy details of Egypt (yes, in my world, even the arid desert and its eroding cities are juicy, thanks), I want to have a bit of a pleasant preamble.
First thing’s first: Jake, your last post (I haven’t read any others, unfortunately) was a real delight. I think everyone participating in this blog, as readers and writers alike, can learn a thing or two from your poetic prose.
Next: I should account for my flakiness. In addition to my frank lack of inclination and desire to chronicle my time here in Egypt, I haven’t had a real, substantial internet connection for a reasonable amount of time since I left Cairo mid-June. So there.
Third: Some of my hella-fabulous LE volunteers recounted an event that happened here, on this blog that was just downright riling (which, you better believe I’ll use as an excuse to account for the aforementioned laziness and apathy I’ve had). In response, (please pardon if you feel I’m being belligerent) let me just say that is our duty and responsibility to candidly and unrestrictedly recount the happenings and occurrences of our travels. Indeed, not to tell the whole truth, not to capture the emotion of the moment, not to accurately and comprehensively account for every significant detail is to defeat the purpose of this blog. A blog shouldn’t be a portrait but a snapshot. Take home message: Long live the freedom of speech, thank you very much.
After that: For future reference, Wikipedia has a fascinating and illuminating article about blogs. I’d like to direct you to the section titled, “Political dangers.” There’s a few lines about happenings in Egypt in the recent past.
Finally: I apologize for the characteristic American arrogance and self-righteousness that I’ve just embodied. I honestly couldn’t care less if I don’t get to bitch blatantly about someone or something. I just want there to be a bit of drama here in our communal writing space.
~Juicy~
One last thing before my update: this is the theme song to my stay in Egypt, which is both juicy and fruity: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FPnCLo4tLI I especially love the part, “I’ll be your lollipop, you can lick me everywhere.”
If I am not incorrect, I do believe the primary purpose of this particular blog—implied by the “LE” in the title—is to detail our experience teaching. So, I’ll be brief with relating the typical foreigner in a foreign country experience.
—First Impressions of Cairo—
Dirty. Hot. Busy. Old. Ugly. Thrilling. Intriguing.
I got off the airport shuttle bus to find my luggage had been lost (big surprise—I always lose it). As I was waiting in a very short line that was taking a century to queue, I saw four people smoking cigarettes in doors. Hmm, I guess Egypt isn’t a clean-air state like California and Florida. Saw Aminah—what a goddess!—and went to the lovely hostel. The guys there are hella-enthusiastic and energetic, possibly hyperactive. It was infectious despite jet lag and the Sahara sun. I instantly fell in love with the fresh juice and the rippling haze of sheesha. The air-conditioned rooms and blankets that weren’t secretly rugs of New President’s Hotel were a welcomed after Desert Safari. Orientation was quaint, though I did have a terrible case of the shits (I hope you don’t mind my deliberately crude and grotesque diction. I’d like to add some texture to our blog, if you will). A case that followed me to El Minya!
—First Impressions of other Volunteers—
Down-to-earth. Compassionate. Sincere (at times painfully). Affluent. Fabulous.
I held my judgment until I got to know them—which really means, if I let the true “Mean Girl” show, I wasn’t immediately overtaken with the desire to be friends with all of them at first interaction; I just coasted along, mostly getting to know Amy Aminah Teachout (she’s such a goddess!). But I have to say, it turns out that all of the volunteers have a place in Egypt, and most definitely a place in my life and heart. Amy Aminah Teachout, the goddess!, did a stupendous job picking us. GHURL, okkaaayyy.
—First Impressions of Minya—
Small. Beautiful. Relaxing. Cleaner than Cairo. Christian.
Like I said up there, the shits came with me all the way from Cairo to Minya. So I was pretty out of it and indifferent to everything and everyone when I first arrived. After my bowels were sterile from all of the evacuation that took place, I was my normal self and began to appreciate humanity and nature again. The contacts that Amy Aminah Teachout (the goddess) was in contact with (hah!) were quite pleasant. All of the people that we work with instantly seemed like family and honestly couldn’t do one thing more to make us feel welcomed and wanted. Bless their hearts! I also noticed that I was surrounded by Christians even though I was in a Muslim country. Not what I wanted, I must say. But you know, it the same thing as air conditioners and hot water—everyone would like to have them in their flats, but sometimes you just got to live with out. I happen to be without AC, hot water (technically I do, but in order for it to work you have to make the water pressure so high that it feels like a sandblaster. And quite frankly, I’m sick of sand.), AND Muslims. Damn. =>
—Teaching—
I love teaching and I love my students. They are not nearly as underprivileged and impoverished as I imagined they would be, and I was absolutely jaded by that. I have four classes that meet three times a week for two hours. Two are adult and the other two are children, of course, separated by proficiency. For the higher-level classes, I immediately told them that our class is a “family,” and in families we are all equal and must have our voices heard. They love the idea and so do I. It makes me feel more connected with them.
I start each class having the student recount his or her day up until the start of class. I then have them listen to music and fill in the missing words on the lyric sheet I hand out. They really like listening to Western music. For the final, I will give them a song I sang. I can’t wait to see their faces. After that, we sometimes discuss quotations from famous minds and souls and see whether we disagree or agree with them. Then we move on to the boring book (though I make it interesting and relate it to their lives, or at least I try). It's great fun and a wonderful way to spend the summer. Even though they aren't starving and suffering from congenital HIV, they deserve and want to learn English in their own right; I have a student who works to make anti-child-labor laws in Egypt, a warrior against domestic violence, and another who has be awarded a Visa by lottery and will journey to the US to live the American Dream. Overall, I am terrifically satisfied.
I do have to say that I prefer my adult classes to my children classes. I just don’t the thought of having to entertain them for half of the class and teach for the other. Kids are just a bunch of brats. But I love them. And I enjoy seeing their faces, tired at 9AM, and dreadfully confused because I am talking to them like they understand every word I’m saying. I like teaching them life lessons most; don’t act like a baby without its bottle when I have you a crap load of homework; if you can’t say sorry, then you can sit out side, thank you very much; and my favorite: yes, you do have to do the homework all over again because you did it totally wrong the first time.
That is not to say that I’m a complete totalitarian jackass and jerk. I sometimes pat them on the back when the come to class in the mornings—sometimes. Nah, just kidding. I like to play games with them and have them draw pictures. They love Simon Says and Heads Up, Seven Up. I think they’re happy, and I think I am too.
I have been quite fortunate to get to know some of my students quite well. Since I told the classes that we are big families united by the product of British Imperialism and American Capitalism, I’ve welcomed any and every opportunity to meet with my students outside of the class. This means delicious carbohydrate packed feasts at their houses! I got to look at family albums of two different students, smoke sheesha and drink a few beers with three others, learn to make falafel with another—my time in Minya has been quite the experience despite my dissatisfaction with some of the people and lifestyles with which they live. I think when you eliminate that inherent “I’m the teacher, you’re the student” boundary, things become loads more fulfilling for both you and the students. Always, always, always level the playing field. Make them feel just as important as they see you. (Mind you, this only works of the adults. You need a belt for the brats).
So, this isn't as juicy as I thought it'd be-- I was going to tell tales of delicious men in Minya, judging and condescending meanies, unhygienic, impolite, and uncourteous smelly men, people who look at you like Freudian Slabs of Meat to be 'tenderized', potential hookups, nasty videos on cell phones that make you sick to your stomach, sheesha that makes you puke, trains that smell like there are decaying bodies stashed somewhere, tourist police who put you into quarantine EVERY time you go the station, taxi drives that tell lies to get your guinea, old women who want to tap you, grown men who act younger than 12 years old-- you know, the usual, "I cannot believe I'm seeing/hearing/smelling/tasting/feeling this" that one usually finds in a foreign country.
Oh, there is so much more to tell—of personal transformation, validation, and affirmation; of tolerated domestic violence and a divided country with identity problems; and of life philosophy and the role “global volunteerism” should take in everyone’s life. Perhaps I’ll write again.
Okay BETCHES, I hope you all are enjoying yourselves: Julie, Jake, and Christine, your exquisitely romantic night out in the desert; Steve your bonding with the Minyans (get it!? Hah, what a hoot). Sam and I had a superb weekend: can you say partaaayy with booze, strobes, making out, hot women and men, AND western music. Appreciate. =>
I love you guys. I hope that we can get together one last time before we diverge. Julie—I am starting to doubt my traveling abroad plans. It just doesn’t seem meant to be. We’ll, talk. I will be coming to Cairo again next weekend for just two days—I have to pay Sam back (I didn’t bring enough money again—dumb ass, I know) and I want to see you guys one last time. Christine and Jake, what’re your plans for life after LE?
CALL ME: 0185554400
Holluuhh.
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