Constructing Kasun, Educator

It’s a nostalgic moment, one that is producing some dissonance for me as well.  I’m about to leave Egypt, and I find myself not wating to go.  I don’t want to stay here forever, but there’s so much left to see.  I’ve also been treated incredibly well by the Fulbright office here in Cairo, and, more specifically, our Egyptian academic advisor and the woman who oversees our program from the Fulbright office.  These two women have accompanied us throughout the trip and have been very open about answering our questions, even very difficult and critical ones.  They have also made sure that we have not had to worry about the smaller problems related to our always comfortable accomodations, delicious meals, and access to Egyptian points of interest.

Last night, our groups split into two and visited two different Egyptian families.  We went to my academic advisor’s and met her husband, her son Amr (nine), and her daughter Salma (six).  They couldn’t have been more gracious.  They live in one of the nicest districts of Cairo, complete with landscaped sidewalks (an anomoly in most parts of otherwise gray and sandy Cairo) and upscale shopping.  Their apartment, on the seventh floor of their building, was mostly white and decorated with a minimal amount of furniture.  An Egyptian soccer team was playing a Tunisian team last night on television, and the men (Egyptian and American) gathered around to watch, while the women sat on the classical-looking sofa and chairs and talked (after a quick trip to Salma’s bedroom where we were introduced to her various toys and got to look at her class picture from the German school she attends).  I felt so welcome in her home and really enjoyed being around her bright and funny kids.  It felt so nice to feel both normal and welcome. 

I prepare to leave for Israel tomorrow.  I am frustrated that there’s so much more I want to learn here but also realize the summer can’t go on forever and that my life back home is waiting for me (and I miss my family and friends!).  I’ve gotten used to things here.  I suppose in the stages of cultural adjustment I’ve just hit the “honeymoon” phase, and, I am fully aware that I’m experiencing Egypt at its very best—with excellent guides, wonderful accommodations, among interesting people.  Nonetheless, I don’t want to go away from the dusty streets, the men in their long robes (some, not all Egyptians wear these), the European-styled buildings, the pharoanic influence of history on contemporary life.  I will miss these warm people and their eagerness to help me out.  I will miss koshary—a national dish of rice, vermicelli, chick peas, lentils and fried onions topped with a tomato sauce.  I’ll miss the strange traffic and chaotic order of the streets where men on bicycles pass by with large sheets of bread pitas on their heads.  I’ll miss the ancient taxis in their black and white paint jobs.  I’m even romanticizing the incessant beeping of car horns.  So long, old country.  I hope to return one day.

I could offer many specifics about the state of politics in Egypt and the Middle East.  Instead, I’m going to try to use broad strokes to deliver the main ideas we received from three of the last sessions in which we participated.  One speaker was the Chief of the Cabinet of the Secretary General of the Arab League, another was an expert in Egyptian-Israeli relations, and another was an expert in the media in Egypt and the Middle East.

First, there seems to be little optimism about where the Middle East is headed, particularly in light of the way Palestinians are treated inside Israel and the way the war in Iraq has headed.  Our Arab League speaker explained that dialogue has been cut off at the knees at almost all passes by the US for resolution from the increasing chaos in Iraq.  When asked about prospects for the future, he explained that things are only going to get worse before they get better, both for Iraq and the region as a whole

Our specialist on the media also explained that because of the rise of Al-Jazeera, there is an increasing sense of kinship among the various people in the Middle East who receive their information from this news outlet.  While recognizing that no news outlet is unbiased, she explained that the West, particularly the US, has a very schewed view of who Al-Jazeera is (and, please note, there are other satellite stations that compete with Al-Jazeera, but they are less watched because of the positive reputation Al-Jazeera has here).  She explained that the media in the US are very reluctant to include the Arab perspective in the news and that we don’t dialogue with voices representative of the Middle East.  Every morning, I have received an English newspaper printed here in Cairo, and almost every day, above the fold on page one is a photo of the latest atrocity committed against the Palestinians.  This is a perspective we don’t often see in the US. 

The Egyptian-Israeli relations expert explained that most Egyptians do not think they will ever again be at war with Israel, but that the perception of Israeli Jews is a negative one here.  That is also what I have observed in my research, both formal and informal, here in Egypt.  I am not surprised by the perceptions, but I am surprised at the seeming lack of willingness to engage in dialogue with Israelis.  The expert explained that she had never been to Israel before.  I just talked with my academic advisor, a professor here in Egypt, and she said that in a conference in Jordan last year, an Israeli woman was discussing how much she sensed the reluctance of Egyptians to even want to talk with her because she is Israeli.  I wonder what can come of the conflict when even the experts cannot talk with each other. 

I don’t want to convolute Iraq and the Palestinian issue here, but they seem to be intertwined among perceptions Egyptians have.  Egyptians and other viewers of Al-Jazeera have said several times that they see what is happening to their “brothers,” and somehow the US and Israel blend together,and the anger people feel about the situation is directed at both countries, including their people.  Egyptians see the way Palestinians are bombed and mistreated and the way Iraqis live in fear and are mistreated (think Abu-Ghraib as a simple example), and a lot of anger forms.  Historically there has been deep mistrust and rumor-mongering here as well about Israel—that Israel is, for instance, selling shorter, more toxic cigarettes to Egyptians on purpose (this was during the 90s, and there have been other documented situations similar to this as well).

Then I don’t have understandings of the way the Gulf states operate, the kinds of agreements they form, the role Iran and Syria might be trying to play.  I’m not sure anyone has this understanding.  But the more antagonism develops between the war in Iraq and the troubles of the Palestinians, things are not going to get better.  I think of my friend who lived through the war in Lebanon last summer who was disgusted by Condeleeza Rice’s depiction of the situation as the “birth pangs of a new Middle East,” and can’t help but question the sincerity of the rhetoric.

What can be done to ameliorate this situation?  Dialogue and trust building.  A willingness of stakeholders to give up possible gains to see real democracy and education. I know there have been some attempts.  There’s such a deep history of mistrust, it’s hard to make sense of the dialogue.  Like the speakers we talked with, I believe that things will, unfortunately, get worse before they get better.

Hello readers,

It has been a while since I was able to log on.  The Nile Cruise, while lovely, had very expensive and slow internet access at about $27 US an hour.  I’m back in Cairo (feels like home!) at the free wireless Internet cafe.

I’m getting a little anxious about leaving Egypt.  I’ve been loving the people and the culture here, but Fulbright takes us on to Israel.  I just spoke to my husband who affirmed that I will have an enlightening experience there and that I need to suck it up.  He’s right; I know.

Tomorrow I’ll be at the Suez Canal and the Arab League.  Details forthcoming.

I hesitate to write this post, but I think it’s a necessary one in light of my experience here.  I’ll attempt to describe the way Egyptians see the world.  The title of the program I’m participating is, after all, “Egypt Through Egyptian Eyes.” 

Before proceeding, I remind the reader that while my Egyptian group leaders are doing everything they can to convey Egypt from their perspective, I can only understand as much as my own background allows me.  So while I try to convey the thoughts of Egyptians, this post ends up being more about me and my ability to gather insights and my inability to perceive things.  My world here has been limited to the highlights of Egyptian tourism, a few highly impressive academics and my limited observations in the streets.  And, obviously, I will be making several generalizations which simply do not apply to all Egyptians.

Probably the central focus for all Egyptians, regardless of social class, is the family.  The nuclear family does what it can to stay glued together, even after marriage.  It’s common for a child to get married and move into an apartment next to his parents’, for instance.  The family is being challenged, today, however, by divorce.  Our tour guide says that about 30% of marriages are now ending in divorce.  I guess this comes from a few factors.  One problem is that meeting material needs in this country is fairly difficult.  Even for people who are doing well, their travel time in the highly congested city of Cairo (where most people in Egypt live), takes its toll on a person’s well-being.  We’ve spent an hour and a half trying to make it from the airport to our hotel, which without traffic can take only 15 minutes.  Another problem is the westernization of the culture.  Now that modern goods and modern notions streaming through satellite images have been introduced, it’s hard for people not to imagine a different lifestyle from the traditional one Egyptians had for so long.

But back to the family…  Friday is the first weekend day for Egyptians here.  It is solidly respected as the day that the family must be together, spending time and eating.  Egyptians for the most part seem to enjoy this custom, and I think it maintains the social fabric.

One of our speakers is the child of Iraqi parents who grew up in New York.  He has taught at the American University of Cairo and documents people’s lives in Egypt, often for the use of human rights publications.  He said he has chosen to live in Egypt because of the warmth of the people, their generosity, and their wit.  No doubt Egyptians tend to be very funny.  I asked for a bottle of water yesterday at a small café, and the young man behind the cash register deadpanned a solid, “no.”  After all of three seconds he smiled widely and said, “Yes, I’ll even buy it for you!”  He didn’t buy me the water, but he sure pulled my leg.  I’ve also noticed how kind and hospitable Egyptians are.  I see them spending time seated in cafes, talking and joking with each other for hours on end.  This tends to occur mostly among men, but sometimes women are involved as well.

I get the sense that Egyptians, unlike many Americans, are expert at enjoying the present moment.  The wide, wide smile that Egyptians have seems to reveal a zest for life right now.  I personally find myself waiting to save my energy in some of the things I do in life, while I sense that Egyptians find a way to be more fully present.

***

This last part may be a bit confusing.  In southern Egypt and northern Sudan (they border each other), a group of people called the Nubians live.  Not all people in these regions are Nubian, but many of them are.  They are culturally distinct from other Egyptians, and I feel I need to add this information to both demonstrate that people here are not all one culture as well as to show my ignorance and lack of understanding.

The Nubians resisted conquer from the pharaohs and maintained many of their unique cultural practices throughout Egyptian history.  Currently, unlike most Egyptians who live in some of the most densely parts of the world, they live in desert villages nears the Nile in southern Egypt.  The construction is largely beautifully painted adobe in shades of slightly purpled light blue and gold with burnt red trim.  There is decorative painting on their walls, and they live several families to each compound with a center area, almost a sort of open-air atrium.  So far, I had the sense that Nubians were fairly well-accepted in Egypt, despite the fact that they choose to settle their disputes with their own methods and operate in many ways outside Egyptian society. 

Last night, we ate at a Nubian house (which opens itself to tourists).  We were fed delicious okra and tomato dishes, breaded and fried beef, baba ganouj, chicken, rice, among other things.  We sat on wool woven rugs on the sand and small cushions.  After dinner, a few of us were discussing how well the Nubians were accepted.  I guessed that they mixed fairly well with Egyptians.  Not so, one of my colleagues explained.  He said he was talking with another  man in a public place and said, “Oh, that guy over there is Egyptian.”  The response was something to the effect of, “Oh, no, he’s black.  A Nubian.  I’m Egyptian.”  Physically, Nubians tend to have darker skin than most Egyptians, true, but they are still Egyptian.  I was surprised to be so quickly disabused of my misunderstanding.

Following the dinner, we were allowed to sit in on the beginning of a Nubian wedding in the same village where we ate.  This was a real wedding, not put on for tourists—though they do sometimes allow tourists to witness their event both as testimony to their hospitality, and, I suspect some sort of payment, though I don’t know that for sure.  A seven-member band played the same song with several variations for over an hour while we were there, African drums and keyboards providing all the music to the lead singer and the two men providing back-up vocals.  A flock of about 20 or 30 young boys moved rhythmically to the music while we sat atop mats nearby and watched.  Most of the men wore the customary long robes  and the few women we spotted were largely covered.  We sat inside an adobe walled area the size of a third of a basketball court, outdoors, where the kids danced across the dirt.  The boys smiled a lot at us, and some of our group members snapped up their pictures.  I felt a little odd being one of the few women out publicly, and I worried about my skirt, which reached just beneath my knees, as being too revealing, though there was nothing I could do once I was there.  I enjoyed the music but had to leave with the group at about 1:45 am, as they were too tired to stay for the rest.  We hadn’t seen the bride or groom yet.  I would have liked to have stayed all night to have witnessed it. 

I’m still in Upper Egypt (which is actually the southern part of Egypt, considered upper Egypt because of the way the Nile flows—which, unlike other rivers, moves from south to north).  We’re taking our third round-trip flight to get to Abu Simbel where we’ll see another ancient Egyptian temple.  We just came from the Aswan Dam—2 trillion tons of stone blocking the Nile from its regular flooding but also the silt which would otherwise fertilize the agriculture along the Nile. 

But it’s time for a break from the chronoligical account from my travels to describe a few phenomena here.  I’ll start with one of my favorite things to visit anywhere I travel—the market.  I’ve been to three markets now, one I described briefly in Alexandria, another in the old part of Cairo known as Islamic Cairo, and a third last night in Aswan.  Additionally, every historic monument, aside from lots of armed guards (the government wants to ensure that no more of the tourists are threatened after the few bombings that have occurred in other parts of the country in the 90s) has a group of stalls selling traditional Egyptian handicrafts.  I’ll try to offer some general terms about what you might find at these locations.

First, the markets are social experience.  I know not to expect a sticker on most prices and that I’ll have to barter.  I hear from the men who work at each small stall (few women are working there, presumably because the tradition of society is to keep them out of such experiences):

 Hey, you want two camels?
Today you are a queen, which queen you want to be?
Where are you from?  America?  Oh, Alaska!

I have many beautiful things, all pure silver and gold, just have a look.

You want a scarf?  Pure cotton, come inside.

Here’s one used on the men, “Hey, Rambo, what’s the matter?  You don’t want to make eye contact with me?”

And then, after you have refused to drink tea or Turkish coffee with the merchants and start the bargaining, it goes something like this:

“How much is this?”
“For you, good price, Egyptian price,” he begins with a broad smile and leans a little closer to me.  “170 Egyptian pounds,” he says with great satisfaction, as if the deal is complete.
“Ahh,” I start with a conciliatory tone, “That’s still too high for me, how about a better price?”

“Well, for you, I can make a big discount,” then he rubs his chin for a moment, pulls his calculator closer and taps out a new number, turning the keypad toward me so I can have a look.  Now he sounds even more satisfied as he says, “160.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s still too high,” I try to look a little bothered at this point. 

“OK, ok, my friend, you tell me what price you want to give.”

“Well, I don’t want to insult you.”

“No problem, just give me a price.”

“Ok, how about 40 Egyptian pounds?”

“Oh no, you break my heart!  I cannot accept this price.  This is pure Egyptian silver!”  Then he pauses.  “OK, ok, just have a seat.  Maybe we can do something better,” and then we spend another five minutes negotiating the price, smiling and I attempt to leave at which point the vendor chases me into the street and offers a better price.  Finally I settle on 95 pounds and walk away with a beautiful and probably somewhat over-priced pair of earrings.

Not all negotiations result in a sale.  Sometimes you don’t like the thing you’re looking at enough, sometimes you don’t like the vendor.  I’ve been asked for kisses on the cheek twice now, and I remind the vendors that this is “haram” which means “prohibited” in Arabic.  I suppose Western women are inclined to oblige some of the men here from time to time which then encourages men to ask for such things.  I don’t find it threatening; I just know that I am not considered in the same league of women who are native to Egypt and wish I could be more respected.  Again, I remind myself that it is my western predecessors along with women in the media who have helped the men here have these ideas about us.  I can see why women here might want to wear the veil.

When I’m not interested in buying anything, I’m able to think more about what I can see.  Every ten or twenty stalls, there is a huge stall of spices sold in large cylindrical containers.  You can smell the cumin, coriander, hot pepper, paprika, dried mint, and others.  I asked a woman who worked at one stand what each spice was used for.  Each spice has unique properties.  Hibiscus flowers are made into a cool water drink which are good for the stomach.  Other spices are good for the throat, others for headaches, and still others for digestion.  There are several flowers which I cannot identify that are used for making tea.  The ground cinnamon here is as satisfying as passing your hand through a sea of diamonds. 

There are plenty of daily consumption goods here as well.  Some storefronts have home repair goods, many of them appearing to be recycled nuts and bolts and tools.  Other storefronts are full of brightly colored plastic products and thin metal cooking pots and utensils.  I understand that many of the goods are now imported from China, something familiar to most countries these days.  Other storefronts have racks and racks of brightly colored scarves which women will use for a veil or headwrap.  The colors and patterns range from demure ivories to woven rainbows of color.  For tourists, there are large, free-standing hooka pipes (these are used for smoking tobacco only—something many members of my group have begun to enjoy in the local cafes).  You’ll also find traditional Egyptian galabiyas for sale (long, thin material cloak garments—plain and light colored for men, often highly elaborate with beadwork for women). There are also lots of western style clothes for sale for both genders as well.

I’m on the roof of a four-storey cruise ship on the Nile River.  I’m passing by date-bearing palm trees, corn fields, sugarcane, and other crops.  Water buffalo rest along the shore for a break from the heat, reaching nearly 110 degrees today (during this time of the year the temperature can go up to 120 here, so we’re actually lucky).  Occasionally we pass a village of adobe homes and a mosque minaret reaching above the rooftops.  Behind some of the fields,I see dry sand-colored mountains.  We pass traditional faluca boats on the river.  Their sails look like two bat winds extended into the air extending over what appears to be calm blue waters.  The ship has just changed the music from 60s soul to more traditional Arabic music with woodwinds and drums.  I welcome the change; it seems to complement the scenery better. 

The ship is extremely comfortable, luxurious even.  Our rooms feel like the inside of swanky Manhattan hotels with lush shiny fabric curtains, very soft mattresses, shades of burdundy, gray and black plush carpeting with simple geometric designs.  Those colors run through the ship in the restaurant and the large bar area where we wathed a belly dancer last night.  The belly dancer wasn’t the best, but it was entertaining for the sake of the novelty for those of us not used to seeing belly dancers.  On the roof, the couches are incredibly comfortable with plush white linen pillows on wicker.  There are linen tents above us and a small pool at the end of the boat made of thousands of neatly laid tiles.

I feel a bit uncomfortable about the luxuriousness of this trip.  I wonder what the local people think of our ship when we dock.  Is it the way I imagine the impossible lifestyle of someone like Donald Trump?  Do I deserve these accommodations, particularly at the expense of US taxpayers? 

***

I just left Edfu Temple, the most well-preserved ancient Egyptian temple with its 59 foot ceilings and columns and the preserved slabs of granite and marble above.  The temple is a monument to the falcon-headed god of Horace  On our way out, we passed by the stalls of several handicrafts merchants.  I tried on some shirts, wanting to bring one back as a souvenir.  I’ve noticed that the salespeople here are both very eager to be familiar and also extremely hungry to make their sales.  I wanted to buy a simple cotton shirt and scarf, and the salesman at one place, who had already had his arm around me, touched my shoulder several times as well as shook my hand six different ways quoted me the price of 380 Egyptian pounds, about $70US.  I offered a significantly lower price, and he refused to go lower.  Our bus was about to leave, and I left the goods on the floor of his stand.  He followed me and tried to bargain, all the way to the foot of the bus stairs.  The bus driver couldn’t open the door fast enough, and I felt desperate (as I suppose the salesman did to make his sale).  He and a friend tried to gesture prices to me from outside the bus, but I refused to look at them.  I felt bad about this, but I was tired of the touching (which they wouldn’t do to Egyptian women) and the dickering over the price.  Enough.  And then I remember the dollars and dollars I have brought here and the boat I don’t really belong on and wonder what I’m doing here at all.

I had lunch where I was able to choose among a vegetarian entrée, veal steak or perch.  I chose the veal.  The waiter brought out several pieces of silverware, made sure my water glass was never empty, said, “Yes, madame, is there anything else I can bring for you?” among several other polite overtures. 

Ancient Egypt is overwhelming.  I was inside the tombs of the Valley of the Kings as well as the Valley of the Queens yesterday.  I trekked down 300 feet to see the tombs, the paint that has survived 4000 years on the walls depicting the journey into death and the hope for a good reincarnation.  Rich indigo, yellow, and reds brought to life the king and queen in a gentle and modest embrace, a scene I have viewed now in the Egyptian Museum and other places—demonstrative of the importance of the loving relationship between men and women throughout the ages in Egypt.  I also visited Luxor Temple and saw how a Muslim mosque was built atop some of the ruins and how the mosque is still used today.  I marveled at the columns in Kunkam Temple, 134 of them reaching up 69 feet.

We travel to another ruins site soon.  I think I’ll go downstairs and cool off a bit.

“One cannot achieve true faith until one wants for one’s neighbor what he or she wants for himself or herself.”  When I asked the advisor to the Egyptian Grand Mufti what he thought was the most beautiful part of Islam, he offered this response, as written by the prophet Mohamed. 

That speaker ended a day of activity related to Islamic Cairo and Egypt.  I’ll come back to him in a bit.  We began with a lecture on Islamic art and architecture from an architect who explained that the art that comes from Islam is a “state of being.”  Heexplained that in Islam, all activities are meant to be contemplative and acts of art, even pouring milk over Cornflakes (his example).  Shortly afterwards we walked through the King Mohamed Ali Mosque and Islamic Cairo.  The mosque is a beautiful structure with many European influences, including basilica-like domes and marble column work.  The Islamic elements of geometric  designs in window screens and in marble work were also present.  Islamic Cairo has houses from the 1300s still as well as ancient mosques and sisterns for the poor to take water.  The sisterns are no longer used but were used centuries ago when there was no running water in the city—it was a way to make an offering to the poor.  There is also a large, touristy shopping district where I satisfied my desire to buy a nice piece of silver by researching the going rate for a gram of silver.  I finally settled in with Imar inside his tiny market stall, who insisted on offering me a cup of tea (the tradition in many of the market stalls here).  I didn’t take the tea but did manage to reduce his original asking price by half.  Some of the seminar participants feel we should just give them what they ask.  Maybe it’s the years of living in Mexico where negotiating prices was the norm that make me want to bargain down to market value.  There’s a lot more I could say about this, but I’ll continue with Islam.

After a quick swim back at the hotel, I joined the group in the Thebes Conference Room (inside the palace of the hotel, a room with grand ceilings and its own Islamic architecture with geometric shapes around the windows in shades of green and yellow).  We listened to a discussion about Islamic feminism.  The most important point I took was that, according to our speaker, women were not relegated to the role of staying inside the home until modernity.  It was only in the 19^th century, she said, that scholars began interpreting the Koran to say that women should stay inside the home.  She said that there are many other interpretations where women do have an equal status to men, and the Islamic feminists are trying to point to those points.  She said they have had some successes in Egypt, particularly in securing the rights of women in the workplace to offer, for example, better pregnancy benefits than offered in the US. 

Back to the advisor to the Grand Mufti (a mufti is a state-sanctioned wise person who interprets the Koran, somewhat similar to the appointment of a bishop).  The advisor completed his PhD with a dissertation on interfaith dialogue at Indiana and then lived in New York until 2004.  He explained the ten most important parts of Islam to us, many aspects of which are quite similar to Christianity.  Naturally, our group had a lot of questions about Islam in a post 9/11 world.  He explained that when he lived in the US, he wrote articles, even for the New York Times, spoke at over 30 churches and synagogues, and worked with other Muslims in the US to help explain that 9/11 was not a representation of Islam but rather an aberration of what he referred to as Islamic “exclusivists” or extremists.  He explained that Islamic people are just like people everywhere—with their own problems, wanting to please God, wanting to do their best in life. 

What struck me was that if we had had this dialogue with a great scholar of Buddhism, for example, our questions would not have been as political.  Yes, we’re in Egypt, a 90% Islamic country.  But it seemed like a pity for me that instead of learning more about Islam and how it influences the daily life of Egyptians, we spent our time looking through the lends of 9/11 and its aftermath.  I don’t want to discount the tragedy and the repercussions of 9/11, but I do wish we could get beyond politics and work toward understanding each other.  That’s why I started with the quote he shared.  Like so many religious traditions, there are sentiments and words of wisdom that resonate with us all.  And I left our discussion with the thought of trying to want for my neighbor what I want for myself and felt that indeed there are places of common understanding if we can begin to hear each other.

Yesterday the eleven of us who wanted to do an all-night hike to the summit of Mt. Sinai loaded into a small bus at 11 pm.  We traveled about two and a half hours through the desert, from sea level to about a mile high to arrive at the base of Mt. Sinai, the location where Moses is said to have received the Ten Commandments.

We had a private guide from a travel agency in Sharm el Sheik and met a local bedouin man who would help us get up the 2,500 feet of mountain as well.  I shook his hand and noticed it was calloused all over the palm but that he had kind eyes.  We received breakfast provisions which I quickly dumped into my laptop backpack as well as flashlights.

We couldn’t see how big the mountains surrounding us were, so we really had no idea about the scale of what we were attempting, as none of us are mountain climbers.  Several of us agreed in hindsight that it was good not to know how steep the climb was, as we may have been quickly dissuaded to attempt the climb.

For two and a half hours we ascended sand and rocks and the occasional high step on foot.  We stopped every 30 minutes or so and drunk in the stars and the Milky Way, as there is little light pollution in that part of the desert.  We also replenished fluids, I noticed that my back was soaked through and even penetrating my back from the work of the climb.  An Irish-born American named Dominick brought up the rear and chastised the rest of us for “loafing” each time he found us resting.  At one point he sang us an old Irish folk song recounting Ireland’s history between jokes about the climb. 

At our third stopping place we were finally able to see the moon, about only an eight full, and we could see the rest of the moon around that small part that was illuminated.  We also noticed the shooting stars.  It made me think of all the things we miss because most of us live in urban areas now. 

After those two and a half hours,our path converged with the more popular camel path which brought up about 100 other pilgrims, many of them on camels.   We waited at the starting point to the 750 stairs that lead to the top of Mt. Sinai.  In my head I thought, “Great, about the equivalent of two Central American pyramids—I can handle this, even if we’re at 7,000 feet.”  Little did I know that would be the hardest part of the climb.  The stairs were constructed specifically to be arduous so that the religious people who used them would focus more on being repentant through the difficulty of the climb.  At this point, the beginning of daylight was breaking through, casting a rich pink and orange glow above the other mountains whose peaks were now visible.

After stopping a few times on the stairs, I finally reached the summit.  Jagged edged-mountains surrounded us on all sides, mostly the color of chocolate with some rounding to the edges.  I hadn’t anticipated having any kind of special spiritual moment atop Mt. Sinai, but I found myself pushing back tears on several occasions.  The sun came up over the ridge in the distance, and the colors on the rocks transformed from dusty grays to reddish browns. 

I was so overwhelmed by the beauty, the simplicity of the mountains with so little human contact, the possibility of God revealing Himself there, the contentedness of the other people atop the mountain.  I just kept wanting to cry and even now find tears forming in my eyes as I write this.  I atemy hard-boiled egg and a roll with butter on the edge of the summit, looking out into the mountains.  I remembered that despite the complications of an oftentimes frustrating life, real beauty is waiting for us.  It was a real gift to experience this.

After about a half hour on the summit, I walked around the top and saw the large Ecuadoran group I had been traveling up the steps with.  They seemed to be on a religious pilgrimage.  I approached the seldom-used chapels (they were built for use a long time ago for the religious who used to climb the mountain for spiritual purposes—simple buildings of stone and mortar).  Another group sang a religious hymn I couldn’t recognize.  Finally, I descended about 100 feet to a small group of easily-constructed wooden shacks where coffee, tea, and hot chocolate are sold.  The bedouins who run these five or six shacks also have mats and blankets where you can rest.  Several of us piled into the humble accomodations and slept for a bit.  The owners were kind and seemed glad to have us there.  After a few short winks I went back outside and sat with another man on our trip who was also outside.  Many of the twenty or so bedouin who run the place were outside.  Some sat atop rocks and smoked; others helped donkeys bring large plastic containers full of water into their shacks.  The men were dressed in the traditional galibaya (long, dress-like cloaks) with head wraps which are effective in keeping the head and body cooler (I later used my beach sarong atop my head upon our guide’s advice and found myself cooler).  Some of the boys wanted to trade for my friend’s watch and his pedometer.  He wasn’t willing to give either up, but we had a nice conversation in the few words we could exchange (they knew more English than we knew Arabic) about our ages, our spouses, and if we had children.

It took us about an hour and a half, maybe a bit more or less, to desend the trail to St. Catherine’s monastery, a Greek Orthodox monastery dating back to the 4^th century.  We started our tour at about 11 am and saw their rich collection of theological texts, one of the best groups of religious texts in the world.  We also were allowed inside the sanctuary, which dates back to at least the 6^th century.  We finished with a traditional bedouin style lunch where a coop for women’s handicrafts thrived.  On the bus back to Sharm el Sheikh, the bus was silent as we slept.

Janet Jackson’s “When I Think of You,” thumps along as I sit inside the Movenpick Hotel’s internet cafe, just a few hundred feet from the sands of the Red Sea. We’re here for a couple days of relaxation and also probably to take in one of Egypt’s larger sources of revenue, the tourist resort of Sharm el Sheikh.

Unfortunately I’ll have to late-post my former blog entry that is waiting on my laptop. It’s all about education in this country and what I’ve learned about it so far.

 I spent the first part of the morning yesterday meeting with the Director of English Instruction for Egypt with another participant in the Fulbright Seminar.  We have the assistance of a professor for our curriculum projects, and she kindly made the connection with this woman.

The Ministry of Education at first glance looks like a white 19^th century palace.  To the right of the main building, we ascended the elevator with the director.  We walked down a hallway toward her office where a sign on the wall proclaimed that all people are responsible for preserving Egypt’s heritage, not just the government.  Her office was full of furntiture that didn’t match very well (reminding me of education offices in the US) and books that were piled high in stacks wherever there was room.  She explained that she is responsible for reviewing and approving all materials used in English instruction for both government and private schools.

We discussed how Egypt is trying to train its children to be good citizens as well as how it is trying to prepare students with any kind of international curriculum.  Egyptian students start studying English from first grade, and almost all the Egyptians I’ve come in contact with speak some amount of my native tongue.  What they can’t say in English, they willingly manage to communicate through smiles and warmth, and I’m grateful and impressed by this.

It appears that there aren’t strong measures taken to teach students to be responsible to their community or schools, let alone the rest of the world.  The odd thing is that Egyptians are so skilled at dealing with foreigners; maybe they don’t need an internationalized curriculum to teach them that.

The woman further explained the many challenges facing the education system.  Sometimes classes are up to 70 students.  Egypt has developed its own books with an international publisher for its own national English curriculum.  We were given copies of the fourth grade books (books are supplied to students for free here at the government schools, and the majority of Egyptian attend them).  Nonetheless, she explained that teachers are instructed in how to have students work in groups and how to do portfolio assessment instead of relying solely on written exams for grades.

Afterwards we continued with the group for a lecture about reform in the Egyptian education system.  The Ministry of Education has written and distributed standards for learning, and they are now beginning a system of professional advancement with raises so that teachers no longer have to rely on tutoring to support their salaries, which are almost unlivable.  They are rolling out these reforms this summer.

After  lunch we visited a non-governmental organization called iEARN which connects children in over 100 countries to make the world a better place, primarily through the Internet.  Children have then participated in international conferences and publications.  The results are impressive, and we met some students who have been participating in the program in Egypt who explained that these projects have changed their lives and their sense of ability to respond to the world around them.  Afterwards, I interviewed a government teacher for my project (I am trying to understand the Arab Israeli conflict from a teacher’s perspective here and in Israel and demonstrate similarities between them).  She told me she teaches 40 students per class and was glad her numbers were so low and that she loves teaching.  She was so warm and insightful.  Afterwards I hailed a taxi to the hotel alone and took a quick swim to work through my thoughts and energy at the hotel.  We followed up with a lecture about the nomadic bedouin peoples who used to live in Egypt (some remain, but very few).