entEgypt
A camel rests in the sun near one of the pyramids in Egypt. Students visited the pyramids at Giza during their first week in Cairo.
127 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
A camel rests in the sun near one of the pyramids in Egypt. Students visited the pyramids at Giza during their first week in Cairo.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>CAIRO— It’s here. After spending 16 weeks living and studying in Cairo, Egypt, I’ll be back on American soil in less than two weeks. It came out of nowhere, but I’m excited. I’m excited to go back to where things are easy, safe and reliable. I cannot wait to see my family and friends and eat Chipotle until my stomach bursts. At the same time, I’m dreading the moment when I have to get on that plane and say goodbye — not only to Egypt, but to the people I’ve met here. God help whoever is sitting next to me on that first flight out of Cairo, because it’s going to be rough. I keep looking back at the first column I wrote, before I left for Cairo. I wrote about the questions I’d been asked and the questions I had myself. During the last four months, I’ve gotten answers to questions I never even knew I had. I now know that the best prevention for tear gas damage is to keep a cloth soaked in vinegar or lemon juice on you to breathe through. I learned how to fit approximately nine people into a single cab. I can now efficiently haggle for basically everything, and in Arabic, no less. As things wind down, I’ve tried to reflect on this semester. I can’t even process everything that has happened in the last four months. I just see it in glimpses. I see myself standing in Tahrir with tens of thousands of Egyptians, hearing them scream for democracy. I see the pyramids at Giza and the incredible hieroglyphics in Valley of the Kings. I see myself crawling through the tunnels of tombs and into burial chambers. I see the students on strike chanting outside of our university, the gates locked behind them. I see the library in Alexandria and the cliffs jutted up against the Red Sea. Right now, from Cairo, I can’t imagine being home. I can’t imagine walking into a Target and buying everything so easily. I can’t imagine not having to worry about water shortages or whether food is clean. I can’t imagine hearing English in public.I don’t know how I’m going to go out to the bars back home and show arm or leg skin after covering for four months despite desert heat. Heck, I don’t know how I’m going to shake the Arabic phrases out of my speech. I do know that reverse culture shock is going to be infinitely worse than the initial shock of coming here. I’ve made such good friends during this semester from everywhere. My best friends here are Egyptian, Polish, Norwegian, British and American. They’re people I never would have come into contact with otherwise, but, here we were, all thrown together into Cairo’s chaos. There’s no way to bond more quickly. In less than two weeks, we’ll have to say goodbye. Even as a small child, I wanted to come to Egypt. This country has been the place I’ve always most wanted to visit. I wanted to see the pyramids and eat falafel. I wanted to experience the politics and talk to the people. As a journalist, I wanted to come here to tell stories. I wanted to try and do what I could to bridge the overwhelming gap between east and west. For 20 years, all I’ve heard were America’s phobic tales of the Middle East. I wanted to get the other side of the story. I never thought I would get that opportunity at age 20. Even now, I can hardly believe how fortunate I am. I have done so much here — more than I can write down in a column. The hardest thing to reconcile is that there is still so much left to do, and I’m not going to have time. I’m just not. On Dec. 21, I have to get on that plane and fly home. I won’t get to see everything. But, in a way, that’s good. After all, it just means I’ll have to come back. — hannsmit@indiana.edu
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>CAIRO — I had never seen a teacher look so nervous. Then again, when you’re bringing in Dr. Mohamed Gouda, one of the head members of the Muslim Brotherhood’s political branch, the Freedom and Justice Party, you’ll probably worry things might get a little tense. My teacher’s fears proved valid, because let me assure you, things did get tense. The timing of Gouda’s visit was uncanny given everything going on in Egypt. It had been intended for weeks that he come talk to us, but he happened to come on the heels of President Mohamed Morsi’s recent controversial decree and the release of the new constitution, which Egyptians will vote on via referendum Dec. 15. Many Egyptians believe the constituent assembly was rendered completely corrupt after nearly all minorities and non-Islamists left in protest to the Islamic slant. They believe the constitution is therefore invalid. Because of this, Egyptians have taken to Tahrir Square in the hundreds of thousands to demand Morsi relinquish his recent power grab and rewrite the constitution with a new assembly. As all of this happened, Gouda sat down to talk to our class and answer questions. The entire session was conducted in Arabic, with a student translating to English for us six international students. It was the most uncomfortable class period of my life. He didn’t veer much from the script. He started with an introduction in which he praised the new constitution, saying it is an amazingly fair and balanced portrayal of the Egyptian peoples’ desires. He boasted that 6 million people had turned up at Cairo University to support Morsi and his constitution. He emphasized that Morsi’s essentially dictatorial powers are temporary. He argued that the liberals in Egypt are divided and want chaos and that they do not appeal to anyone outside of Cairo. He called them “elitist” for not going to the rural areas. As he talked, our translator stopped at one point, shook his head, looked at us and said, “This is all complete bullshit.” Most of the class was devoted to questions. Students didn’t hesitate. One girl, near tears, asked him about women’s rights in the constitution. One clause as currently stands — clause 41 — is designed to protect women’s rights, and she said it’s not enough. Women in Egypt are not equal. Gouda’s response was, essentially, “We are taking that article out. Women are just like any other citizens in this country, and to reinforce this, we don’t want to have any separate section for them.”In Egypt the idea of protecting the minority from being crushed or ostracized by the majority apparently does not exist. Gouda said the Muslim Brotherhood hopes to bring Egypt up in world rankings and double its GDP in the next six years, to which another international student said, “Because that’s attainable.” The discussion went on and got more heated, until students could barely contain themselves from pointing out the disparities between things he was saying and things everyone else was thinking. How can a ruling party be so out of touch with what the rest of the country is thinking? We complain about that in America, but let me assure you, the discrepancies in America are like holes in the ground compared to the Marianas Trench that is the misunderstanding in Egyptian politics. Gouda denied reports that Morsi will step down if the constitution does not pass. He also said without hesitation that Morsi will not bend or compromise on his latest decree. He can’t for fear of being seen as flaky or easy tomanipulate. He will not compromise, although, according to the Muslim Brotherhood member, the liberals don’t want to talk anyway. That’s not how you build the foundation of a country for a diverse populace. That’s how you create revolution. We will be here for the referendum, and more mass protests are scheduled for the upcoming week. They’re going to have to figure something out. — hannsmit@indiana.edu
Tens of thousands of protestors flood Tahrir Square to demand the resignation of President Morsi.
Protestors rally in the street around Tahrir Square in Cairo, chanting "Bread, freedom, and social justice!"
The entrance to American University's downtown campus, off of Mohamed Mahmoud. It got caught in the fire between police and protestors throughout the past week.
Mohamed Mahmoud Street, the main street of the fighting, near Tahrir Square in Cairo, Egypt. Explosions from molotov cocktails have burnt the buildings as clashes continue.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>CAIRO — Two friends and I went to the massive, anti-Mohamed Morsi protests Tuesday in Tahrir Square.We couldn’t find the words to make a comparison. We took a taxi to the square. The three of us are American, but we met with two adult male Egyptians whom a friend of mine had met last weekend at the protests. They served as our shepherds through the square as it filled with tens of thousands of people. Camera crews hung over balconies of apartments in the buildings surrounding us. Tenants have been renting them out for around $5,000 per day. We could see the burnt scarring on the building where Al Jazeera’s office had been set ablaze a few days ago. The main gate to American University was charred and surrounded by rubble, since it lies on one of the main streets of the fighting. The revolutionary street art, made famous during the Arab Spring, has been painted over nearly every day with new graffiti. Now, it features those who have died in the most recent protests. A shrine near the center of the square features the names of martyrs and flowers strewn in front of it. On side streets, dozens of ambulances waited. The only word we could think of while we were there was “crazy.” It was insanity. Vendors everywhere sold food, drinks, newspapers, flags, teargas and Guy Fawkes masks. People walked around painting Egyptian flags on others’ faces. The longer we stayed, the more crowded it got.A sea of people filled not only the square but the bridges leading toward the island where our dormitory is located. There were more people than we could see. Fighting spontaneously broke out on the side streets. In the main square protesters chanted, “Bread, freedom, social justice.” Their voices echoed off the buildings. The same chant was used during the Revolution. For the most part, the protest didn’t feel hostile, and that was perhaps most surprising. The other girl and I faced less harassment there than we do on typical Cairo streets. Egyptians helped us if they noticed we looked lost. The people were furious, but not at each other. They were furious only at Morsi. Morsi has shown no signs of budging in his latest constitutional decree, and people protest and continue to demand that he step down. Although he met with judges to try to compromise, they didn’t reach a solution. The Cairo judges have gone on strike in response. The people call the president Mohamed Morsi Mubarak, attaching him to the old regime. Tahrir Square was crazy, but just streets away, you wouldn’t know anything was happening. The rest of the city was silent. Outside of Tahrir, Cairo was essentially shut down. Schools were closed, and most people did not go to work. The area where we live was quieter than I’d ever heard it in my waking hours. There wasn’t even the continuous sound of incessant honking.Everyone was either at home or at Tahrir. The Muslim Brotherhood postponed its own protest in hopes of curbing any violent clashes between groups. As night falls, we’ll see if that hope remains true. Things are changing here. No one knows what Morsi is going to do. Will he refuse to back down, or will the people force him out? Do they have the energy to commit another overthrow, or are they too tired? All we can do is wait and see. — hannsmit@indiana.edu
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>I never understood how a country could become a dictatorship overnight. I always thought there would be warning signs.In Egypt, there weren’t. We woke up on Thanksgiving in a democracy. By the same time Friday morning, that had changed. On Thursday evening, Morsi passed a sweeping decree giving himself control over the legislative, judicial and executive branches. It forbids anyone to challenge him in any way. Just like that, Egypt slid back three years, to before the revolution. Immediately, people took to the streets. Across Egypt, Muslim Brotherhood offices were set afire by protesters. Tear gas wafted across Tahrir Square, the revolution’s center during the Arab Spring, as tens of thousands of people poured in to demand Morsi step down. In Alexandria, dozens were injured in violent clashes. Similar violence erupted in Port Said, Suez, and at times, Cairo. The media keeps saying that Morsi’s decree is a mixed bag. While he did assume sweeping powers akin to Mubarak, he also said he will retry those officers who injured protestors during the revolution. He extended the deadline for the constitution. His decree made it so that the Muslim Brotherhood-dominated constitutional assembly cannot be dissolved. His timing was uncanny since at the beginning of last week, all of the secularists, Christians and minorities, walked out on the assembly because they could not support its Islamic principles. Now, they can’t come back. On Friday, Morsi’s Coptic Christian presidential aide Sameer Morquos resigned, stating he was not informed and did not agree with Morsi’s decree. Egypt now has no parliament, no constitution and no way to check the power of the president. He said his dictatorial powers are “temporary” and are necessary to “preserve the ideals of the revolution.”Some say these are just natural aftershocks from the revolution. But this isn’t democracy. On the day after he received international applause for his brokering of the Hamas-Israeli ceasefire, Morsi made this decree. He has far overstepped the rights the people gave to him. His actions are straight out of Mubarak’s playbook — or even that of Nasser and Sadat, before him. You declare wide sweeping changes to consolidate power, but you throw in a few populist laws to appease. Those laws don’t mean anything — they’re just a carrot to try and soothe the people. This time, the Egyptian people aren’t buying it. Our dorm has been put on high security. Now, we must sign out every time we leave, even for five minutes, with our phone number and exact destination, in case we need to be reached immediately. Reporters in Tahrir Square who were in it for the long-haul are saying they have not seen protests of this scale since the revolution, or the protests against SCAF, the military council who was put in power a year ago, after Mubarak fell. The protests continue. There is a sit-in in Tahrir Square and another major protest is planned for Tuesday. Protesters say they will sit-in until Morsi gives in. It’s crazy to watch. As we gather in the downstairs area of our dorm and watch the protests unfold, we recognize streets. We know the names of the buildings that are on fire. One street where the main fighting is occurring is the entrance to American University’s downtown campus, where we go to school. There’s a chance it will fizzle out. There’s a chance this will be like many other protests here, and it will lose momentum, leaving things to settle into business as usual. Personally, I think Egyptians need to fight. I think they need to do whatever it takes to make sure that they get the democracy so many died for just in the past several years. Morsi is not “protecting the revolution” with this decree. He’s pulling the trigger on a second one. — hannsmit@indiana.edu
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>In Egypt, the one cultural aspect that remains most different from American culture is dating. Dating in Egypt bears next to no resemblance to dating in the States. A few girls here have started dating Egyptians. Every time, all of us are left with questions and confusion, because it’s hard for us to wrap our heads around the differences. The easiest way to explain it is that it’s like going back in time to high school. For many Egyptians, the first time they’re allowed to interact with the opposite sex without supervision is at university, so the time lag makes sense. Genders here are, for the most part, strictly segregated throughout public schooling.It’s kind of like a game, more so than in the States. A male Egyptian friend of mine told me it’s a struggle for power in the relationship. The guy will call and call and call, and the girl isn’t supposed to answer most of the time. Then he’ll just stop to test you. In Egypt, when you date or before dating, the guy will call the girl every day after school. You’ll talk on Facebook, using as many emotions as you can possibly jam into one conversation. Grand gestures are big here, so guys will write gushing notes about their feelings or show up at the dorm saying they “have to see you right now.” Just a few weeks ago, a stranger gave us a love note for a girl inside our dorm, begging us to bring it to her, although we’d never met either of them. Subjects like religion or family are brought up early on in order to make sure nothing conflicts. As most of us here are not Muslim, and most Egyptians are Muslim, that can get awkward really fast. You go on dates. You hold hands. At some point, you kiss. But a kiss here means so much more than a kiss in America. I think most IU students would agree that kisses and even more-than-kisses aren’t of much value to the average college student. In the States, you can kiss someone and never see them again if you want to. Here, a kiss can often be a contract to date that person. Of course, it’s better than some other Middle Eastern countries. In Saudi Arabia, for example, there are no movie theaters. Why? There’s no way to keep genders separated in a dark theater, and they’re afraid young couples might get frisky once the lights dim. None of us know how far relationships can be pushed here. Can you kiss? When do you kiss? If you kiss, are you automatically dating? We’ve had to almost unlearn the things that college has taught us about dating. I know the hardest thing for me to do has been to operate under strict and separate gender roles. For example, a few weeks ago I was at a bar with a guy. We were talking, but then he looked past me at another guy and started going off in rapid-fire Arabic. The only part I caught was, “I don’t want there to be a problem.”Once he was done, I asked him what happened. “He was looking at you, when you are clearly with me,” he said. I replied, “I am not ‘with’ you.” “No, I know,” he said. “But because you are physically with me right now, it’s my job to defend you.”I literally could not, in the moment, think of a response to that. Some of the girls here like it. As a friend of mine said, “I don’t want to like it, but I have to admit, it’s kind of nice.”Personally, I can’t make up my mind. It grates against everything I’ve come to believe about gender roles, sexuality and relationships in general. It’s so constricting and narrow-minded. On the other hand, there’s a level of respect in the relationships here that I have rarely seen in the States. I can’t decide if it is truly respectful or if it’s just demeaning to females. In the realm of romantic relations especially, I am all for liberalism and gender equality, more so perhaps than some people. I just keep reminding myself that it’s different here. Just as much as the food or the societal structure is strange to us, so are the dating habits. Whether for better or worse, it’s just different.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>Before I came to Egypt, I never understood what it’s like to be stereotyped based on your skin color. I knew such profiling existed. We all know that. But it’s different to know it rather than live it. After having lived it for only two months, I cannot fathom what it’s like to live it every day. I do know that after only two months, I snapped to the point of slapping someone.I’m a white female. I’m short. I have brown hair. In America, I blend. Here, in Egypt, my skin tone and facial features make me a walking target. Bear in mind that I’m talking about generalities. The feelings vary from Egyptian to Egyptian, but, in general, the standard Egyptian man sees American women as three things. Hot, easy and always ready to go. Because we look different, the harassment we endure is worse than that of an Egyptian woman on an average day. In Alexandria, a father harassed my friend and I in front of his own children, who laughed when he did so. Alexandria was bad, but it was in Cairo that I slapped someone.When I was trying to hail a taxi one evening, a group of boys swarmed me. They all started trying to touch my skin and ask my name.I ignored them, but, at one point, one of the guys grabbed me and tried to force me to kiss him. I didn’t even think about it. I just reached up and slapped him. In hindsight, that was not the best choice. But it worked at the time, and they scattered. Street harassment is an issue for all women here. But for Western women, stereotypes in place convince some men we are willing to have sex with whomever, wherever. That’s something no one should assume under any circumstances in any culture. It absolutely disgusts me. The stereotyping extends beyond sexual harassment in less dire ways.People also assume that because we’re Western, we speak no Arabic. Egyptians will openly talk about us in Arabic while we’re there. The looks on their faces are priceless when we respond in Arabic. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to not be stared at. When I went to Greece for the holiday, one of the most disconcerting aspects was how people didn’t notice me, didn’t take pictures or make comments. It was disconcerting in a good way. I hadn’t noticed until then how accustomed I’ve become to being the outlier. We all have. As I said, I’ve only lived it for two months. I keep imagining growing up like this or having to constantly combat peoples’ preconceived notions of who you are and where you come from based on the one thing you can’t help: your genetics.I can barely begin to imagine, because at the end of the day, I do get to go home and blend in. But I know I’ll never forget what that profiling feels like.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>For the first time since going to Egypt, I’m going to leave the country. For the Muslim holiday Eid-al-Adha, I’m flying to Greece, where my family is from. I’m going to try to do something no one in my family has done before. I’m going to try to go back to the village where my family started. It’s kind of a crazy story. One of my aunts set me up with a third cousin in Canada who goes back every year. She, in turn, set me up with relatives in Athens, who I plan to call and meet upon arriving. I will hopefully find out how to get to the tiny village in the mountains.It’s something I’ve always wanted to do — to go back to Greece, even if going to the village falls through.After living in the Egyptian culture for two months, I’ve been more convinced to go back to Greece. I’ve never in my life been so aware of my ethnicity. I’ve always thought of myself as a good ol’ fashioned, American mutt. My grandmother on my father’s side is as Greek as they come, but my grandpa is a cigar-smoking American veteran. My mom’s side is Swedish, Jewish and Irish. If we’re talking percentages, I’m mostly Greek. Although I grew up eating Greek food and have gone to a few crazy Greek weddings, I’ve never considered myself to be primarily Greek. In Egypt, that’s changed. When we meet Egyptians, one of the first things we are asked is where are we from. We respond, “America.”One time, a man laughed at me and said, “No, but where are you really from?”The only answer I have is Greece. Generally, in the Middle East, roots are of paramount importance. I think it’s hard, as Americans. We don’t really have an ethnic identity in the same way. If we do, it’s created based on countries of our ancestors, but it almost always comes second to “American.”But what does that even mean? If you identify yourself as American, what are you identifying with? It’s not an ethnicity. Does “being American” mean you agree with the government? The policies? You agree with the ideals set forth in the Constitution?It’s complicated. Because if you don’t agree with those things, where does that leave you?Here, it’s totally different. If you’re talking to someone from the Middle East, they never just say, “I’m Arab,” or “ I’m from the Middle East.” They say, “I’m Pakistani.” “I’m Iraqi.” “I’m Egyptian.” Where they live is irrelevant. It’s where they’re from that counts. Egyptians love their home country like no other people I’ve seen.They know Egypt has problems. They’ll admit to that. Egyptians will even joke about how badly they want to leave, but in the end, they nearly always say the same thing.“But I couldn’t leave,” they say. “I love it too much.”In a lot of ways, I’m envious. I’ve never really felt that compulsion to identify with a geological place, including America. I love America and am infinitely glad I grew up there, but there are so many things I disagree with. I don’t have the same dedication to my country as I see here in Egypt. It must be nice to be so certain of where you come from. I’m excited to go back to Greece. I’m hoping to have one of those moments, so perhaps I can understand.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>If there’s one thing I can say for Egypt, politics and stereotypes aside, it’s that the food is delicious. I hadn’t heard of most of the food I now eat daily before I came here, but I know it’s going to be a struggle to go back to American food. I eat tamaya and fuul everyday. Tamaya is an Egyptian version of falafel made with fava beans instead of chickpeas. Fuul is a spiced bean paste, kind of like refried beans. You eat both with flatbread similar to pita. About once a week, I go out for koshari. The unofficial national dish of Egypt is made with macaroni, rice, tomato sauce, lentils and fried onions mixed together in a bowl. Here, fresh juice is common. You can order a glass of mango juice at a shop, and they’ll grind the mango right in front of you, creating a pulp that you eat with a spoon and straw. Sugar cane juice is an Egyptian favorite. There’s shawarma, which is comparable to a gyro, but spicier. Pigeon is a common meat. You can get essentially anything in fig flavor. It’s all good, and it’s cheap. The exchange rate here is 6 Egyptian pounds to $1. I eat on about $5 a day, which couldn’t even buy me one Chipotle burrito in Bloomington.Food is one of the things I’ve enjoyed most here. It’s an integral part of Egyptian culture. Our Arabic teachers cook for us. Egyptians spend a huge chunk of time eating or drinking tea in cafés and restaurants. Everything seems to revolve around meals and eating. However, because of all the eating I’ve been doing, mostly at less-than-clean eating establishments, something is now eating me.The doctors here aren’t quite sure what. I’ve been sick on and off for most of this trip. They warned us this would happen before we left the States. Tap water here is rampant with sickness-causing bacteria and parasites. The food washed in that tap water is subsequently contaminated. Things are rarely refrigerated, and meat is allowed to hang outside in the sun all day. It’s not surprising that we’ve gotten sick. However, most kids recovered within a few weeks. Rather than getting better, my stomach started to swell. I decided that it might be a good idea to go see someone about it. For the next few days, I’m on five medications: one for parasitic infection, one for bacterial infection, one for fungal infection and the other two to reduce the swelling. Another girl at the clinic received four types of medicine for a similar problem. Welcome to study abroad.The medical system here is very different from in America. I have no idea what medicines I am consuming. When I asked, they simply said, “It will make you feel better.” The writing on the package is in Arabic. Back home, as you know, there are advertisements for medicine with the 20-second spiel of side effects. Doctors carefully explain the options for medicine and ask which you’d prefer. Here, you take what you get, and you don’t throw a fit. Of course, the doctors we visit have been approved by American University. They’re legitimate. But I could walk into any pharmacy here and get the same drugs without a prescription. There’s no screening process or questioning. The medicine, like the food, kind of feels like a shot in the dark every time. Personally, I’m just hoping it works. They say local medicines are better cures for local illness, and my American medicine hasn’t touched this sickness. Here’s hoping that phrase holds true. — hannsmit@indiana.edu
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>As of this week, my time in Cairo is halfway through. Two months ago, I was boarding a plane, terrified of becoming lost in half dozen airports and about what waited upon landing here. Now, I can’t imagine going back. In fact, I can’t really imagine home at all. All of us international students are starting to realize just how much we’ve changed in the time we’ve been here. It no longer scares me to be clipped by side mirrors on cars as they rush by on the narrow streets. I cross six-lane roads without much hesitation. It doesn’t faze me to see donkeys pulling loads of fruit or straw behind them on the highway. Arabic words are starting to mix into our every day speech. “InshaAllah” for hopefully. “Shukran” for thank you. “AlhamduAllah” as an expression of thanks or gratefulness. We’re used to bartering and flagging taxis. We’re used to riots every Friday and car crashes on a semi-regular basis. Some of us are used to getting sick from food poisoning after about one of every three meals we eat. I no longer notice the heat. In fact, the other day I felt cold in my room, and when I checked the temperature it was 75 degrees Fahrenheit. I think that was the moment that disturbed me the most. We’ve started settling into a routine of school of studying and socializing, but that’s dangerous. There’s still so much stuff left to see. Last weekend I went to Alexandria, Egypt, for the first time on a field trip, but I already want to go back. I want to go down to the Sudanese border to see the great temples at Abu Simbel. I want to go to Sharm el-Sheik and scale Mount Sinai. For Eid, a Muslim holiday, we have a week break, and I’m going to Athens, Greece. There, I am going to attempt to find the village where my family is originally from. That’s an adventure in and of itself. And there are still things to see in Cairo. I want to see the citadel and Ibn Tulun mosque. I want to go to City of the Dead, a massive cemetery now inhabited by entire families hired to watch the grave sites. I still have to ride a camel. I’ve seen the pyramids. I went to Memphis, Egypt, and saw the massive statue of Ramses II. I’ve gone to classes and taken midterms. I’ve smoked shisha out of a coconut with a group of Egyptian friends in an all-male bar. I’ve drunk enough mango juice to fill the Red Sea, which I have now swum in. I have toured mosques and churches. I got lost in the maze that is Khan al-Khalily, an old, Aladdin-style market in Islamic Cairo. I’ve eaten koshari, tamaiyya — the Egyptian version of falafel — and fuul nearly every day. I’ve gotten caught in the Free Syria protests in Tahrir Square, and I’ve found out I’m worth approximately 10,000 camels to the average Egyptian street vendor. So far, I think I’ve spent my time here very well, but I know I’m not going to be ready to leave in December. Don’t get me wrong — I am so excited to see my family and friends again, to be able to drink the tap water, to be able to travel alone as a woman. But I also know I could live here for years and never be done with Egypt. — hannsmit@indiana.edu
The Great Pyramids at Giza on the outskirts of Cairo. Near Giza, horses and donkeys pull carts of produce and textiles.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>In case you haven’t heard, Cairo is a pretty big city. “Pretty big” means that the city itself houses nine million people, and the metropolitan area is the 16th largest in the world, home to 30 million people, Africa’s largest. Basically, it’s massive. Massive amounts of people come with massive problems, environmentally speaking. The other day I was really excited because the sky was overcast. I thought to myself, “Is it seriously going to rain today?” The rainy season in Egypt is in the spring, so this made no sense to me. Then, I realized those weren’t clouds. It was smog.There’s a time of year in Cairo called “black cloud season,” and it begins in late September or early October. It’s a several month period in which a literal black cloud descends over the city, and the smog becomes so thick all of the buildings seem hidden behind a layer of what looks like fog, even when you’re walking. Black cloud season is caused by farmers burning crops at the end of harvest, creating huge excesses of smoke. This, combined with the fact that most people burn their trash here and cars idle in traffic for hours at a time, makes for some mean pollution. Also, factor in the time of year. As the seasons change from summer to fall and winter, strong winds blow across the Nile River valley, where Cairo is located. Those winds are so strong that the smog becomes trapped in the canyon, unable to rise. Of course, it’s not just air pollution that’s bad in Cairo. Trash is everywhere, and I’m not talking just litter. I’m talking mountains of trash in the middle of the sidewalk, up to my waist, mixed with animal and human feces and sand. President Mohammed Morsi has declared an initiative, the “100 day plan” of 64 goals to clean up Cairo he hopes to accomplish in his first 100 days in office.We’ve yet to see anything in our neighborhood, and ours is one of the nicest in Cairo. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to smell clean, fresh air. I’ve forgotten how blue the sky can be. I always see it through smog here.It’s become normal to me for the water to literally change color when I wash my hands. Everything I touch is so filthy — the money, especially. Every time we go out to eat here, I think of my mother. I know she’d be appalled by what she’d see. Slabs of meat hang outside shops marked for sale, covered in flies and bees. Bread stands are set up right next to the highway, so the exhaust rolls over them. Most of the time, when eating, you can feel the grit of sand or dirt when you chew. My mother, who wouldn’t even let me eat raw cookie dough as a child, would have a heart attack. I never realized before exactly how sterile America is when it comes to these things. We are paranoid about food sanitation to the point of near insanity, and we have a totally different definition of dirty.It’s hard to get used to, the smog especially. A permanent sore throat and clogged sinuses have become part of the deal with studying here. Don’t get me wrong. The food is delicious, even though I’ve been sick more times than I can count. The city and culture are beautiful.But the smog? There’s really nothing I can say to defend that.
A view of Cairo in the Nile River Valley from the Muqattam Cliffs.
Smog settles in a view from the Cairo Tower in Cairo.
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>It’s a very odd feeling to be married at 20. It’s even weirder when your husband doesn’t actually exist. For the last five weeks, I’ve been living a lie. In Egypt, I’m married.One of the first things us women were taught upon arriving is to always say you are married when asked. Some girls here have even taken to wearing wedding rings when they leave the dorm. Being “married” gives us freedom. Marriage is one of the Middle Eastern issues that Westerners misconstrue.When people think of marriage in Egypt, they think of harems and abuse. It’s thought of as something young girls are forced into, usually with much older men. Those are all by far exceptions to the norm, and I’m pretty sure that last one occurs as often in America as here. I won’t deny that marriage here is viewed much differently than in America. It’s interesting because in the States, marriage is often seen as a trap. It’s something to put off for as long as possible in order to maintain freedom.In Egypt, people marry to gain freedom. If you’re a married woman in Egypt, you can travel alone. The harassment drops off drastically if men see you wearing a ring.Marriage is also a means of freedom from family. Even in college, the vast majority of students live with their families. Upon getting married, you can finally leave the nest. Plus, premarital sexual relations of any kind are illegal in Egypt. They still occur, but at drastically lower rates.By the time you reach your early twenties, who wouldn’t be willing to marry if it meant finally having freedom? Of course, there is one distinct difference in marriage between the States and here. In Egypt, polygamy is legal. The Quran, or the Muslim holy book, allows polygamy. Each man is allowed to have up to four wives, and this remains true in Egypt today.Wives are not allowed to marry more than once due to the issue of knowing who the father of her children would be.DNA testing wasn’t really a thing in Quranic times. Legally, the first wife must be notified and approve before this occurs. They are allowed to divorce if they find the situation intolerable.In fact, Islam was the first religion to allow divorce. The regulations for divorce are outlined in the Quran, along with basically what constitutes alimony laws for the divorcees. It’s one of the first documents that clearly outlines a woman’s rights in the case of divorce, which many find hard to believe, but it’s true. Woman’s rights were not nearly as advocated for in the Bible. Today, polygamy is rare, but it happens, even in Cairo. At first, this really appalled the feminist in me. But, given the social status of women here, it makes sense to consider this option. I don’t think I could ever do it, and the vast majority of Egyptian women agree, but it makes a little more sense if you try and see it that way.I’m not going to say I understand completely. I can’t imagine having to think about a husband or family on top of taking care of myself.Fortunately, mine are imaginary. — hannsmit@indiana.edu
____simple_html_dom__voku__html_wrapper____>You’d think not having school would be awesome. I’ve never been a huge fan of school. I’ve always seen it as means to an end, both in high school and college. But now, in Cairo, a student strike preventing classes is stretching into its second week.Not having school is awful.It wouldn’t be so bad if we had known in advance what days we’d have off, or for how long, because then we could have traveled.As it is now, we’re kind of on call. We have to stay in Cairo on the off chance that campus suddenly opens. We’ve been told the earliest campus will open again is Sunday. Many teachers suspect it will stretch on longer. Some teachers are going to extra lengths to have classes, asking us to congregate in the dorms or in coffee shops. Some professors will even drive to the dorms to personally pick up their students and take them to class.However, the real concern, at least for us international students, is whether our credits here will now transfer.American University in Cairo President Lisa Anderson said in an email that every semester must consist of 15 weeks of classes in order to be complete.As it stands, we’ve already lost two of those weeks and probably will lose more. When are those classes going to be made up?Anderson acknowledged the fact that they can’t make the semester longer at the end because the international students already have flights home. We have Tuesdays off normally, so classes can meet then, but many of us have weekends booked with travel from now until finals. Will we have to choose between academics or travel? The administration has been in meetings with the students for several weeks now. The only remaining points of contention are the tuition raise of 7 percent for this school year and the disciplinary action that will be taken against students in the protests. Protesters demand that the tuition increase be taken away for the current year, which the school cannot do because it’s already part of the budget. Protesters don’t want disciplinary action to be taken against the students at all, but those students directly violated the school’s policies.Violence has erupted in the protests at AUC. Students have attacked staff and vice versa. Students protesting even attacked students who attempted to hop the locked gates to get to class. The school cannot stand back and just let that happen without consequence. But if they don’t appease the protesters, classes might never resume.There’s no way to win, and I have no idea what the school should even do in this situation. My fellow international students and I are staying out of it, but it’s fascinating to see. Things like this just don’t happen in the United States. I simply cannot imagine IU shutting down because of a student demonstration. Here, the students managed to get enough power to make negotiations possible.It was interesting for a while, but international students, myself included, came here to go to school. It would be nice if we could actually do that. But this is all part of the study abroad process. Coming in, we knew things were going to be different. Maybe we’re learning as much by not having class as we would from classes themselves.