Let Me Be!

Four days to go

2009-08-18T14:59:00.000-07:00

- It's been three days now since my brother has has started saying 'I'll miss you.' He doesn't say it in a tear provoking way, but rather smilingly with a push, a hit, a pinch, a spank, or even a kick. He would keep asking why on earth I was chosen for a grant worth a fortune and what good the committee saw in me although I'm a good-for-nothing-else nerd. I had to disagree with him and tried to convince him with my other perosnal merits, saying that at least he should be grateful I exist because I was the reason why he was exempted from the army service (which he didn't want to do). He responded to this by carrying me in a way I couldn't move at all.

- I've been trying to focus on things I need to keep in mind. A bit overwhelming, but I believe things will be OK and I won't forget too many crucial things, such as taking my ticket.

- I went through my CD's. Wow.. years fly by. I found photos of my cousins and I two years ago. All feels like yesterday.

- I received an e-mail from an ex-student/friend who offered to meet me at the airport. She's saving my life but she doesn't know it, I guess.

- I took a nap this afternoon. When I woke up, boys from my street had hung Ramadan decorations: shiny strips of paper tied to long strong thread and hanging like zigzags between balconies. Only an hour ago, they turned on the 23 lamps (my mom's count) hanging in the middle of the street. It took my breath away. I have many special memories in Ramadan, whether good or bad, they're all special to me and have meanings.

- I'm starting to have butterflies in my stomach, but still know things are going to be alright.

- Reading Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love. Interesting book and easy read. I could relate to her in many things but hope I won't have to spend a year travelling to four different countries in order to find my soul and get in touch with God. I hope I could do that traveling inside my room in New York City or in the eyes and faces of people I'll meet.

Six days to go

2009-08-17T07:32:00.000-07:00

- Yesterday? Hmm , what about yesterday.. oh, yeah. I was planning to meet a friend of mine (meeting her today). My mom wanted to see her niece, who is actually only a few years younger than her (rather long to explain) and who lives in another city.
I wanted to actually just be a chauffeur to my parents but you know how difficult it is to say 'No, I don't want to come along' to your mother, especially if you're leaving in less than a week.

I parked the car and went in for around forty-five minutes. There was my cousin and her cousin, my uncle, my parents and myself. My cousin has a daughter my age which makes it obligatory not to use her first name without 'auntie'. Anyways, that's not the issue actually. She is 'pious' and defines herself as someone 'who knows God very well'! That means she's someone who prays on time, goes to small pilgrimage often, wakes up before dawn to catch the morning prayer, and read Quran often. I have to admit I've developed that habit of waiting to see if those who claim to be 'pious' will practice what they preach.

Thirty-five out of the forty-five-minute visit rotated around the husband of my deceased cousin, this cousin's sister. Without going into too much details, it was all backbiting this guy who was not there to defend himself.
In the car..
'Listen, mom. Are you happy about backbiting this guy? So she'd wake up by dawn and pray because 'she knows God well.' This is hypocrisy. It says in Quran we have to pray and I think in the same book it says backbiting is like eating the flesh of your brother and sister. If she's going to do this, there's no need bragging about how well she keeps her prayers.'
'Well, I think you're right. I ask God for forgiveness.'
'Well, I think you actually should. And please tell 'Auntie S to do the same.'

I went home and felt angry with myself for not stepping in to defend the guy and tell them all to shut up.

- Today I spent the morning running errands with my brother. It was a fun morning with him feeling 'high' without taking any drugs. I changed money into dollars and issued traveller's checks. It was amazing to see and hear the employees at American Express talk, joke and call each other names as if I was not a customer standing there. Well, professionalism is nothing but ironed shirts and matching ties.

- In the afternoon, I went to see my friend Yasmine. We've got closer lately although we don't meet up often. She's always been dear to my heart, though. I felt she sincerely cared for me and was excited for my coming up journey.
'I never thought about the veil issue since last time we talked about it,' she said. 'But you crossed my mind the other day when I say my veiled cousin wearing a veil that showed her hair and a pair of trousers that showed most of her calf. To me, at least you're someone who's true to herself rather than putting a piece of cloth on your head when you don't want to.'

- I arrived home and thought about passing by my neighbour to tell her I was travelling soon. I knew she'd be sad to see me leave. I've spent most of my childhood with her two daughter. She didn't look happy so I decided to tell her later. She was cleaning her apartment and looked really tired. There was no one there to help her.
'You know, girl, when I was young, no one gave me good advice. I'm telling you now. Don't have too many kids. One is like two like three like a hundred. You keep carrying their burden till the day you die and no one will actually come and help. Now I thought I'll be happy once the three of them get married. Now they come to visit with their spouses and kids and it's like started all over again. When would I ever get to rest?'
'Auntie, you don't have to. Tell them you're tired. They love you and will understand even if they can't help.'
'I know they would but I'm just tired.'

- I went upstairs. Happy to see my family smile at me.

Eight days to go

2009-08-15T12:02:00.001-07:00

- Nothing much today. I had a dentist appointment. I wanted to make sure no major issues will come up as soon as I land. It always happens to me, especially when I don't have dental insurance. I've always gone to this dentist. Let's say he's one of the people I completely trust with my health. He was working and I, as usual, manage to get my message across. I gestured 'book' with my hands and he understood I was asking about the book he once told me he was planning to get published.
'Oh, the book? A couple of friends in the national security police took a look and told me it won't get published and would definitely get me into trouble.'
A year ago, he told me that his book was titled 'Egypt: where and where to' and I remember giving him that look to which he replied, 'I know'.

- I went to a shopping street in Heliopolis. I need a purse. I know, I have what you might think is too many, but I really use one or two of them. I'm giving the rest away. Hopefully it will make that girl happy and ease the peer pressure at university. I've been there.

- One thing I'll never cease to enjoy is taking rides with my brother. He's such a cool company and a great driver. Plus, he always treats me to something for the ride; cappuccino and cookies, ice-cream, a slice of cake, a 7-up can, chewing gum, juice, .. anything ,.. just anything he'd bring will make me smile or even laugh the moment he leaves the shop till her reaches the car. I'll miss that for two years. Maybe more??!

- I haven't bought the gifts for my cousin and his wife, an ex-student, and three friends. I haven't gone through the books I need to take with me. I haven't given time for the things I'll remember last minute. I haven't given time to the family good-bye tour I'll have to make! I haven't bought the medicine I might need there. In Egypt, You can walk into a pharmacy and say 'I need vitamin tablets, a 500 mg anti-biotic, a flu medicine, a bottle of cough syrup, and a deodorant' and you'll get all of them easier than you'd get a loaf of bread at the supermarket. I know it's not the case in the US!

Oh, when am I going to start doing all this? Probably while the airplane is being checked for take-off. Don't worry, I'm good at deadlines. That's how I got the scholarship.

Nine days to go

2009-08-14T13:05:00.000-07:00

- Went out for a lunch invitation at an Egyptian colleague's house. By house I mean a duplex. She's got a beautiful place in a quiet neighbourhood.
It was all females except her husband. He's a ... a ... hmmm.. nice? no .. quiet? .. not sure .. old? not too old, he's only 52. After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, a conversation somehow started by him asking each one of us what her sign was. Well, excuse me, but this is really one of my least favorite subjects. So, let's say I switched off, although tried to show some interest out of politeness. I just don't see the point of analyzing people based on their signs to know how to deal with them or to decide not to deal with them.

Anyways! So he's 52 and she's 35. Seventeen years of difference? They both said they don't feel it and I do believe them because she's happy. The interesting part was that they met, got engaged and got married in 21 days. Yes, three weeks to make that decision when she was 31 years old. She admits it was crazy, but good crazy. 'It was meant to be,' she said.

So, after lunch, we sat in the living room as the husband went into the TV room to watch football. That makes it:
me and the hostess, (you already know about us),
an engaged 27-year-old girl who was on the phone for most of the gathering (fighting with her fiance or with the tailor),
a 35-year-old girl who thinks men are all "b&^%$#@*" (I insisted she had an issue with Egyptian men and told her she should come to the US where I'll try get her an American, she agreed),
a divorced woman who thinks her marriage failure is her responsibility as well (wrong choice and rushed marriage), and
a 31-year-old British girl who was trying hard to catch up with the loud laughter and gossip of Egyptian women.
In the background there was the maid in the kitchen, enjoying our conversation.

We talked about, well, men, of course, marriage, relationships, and people at work. There wasn't a lot of dirty talk in there, since we were not best friends. Just slight allusions with everyone laughing out loud every now and then.

- I keep thinking about the trillion things I'd like to do in NYC. I just don't know where to start. I also hope that the Egyptian educational system hasn't left too terrible of an effect on me that I end up spending more than 85% of my stay there working or studying. I honestly think I've spent enough time of my life looking at coursebooks and it's about time I started doing more of the things I've never done. I know, I know ... I'm on a scholarship, but that's how I feel now. What's wrong with a B?! Does it always have to be an A??!! I think a B plus more personal experience is worth the A. Don't you think so too?

Ten days to go

2009-08-13T14:58:00.000-07:00

Went to the pool in the swimming morning. What? I mean I went to the swimming pool in the morning. Apart from the LOUD music in the background, it is a cool place to spend the weekend at. I got up at 9.30 a.m., started thinking about you. I picked my friend up at 10.30, grabbed coffee and sandwiches from a regular place, and drove off to a Cairo suburb. I had to go to university to collect some money and then to the bank inside to close my bank account.

I got changed and plunged into the water. Wish you were there to take pictures of me, although it sometimes irritated me, but not a lot, I've come to realise. My friend had magazines with her, Cosmo and More. I read about men's fertility, food cravings, women's sexuality, and saw a photo of Julia Roberts, 41, in her bikinis showing her after pregnancy and delivery abs. It's interesting to see her self-confidence. I sincerely hope she's as happy as she said she was in this article. Why did she tell me about the colleague who had a 'little' crush on me. That wasn't wise.

Is it the right thing to do to move on? I think it is. Why is it so difficult to let go? Is it the past we had or the hope for some future? Well, I think it's expected I feel depleted now. I also think it's only fair to let your partner know how you feel and what you want to do. But honestly, I do not know what I want to do now. I have no idea what the new me would be like. I have no clue what to expect in New York. Why is so hard to believe me, to believe that I'm under a lot of pressure, leaving in ten days to a whole new world. I'm not overreacting. I'm trying hard to leave home with the smallest weight on my shoulders. I know I might be wasting a chance, but that's life I guess, things don't always happen the way we want them to. He had all the time he needed to get 'ready', now doesn't see the point of me saying I'm not 'ready', and actually thinks I'm being 'stupid', one of the many things people never said about me.

I wish we could start all over again.

I'm thirty now. Too old to stay with your family any longer, and yet too late for them to hear me say 'Sorry, guys, I can't live with you any more because I need to find myself, that person that you and society have been trying to shape .' Your parents are old enough to need you and now you decide to go. Well, it's one life after all, isn't it? You need to make a choice sometimes. It's a shame when you're not so young any more to allow yourself to make as many mistakes as you want. A friend of mine once told me he wanted his sister to start dating early so that she makes mistakes while she was still young. I never got his point as much as I do now.

I changed my e-mail password to something suitable for the mood of moving to NYC.

My friends are already making fun of the accent I haven't even started recognising. One of them said 'I'll come meet you and we'll have kwofee in Noo Yoik.'

On the drive back to Cairo, traffic was a bit heavy. My friend and I talked about how hard it is to be in a relationship and try to accept to live with someone after you've experienced being on your own for so long. The sound of my brother's fingers frantically playing a computer games irritates me. How would you put up with many things like that in a partner? How is he going to put up with mine?
'Don't they get bored?' I asked.
'I guess they do,' she said. 'But I guess it starts to get really boring the moment they think everything is OK and nothing needs working on. That's when the relationship dies. And still they can live together and give it a try before getting married.'
'See, that's not always an option for every couple.'
We went on talking about why people get married, why others never do, and whether it's a person's right to say, after years of marriage, 'I'm sorry honey, I just met this person and have found true love. I have to go.' She said she was cheated on by a boyfriend and I said I was scared it'd happen to me one day. We talked about having children. My friend would adopt if she doesn't have kids by the age of 35.

I haven't told my grandma I'm leaving. I think she'll pray for me and not cry. I think I would.

It's 1.08 a.m. Still thinking ... about you and the whole thing. You see what I mean?

Fe-mail

2009-08-11T13:33:00.000-07:00

Receiving a phone call from a number you don't know at 10.45 pm on your mobile phone as an Egyptian female is something that a family like mine is not used to. However, they stopped expecting me to say who was phoning 'late' after a small to-do that once took place.

- Hello?
- Hi. Did you post an e-mail selling some books?
- Yes.
- I wanted to ask about 'Fe-mail'. Is it good?
Voice not clear.
- It's in a great condition. Like new.
- I mean is it good as a book?
- I did enjoy it. It's written by an Egyptian called Amy telling her experience as an Egyptian female. I found it interesting.
- How much are you selling it for?
- I think LE 15, bought for LE 50.
- Do you speak Arabic?
- I do.
- Ana Amy.
Laughter.
- What do you mean? You're Amy Mowafi?
- Yes, my friends forwarded me your number from the e-mail you sent out. They're teasing me because you're selling my book.
Laughter.
- Well, it's good to receive your call. Tell your friends I've read the book and enjoyed it but I can't take all my books while travelling.
- I will. It's just funny .... (voice not clear. I could only recognize her laughter)
- Well, Amy. I'm so happy you phoned. I could relate to many things in your book. You've got style as well. Keep up the good work.

In the book, she talks about her life. She was once married when very young and she got divorced. The book ends as she meets a nice guy. I remembered all this when she hung up. I wanted to know how it went with Mr Romantic who took her on a trip to Morocco.

Stop it!

2009-08-10T12:33:00.000-07:00

Hmmm.. it's hot in here. Turn a/c on. No, my brother has a cold. Pfff.. OK. Sleep a bit more then. No, no, you're not thinking that now. Sleeeep!

Oh, good morning. It's still hot. Alright. Off bed. Let's have a good day. What shall I wear today? No, you're not thinking about it any more. Stop it! It's either you say what you want on the spot or you shut the hell up later..., forever! If you're too nice, fine, stay the same till one day you become 'nice' only without 'too'.

A week ago, I spent two days eating things that are not the least related to each other. My stomach decided to punish me and gave me a sore spot on my lip. To get rid of it, a friend of mine suggested a home remedy recipe.
"Warm half a cup milk and add half a spoon of yeast to it, stir," she said. "Drink it on empty stomach. It should wash your it. I always drink this every morning. It's great for your skin, specially your face." Because I've heard the same advice from two different sources, my mom and my future sister-in-law, I decided to follow it. It's been three days now since I started this habit. The only good change I've noticed is that this half a cup fills me up in the morning. My mom says yeast is full of vitamin B. Let's hope it is... What's all this blabbering about? Why is that important anyway? Stop it!

I received a message from a colleague/friend. We're going to go for lunch or coffee after work. I texted to say I was on my way to work.

The office was busy. It's a non-teaching day, i.e. people are less busy and have more time to chat.

Back to my computer. Still in a bad mood. Can't get what you said off my head. Enter the grades into the system. It's funny how you see students' faces when you see their names. Thirsty. I went on the balcony to get some water.
'Hey, Dan.'
'Hey, how's everything? Have you sorted everything out for New York?' he said in his Yorkshire accent.
'Yes, all set.'
'You'll have a blast. I went their on holiday and I had a great time.'
'I just wish my stipend would allow me have some fun.'
'You can do it. Go with the locals. You know there are cheap stuff there as well. You can even get a message on the street. There is this authentic Chinese tents where you walk in and get a message just like you do in China.'
'Interesting.' I wondered how he manages to get China in every single conversation. He worked there for a while.

Back to work. Starting to feel nervous about the goodbyes. I have to go tomorrow to the traffic department, and get an international license application. Not that I plan to drive there, but just in case.

'Will you be around for a while?'
'No, Caroline. I'm off in half an hour or so. Do you need anything?'
'No, I just thought I should give you this in case I come back from lunch and don't see you. I'm terrible at goodbyes, so I'll see you later, maybe?'
'Me, too.' We kissed and she handed me a card.

Dear N., my neighbour and friend for many years. (the card had a picture of two camel riders in the desert and had a note that this is how Scotland may have looked liked 250 million years ago)
Hope you have a wonderful time in NYC - I know you're going to love it. Do pass on my best wishes to Brad should your paths cross_tell him there's a spare room awaiting him in Cairo if he ever gets fed up with that witch Angelina. I'll be keeping my eyes peeled for you on CSI NooYoik - I insist you try to get some exstras' work while you're there (pass on my best to Gary Sinise too: Mac Taylor - wot a hunk!)
Lots of love, x
Keep in touch. Caroline.
The same card has Carline's boyfriend words as well. He's, .. was, my line manager.
Have a whale of a time in the Big Apple. Sad to see you go but reckon you'll love it and end up staying there for years 'n years. Ant x.

See, this is what I'm talking about. I hate goodbyes. I went with my friend to the shopping mall. I needed .. nothing much really. I just needed to be out. I left work without saying any more goodbyes. I sent a thank you e-mail to all staff. A colleague is arranging a farewell party at her place on Friday. So that should be enough of getting emotional.

Stop it. We've discussed it enough.

I need to send my photo to school to get me ID issued by the time I arrive. I also need to buy a cardigan for the new dress.

At Beano's Cafe. My friend was feeling a bit down as well. I asked her what was wrong and she said 'Nothing, today at work Iman and Rob were back from holidays. They look so fresh. I'm really knackered.'
'You're off soon, starting your new career as a nurse. Only three more weeks of being a teacher and that's it.'
'I know. I just feel lonely when I see couples. Plus, Iman always looks glamorous and I'm actually feeling ugly these days.'
'Will you stop it? Why would you say that? You are NOT ugly. Choose a handsome guy and I'll go ask him if he'd like to have coffee with you.' She laughed out loud. 'You see, you can laugh. That's not ugly. Plus, if Iman is glamorous, that's good for her. It should not affect you.'
'I know,' she sighed. If only she knew why I've ordered a three-layer pancake at 3 p.m.. If only she knew that the stupid $%^^U*% who made her feel ugly and killed her self-esteem was not worth it. If only I could say all what I wanted yesterday! Stop it!

Hang on. I'm starting to feel that hanging out with her so often is making me blue. There's something about her voice, her loneliness, and her facial expressions that's really sad and it's starting to get to me. I'm not going to go on comforting and reassuring her about herself. Plus, she apologizes too many times for things she didn't even do. She kept saying sorry the other day once we were out of the movies. We'd watched 'the hangover' and she took responsibility for the bad choice although it was both of us choosing. She was guilty she suggested it and it was full of 'bad language' I might not like!!
'I'm an adult, you know?' I said. 'And please stop saying sorry for things you didn't do because I really don't know how to reply to that.' I too should stop saying sorry often. I've seen people who say it less to be happier than those who say it more often. So, stop it!

My Presentation

2009-08-08T12:48:00.000-07:00

My students thought, that me, as a teacher, should be giving a presentation at the end of the course just as they were going to. Being a democratic teacher, I agreed.

'OK, then. My presentation is after the break so don't be late,' I said.

During the break I prepared the presentation.

'OK, everyone. Before I start my presentation, I want you to promise do what I'll ask you to do.' I said.
'We need to know first,' one student said.
'No, you don't. You simply need to trust me,' I replied. 'I promise I won't ask you to sing or dance. Is that OK?'
They looked at each other waiting for someone to say OK. No one did.
'OK, unanimous agreement,' I said.
They all laughed and started to get exited.

'I'm going to hand you a piece of paper. You need to work with your partner to complete it. You have seven adjectives and you need to mark your choice on a scale from 1 to 10, like we did with that activity yesterday. You have to talk t your friend until you agree on the exact point on the scale. I'm not going to take those sheets or ask you what your ratings were. Ready?'

Worksheet:
I think my teacher is:

1) smart
0 _____________________________ 10

2) fashionable
0 _____________________________ 10

3) arrogant
0 _____________________________ 10

4) funny
0 _____________________________ 10

5) ambitious
0 _____________________________ 10

6) irritable
0 _____________________________ 10

7) patient
0 _____________________________ 10

They started to work together and glance at me every now and then. I didn't hear what they were saying at all.

'Alright everyone. Are you done?' I asked.

Nods, smiles, and nervous yes's.

'How would you feel if you were in my place out here while 16 people are contemplating what they thought about you?'

Horrible, bad, awful, terrible, nervous, and uncomfortable were some of the adjectives they said.

'That's how people feel when they are being judged. PLZ, don't judge people. It's a waste of your time and theirs. It makes them feel bad for no reason.'

Silence.

'Do you think I care about what you thought of me? I do care, but not to the extent that would make me feel nervous while you're rating me. Don't EVER let what people think of you get to you. Appreciate other's advice and only take that coming from people you know for sure care for you. Now we're going to watch a short video and I'd like you take notes as usual.'

Some eyes smiled and some eyes looked confused. That's when I realized it must have been a strong dose. I didn't mean it to be like that. I always saw in them a lot of potential, hopes and dreams most of which will be killed by society's attempts to make all 16 students act and behave in the same way, 'the' only way accepted here.

How to hit a donkey

2009-08-07T08:50:00.000-07:00

I had one of my best 'conversation courses' ever. Oh, I'm an English teacher, by the way.

It was a nice group of students, all under thirty, i.e. active and enthusiastic, rather than the mid-thirty ones who usually come to class dead tired after spending their day in a middle-management job day.

On the last day, students were all required to give a two-min presentation.

Ok, everyone. The topic for the presentation this term is 'How to...'. You can choose aaaanything you want: How to be come an astrologist, How to polish your shoes, How to spot a liar, How to make lasagna.. just anything. You'll be under the time limit of two minutes and you'll need to pay attention to what we've talked about before: accuracy, fluency, vocabulary, pronunciation, and presentation skills.

Next class: Presentations:

How to ..

- give a presentation

- be positive

- set goals

- recognize swine flu

- to be a good teacher

- keep your good friends

- spot a liar

- avoid hitting your kids

- hit a donkey

"Hi Everyone! The title of my presentation is "How to hit a donkey". Once upon a time, there was a farmer who had a donkey on his piece of land. One morning, the farmer woke up to find the donkey eating from his land.

'Donkey, why are you eating from my land? Don't do that again'

Next day, the donkey was doing the same thing.

'No, no, donkey. Listen. You take this area of the land and eat as much as you want from it, but don't come near my area.'

Same thing happens the next day.

'Oh, my God. Please people come and help me. This donkey has been eating from my land and I don't know what to do'

Everyone in the village came to see the donkey that wouldn't stop eating from the poor farmer's land.

'Listen, donkey, everyone is really upset with you now. I'll tell you what. You take the bigger piece of land and leave me the smaller one.'

But the donkey just didn't stop eating and the farmer and the villagers were all going crazy. Suddenly, a young boy came with a stick and shooed the donkey away and problem was solved. Everyone was surprised as well as ashamed.

'How could a little boy solve the problem that easily?' thought the villagers. 'And 'WE', big people, turned out to be stupid and ignorant!'

On that same day, the villagers killed both the farmer and the little boy, and let the donkey eat whatever it wanted, for there was no way they would be wrong!"

Silence for two seconds and everyone in class was laughing and clapping for Alaa, a young female fresh graduate. She was laughing contagiously all throughout the presentation.

It was interesting to hear the hysterical laughter drop silent for two seconds before everyone starting laughing again after realizing what she was talking about. I wish people who should reflect for two seconds would just do that.

Pizza or Potatoes?

2009-07-17T16:35:00.000-07:00

I had Thursday off, i.e. I had a three-day weekend. It was decided on Wednesday that my family and I would accept my cousin's invitation to spend a couple of days at her summer house, chalet as we call it, on the North Coast of Egypt.

We left Cairo at 1.00 a.m. and arrived 4.00 a.m. Everyone there was still awake. By 'everyone' I mean the following ten people:
my cousin (hostess) + son and daughter,
another cousin, hostess' sister (+ husband and daughter),
another cousin (+ daughter),
and my two uncles (one needy and one likes to joke 'roughly', i.e. using his hands).
Add me, my mom, dad and brother and you've got fourteen people in a three bedroom house.
The more, the merrier? Well, I have to slightly agree. It was a lot of fun. And slightly disagree for some reasons you must have already guessed.

Day one:

1.00 pm. Ten people at the table having breakfast. Yes, you heard it right. Breakfast.
'So, are we having pizza or potatoes for lunch?'
'Pizza'
'No, potatoes'
'No, pizza. You promised yesterday.'
My mom intervened now because she knew that her favorite brother wanted potatoes.
‘Ok, we'll have to design elections and take votes. A man’s vote is worth two of a woman’s or a girl’s.’
Yes, you’ve guessed right. Everyone laughed, including myself. And you’ve also guessed right, my feminist side was itching but I had to just join in the joke.
‘Listen, mama. Everyone will write what they feel like having for lunch and we draw and count. Khalas, it’s that simple.’

1.15 pm
Men are back to the front porch and women are either clearing the table, washing the dishes, or cleaning the kitchen. Me? I was doing the dishes.

1.20 pm
Tea, cake and dessert are served? = more cups and plates for me to wash. I don’t mind, though, as long as I’m doing them while my talkative cousin is eating my ear off with girly chat.

1.40 pm
Finally. I’m sitting down with everyone and having my tea.
‘I want some water to take my pills, baby.’
‘Ok, mom.’ Tea down. Go to the kitchen and bring water. Go back and sit down. Sip tea.

1.42 pm
‘Is there any more of this cake?’
‘Yes, uncle, just a minute. Don’t drink your tea yet.’ Tea down. Go to the kitchen and bring a slice of cake. Sip tea and try to sit down …

1.45 pm
‘Oh, gosh. I forgot to pray the noon prayer. How come no one reminded me? Could you bring me …’
‘… theeeee prayer mat. Sure, …’ Tea down. Go back in, look in every room for the mat.
‘Here, you go uncle.’

1.50 pm
‘Hey, girl, come and sit next to your uncle. I haven’t seen you for ages.’
‘No, no, leave her,’ my mom said. ‘Come and tell Aunt Noura what happened the other day in the kitchen.’
Tea down, sit with the women, tell them what my mom said and did the other day in the kitchen. Everyone cracks up.

1.55 pm
Tea is cold.

2.30 pm
Cleaning the chalet, i.e. women are cleaning the chalet for the afternoon. I won’t get into details but I have to tell you that there were six men around and three messy women.

3.00 pm
Two women are in the kitchen. Preparing lunch??? Whaaat?
‘Mom, I’m not even stepping into the kitchen, what are you doing here now?’ I told my mom under my breath.
‘I’m getting everything ready so that I enjoy the afternoon without worrying about it.’

I took two of the three young females in the house. One glance at them and they understood. We sneaked out with our books and i-Pods to the beach.

‘Do you think it’s OK if I lie down on my back?’ one of them asked me.
‘Of course you can, honey,’ I replied. ‘Go ahead girl, I’ll watch out for you in case a guy comes and checks your bum out.’
She laughs and rests her back on the sand. ‘Oh, that feels good.’

7.15 pm
‘Luuunch is reaaadddyyy eeevvveerrryyyyooooone,’ my cousin shouts around the house.
Where’s Ahmed? Where’s Dina? Where’s …. They keep where’s-ing until everyone was there.

8.00 pm
Men are back to the front porch and women are either clearing the table, washing the dishes, or cleaning the kitchen. Me? I was doing the dishes.

Yes, I did copy and paste from above.

‘I changed my mind, Sara, why don’t you do the dishes and I make tea and get them dessert?’
‘Cool, go ahead.’

8.20 pm
Earphones, running shoes on, back door opened, and I sneaked out. In a house full of fourteen people, you wouldn’t notice the absence of one for half and hour.

Walk, and walk and listen to music and sing. Jog for two songs, no, let them be one. Oh, gosh, first personal goal for September, exercise regularly. You’re thirty now for god’s sake. But you could still talk while jogging, it means you’re not out of breath, you see? Liar, you know you’re not as fit as you could be.

9.15 pm
Hair wet from the shower, towel on my back and tube of foot cream in hand.
‘You know, Oz Oz, I know a great hair cream that you can use to get your hair permed,’ my cousin, auntie Noura, said.
Yes, Oz Oz is the nickname this side of the family decided to give me twenty years ago. Mind you, my actual name has no “O” or “Z” but rather “N” and “R”.
‘Interesting. I’m not thinking about straightening my hair, though.’
‘It’s LE 1,500. Do you know Dalia, Shadia’s daughter, she’s got a much coarser, more difficult hair, and this cream worked well for her.’
‘Really, that’s great, but I don’t like to mess with my hair a lot.’
Ok, so now we’re over the oh-my-god-she’s-taken-the-veil-off phase into how-are-we-gonna-fix-her-curly-hair one. Take it easy! Just smile, they’ll be thinking about pizza and potatoes in a minute.
‘You know what you could also do?’ my other cousin says enthusiastically. ‘There are new creatine products. Have you heard of them?’
‘Yes, auntie, but I just think God chose for me the hair that goes well with my complextion and character,’ I replied.
‘Wise girl,’ she smiles. ‘So, what are we having tomorrow for lunch? Pizza or Potatoes?’

Canataloupe after midnight

2009-07-12T13:49:00.000-07:00

Took a shower, put oil replacement in hope that my hair would look the way I want it when dry. We'll see tomorrow.
Having some quiet after a long day. A/C on in my room. We have one in the house. My mom, asthmatic, didn't want one in her room because 'My chest is sensitive and I'll get sick if there's A/C in my room.' She just didn't want me to pay to get a second one installed. But where is she now?! She's sitting opposite me on my brother's bed escaping the heat and humidity in her bedroom.
She brought her pillows, water bottle, and medicine along. Translation: she's sleeping next to me tonight when my brother gets home and kicks her off his bed. My dad is lying on his back on the floor. Give him the most comfortable mattress in the world, this will always be his favorite way to rest.

Eating cantaloupe.
- 'Eh da? Where is the other slice?' mom is asking me. I know where this is going!!
+ 'No, mama. I found one slice in the fridge, and I can't have more,' I say.
- 'Have you eaten the other one?' mom asks dad.
* 'Yes, I did,' dad replies.
- 'Why did you eat it? I wanted your daughter to have it cold.'
* 'I didn't know it was for her'
+ 'Mom, please. It didn't have my name carved in it. Even if it did.. so what!'
- 'You always do this,' mom says giving dad her blaming look.
+ 'Mooom, it's nothing,' me giving her my blaming look.

This morning, I left for work around noon. It was boiling hot and humid. I went down stairs praying the car won't be boiling. Put my sunglasses on before leaving the building. Oh, my. Car shade is up behind the windshield and a small towel is covering the side window to further block the sun. I smile from ear to ear and look up to the balcony to see dad smiling back and waving goodbye. It was him as usual. He did all this in the morning.

It's been half an hour now and my dad has been telling me the same old stories over and over again. He's telling me how he and our neighbor fixed a water pipe this morning and how there was a valve missing and it turned out it had fallen in the other T-shaped pipe. What? No idea what he's talking about.
+ 'Really, dad? Interesting! How did you finally manage to get it out?'
* 'We ... bla bla bla. What are you listening to?'
+ 'Radio. Monte Carlo.'
* 'Wow, the world is a global village now. I remember when I was in the army during the 73 war, I used to spend hours trying to locate a radio wave in the desert and now you're cross-legged on your bed listening to radio online'
That's how my dad always finds a way to digress from talking about valves to war to globalization to carbohydrates to classical music in less than fifteen minutes.

Yes, mom cuts up fruit for me because she wants me to 'have it cold' and my dad shades my car for me and goes out on the balcony to see my reaction and smile in the morning.

They are both asleep now. They are both one reason I survived at some point in my life when everything felt meaningless. They never felt meaningless. Not for a second.

02.07=30 :)

2009-07-02T09:10:00.000-07:00

What a beautiful early hour.

02.07+156+157+158+2019+5x5 (still) = 30.

It's past midnight and it's my BIRTHDAY :D Yohoooooo. No, I'm not out celebrating, not making a cake, not treating myself to anything, yet. Instead, I'm completing Form 157 and Form 158 because I have a visa appointment at 1.00 pm in heat of 38 degrees ON my birthday and then I'm working till 9.45 pm. Life is unfair sometimes.

Photo requirements : 5x5, white background, face front, show ears, don't smile. No, they didn't say don't smile, but I decided not to just in case. Product is a 5x5 photo of me literally looking like a silent Bulldog, squint as someone once told me. I was going to be kind and say I looked like ancient Egyptian still statues, but I couldn't help picturing the squint bulldog thing.
I'm going to go out with my brother after work. I'll treat myself to a huuuge caramel cinnamon roll.

Form 156: Have you ever had any training on explosives? Check the box: [No]

On Friday, I'm going to a ladies only resort. Solaris. Sounds nice. I've never been there and have tried to contact them but no answer for some reason. But anyway, two friends and I are ging to turn up and sunbaaaathe and have lunch. I know they'll gosspic a lot, but let's ignore this part. If I decide to hang out with women who don't gossip I'll end up with male friends only.

Form 156: Are you planning to engage in any terrorist activities in the US? Check the box: [No]

Or shall I actually just go for lunch somewhere nice, go to the movies? No, Solaris would be better. Plus I smell a good blog entry coming up Friday night.

Form 2019: Two-Year-Home-Residency. Student exchange program stipulates that you spend two years of physical stay in your country upon completion of your study in the US. (NB: Getting married to an American or giving birth there does not cancel this term) Damn, that was exactly the plan. Pffff.

'I have read and understood bla bla bla.' Sign. But I can go on into a PhD program. Or rather, find a job somewhere else, save money to travel or open the bookstore I'd love to have.

I will not wait till 9.45 pm. I'll have the caramel cinnamon roll on the way to the interview after I have printed out the forms and stapled them top left, as required!!

Oh, I forgot to tell you. I just turned 30.

Outbox: June 29th

2009-06-29T03:56:00.001-07:00

I sense from your e-mail that you are 'worried' about me. I am not worried ... I'm freaking out. I am not saying I don't believe in Heaven and Hell. I have no doubt in God's ability to create them just as He created you and me. You're saying "Just remember the life of this world is a prison for the believer and a paradise for the disbeliever because WE Muslims seek a better life in the hereafter..." Fine.. so I, without choosing to, was brought here to stay in prison and seek an afterlife. So why not be sent to the afterlife straight away?

I am not a disbeliever. I want to believe using both my heart and mind. My heart tells me that religion is true and it's me who probably doesn't know how to approach it. I am also not one of the scientific minds who wants everything to be experimentally proven. I believe in God although I don't see Him, so I believe in all his powers. It's the questions about why we are here, the choice to be here, the idea of us being here to be tested, etc that tire me. And I can't go back to how I used to be, I'd be fooling myself and going back to taking religion for granted.

I wish I could take your advice and "Just leave it to Allah and practice my DEEN" You have no idea how much I'd love to be able to do that. you have no idea how envious I am of those who have comfort in religion. You have no idea how scared I am of dying before reconciling with myself and religion. Having said all that, again, I don't know where to start or what to do. And again it's not my fault that I started asking and haven't find answers. It's no one's fault actually.

I'd love to hear any advice other than "take it as it is" because I just can't. I also can't take the other advice of "forget about religions and be a good person" because I just can't.
It seems it's either one of these two ways.

Inbox: June 29th

2009-06-29T03:54:00.000-07:00

Well let me say this - You are kind of close to say that you do not believe in heaven or hell and I do not want you to do that!!! Please don't - ReallyIn the past I would argue with Atheist in America that did not believe in GOD - Heaven or Hell and they basically say that Satan is a good guy... They are members of the Church Of Satan....In Islam to deny Heaven or Hell is Kufer (disbelief)...The main reason why I became Muslim is that it confirmed things I believed before like heaven, hell, good VS evil etc. and it disagreed things like Shirk and creating things from your own mind etc.You can be happy here with believing in heaven and hell and stayings away from sins to the best of your ability....Just remember the life of this world is a prison for the believer and a paradise for the disbeliever because WE Muslims seek a better life in the hereafter...this is nothing that you have not heard before and of course we have freedom to choose which path to take in this life....you said "But I find the path painful. It's not easy or fun, it's worrying and draining."Just leave it to Allah and practice your DEEN....

Freedom

2009-06-28T13:07:00.000-07:00

A week ago, I met a new friend or rather ran into it. Yes, it's an 'it'.

I was browsing through Arabic radio stations online and found Monte Carlo Radio, which I had already been introduced to through my father. He used to play it in the kitchen and listen to the news while having breakfast. I was six or seven then. It has changed a lot, ... so have I. But it's kept its Shami/Lebanese accent which I love.

It makes a wonderful world come to me in a fraction of a second away. I loved listening to an interview with Buena Vista Social Club and hear some of their songs live for the first time, hearing my favorite MJ songs in a program about his recent death, getting introduced to Crystle Warren's voice, hearing controversial issues spoken about in Arabic for the first time, breaking the ice with French (for the millionth time) and learning 'quel ca appelle' for 'what's it called' but not knowing how to spell it ... yet.

Have you ever listened to a program and wished you were able to phone in and say something? That's how I felt the other day when listening to a program about a possible future French law banning Muslim women from wearing 'niqaab' or face cover. The radio hostess was so good and managed the conversation so well. The guest, who was a high official in the Paris, sounded like someone who has been trained to state out beliefs even if she was not really convinced by them.

She offered the same logic I've heard before: you have to abide by the law of the country you're traveling to because you choose to be there, which makes perfect sense to me. Those who are thinking about moving to France should understand that it's a secular country and they shouldn't complain once they get there, they can't ask for Islamic law or Christian law to be followed, etc. What doesn't really make sense is how this could be true for someone who was born and raised in France, loves the country, and now feels they have to choose between their religious beliefs and the country they love.

I don't understand how this new law waiting to be passed, is aimed at, as stated by the show guest, protecting those women's freedom and allowing them to have a normal social life. She wondered how they would eat or go out to restaurants with their face covered! And how does a thick-moustached man eat or drink? People manage as long as they are happy. I'd protect them by providing a hot-line which they can phone 24/7 and scream "Plz help, my father is forcing me to cover my face."

Who defines freedom? Is it the freedom of the country to make people do what it wants or the freedom of the people to do what they want?

Don't assume that those women need protection or liberation. They feel the most liberated behind their scarf. They feel liberated just as a woman sunbathing in bikinis does. Ask them!!

I've never been to France and would love to one day. But I know if you ask 'France', she would say that wants those women just to be happy. It's the people who are too scared.

Just let those women be!!

Outbox: June 28th

2009-06-28T02:33:00.000-07:00

12:30 pm

Thanks for your support and patience.

I understand what you're talking about. But I find the path painful. It's not easy or fun, it's worrying and draining.

I don't want to have to compare the religions to know that Islam makes more sense. But I also don't believe that the way to prove Islam is right should be by comparing it to beliefs one considers wrong. It should be right on its own and not because it makes the most sense.

I would go on and on this way. To keep it short: I find it hard to believe we're here to be tested and stay away from sins and then be rewarded in the afterlife.

I want to be happy here, I don't want heaven or hell.

Inbox: June 28th

2009-06-28T02:17:00.000-07:00

1) 7:36 am
ASA ,
I also pray to God to give me and you strength, guidance, and patience.
Life is not hard and I feel your pain.... But the modern day people are not like the early generations before.... Our tests are much much more harder --- Too much SIN and mis-information around us... My family are on the belief that they will died on the same faith as their parents etc... they never study religion like I do or did in the past... They are like many blind Muslims that do the same... Good people but no mind to even try to understand religions
Everyone is not blessed to be tested like you and everyone does not have a strong mind like yours as well... For me -as I was suggesting to you - whenever I feel pressure - or - doubt I compare beliefs and study the basics of Islam... I know that I will never be a scholar so I do not study the deep subjects or try to understand everything. I think this might be an issue for you?
For me- I try to focus on having a basic understanding of Aqeedah(belief) and Tawheed(monotheism) vs Shirkh (polytheism) ; and to never miss prayer etc...
We did not choose to be here on earth but we are here.... And we must do as much good as we can to get back to the place where our Father(Adam) and Mother (Hawa) were created.... Our enemy from that time only wants to keep us in doubt in his hope to make us to commit - Kufer or Shirkh and not to mention SINS.... This is a test that no one can avoid and I know that you will do good - Insha'Allah
Sorry for being confusing in my e-mails but that is me... :)
O yea, keep making dua'a and spreading that good
J

2) 11:44 am
Hey - we are not from earth - We are originally from Heaven!!! - kind of like aliens but humans... Here for a short period to try to adovid the evil in our souls and that which is suggested by Shytaan... We have our mind and soul and destiny that only Allah knows...
I ask him(allah) to guide us as stated in Al-Fatiha... And allways keep us on the straight path - Ameen
Yea we are not the same people in 2005 but Insha'Allah we will 1 day be better

Take care
J

Outbox: June 27th

2009-06-27T14:09:00.001-07:00

ASA Jay,

I've kept looking at your e-mail over the past three days but didn't know whether or what to reply.

I do understand everything in you wrote here but have to admit that I'd have felt it much more a year ago.

Things for me now have gone beyond right and wrong. I'm questioning why we are here in the first place. And if the purpose is to worship Allah, I would love to do that. But I do not think He would need to create people to worship Him.

On my human side, looking at sins, good deeds, human nature, desires, natural disasters, the countless blessings around us, heaven and hell and the afterlife .... etc.. I think to myself "I did not choose to be here in the first place, why was I given a mind to think with the way I am, why was I given desires and feelings, and why million other things?"

You are telling me to go study other religions and then decide. And I don't want to. I just wanted for one religion to be as clear as the sun and that's it. I don't want to spend the rest of my life studying religions and looking for the truth. I know for you it's crystal clear. And I'm sure the truth is clear to your Christian family as well and they might be feeling sorry for you.
Start looking for answers? Where? And in whose interpretation? Consensus? Of whom? Of scholars who wrote their volumes hundreds of years ago? Or of those in the modern world? And which one do you trust? Salafis or Librals? Sunnis or Shia? Sufis or non-Sufis? Which version of Islam? The one in Cairo, Jeddah, Ryadh, London, New York, Morocco, Turkey, Iran?
I truly do not know where to start.

Is this confusion a test from Allah? Well, I really can't take it any more and only He knows what's in my heart. And I didn't choose to take that test.

Is this confusion and sadness a punishment for mistakes I've made? I am weak, human, and not perfect. And that's how I was created. And don't tellme I have the choice. I know I do. But I didn't choose to be here and have the choice and never chose to be human and weak.

I meet people who feel happy for me that I'm questioning my religion. They have no idea how happy I was two years ago when I took it for granted. I was so at peace but don't know how to go back to that peace again. It's a search that has started and not been successful yet. I pray to God to give me strength, guidance, and patience.

I remember very well during group prayers at the mosque some sheikhs saying 'Oh, Allah, You who change hearts, make our heart alwyas set to Iman (faith)' and I always wondered why he would pray that Allah never changes his heart. Now I know. I'm not the same girl you met four years ago. You should be feeling lucky you still pray and feel it. You should always ask Allah to keep your faith in your heart and never test you on that.

Inbox: June 24th

2009-06-24T23:48:00.000-07:00

...
Yeah, sisters in general is a toss up-do not know who 2 trust and men are big kids for the most part....
As you know already - we were created to Worship Allah alone....Everything else will be up and down.... Our religion is perfect but humanity is screwed-up.....
Never try to change what has been given to us by Allah and his Profits.... If you feel that Islam is wrong then try to study other Beliefs and this should increase your Iman (faith) .... I come from a christian background and I am glad that this is out of my heart and mind... It only takes me a short visit to my family to see how blind they are from the truth....
After about 7 years of being Muslim my Faith has gotten weak and I started doing sins.... but I never stop believing and hoping that Allah would forgive me......
I am sure that you will have some good experiences in the States and also look at teaching Arabic as a part time job. Ladies there travel all around the world to study Arabic so I am sure you will have many tudents....
Take care and tell me what you think
J

Sunscreen

2009-06-06T13:00:00.000-07:00

Baz Luhrmann. Everybody's Free (to Wear Sunscreen)

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’99
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience…I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before
you and how fabulous you really looked…. You’re not as fat as you imagine.
Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing everyday that scares you. Sing.
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours. Floss.
Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.
Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how. Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements. Stretch.
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…what ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.
Enjoy your body, use it every way you can…don’t be afraid of it, or what other people
think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own. Dance…even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.
Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them. Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly. Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for
good. Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders. Respect your elders.
Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.
Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth. But trust me on the sunscreen…"

A biker-to-be

2009-06-02T12:14:00.000-07:00

For a change and for fun, I decided to go back to a place I once enjoyed working at. It seems June is not the month to do so, though. Out of eighteen students in two classes, only two smile. Huh? That was not the deal. To be stuck for five hours, four times a week, for four weeks? Well, at least two smile. It's better than over-relaxing at home with my mom receiving/making phone calls from/to my aunts and my brother either on his phone or wanting to talk to me.

I was in class today, the secretary came to hand me a piece of paper.
"Due to the presidential visit of President Obama to Cairo, classes have been canceled on Thursday June 4th. Make-up classes will take place on Sunday June 14th."
Is it a holiday for the whole 80 million population of Egypt?! Obama will be giving a speech to the Muslims of the world from Cairo University in Giza. Only God knows what other security measures, other than keeping people at home, the government is taking. Interesting!? Or Sad?

I went home after the regular hour drive in traffic. I watched the same half of movie I saw yesterday for the same reason. Can't sleep.

It's 10.20 pm and I'm sleepy with BBC Radio 1 buzzing in the background. Trying to do planning for tomorrow's class. So, I'll be teaching them positions.. Noooo, I mean PREpositions as in 'above', 'under', 'next to'. Still doesn't sound right? I mean the target sentences will be 'The chair is next to the sofa' etc...

Just sent an e-mail to a friend telling him about that possibility that I was misdiagnosed with depression for a year when it's "adjustment disorder", which sounds more serious but is less traumatic than depression. I discovered that possibility after a one-hour session with a psychiatrist who assured me that what I had was directly related to my religion questioning and I needed to make a decision and stick to it: choose guilt or reason, or neither. The latter will most probably take me to losing my mind, in the sense of becoming mentally-ill crazy. Hold on, hasn't my counsellor ever read about this whatever disorder?

I just know I'll be fine. Deep inside, I know it. Especially that a colleague at work, when I told him I'd love to have a bike in NY, mentioned that I can get one of those foldable bikes which I could even take on the subway, "although they look ugly, actually," he said. "But not to worry, you'll have a blast." Got excited and checked bikenewyork website.

I still know there's light at the end of the tunnel, unless it's a train coming my way, as one of my favourite professors once joked with me about an assignment.

A bike, yes, I'll get a bike. Not depression and not whatever freakin' disorder.

Pray for me

2009-06-01T07:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Ahmed,

I know it's been so long since I last got in touch with you. It's been pretty hectic, but still I should have phoned you when my heart told me to. I should have thanked you for smiling at me every morning at work, especially when almost everyone was avoiding me because they stupidly thought they were better Muslims keeping their veils on while I was not. To me, you are the true Muslim, never judging, always smiling, never backbiting. There were days when seeing your smiley face in the morning was the only good thing in that day.

Do you remember when I attended calligraphy classes with you? Again, too busy to keep enjoying this. But I have to say, I feel lucky to have attended a whole month with you teaching Arabic. I still use some of the material you gave me. I've never seen someone as patient as you were. Oh, and I still keep the calligraphy pen you sharpened and gave to me. I can't find the small piece of card board on which you beautifully wrote my name. It is green with my name centered in clear black. I didn't want to have a print out to be on my locker, but rather something as warm as your writing.

I do hope you are in a better world now. You've been far from the crazy one for three weeks now. I hope you are still as peaceful as you used to be, as kind and warm as you used to be. Did I tell you I was going to New York soon? I am. Wish me luck on that.

My mom says things happen only when they are meant to. So I assume I was not meant to hear your voice one last time. Yet, I do believe you can hear me now.

I wish you were there at work when I walked in today, just to tell you that it's not the same without you. I will miss you.

I also wanted to see you and ask you to pray for me. I know you can still do.

Love,

Your calligraphy student

One of those days ...

2009-04-30T11:52:00.001-07:00

It's one of those days when you walk aimlessly in the streets with your earphones plugged tightly inside your ears so that you hear no noise, not honking, no men hassling. A long daydream in which you walk into a shop, try something on, pay for it and leave. You go home and ask yourself why you bought it and feel grateful it was only a two-dollar item.
It's one of those days when flashes from the past and others from the future keep playing in front of your eyes. When you feel warm simply because your bag fell to the right and touched your leg. Yes, you need a touch that much.
It's one of those days when you get mad at the professor who tells you to re-do an assignment that was lost due to a technical problem and you feel she didn't talk to you nicely and take it all out on a colleague then apologize to him sending him an e-mail later to tell him that you are worried about your trip to New York and actually feel scared already, that you don't want to go because you have a feeling one of your parents might pass away while you are away from them, that you don't want to go because you don't want the new city to change you into a hard person, that you can't bear to stay another year where you are, though.
It's one of those days when you go to work at 9.00 pm and finish preparation in one hour rather than the usual three hours.
It's one of those days when only your father's warm hug might make you feel better.

Issue 18. October-November 2008.

2009-04-11T04:31:00.001-07:00

It is one of those days when you wake up feeling "something wrong is going to happen today". That was yesterday and it ended with a minor car accident resulting in no casualties other than my poor front bumper and right side mirror. I know what you're going to say, but I swear it was not my fault. It's the fault of the transparency Egyptians see in the white dotted lines on Cairo streets, which are supposed to mean 'stick to your £%^&$£ lane'. But anyway, let's not get into the top ten things I hate about this city. So that was it for yesterday.

Same thing happened this morning; I woke up feeling 'weird'. I drove my semi-busted car and I was surprised to have been able to not get into another accident although I had no right mirror, which explains why accidents are not as frequesnt as they should be on the streets of Cairo given the fact that more than half the population drive with their side mirrors closed.

It's my weekend but I'm tutoring a colleague. I came to work early to do some planning for my classes tomorrow. I chose a computer out of the fifteen and sat down sipping my coffee and munching my cinnamon roll.

Behind the monitor there was an internally published magazine/newsletter. On the front cover, I saw an A5 up close photo of the ex-girlfriend of my ex-boyfriend. Looking at the date of the issue, I realized that this magazine had been sitting there since November 2008 just waiting for me to decide on one April morning to go to work early and choose that computer and check what's behind the monitor while it started up.

It's amazing how things happen when you don't want them to. And more amazing is the sequence of events that lead to them. Reminds me of the long flashback scene in 'The Curious Case of Benjamin Button'. It actually feels the same.

Two months ago, I conducted a teacher training workshop to a group of volunteer English student-teachers. I had changed the day and time. On that day, my brother was going to pick me up. He got caught in traffic and, to avoid harassment, I decided to go up to a near-by bookstore. I walked in to see the face of a friend of my ex-fiance. And of course I realized that I'd see the ex-fiance there although I didn't want to see him again... ever. Although I wanted on that day to tell him how much I regretted meeting him ever, for many reasons, I didn't.

It's fate. And don't tell me you don't believe in it and that you can make your own. It's these little things that tell you that you're not in control. It's also these same incidents that make you think about why they happen and sometimes you realize they occur 'just because' and they happen to you in particular 'just because ... er...'. You realize that sometimes it's not worth analyzing everything. I can't find any explanation why I would see her photo although over two years I only saw her back and a 2" x 2" photo of her. I can't find any explanation I would run into someone I had prayed to God not to see again.

Some things happen when you don't want them to, or you don't care if they do.

For whatever reason, they just happen.

anniversary

2009-02-22T05:18:00.001-08:00

A couple of days ago I celebrated, or maybe I didn’t, the first anniversary for deciding to take off my headscarf. And I am telling you, something you most probably already know; time flies. Although this year confirmed my feeling that life is short, it also proved time to be able to take care of things by simply passing by.

A couple of days ago I decided to treat myself to a visit to the hairdresser’s, a new blouse, a ‘shia whip hazelnut scented Body Shop lotion’ (says the label), a new pair of sunglasses, and a breakfast of cappuccino and cinnamon roll. Pay check as you’ve guessed. Sounds nice? Yes, I agree. But nicer is the fact that I meant it and decided that this would be the norm. I don’t know how to describe it but it felt like taking someone you love for shopping just to make them happy.
A couple of days ago I decided to treat myself to … (see previous paragraph) in an attempt to make up for the many mistakes I did to myself.

A couple of days ago I wondered why I chose February 14th to take off my headscarf. I realized there was no reason whatsoever. It was simply the day I decided to leave home without it. I remember I felt cool wind in my hair, a shiver I can’t describe, and a sense of being naked and numb. Looking back I don’t remember the exact moment of decision and don’t know if what I keep telling myself is actually the real reason.

A couple of days ago I decided to treat myself to … (see paragraph 2) to congratulate myself on overcoming what my counselor described as ‘mild’ depression but felt like a constant nonsensical state of daydreaming or déjà vu. It was good to know that ‘mild’ was the clinical diagnosis and has nothing to do with the pain one has to go through because it was not mild. It was a nightmare that made me read about and/or experience things like anti-depressants, placebo, panic attacks, a John Breeding clip that helped me stop stupid, tasteless food, painful smiles, fatigue, loss of appetite, overeating, irritability, inability to concentrate, bad dreams, insomnia, true friends, terrible mood, distant hope, straight A’s, and a Fulbright grant.

I feel old and young, weak and strong, tired and relieved, happy and sad. All at once. All at moderation and none intense. A quiet not yet so peaceful aura has replaced turmoil. Maybe because I don’t imagine losing more than I did. Or maybe because life could be really unfair with or without a reason. Maybe because I’m confident the years to come will bring a new me that has already started to exist.

In my "Inbox"

2008-12-31T14:42:00.000-08:00

Hello dear,

I am so happy that you emailed me. I understand that it is not dry or formal, but sometime I myself organize myself better in the written word. Also when we talk face to face we may interrupt each other and lose our lines of thought. I totally agree with you.

Reading your message, I have some thoughts.
First, it came to my mind on the way to Alexandria that you never replied to my words (since i always speak like a machine-gun giving no one room to take the mic :) and only then it struck me that i may have upset you.

I read your email and realize things that I never knew. All I know about your experience about taking hijab off is that the people at the place you worked were really bitchy, you said something about looks from the neighbours and said that your parents and brother especially are OK and fine and understand where you are coming from. That's all I know. I didn't realize that your were preached by others.

I guess my ignorance about this comes from the fact that we have been barely keeping in touch in recent years, and naturally when you said those things to me in the car in Roxy the first time i saw you without it, you were just brief as the moment allowed. Believe me I am totally in the dark when it comes to these feelings and experiences u expressed below.

It is very important to me that you remember that from that day in Roxy till the day in front of berry Cafe, I never really gave you a speech about the matter. Yes, I admit you could sense that my eyebrows were up :), but I asked you out of curiosity "when did this happen?' and similar questions.

Ma3lesh one last thing, please forgive me for getting the feeling that you are confused about hejab. I based it on the conversations we had in the summer about neqab. I made an assumption and I was wrong... forgive me. You told me in the car in Roxy that you had a headache for the diversity of opinions and that's why I kept thinking about it. At times i think what if I had the same confusion, what would be the right conclusive argument.

Believe me I wasn't patronizing you, or painting a picture of the girl who went for haj and seen the light and back to guide the astray. and what i told you was my true thoughts that crossed my mind therein Saudi, not jumping at a chance to preach you dear, didn't realize that you were preached before, I just wanted to answer the question you asked me long time ago about how do we know that hejab is the right thing, that's all.

Discover Islam on your own dear, I am sure you get extra thawab for it. It is also true that nothing is wrong with young people who were bred from birth into Islam without the mental process of disbelief and questioning and then belief, example Osama iban Zaid, and abdulal Ibn Omar. The Arabic below:

ثبت في الصحيح عنه أنه قال: { سبعة يظلهم الله في ظله يوم لا ظل إلا ظله } ومن ضمن أولئك { شاب نشأ في طاعة الله

habibti, No one has the right to be part of this process you are undergoing, because it's between you and God. People should stay away because You NEITHER harm them with hejab or lack-of OR ask for their contribution, advice, or help.

It's unfair that you are prejudiced against because you once wore the veil. What if you were never veiled, no one would then have hovered and hovered, and hammered and hammered on the subject. It is unfair, because what is the difference.

Love for now dear,

Yasmine

One reason I wanna leave Egypt

2008-12-31T12:45:00.001-08:00

Today is one of the few days in the year when I go home, walk strait into my parents’ room, say a good evening and say “Do you know what the worst thing you both have done in your life is? It’s teaching us manners.” This is usually followed by a narrative of the incident that triggered my anger and frustration with the way my parents raised me. Today, it was a stupid man at the supermarket who tried to jump line and rudely forced me to raise my voice in a public place for the first time in my life.

Without getting into details of what happened, because it is not really the point here, I have to say that I could have avoided the scene had I asked the cashier to just say who of us came first and not talk to the guy at all. But I had to since he waived hands in my face, shushed me, etc.
It took the usual to calm down. Venting to mom and dad, a shower, dinner, and watching cartoon (Last time it was Ratatouille. This time it is WALL-E).

Two hours later, I'm left alone with my thoughts. Day after day, I'm actually more determined to leave Egypt. You might say "No one leaves their country because of a rude man at a stupid supermarket" and I couldn't agree more.

I want to leave because my brother feels safe walking on the streets any time of day. I don't. He doesn't check his shadow to see if someone is following him. I do. He does not press the central lock the moment he gets into the car. I do. He doesn't pray every day that no one grabs him on the street. I do. He hasn't started the habit of walking with his MP3 on because he doesn't want to hear the nasty things someone might harass him with. I do. He does not get people jump line in front of him because he's a man. I do because I'm a girl. He can answer his cell phone on a cab, the subway, or the street. I don't do that to avoid the double possibility of harassment.

To keep it short and simple, let’s say that one major reason I want to leave Egypt is being "a girl who doesn't feel safe any more." Other reasons are already here in previous pages. You’ll sure hear more soon.

Since I can’t leave today or tomorrow morning, I’ll stay forever grateful for Walt Disney.

Ladies Only Plz

2008-12-30T14:43:00.000-08:00

It seems guys that deadlines are my muse. I have a life changing exam in twenty-two days and as usual I’m not studying enough (at all?) Instead, I'm reading a new book, visiting the dentist, chatting with my mom, writing to you, AND started going to the gym! yay...

It is the same place where coach Nour works. The reason I chose this gym was not to check him out. I haven't run into him yet because he's a gym room trainer and I've subscribed for the aerobics only.

I had phoned them three days ago and an Omar said "Why don't you come attend a class for free and then decide?" I accepted the invitation.

I arrived just in time, got changed, and joined in. It was a very good class, I have to say. The coach knew what she was doing and I didn't get bored. It took me around ten minutes to realize that, although it was an "L.O." (ladies only) class, there was a young lady in her mid twenties wearing tight rather see-through white pair of pants, tight pink long-sleeve cotton blouse, and a headscarf. Yes, a headscarf. If you're Muslim you might know where she's coming from. Ready?

Ok, in Quraan there is a verse (24:31) that says women should not show their beauty except to a limited group of people among whom is 'their women'. There are two interpretations for this 'their women': either Muslim women only or women in general. So apparently she believed in the first interpretation of the verse. Which she is entitled to and I'm OK with. I myself used to go to the gym room and exercise with my veil on and it was perfectly fine. What I found interesting was the fact that throughout the whole class, especially during the cool down, she was actually showing more than her hair; her back, stomach, and %^&*$# !!

I finished class and went upstairs to get changed. I have to say that the ladies changing room is one of the least place I like anywhere. Although there was five vacant cabinets where they can get changed, they insist on just doing so in the middle of the room. Well, it's just not comfortable, man! Why do you impose your body on others!! Most of them don't have something to show off actually, which makes it EVEN more uncomfortable.

I then went to the reception check the class schedule and complete the registration.
- Evening, Omar.
+ Evening. How was the class?
- It was very good, thanks. So, I need your help with the schedule.
+ Sure.
- Since you know all classes.. errr.. I have no problem at all with mix-gender classes except with those where we have to use mats.

(Silence and puzzled eyes)

- I mean if it is hip hop, jump in the air kind of thing, cycling, etc .. cool. But lying on the floor with a gentleman next to me .. you know?
+ Oh, I see your point.

He grabbed a highlighter and started marking the L.O. classes and those that match my criterion.

+ We have great Salsa and Tango classes.
- Sounds interesting, but no thanks.

hmm, the guy does not seem to get the point. He gave me a look close to 'how non-progressive old-fashioned'

- You can sign me up for belly dancing, though.

He raised one eye brow without looking me in the eye. After all she's not that ...

In my "sent" mail

2008-12-30T04:15:00.000-08:00

Habibty Yasmina,

How's Alexandria? I hope you're enjoying your work and stay there :)

The one and only reason why I'm sending you this e-mail is that I love you, so please keep this in mind while reading.

Yesterday, when we were sitting in your car, I was really touched seeing tears in your eyes. I was touched even more by the sincerity of your words; I know you care for me a lot.

There is one thing that you probably don't realize. Like everyone else who has talked to me about that Hijab issue, your urge to advise me blinded you against whether I want to hear it or not. Actually I don't. And starting today, I won't. You realized the truth behind hijab. Why not let me realize it too for myself?

It's been ten months now since I took the headscarf off and incidents of people preaching me or giving me 'that' look hasn't stopped. This all caused me more trouble than good. People just want to push me to do what they think is the right, to dress like them, to eat like them, to talk like them, etc. This has all given me psychological pressure I won’t get into discussing now. People want to advise, to say what they want at my expense, to get anything off their chest and throw it onto mine. And not in a million year will I comply unless I want to.

I will just do what feels right for me. I've forever taken myself out of stupid fake social frames: "the polite girl", " the girl who drives in the right lane only", "the straight-hair girl", "the future submissive wife", "the honor of the family", "the hijabi girl". I'm redefining myself according to what I want only. I'm going to do this at my own pace and no one else's. Let the rest of the world keep fooling each other and themselves.

Back to the hijab issue. For me it's the least of my worries. Apart from the fact that there's a God out there, I'm questioning every single thing in Islam because I want to understand and base my faith on what I believe, not what family, sheikhs, TV programs, and books tell me to believe. I also know that God gave us brains to use them

I've starting a journey and know that God will give me guidance. Even if I may seem to you and others like someone who is heedless or confused, I know I'll come out a much stronger Muslim than anyone else. I'll have based faith on conscious efforts and not on what’s written in my ID (female, Muslim, single)

Why I'm telling you all this? Because I really care for not having any hard feelings against you the way I do for some others. In no way was this message meant to be dry or formal. It’s just a piece of my mind we never get to talk about because we’re always busy talking about shoes, purses, and men :))

Love xxx

N

99.95

2008-12-23T06:09:00.000-08:00

I was at school this morning. Heading to the library with a carry mug of hot tea. Although I had decided to boycott university food because it was unhealthy and OVERpriced, it was too cold to stick to principles.

I stopped by an unhealthy-packed-stuff stand to get cookies.

-- Afternoon, do you have milk or butter cookies?
~ Yes, here you go.
-- How much? A hundred pounds? :)
~ No, 99.95 only ;)
-- Oh, that's less than Mubarak's 99.99% votes
~ You, see? We're better than other things in life.

I handed the guy the 4.50 pounds for the cookies.

It struck me how people who may have nothing in common turn out to have something in common. An bitter understanding realities.

Mocaccino

2008-12-13T06:46:00.000-08:00

Cairo, 1.35 pm
Library. Second floor.

Looking for an Arabic radio station. I couldn't find a good one, or have I developed a westerner ear?

I'm not in the mood for heavy gulf 'g' and 't' if you know what I mean.

Thirsty but will drink later.

Poor Matt is reviewing my writing sample.

I should be telling you what has been going on since I last blogged but don't have time now as you can see.

Back to searching for an Arabic radio station. Can't find any.

It's about time to start writing this damn last paragraph of the paper.
No, work on the summary table first.
Deadline in four hours.

Quraan station. That's better now.

If only the guy at the computer next to me stops munching crisps!

Alright! 12 Times New Roman, double spaced. Make it 11, 1.5 spaced. Looking good.
"In this literature review I deal with the efficacy.." Efficacy? Where did i get this word from? Stupid GRE!! Effectiveness? Efficacy?
"In this paper I have reviewed three studies that deal with.."

I am not really in the mood for analyzing Quraan verses now. AOL will do.
Hmm, Jazz Latino is fine.

Mocachino is the right thing to do now.

Going down the stairs.. hop! hop! hop!

Five little firemen standing in a row....1, 2, 3, 4, 5 they go
Up on the engine with a SHOUT .... Quicker than a wink the fire is out

Here is the smiley librarian. Smile and walk strait out. It's not time for that "Whassup!" chat plus he doesn't know I'm probably at least six years older.

Where has the sun gone? el gaw bard (it's cold).

- One mocaccino please. Here you go, LE 12.

Mmmm, warm and chocolatey, but the best part is the small cube of chocolate they hand you with every cup. Cafe Tabasco, you're the best! I hear thier branch in Mohandessin serves beer. Is it wrong to buy from them, then? Well, it'll be haraam (forbidden) to stay at hotels then. Long story. Let's not get into this now.

Climbing up the stairs.. up! up! up!

Five little monkeys jumping on the bed .... One fell off and bumped his head
Mama called the doctor and the doctor said .... "No more monkeys jumping on the bed!"

Man, I'm out of breath. I need to start believing in sports before the end of the year.

Sneakers off, cross-legged, hair down although you may not be able to figure that out.

Alors!
"In this literature review, I deal with a question that all teachers have to answer every time..."

Gosh, ending a paper is as hard as ending a relationship.

"In this DAMN literature review, it was clear that the decision regarding whether to provide feedback on writing or not, in what form, and how often..."

Cairo, 4.56 pm
Library. Second floor.

Hennoooo!?

2008-10-12T12:43:00.000-07:00

I am supposed to be reading two chapters on teaching methodology (I am one chapter behind) and an article on probability sampling. But who cares! I am also supposed to be watching my diet and instead I am treating myself, for no reason, to a plate of home made cinnamon and vanilla cookies stuffed with strawberry jam. In order to waste more time, I decided to make tea with milk. No milk. Good. I got changed and went down to buy some.

I passed by the hairdresser’s I told you about two times before, the name of which I never cared to know. I decided to go in. For the first time ever I was the only customer there. The owner, who had a toothache, was resting her head on the counter and the three young assistants were chatting their time away.

I walked in and Aleyya, who once told me ‘Call me Kooki’, stood up to attend to me as usual.

- Hello, Kooki. Wow, is this your after Ramadan new look? Nice gold highlights.
• Merci. Do I look nice.
- As pretty as a full moon, as always.
• What do you need today?
- The usual but please don’t change me into a clown. Let my eyebrows look the way you see them.
• Ok, ya gameel , (beauty)!

She turned on an aging cassette player and put the tape on her favorite side. She started singing … in my ear of course. If there is anything I should be grateful for, it would be that she does not sing off key. Then she hums, then she sings, then she gets angry and stops everything.
“He’s a jerk,” she said to one of the other two girls while resting her hand on my head. “I told you. Dumb him. He doesn’t even deserve to see your shadow.”

Then she sings again. And starts her regular attempt at getting me to talk and say any information beyond my name. And of course I stick to ‘NO’ for reasons I might blog about later. So I dress differently to look older and more serious, never take my car key with me, never wear high heels, and never answer my phone in order not to give her a chance to start a conversation. Unfortunately, it seems all this has made me look more obscure to her and helped grow her curiousity.

• Are you engaged?
- No, Aleyya.
• Mafeesh boyfriend (in English)?
- Hmm. No, Aleyya.
• What do you do?
- Teacher.
• Of what?
- English.
• I love languages but I dropped school.
- Why?!
• Because my family back in the village wanted to marry me to my cousin and I told them I wanted to work and would get a job in Cairo. But my boyfriend wants me to go back to school.
- Good. What grade are you in?
• I’m in Year Ten. And he’s in Year Nine. He’s younger than me but he’s mature.
- He must be, otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him.
• That’s true. He is a real man. You know? When he sees me wearing any tight clothes, he boils with jealousy and fights with me and sends me home to get changed. Another time, when we were once invited to the same wedding. Oh, my! The bride was my best friends and pushed me to dance, I started dancing and in less than a minute he gave me that look … oh, my… like fire. I felt as if he slapped me on the face and stopped immediately. It took me ten days after this incidence to make up with him.
- Well, Kooki. It seems that he cares for you a lot. But I don’t see why you won’t continue your education. Have you thought about home schooling? You won’t have to go back to the village to attend school.
• That’s a good idea. I will check it out.
- Great. And another thing.
• What?
- I know he loves you but take good care of yourself.

She smiled shyly and went back to singing again when one of the girls’ telephone rang.
“Hello! … Evening!… Who is it?... No, wrong number,… you’re welcome,” the girl hung up.

Still talking in my ear...
• Fatma has a twang, no? She’s block nosed!
I started laughing.
- What are you saying?
• Yes, she is. Didn’t you hear her say “Henno!” instead of Henno?
- Well, you said Henno instead of ‘Hello’ just like she did now.
• Me?? No. I have a beautiful Henno. It drives men crazy.
- Really?
• Yes, once a man called and it was the wrong number. After he hung up, he phoned again to say “Miss, you have a beautiful Henno. Can we be friends?” I told him No a million times but he still phones every now and then.
- But, Aleyya. I still believe you said Henno!
• And I believe you'll look more beautiful with no eyebrows at all. What do you think?
- I think you have the sexiest Hello ever.

Dear Driver,

2008-10-05T07:47:00.000-07:00

Dear Driver,

You are kindly asked to fasten your seat belt, mute the sound on your computer especially if you are in public, or use earphones with moderate to low volume. We are Your Gateway to Egypt .

I told you to mute or lower the volume. We consulted our best psychologists and they all agreed (of course) to our idea of including sound on this webpage. We thought it might harm your beain cells if you did not hear noise while reading about traffic.

As you can see, everything in the new traffic law is for your safety and happiness, especially the one regarding not allowing "acts of public indecencies" in your car. It says 'do not allow' and not 'do not perform' ;) hehee.

We added only two new terms to the existing traffic law in order to be able to name it New Traffic Law. The new terms were inspired by your generosity. You area asked to buy a first-aid kit and a triangle warning sign. By doing so, you will not only help the West understand that we don't ride camels any more but also contribute to the welfare of your fellow Egyptians who imported triangles and kits. We know that most triangles on the market do not reflect light at all. We are not perfectionists, so do not be one.

As for the wisdom behind raising the fine and not trying to enforce the existing one, we would like to explain to you the threefold wisdom behind this. First, raising the fines gives you and all our dear citizens something to talk about after the issue of skyrocketing prices has lost its appeal. Secondly, this decision goes back to the same principle of trusting your financial cooperation spirit. Thirdly, many people will try to avoid getting fined by staying at home and, therefore, the Egyptian family will regain its stability and strong ties.

Because we care for your sanity, we strongly advise you not to surf through the website. If you insist, we encourage you to read in Arabic or French depending on which one you do not understand at all.

Thank you for being such a passive citizen,

Egypt State Information Service

Coming up: Areas surrounded by the green belt of Cairo will be subject to 'clean air' tax.

a flower

2008-10-04T15:43:00.000-07:00

My name is the plural of the name of this flower.

El Balad

2008-10-02T17:45:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday, I lost an aunt. Let’s say I loved her because she was my mom’s sister.

Last week, I visited her twice at the hospital. She was better the first time I saw her. I told her how pretty she looked, kissed her head and hand, and prayed for her.
On Thursday she looked at young brother and sisters and said “Ok then, I’d like to say bye-bye.” My mom and many other people believe that a person knows they are going to die before they do. I do not know if they base this belief on religion or tradition.

Although farewells are on my top ten list of things I hate in life, I decided to go follow her to her final destination. And although big family gatherings are on the same list, but I knew that this one is different.

It was when we arrived that I realized that I had never visited my mom’s village of origin. Although she was born and raised in Cairo, she is so proud of this village and refers to it as ‘el balad’, the country, meaning hometown. I believe the majority of, if not all, Egyptians have roots in the countryside and you get to see an empty Cairo during holidays because everyone is visiting ‘el balad’, their hometown.

This balad, which is less than an hour away from Cairo, is nothing but a peaceful green peace of heaven. And it is not surprising to see angels there. People in my mom’s family who have not left the village have hearts as green as the fields that surround their houses. They have eyes that smile with tears in them, just like babies. Each one of them has a warm aura around them that instantly touches your heart. They remind you of things you have forgotten about long ago and make you think you must be an evil person.

And there she was lying in the mosque where people gathered to pray. Then she was left alone. We gathered around her grave and prayed for her for long. I left the gathering after a while and walked around the silent graves that lied in the middle of cotton and wheat fields.

I saw names very familiar. Here was the name of my aunt’s husband. He was the grandpa of my childhood friend and because I stayed at their house often, he was my grandfather too. I used to see him wash up and get ready to go to the mosque. My cousin and I used to wait for him at the window and open the door for him. He would take candies and lollipops out of his white galabeyya. “Thank you, Geddo,” we would both say.

I walked further and saw a white marble stone with black words carved in it to read “Here lies Moneera Haamid Qutb who returned to her Lord on December 5, 1989.” I felt my heart beat hard. I had missed her more than I thought I did. I told her that I love her and wish she was there. I do not remember many things about this lady who was a real hanem, lady in Turkish. She got married when she was twelve years old and her husband, my grandpa, used to carry her down high trees. She grew up to later raise nine children on her own after my grandpa died. She did not know how to read or write but had the wisdom of the most sophisticated person you can ever meet. She raised her children without consulting child psychology books, only her heart. She had the strength of a hundred men and my mom is nothing less than that.

I walked through the cotton fields and back to where everyone was on the road getting ready to leave. We were driving back and a train sped next to us. I wanted to tell everyone on that train not to forget to water their green hearts before they wither in the heat of the city.

Get married or get old

2008-09-20T15:06:00.000-07:00

Two months ago I decided to quit my job and be a full time student. When I was submitting my resignation, the chief accountant, the nicest version of an Egyptian woman in her late forties, advised me to go to the social security department and claim the money that was being deducted every month from my salary. Using what calculators have left me of mathematical abilities I knew that this money would keep me comfortable maybe for the rest of the year. I was told that the whole procedure would take around two months, which is … OK!

Although I’m known to be a patient person, I do have a short tolerance span with nonsense and stupidity and there is no place on earth where you can find a huge amount of both like you would in an Egyptian government department.

I decided to drag myself out of bed one Thursday morning to go to the Social Security department to which my last employer is attached. It occupied two floors of a big residential building in an area located one-hour’s drive away from my place. The offices were simply the rooms of the apartments with desks fitted into every corner. Filing shelves were squeezed in every possible inch and stood tired of the heavy dusty untidy paper and sick of citizens fighting with clerks.

I arrived there around eleven in the morning and after passing by five offices I was directed to Apartment Four on the fifth floor which carried a sign: “Pension”. Although I didn’t see how my document should be with that of pensioners, I was not so surprised. I elbowed my way through the zigzags of people till I finally stood in the middle of a room that had three desks and four frowning employees.

‘Good morning, I would like claim my social security money,’ I told one of the ladies.

She was working on a document and didn’t lift her head. She pointed with her pen to the opposite desk. I turned around and repeated the same sentence. The ladies was sitting behind heaps of files and paper, drinking tea and munching at an oily sandwich. She stretched her arm, took my document, shoved it in the middle of one of the heaps.

‘I’ll investigate. Come back in two days,’ she said.
Because I knew that two days meant more than a week, and because I didn’t know how on earth the oily-sandwiched clerk would remember where she placed my documents and what I needed, I went back after a month.

Last Tuesday I decided to check how things where going. Fifth floor, Apartment Four, Pension Department, the office opposite the main door. I was happy to see the office almost empty. It seems people didn’t want to get angry during Ramadan. The clerk I needed to see was not at her desk and I had to wait for ten minutes and bear with the silent female clerk who kept scanning me from head to toe and the noise coming from the other office; a citizen was shouting at one of the clerks for not finishing his document. ‘Have mercy. The man died six months ago and his wife and children need this pension,’ he yelled.

Good, our lady is back .

‘Good morning. I came a month ago to ask about my social security money’
‘What’s your name?’

She opened the cabinet beside her, pulled a brown folder and got my document out.

‘You have another sum from your previous employer. Go upstairs to Mr Mostafa in the archives and ask him to see if the other department has transferred this money to ours.’

Wow. I’m really astonished. I completely didn’t think about that. Great, the government has kept my money? Interesting. Full of excitement, I climbed the stairs to the archives and I am telling you, this is one job you would never want to do and a room you would not want to stand in for five minutes. But who cares now. I have some more money. I could travel abroad for a week or so. Maybe invest in learning a language. I could also buy a professional camera and take photography classes. Or maybe take my brother’s advice and change the car before GAT is here. No, no. I'll attend the wedding of two best friends in the States.

Back to earth at Apartment Four.

‘No, the money is not here yet.’
‘Ok, I will write you a letter to take to the other department and ask them to … Eh da? What’s this? You’re not married?’ she gasped.
‘No, I’m not married. WHY?’
‘Not even engaged? Good that I looked at your hands.’
‘Well, what has this to do with what we’re doing here?!’
‘You can’t claim your money if you’re not married. This is the law.’
‘Why?!’
‘You have to be either married of fifty years old to be able to take it.’
‘Fifty? Five zero? And wwwwait! What has my future husband to do with my social security money?’
‘Why are you worried? It doesn’t mean he’s going to take it from you. And this is the law.’
‘What if I told you I’m not actually married and not planning to ever! I left my job and I want my money back. It’s my right.’
‘Then wait till you are fifty. This is the law.’
‘What if I need it now for an emergency, to study, to GET married, or …’
‘This is the LAW. I didn’t make that law, no?’

The lady started to get mad at me and I started to laugh. I tried to explain to her that I do understand it was not her who made that law, and that I was hoping to get the rationale behind it.

For the hundreds of nonsensical laws in Egypt there is usually a made up reason. This time I really could not imagine any reason. Not even a stupid one.

Official Letter deliverd on the Cairo tram

2008-09-09T06:59:00.000-07:00

Thirty eight years ago, my dad wrote a one-page ‘official’ letter and put it in a sealed envelope which he addressed to Mister/ Mohamed Salah El-Din. His handwriting has not changes at all, although he thinks it has improved. He has changed his signature, though, which is more beautiful now.

On August 8th, 1970, my dad was sitting on the tram with uncle Salah, my mom’s brother. They had been friends for over seven years. They were also members in the same hockey team. Throughout those eight years, my dad used to visit my uncle regularly and was always welcome.

It seems during that time that my dad grew in love with his best friend’s sister, my mom. He sometimes managed to take a glance of her walking around the apartment. Or got lucky when she answered the door with her hair rolls mass up around her head. He was also there when my mom was eighteen and my uncle was bossing her around to wash him a pair of socks. She had had enough and ended up punching my uncle in the face and this is how he learned to wash his socks himslef.

Back on that tram my dad handed an envelope to uncle Salah and asked him to open it after he left. My uncle agreed. When my dad got off, he read the letter and kept smiling to himself until he arrived home.
It read:

Cairo 8/8/1970
I am writing to you to tell you about a matter of a special nature, which I expect to be unexpected. Therefore, I decided to write this letter fearing confrontation, and allowing you time for discussion and consultation without any pressure. In short, I would like us (to become in-laws).
I believe you clearly understand what I mean and that I am talking to you as the man of your family, with all due respect to your brother Gamaal. My family and I hereby officially propose to you:
Kamaal (my dad) : BSc physical education. 25 years old
Father: BA law. Clerk at the Military Personnel Department. Vice president of the Filing Department
Hussein Middle brother. Lieutenant Pilot in the Air Force.
Ahmed: Student in high school
I would like you to consult those who may be concerned after making sure no one else has proposed.
Please keep this matter as a secret between you, Gamaal, Samia (my mom) and your mother until it is announced in due time.
In case someone has proposed, please do not disclose my request as I would be embarrassed and would not be able to visit you at home any more.
Finally, I will be waiting for you at home on Saturday 15/8/1970 at 7 pm.
If you need any further information or clarification you are welcome to come on Monday or Wednesday.
Kindly note and execute these steps with extra care.
Kamaal

Two years later, my parents got married. The whole family knew about the letter which has been a successful way of teasing my dad in big gatherings. I personally use it often on certain occasions, such as when I need my dad to do me a favor. He would rather do it than hear me read the letter.

Baba, did you talk to her brother without asking her opinion?
How could I talk to her about that matter? Of course not. I followed the right channels. I couldn’t cross her brothers.
Oh, I wish you'd had cell phones. At least you'd have texted her to know if she agreed.

It has been thirty eight years and thirty one days since my dad proposed in this letter, which explains how he could put up with such a difficult person as my uncle and which is one reason I like old yellowish letters.

Things that make me HAPPY

2008-09-07T16:00:00.001-07:00

Hmm .. there are many of them actually .. Do you have time to read this?

It feels great to find money in a jacket or pants I don't wear often. Even greater if I'm broke :)to remember someone's name, to go through my grandpa's photos and documents (usually hidden by dad and dug out by me), to walk on a wooden bridge, to wash my mom's feet and give her a pedicure, to meet people who are out of this world, to hear someone sincerely praying for me, to go faster than sixty km/hour in Cairo, to smell cappuccino and eat warm brownies topped with vanilla ice cream, to chat with a good friend, to sunbathe (discovered lately), to sleep on a fresh pillowcase, to roll lie down on grass, to hear a policeman say 'thank you', to try to cook and it works, to see my brother's wardrobe tidy, to pass by my elementary school, to watch cartoon, to unpack, to buy someone's some flowers, to receive a letter, to help a child do their homework .. once, to hear a talkative person say "I'm in a hurry", to wade in the water, to write with a fountain pen, to go snorkeling, to stand on stage and act for a great audience, to go cycling for twenty minutes, to read a page turner book, to pass by a warm bakery, to go home to find my mom had made my favorite dish (stuffed grape leaves and yogurt salad), to attend an unexpectedly good concert, to sing a baby to sleep, to lose weight without going on a diet, to wear silver, to travel to a new country and get quiet people next to me on the plane, to know someone really accepted my apology, to smell one good cigarette being smoked in a car, to see my parent's wedding photos, to feel the wind in my hair, to forget a bad memory, to remember where I parked, to take a nap in winter, to be able to say 'no', to eat chocolate, not to be followed by a shop assistant offering help, to get a non-smoking silent taxi driver, to talk to a friend on the phone and think of a name for her unborn child, to visit a place I used to play at during school holidays, to buy stationery, to forgive someone, to open the window when it's raining, to pray and know I'm heard, to be busy, to eat good new salad, to look at my nursery ID and school record, ...

I'm sure I'll remember some more later. I'll keep you updated ... in a different color.

Oh, the sound of a typrwriter, yellow paper, drinking tea with milk, strumming a guitar, ...

My stepmother

2008-08-31T09:19:00.000-07:00

Egypt is my mother
Her Nile is in my blood
Her sun is in my tan
Her face is in my features
Even my color is that of wheat
The color of your harvest, Egypt

These are not my words, but those of a song known to every Egyptian around my age. We all know it well and probably sang it at school at some point. It has always brought filled us with enthusiasm to make this country the best place on earth.

A couple of weeks ago, I walked into a bookstore famous for its good choice of what to put on its shelves. I found a book that I have seen standing in the same place of the display for months. It’s titled “Egypt is not my mother, … she’s my stepmother.” I knew that the author was using the song I told you about and he was sure that everyone would recognize it. I didn’t quite understand what he meant by the stepmother part or by the picture he chose for the front cover.

I bought the book. It’s a collection of short articles which the author decided to compile in one book. After reading a couple of them, I started to understand why he realized that Egypt was his stepmother.

Last Thursday, I was driving my cousins home late in the evening. There was a traffic jam in an unusual spot of the city. When I approached the end of the street I saw that the reason was a ‘lagna’ – literally means a committee or a checkpoint and Egyptians call it a ‘kamiin’ –ambush. In the traffic world of Egypt, it means that a couple of middle or high ranked traffic police officers and a number of soldiers have parked their cars to do one of two things: 1- to comb the area looking for a suspect, or 2- to check everyone’s licenses (!) which should be OK.

It was a kamiin of the second type.

I approached the soldier and he asked for both the car and my driver’s license. I handed them to him and, seeing that they were fine, he kept them and walked to the front of my car and bent over to check whatever.

He handed the licenses to the officer who was already holding enough of them. Because Egypt is my mother, she’s taught me what to do in these situations. I parked the car and walked over to the officer.
“Kheir? Hope things are OK. Can I have the licenses back?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“Obliteration of numbers on the plate.”

I didn’t respond. I left him surrounded by the many motorists who were begging him to get their licenses back. I walked to my car and did as the soldier did earlier. Numbers on the plate perfectly readable if you are standing a month away. The plate is bent at the bottom due to driving on the blessed bumpy streets of Cairo.
“There’s nothing wrong with the plate.”
“We don’t think the same.”

Okay. Now I understand. Ramadan is almost there and they need some money to go grocery shopping. Egypt, my mother, also taught me this and told me that if I argue with this officer I might end up being beaten up at some point or maybe go home with a smashed car and still with no licenses in hand.
“What do I need to do?”
“Pay 150 pound now or we keep the license and you collect them later from the traffic department.”
“I’ll pay now.”

I got the money and waited for my turn to pay.

Despite all the hatred my heart has for Egyptian police officers, I found myself looking at his face trying to have eye contact with him. I wanted to tell him what my mouth couldn’t utter. I wanted to ask him when the last time he had a good night’s sleep was or if ever ate food bought with blessed money. I wanted to tell him that he would be another reason why I want to leave this country although I love it more that he did. I wanted him to see the cold anger that was boiling inside me.

He never lifted his eyes off the receipt book. He handed me my receipt, both licenses, and the change.
“Thank you,” he said and I was now sure that he was not fully an Egyptian police officer yet. There was a trace of conscience somewhere between his ribs, which was not enough, though, to stop him from turning a deaf ear to all the voices around him.

Back in the car I looked at the receipt and it read:
(.. and they paid the minimum fine for ‘changing the shape of the plate’). Oh, great. He didn’t even have that trace.

And yes, I now think that Egypt to him is definitely a mother who, to me, has started to feel like a inhumane stepmother.

Sunrise .. at last

2008-08-29T05:40:00.001-07:00

On the notice screen, it had said that sailing from Luxor to Qena would be at 5:30 a.m.. I had been tossing in bed since 1:00 a.m.. Insomniac for a reason.

I expected the vibration caused by the movement of the boat to help me sleep. It did not. I got off bed, put a comfortable dress on, passed through the bar, grabbed a cup of tea, and went up on deck. I thought I was going to be the first person there but she was.

She was carrying a camera with as many lenses as the times you would envy her. She kept moving in her white linen shirt and khaki pants, from side to side, taking photos of the green farms, the proud palm trees, the little boats, the fishermen, and the small houses that hugged the Nile and followed us whenever we sailed.

I sat quietly on a comfortable sofa, enjoying everything she saw and watching her playing with her camera. The sun started to shyly come out behind the palm trees and in no time it was up right in front of us.

"Excuse me, do you mind taking a picture of me?"

She took my camera and, before I even suggest, lifted my arms and I turned to face the sun. I felt the cold wind play with my hair, the sun shine inside me and wash away the pain of too many sleepless nights, the trees caress my face and promise me .. things.

I knew that finally admitting to a decision made long ago was what took the sleep away. I felt overwhelmed by how stupidly I agreed to be hurt and how easy doing what I knew to be right seemed.

I went back to my cabin, did not draw the curtains and could finally sleep that day.

I finally agreed to 'Let Myself Be'.

Dancing on the street

2008-08-18T11:55:00.001-07:00

9 a.m.
I woke up to a familiar sound of heavy metal bars being thrown on asphalt. I did not move out of bed. I knew what it was. They were bringing stuff needed for a wedding that was going to take place on the street later in the evening.

11 a.m.
I looked from the balcony and saw the equipment. From so many previous observations, throughout all my life actually, I knew that those bars were later going to be built into a stage which is of the type needed for a band and not a DJ. Since there would be a band, and unlike the DJ weddings, this promised an all night celebration.The possibilities this kind of stage bring are:
I) a belly dancer, beer and hash
II) no belly dancer (if they do not have enough money) but there is still beer and hash
III) there is none of the three and it is merely going to be a noisy evening
I always pray for Scenario III to happen and it rarely does. This time, because I wanted to take pictures of the belly dancer and hash, Scenario III did happen.The occasion was the henna of a guy who lives at number twenty four on my street. A henna is a celebration that takes place on the night before the wedding day. The women of the family bake henna herbs and put candles in the middle of it and passes it around for people to dye their hands with it.

11 p.m.
I took an interesting short clip instead of pictures of people cracking hash.
I wanted to share it with you because …
… I love the song: the tune, the Upper Egyptian beat, and the lyrics. It makes you want to dance to it.
… it is an authentic picture of how some Egyptians celebrate their happy occasions on the street. They rent a stage, chairs and colored lamps for which they steal electricity from the closest lamp posts. They hire a DJ or a band which come with their huge speakers. For financial reasons, some families would rather give the whole neighborhood a six hour headache than renting a celebration hall at a club.
… this celebration tells you that although the guy’s henna was not held at the Marriot by the Nile, he and his family were still extremely happy. On the street yesterday were people who came out to share the happy occasion. They were wearing their gallabeyyas and black dresses, listening to music that reminded them of where they originally came from, dancing in groups and individually, kissing and hugging and shaking hands and congratulating each other.
… (in case you have not noticed) there was a veiled girl wearing a rather tight outfit, dancing on the street just beside a bunch of guys. Just a quick reminder, the henna was on the street, which means that tens of people were watching from their balconies. I was one of them. This girl’s family was most around. Everyone was clapping hands and having fun. I would say some of her male family members, a brother, an uncle or some cousins, were probably around as well. No one thought it was inappropriate because for them it was absolutely acceptable for her to compliment the family of the couple by dancing.
… this supports my theory about the increased harassment on the streets of Cairo. Here was a female that I am sure the majority of guys around thought to be sexy. Yet, no one dared to stare, harass or bother her. If they had done, it would have meant they disrespected her family and the whole thing might have turned into a huge fight. This, in turn, would have translated into an attempt to ruin the celebration on purpose. Everyone knew the rules and everyone did follow them.
… those same men who knew very well how to behave are the same guys who hang around the street and harass girls they do not know. So they do not need all the ‘Would you accept this for your sister?’ slogans promoted to face the increased sexual harassment incidents in Cairo.

3 a.m.
The band suddenly stopped playing and started putting their instruments into their cases. Everyone droped silent and seemed to know what was going on. There was a white microbus behind stage. I thought it was the one that came to pick up the band. My mom said this was not the case.
I saw a slim guy with a pistol in his belt and I instantly knew what was to come.This was supposed to be a police van patroling the area to make sure things were alright. This meant that they were there to stop the celebration because the tent was blocking the street and the music was too loud.What they were really doing, as I am sure most of you have already guessed, was roaming around to find opportunities for “dinner”. One of the groom's family went over to them and gave them some money (Mom says LE 50 to LE 100). The microbus reversed and drove away.

The keyboard was out of its case again.

Viva Egypt.

Five days to remember **

2008-08-16T04:57:00.000-07:00

Day 4: On Deck
It was an hour before sunset. I decided to use the deck before the Italian guests returned back from their tour.
Half an hour later, a guy who was in the pool with his son a while ago walked towards me.

“Hi. Do you speak English?” he asked.
“A little,” I replied and did not stand up.
“So, are you Italian?” “No, Egyptian.”
“You’re on holiday?”
“No, on business actually. I’m the English trainer of the staff.”
“Oh, really. Well, their English is already good.”
“Thanks, I let them know you said so.”

He was a huge guy in his, I'd say, mid-forties with a big mustache and a beard. He was wearing shorts and a big T-shirt. Or maybe he made it look so. He was standing bare feet.
A minute later, a lady in a khaki linen dress walked towards us.

“Hey, you missed the sunset,” he told her.
“I know,” she replied.
“Oh, we haven’t introduced ourselves,” he said and we did.
“This is my wife Carine. Carine, she’s the English instructor of the staff here.”
“Oh, your English is very good. You’ve never studied abroad?”
“Not, yet,” I replied. “Is this your first time in Egypt?”
“No,” she replied. “We came here twenty years ago on our honey moon. We stayed three days with our backpacks in a felucca. This time we’re here with the kids.”
“You’ve made a very good choice,” I said.
There was a nervous silence after which Carine said “Ok. We don’t want to keep you from enjoying the sunset. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure to meet you, too.”
I shook hands with both of them. And they went back to their subbeds.

Later in the evening. I walked into the restaurant for dinner and the whole family was there. For some reason, they looked to me like the couple in The American Beauty, unhappy. The husband sat with his back to the door and was doing the talking. A couple of minutes later, the wife and the son left. She passed by me and we both avoided each other. The husband and the girl sat silently. When they were leaving, he looked at me.
“Busy evening. No tables. Sorry you had dinner late.”
“I know. It’s ok, though.”
They left the restaurant and I never saw them again.

Hmm. In any case, I would have felt jealous the way she did. Maybe more, actually. Is it a mid life crisis? Plus …

“Ok, Miss,” the waiter interrupted my thoughts. “What would you like for dessert?”
“No, nothing, Ayman. I’m already full.”
“No way. Brownie with vanilla ice-cream or sweet baked pumpkin?”

Day 5: Sidi Aboul Haggag

Five days ago I took this picture because it looked interesting to see a mosque inside a temple.
Only today I knew it was of Aboul Haggag, a sufi leader whose lineage goes back to Prophet Mohamed and who came to Luxor and built this mosque at the time when the whole temple was buried under the sand. When they discovered the temple the mosque stayed there.
Today was the last day for the preparation made to celebrate Aboul Haggag’s ‘moolid’– birthday.
People gathered in the park behind the temple and belt a celebration tent close to his grave. I was having lunch with two of my students who insisted on showing me a bit of the city and treat me to lunch.

We sat at a restaurant overlooking all everything, Luxor temple, Aboul Haggag’s mosque, the tent, the little accessories and toys stands, and the Nile.
It was almost ten in the evening and we decided to leave.

The place where Aboul Haggag was buried was being restored but were still going in and out trying hard to reach his grave. Once they reached it, they put their hand on the green cloth covering it, recited some verses of Quran and prayed for what they wanted. Some of them thought that, since he was related to Prophet Mohamed, he could be a mediator and ask God to give them what they wanted. Some of them even sat there at the foot of the grave. Others were chanting and sitting around someone who later gave a sermon.
Best of all were the mothers and children sitting on the grass outside enjoying the cool breeze of summer.
Best of all was not the luxurious boat for which people paid tens of thousands of dollars.
Best of all was the people who sincerely welcomed me and tried to make me happy.
Best of all to know that good people have not vanished from the world yet.

Five days to remember *

2008-08-14T09:40:00.000-07:00

Sunboat III was going to sail for one day and I had to move to Sunboat II and board at the restaurant of Boat IV. You got that? Anyway!

It was lunch time. I walked into the other boat, introduced myself to the cold-faced receptionist. I entered the restaurant and my initial impression was confirmed – there is an unfriendly atmosphere for some reason. Waiters in the restaurant kept looking at each other and in less than one minute everyone knew who I was.

“Would you like to drink something, Miss?” one of them asked.
“Red wine, please!” I replied. Without smiling. His eyes grew into two tires of a huge lorry. I smiled and looked at my plate. “Just water, please.”
“Ok. Revenge on the 22nd. I’m in your class then,” he smiled the reply and went to get the water.

Day 3: Up, up, up we went
My alarm clock went off at five forty in the morning. I jumped out of bed and in no time was dressed and ready at the reception. At five fifty-five a tall local guy walked hurriedly towards me
“Good morning, Ma’am. You must be Ms. Sherine.”
“Good morning. I assume it’s me who you’re looking for. Can I see your list?”
“Sure, Ma’am.”
“Okay, I’m not Sherine, but this is my cabin number. So, it’s me. AND, I’m not a VIP, ... please,” I smiled and handed him the slate. He smiled back and we walked to the minibus that took us to the boats.

And I thought I was early. Five small motor boats were already full. I stepped in and out of all of them till I reached the last one. There were cups and saucers, cake, tea and coffee. A young man attended to everyone and in less than five minutes we reached the west bank of Luxor. Another minibus was waiting for us and drove us through green fields till we reached our destination.

Hot-air Balloons of all colors were rising above the houses. It looked as if the kids inside the houses had tied them to their beds the previous night.

We got into the balloon, and got safety instructions from a Captain Ahmed, a mid-twenties guy who spoke English with a mixture of Luxor accent and many mistakes. But we all understood him.

We started to rise above the fields and I felt I had wings.
I became everyone I saw.

A woman shepherding goats by a small canal on her field.

A farmer ploughing his land using two buffalos another using his own legs.

Ramsis II on the walls of Habu temple.

Another balloon passenger looking my direction.

A young child lying in bed on the roof of his house and waiving to the passenger of the balloon that just passed above him. His eyes smiling more than his lips did.

“Where are we going to land, then?” I asked the captain.
“Anywhere. It depends where the wind takes us.”
“I see. And what has the poor owner of the land to do with all this balloons thing.”
“A couple of years ago, farmers used to love seeing us land in their fields and always welcomed our guests. Now, if I land in an arid field, the farmer will come crying about the ‘gold’ he had planted the day before. We usually have to shut him up with a hundred pounds or so.”
“What do you have to do to be a balloon captain?”
“I studied for a year and a half before I got the license. You do eight courses, three of them are medical. Here, have some water, you’re standing right under the flame.”

Dinner Time
It was eight forty five. I was wearing something that followed the dress code on the boat. A white blouse with white satin collar and cuffs. A touch of make-up and off I went. The restaurant was almost empty as I expected.

I walked in and the two waiters, who were my students, greeted me with a big smile. One of them walked over and tucked the chair under me while the other brought the menu.
I made the order and waited.
Less than five minutes later, the appetizer arrived. And ten minutes after that I was having my soup.
“Hey, Ayman. Sorry, since you’re not busy now. Would you mind explaining the unexplainable presence of this amount of utensils? I assume this is for soup. But what is up with the others?”
“SURE, Miss. My pleasure,” he said and in less than thirty seconds he enthusiastically explained the order in which the knives and forks were used.
“Oh, ok. I am glad it’s not a seven dish menu,” I said after thanking him.

The following day, during a quick chat during lunch, I discovered that this waiter, Ayman, came from a village in the Nile Delta called Tonoub. A name that has an unforgettable place in my heart. It was where my mom’s aunt used to live. We visited her almost every summer. I believe this place is what made me so in love with the countryside.
“Small world, Miss. This is where I come from,” he said pointing to his chest and his face brightened up.

Five days to remember

2008-08-14T09:33:00.000-07:00

It was one of the very few times in my life that I received something I needed without asking for it. You know that feeling when you have been walking under a summer’s sun for an hour and you finally you decide to make a turn and find yourself walking through a narrow shaded alley?
That is what happened to me over the past few days.

A couple of weeks ago, I was contacted by a previous employer and asked if I was interested in teaching a Tourism English intensive course on a boat in Luxor. “I am in for it!” was my reply without asking about any details.

I spent five reviving rejuvenating self-assuring days of my life. I was given a chance to step outside my current self and see her through others’ eyes, the thing I had been trying to do for months.

I headed to the airport on early Saturday morning. On the airplane, I sat next to and behind a group of French tourists who seemed surprised why I was not as excited as they were. I was just still hot with the two hours’ walk in the sun I told you about.

At Luxor airport, I was met by a quiet Mr. Khaled who was holding a sign with the company’s logo. He greeted me with a broad smile, carried my laptop, pushed the trolley to the micro bus and, in less than ten minutes, escorted me into the reception of the boat. These things never really happen to me in Cairo. At least not getting anywhere from the airport in ten minutes.

Day 1: Abercrombie & Kent Sunboat III. Cabin 108.

I can never describe how warm the boat and the cabin felt; it was one of the places that immediately make you feel home. That could be one reason why Sunboat III is more expensive than the more modern Sunboat IV. The boat can accommodate for thirty two guests only and the friendly staff can and do take excellent care of every single one of them.

“No, Miss. We’re talking abut VIP’s. The First Lady, ambassadors, the owner of CNN, the Chief of CIB, Naomi Campbell, Gulf Kings and Princes, etc. With A&K, you expect ZERO mistakes,” a tour operator and one of my students once told me.

I was still at the stage of testing the waters. I did not leave my cabin often, nor wandered around.

In the evening, I took a walk by the Corniche, listened to the quietness of the city and watching the sunset.

Day 2: Moroccan?
“Yes, speak some Arabic please. People here are already debating whether you are Moroccan or Tunisian, Miss,” one of my students said teasingly. It seems that being silent made them think I was trying to be mysterious.
“No, my color can only be that of someone from Aswan, no?” I answered.
“No way! You are Aswani?” his eyes gleamed.
“I have Aswani roots and my dad is your color,” it felt proud to say so for some reason, although I have never been to my dad’s village, nor was he born there.
“That’s what I thought. You can’t be but from here. You look so much like my fiancée. Same everything. I call her Nefertary,” he replied.
“And you are Ramsis II?” I asked him.

Glitter

2008-08-08T11:13:00.000-07:00

Today I revisited the hairdresser I told you about in Shower Gella and for the same reason: to have some fun, but I am not sure if I did.

I walked in and there was no less than eleven women crammed into the little shop. I spotted the girl who usually attends to me and she was having lunch as usual.

“Should I come by some other time? I think you are busy today,” I asked her, feeling claustrophobic.
“No, no. I’ll be with you in a minute,” she replied

I squeezed my body between a mom with two little girls, one of who was jumping up and down like a chimpanzee, and the other, a five year old, was getting changed! The other lady was taking up one third of the seat that was made to accommodate two only.

Oooh, wow!! A bride. How nice. Hmm, she is not smiling a lot. She will probably smile later.
The hairdresser and owner of the shop, Om To’aa, was taking care of the bride, for who else would dare to handle such an important client? The bride's make up was done: tons of foundation and powder that must have blocked off the oxygen from the bride’s skin. And, of course, the point was to make her look as fair-skinned as possible. She had dark fuchsia and blue eye shadow and a thick layer of mascara. She looked pretty anyway.

My granny used to think that God brightens up a bride’s face no matter what. I think she was right, for I have never seen an ugly bride in my life.

Om To’aa had tied the bride’s hair into a pony tail and was now rolling thick hair strands to transform the bun into a fountain of hair, a do I last saw in the 1980s something. Then she decorated the bun with small white artificial flowers and glittery gel.

“Spray!”

And she sprayed the poor girl’s hair as if raiding a cockroach’s colony. The girl did not object. She still looked pretty.

“This is for when you take it off for your husband.” Take what off?!
Suddenly, the hairdresser took a glittery ornamented triangle shaped white piece of cloth and started tying it over the hairdo. Ok, a veiled bride. She still looks nice with the glittery veil.
Another layer, another layer, a pink flower here, a chiffon veil over her face. Her friends started taking pictures of her, asking her to pose here and there.
Why is she not talking or smiling?

After ten minutes, her family was outside waiting for her.

“Yalla, hurry up. Give it to me,” Om To’aa took a rectangular piece of ornamented silk cloth that had two holes in it. It turned out to be a face cover. Oh, ok. A niqabi bride. Hmm.

“No, no. My brother is not going to like this. It’s too attention seeking,” the bride said.
“Are you crazy? Nothing is showing of you, and you are a bride, and you are nineteeeeeeen,” one of her friends, who seemed to had had enough, started to shout.
“Still. He’s going to get angry. Let me use the side with no glitter.”
“Oh, what’s the point of coming here then? I swear nothing is showing, not even your eyes.”

She finally put the face cover on and went out to meet her groom and family. In less than one minute she was back into the shop. No one said anything and I did not understand what was going on.

Usually, it is just the groom being a bit late. This time, it was the brother being an @#%$^$& (Yes, seven letters). He insisted on going home to get something to COVER his sister. I had no idea how he was planning to cover her because she was already covered head to toe. I could only imagine him bringing a white bed sheet.

It occurred to me then that Muslims also use plain white sheets to wrap a body before burying it.

I also remembered something else I learned lately: people we feel sad for can be the happiest on earth.

I do hope she is one of them.

Gusteau

2008-08-04T10:44:00.000-07:00

"If you keep thinking about what you've left behind, you'll never be able to see what lies ahead."

Chef Gusteau to Remy ~ Ratatouille

A Scoop from Paradise

2008-08-02T13:50:00.000-07:00

We arrived there at quarter to one in the afternoon.

“Are those a sample of the tens of virgins good men are going to get in paradise?” I said to my friend upon seeing the bunch of girls standing by the gate to receive guests. They were in their mini-skirt-and-tank-top uniform having all sorts of hair styles and colors. They seemed to be so professional, dancing to music at the reception.

She laughed at the comment and we got off the car, leaving her husband to drive around Marina and find a beach to stay at. We got the tickets and walked behind the straw walls that had earlier made it impossible to see what was behind.

“What are these three guys doing in here?” it felt good to ask in that tone you know.
“They're cleaning the beach and will leave at one pm, Miss. Please have a seat or go get changed till they leave,” the female security officer answered.

Four hours later the beach was packed. It was the first time for me to see so many female bodies in one place: swimming, singing and belly dancing, smoking shisha, laughing, chatting, sunbathing in their bikinis, lying down in hammocks or on the grass, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. All in no more than a six hundred meter square beach. A female only beach called Yashmak.

My friend and I went into the sea, chatted, laughed, and sunbathed for a while before she left to spend some time with her husband. I read a couple of pages of the new book I brought along, went back into the sea, and lied down in the sun. It was not long before a crusade of women came to occupy my friend’s sun bed and the space around it. I still have no idea how many there was of them.

No, I’m not going to swim today. I have skin très délicate.
Oh, I love your bikinis, très joli. Where did you buy them?
I bought them last time I was in Italy. They were two hundred Euros or so.
Lilly? What do you think of my new hair color?
It’s suits ta coleur a lot. A couple of highlights would make it even more beautiful.
Well, my coiffeur suggested I do that when I get bored. He knows that I’d be back soon asking for a color change?

Yes, that was the only bad thing about the day. Being on a female only beach has its advantages and disadvantages, you know?

I have to say it was one of the few good days I had in a while, though. The company was as good as sunbathing for the first time. My friend is one of the coolest girls I know. We get a long very well. She is funny, outgoing, smiley and smart.
She kept code switching between Arabic and Spanish talking to me and her husband.

The three of us decided on Chinese food for lunch at around five thirty. At the table, her husband talked to me for the first time.
Enti modarresa?
Wow, you speak Arabic?
Shwayya. (a little)
We chatted in Arabic, had lunch, and started the drive back. They both switched back to Spanish after a while. I enjoyed listening to the long strings of incomprehensible lively Spanish utterances mixed with the many strings of thoughts passing my mind.

Yes, I am still conservative and I do not mind, rather, I enjoy it as much as the tank-top uniformed girls enjoy their lives.

Singular and Plural Masculine Pronouns in Egyptian Colloquial Arabic

2008-07-25T12:55:00.000-07:00

Are you going out?

Yes, mom. I wont' be late.

Where are you off to?

Zamalik. I'm meeting an ex-(male) student who's back from London and wants to say Hi.

What shall I tell your brother, then?

Tell him "I'm meeting an ex-(male) student who's back from London and wants to say Hi."

Why the headache? Some things are better left untold.

Mom, tell him whatever you want.

I'll say ex-students phoned and you're going to have coffee with them.

In two minutes

2008-07-24T14:37:00.000-07:00

'I'm leaving tomorrow and I have been holding myself. You know how much I love you, no?
You're just like any of my daughters to me and I hope you don't get upset.

You have been to Aya's funeral and you see how it could have been you. She was among us a week ago. Life is short, dear. This is the life of testing, and the other is the life of eternity. You'll see the truth of all this in your grave, a dark hole in the ground.

You think you look more beautiful without the veil? I swear you don't. Your beauty was in your headscarf. You looked as pretty as a full moon.

God is always there for those who watch him in their actions and follow his straight path. Don't forget him so that he doesn't forget you.

May Allah guide you, love.'

news

2008-07-16T13:20:00.000-07:00

My mom heard the news and sent my dad to tell me.

You never know how they feel until you lose one the way they did.

I see her smiling at everyone. I see her delicate body dancing at a wedding. I see her talking to me when I ran into her on the subway. I see her twenty happy years gleamining in her eyes. I see myself in her place.

And now she is gone. One cousin instead of the other would have been lost. That simple.

Oh God, I am not ready to meet You. I am just not. Please do not take me unless You are happy with me. Do not take me unless my heart is as pure as snow. Do not take me now. I need your guidance and do not know where to look for it. I am tired and have never ever been that tired before. I really cannot take it any more. I feel the whole world on my shoulders. I lost my smile, the taste of everything, and do not want to lose myself.

You know me better than I know myself. You know how fragile I have become and how weary and confused I have been. I never doubted Your presence and never will. I feel it in every breath I take. If all that is happening to me now is because of something I did, please forgive it and make me forget it. If this is all a test, I am unable to bear it. I do not want to hear them talk about You. I do not trust anyone anymore. They all claim to know the path to You and I just dislike their voices. I need You to help me find You and know that I will never have peace again unless You give me guidance. Only You and no one else.

Only you can rest her soul.

By Sunset

2008-07-15T12:38:00.000-07:00

- Ok, then. Why is pork prohibited? And please don’t give me the ‘it transmits diseases thing’ because this could also be caused by beef.

All these kinds of questions have been dealt with for years. I’m not going to try to answer them for you because I don’t think this is your problem. You need to find answers.

- I've tried and no one has been able to provide plausible answers. Plus, if there were such answers, why are these questions still being asked?

You know what? I think you're dealing with the whole thing in the wrong way. You need to start with open heart and mind and then seek guidance, and not by taking two issues, pork and alcohol, and rotating around them.

- I still think if these are simple questions on my mind, there should be equally simple answers.

Listen, some people go into religion and try to find answers that help them do what they want and justify what they do. Others truly want to find answers and they don’t merely aim at proving they are right. They are after the truth. If you are of the first type, I'm telling you, you will keep digging for answers that appeal to your desires and end up going round and round in a vicious circle because you will not want accept an answer that doesn’t match what you want. There are answers for everything if you have an open heart. And this is where you should start.

- And how do I find those true answers?

Ask trustworthy people.

- Oh, really? And where are they? And who do you trust? And who qualifies as a trustworthy source? They all follow someone before them - there is nothing new. Plus, there is usually more than one answer to almost every single question and some questions just exist without answers.

Listen, I really am telling you. I myself once doubted the presence of God and now I am at peace with everything because I did want to find true answers and worked hard. It was not an easy stage at all, but here we are. I’m not saying it’s over for me, I’m always reading and trying to educate myself, but my faith is unshakable now.

- And how did you reach that?

Seeing millions of people around me believing in this book - I don’t think it's nonsense. I don’t think that your heart beats because it beats. He is making it beat this way for you.

I was sitting at the head of the table. She was sitting to my left. He to my right. I kept moving my eyes between them wishing this conversation never ended or that it never started.

I do not know if sitting between them was by any chance symbolic.

The heated conversation ended after sunset. I have listened to this same discussion before. But it is usually louder and much more heated. It is always between another two: my mind and my heart.

And I have always wished a sunset could end it.

Surreeeeeender II

2008-07-07T06:54:00.000-07:00

I will not be ablet to go to this weekend's session but at least I can share with you the announcement.

Study Circle This Week: Polygamy;)

Hello everyone,

Here is your chance to learn how to share your husband with other wives:)))))) Just kidding. But I bet you will be interested to know how some women were more than happy to do this and in fact found their husbands other wives. Well, you will get to meet some, at least ONE.

We will cover the historical background on this subject and its relevance to other Abrahamic religions, Judaism and Christianity and how polygammy has been practiced for centuries. We will take a close look at Islamic stance on this subject and will examine the positive and negative aspect of this controversial topic.

Please bring with you all your questions and a dish to share with others. The time is from 5-9 pm at my home in (..........) Address is attached for anyone new.

Please RSVP as soon as possible as I may have to turn down some late responders if we have more than we can fit in the house.

Looking forward to see your shinning faces:)

Peace,

(..............)

The Power of Et-tallaaga

2008-07-04T16:48:00.001-07:00

I have always been somewhat observant of other people’s personal habits. Some of them are disgusting, funny, unbearable, boring, hilarious … etc. My dad, for example, if he wakes up in the middle of the night, the first thing he does is to go to the kitchen, eat something sweet, and go back to bed. My mom makes herself a big cup of tea in the morning and rarely finishes it. One of my cousins has the habit of taking a bite of whatever you have in your hand. So if a big group is eating and she has just finished her lunch, she’d still ask everyone to let her taste what they are having. Another cousin is always dead tired after work. She goes home and lies down on the couch in front of TV without even changing clothes, and in the process deprives everyone of the communal space. She falls asleep in less than five minutes. Ask her to go get changed and then sleep and you get the “I am not asleep. I am watching the program”. If you try to convince her, you will be making the gravest mistake ever. You will create the grumpiest person ever for the rest of the day. A young cousin of mine, poor thing, would look at the ceiling whenever she is telling a lie. Her sister, another poor thing, has to start off a lie saying “shoofi, khallini a’oolik” (look, let me tell you). Yes, I do have many cousins.

I do not really know many of my habits, although there are a few I can identify. Like my mom, I rarely finish my cup of tea. Like my dad, if I wake up in the middle of the night, I will grab something from the fridge, usually fruit. Whenever I am in a bad mood a cartoon will fix it if the shower does not. During the days I am studying for a final exam, I have to buy a new pen, with the unconscious hope that it will write the correct answers on its own. I keep my note pad in my purse all the time. It is full of notes I rarely, if ever, look at or consult later. Oh, and I am the deadline girl. Last year, I submitted an application on May 22nd at 4.20 pm and the deadline was May 22nd at 4.30 pm. Another very bad habit of mine is forgetting a lie after telling it. So I would tell you “I went to the cinema on my own” and then talk to another person in your presence saying “Yes, I remember. It was right after we went to the cinema last week.” No stares or winks from that person can help me understand I am being such a clumsy liar and worse than that stupid teenager who always spoils plans.

But really … one of my habits is a funnily and nonsensical one: I open the fridge when I am not hungry or thirsty, stare at things aimlessly, just to THINK something over. Why not open my wardrobe for instance? Why not look outside the window? Why not sit down and write my ideas down? Why not anything other than et-tallaaga? Is it the coolness that comes out or the colorfulness and the smells? No idea!!

I caught myself doing this very thing today. My dad caught me as well. I asked him why he thought I open the fridge to think and he gave a friendly chuckle and said that people sometimes do things for no reason. I actually believe there must be a reason for this. Not that I have some unemployed cells in my brain to use and wonder about this. It was just interesting to realize a habit I have had for so long. I realized it at a time when I was thinking to myself why I was automatically doing the same mistake. Is it simply, like my dad said, that people sometimes do things for no reason?

Surreeeeender

2008-06-30T04:24:00.000-07:00

The best place and time to write a blog entry is in bed on a day off. You sleep in, stay in bed for fifteen minutes thinking about a couple of things you have been avoiding, quickly get up before they haunt your day, and have a good breakfast. Your father will be making all sorts of noise in the kitchen and you think you would pay a year of your life and be able to live on your own. Go to your room again, sit in bed with your computer on your lap, turn on the fan, play some music, and definitely use headphone or the same father will come to ask you “Where did you get this Bach concerto from? You know.. the first time I heard it. Your uncle Ahmed and I used to share the same room and he never liked classical music. But your uncle Hussein loved it. I was in high school when my dad insisted I had a violin tutor. You granny did not like it and told him “You’re going to ruin the boy’s future.” Have you heard Paganini’s … …”

Then you start writing. You have a topic on your mind and that is why you decided to write, no? Instead of being to the point, you start off writing an unnecessarily long introduction. You are still thinking about those same topics you thought you could avoid. You decide to go ahead and write.

Stop Bach and play Fayrouz. She is much more peaceful.

Last Friday, June 27th, at 5.30 pm, I was standing in front of her door. This meeting had been arranged two weeks earlier. I had received an e-mail titled ‘Muslim Female Study Circle.’ Having been looking for some place to attend Islamic lessons, I immediately e-mailed back.

Because the …

Oh no please not this song. Skip.

Because the e-mail was in English and sent by a lady studying at the American University, I assumed the meeting would differ in nature from those I dislike. At least people with good education do read a lot and tend to have a slightly more open-minded approach to religions, customs, and traditions.

I was received by the housekeeper. I walked in the living room to see five young ladies in their twenties. I said Salamo Alaykom and my name. They replied to my greeting and none said her name. I sat at the nearest chair although I wanted to sit on the floor.

It seemed it was one of my most silent days. I sat there saying nothing for almost thirty minutes not even engaging in their chat with eye contact. An hour later the hostess came in and I stood up to greet her and thank her for having me in her house.

She was a smiley lady in her mid fifties. If I was not told earlier she was Iranian, she would have undoubtedly passed for an Egyptian. She spoke very good English as she had lived in the States for over fifteen years. She was wearing a green embroidered dress and an olive green heard scarf. It took me a while to realize that she must have kept her head covered because there were a couple non-Muslim girls around.

By the time she started the lecture, we had become ten: two Americans, two German, five Egyptians, and one I did not know where she was from. She kept her eyes fixed to her feet and never uttered a word.

Oh, I love this song.

I decided to sit on the cushions scattered on the floor. I was now sitting on the side of the room that had the foreigners. It seemed that sitting there and having my hair styled into a funny way I was why I got asked if I were Egyptian!

The lecture was supposed to be on the ‘purification of the soul’. Half of it, though, was spent on how our hostess got married the first time and another time to a Sheikh who was already married to two other women and had nothing to offer. And how she accepted him because she wanted to learn about religion from him.

I had been warned by a couple of friends that this lady was so strict and judgmental. And before I came I decided not to throw in any of my ‘questions’ so that I do not generate digressions and confuse others. Besides, I was there to see if she was the kind of scholar I have been looking for.

“The happiest life you can ever have as a woman is one that is lead in accordance with what Allah has ordained for you. As Muslim women, surreeeeeender to God and do whatever He asks us to.” she said moving her arms in a gesture similar to that made by a boxing referee upon counting ten.

"So if Allah asks you to cover your head, you just do it because He knows what’s best for you. Allah says in His book …” and she recited a controversial verse from Quran.

I was about to jump in but the youngest among us was too fast. “But this verse was revealed only for the wives of Mohammed because Allah wanted them to be distinguished from other women,” she said. Her mom gave her that gaze apparently for daring to say something contrary to the hostess she had been videotaping.

“Yes, I know this incident and we will dedicate a whole lecture to Hijab later insha’allah” was the only reply.

“Your well being is like a triangle: physical well being, spiritual balance, and your mental peace. They are three tubes connected to each other. If there is a clog somewhere, you feel imbalanced.”

‘I like this tube idea. But what if some of your spiritual ideas cannot pass through the mental tube?’ I did not ask.

“If you were married and you spent six hours cooking a meal for your husband. When he comes home he says I do not like all this food. I would rather have a cheese sandwich. What do you do? You smile warmly, go the kitchen, and make him a sandwich. What if he looks at this wall and says that this tree in the painting depresses him? I would immediately walk to the painting even if I liked it and take it down.”

At this point, I and the three foreigners sitting around me had been nervously shaking our feet for too long. I felt the ‘feminist vein’, that someone once told me I had, starting to pulse harder. Again I was too slow. The lovely Italian next to me started talking nervously.

“But iif my moother or my faather diid not like anysing in zee house, any of zem will change it. Zey boos respect each oozer and listen to each oozer. It iiz not always my maama. Zey may joke aboutiit but she does not have to change the decoration only because she iiz zee wooman,” she said.

One of the Egyptians replied that the woman would do it out of love and in order to please her Lord.

The American by my side whose face had already turned tomato red said “But why doesn’t he do the same and respect her choice and also attempt to please HIS Lord?”

“I guess it goes both ways. But woman tend to compromise more in general. We have an Egyptian proverb that says ‘A ship with two captains will sink’. So if the woman always wants to be equal to a man in a relationship, things will never work. There are major decisions in life and those need a man to make them,” the Egyptian mom replied.

At this point I knew how the rest of the conversation will go. I walked over the hostess to thank her and kiss her goodbye.

“Thank you so much for having me over. I will try to be here next time insha’allah. I just wanted to tell you that you made a grammar mistake while reciting one of the verses in Quran and you know this is not really accepted at all. You either know the verse well or you say the meaning. And the Prophetic tradition you mentioned is weak one actually. You also gave a bad example to everyone here calling your first husband and the father of your children an ‘idiot’ three times. This is in no Islamic. And actually I think your lectures will do harm to those young Egyptians. You’re consolidating what their moms have been teaching them: be submissive to your man so that Allah is pleased with you. At the same time, you are confirming what those foreigners think of Arab and Muslim women.”

I only said the first two sentence and left in disappointment and frustration.

No, I am not. I am still alive.

2008-06-27T12:43:00.000-07:00

"I hope this message brings you comfort and not grief. I just felt I wanted to talk to you.

To my family: You were my life. I always kept you in my soul, my eyes, and my heart. I tried hard to make you proud of me and hope I could do that somehow. I know I made you worried sometimes and I am sorry I did. Yet, I want you to know that I was always strong and managed to find away to hang in there. If I was to choose my family, I would have never chosen any other family. You always supported me, cared for me, and loved me. Nothing was warmer than going back to you on every hard days of my life. Nothing was better than your hug, dad, your prayers, mom, and your pure heart, brother. I wish I tried harder to make you happy. I still love you more than anything in the world.

To my cousins: I loved you and cared for you more than you thought I did. I forgive those of you who were hard on me sometimes and I hope you do the same.

To Marwa: You were the sister I always wanted for myself. Please be strong and do not get married to the first loser that comes your way. You deserve a real man. Please take anything you want from my stuff and give the rest to charity. If you still have the Euros I kept with you, give them all out to charity as well. I love you more than you know.

To Rania: I love you and do not remember anything except our happy days and our all night long chats.

To my Turkish friend and two American friends: I totally believe God sent you my way because He knew how much I needed you then. You are nothing but special and I know you will have nothing but the wonderful life that you deserve. I always found refuge in you and comfort in your words. Your pride in me was at times one of the very few good things about my life. I love you.

To those I once upset… Please forgive me for God only knows I never meant to. Anything I did or said was wither sincerely meant for your good or unmeant to hurt you.

To those who made me dearly cry: I did not forgive you at the time I wrote this because I knew there was not reason for you to make me sad and yet you never said sorry. I knew I was special but you did not. But I know I now forgive you. I just hope you do not make more people cry.

To President Mubarak, I do not forgive you for all what you did to me and my loved ones; Egyptian people.

To Egypt: I never hated you. I got angry with you sometimes, but was always happy to walk around you and talk to you.

To everyone else I know: I am grateful to have known you. You made me smile, think, wonder, learn, work, laugh, believe, give, love, and be strong.

I loved my life and always felt lucky and privileged. I did not hate anyone.

I am sorry if this message is sad. I think it would have been so even if it were all jokes.

I still have my smile."

Molokheya with whatever

2008-06-25T09:01:00.000-07:00

If you would like to learn how to make one delicious Egyptian dish, you can google 'molokheyya' and find the whole history of the dish as well as a list of recipes. If you want to try it, print a recipe out, buy a frozen pack of molokheya at a supermarket, and give it a try.

But if you would like to make REAL molokheya, listen to no one but me.

To serve four hungry people, you will need half a kilogram of molokheya leaves, a crushed half head of garlic, a lot of patience, stock of a happy chicken, ground coriander, things to think about for half an hour, strong lungs, three spoonfuls of margarine or butter, and some excitement.

OK, first wash the molokheya leaves well and spread them on newspaper sheets. Choose the pages carefully because they do affect the taste. You can also leave it to dry on a big towel. Tasteless, though, if not the towel of someone you love. Keep flipping the leaves over until they are dry. Everything else should be ready to start the fun part.

Use your kitchen counter top. Oh, I forgot to tell you, you need a special knife called 'makhrata'. Using the makhrata is a skill that you will be surprised by how fast you have developed. Take the leaves a handful at a time. Think of the things you would like to do in your life. Get them step by step. You cannot go fast now. Once the big molokheyya leaves have become medium sized ones, you may now go faster. Remember people you love, tell them things you were never able to say before. Tell them how much you love them and want to be there for them.

Keep moving the knife up and down, from side to side. You will automatically be put on a tedious soothing mode. Surprisingly enough, your hips will start moving with the pace of the knife. Do not stop, just keep working on it until you have managed to think over the problem that is on your mind now.

Molokheya is now less than quarter the size you started with. You will feel happy about the dark green color it has changed into. Boil the stock. Add the molokheyya little by little till it gets into the thickness you want. Too slimy is not good. Keep stirring and smiling. In a sauce pan, put butter, ground coriander, your sorrows, and crushed garlic. Stir till it all smells real good, and if you have flu, till it is all dark gold.

Ready?! Pour the fried garlic onto the molokheya and give the loudest gasp you can ever make, one that shows how strong your lungs are. Why? So that when your neighbors smell your food, they will get busy thinking what must have happened to cause the gasp rather than give your cooking an evil eye and your molokheya goes bad.

If you do not believe Egyptian women do this while cooking molokheya, you can ask one. Do not forget to ask them why they do not sing in the bathroom.

Back Back Then ...

2008-06-12T12:55:00.000-07:00

On a hot afternoon, they stood shoulder to shoulder at the window nothing separating them except forty three years of age. They probably had nothing in common except a pure heart. They were lowering a basket for the keeper of the opposite grocery to put the two chilled Seven-Up bottles my mom had ordered earlier.

I was helping in the kitchen and whenever I walked back into the apartment, I heard them talking non-stop. Once about cars, another about Jamal Abdel Nasser, healthy dieting and weightlifting, football, religion, and who knows what else they managed to find of common interest. I have always been amazed at how easy it is for my father to talk to people of all backgrounds, ages, and mentalities. I do still envy him.

I looked at my dad and my young cousin standing by him and discovered how old my dad’s back has grown. His salt and pepper hair never told me he was getting old. It is his back. It has gladly carried the burdens and responsibilities of supporting a house throughout the years.. and it still does.

It is the same back I knew in my early childhood. Every weekend, as we left my granny’s house, we used to walk to the bus station for ten minutes which felt like ten hours. My dad would give me a piggy back and talk to me all the way to the station. It was a lot of fun seeing the same people who once seemed huge change into creatures shorter than me.

It was even more fun in the sea. I climbed this same back and felt as happy as a free dolphin. This is how I first loved the sea and later learned how to swim, .. hmmm .. or rather not to drown.

It is the same back that used to keep me warm and secure on cold winter nights and carry my school bag on chilling mornings.

It is the same back that I used to walk on. After a long day of working two jobs, my dad would ask me to walk on his back. Although I used to feel a bit shy, I enjoyed the game and giggled at the feeling of my small feet walking on moving muscles.

It was once the back of a sixty eight kilogram student at the institute of physical education, a field hokey player, a boxer, a physiotherapy specialist, a piano and violin player, an army officer during Sadat’s time, and a teacher at a high school.

It is the same back that still helps him get up early in the morning to ask me if I will take lunch to work or needed a blouse to be ironed.

More than forty years ago, these two men standing at the window would have probably competed over girls in the family. They would have compared whose back is wider than the other. I looked at them and wondered how old I look and feel. As I walked back to the kitchen, I tried hard not to even glance at my mom’s back.

Shower gella

2008-06-08T09:51:00.000-07:00

It was seven in the evening and I would usually take a shower to change my mood. This time I decided to try something new: go to a cheap hairdresser's and have fun. Coiffeur Nancy for Ladies, the sign read. My brother once asked me why I go to those salons around our house and I was never able to tell him that the real reason was to sit and watch that style of Egyptian women talk and act. I usually say I am tired and do not want to drive in traffic all the way to my coiffeur. Well .. he is definitely right. Although he has never been inside one of them, he knew that at that sort of salons, you usually hear and sometimes see things you do not normally hear or see in your everyday life. Anyway.. I went to "OK, my heart" hairdresser's. That's how the owner addresses me. "What do you need today ya 'alby?", my heart. This, and other forms such as beauty, moon, honey, sugar, and sweetie, are the equivalent of miss or mademoiselle I usually hear elsewhere. So after being greeted by the owner, I walked into the female only section. I drew the curtain to see a strange creature attending to one of the poor customers who wanted to have her eyebrows trimmed. But the pain of unplucking was not the problem. Part of the problem was the hairdresser herself. I don't usually comment on people's appearance, but hers was really provoking.

She was tanned with hair dyed hazel brown with gold highlights, cut short and straightened. She was wearing tight jeans and a T-shirt that showed all details of her body and defined it into blocks unevenly distributed around her upper part. She was standing bare feet in the middle of dusty hair strands and curls they never sweep. Now you can picture how dirty her dark red nail polish looked on her toes.

The other and main part of the problem seemed more serious .. to me. As she was doing her job she was talking to the girl between her hands and laughing with her trying to 'win a customer'. In the middle of this, whenever she laughed she would put both her hands around the customer's neck. I thought to myself .. "Hmm! I'll be serious from the start and she would not dare touch me like that". She kept repeating this and with the loudest laugh she gave, she threw herself over the customer's chest. At this point, I jumped off my seat and started to leave. "Where are you going, beauty?" she asked. "The beauty is going to go run some errands and maybe come back later." I replied.

I left the salon with one regret of not having a hidden camera somewhere on me.

The second salon I went to made me regret not having a voice recorder. A camera would not have worked well there. You are first met and lastly bid farewell by a burning smell and intense smoke. You see no one but could only hear voices of all music notes talking at the same time in the four by six meter shop. There was one fan in the middle and it looked as dizzy as everyone else, which strengthens your belief that a gas bomb has just been thrown in.

I walked in carefully trying not to stumble into anything or anyone and finally saw a place to sit down and wait for my turn. I heard a voice asking me "What do you need 'ya asal'?", honey.

I sat at the far end of the room. I was sure that whoever walked in could not see me sitting there because I did not see them. Five minutes later I started to choke on the smell and was about to leave after advising them to open a whole in the wall rather that buy the air condition they were talking about. Suddenly, a lady walked in and I instantly recognized her voice. She lives in apartment 13 on number 29. I live in apartment 12, same building. Her children are my brother's age, married with children.

She happened to be a regular customer and everyone knew her. She seated herself by the door and started talking and everyone laughed non stop throwing comments back at her to keep her jokes going.

- I'd like to change my hair blond and have blue eyes.
Do you want blue lenzez? We don't have any. Plus didn't you have it dyed black two weeks ago?
- Some sisters told me that religion says black dye is forbidden.
To be honest, it's all wrong and change in the way God created you. So it's all forbidden.
- But doesn't religion ask us to take care of our husbands? I wanna spoil the guy.
Yes, that's because you don't know how to spoil him any other way.
- You know nothing, girl. He doesn't leave my arms.
Because he's stuck.
- No, because he can't resist me. He doesn't even leave home. He sits there to look at me.
Really? Good for him.
- And I don't let him go out that often. He looks like .. what's his name that movie star? .. Oh, Hussein Fahmy?
So your husband has straight blond, with blue eyes, and an Italian mother.
- No, his mother passed away so I can't lie about her. Do you want shower gella? I have very good brands.
My husband says it's a waste of money.
- Of course it's not. If you get him used to doing this, he'll never let you buy anything you like. And shower gella is very good and smells beautiful. My children once thought it was mango juice and drank it. Anyway, I have to get going or the man feels lonely.
Stay with us, woman. Give the poor guy a break from you.
- Well, you'd better take care of your own man and leave mine alone. It's not because I told you he was Hussein Fahmy you start roaming around him.
Shut up. My husband is THE man. Keep yours to yourself.

Everyone in the shop was laughing out loud at everything she said. I do not know if this was because they liked her, thought she was ridiculous, or knew that her husband had afro hair and a belly bigger than three watermelons put together.

Coptic or Muslim?

2008-06-04T05:13:00.000-07:00

For some reason, I met him four times in a row this week.

I usually see t him once or twice a month around seven in the morning. He usually carries both a school bag and his worries and urges one of his daughters to hurry up. He has been doing this for twenty years, and it’s a new daughter every couple of years.

This time I met him in the afternoon as I was coming home from work. He was wearing one of his gallabeyyas that, to me, have all always looked brown, oversized, and shorter that should be. His shoes made the sound I never failed to recognize whenever he walked up or down the stairs. They were getting too big, probably because he has walked in them for long or because his feet have grown thinner with age and fatigue. He has looked the same to me over the years, even while being supposedly dressed up for Christmas Mass. I don’t know which daughter he was talking to; I have lost track of his kids since the one my age got married. He had always managed to have the time, energy, and place to make children somewhere in the five by seven meter room up on the roof of my building. I believe that my mom is one reason for the overpopulation of Amm Marzou’s family since she talked the landlord into renting him an extra room.

It was a hot summer’s day in Cairo; one of these days when you’d prefer the cool floor of your building’s entrance to your own bed. As I walked in, I saw a shadow resting at the first stair landing.
“Go ahead, Amm Marzou’. You first” I said.
“No, my daughter. You go. I’ll take my time.”
“It’s ok. I’m not in a hurry.”
“May God bless your time, keep you safe, and grant you peace of mind.”
“Amen, Amm Marzou’. Amen!”

What else would I ask in life more than what he prayed for me?

His prayers have always been the most sincere, heart-felt wishes I receive. There has been no instance in my entire life when I met him without hearing him pray for me. There has been no instance in my entire life when I doubted that his prayers were not one reason why God kept me from being harmed. I listen to him utter the words and see them go straight to Heaven. There was not a time when I thought that the God he asks to protect me is not the same as my God.

Sometimes I think that the “Are you Coptic or Muslim?” question is as silly as it could possibly sound. I wonder at it because my grandma has peacefully lived in her house in a neighborhood called Deir El Malak – The Monastery of the Angel. The name has never sounded foreign to my ears. On the contrary, it has always brought images I see from granny’s roof; images of crosses and crescents standing proudly side by side. I go visit her and hear her talk of Rose, her Coptic neighbor who is her lifelong best friend. Granny would go on and on telling me stories of how Rose used to come and help her bake cookies for the Feast after Ramadan. She would tell me of the day when my dad had a fight with Rose’s son and how she scolded my dad saying “How dare you fight with your brother?”

She reminds me of my childhood friendship with Marriane who lives in apartment nine on the same floor as mine. We used to play cards and read together when we were young and study all night long as we grew older. She made the best omelets ever.

It all reminds me of the wrinkles filling Amm Marzou’s face, which never kept him from making his voice warmly smile at me.

Alicia and Caramel Sundae

2008-05-04T03:21:00.000-07:00

I was once doing an exercise with my students to practice comparatives and superlatives. A question on the list was "What do you think is the best invention ever?" TV, microscope, X-ray, telephone, even hair brushes were among the answers. I had never thought about it. Today, I realized that the best invention ever is the MP3 player.

I took a cab this afternoon to go downtown. I told the cabbie where to go and put on my earphones. I keep on fallin in love with you Sometimes I love ya Sometimes you make me blue I didn't hear him honking and swearing at his colleagues and their donkeys on the street. Wow, even the weather is great.

"Sometimes I feel good
At times I feel used
Loving you darling
Makes me so confused"

I left the cab at Tahrir square. I walked across the crazy streets - i.e. jaywalked, with more confidence than ever. I didn't even look in the eyes of motorists while crossing. This must be how people feel when they get stoned. And no, I didn't get killed. I don't believe I'll ever die of stupidity.

Alicia keys keeps singing to me, and me only.

"I keep on fallin in and out of love with you.
I never loved someone way that I loved you"

It's President Mubarak's birthday and there were rumors some people might go on a strike or demonstrate downtown. Abviously not because he's still alive, but because they might want to seize such a happy occasion to say that they had "enough" and would like to be able again to buy ten, instead of two, loaves of decent bread for one pound. Therefore, as usual, huge bullet-proof cars packed with national security soldiers were parked around the square and side streets.

"Oh,oh,oh I never felt this way
How do you give me so much pleasure
And cause me so much pain"

Since they weren't allowed to leave the cars, soldiers climbed over each other in order to catch a glance of the hot chicks coming in and out of the busy McDonald's on the corner.

I grabbed a Caramel Sundae Ice Cream. On my way out they said something I couldn't hear. I smiled at them.
Just when I think I've taken more than would a fool I start fallin back in love with you I keep on fallin in and out of love with you
Crossed the street. Okay, sorry. Alicia and I jaywalked across the street. Her voice and caramel taste just the same.

"I never loved someone way that I loved you(oh baby)
oh,oh,oh,oh,ooooh(yeahyeah)"

I walked in the library and everyone looked bright, smart and smiley. Alicia had stopped singing and an Arabic song played. People were still smiling and everything seemed perfect except the unbearable urge I had to start dancing on top of the circulation counter.

On my List

2008-04-14T03:20:00.000-07:00

Things I’ve been planning to start trying the possibility of the idea that I could one day be able to do are to

1- say no more often and wear high heels more often
2- get less angry with traffic in Cairo
3- try move my #$%^ and go to the gym
4- be less observant of the way Egyptian women behave and talk
5- do things rather than spending the time listing them
6- reverse without drawing a zigzag on the asphalt
7- listen longer to my aunt when she talks about her daughters
8- start drinking coffee for its taste rather than its smell
9- enjoy being a woman and quit wishing I were a guy
10- remember names more easily
11- stop wondering why men hassle girls on the streets of Cairo
12- put 30 liters of gas instead of 15 because I’ll add 15 more the day after anyway
13- stop writing a blog entry every time I’m swamped with work or study
14- pretend I didn’t hear someone judge people
15- buy myself flowers when I want to
16- either stop rocking when I daydream or start enjoying it
17- stop smelling clothes before putting them on
18- never smile when I lie and remember the lie later
19- stop pretending to be a camel and get thirsty sometimes
20- start realizing that I am actually Egyptian

Coach Nour of the Gym

2008-03-23T15:56:00.000-07:00

It’s past midnight on one of Cairo’s unbearably hot summer days. There is no hope of any breeze to shake the light chiffon curtains. Lights are off, door has been left ajar to allow the corridor light to sneak in, and the fan on the ceiling has decided to stop working so they turn their clothes into fans. The poor bed always lovingly accommodates at least four and at times seven girls. After a lot of pushing, pinching, and bullying, they usually manage to fit their different sizes and shapes of feminine bodies into a talkative, laughing jigsaw puzzle.

‘Which one of you pigs has forgotten to wash her feet?’ their eldest and the only Egyptian cousin among them said.
‘SARAAAH!!’ two others shout.
‘I swear to God I’ve already washed them,... twice,’ she says with an unseen smile. She decides to go wash them again after her big sister shoves her off the bed. ‘Okay, buffalo, I’m going,’ she mutters.

‘Hmm .. busy night for you Egyptians, no?’
‘Yeah, it’s Thursday night.’
‘What do you mean? Stop it.’
‘No , this is a fact that we all know.’
‘And who are ‘we’?’
‘We Arabs!’
‘Begad? And I’m not Arab? I’m Egyptian, silly! Am I speaking Chinese now?’
‘I mean people who are not Egyptians know this about Egyptians. We know that your men make love to their women only on Thursday nights.’

One Palestinian, two Jordanians and one Egyptian. All five young ladies crack laughing out loud and express their total agreement with the rumor/information.

‘But these things don’t go by schedule, you know,’ the Egyptian tries to defend.
‘That’s what we think, not you. We Palestinians…, hmm, you can ask about us the whole Arab population and you’ll learn about the reputation of our men.’
'No, it's us, Jordaninas.'
'Jordanians are Palestinians originally, so it's the same.'
‘Oh, how about Uncle Ali’s son, I think he’s not that ... ...’
‘Well, he’s good at other things, you know!’
‘No.. but I still have to admit that Captain Nour of the gym is an exceptional case. God, that guy is a lamppost not a man!’
A long ohhhooo and laughter shake the bed and a loud whistle goes off.
‘You’ll never know. He looks something, but still he’s an Egyptian.’

Sarah heard the noise and came running back from the bathroom. ‘What are you laughing at? What have I missed?’
‘It’s Captain Nour.’
She pretended to have faint and threw her tall body across the other four. ‘Oh, Nour, my love,’ she sighs.
‘But you know what? Although I don’t believe it’s true, I still think they have the right to do it only once a week.’
‘Are you crazy? What about their women?’
‘Do you know how long most of them work everyday? They leave home around 6.30 in the morning, they may or may not come back for lunch and a quick nap then leave for their second job and stay out until around 12 am. What do you think they will do when they get home? ’
‘Probably drop dead.’
‘Yeah, and you blame them for a Thursday only.’
‘Oh poor guys, it’s good then there’s a Thursday even.’
‘Nooo, but not all of them.’
‘Why do you care anyway?’
‘Of course I do… I’m planning to get Nour for myself.’
‘No, he’s mine.’ ‘No, mine!’ ‘No, he's mine. He likes me.’

And they start pillow fighting without even realizing that Captain Nour of the gym works a double shift on Thursdays.

...

2008-03-20T12:26:00.000-07:00

The best time to see your family is when you don’t want to see them. You receive an invitation on a short notice and you know you’d rather be home relaxing. Yet, you decide to go and be with them, for how often do you phone them, visit them or talk to them? You are positive you’ll regret it by the end of the day and that doesn’t dissuade you.

A winter apartment overlooking Lake Timsaah, Suez Canal, Fayed Town. It’s not summer yet but the temperature reaches 85. In front of you is an amazing view of the lake that you can’t wish to enjoy with 20 adults, 5 teenagers and 4 kids around. Not a single moment of silence.

Not a single moment of being left alone. They might possibly leave you alone if you just got a divorce or broke up and they thought you had a good reason to take a walk on your own. Other than that they just don’t see why on earth you would rather be sitting alone enjoying the peacefulness.

The only girl in the gathering and the closest to my age was an 18-year-old Mayda who came with her mom and fiancé. It was the first time to see her after the engagement and I was happy to say congratulations and give her a big warm hug. She’s a sweetheart. Oops, she’s not smiling and not sitting next to him. Hmm. “What’s up, Doodo? Where’s your man, girl?” I said teasingly. “No man, no shit. I don’t want to sit with him or talk to him,” she replied with a big smile brightening up her face and tears gleaming in her eyes.

Now I know how the rest of the day will go: men drinking tea, cracking pistachios, and talking politics… women gossiping, supervising work in the kitchen, and trying to get Doodo out of her misery! Tips on ‘the best way to treat your fiancé’ kept flying around the poor girl for over an hour. 'You silly, go sit next to him!' 'Girl, go ask the man if he wants tea or coffee!' 'Oh, do you want him to feel neglected and open up for another woman?' 'You, loser, there are no men around no more!'

“Do you want to go for a walk?” I suggested. She nodded and followed me.

Finally! ... A quiet wooden pergola with white benches all around. We sat next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, eyes fixed ahead. The lake lay tranquil in front of us. Nothing in the horizon but a couple of cargo ships moving as slow as snails. A little pedal boat stood silently not disturbing the water. It all felt like a scene of our lives has been paused on purpose.

... silence.

“Do you love him?” I asked her ... Silence.

“No.”

“Do you miss him sometimes?”

“No. He visits us everyday.” ... Silence.

“What’s the best thing you like about him?” No reply. “Ok. What do you talk about?”

“Nothing. He is always around and already knows what I’m doing. What shall I talk to him about? What made you suddenly decide to take off your veil?”

“I don’t know!” I replied with as astonishing speed ... Longer silence. “Listen. You're saying that your mom likes him. Ok then, let her marry him. You don’t love him, you don’t miss him, you don’t talk to him. Are you going to have kids with him using a remote control? Think carefully, girl. You’re still young.”

She smiles shyly and tells me what we both knew. Her mom is afraid there weren’t many men around these days and just wanted her to get married. At that moment I was glad I gave her my sincere advice. She started telling me an endless list of things he’d said and done. I listened to her with my eyes fixed on the three men in the pedal boat I could see through the rusty bars in front of us. I heard more than what she was saying. I heard her confused soul screaming for help. I heard her helpless heart calling for the right man to come and rescue her. I heard the mobile ring… they were telling us to come have lunch.

Left to right .. and right to left

2008-03-18T07:19:00.000-07:00

… and here is the e-mail of someone who had a crush on me (no, it’s not you!). He had the honor of scribbling it himself on one of those yellow pages. My name in Thai. Contact details of Education Reform Program in Egypt which I never contacted. Hamza Yusuf: Women, Sharia, and Islam (2 CD’s $ 14). monter.com. hotjobs.com. arce.org. Monday Dec. 3rd: “It’s your personality. If it were that important, it’d have been mentioned clearly in Quran. You believe in the whole thing, don’t pick and choose”. Say ‘British’ don’t say ‘English’. Gym hours 6-8 pm. Never been yet. "Say: O my Servants who have transgressed against their souls! Despair not of the Mercy of Allah. for Allah forgives all sins: for He is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.” (39:53). Straight, take first right, building to your right, 3rd floor, apartment 9. A whole lesson is unified by theme and context. X said: “This is the smartest thing you’ve ever done”. I think you're right. Peterson’t college search. Go back to this when you have time. Why aren't women allowed to wear perfume just like men? Why is it a sin to wear it in public? Abdool Karim Soroush. March 2, 08 first audition in my life. Liberating, took off my face and put on the character's. Hadith lessons at mosque (Wed after noon prayer). How can I ever attend? Khaled Aboul Fadl: “all jurists agreed that a Muslim man or woman should not marry a mushrik (disbeliever who associates partners with God). Is this the right definition. Dentist next Wednesday. I love the nurse. Prof. X: “you won’t find any answers. Follow your mind and conscience”. How do you ever know you are right? Sheikh Imam's songs and Ahmed Fouad Nijm's poetry. Oh World. Smile, please. “Let there be no compulsion in religion: Truth stands out clear from Error.” (2:256). You are bellissima. March schedule, fully booked. Why did I let him write his email himself? Oh , I forgot I am not good at saying 'No'. Kite Runner coming soon at the Nile Tower movie theater.

Before you decide to become an Egyptian girl

2008-03-12T15:51:00.000-07:00

If you are an Egyptian girl, I mean one of the ordinary majority, you can do whatever you want, anytime you want, wherever you want ... 'only' in your dreams :)This is one of the facts you should keep in mind if you are planning to become one. I don’t know how you can do that since receiving the honor of becoming an Egyptian citizen can’t happen even if you were born here, lived here all your life, gave all your fortune to Mubarak’s National Democratic Party, or prayed to God every single day.

Depending on your family, you, as an Egyptian girl, shouldn’t , may not or can’t do any of the following.

- Don’t talk on your mobile in the street. If you have to answer the phone, make sure to look serious, and don’t laugh for obvious reasons. (Not obvious?)

- Don’t smoke. Only your brother can. If you do, make sure it’s a female only trustworthy gathering where no one is going to report to your family. Don’t wear any wool because it'll keep the smell.

- Don’t have a boyfriend. If you have one, don’t tell your family unless you decide to marry. Needless to say that you can’t make or recieve a phone call when you are at home. Also, better not to receive too many text messages because it will sound suspicious. You’re brother, of course, can have a girl friend, go out with her, and talk to her on the house phone all night long. But this is none of your business. He's a man.

- Don’t have male friends. There’s not such a thing as a male-female platonic friendship.

- Don’t leave home with your hair wet!!

- Don’t tie your shoelaces in the middle of the street. You can do this only with your back to a wall. If you do it any other way, you may receive a touch, a hit or at least a dirty word. You’ll never know how tempting your behind may look when you bend over.

- Don’t try to fix anything that goes wrong with your car: 1) if you have a flat tire one morning, lose your job but never try to change it yourself as you’ll get your body into certain positions that passers-by would(n’t) like to watch, and 2) if for example you need to put water in the radiator, be sure to stand to the side and be conscious of your surroundings. What to do if you have either problem? Leave the car, go to a gas station, and get a guy to do it for you for the same reasons mentioned with the shoelaces.

- Don’t read on public transportation. It’s just not Egyptian. You’ll look stupid especially if you were glasses. And it doesn't even look sexy.

- Don’t argue with the taxi driver. Give him whatever he wants. And of course don’t sit in the passenger seat. Only back seat, please.

- Don’t walk into a lingerie shop if you are on your own. Better with one or two other females. On your own? Hmm … you’re too ‘bold’

- When you have guests or visiting someone, don’t sit next to a male. Sit next to a woman or a girl even if you know she’ll talk your ear off. Also sit with people you’re age as you’re not usually welcome into “big people’s” talk.

- When you get engaged, don't tell your fiance you ever had a boyfriend. Although he may not buy it, he'd rather think it's true than lose his sense of masculinity by getting engaged to a girl who has had a boyfriend before. It's not "and vice versa". His past is only his and can't be taken against him.

- If you are on the street and suddenly crave some ice-cream, don’t buy it in a cone. Go for a cup and a spoon if you're planning to eat it on the street!

- Don’t refuse offers of arranged marriages if you passed your mid-twenties. "You’ll regret it later," all wise family members say.

- Don’t stand at a corner if you’re waiting for someone. Find somewhere with lots of light and stand seriously without marching to and forth or you’ll have to deal with the many price offers you get.

- Don't run on the street for any reason, not even for sports. Maxmim is a fast-paced walk.

- If you have to phone a female friend from one of the many mobile shops around, try to you use a masculine pronoun talking to her. If you slip, at least don’t mention her name. The poor girl may suffer endless attempts of contact from the Ali of the kiosk you used.

- Don’t answer back if for any reason a guy on the street swears at you. You’ll never be able to match his unlimited list of vocabulary that you’ve never heard before. And you probably will end up screaming something like “Oh you dog! Donkey! Animal!” which, to him, are nothing but synonyms for his own name.

If you are an Egyptian girl, consider yourself lucky. You can still do many things that girls in Saudi Arabia can't even dream of.

A major realization

2008-03-01T02:44:00.000-08:00

I'd decided to write about my experience of taking off my headscarf as soon as I have something to share. I have a lot to tell you actually: people's reactions, my own reflection on the decision, what it means to me to feel the wind in my hair, new things I've learned about myself, new things I've grown (un)interested in over the past two weeks.

But … really … what I'd like to share with you are details I've recently noticed about a long hidden part of me ... My hair!
No matter how hard you try to make it do what you want, it would still act the way it wishes. Even if you take it to the hairdresser's and force it to look the way you think is nicer, having made you happy for a while, it'll soon go back to the way it is. It can't stay fake for long.
Although it looks similar to most Egyptians' hair, it's just not the same.
It gets easily damaged by sun, humidity and wind. It'll stay strong but may get tired of being strong and then you'll usually have to be patient and pay a lot to treat it.
It may not look friendly to you on the outside, but deep inside it is. It's also happy, content, and thankful for whatever it is.
My hair is actually much wilder than it seems to be, that's why, for social reasons, a hair band is usually tied around it.

This all may be less important than the actual veil-off experience itself. But actually these findings have helped me come to an important realization of the interesting similarities between me and my hair.

After several painful attempts of pointless forced change, I've discovered the only way that could work with both of them: it's to accept them and love them the way they are... for they just wouldn't change!

I can feel the sun, the wind, and more!

2008-02-15T13:27:00.001-08:00

White, blue, canary yellow, phosphoric green, red, orange, pink .. plain and patterned. I have scarves of almost all colors and materials. I loved them and I still do. They had always made me feel safe and some people thought they never kept me from looking ‘elegant.’ I had wrapped my scarf around my head every time I had left my apartment, opened the door, or gone out on the balcony. For four thousand one hundred and ninety five days of my life. It never bothered me or kept me from doing what I wanted. Even by the sea. I always kept it on and had my way of enjoying the water and the fresh air.

After six months of intensive reading about several issues in religion, I now have my own personal beliefs regarding many of them. Those beliefs are not the primary reason for my decision. When I honestly think about it, I know I only did this because of a growing feeling within me that what I have in my heart and mind doesn’t go any more with what I put on my head. My decision stemmed from a ‘growing discomfort.’ This is the simplest way I could put it.

I know I’m going against what almost every practicing Muslim believes to be an obligation just like the everyday five prayers. It’s the only visual distinction between us and non-Muslims. So by taking my veil off, I, as a Muslim female, threaten what the authoritarian religious masses are trying to do – resisting change imposed by the west and going back to fundamentalism because it’s the only solution. Feeling weak as a nation in chaos, the best thing to do is to cover up their women because they are the honor of family and society. To them, I am blemishing the image of purity and make men’s life more difficult because I represent temptation. I am that girl who, with the help of Satan, has been deluded by her own sick mind into taking off her veil. I will commit sins with every hair I have on my head every time a man sees it. On the Day of Judgment, I shall be dragged to Hellfire by this hair. This all explains why a colleague’s jaw dropped to the floor when she saw me unveiled and recited a verse in Quran used when disasters happen.

I also know that I’m putting myself and my family through painful social pressure. I live in a neighborhood with a Muslim majority; many of them are bearded, veiled or even face covered. We’ve lived here for over quarter a century and have always had the reputation of a ‘decent family.’ So how come my dad and brother let me do this? Yes, it’s their fault in the first place because they allowed me to travel alone, study a lot and work in too liberal environments. They should have tried to get me a husband earlier before I reached that stage. I’m in my late twenties and being the way I am, chances of getting suitors , religious suitors, are reduced.

In the middle of all this I hear “You’re our only daughter. We want you to be happy and we’re sometimes worried about you. Don’t listen to anyone. I’ll never allow anyone to talk about you or judge you. People should learn to mind their own business. One neighbor saw you this morning and I was on the balcony especially for that. She looked up to our balcony to see if we were there and I just gave her this yes-we-know look.” my mom said when I phoned to tell her how much I loved her and felt blessed to have her and my dad as my parents. I realize how hard they are trying to hide their worries. But I can just feel it there in their hugs. I hear it in their prayers. I sometimes wish I were a typical Egyptian daughter, just for them.

All this headache! I wish I could tell the whole world that it’s much simpler than it may seem to them, that I am not interested in being different, that I still love my religion. It’s just the way I am. This is ME.

Cairo, the veiled Bride of the Nile!

2008-02-05T11:29:00.000-08:00

A glittery headscarf, high-heels, a silk blouse, an embroidered shawl and mascara. I was wearing all this as I went from the B5 parking level, through the six G levels, and 40 more floors. I went out of the elevator and walked in a corridor dimly lit and romantically designed.

Chair tucked under me by a perfumed waiter. “Enjoy your evening!” he said softly intending not to disturb the first overwhelming moments. Overwhelming is the word.

Up in the revolving restaurant of the Grand Hayatt hotel, Cairo looked like a shy bride. She, too, was wearing a veil.

“I feel jealous, Cairo... for you look far more elegant.”
Her smile beamed at me as she welcomed me into her bright night.

“I now know how life can get too busy for family to talk. But I have many things to tell you. Do you realize how angry I am? I know I look so peaceful to you, but I do get quite angry sometimes!
I get angry when I know that the cost of these two hours up in this restaurant can feed two families for a whole month… when I know I’ll be spending more than 11% of my life in traffic (although I forget all this on a late night ride)… when I think about my 31-year-old brother who has a job and a house and can’t get married because he still needs $ 5000…when I look at a neighbor who has been engaged for four years because he can’t afford refurbishing and furnishing his apartment with the minimum… when I pass by the Ministry of Health and see people camped outside the building waiting for a merciful look. I even feel guilty for being healthy… when I watch a 40-second clip on u-tube of an officer torturing a suspect and wonder how much time it took him to get that heart of stone… when I feel guilty every time I drive by a crowded bus stop… when I remember how my mom has spent her life "prioritizing" and not buying herself a single thing she loved…and when I remember the pain of sitting on the floor in packed lecture rooms on hot summer’s days. I was always trying to listen to professors talking about Renaissance, literary criticism, Hamlet, George Orwell, Blake and many others who I don’t remember anything about now. I was busy trying to breathe.

One more thing I want to tell you. A secret I have to share with you. As cruel and crazy as you get sometimes, I failed to hate you. I did. I throw myself into the arms of your people on the streets when I'm tired.
I see you in the eyes of my mother when she says she’ll only leave you maybe when she’s dead. I still get tears in my eyes when I hear songs and poems written to you, or when I see a tired smile on the face of a poor man saying ‘alhamdulellah’. Thank God for everything. I let myself get lost in the scented alleys of your old streets and read million stories written on the tired walls of proud buildings.
Looking at you from up above, you look pretty… dressed up to the nines. And even prettier deep in your heart, behind your glittery veil.”

Om Somaya

2008-01-05T08:14:00.000-08:00

One of the few people who have witnessed all stages in my life is someone I hardly talk to. She always seats herself in a strategic position where she could observe everything around her - from footsteps to weddings and funerals. She sits, in a white plastic chair, wrapped in her black shawl during winter or holding a hot cup of tea with mint in summer evenings.

For eleven years she was there every morning I went to nursery or school. She was the one who received my university acceptance letter. She wished me a warm goodbye the few times I took my suitcase to the airport. She glanced at whatever bag I carried in an attempt to know where I came from. Whenever we received guests, family or friends who usually looked and dressed differently from what she is used to, she made a point of both welcoming them and wishing them goodbye on their way out.

“Reuters” is the title she's earned with no competition. She's one of those women for whom news feel too itchy to be kept untold. She waits for you to greet her to make a reply sealed with a mouth gesture that means “What a world!” in an attempt to make you ask her ‘What happened, Om Somaya?’ She will never waste this opportunity to tell you that a police car came in the middle of the night to mercilessly grab Sheikh Mahmoud from his wife’s arms as a suspected member of the Muslim Brotherhood group. Or about how the gallant residents of the nearby alley beat life out of three new tenants and dragged their prostitute out to the street with nothing on but a bed sheet. Or about the poor Om Mohamed whose husband turned out to be married to a second wife in Saudi Arabia where he worked for nine years.

I address her the same way I do my aunts “Good morning, tant” (auntie). “Good morning, sweetie” she would usually reply and add a couple of prayers depending on what she thought I needed then. “May Allah help you with your job”, “… bring you back safely”, “… rest your deceased’s soul in peace”. There is, yet, one prayer she hasn’t changed over the past year: “May Allah send you a good man.” She started saying this prayer the same day I graduated from university. It became more frequent from my mid twenties on. Now, approaching the end of my twenties, I am a ‘poor’ girl whose suitors are blind enough not to see her. For Om Somaya, a representative of the vast majority of the Egyptian female voice, a woman’s ultimate aim is to get married and have children. No other goal in life will make up for this one.

“The shadow of a man is better than that of a wall” is the proverb /slogan that explains why a lot of women feel pressured to get into a life they don’t want or tie themselves into a marriage despite clearly seeing how terrible life will be later. If she complains about her life she will be asked to have patience so that people, of Om Somaya’s type, don’t talk and gossip or so that God rewards her in the afterlife. A team of female brainwashers will quickly network using telephone calls. The team usually consists of the mother, sisters, cousins, neighbors, and married friends. All of them will discourage her from getting a divorce and tell her that it’s “the women who makes the relationship work”. If all attempts fail and she gets a divorce, her life will be a series of stories to be told in a blog titled ‘Be dead but not a divorcée’

Four days in Istanbul

2007-12-25T14:59:00.000-08:00

9.25 pm.

Sitting at a small table by the glass ceiling-high window, cozy café on Istiqlal St., Istanbul. Eating warm brownie and neglecting a strong cappuccino. Feeling so tired having walked for over nine hours. Glad I had recently started the habit of carrying my notebook around. I opened it, rested it on my waist and the blue pen started writing everything on my mind now.

-Arrived at Istanbul on a charter flight full of Egyptians. Amazing how they followed rules once they were outside their country.
-Bus to hotel: Istanbul by night brings me memories of parts of Kuwait and Dubai. It’s less crowded, cleaner, and more civilized than I expected. Fresh air.
-I loved the narrow steep streets. (They were good exercise)
-First morning there. Wooow .. I am in Europe.
-No one is staring at me in my curry yellow head scarf. Now I know how foreigners in Egypt must feel being scanned everywhere they go for simply being different-looking.
-I feel cold and lonely.
-Elegantly dressed people walked up and down the main shopping street.
-Things I have never seen on Cairo street: people kissing and hugging, a gay man in female dress and full makeup, people playing music and singing for money, a cute red street car I had always wanted to ride-and I did, a flag marking a gay club, Christmas lights everywhere.
-Galata Tower: climb in the elevator and view Istanbul by night… as if a sky full of colorful twinkling stars decided to come down and cover houses and streets.
-A cozy shop/cafe by the tower sells female accessories and clothes, has warm decoration, and is owned by an elegant lady in her mid-forties who makes good turkish tea. She speaks little English but can communicate perfectly well with her eyes and smile.
-For some unconscious reason I thought I’d understand Turkish and everyone would understand my Arabic. All attempts failed on both sides.
-All signs are in Turkish. Hmm .. now I need to use the bathroom. Shall I walk where it said ‘Bay’ or ‘Bayen’ ? The latter is safer. I was right.
Four more words: evet ‘yes’, giris ‘enter’, cikis‘ exit’, su ‘water’.
-Aya Sophia. It was great to see a wall painting of Virgin Mary carrying Jesus hanging above the word “Allah” written in gold Arabic calligraphy.
-The Blue Mosque. Must have been designed by a genius. I felt so peaceful inside it.
-Alcohol everywhere.
-People are the same wherever you are - they smiled, laughed, walked, loved and cried the same way.
-One big difference between cafés in Cairo and those of Istanbul: majority of customers in Cairo, as noted by a French friend, “are teenagers dressed and looked the same, walked around the café talking on their cell phones in English”
-Turkish music came out of bookstores and music stores. Filled the air with a special charm. I don’t remember any of the songs and can’t forget their effect.
-I need to change some money. ‘Please sir, LE 100’. He handed me 16.5 Turkish liras. I was too tired to think this was true. Took the Egyptian banknote back and handed him $50.
-A side street had a number of restaurant designed similarly. People sat there talking and having dinner. Three musicians carrying lute, violin and drum walked around table singing to diners. Lovely strong voices.
- Still have 4 hours before going to the airport. OK. Take the subway.
Excuse me. How long is the trip?
Two minutes.
No. I know there’s one every 2 minutes. (miming) How long is the trip?
Two minutes.
OK. Whatever.
I got on and sat by the window. After two minutes the car stopped and everyone got off. I looked at the driver. He figured from the look on my face there was a mistake, waved me sit-down and refused I paid any money. Glad the man who sat opposite me kept looking at my face while I was crying-it felt good that someone understood something was wrong.
-I passed by a woman selling bracelets on a dark side street. She started shouting as walked by her. I got scared and thought she might have wanted me to buy something. Didn’t even look back and walked to my hotel.
-Brownie tastes great.
-I wish I could sit with the six young Turkish people having coffee near my table now. I would love to make sense of whatever they are saying. I want to know you, people.
-Now I wonder how other European cities are like, how they looked especially around Christmas time. I wonder if I would be comfortable and happy living in one of them.

11.05 pm.

I sat on the bus heading towards the Airport. Not sure how the four days really felt. One thing I am sure of, though… for some reason I am not going to be the same after this trip.

U need a formal permission to volunteer

2007-11-13T08:05:00.000-08:00

After trying for 20 days to go on this visit, I finally managed to get myself off bed at 8 in the morning. I drove for about 15 minutes and found a parking behind the school. As I approached the front gate flashes of my childhood memories played in front of my eyes. I saw my mom holding my hand on the first day of school. I was wearing checked shirt and navy blue skirt. I hid behind my tiny blue glasses and, when this didn’t work, I tried to hide behind my mom. I remembered the xylophone and accordion I played every morning, the big bell I always wanted to ring but never got to, and the huge year six boy who once pushed me on the playground. I remembered my trembling voice every time I took part in the live school broadcast.
At the gate, there was a short slim man wearing a thick moustache that seemed to be what kept him balanced. He turned out to be a teacher although he would have passed for a doorkeeper. He showed me to the principal’s office and introduced me to him, to Mr. Esmat.

Me: I used to be a student here more than 20 years ago and I’d like to volunteer.
Mr. Esmat: Sorry, you’d like to what?
Me: I’d like to … volunteer.
Mr. Esmat: Ok. Please have a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.

The lobby was a three-ring circus: there were at least 5 parents, 10 secretaries and teachers, and 3 maids. In the middle of the principal’s messy office, there were three university interns sitting at a table copying down something, an office boy, a teacher using the telephone, and a secretary stamping documents.

Mr. Esmat: Ahlan wasahlan.
Me: Thank you.

I handed him a copy of my Arabic resume. After reading it carefully, he sat forward and listened to me talk about my plans for the school. He responded well and told me about the type of students I could be working with. Then we reached an expected point of the conversation.

Mr. Esmat: Look, miss. I’d love to have you here I’m sure we need your help. But you know that employing takes place via the ministry not me. And we hire part-timers the same way.
Me: Me. Esmat, I am here to VOLUNTEER. This means I don’t want any money. Not even for resources.
Mr. Esmat: Ok, there is only one thing that you might need to do.
Me: Anything.
Mr. Esmat: You need to go to the office of Heliopolis department of education, ask for Mr. Mohamed Abdel Hady. You need to get a security permission from him.
Me: Sure. Where is that? (“Here we go,” I said to myself)

He gave me the address and some directions. I took the car and headed to Abbaseyya Square, kept running around in circles of people, buses, cabs, cars, and fumes. I miraculously found an underground parking.
Mr. Abdel Hady’s office was a small room located on the second floor of the building. I walked in to see a man drinking his tea,... and two women, one reading the paper and the other on the phone.

Me: Good morning. I’m looking for Mr. Abdel Hady.
Woman 2: He’s not here yet. (it was 10:20 am)
Me: When is he expected to arrive?
Woman 2: (after scanning me) We don’t know. He never says.
Me: I mean do I need to wait for half an hour or two hours?
Woman 2: Either. We don’t know. What do you need him for?
Me: I need a security permission.

After I explained what I needed it for, the man put his cup of tea on his desk and sat up straight.
Man: Do you think you can just walk in and out of the school just like that? Anyway, we can’t issue that for you. Neither can Mr. Mohamed. You need to go to the main department of education on Abdou Basha square.

I drove around crazy packed side streets until I found it. I walked into the office that had a sign reading “Security.” There were three men talking loudly and enthusiastically about the previous evening’s Egyptian football match. The guy I was supposed to talk to was trying to make his point clear: it was the defense’s mistake. The other two totally disagreed. I stood there feeling invisible.

Me: By the way. You are absolutely right. It was the defense’s fault. I saw the match.
Man: Of course it was. Did you see when number 10 stood there doing nothing? Was he paralyzed?
Me: No, sir. It was because those players just care about the money they take and they have no real love of the game.
Man: You’re right. (he angrily banged the desk then smiled broadly) How can I help you?

I explained what I needed and he said that I had to go the Ministry of Education with a letter of request, a copy of my ID, and two photos. He also said that most probably it would get rejected as the security department always wants to avoid any reason for “headache.”

I smiled and didn’t comment. I left the office regretting two things: not using that morning for something better and not watching the football match I lied about... I wanted to know whose fault it was.

Follow Instinct

2007-11-10T04:08:00.000-08:00

Place: Egypt, Cairo. Maadi. A quiet apartment on the fourth floor.
A room with a desk. Huge library covering all four walls. Two walls have been added using a partition.

Time: Early Saturday morning

Who: Shiekh Yusuf El-Badry (Independent Islamic Scholar) + a friend doing her master's about Islam and female genital mutilation + "lucky" me doing interpretation.

Duration: Two hours of explaining and giving proof from Quraan and 'authentic!' hadith that female circumcision is allowed, and even recommended, in Islam and not haraam. He supports his views with scientific evidence.

Question from me: If you are that sure about what you're saying and other people are also sure that the opposite is true, who is a simple Muslim with a simple mind going to follow?
Sheikh: They follow what their fitrah tells them to do. (=follow their sound instinct)

insomnia unveiled

2007-11-09T03:36:00.000-08:00

How’s your vacation? Are you having a good time? This is of course what I receive from whoever knows I am on vacation for a ‘whole’ month. What they don’t really realize is that I wanted to go back to work 3 days after the vacation started. Since I am out of my usual routine, my mind decided to start and develop its own alternative routine. It started everyday with being insomniac, waking up late (of course), going out, returning home to work until after midnight and then be insomniac again. This time it was different… for a good reason you’ll know in a bit. It’s 7:13 am and I haven't had a wink of sleep. I am at my cousin’s. She’s fast asleep since 10.30 pm last night after complimenting me by talking for half an hour while dozing off. So I started my insomnia early. It was a couple of hours later that this conversation took place.

My condition: flu, sleepy/sleepless eyes, and a fired brain. We were discussing advice regarding graduate programs in the UK (I guess you already got tired of hearing about that)

ME • Thanx 4 the advice … be careful. It's 3 in the morning. U're becoming Egyptian.
HE - lol. I know. After opera, went for dinner, then the party and didn't see time fly... but you still have your evening ahead of you! (I had decided not to talk with anyone about it until Saturday. I couldn’t)
• I don't think I'll sleep b4 dawn
- Ya, that's what i mean
• Insomniac tonight as well (waiting for a ‘why?’)
- You're funny. Any particular reason or is it that you just prefer living at night? (Good/Bad he asked)
• I usually prefer.. but not when I have flu. I decided t discuss Hijab with family tomorrow… don't know where to start, and no idea what to expect.
- Oh, is that why you're delaying sleep?
• I just can't sleep
- Good luck
• keep having image of many people's reactions
- I'd like to be more helpful, but not sure what else to say
• U can't really. It's a hell of music I have to face. I think many people will be happy (donno y), and more will be angry … and some furious
- Do you think it would be more acceptable if, having lived abroad, you came back without it?
• I don't know … really don't know what to expect
- Well, taking it by steps, it's great you went through the process of questioning, whatever the conclusion is; and great too that you have the courage to bring it up with family. The next steps, to an extent, can take care of themselves
• OK 1- I have a conservative family (a bearded brother/a bearded father/a veiled mom)
2- They don't read about religion
3- I live in a Sunni neighborhood full of men wearing beards and women wearing niqaab
4- My extended family is all veiled except 1 (she’s considered a bit of an outcast)
5- My female cousins who are my best friends were raised in Saudi Arabia (!!!)
6- people at work will split … half of them (mainly Christians) will be happy assuming I'm leaving my religion, the other half (Muslims) will be equally angry for the same reason and I HAVE to DEAL with all that while focusing on my work.
(I didn’t know it was that serious, I could even think of 6 more)
- That's a lot
• Thanx 4 reading
- Sorry, it's an understatement
• Hmmm .. understatement. Ok. How comforting !
- Sorry
• By the way ,,, I put it simply
- I guessed
• Hmm .. "good luck " was a good response ,, u see?
- But if i may tease you a moment, this is one more reason why I have always said, however much I love women, and appreciate their company, I am definitely glad to be a man
• I really wish I were a man too. In a world like the one I live in!!! It's definitely a man's world. It's just not what the majority think which makes me wonder sometimes if I'm doing the right thing.
- But the right thing is usually contextual, and no objective standard exists really
• If I think what I am doing is the right thing (at least now) it is pushing me away form my surroundings and that's not an easy thing for someone who cherishes her family a lot.
- I realise, so perhaps the matter comes down to this: would you still wear the veil for social reasons? But I suspect, in part based on past conversations, that your questioning is not limited to the hijab. And therefore the underlying issue is whether you keep your conclusions private, turning your practice into a social behaviour, or whether you want to publicise them, in which case there will be a certain amount of work, discussion, comforting, education, or consensus building with those whom you love
• I'd go for the second option ..with as little publicising as possible, as much comforting as possible.

It's the soul that matters the most

2007-10-11T06:22:00.000-07:00

One of the worst nightmares you can ever have is having to take a cab from Mohandessin to downtown at around 2 p.m. in Ramadan. I got on a cab with the usual intention of:
- not talking to the driver and avoiding eye contact in the mirror
- giving him whatever he asks for
- not answering the phone unless it's a family member (& making it clear that the one on the phone is my brother and not my boyfriend)
- rejecting phone calls when I had to talk in English (not to be charged the double-no sunglasses for the same reason)

The driver kept cursing the car and for about 5 minutes he kept asking her why she stopped every time he hit the brake or the clutch. The traffic wouldn't move and, of course, he had to brake and the car stopped. He got off the cab and hid behind the hood for less than a minute.
He got into his seat and once he managed to start the engine, he changed into a different creature.

He was a bulky guy in his early thirties. I don't remember anything about his facial features other than they being big ,and getting bigger when he speaks louder.

Five minutes later I decided to have one good cab ride.

Driver - Finally it worked. I knew what to do, it's just my damn wife who is driving me crazy.
Me - Why? What did she do to you?
- We're having our apartment redecorated. The damn mentally disturbed painter she hired got paint all over the place although I had asked him to cover the furniture. He even got paint on shoes, mademoiselle!
- Ma'lesh. You'll forget all this when all is done.
- What can I do. When a woman wants something, her head becomes zay el gazma el 2adeema(an old pair of shoes = she's adamant)

We reached 6th of October and cars remained motionless as if they were part of a noisy photograph.

Me - What's all this heavy traffic ?
- It's up to the government to fix this.
- By the way, who are you going to vote for in the next elections.
- If he's still alive I won't go.
- Why not? Don't you want things to get better?
- Elections are nothing but a silly show. I'll tell you a joke
"A man decided to vote in the last elections. He voted 'No'. He later met his friends at the cafe and told them what he did. They told him off and insisted that he should go back and vote 'Yes' if he wanted to live safely any more. The scared guy went back to the voting center and asked to talk to the judge in charge.
I want to change my vote to 'Yes.' I am really sorry about that.
No problem. We knew that it was a mistake and we changed it for you. Don't ever do that again. OK?"

The driver laughed out loud and caused an 8 richter scale earthquake. He kept talking about many other things and of course he took the conversation into What do you do? Where are you from? etc.

We were a couple of minutes away from Tahrir square. By that time I was already calling him by his first name (a thing that I'm sure he appreciated)

- You know, Miss. Beauty isn't everything (= you're not pretty) It's the soul of a person that attracts you. You have a beautiful soul that makes people feel comfortable talking to you.
- Thanks for the compliment.
- It's not a compliment. My wife, for example, is sooo pretty. But ... she's choking me.
- C'mon. I'm sure you love her.
- If I got you your own apartment on Faisal street, would you accept to marry me?
- Really? That would be convenient. I'll of course own it after your wife has killed you on our wedding day.
- (laughing) Wallahi. I'm serious!
- No, ya sidi thanks. I'm fine like this.
- Insha'llah you'll meet a good man 'coz you're really a good human being.
- (Leaving the cab)Thank you, Mohamed. Say hi to your wife :)

Leffi keda!!

2007-10-10T02:15:00.000-07:00

• Where are you off to?
- Having iftar with colleagues. Do you think this blouse goes well with these pants?
• Yes, they do? Leffi keda! (turn around)
She smiles & makes a full turn of the kind made by a young girl wearing a new dress for the first time.
• Don’t you think that the pants are too tight?
- Well, I think they’re fine.
• Hmmm, but they make you look (--------)
- No, they don’t. There’s nothing wrong with them.
• I’m a man and I know what I’m talking about. Beige linen pants are not always a good idea ;)
Smile is still there. She goes to her room and changes.
- What do you think now?
• Black is better.
- Ok then. Mashy. What about this scarf?
• You know what? The problem is not the pants. It’s the silk blouse.
- Oh, c’mon. (smile is fading away)
• Really! Believe me it’s too attention attracting (literal translation from Arabic) plus it’s short.
- Apparently you don’t see what girls wear these days. What I’m wearing now is nothing but modest. (putting on her veil and avoiding eye-contact while getting ready to leave)
• I don’t care about who wears worse.
- But I really want to wear this outfit today. (smile is back to avoid a fuss)
She grabs car keys and opens the door.
- ‘Salam!’
• Yes, a quick salam is better. (winks ;)

Top 10 lies an Egyptian woman tells her man

2007-09-21T05:17:00.000-07:00

1- Do you know who phoned me yesterday? My ex-boyfriend/husband/fiance.
2- Oh, come on! I don't care about presents at all. You're my real present!
3- Your salary is fine. I would live with you no matter what.
4- You're the first one ever to touch my hand!!
5- Please don't say so about yourself. You are 170 kg and you still look great. I love you the way you are.
6- Your mom is just like my mom to me.
7- You were great tonight.
8- I was with my mom at the doctor's.
9- A rich engineer working in the Gulf is coming to propose on Thursday.
10- You know? Last year I was only 50 kg.

Egyptian Scanner!

2007-09-16T16:35:00.000-07:00

A new group. First meeting. You walk into a café in Zamalik and before you know you are inside the quickest scanner you’ve ever seen.
Check list.
1- Are you good looking and sexy? If not very …
2- Your clothes can compensate. How big is Adidas printed on your T-shirt/shoes/bag? Not any…
3- Hmm, you’d better make a noise with your key chain or complain about how hard it is to find parking around Zamalik. No car… ? Avoid transportation topic because you might have to say you took the subway or even worse a micro bus.
5- In case key chain is unavailable, then it’s time for your cell phone to do something about it. If it cost you less than $ 500, better keep it in your pocket.
6- Your next option is your language(s). Use English to show off, especially a good accent. French is to make it clear that your family is well-educated and rich. You don’t speak any!
7- Arabic is okay if you negate with ‘mish’ instead of ‘ma + -sh’ .
E.g.: “mish bashrab shisha” instead of “mabashrabsh shisha” (I don’t smoke shisha)
Caution: If you are a guy, don’t overdo it, unless you mean it!!
8- DO NOT walk in with a book in your hand, or talk about politics, religion, or literature. You’ll be seen as complicated poor bookworm (not mistaken here for ‘sophisticated’). Degrees are OK as long as they are either international or from the American University (AUC)
9- None of the above. Don’t give up, especially if you like one in the group. Where you live is one of the most effective strategies. I should have mentioned it earlier, actually. Don't throw it into the chat unless you live by the Nile, in Mohandessin, Zamalik, Garden City, Heliopolis, Dokki/Agouza (a good part) , Maadi (preferably old Maadi or Degla), certain new areas in the outskirts of Cairo, Nasr City (esp. if by a big mall). Any place not mentioned here… Sorry … your sitting with the wrong people and soon you’ll be kicked out.
10- Wait. There’s hope? Any of your parents not Egyptian? Good for you! Say a word in their dialect, people ask you, your fine!

If any of these don't happen, you are sitting with foreigners. Last week I found out that a non-Egyptian friend, who I had known for two months, had a PhD in nuclear physics. He was not the one who told me and doesn’t even know that I have this piece of info about him. My non-Egyptian best friend had become my best friend before I knew he could fly airplanes, speak 4 languages (maybe more!!), and visited at least 15 countries. I would have known all this Day 1 if he were an Egyptian!!

Salman Rushdie

2007-09-01T04:42:00.000-07:00

After two weeks of trying to arrange for this meeting, he could finally come and talk to me. I had just arrived home after a long day at work but couldn't have rejected the chance. He is considered 'by my brother' to be a knowledgeable open-minded scholar (sheikh) who would be able to answer all my questions!

He sat on the balcony with my brother, shutters closed. I sat on a chair behind the shutters where we could hear but not see each other.

He talked to me in a warm confident voice that patiently welcomed my questions.
Chose to you this part of the meeting:

1- My first question Sheikh is very simple: If a man and a woman commit fornication, the ruling in Shari'a is the same for both.
-That's right. (he recites verse 24:2 which means that both the sinning man and woman receive the same punishment.)

Are they equally forgiven insha'allah if they repent?
- Of course. (and he recites the beautiful verse 39:53)

Does the man have to tell his future wife about his past relationships?
- NO. Why would he reveal a sin that Allah has covered for him? Doesn't make sense?

Does the woman have to tell her future husband about her past relationship?
- (pauses) YES.

Haven't they both repented? What is the difference?
- She has to tell him. If she hides this surgically it'll be considered deceit.

But 'why would he reveal a sin that Allah has covered for him? Doesn't make sense?'
- She has to pay for what she did and know that she also might have to give up some of her dowry or so.

Sheikh, you know how big a nightmare this can be for a woman in a Middle Eastern society? and religion actually asks her to forget and says that it's not the right of the future husband to know anything the woman doesn't want to reveal?
- (getting a bit frustrated) She has to submit to the fact that she is physically and anatomically different from a man and this is her fate.

Frustrated myself, I decided to move on to the next question.

2- My second question Sheikh is regarding the death penalty for people like Salman Rushdie. Why is his life sought for writing a piece of fiction?

(Sheikh's words are his and not Islam's.)