Anti mobsuta?

We hopped off the bus, shaking away the 10 hour ride and the rush of our work in Cairo. We blinked our eyes as at the bright blue sky, sparkling sea,  and desert, which stretched into mountains and dunes everywhere the sea was not.

Two days earlier, when I mentioned to Susannah, a coworker at St. Andrews, that Dahab–a popular Sinai destination–was more touristy than I imagined, she invited me to come to her favorite camp along the Red Sea. It’s quiet and peaceful, she promised. I  already talked to the owner, Hani, and reserved two huts.

Eid, the feast and celebration, which follows Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting, is a common time to break from work, reflect and often travel.

Now somewhere between Taba and Nuweiba, a mere 17 kilometers from Saudi Arabia, we walk along an empty desert road, looking for old tires marking the entrance to Hani’s Moonlight Camp. The occasional passing car seems dually jarring and foolishly trivial in the context of the desert.

Steph, our legal director at RLAP and Aos, a surgeon in Iraq, current RLAP’s psychosocial expert, filled the other two spots. I didn’t expect it to be like this, said Stephanie.

What did you expect? I asked.

I don’t know, but I’ve never seen a sea with no trees at all. Nothing but desert.

Aos, a former surgeon in Iraq and the head of our psychosocial department, smiled broadly. A veteran of the tourist haven Sharm-El Sheik, peace accompanied with the perfect aqua sea was new to him.

Moonlight camp, as promised, greeted us with tires by the road and a fading sign. Bags tossed aside, sitting under the reed roof of the common area, sipping welcome tea and eating breakfast, Hani, the owner, came to greet us. After breakfast we swam and fell asleep on the beach.

The meaning of time, the rush of the city and the urgency of our lives slowed. We were here. The time was solely ours. We had nowhere else to go, no internet was in reach, my cell phone rang-unanswered in m sandy straw hut.

We spent our days swimming, sleeping, eating, reading, studying Arabic, playing tawla/backgammon (Steph and Aos) and talking with each other, other guests and Hani.

There were about 20 other guests at the camp, ranging from Germans, Palestinians and Israelis. Sometime late in the afternoon Hani tracked us down and asked us what we wanted him to cook for our dinner.  The last two night everyone at the camp ate together, sitting on the floor at low tables.  Both nights the dish of choice was makhluba. A delicious array of rice, chicken spices and vegetables.

After dinner we relaxed around a fire on the beach. We drank sweet tea, told stories, asked questions and gnawed on hard figs, Hani swore were from Iraq.I fell asleep under the stars. The stars were prolific and more brilliant than I’ve seen since visiting Siwa, an oasis near Libya, last year.

Anti mobsuta? (Are you happy?) Hani would ask us, coming to chime in our discussion or join in a game of tawla.

Friends. A peaceful beach. A book and Arabic flash-cards. Food and a place to sleep. I was glad I forgot my iPod.

Ana mobsuta, ehna mubsuteen (I am happy, we are happy).

Simple, meaningful, often brushed over by the things we expect ourselves to want, busy schedules and commitments.

Antu mobsuteen? What will make you happy?

Our huts at 5:30 a.m.

I spent a lot of time staring at Saudi, contemplating how far 17 kilometers means. As an American I'm free to travel to most countries if I have the time and money. Saudi Arabia is one of the few places I wonder if I'll ever be permitted to enter.

Finally studying Arabic (picture by Stephanie)

Susannah and Stephanie meet Hani and Suleymon along the beach

Appreciating the “gift of the Nile”

Though true to the hype, Egypt is mostly desert–only 3 percent of land is arable–when you open your eyes to it, Cairo has a pretty hopping fruit and veggie scene going back to ancient times.

“Egypt is the gift of the Nile,” is a phrase you might remember from history class, a tour book or even thrown in conversation. Historically, agriculture was Egypt’s greatest economic commodity. In 2000 agriculture accounted for approximately 11 percent of Egypt’s GDP and over 1/3 of the population was employed in agriculture.

The majority of produce is grown in the Delta, an area north of Cairo bordering the Mediterranean Sea. The rest is grown along the Nile, between Cairo and Aswan, just south of the High Dam, which controls the once annual Nile floods and ensures reliable water distribution throughout the year.

Living here temporarily, eating at cafes, restaurants and street vendors, it’s easy to believe the country is largely devoid of all produce except oil drenched eggplants, taamiya (falafel but with fava beans)  salad and plentiful fresh juices.  Adding to the desert theme, population locations i.e. the pyramids, temples, ruins, desert oases and beaches on the north coast and in Sinai are naturally sand-prone

Since settling down in an apartment with a kitchen and spending more time with Egyptians and Iraqis who cook, I have discovered an inspiring world of fruits and veggies throughout the megalopolis.

A market behind Sayidda Zeinab mosque and one surrounding the Saad Zagloul metro stop, both within a five minute walk of my flat, are where I usually shop.

I never had a fresh fig until a couple months ago a coworker bought a bag while taking a walk from work. Sweet, with a unique texture, they have quickly become one of my favorite fruits. 

Guavas are another I never had fresh until living here. Though I drank the juice previously, I had pictured Guavas as papayas and thought the guavas on the streets were pares. When Syonara served me a plate of sliced guavas I learned they were something entirely different. Now I cannot quite imagine my life, let alone breakfasts, without them.

Guavas across the street from work (Resettlement Legal Aid Project)

I first spied a couple lonely pomegranates at a small fruit stand across my street about a month ago. Being one of my all-time favorites, and an apparent anomaly in Egypt, I snatched them up. Though completely unripe, they were a promise of what has come. Since, sweet, juicy, pink pomegranates have matriculated to many fruits stands, living up to pomegranate lovers desires and costing around $1 USD a kilo.

Dried dates are relatively common in my corner of the world, fresh dates however are a novelty. Jess, coworkers and I went on a horse riding adventure over an hour outside Cairo. We drove past the Giza pyramids, through the fertile land upward along the Nile (South because the Nile flows S to N) to an area between the Saqqara and Dashur pyramids. Our guide, Mahmoud, led us through a date grove to his house and horse stable. After a fabulous sunset-horse ride and dinner at Mahmoud’s house, he treated us to some dates from the overhanging trees.

Date trees south of Cairo

Though I haven’t found dates as good as Mahmoud’s to date, I’ve been entranced by the many varieties. The traditional way to break fast for Ramadan, dates –dried, fresh, unripe, overripe, yellow, red and purple are profuse.

These dates are hard and need a couple days to ripen. I like them best before they’re completely ripe–which means buying them like this.

The other day I dashed home from work at 2:00 p.m. to grab a forgotten computer cord.  I was shocked to see my neighborhood market more bustling than ever. Not only was it the hottest part of the day, but most Egyptians are fasting for Ramadan. The hours shift  slightly each day with the sunrise and set–no food, water, cigarettes, sex etc, from approximately 4:00 a.m. to 6:30 p.m.

It seems shopping for food might be one way the fasters distract themselves until the moment of consumption.

Buying pears--they're separated by quality and priced accordingly

Choice of words

I have a lot to say about my work in Egypt, the Iraqi refugees and other I work with and the status and image of refugees more broadly.  To begin, here is what I wrote for the Globe .

Though I was originally going to write this about a month ago, I postponed because I was concerned anything I wrote would be petty, not giving people an accurate idea of who these people are or what they have gone through, what they face or what they mean to me.

Also complicating things, is my role as a coworker, professional confident and employee. Though only a first person-blog entry,  (as opposed to a reported news article) the lines between journalist and advocate, subjective and objective have become tangled and hazy. Though it’s might be possible to accept what is without overanalyzing all the whys and hows, I prefer making things complicated.

So, more to come…later. I have an appeal and training material to prepare. (The main reason I’ve neglected blogging recently.)

Cairo, meet my Boston.

There’s nothing like a best friend from across the world  to connect personal realities in different which often feel utterly disconnected and non-cohesive.

While the idea that I have different “lives” across the world is something I resist, It’s true that it’s often hard to forge connections between lifestyles, friends, scenery and activities, which are vastly different. Life as a novella, sometimes seems more fitting.

Showing Jess my street, apartment, favorite juice stands and Sudanese restaurants, (where I can never order quite what I want) Boston, the choices I made to be here and the continuity of my life and identity felt more tangible.

Seeing Jess  accept the anomalies of Cairo, hang out in my office and flat, and laugh and argue with my friends, my world felt smaller.

‘We enlisted Mufas for the Islamic Cairo tour, being the expert he is.

Goofing around and singing on the bus to Alexandria

We learned an important lesson in Alex.

Being a tourist during Ramadan is rough.

After catching a bus arriving and enjoying a delicious fish lunch, we set off for the two “touristy” destinations Jess was interested in. The first, Fort Qaitbey, is a citadel built in the 1480s and revamped by Mohammed Ali. According to my guidebook it’s the site of a lighthouse, which was one of the ancient wonders of the world, but was reduced to rubble by earthquakes in 1303.

Remembering the views of the city, fishermen, vivid green algae and salty fresh breeze, I was eager to return too. Upon arrival we learned it had abbreviated hours and we couldn’t enter.

Off to our next destination, Alex’s famous $355 million library, we hoped the guidebook’s 7 p.m. closing time would not disappoint. Hopping out of the cab, unlit windows and closed doors greeted us.

Though our day of being touristy turned into mostly coffee and conversation, it was one of the best. Unlike back in Cairo, where I feel at home, in Alex we were genuinely  traveling and exploring together.

Come back to Cairo.

I miss you Jess!!