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

That dream where you speak and no one understands

Have you ever had a dream where you standing in front of a room of people talking and no one can understand you?
I have not, but now I can semi-relate to those who have.
Yesterday I introduced myself in Arabic with a microphone to some 100 Fulbright students, professors and organizers.

The students are all going to the United States as Arabic teacher’s assistants. After most will return to the Middle East to teach English. This was the last day of their crash course in teaching Arabic. 3 other Americans and I were the hands on experience.

I arrived a few minutes early and stood in the back while the organizer of the program talked to them about tea.
When Americans go the the United Arab Emirates they are confused when people serve them tea, he said. In the United States everyone gets their own.
In Italy everyone gets to work and then go to a tea bar and drink tea together. It’s part of the culture.
Talk to the Americans about that, he helpfully advised. They’ll be interested.
Hmmm…..

After he finished talking, me and my fellow guinea pigs took front and center.
I always wonder which language people who speak multiple think in. If they form sentences and adeptly translate.
I do not speak much Arabic but for what I’m comfortable with the words come out naturally.

After the initial introductions we were dispersed to the crowds. Come here, come here.
I chose a table full of eager looking young woman.
I’m going to Northeastern, one of the woman told me. She’ll be working with my Arabic teacher from last semester, Shakir Mustafa.
Another is going to Boston University.
They’re both living in Roxbury and had heard it was sketchy.

We–me and around 30 Arab students–talked for around an hour.
By talking I mean they spouted questions at me in Arabic which I tried to answer in Arabic.
A lot were about teaching methods and what my Arabic classes were like.
They asked me what I thought about Egypt and why I came, cultural differences and specific information about the their destinations.
The point was to communicate completely in Arabic.
A lot was lost in translation.

After the formal session was over, they all swarmed us with cameras, asking for pictures and emails.

People usually stare at foreigners here. What’s your name, I would ask, before taking pictures? Where are you from? Where in the United States are you going?

One guy handed me an apple with my name carved in it in English and Arabic.

I wonder if they will have the same enthusiasm toward Americans after trying to teach them to pronounce Arabic letters for 8 months.

Back at my work our crazy-busy, people-packed office felt relatively peaceful.
I bit into my ridiculous-looking red delicious. Yumm…

Thanks Fulbright students. It was fun.