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

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!!

Dancing dubka

What the RLAP office does on days off =)

This Saturday afternoon found the majority of the Resettlement Legal Aid staff chowing down on delicious Iraqi cuisine and learning dubka dancing in one of our translator’s living rooms.

A couple weeks ago I posted a video of some Iraqi friends dancing dubka in a park. Apparently it’s a competitive form of entertainment across the Middle East.

Maher

“…this kinda looks like Palestinian dabke “Palestinian traditional dancing” that i told u about in Abu Dhabi, thou Palestinian dabke looks a bit better.

July 6 at 8:05pm

Sulaiman

LOL it was fun!!!!

July 7 at 2:21pm ·

Mustafa

no iraqi dabka is better your are wrong
and this video is simple of dancing to learn lily but it is so complex if you can do it best

July 7 at 5:06pm · Delete

Maher: Well I’m sure that you know about Palestinian dabka just as much as I know about Iraqi dabka which is nell. I’m sure Iraqi dabka is much better than this and I’m sure that if i tried to do a palestinian dabka it would look worst than this. BTW modern Palestinian dabke is combined with contemprary dancing and figurative dancing which are combined to tell a story “mostly about the palestinian struggle or sometimes about Palestinian traditional stories”. so maybe you can tell me more about Iraqi dabka.
Ps; never let lily video u guys again

July 8 at 2:37am · Delete

PS–Since some of these people are refugees, I removed last names to respect privacy.

Girl talk

A couple days a go a few of us interviewed young women affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood for stories we are writing. One of the young woman Sondos, invited us out for dinner, along with her sister, Marwa. 

They showed us unbelievable kindness and welcome, put up with endless questions (this was not supposed to be an interview!) showed us how to tied headscarves and encouraged a photo shoot. To be fair, they asked their fair share of questions in return. These are the types of friendships which truly lead to cultural understanding. Marwa puts the hijab (headscarf on Rachel). Headscarves are a sign of modesty. They are also a huge part of the culture. Most Muslim women in Egypt where them out of choice. At least here, it’s as much a fashion statement as a profession of religiosity. 

Thanks Marwa and Sondos! I look forward to seeing you when I return to Egypt.