Culture

Arusha

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In Arusha the truck parked for an hour outside an internet cafe so we all climbed down the five-step vertical ladder to a hundred outstretched hands.

Saw a westerner (Brit) sitting by himself at a sidewalk table so I joined him. He had been in the country eight years trying to make a go of a business but had given up and was going back to the UK. He said you can’t make it if you are honest….hands out all over Africa, he said, all the way from the little kid in the street to the top.

Remembered a taxi driver in Nairobi: “80% of the businesses are owned by the Indian minority and they are very very rich,” he spat! I told him what the taxi driver had said and he said, oh, that’s the way it is all over Africa. Fills an economic need for the country but the Africans never get an opportunity to learn the skills they need for self-sufficiency.

Search For Truth In Egypt

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Cafes and Food
You can have what Bob calls “mystery meat,” which in Egypt is called kebab-lamb or chicken sliced from a vertical spit-very good in pita bread. Kofta is ground meat peppered with spices, skewered and grilled. You can find delicious spit roasted chicken. Tagen is a stew cooked in a deep clay pot with onions, tomatoes and rice or cracked wheat. Stuffed cabbage leaves are called mahshi karumb. Fried fish is great. Kushari is tiny noodles, tomato juice, lemon and onions looking somewhat like a soup.

We were welcomed into one empty cafe and graciously given the best seat upstairs near a window where we could look out on the street while eating kushari, a “traditional Egyptian dish” as the proprietor called it. He gives us an idea that if we could get away from the sellers that the Egyptian people would be wonderfully hospitable and gracious. We were touched.

In certain cafes men sit, play backgammon and smoke sheesha pipes.

Luxor
No knobs on anything in the hotel. Had to lift the toilet lid to figure out how to flush and while leaning over the toilet tank the fan blades from the fan above fell off and konked me on the head before bounding into the tub. Lonely Planet uses Budget, Mid Range and Top End for classifying hotels and this was a MidRange which I think is a pretty good gauge of the local economy. Takes money they don’t have to clean and repair.

Ongoing Search for Truth
When I was in college, ironically, a book by the great theologian Martin Buber called “I and Thou” gave me my first understanding about bridging the gap between the “I” and the different “thou.”

More recently cross cultural writers have been writing about the concept of “the stranger” describing our fear of the “different” as a genetically built-in survival response mechanism that is a healthy one when used to keep ourselves safe, but if we are not aware of our subtle responses on this level and let it operate when it is inappropriate then we can be very damaging to each other. Ahdaf Soueif writes in English and the theme of her autobiographical novel “In The Eye Of The Sun” is the notion of foreignness. Her latest novel “The Map of Love” was shortlisted for UK’s Booker prize.

Thinking about all this reminds me of an experience I had years ago when managing a student foreign exchange program. I gave a party for all the exchange students in my home and wanted to include some older students to provide perspective so I went to a local private University and was referred to three foreign students who happened to be from Saudi Arabia. While inter-viewing them I was told by one that our culture and our values were “ugly” to the Muslim “as if you took a lid off a garbage can and looked in!” The way he said it made me shiver. I didn’t invite two of them to the party even after they complained that American were not friendly and that as students here for the last two years they had never been invited into anyone’s home. If not to the party, I should have invited them to my home. The third did come to the party, cooked a fantastic chicken dinner for the students and is my friend in Salem still.

A Felluca Ride Up The Nile

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In Aswan, a felluca, an ancient sailboat of the Nile, is a common means of transport up and down the Nile River. It has a broad canvas sail and the boat itself has a shallow deck upon which are thick cotton covered pads to sit on and watch the dark waters of the Nile slide by in the hot dry desert wind during the day and to sleep on at night. Two gracious Nubian men in flowing jalabayas sailed the boat-one at each end-and cooked for us in a tiny area on a small propane stove.

The first afternoon, the wind became too strong and tangled the sails. Was amazing to see one small, lithe Nubian scoot up the mast to untangle the sail.

Before leaving Aswan, we sailed to nearby Kitchener Island where about 12 Nubian young girls-secondary school students studying to be teachers- surrounded us laughing and talking and asking questions-practicing their English. I love your sweet soft faces I said…oh thank you very much they said laughing. Then “I love you,” one said, probably coming from a lack of vocabulary to be able to say anything else.

A couple years ago I saw a contemporary rendition of the opera “Aida” in which a Nubian princess was captured by the Egyptian army. The music was composed by Elton John and the historical revision sympathetically illustrated the plight of the Nubians. After their lands were submerged under water when the High Dam was built, most Nubians today occupy the lowest paying jobs.

We sailed the Nile with six other people for an incredibly beautiful and langorous two day trip to Edfu. We were joined by a young couple from Milan Italy, another young couple from Paris and two friends-one from the Czeck Republic and the other from Slovakia. The two from Czech and Slovakia had just spent a year and a half in Israel as nannies and were relieved to be out of the country…not because of the danger from the Palestinians but because they didn’t care for the Israelis.

English has truly become the international language. Everyone on the felluca was fluent-the French girl saying that her generation was quite happy with English but that her parents and older sister still resented it.

The first evening over dinner we traded information and honest understandings about the foreign policies of our respective countries. The French girl described her insights into the story of “Chocolat” and the French guy talked about the 35 hour work week and how it has not created more jobs-just means that more work is now done in less time.

The Italian and French couples had a lot in common and were planning to meet again the night we got off the felluca-and I imagine they will remain friends-a wonderful thing that could not have happened a generation ago-the upside of globalism and a common language.

Driving & Cueing in Egypt

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Drivers have immense patience with each other-each car gives way to the others like a million fish in a school swimming this way and that…narrowly missing one another but gracefully swerving away in time…implicit cooperation you would never see in the States.

No one would steal anything from you, the tour operator says, except for the occasional pickpocket. I suspect he is right-we never worried a bit about our things.

Told a tout, when he asked why we went to Islamic Quarter instead of Cairo Museum, that we wanted to experience live people-not dead ones…way of saying we wanted to get a feel for contemporary Egypt. We sorta did…

Tucked away amid the modern urban area of Cairo lies one of the world’s oldest Islamic cities, with its famous mosques, madrasas, hammams and fountains. Founded in the 10th century, it became the new centre of the Islamic world, reaching its golden age in the 14th century. It is an UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The style of cueing in line is very different than in the US where we frown on people crowding in or even acting like they want to be first in line as being a very selfish thing. The jostling is incredible so we just usually sit and wait until everyone gets off the plane or bus or train and then we get up and go.

Diplomacy Egyptian Style

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As westerners we are not used to the constant demands for “baksheesh” (tipping) that make you want to blow your stack…and then they want you to be happy about it! Salaries and wages are so low that baksheesh becomes an essential means of supplementing incomes-so for a cleaner in a one or two-star hotel who might earn only about $35 a month tipping becomes the mainstay of the income.

Minimal Diplomacy
Waiter on the train as we were returning to Cairo, asks Bob “Are you happy?” “That much,” says Bob with a show of hands about two feet apart…There just is minimal diplomacy as we know it unless you are insulated in a four or five star hotel. But the older eccentric Brit eating with us in our hotel restaurant has been coming here every year for six years…and was here during the massacre in Luxor. You just have to realize they are trying to survive, he says, and that the people are living in a benign dictatorship that colors the cultural fabric.

At the airport, as we were walking up to the doors we thought we were home free. But as soon as the door opened there were two uniformed and armed police facing us. One yelled “what are you doing here!” With our bags it was obvious that we were tourists so the question was confusing. At that point, Bob retorted angrily that we were just trying to get into the airport! They let us go.

Cultural Attitudes and Mores
Is your husband looking for new wife, says the tour operator…want to trade your wife for a camel he says then to the young Irish guy visiting with his shy new Japanese wife on their honeymoon…your husband is a lucky man…if he finds new woman you just kill him and put him in the Nile.

In the souk (market) I said “see you later Alligator,” to a seller. “Here it’s not ‘After While Crocodile,’he replied. “it’s ‘In the Nile Crocodile’.” We laughed! Water is sprinkled on the streets to keep the dust down…making mud…as I walked down the street.

What are you looking for…nothing, I don’t need anything…I am just looking to appreciate…if I buy that it will just sit in my house…are you Egyptian he asked. No, I said, American…he said you think just like an Egyptian…what do you need. Nothing, I have husband and children and a house…what are you looking for…nothing…I have nothing, he said, what color do you want? Blue I said…how big do you need it…infinite size, I said not realizing what kind of game I was playing with him. Then…I have something you have never seen, he said…come look…

Young man wants to buy my shoes…with those shoes I could get dressed up and go to the disco and find a woman…!

After the souk, dodging 6 lanes of honking cars not traveling in any one lane, we cross the street for orange juice while a truck full of soldiers passed by waving and blowing kisses…also men sitting idle…not seeming to mind I was with a man…your husband is a very lucky man…to Bob again are you looking for new wife?

Later in Aswan I heard from a vendor…would you like a banana…just 30 minutes….

On the train on the way back to Cairo from Luxor…here is a flower (looked like a dandelion but smelled like a gardenia) realizing the server had to have gotten off the train at the last stop to get it…can be very charming but no clue about western sensibilities or boundaries…and I suspect they don’t care to know.

I read that even Egyptian women, who would not otherwise, wear the higab (Islamic scarf) outside the home to protect themselves from the same harassment. It is not really intimidating but just a nuisance, like a mosquito buzzing in your ear, Lonely Planet says. You can swat it away and keep it at a distance, but it’s always out there trying to get in your ear. The problem is, according to one Egyptian man, that for every 10 women approached, one will say yes. The Dutch woman on the train behind me said that her brother who travels a lot, has come across a lot of Egyptian men who hook up with Western women.

Images of Egypt

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All we have to offer regarding Egypt are images.Very little understanding. We were open; wanted to understand, feeling generous and happy. Smiling. Saying hello to everyone. Thinking we were making friends…now we have only flashes of ambiguous feeling…

When Americans think of poverty they think of India…or Africa. Poverty here is endemic…makes Mexico look like downtown San Francisco…tourism is all they have and after the massacre of tourists in 1997 in Luxor, tourism in Egypt was decimated. The sellers are desperate to sell and the consequent harassment of tourists is unparalled by anything we have ever experienced.

As if this were not enough, Egypt being essentially a police state anyway, has added to the misery. There are police everywhere trying to protect you and individual travel between most cities are not allowed unless as part of a caravan accompanied by a police car and with a policeman in each car. Tourists are only allowed to travel on three of several trains a day from Luxor to Cairo and there are always 5-6 policemen accompanying the first class (misnomer) cars.

On the train returning from Luxor north to Cairo a young Dutch couple was sitting behind us. The fellow had gotten up to stand at the end of the car for awhile but was immediately yelled at and sent back to his seat by the police. As he was continuing to utter expletives, I turned around and said “You have to laugh or you will go crazy in this country!” With a look that could kill he said, “Oh, I am wayyyyy behond that” as he shot himself in the head with his finger. An alternative would be to fly from Cairo to Aswan or Luxor and back.

Tourism has come back up in Luxor since the massacre and we felt completely safe but the country is still reeling from the effects of the massacre and 9/11.

In an interview of several high-end hotel employees in “HE” magazine (Egypt’s GQ) one manager said “for the money they pay us, we insulate our guests from everything they want to be insulated from.” I read this when we first arrived and scoffed at the people who don’t want to be exposed to the ordinary person on the street in a country. After all, isn’t this why we are traveling-to find out how the heart beats on the streets? However next time I visit the middle east I will join a tour group.

Santorini & Sifnos

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As the ferry approached the island through the caldera you see a red-brown black and pumice grey terraced cliff face that looms hundreds of feet above the water with brilliant-white buildings with blue trim reflecting the Aegean Sea hanging off the side. But all those beautiful buildings hanging off the cliffs of Santorini, as it turns out, are all hotels, boutique shops, cafes and restaurants with a few blue domed Byzantine churches mixed in.

Walked into a cafe for breakfast of coffee and pastry the first morning to the sounds of Portland’s own Pink Martini playing on the stereo. While walking around the town-Bob in his perennial shorts-we passed a group of Spanish teenagers and one was heard in English “look at that guy-he’s wearing shorts-makes no sense! Do you think it made any impression on Bob?

After exploring the island’s archaelogical and historical sites and lying on black sand beaches there was not much else to do unless you were twenty years old and wanted to spend all night in the discos-so we ferried it six hours to another, smaller island-Sifnos.

Sifnos
At the harbor port of Kamares we took a bus the five miles up a windy road to Apollonia where we checked late into the Sifnos Hotel-tired and hungry. There was only one other patron in the hotel, a French publisher who returns to the island every spring. Apostolos, the hotel proprietor, welcomed us each with an Ouzo. Then he treated the French woman and Bob and I with Mezedhes (appetizers) and we sat for the next two hours eating and talking culture and politics. This is what I had been waiting for! Marie, the French publisher was reading the memoirs of Edward W. Said the professor at Columbia University whose books are popular reading these days for an understanding of the middle east.

Apollonia is an amalgam of three very charming hilltop villages with connecting white-washed buildings with flower-draped balconies lining immaculate narrow marble footways. The people actually live and work here and one gets the feeling this is how they prefer things. The shops are only open during the summer so most of the locals have other work the remainder of the year, Apostolos says.

Sifnos is 16km by 8km-great for walking-so Bob took off the next day for a five hour walk following a trail with one great view after another along the way up to an acropolis with a church and some ruins from 600BC. Almost the entire island was terraced 2-3000 years ago when the islanders supported themselves with agricultural products but since the advent of tourism and vehicle ferries the walled terraces now mostly grow yellow and white daisies and blood-red poppies and support the lonely burro and the goats. It is interesting that the people built their town in and around the many ruins; Greece taking for granted its antiquity.

This island has given us a welcome respite from noise and activity; none of the shops were open yet and their owners were painting, sweeping, repairing all over-preparing for the summer-eager and hopeful.

Apostolos says the Greek Orthodox church is very powerful in Greece-and very conservative-legislating every aspect of family life which is the all-important institution next to the church. Families stay together always-even if/when children move away there is almost daily contact, he says. Marie, the French lady said that yes, the Greeks seem open and friendly but there it stops-they are very clannish and no one on the outside gets into the inner circles. She and Apostolos recommend reading “Three Summers” by Margareta Liberaki published also in English.

Women
My sense about the young women I have seen especially in the less developed countries of Spain, Portugal, Morocco and Greece is that they are a pretty savvy lot. Nothing will hold them back now!

As there was a strike on the day we planned to take the ferry back to Athens, we asked Apostolos if we could have the hotel room for the afternoon. “Of course, of course,” he says, “life is simple, life is simple!” When we were ready to leave, he gave us each a going away drink of Ouzo. I don’t want to leave this place…I am grateful for this journey; I have learned these ways so far to say thank you: Greek-efsharisto, Spanish-Gracias, French-merci, Portuguese-obrigado/a, Italian-grazie.

Back in Athens, I sat in the internet cafe with a young Anglican priest from Britain who was bicycling his way to Haifa Israel. Not worried, he said. The other fellow, was a UN Police Observer from South Bend, Indiana stationed in Kosovo making 90,000 a year. He was in Athens on leave. Meeting people like this is one of the reasons I like going to Internet cafes.

Avignon France

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Took the train from Barcelona to Avignon in the Provence area in the south of France. Stayed at Hotel Mignon on rue Joseph-Vernet. Cute little French hotel room but the smallest loo yet! Sitting on the stool, you find your knees sticking out the door!

We tried to eat at Christian Etienne’s famous restaurant so I could report to Josh but they were full up. They referred us to another restaurant with a respected chef, the Piedoie where we had a wonderful dinner at half the price.

At another fine restaurant a woman had her dog sitting on her lap during the meal. Must be acceptable in France.

Avignon is an old Roman city with narrow winding streets and is entirely enclosed by ancient Roman walls. The highlight is the Palace of the Popes-so called because the Vatican moved it’s center from Rome to Avignon for a time. Attached to the Palace is the Church of Notre Dame. Bob went to Easter mass there the morning we left. Capturing some of the incredible music on the camcorder, he reported that the chief celebrant was a cardinal…if a big red hat means anything.

In the 14th century, this city in the South of France was the seat of the papacy. The Palais des Papes, an austere-looking fortress lavishly decorated by Simone Martini and Matteo Giovanetti, dominates the city, the surrounding ramparts and the remains of a 12th-century bridge over the Rhone. Beneath this outstanding example of Gothic architecture, the Petit Palais and the Romanesque Cathedral of Notre-Dame-des-Doms complete an exceptional group of monuments that testify to the leading role played by Avignon in 14th-century Christian Europe. Avignon is an UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The New Young Brits

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In the train, before crawling into my compartment, I stood out in the hall and had a great conversation with a bright energetic young Brit (Richard) attending Cambridge. He had been traveling by himself on college break all through Morocco. (There were thousands of European students on college break traveling all over Europe during this time.)

He explained, when asked, that in Britain at these schools you pick a subject and then only study that subject-and his subject was Modern History. He was full of questions about my 1965 trip to Europe and about my activities during the Viet Nam War. He was fully aware that in the U. S. more Viet Nam veterans have committed suicide since the war than all the 40,000 men who died during that war.

At first I thought Richard was French because he was speaking so fluently in French with someone else in another compartment but he explained that he grew up bilingual.

My generation in America has grown up with a view of Britain as the great colonialist country but perhaps it’s citizens have learned a great deal from it’s own history and Britain now has one of the most culturally sophisticated generations in the English speaking world. The upcoming generations of Americans would do well to learn from them-indeed it must especially if we are to learn how to get along with the rest of the world. But it won’t happen without exposure to other cultures on a pretty broad scale and at a pretty young age. For example, Richard’s first travel experience was at the age of 15 when he was sent to India alone by his parents for several months. What parents do you know that would allow their 15 year old children the same experience-alone? Richard said that words cannot describe the feeling you have when you step off the plane for the first time in Bombay-and you only have a first experience one time-he noted-and you never forget it.

He left me thinking that if this generation of youngsters will be in charge of the world in the next 20 years we will be ok.

The next morning we took a ferry from Tangiers to Algeciras; ate at a great family run Tapas Bar around the corner from the train station-snails in tomato sauce, Potato Ruso, fried calimari, seafood salad in mayonnaise sauce and beer and then took the train from Algeciras to Madrid. Arrived 10pm in Madrid and picked up another night train to Barcelona. Same kind of sleeping compartments as night before in Morocco but hey-we’re old hands at this now! Even got to sleep in middle beds in the compartment and no one shut the window!

9/11 & Two Muslims

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The next day, we spent the day in Marrakech waiting for our favorite night train back to Tangiers. I spent all afternoon at the Ali Hotel Internet Cafe while Bob went out walking through the city again. Ate dinner at a restaurant overlooking the Square. Bob had great beef stew with onions and raisons. I had a welcome spaghetti with pomodora (tomato) sauce and water. On the way back to the hotel we bought a liter of fresh squeezed orange juice for about 75 cents for the trip back on the train.

By this time I had made friends with a young man who was in charge of the Internet Cafe-Fattah Boutnach. We had been trading cultural information intermittently before we left on the excursion and since I felt there was generally a pretty good feeling between us I decided to ask the big question. The first thing he had said to me when we met was that “Americans and Europeans are very HARD.” This took me by surprise, but we do have a competitiveness that makes us hurried and sharp with each other. In the interest of being task-oriented have we gained everything at the risk of losing our souls? The rest of the world fears this is true and doesn’t want it to happen to them.

He said that my name, Eunice, is the name of a prophet in the Koran-the
‘man that was eaten by the fish” (Jonah) and that Eunice is a name for a man in the Arabic world.

But back to my big question. From Fattah’s perspective I wanted to know “what was the pain that caused 9/11?” Curiously, Fattah didn’t understand my question. The answer was political not emotional.

Fattah’s English was not that sophisticated so he invited a friend to join our conversation-a handome man in his 30’s with clear eyes and resolute but warm and friendly manner. He was clean shaven and had on a beautifully immaculate white cotton jamalla. As it turned out he was very well read in English. When asked, he said that his job was educating very young children but he quickly added that more importantly he was a student of history and philosophy. (Educating the next generation of jihadists, I wondered.) In response to the realities in the Arab speaking world he had written an article for a French publication. He promised to use a translation program on the internet to translate the article into English for me and send it to me via email which I never received.

But following are some of the comments they made during our conversation:

1. “Maybe now Americans, in particular your American government, will try to understand “the other” a people different than yourselves. Your government-and we understand that it is not done by the American people-has chipped away at our identities for years now-has denied us who we are and it is time for this to stop and the American people must understand what’s happening and put pressure on their government to get it to stop doing this.

2. They wanted to talk about the “aggression” in Afghanistan and said that they did not believe Osama bin laden was connected to 9/11 but I tried to steer the conversation away from those topics because I wanted to stay on a more personal level. They wanted to know how we knew for sure that Osama was actually saying what we thought he was saying on the videotape. I explained that the government had four different translators translate the video and that in addition, because they doubted any translation commissioned by the US government, an Arab advocacy organization also translated it. I told him we heard Osama exclaiming how it was a good thing that it happened. Then they dropped the subject but I don’t think they were convinced.

I countered to the first comment that before 9/11 Bush barely was elected president-that our intellectuals were trying to understand but the average American did not have a clue why 9/11 happened and was supporting Bush’s policy on terrorism.

The men wanted to know why and I said that because most Americans do not read and study about what our government does in other countries so they don’t know how our government is perceived by people in other countries. I continued that most American people get their information from the press but that that information was generally considered by our intellectuals to be very shallow. Also most Americans basically were not interested in international news because they are busy working to earn a living and do not see that it is relevant to their lives. So the press does not give us much international news in the first place.

The two men countered that Americans must begin reading because people in other countries are reading and are developing opinions of our government based on what they read. They gave an example-comments that our vice president, Dick Cheney made a few years ago, that is widely read in the Arab world and has them (Arabs) “scared to death.” Then Fattah’s friend gave me a list of books he thinks Americans must also read: Thomas Freeman “The Mind Managers” published by Beacon Press in Boston in 1974 and “Globalisation, The Human Consequences” by Zygment Bowman published by Cambridge Press in 1998.

By this time I had to leave for the train so we traded email addresses and we all affirmed that there is always hope for people to learn to get along with each other. I told them about John Hofer’s imperative that I report back to my friends at home what my travels revealed about what we have become in this world. Fattah told me that this was a very great responsibility. Then they said “lahamdalela” to me as I left-meaning, they said, “Thanks to God.” The conversation left me reeling.