In honor of moving to Egypt I wanted to make some lists. A list of things I will miss about home, and things I'm looking forward to getting away from; and a list of things I'm looking forward to in Egypt, and things I am not looking forward to in Egypt.
Things I will miss are in green, things I will not miss are in red
Home
1. I will miss my mom, my family, and my friends a lot.
1. I will not miss being badgered by various family members for becoming Muslim.
2. I will miss American food.
2. I will not miss all the preservatives/pestacides used in American food.
3. I will miss my car.
3. I will not miss paying gas prices.
4. I will miss hearing both of my languages spoken at all places around me.
4. I will not miss having people speak to me like I don't speak English because of my hijab.
5. I will miss having 200 random channels of English TV available and all the shows I am addicted to like the Medium, SVU, and Scrubs.
5. Actually there is nothing I will not miss about that.
6. I will miss being able to go out and drive around aimlessly like I do here when I'm really stressed or under pressure. I will also miss being able to get somewhere in a reasonable amount of time because no matter how much TCers like to complain about our traffic (especially since the 35W collapse) it doesn't hold a candle next to the hot mess of Cairo traffic.
7. I will not miss traffic cops catching people (occasionally me) for speeding.
8. I will miss Cub Foods.
8. I will not miss Cub Foods' produce.
9. I will miss my mattress. Lots. I mean a lot a lot.
10. I will miss the 4th of July fireworks and sitting on the grass with my favorite cousins.
11. I will miss my cousin Oogie (not her real name but a nickname we've called her since childhood) and sewing/watching movies/playing WOW/talking on the phone/going out to dinner/playing Wii bowling/playing zonk/playing hand and foot.... etc. And also her mom and dad who are some of my favorite people in the world. I know this counts as missing family, but she's like my best friend and deserves her own number.
12. I'll miss the births of a lot of my friends' babies (Carrie and Mer specifically).
13. I'll miss knowing my way around. Everything.
14. I'll miss being in control. HA! Thats gonna be a big one, I'm really going to miss being in control. Control of where I go, what I can do, what I can take care of, etc. Moving it Egypt is definately going to be a lesson in letting go.
15. I'm really just going to miss home.
Egypt
1. I'm looking forward to being with my husband. I might mention that one a couple of times cuz I'm REALLY looking forward to that one.
2. I'm looking forward to seeing my neices and nephews and all of my in-laws cuz I really do love them.
3. I'm looking forward to learning Arabic.
3. I'm not looking forward to not understanding until I do.
4. I'm looking forward to warm winters.
4. But I'm definately not looking forward to the summer.
5. I'm looking forward to all the new experiences, new places to see, new people to meet.
6. I'm looking forward to being in a Muslim country. REALLY looking forward to that one.
7. I'm looking forward to having my own kitchen to cook food in and play house -this time for real- with my husband.
7. I'm terrified of actually having to prove I'm a good cook.
8. I'm looking forward to koshari and really good lebanese restaurants.
8. I'm not looking forward to any other Egyptian food. Ok maybe maashi.
9. I am looking forward to fresh produce that actually tastes like food. Oh and halal meat.
9. Not really looking forward to the less than FDA-standard sanitation involved with both of the above.
10. Not looking forward to Cairo traffic. But I am kind of excited to see people riding donkeys up 6 lane causeways again. It tickles me funnybone.
11. I'm looking forward to being in the desert again. I miss that about Arizona, I'm really a desert girl at heart.
12. I'm REALLY looking forward to Arabic music. Not even kidding. When I came back from Egypt last summer I avoided radio stations for about five months. Music here sucks.
13. I'm looking forward to actually having a house of my own. I've always either been in my mom's house, or a roomie, or in a dorm room, so I never got the chance to interior decorate at will.
14. I would love to work in Egypt and am looking forward to that opportunity (inshAllah). I hope that I am given one.
15. I'm not looking forward to garbage in the streets.
16. I'm not looking forward to corruption or the loss of my basic human rights.
17. I'm not looking forward to people honking their horns 24 hours a day.
18. But I am looking forward to the smiles and warmth of the Egyptian people.
19. The ADHAN!!!! I'm looking forward to always hearing that. (thanks DawnUK I forgot one of the most important ones.)
20. I am looking forward to a completely new way of life.
Feel free to add any advice and/or extras to the list, I may have left out some things.
Showing posts with label all things Egyptian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label all things Egyptian. Show all posts
Friday, May 2, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Shaken
Looking at the pictures of the riots in Al-Mahala I was startled by the youth of those involved, and one picture in particular stopped my heart.
all photos taken from here
The young boy looking back at the photographer looks a lot like my nephew and for a second I could imagine that it was him.
Him kidnapped and beaten.
Him held prisoner for days.
And as much as the situation had affected me before, just taking that fear and pain and suffering that I felt while only imagining that it could have been my nephew, and knowing that it wasn't, I tasted the tiniest trace of the fear, pain, and suffering of those who's children it really was.
I look through the other pictures and see the young men full of fury and pride and fear and excitement and the mass hysteria that comes with crowds, and I feel inside me a weak echo of the range of emotions on their faces.
Especially the young man in the middle who is glaring so intently into the camera, as if ready to go around again, to face the worst possible outcome, and for what?
Freedom?
Yes.
Rights?
Yes.
Because theres nothing left...?
Yes.
I feel pride when I see them fight, when I see anyone fight, for freedom from oppression with the only possible weapons they have: their hearts, their minds, and their hands.
And I'm shaken to my very core.
The young boy looking back at the photographer looks a lot like my nephew and for a second I could imagine that it was him.
Him kidnapped and beaten.
Him held prisoner for days.
And as much as the situation had affected me before, just taking that fear and pain and suffering that I felt while only imagining that it could have been my nephew, and knowing that it wasn't, I tasted the tiniest trace of the fear, pain, and suffering of those who's children it really was.
I look through the other pictures and see the young men full of fury and pride and fear and excitement and the mass hysteria that comes with crowds, and I feel inside me a weak echo of the range of emotions on their faces.
Especially the young man in the middle who is glaring so intently into the camera, as if ready to go around again, to face the worst possible outcome, and for what?
Freedom?
Yes.
Rights?
Yes.
Because theres nothing left...?
Yes.
I feel pride when I see them fight, when I see anyone fight, for freedom from oppression with the only possible weapons they have: their hearts, their minds, and their hands.
And I'm shaken to my very core.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
K** O*** ya Hosni
Riots in Mahala, at the end you can hear them chanting "f**k you Hosni, f**k you."
this post has been censored at hubby's request.
*Sorry for the heavy language.
this post has been censored at hubby's request.
*Sorry for the heavy language.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Happyness
Usually I answer the comments on a post in the comments section, but I believe there is so much more for me to say about the comments I received on my post about missing Egypt that another separate post is called for.
Some questioned how I could miss a country I was not born to, others questioned what exactly I missed, and some questioned whether I was actually searching for a happiness I may not find there. All are valid curiosities and many are rooted in reality but, as seems to be a running theme in my life, I don't really fit into anything that makes sense.
Missing Egypt even though I'm not Egyptian, what do I miss? I have been to many foreign countries and have seen many cities and cultures, but there is something in Egypt that makes it different from anywhere else. Lets narrow this down to Cairo though, because when I talk about Egypt I am mostly talking about Cairo. What makes it different?
The life.
Cairo lives and breathes on its own as a city, it is the only place that I have been to where there is an active city at all hours of the day and night. I spent a whole day with my husband, and my brother and sister-in-law, and when it came to fajr there were still things for us to do: we sat on a bridge full of early-bird (late-nighter?) fisherman and families still in the street as we were and ate hummous. Prior to that we had been in a cafe on the nile that was filled with people at one in the morning, the streets had still been deadlocked with traffic and the bridge next to it had still been filled with groups leaning over the side. The small boats strung with lights and blaring loud music were still moving up and down the Nile until early in the morning. The city never sleeps.
During the day you hear the traffic, the ubiquitous junk dealer leading his donkey up and down the streets yelling through an ancient amplifier that muddles his words into a garbled mess of noise. No one could really tell me what he was saying but everyone knew that he would buy your useless junk. And the donkeys, oh the donkeys; next to the blare of car horns the second most common sound in Cairo is the braying of all the donkeys. What about the carts of neatly stacked watermelons? Everywhere just waiting even stacked on the sides of the road as we drove between Cairo and Alex.
The million restaurants, the ring of the koshary shops, buying cheese and foul sandwiches at two or three in the morning. The bazaars on every corner selling everything you could imagine. Or the tiny carnival I once spied while with my friend Merhan and her cousin and them taking me to it and paying for us to all drive bumper cars.
The smiles of the bumper car crew who grinned and welcomed me to Egypt. The smiles of everyone in the street, the warmth and passion with which friends argued, gestured, laughed, talked, cried, and watched everything that went on around them. Even though I didn't know them they were connected to me, to eachother, and to others they didn't know. Life, while poorer economically, was lived fuller for its very tenuousness. The food tasted stronger, the colors brighter, the air thicker even if it was with pollution, and I felt a million times more alive. Pain, love, happiness, and sadness were felt more vividly.
Thats what I miss, and moreover it is so different from anything else I have ever felt. When I walk through downtown Minneapolis now I get a wiff of that same feeling. Not as bright, nor vivid, nor passionate as Cairo, but for a split second I feel a bit more alive. And the fact is that despite being surrounded by people I am completely alone. No one is connected here, friendships are not expressed as fully, no one smiles, no one laughs, no one sits and talks just because they can. Here life is about point A and point B, in Egypt life is about the trip between the two. Thats what I miss.
I've been to other ginormous cities. I've walked the midnight streets of Madrid and never found what I found in Cairo. I've walked the midnight streets of Paris and not found what I found in Cairo. I've been to Istanbul and found that people affect the same coldness and individuality of Europe and America, and while in Athens I found the same sense of living life as I found in Egypt, but I could not stand the rudeness; while close to Egyptians in passion the culture was still basically different and offensive in many ways. The Greek were passionate but almost eager in their passion to offend you.
Everyone I have ever met who has been to Egypt returns saying that they had never met a culture so warm and welcoming. Thats what I miss. Smiles, I miss. Laughter, I miss. Being hugged to the bosom, of a matron I had just met, with joyous abandon, I miss. Being handed babies to kiss like a presidential hopeful on campaign, I miss. Listening to the curses and shouts and laughter and arguements of those around me and those in the street, I miss.
Sitting here staring out into an empty street, shuttered houses of people I've lived next to for six years and still never met, knowing that unless I go to the house of friend I will not be greeted with anything but wary aloofness, I feel completely alone. The sense of belonging to a whole, I miss.
And that has nothing to do with not being born in Egypt, and everything to do with finding a home there anyway.
And my pursuit of happyness; sure I am a person who can never be 100% happy in one place and its a curse (?) that I've dealt with for a long time in my life. When I lived in Minnesota I ached to be somewhere else, when I lived in Arizona I love it but missed Minnesota, in Minnesota again I ache for Arizona. When I am in Cairo I am sure I will miss both places at the same time. Do I think I will find some happiness in Cairo? I am certain of it. Do I think I will find the be all and end all of happiness there? I doubt it, but I am open to the possibility. I am a wanderer by nature, I don't know that this will ever change. And I don't find that missing someplace detracts from my enjoyment of being where I am at the moment. In Arizona I found a happiness I could only find in Arizona and I partook of it wholeheartedly, and in Minnesota now I find so much fulfillment in my family and friends and wonderful ummah here even though I miss Cairo and Arizona that my desire to be elsewhere does not keep me from enjoying the beauty I have here.
Everyone is always pursuing happiness but, with the exception of when I first went down to Arizona, I don't believe that a place will ever bring me a peace I can't find where I am. My peace, my home, my happiness exists within me and I carry it wherever I go. And I think I am blessed to have pieces of happiness waiting for me wherever I end up.
That being said Egypt is my home as much as Arizona is my home and Minnesota is my home, and all for very different reasons.
That is, I guess, the nature of my own happyness.
Some questioned how I could miss a country I was not born to, others questioned what exactly I missed, and some questioned whether I was actually searching for a happiness I may not find there. All are valid curiosities and many are rooted in reality but, as seems to be a running theme in my life, I don't really fit into anything that makes sense.
Missing Egypt even though I'm not Egyptian, what do I miss? I have been to many foreign countries and have seen many cities and cultures, but there is something in Egypt that makes it different from anywhere else. Lets narrow this down to Cairo though, because when I talk about Egypt I am mostly talking about Cairo. What makes it different?
The life.
Cairo lives and breathes on its own as a city, it is the only place that I have been to where there is an active city at all hours of the day and night. I spent a whole day with my husband, and my brother and sister-in-law, and when it came to fajr there were still things for us to do: we sat on a bridge full of early-bird (late-nighter?) fisherman and families still in the street as we were and ate hummous. Prior to that we had been in a cafe on the nile that was filled with people at one in the morning, the streets had still been deadlocked with traffic and the bridge next to it had still been filled with groups leaning over the side. The small boats strung with lights and blaring loud music were still moving up and down the Nile until early in the morning. The city never sleeps.
During the day you hear the traffic, the ubiquitous junk dealer leading his donkey up and down the streets yelling through an ancient amplifier that muddles his words into a garbled mess of noise. No one could really tell me what he was saying but everyone knew that he would buy your useless junk. And the donkeys, oh the donkeys; next to the blare of car horns the second most common sound in Cairo is the braying of all the donkeys. What about the carts of neatly stacked watermelons? Everywhere just waiting even stacked on the sides of the road as we drove between Cairo and Alex.
The million restaurants, the ring of the koshary shops, buying cheese and foul sandwiches at two or three in the morning. The bazaars on every corner selling everything you could imagine. Or the tiny carnival I once spied while with my friend Merhan and her cousin and them taking me to it and paying for us to all drive bumper cars.
The smiles of the bumper car crew who grinned and welcomed me to Egypt. The smiles of everyone in the street, the warmth and passion with which friends argued, gestured, laughed, talked, cried, and watched everything that went on around them. Even though I didn't know them they were connected to me, to eachother, and to others they didn't know. Life, while poorer economically, was lived fuller for its very tenuousness. The food tasted stronger, the colors brighter, the air thicker even if it was with pollution, and I felt a million times more alive. Pain, love, happiness, and sadness were felt more vividly.
Thats what I miss, and moreover it is so different from anything else I have ever felt. When I walk through downtown Minneapolis now I get a wiff of that same feeling. Not as bright, nor vivid, nor passionate as Cairo, but for a split second I feel a bit more alive. And the fact is that despite being surrounded by people I am completely alone. No one is connected here, friendships are not expressed as fully, no one smiles, no one laughs, no one sits and talks just because they can. Here life is about point A and point B, in Egypt life is about the trip between the two. Thats what I miss.
I've been to other ginormous cities. I've walked the midnight streets of Madrid and never found what I found in Cairo. I've walked the midnight streets of Paris and not found what I found in Cairo. I've been to Istanbul and found that people affect the same coldness and individuality of Europe and America, and while in Athens I found the same sense of living life as I found in Egypt, but I could not stand the rudeness; while close to Egyptians in passion the culture was still basically different and offensive in many ways. The Greek were passionate but almost eager in their passion to offend you.
Everyone I have ever met who has been to Egypt returns saying that they had never met a culture so warm and welcoming. Thats what I miss. Smiles, I miss. Laughter, I miss. Being hugged to the bosom, of a matron I had just met, with joyous abandon, I miss. Being handed babies to kiss like a presidential hopeful on campaign, I miss. Listening to the curses and shouts and laughter and arguements of those around me and those in the street, I miss.
Sitting here staring out into an empty street, shuttered houses of people I've lived next to for six years and still never met, knowing that unless I go to the house of friend I will not be greeted with anything but wary aloofness, I feel completely alone. The sense of belonging to a whole, I miss.
And that has nothing to do with not being born in Egypt, and everything to do with finding a home there anyway.
And my pursuit of happyness; sure I am a person who can never be 100% happy in one place and its a curse (?) that I've dealt with for a long time in my life. When I lived in Minnesota I ached to be somewhere else, when I lived in Arizona I love it but missed Minnesota, in Minnesota again I ache for Arizona. When I am in Cairo I am sure I will miss both places at the same time. Do I think I will find some happiness in Cairo? I am certain of it. Do I think I will find the be all and end all of happiness there? I doubt it, but I am open to the possibility. I am a wanderer by nature, I don't know that this will ever change. And I don't find that missing someplace detracts from my enjoyment of being where I am at the moment. In Arizona I found a happiness I could only find in Arizona and I partook of it wholeheartedly, and in Minnesota now I find so much fulfillment in my family and friends and wonderful ummah here even though I miss Cairo and Arizona that my desire to be elsewhere does not keep me from enjoying the beauty I have here.
Everyone is always pursuing happiness but, with the exception of when I first went down to Arizona, I don't believe that a place will ever bring me a peace I can't find where I am. My peace, my home, my happiness exists within me and I carry it wherever I go. And I think I am blessed to have pieces of happiness waiting for me wherever I end up.
That being said Egypt is my home as much as Arizona is my home and Minnesota is my home, and all for very different reasons.
That is, I guess, the nature of my own happyness.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Memory of Egypt
In keeping with my 'missing Egypt' mood. Something written when I missed and remember my husband.
I can taste it, the dust in the air poignant, stagnant, choking, breathing, living dust. Laughter in warraq the smoke of trash burning, the bark of the dogs. Horns and donkies side by side somewhere, but here, just him and I. I can taste his sweat and he pulls my hair, hushed love above the dirt streets. No, alleys. It is an alley where the bawebs' children play. Women peddling fateer and sweets. Below, loud voices. But above the caucaphony hushed, quiet, hurried love. He pulls my hair, heavy lidded eyes. I love you, he says. Awy, awy, awy, I reply, hushed by lips and laughter in warraq. Hushed, sweet, sensitive love, I love you, he says. Awy, awy, I reply.
I can taste it, the dust in the air poignant, stagnant, choking, breathing, living dust. Laughter in warraq the smoke of trash burning, the bark of the dogs. Horns and donkies side by side somewhere, but here, just him and I. I can taste his sweat and he pulls my hair, hushed love above the dirt streets. No, alleys. It is an alley where the bawebs' children play. Women peddling fateer and sweets. Below, loud voices. But above the caucaphony hushed, quiet, hurried love. He pulls my hair, heavy lidded eyes. I love you, he says. Awy, awy, awy, I reply, hushed by lips and laughter in warraq. Hushed, sweet, sensitive love, I love you, he says. Awy, awy, I reply.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Homesick
When I see pictures of Cairo I feel like I'm looking at pictures of home. I have no claim to Cairo but through my husband, and I only spent eight weeks there last summer, but its very essence has become so ingrained on my spirit that I feel like I will always be connected to the city just as I am connected to my birthplace.
I don't negate its ugly side, and I don't pretend to ignore the harsher reality beneath the bright lights, but when it comes down to it a piece of me still exists there and probably always will.
So when I think of moving to Egypt this summer I don't feel as if I'm moving to a foreign country, I feel like I'm going home.
I don't speak the language and so many of the finer nuances of the culture escape my American-bred literalness, but when I think of being there this sense of loneliness and desire squeezes my heart inside.
Ana Baheb Masr.
Check out the smog yo, I don't miss that.
This is just a cool pic
I don't negate its ugly side, and I don't pretend to ignore the harsher reality beneath the bright lights, but when it comes down to it a piece of me still exists there and probably always will.
So when I think of moving to Egypt this summer I don't feel as if I'm moving to a foreign country, I feel like I'm going home.
I don't speak the language and so many of the finer nuances of the culture escape my American-bred literalness, but when I think of being there this sense of loneliness and desire squeezes my heart inside.
Ana Baheb Masr.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Riding ze microbusses
Amnesiac just posted a blog in which she described a ride in a microbus.
As well as being an absolutely hilarious read it is the closest example I have found written down of what it is like to ride in one:
Check out her blog, she works as a journalist in Cairo and talks about some of the more serious political rumblings of today's Egypt.
As well as being an absolutely hilarious read it is the closest example I have found written down of what it is like to ride in one:
. . .we rejoined a motorway which cuts its way through the moon-like topography of the Beni Suef desert and raced along to a stirring soundtrack of Sha3by and chillout music recorded off Nogoum FM. The driver was as usual a 22 year-old who looked like he had just imbibed Colombia’s entire annual Cocaine production and who drove accordingly. We came so close to the bumper of vehicles that I could probably have counted the driver’s nasal hair in his rear view mirror if it wasn’t for the sudden velocity with which our microbus driver veered out from behind the car in front and overtook it.
I am not of a nervous disposition when it comes to driving at breakneck speed with boy racers but did experience a slight heart flutter when the microbus threatened to veer off the road at 100 km an hour when the driver fumbled with the cassette player, or when he spurned the steering wheel and expressed his disgust at something by clapping his hands together for what seemed like 89 hours.
Check out her blog, she works as a journalist in Cairo and talks about some of the more serious political rumblings of today's Egypt.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Inty Aasel
For a brief second today I was strongly reminded of a moment with my 2 year old twin neices.
Mr MM had them on the webcam and was asking them:
"Meen dee?" (Who's that?)
And N said,
"Tante!" (Aunt)
To which G grabbed the mic and, practically swallowing it in her excitement, said,
"Inty aasel!" (You're honey!)
*sigh*
I miss Egypt just a little.
Mr MM had them on the webcam and was asking them:
"Meen dee?" (Who's that?)
And N said,
"Tante!" (Aunt)
To which G grabbed the mic and, practically swallowing it in her excitement, said,
"Inty aasel!" (You're honey!)
*sigh*
I miss Egypt just a little.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
EGYPT WINS THE AFRICAN CUP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MABROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK YA MASR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MABROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK YA MASR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Ya Masrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Ł
ŲØŲ±ŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁŁ ŁŲ§ Ł
ŲµŲ±
Congratulations Egypt!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Dialectic Discourses
While searching out new things to read I stumbled quite innocently upon prominent Egyptian author Naguib Mahfouz and decided to check out all the books the library had by him. I am very intrigued by his ideas and by his writings. Some of you may know of him, maybe for his incredibly blasphemous story The Children of Gebelawi (Ų£ŁŁŲ§ŲÆ ŲŲ§Ų±ŲŖŁŲ§/translit: Awlad Haretna) which won him a Nobel prize and put him on top of some extremists' "to kill" lists. He was stabbed in an attempted murder, but he survived. And yes, the story is VERY MUCH anti-religion, but it is also an existentialist work of art.
Here's where I clue you all into my very dialectic personality. For most of my life I've been like two people in one body (blame my Gemini birth sign if you believe in such a thing) but I have always straddled two worlds. This extends even now into being both an American and a Muslim and I would like to think that I, and most other converts, are living proof that these two things are not mutually exclusive, though they can often be quite thoroughly at odds with each other. As for myself I am very religious and I love my religion. But I also am very existentialist and very interested in existentialist discussions/writings. I am a firm believer in true discourse between people of opposing ideas without clashing and without compromising each other's ideals.
So I am reading, at the moment, Adrift on the Nile and I am fascinated by the way Mahfouz's main character Anis contemplates life, existance, and the possibility of people existing in multiple lifetimes at the same time. But there, do you see, is where others of a more conservative persuasion get a bit twisted in the knickers.
Blasphemy, cries my religious self. Art, cries my internal author and existentialist-junkie. That side is the one that accepts all ideas and believes fully in artistic freedom and which cannot fathom condemning some for not following the guide lines of religion. Of course the things Mahfouz's characters do, think, and expound on are truly against Islam. But some (or most) of his writings are pure genius.
Let us look more closely at The Children of Gebelawi. Uff, but it really is against ALL religion (not just Islam) and Mahfouz insults God and all the Prophets in it (Moses, Jesus, and Mohamed.) So how can I call this a work of art? Here is a brief synopsis of the story: Gebelawi has five sons of which he favors Adham (Adam) above the other four Idris (Satan,) Gabal (Moses,) Rifa'a (Jesus,) and Qasim (Mohamed.) Gebelawi's house is basically a very fabulous garden and when Gebelawi informs all his sons that he has chosen Adham to take over the management of the garden, Idris becomes angry and is banished by Gebelawi. He goes on to tempt Adham (through Adham's wife of course,) from outside the gates, to flout his father's wishes and Adham and his wife are soon banished. Time moves along to where only corruption and greed rule the garden until the offspring of each son- beginning with Gabal, then Rifa'a, and then Qasim in sequential order- uprise against the abuse to bring peace for a short time before failing leading to the next offspring uprising. In the end the protagonist Arafa (knowledge in arabic but symbolizing science) comes and kills Gebelawi.
Of course the allegory is obvious, and its statement is obvious. Gebelawi is God and in the end science/knowledge kills God (astughfurlillah.) This is not much different from whatever infamous person declared that God was dead however many years ago (does anyone know who declared that and when?) It is blasphemous, but the way in which it was written and the allegory used and the statement made, if you look at it from a literary perspective, is true artistic genius.
My author half (greedily existentialist) marvels at the story and wants to read it and anything like it, while my religious soul shrinks from even the idea of what is written there.
I believe that things like this can be read and discussed and contemplated while the real difference would be my understanding that while this may be one person's idea of what is true, it certainly is not MY Truth and therefor is not True for me. But this would not keep me from sitting and talking about and learning more on what they believe. This is dialectic discourse.
And so while I continue to wade my way through some of Mahfouz's other works (which I'm sure are written in astounding arabic but are often translated into unweildy english) I will continue with my own dialectic discourse between the two halves of myself.
Here's where I clue you all into my very dialectic personality. For most of my life I've been like two people in one body (blame my Gemini birth sign if you believe in such a thing) but I have always straddled two worlds. This extends even now into being both an American and a Muslim and I would like to think that I, and most other converts, are living proof that these two things are not mutually exclusive, though they can often be quite thoroughly at odds with each other. As for myself I am very religious and I love my religion. But I also am very existentialist and very interested in existentialist discussions/writings. I am a firm believer in true discourse between people of opposing ideas without clashing and without compromising each other's ideals.
So I am reading, at the moment, Adrift on the Nile and I am fascinated by the way Mahfouz's main character Anis contemplates life, existance, and the possibility of people existing in multiple lifetimes at the same time. But there, do you see, is where others of a more conservative persuasion get a bit twisted in the knickers.
Blasphemy, cries my religious self. Art, cries my internal author and existentialist-junkie. That side is the one that accepts all ideas and believes fully in artistic freedom and which cannot fathom condemning some for not following the guide lines of religion. Of course the things Mahfouz's characters do, think, and expound on are truly against Islam. But some (or most) of his writings are pure genius.
Let us look more closely at The Children of Gebelawi. Uff, but it really is against ALL religion (not just Islam) and Mahfouz insults God and all the Prophets in it (Moses, Jesus, and Mohamed.) So how can I call this a work of art? Here is a brief synopsis of the story: Gebelawi has five sons of which he favors Adham (Adam) above the other four Idris (Satan,) Gabal (Moses,) Rifa'a (Jesus,) and Qasim (Mohamed.) Gebelawi's house is basically a very fabulous garden and when Gebelawi informs all his sons that he has chosen Adham to take over the management of the garden, Idris becomes angry and is banished by Gebelawi. He goes on to tempt Adham (through Adham's wife of course,) from outside the gates, to flout his father's wishes and Adham and his wife are soon banished. Time moves along to where only corruption and greed rule the garden until the offspring of each son- beginning with Gabal, then Rifa'a, and then Qasim in sequential order- uprise against the abuse to bring peace for a short time before failing leading to the next offspring uprising. In the end the protagonist Arafa (knowledge in arabic but symbolizing science) comes and kills Gebelawi.
Of course the allegory is obvious, and its statement is obvious. Gebelawi is God and in the end science/knowledge kills God (astughfurlillah.) This is not much different from whatever infamous person declared that God was dead however many years ago (does anyone know who declared that and when?) It is blasphemous, but the way in which it was written and the allegory used and the statement made, if you look at it from a literary perspective, is true artistic genius.
My author half (greedily existentialist) marvels at the story and wants to read it and anything like it, while my religious soul shrinks from even the idea of what is written there.
I believe that things like this can be read and discussed and contemplated while the real difference would be my understanding that while this may be one person's idea of what is true, it certainly is not MY Truth and therefor is not True for me. But this would not keep me from sitting and talking about and learning more on what they believe. This is dialectic discourse.
And so while I continue to wade my way through some of Mahfouz's other works (which I'm sure are written in astounding arabic but are often translated into unweildy english) I will continue with my own dialectic discourse between the two halves of myself.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
A Snow Globe World
Would somebody please stop shaking the globe. We're forecasted for another 6-8 inches today (upgraded from the measly 3-4 we had been told to expect) and its already snowing up a storm. Pardon the pun.
For this girl, who got a bit soft during her three years in sunny AZ, snow has quite possibly never been disliked so much. It makes things slippery, it covers my car (which I continue to procrastinate buying a snow brush for my car until I'm standing in front of it, staring at a foot of snow, sans brush), and it makes shoveling necessary. Its like having to mow a lawn, except a lot more often. I'm a palm tree girl, why am I back in the snow? It is really fun to watch the squirrels scamper across the bare tree limbs because they're puffed out to twice their regular size. Like cute gray fur balls that jump.
As I'm writing this, at work no less, my co-workers are bustling with Christmas decorations for the front deask. And I must admit, despite not celebrating the holiday myself, they have fabulous taste. No ugly Santa tchotchkies, or garish red and green hangings from the 80's. In fact the beauty of their decorations makes me want to decorate for Christmas. Help!!!
Some of patients here really creep me out. I think if the patients are inebriated, acting crazy, or obviously high on something, we should be able to kick them out. Oh, and bathing should be a pre-requisite (I feel so bad for our doctors sometimes.) Unfortunately I can't always get what I want. Today we had a patient come in who was quite apparently high on something. Her male companion came later to make an appointment for a physical.
"Do you prefer a male doctor?" I ask.
"No, I want a female."
*gag* Creepy. He also just had an air of general sleeziness.
Number 4,312 on why I never want to be a doctor.
Also, just to add to the random thought process of this post (I have coffee induced ADHD) for anyone who is as nostalgic for Egypt as I am, check out this photo blog of daily life in Egypt taken by a Canadian ex-pat who has been living there for the past 15 years. It makes me all ferklempt.
For this girl, who got a bit soft during her three years in sunny AZ, snow has quite possibly never been disliked so much. It makes things slippery, it covers my car (which I continue to procrastinate buying a snow brush for my car until I'm standing in front of it, staring at a foot of snow, sans brush), and it makes shoveling necessary. Its like having to mow a lawn, except a lot more often. I'm a palm tree girl, why am I back in the snow? It is really fun to watch the squirrels scamper across the bare tree limbs because they're puffed out to twice their regular size. Like cute gray fur balls that jump.
As I'm writing this, at work no less, my co-workers are bustling with Christmas decorations for the front deask. And I must admit, despite not celebrating the holiday myself, they have fabulous taste. No ugly Santa tchotchkies, or garish red and green hangings from the 80's. In fact the beauty of their decorations makes me want to decorate for Christmas. Help!!!
Some of patients here really creep me out. I think if the patients are inebriated, acting crazy, or obviously high on something, we should be able to kick them out. Oh, and bathing should be a pre-requisite (I feel so bad for our doctors sometimes.) Unfortunately I can't always get what I want. Today we had a patient come in who was quite apparently high on something. Her male companion came later to make an appointment for a physical.
"Do you prefer a male doctor?" I ask.
"No, I want a female."
*gag* Creepy. He also just had an air of general sleeziness.
Number 4,312 on why I never want to be a doctor.
Also, just to add to the random thought process of this post (I have coffee induced ADHD) for anyone who is as nostalgic for Egypt as I am, check out this photo blog of daily life in Egypt taken by a Canadian ex-pat who has been living there for the past 15 years. It makes me all ferklempt.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Shout out
I was just reading another blog OrganicMuslimah and I felt the need to give props to my husband's family, and of course to my husband too.
When I went to Egypt and my husband and I got married I was terrified to meet his family. I had always seen the crazy MIL who never thinks any woman is good enough for her beloved son. And considering my husband is the baby of his family I thought it might be even worse. And I suppose it could have been were I not the person I am and were my MIL not the angel that she is. She was wary of me at first I know for certain, but the one and only factor that she needed to ascertain about me and my relationship with her son was how I was going to treat him and how much I would love him. As soon as she realized I was head over heels for her baby, and that I was a kind person who would love him and take care of him like she does, she accepted me with open arms. I adore her and I am so lucky to have her as a MIL. Alhumdulillah.
And despite me not being Egyptian and not being real savvy on the ins and outs of Egyptian culture, the rest of his family accepted me not only with open arms but an incredible wealth of love and kindness. I adore his brother, his brother's wife, and their kids. I love them so much its insane. I love his older sister and her children and I miss the twins so much. His younger sister was my best friend within the day we met and his father was my baba from the beginning. I have been so blessed to have them as my family.
And my husband, well... say mashAllah. He is my soulmate, my other half. Yes we have issues coming from two different cultures, and yes occasionally he tells me I can't do something in that Arab way he has. But I love him more than my life. Allah has given me so many blessings in so many ways, alhumdulillah.
So I want to give props to my husband for being amazing, and for his family for not being the normal crazy Egyptian family with baggage. I love you habibi, and I love my new family.
Alhumdulillah.
When I went to Egypt and my husband and I got married I was terrified to meet his family. I had always seen the crazy MIL who never thinks any woman is good enough for her beloved son. And considering my husband is the baby of his family I thought it might be even worse. And I suppose it could have been were I not the person I am and were my MIL not the angel that she is. She was wary of me at first I know for certain, but the one and only factor that she needed to ascertain about me and my relationship with her son was how I was going to treat him and how much I would love him. As soon as she realized I was head over heels for her baby, and that I was a kind person who would love him and take care of him like she does, she accepted me with open arms. I adore her and I am so lucky to have her as a MIL. Alhumdulillah.
And despite me not being Egyptian and not being real savvy on the ins and outs of Egyptian culture, the rest of his family accepted me not only with open arms but an incredible wealth of love and kindness. I adore his brother, his brother's wife, and their kids. I love them so much its insane. I love his older sister and her children and I miss the twins so much. His younger sister was my best friend within the day we met and his father was my baba from the beginning. I have been so blessed to have them as my family.
And my husband, well... say mashAllah. He is my soulmate, my other half. Yes we have issues coming from two different cultures, and yes occasionally he tells me I can't do something in that Arab way he has. But I love him more than my life. Allah has given me so many blessings in so many ways, alhumdulillah.
So I want to give props to my husband for being amazing, and for his family for not being the normal crazy Egyptian family with baggage. I love you habibi, and I love my new family.
Alhumdulillah.
Friday, November 30, 2007
You know you're married to an Egyptian when...
A cute list I found on UmmLayla's blog that I had to steal.
You know your husband is Egyptian when...
he insists that if you don't wear slippers in the house you will catch cold.
you find yourself cooking fatah and stuffed grape leaves when you are happy with him.
you can't tell if he's yelling because he's mad or just yelling when he's talking to his family on the phone. (omg SO true)
you think "insha'Allah" means "if I can."
the biggest threat he makes to the kids is "the slipper". (or well actually its usually me threatening him.)
he has stories of his own parents and "the slipper".
every story from his youth involves someone named Mohammad.
he never eats fish when he has a cold.
he drinks tea upon waking, when getting ready, when working... Well, he just drinks lots of tea.
your closet contains a box of things from Egypt to use when you need a last minute gift for someone.
you have at least one cartouche in your jewelry collection.
he has a great sense of humor.
everyone says "I have always wanted to go there!" when you tell them where he is from.
he gets steamed up when all the American depictions of Egypt are the guys in Giza or upper Egypt wearing jilbab.
he never says Alexandria, always Alex.
you wear hegab in the masgid... not hijab in the masjid.
it isn't a meal if you don't offer your guest as much food and variety as the average American gets in a week.
almost everything you cook has cumin, coriander, onions, garlic, and bell pepper.
you have mastered the art of filo dough.
not only do you buy eggplant, you make more than one dish with it.
you know who Amr Diab is, and you actually have at least one CD.
you are truly loved by a man with a heart as big as the ocean;) (thats the truth)
I love my husband so much.
You know your husband is Egyptian when...
he insists that if you don't wear slippers in the house you will catch cold.
you find yourself cooking fatah and stuffed grape leaves when you are happy with him.
you can't tell if he's yelling because he's mad or just yelling when he's talking to his family on the phone. (omg SO true)
you think "insha'Allah" means "if I can."
the biggest threat he makes to the kids is "the slipper". (or well actually its usually me threatening him.)
he has stories of his own parents and "the slipper".
every story from his youth involves someone named Mohammad.
he never eats fish when he has a cold.
he drinks tea upon waking, when getting ready, when working... Well, he just drinks lots of tea.
your closet contains a box of things from Egypt to use when you need a last minute gift for someone.
you have at least one cartouche in your jewelry collection.
he has a great sense of humor.
everyone says "I have always wanted to go there!" when you tell them where he is from.
he gets steamed up when all the American depictions of Egypt are the guys in Giza or upper Egypt wearing jilbab.
he never says Alexandria, always Alex.
you wear hegab in the masgid... not hijab in the masjid.
it isn't a meal if you don't offer your guest as much food and variety as the average American gets in a week.
almost everything you cook has cumin, coriander, onions, garlic, and bell pepper.
you have mastered the art of filo dough.
not only do you buy eggplant, you make more than one dish with it.
you know who Amr Diab is, and you actually have at least one CD.
you are truly loved by a man with a heart as big as the ocean;) (thats the truth)
I love my husband so much.
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