Abulublog

As many bullets as I've dodged,

the only fair and sane conclusion is that someone is shooting at me.

If every option before me is a bullet, where's my gun?

I'd prefer a bow and arrow, in case anyone is taking orders.

Cupid's - if you'll allow it.

Swift and quiet would be my revenge.

All I know is one thing:

When he does finally arrive, disarmed and waving that white flag

The first thing I'm gonna do is kick him in the shins and ask

What took you so damn long?

My Fourth of July memories as a child are mostly begging my dad to take us all the way down to the lake or river (depending on where the fireworks were going to be that year). All too often we would get half-way there and he would park the car and say that this was a good spot to watch them. Ever-avoiding traffic and large crowds of inebriated folk, we would sit on some grassy plot and happily watch the show from afar.

The best memories came from the weekend surrounding the national holiday, when my dad would light up the grill and we would have friends over for a barbecue. Thinking back, it must have been quite the investment to host so many people serving halal zabiha meat. It still is a struggle finding a meat source that does it right by the standards I’d like to live by. Recently a group of my friends started an email thread discussing what it is to really eat zabiha and halal. Is the meat we buy really zabiha if it isn’t organic? Is it really zabiha if it is still processed in a factory setting? Through the course of the discussion, we came across a group of individuals who have gathered together to offer a product that comes as close to the essence of the word, from their understanding. SimplyNaturalHalal.com

On their website, they state:

“Our scholars of faith mention that whatever we eat affects our ability to worship and our behavior with one another. Eating pure foods will lead us to purer hearts, increased faith, and less susceptibility to the whispers of evil. All of which results in an individual more devoted to God Almighty. By the Grace of God, we now have access to this pure food through Simply Natural.”

I’ve personally been trying to put more of a conscious effort into where I buy my meat and this organization seems like a good option. Take a look at their website and what they have to offer and perhaps in lieu of lunch today, plan a more sustainable iftar for tomorrow.

For when the light shines boldly

the soul jumps forth

Soothed and nourished by the vitamin glow

And when the light shines not at all
The soul seeks energy

elsewhere

My most clear challenge is my ego, as with most reflective folk.  But that thing can be so sneaky, you know? He can be disguised as charity. She can sneak in right when you least expect as you offer the needy some change and glance at those around you. He can creep in as anger when you think you are defending the wronged. She can impose herself upon your tone as you try to offer purely-intentioned advice.

My ego had me in check tonight. I went to pray my evening prayers at a masjid that I so often avoid. I always find myself severely distracted by the space, and the lack of access I have to it. The distraction became anger and my anger became passion and a few years ago, I even ventured to speak out about it by writing an article highlighting the access issue to women in our places of religion.  After the article, I never went back.

I called the space a “penalty box” because of its partitioned walls closing off the back corner of the mosque. The 10 foot barriers blocked the view of the imam. The bland Formica and bare metal wall braces that held it in place clashed so drastically with the ornate Iznik-looking tiles to the point that it was reminiscent of a slop of mud being splashed on one of Monet’s famous water lily masterpieces. In my heart of hearts, I just knew it didn’t belong and it made me feel so much that I didn’t belong.

By never going back, I let my ego take over. I justified my boycott in talk of “rights” and “access” and still maintain my position from an intellectual perspective, but I think that the anger that I felt was my downfall.

I had a small revelation tonight as I stepped through those doors for the first time in a long while. As I swiftly left the open prayer hall for the partitioned corner and said my prayers, a sensation came over me. There is no denying that this is a place of prayer. There is no denying that this place is blessed. That blessing is beautiful. There is so much tangible beauty in this masjid; the walls, the tiles, the calligraphy, the faces of the people who put their foreheads on the floor each day and night.

My ego was not allowing me to enjoy that beauty before. My ego zoomed in auto-focus to the rusty bolts and chaffed wood that blocks my access visually. My ego silenced my heart from hearing the blessings in the words of the Quran as I prayed. My ego turned off my Vision and only allowed me to see the doors I closed myself.

The walls I built myself.

Loss can be so emptying

Holes poke through what was thought a sealed wound

The slightest bit of salt from dried tears burn

Burn bridges, hide memories, stifle futures

Empty the core

So I just got back from a Valentines day party that overlooked the Saudi Embassy. I really enjoy the irony in that scenario. The party was actually the celebration of my dear friends’ parent’s 32 years of marriage. Who would have thought to celebrate such a commercialized holiday in such a sweet and meaningful way? With Kashmiri biryani, Gulab Jamun, and chocolate cake, we celebrated in style.

This got me thinking…

Let’s re-brand all of our holidays! I mean, traditionally, these days of celebration were supposed to be about community and gathering. Let’s rethink our traditions and make new ones that give back a little bit more.  Send flowers to your mom on your birthday! Visit a hospital on St. Patrick’s day! Help raise a barn on the fourth of July (my Midwestern roots are showing.) Volunteer at your local library on Halloween!

There are so many ways to make occasions that seem to have lost all their community value more “together” based.

I know the Tooth Fairy would agree with me… And so would Santa Clause…

Love,

Sarrah

Winter has arrived here in DC. We’re getting our second snowfall, the first was a few weeks ago, but nothing stayed. Now…we’ll have some accumulation. We got word yesterday that we were supposed to get between 10 and 12 inches, and well, we’ve definitely got 12 and it’s still coming.

I got really excited yesterday at work and googled sledding hills in the DC area and found a few to try out. Then, I remembered, I don’t have a sled. That is a problem. Being the city girl that I am these days, I googled “sled rental in the DC area,” to no avail. I only realized afterward how silly that concept is. Sled rental? Who does that?

No worries though, I went back to my resourceful roots and I think I can use the tops of the few under-the-bed Rubbermaid containers we have around the house. They may not be as good as what I’ve experienced in the past, but you know what? These are hard times, we’re in a recession, gosh darnit! Make do! … I’ll let you know how it goes.

Seriously though, the snow is so beautiful. I say that even though my view is the brick wall of the neighboring building. The windowsills are all covered and the little crevices between bricks are getting a white lining. So pretty! Ah, city life.

So, my office moved and I’ve been taking the bus to work these past few weeks. I started taking the metro at first, but it was so impersonal. I really missed my normal walk to work where I said “hi” to the flower guy and saw the same 12 people each morning who pretended not to see a pattern and avoided eye-contact like it was the plague. I miss that. It was kind of a little game to me.  Anyway, I found out that the bus stop right by my house has a route that will take me right to work. How convenient!

The first day I was waiting at the bus stop reading Malcolm X’s Autobiography, (like y’do), and this jogger ran by and screamed, “That is my favorite book! Right on!” I think I looked up and smiled, but I can’t be sure, because I was in a good part of the book, and you know how it is.

There are patterns on my bus route too. The differences is, the people who ride the bus are a million times more friendly than the average person. It’s like being back in the Midwest (I say that kindly). But seriously, the bus driver talks to me, the other riders greet one another like old friends, the little kids high-five one another, and someone baked a batch of cookies and shared it with the whole bus one morning. (Ok, I made the last one up, but really guys, it’s a million times more friendly!)

My favorite part about riding the bus is that I started out as a simple observer but not I’m in on the action. It’s like I graduated. I would get on each morning and watch the interactions with awe.  This one lady and her kid would get on each morning and she would help him with his Chinese homework. They would sing Chinese songs back and forth to each other and it would melt my heart. This other lady just bought her child an new sippy cup that wouldn’t spill as much and she was showing him (and everyone around her) how to use it. My favorite lady, however is the one who helped me break in from being a simple observer, to being an active participant in the daily bus drama.

I first noticed her one morning when she was talking with the bus driver and trying to remember the lyrics to a certain song. She just couldn’t quite place them, and soon the entire front of the bus was trying to remember along with her. Some were humming, others were making faces that indicated they were going through the song catalog in their brain trying to come up with an answer. Soon a number of people were singing along with her to try to help get past that point in the lyrics that no-one could remember. It was hilarious  and I so wished I could be the hero of the day and supply everyone with the answer to their dire question, but alas, my musical literacy is stunted at best and I just sat there observing, once again.

The next morning she got on the bus in a panic. It was a Friday, I think. Thursday night, she had taken a different bus  home than her usual, and because she had to wait an extra half-an-hour, she had set her backpack down and accidentally left it there. She was so sad. Her life had been in that backpack. Her laptop, her last paycheck, her wallet, everything. She got on and asked the bus driver what he suggested she do. He tried to be helpful, but I think he ended up worrying her even more. He told her that after 9/11 suspicious packages left behind were often incinerated. (Not helpful!)  He gave her some phone numbers to try but told her not to hold her breath because during Christmas season, it’s a well known fact that theft is more common and the likelihood of someone turning in anything of value was slim-to-none.

She got off the bus at her usual stop without the normal skip in her walk, and I just felt so bad for her. I thought about her all weekend. I couldn’t get her drama out of my head. I thought of all the possibilities of who might have her backpack and how she might get it back, but kept coming up with the more likely scenario, that she’d never see it again.

On Monday, she got on the bus again and guess what? She had her backpack! I was so excited for her, I couldn’t help but call out to her as she sat down in the seat in front of me. “You found it!”

She looked a little puzzled at me, and then realized I was talking about her backpack, and then went into great detail about what had happened, as if I was her best friend, and not a potentially stalker-ish stranger on the bus. Turns out, an intern at the Lebanese Embassy found the backpack and was going to call her that night but his mom told him to wait it out because it was so late. He called the next day, and brought over the bag that night, untouched, nothing missing, and refused any sort of compensation that she tried to give him.  She was so excited and relieved!  I was just as excited and relieved, and we’ve been friends ever since.

I see her most mornings and we talk about coffee, the weather, holidays, religion, my scarf, her yarmulke, the bus driver, her kids (she’s a pre-school teacher), my work, the forwardness of men who hit on women at bus stops and other such topics as these.

She makes my day, really. I don’t know what it is, but I truly look forward to going to work each day because of her. I think she’s part of my community and doesn’t even know it. I think I’ll tell her come Monday.

The snow is still coming down. I think I’ll go make a batch of muffins to match the mood. I also have to go drag out those Rubbermaid lids if I’m actually going to follow through with this sledding thing. Wish me luck!

Start-up communities have a lot of the same ingredients. The Little Mosque on the Prairie cast of characters kind of sums it up quite well. Each of the characters personifies different members of what makes up the typical early Muslim community in the West, in my experience at least. Looking back into my childhood, I see a lot of those characters, the convert husbands or wives, the engineer Arabs, the Desi uncles, the struggling second generation teens. It’s what makes up our little rainbow of a community.

I’d like to take this opportunity to make a tribute to one of those key members who played such a crucial role in not only what was our little Muslim community, but he also played a key role in helping me develop into the person I am today.

—————————————————————————————————————————-

The other day I smelled the addictive and sweet aroma of pipe smoke and it brought tears to my eyes. The tantalizing scent floated in the November air after being left behind by some imaginary elderly man as I crossed the street on my way home from work. Amo Nu’man used to smoke pipes. I remember our family visiting his and watching as the uncles all gathered together and lit up their respective smoking devices and spoke together in their respective accented English. My father’s Palestinian mannerisms were heard over Amo Nu’man’s Turkish phrasings as they discussed politics and religion, night after night.

Amo Nu’man passed away this month. My heart stopped when I heard the news of his. The brutal fact of mortality came rushing in as I gasped for air and tried to go back in time and erase the last few seconds from my memory.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un

Surely we belong to God and to Him shall we return

Amo Nu’man was that uncle in my life. The one who, once you reached the age of like, 15 started bugging you to get married. In jest, of course. Whenever my family would come over, the conversation would go a little something like this:

“Sarrah! Ya Sarsoora! (an endearing nickname that he started calling me that roughly translates to little cockroach…) What’s this? You aren’t married yet? I’m going to find you a good man, a nice Turkish man, you like this?”

As a 15 year old, I’d blush and shuffle my feet and embarrassingly reply “Oh, Amo…you silly!”

Year after year when we’d go over to the Tugan’s house after Eid prayers, he’d start in again. Soon I learned to roll my eyes and joke back and I developed the ability to deflect his attentions to my older brother. “Why don’t you find someone for Casem, he’s almost an old man.” I thought I had mastered my technique by the time I was about to graduate from high school…but I was wrong.

I guess I really brought it upon myself, but I thought I knew how to play his game. As I was getting my graduation party invitations together, I thought I’d be funny and send him an invite slipped inside a hastily made “wedding” invitation. I slapped together a “The parents of Sarrah invite you to join her in a celebration of Love as she and (I arbitrarily added the name Ahmed Sarsoor to be funny) join together in Marriage” and added the date and time and location of my graduation party, just to make it look a little more real. I really didn’t spend too much time on details I didn’t REALLY want him to fall for it. I think I even put a little clip art picture of a cockroach on the back of the card and in Hallmark fashion wrote something like “Sarsoora Greetings.” Basically, he wasn’t supposed to take it seriously. But he did.

His family members checked the mail and instead of showing him the complete invitation set, they thought they’d play along and just showed him the “wedding” invitation. Amina, his daughter told me that he got excited and so happy that I had “finally found the man of my dreams.” I still laugh at what his face must have looked like.

That night when he went to pray his nightly prayers at our local masjid (mosque), apparently he prayed next to a young gentleman whom he didn’t recognize. After the prayers ended, I’m told he reached over to greet and introduce himself to the newcomer. “Salam! I’m Nu’man. Welcome to the community. What’s your name, where are you from?” I imagine him saying.

And here’s where the story gets funny.

“Wa-salam, I’m Ahmed, Ahmed Sarsoor, from Kentucky. I’m just here visiting family.”

“Oh! You! You’re Ahmed Sarsoor! Congratulations! Ma’shallah! Mabrook! I know her! I know Sarrah and her family. I’m so happy to meet you! The groom. I didn’t think I’d be able to make your acquaintance before the wedding on Saturday. I’m so happy for you!,” Amo Nu’man exclaimed, startling the poor man…who didn’t know that his name was coincidentally part of a small but currently growing joke.

“Oh no,” he insisted, “Um, I don’t know what you are talking about. Who? I think you have me mistaken for somebody else.”

“No, no no no, it’s ok, I’m invited. I know it’s a small wedding, but I watched her grow up. Her family and mine are so close. I know they are private but it is ok, you can tell me.” And Amo went on telling the poor man all about me and watching me grow up and kept on insisting that he always knew I’d marry a Sarsoor (a large family name in the Muslim community where I grew up).

I wonder what that man could have been thinking…poor thing. I know I’d have been confused out of my mind.

That night, Amo went home to tell his family the good news. He told them that he had met my fiance, to which I’m sure they were very confused. I’m told that they tried to tell him that it was all a joke and even showed him the rest of the invitation with the graduation party outlined on it. Oh, I wish I could have been there to see the look on his face when he realized I finally, after all these years, had played a trick on him. (I hadn’t intended it to be so elaborate…but I’m not complaining.)

Apparently, the next night when he went to the masjid to pray, he went up to apologize to the young man for all the confusion. He explained that I had played a trick on him and that the name was just crazily coincidental, and that he had just been duped.

And here’s where the tables turn.

Ahmed Sarsoor had actually come to the area to, you know, “meet” someone, you know, in hopes of marriage. And Amo Nu’man had described me so flatteringly and now he knew that I had a sense of humor and would it be ok if maybe Amo Nu’man introduced the two of us?

My dad got that phone call. He then called me. My stomach dropped. I was just playing a joke! I didn’t want to get married, for real?!? But man, that would make a great “how’d the two of you meet,” story. I agonized for about a day trying to decide whether or not I at least wanted to meet the guy.

My internal dialogue was priceless:

“Should I? I mean, I don’t want to get married now, I’m 18, I’m just about to start college. But it would be nice to start getting to know someone now. But what if he’s weird, I mean… Wait, how old is he? What does he do? Why did Amo have to tell him all about me? Why did I have to be so stupid and choose such a popular name as Ahmed? I mean, What are the chances? That’s just crazy! I mean, it is crazy! Wait, what if it’s meant to be, you know… fate….how fairytale…

sigh

…well…what the heck…it can’t hurt much….”

I agreed to allow Amo Nu’man to bring him to the graduation party.

I remember making that call, I think my dad was in on it and insisted I make it. The “Bwa ha ha ha ha!!!!” that came from the other end of the receiver will be etched in my aural memory forever.

Not to be outdone, Amo Nu’man had turned the joke on me.

Apparently, there really had been a Ahmed Sarsoor. Apparently he really was from Kentucky and Amo had introduced himself after prayers one night and tried to insist on him knowing that he was engaged to me, etc. Apparently, that’s where the real story ends.

He got me, he got me good. I learned not to mess with the master. I’m so honored to be able to hold that story in my heart forever.

Amo Nu’man made impressions on the people he met. He became part of the community in a way that glue connects and holds steadfast through time. He wrapped us all up together and insisted we enjoyed the ride. His constant presence became expected. His easy laugh and shining face became traditions in and of themselves. Though God has taken him back, his noor, his light, will shine in us forever. Anyone who has ever met this jovial man, knows that this is true.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un

Surely we belong to God and to Him shall we return

So I finally broke it to him. I called my dad up today and said, “Baba, I have something to tell you.” He quickly replied, “Are you engaged? Who’s the guy…?” I paused… Well that takes the pressure off, “Nope,” I said, “I’m getting my motorcycle license.”

I signed up to take a safety course in Virginia and I hope to have my license by Thanksgiving so I can get tips and pointers from my grandpa when I go up to visit. Have I mentioned that my grandparent’s are cooler than I am? They are in their 70’s and still biking across the country on motorcycle road-trips with their buddies. It is my goal to reach some level that somewhat resembles how cool they are within my lifetime. In all seriousness, they are an inspiration to me and great scapegoats for situations like this. When I get my license, it’ll be because of the wholesome reason of me wanting to be more like them, not rebellious and risk-taking. My poor parents.

I thought that signing up for motorcycle lessons would be one of the most exciting things that I’d do in a while…but I was wrong. My life was a little too eventful this past week. I can basically go day by day and tell you all insanity that goes on in my life. Actually, that is really self centered of me. This stuff isn’t just going on in my life alone. Many more people were so much more directly affected by the tales I’m about to tell and my heart and prayers go out to each and every one of them.

Monday: My friend Adam took a job with the UN in Pakistan a couple of weeks ago. His wife, Sameerah was in the process of selling their car and subletting their apartment in order to move out there herself in matter of weeks. On Monday morning we woke to the news that the UN office where he worked was attacked by a suicide bombing and he had been injured. This New York Times article gives more details of the situation: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/06/world/asia/06pstan.html. Alhumdulilah, he was able to escape with his life. Last I heard he was going into surgery in Dubai to remove shrapnel.  This event really rocked my world. The events of the world hit so close to home. The news headlines became instantly more relevant. The shock of senseless violence became more personal than ever before. Please keep him and his family and those who were killed in your thoughts and prayers.

Tuesday: Already shaky, because of the previous day’s events, I watched as my coworker was carted off to the ER because she thought she might be having stroke symptoms. Apparently her left arm went numb and she was having trouble seeing. She’s doing fine now (Alhumdulilah) but it was quite the scare for our tiny office. Things just kept getting more and more interesting as the week wore on.

Wednesday: This is the kind of story you don’t tell your parents. So Mom, Baba, stop reading. My dad asked the other day, “Are there any stories that you aren’t telling me, that I’ll find out about later…” This is one of those that falls into the “I don’t want to worry you” category that I was talking about. Any way, it really isn’t that serious, just a little creepy. So my roommate went to the basement to do her laundry late one night and came back with news that there was a sketchy character in the basement. Later when we went to get her laundry (TOGETHER, armed with cell phones, pepper spray, baseball bats and lots of boys) he was still there, this time sleeping. I emailed the management that night to let them know and in the morning they responded telling me that they found him still there at 5 am when the came in to do some maintenance work. I talked with the manager and he said that the man was apparently waiting for a friend to come home. Apparently though, that “friend” had moved out of the apartment building two days earlier and he was the “last of the sketchy people living in the apartment, so there is nothing to worry about.”

Thursday: Believe it or not, nothing of consequence happened on Thursday, unless my idea of “normal” has been so skewed by the previous day’s events that I just can’t recognize it anymore. That’s highly possible.

Friday: Ok, here’s the weirdest…A group of friends and I were on our way back (around 9:00 pm) from dinner at Ben’s Chili Bowl in DC when all of a sudden the cops were everywhere. There were police cars rushing down alleys, there were cops on foot, cops on bikes and most uniquely, cops in helicopters shining spotlights down at us on the street. They were obviously looking for someone. As we quickly made our way back to one of my friend’s houses, we decided to take the back door entrance because it was “faster.”

Too bad this back door entrance was through an alley that cop cars were rushing down. As we headed around the corner into the alley, we remarked about how with all the effort they were putting into looking for this guy, they weren’t doing much. As we paused and let the squad car drive by, we laughed aloud because there were so many crevices and corners that they weren’t looking in and if they’d just get out of the car they could actually search the area properly. Just as we made those comments I rounded the corner into the outdoor stairwell of my friend’s apartment complex and bam!…in front of me was a man…obviously scared and obviously hiding…The shooter (as it were) was staring right back at the few of us who had just rounded the bend, while my friends behind me who hadn’t yet turned the corner were still commenting and joking about “what if he was right here? what would you do? ha ha ha!….silence, as they rounded the corner and saw what I saw… We ended up doing the only thing to do…which was quietly walk on by until we were out of sight and then bolt to my friend’s apartment door. Once inside we all guffawed in relief and called the police. We spent the next hour watching as armed men swarmed the area outside and searched every nook and cranny of the apartment complex to no avail. As they scoured the out of doors, we scoured the internet and news channels for anything on the current episode of “Cops” that was happening right outside the window, also to no avail.

It wasn’t until today that we found any real evidence that we weren’t crazy people making things up. Here’s the only thing we could find alerting anyone of the situation.http://ustreetgirl.wordpress.com/2009/10/11/shooting-at-13th-and-w/ Welcome to DC, where they issue a helicopter for a ground search and there’s nothing on the real news about it!!!

That was my week ya’ll. Can you all write me with the normalcy that makes up your lives? I’d love to see if anyone is able to top my adventures. This isn’t a challenge, I’m just curious and kind of desperate to find out if anyone else has as crazy a life as I do.

Cheerio!,

Sarrah

P.S. I saw a whale carcass in the woods on Saturday…but that’s another story for another time.

This past Sunday a group of the Green Muslims had the opportunity to get out of the city and participate in the traditional autumn activity of apple picking. Having grown up in the Midwest, I (Alhumdulilah) had the opportunity of going on family trips to the orchard and nearby farms to celebrate the season of harvest. One of my fond memories as a child is of spending an entire weekend in the process of apples. There was an orchard behind my grandfather’s farm in Wisconsin and I remember picking the apples in the morning with all my aunts, uncles and cousins and then spending the rest of the day peeling, and cutting and juicing and canning apples into many different delicious appley-end products. As I watched the trees slowly turn color and the air slowly grow more crisp and cool as I walked to work each day in the city, I felt the urge to escape the busy day to day schedule that I’ve created for myself here in DC, and head out to the country to revisit those childhood experiences.

With help from friends and gracious hosting by Kevin and Munjed the day was soon planned.

I woke with little effort the morning of, even though it was an hour or so before I normally would have. I was motivated by the promise of Belgian waffles and a breakfast gathering of new and old friends alike. Earlier in the week I had sent out an email asking if anyone wanted to come along with me to an orchard in Virginia. After receiving an overwhelming response of over 22 people, the event basically planned itself. As we all crammed into Kevin and Munjed’s apartment and feasted on the potluck breakfast, we started off with introductions and I learned that over half the people there had never been apple picking before (I also learned what kind of animal they would want to be as that was the other icebreaker question).

The orchard was only an hour drive away through the hills of Virginia. Though the leaves had not reached their peak colors, the drive was amazingly beautiful and a perfect prelude to a day in the country. The farther we got from the city, the clearer the sky seemed to get. The closer we got to the orchard, the slower time seemed to move. Perhaps it is the schedule I’ve created for myself, or perhaps it’s just the culture of DC, but one of the things I’ve noticed is that people have stopped noticing things around them. People don’t comment on the weather unless it is to complain about the heat or remind a coworker to take an umbrella in case of the notorious DC showers. People literally do not stop to smell the roses, or the other hundreds other flowering plants that grace DC’s streets. Even though our surroundings are so abundant with gifts, it takes a day’s sabbatical to allow us to count the blessings we do have.

The orchard helped remind me of those blessings. It reminded me of all the friends I have who jumped at the opportunity to share the day together. It reminded me of the blessings of being able to exit the city and experience a new environment, a blessing that perhaps not all of my neighbors can enjoy. It reminded me of the miraculous Earth that God created with nutrients and ingredients to sustain mankind. It reminded me of the blessings of my childhood and the blessings of my family.

Together with the other DC Green Muslims I enjoyed learning about the different apples and terrains on which they grow. We picked bushels and bushels to bring back to the city. We purchased cider and apple butter and learned of the different flavors of honey that come frome the orchard depending on which field the bees visit. We learned what poison ivy looked like, but (Inshallah) avoided learning what it feels like.

Soon our time there came to an end, and a group gathered together to pray noon prayers on top of a hill that overlooked much of the farm. As we gave our supplications to our Creator, we were reminded of how close we are to the rest of His creation. As we whispered the chapters of the Quran, the trees whispered along with us. As we bowed our heads in the grass, it bowed along with us as it tickled our faces. As we thanked our Creator for all the blessings He has bestowed upon us, it felt as if the entire Earth was in synch.

Below I’ve shared a number of Apple recipes that my mom gave me for all those who, like me, still have an enormous amount of apples at home.

APPLE BUTTER– Place 1 quart of applesauce in a heavy bottomed (cast iron) pot and continue cooking over low heat for several hours until the sauce turns brown. Stir often so that it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pot. Variation: Cook with the apples- 2c apple juice/cider (instead of the water when making the applesauce) 1/2c honey 2t cinnamon 1t cloves 1/2t allspice dash of salt juice & grated rind of a lemon Apple Butter will be fine refrigerated for up to 2 months or you can freeze or can it. A no-fuss, no-stir way to cook the apple butter down would be to use a slow cooker, on a slow boil, with the lid ajar, overnight. (protect the surrounding counter top from sticky splashes with towels) No cook applesauce 2T fruit juice (lemon, orange, lime, apple) 3 apples, washed, cored, unpeeled 2T honey Sprinkle of cinnamon, (optional) Wash, peel and cut apples into chunks.   Blend juice and one apple in blender, add remaining apples, seasonings and blend again. Pour into a glass and enjoy! Remember to say “Bismillah!”

Ramadan has come and gone. I met only a few of the resolutions that I made for myself at the beginning of the month. One of them was to dress nicely. This was inspired by my Aunt Samreen.  She told me I’d never get married dressing the way I do. I’m not sure what I was wearing the day that she told me that, probably my baggy sweatshirt. Ironically, just the other morning I was walking to work and for some reason I looked down at my outfit and laughed to myself thinking that I bet if she saw me now she’d shake her head and tell me something to that effect.  Subhanallah! No joke, just as the thought left my head, she called me. She called me across time zones, across oceans, and thousands of miles from Ramullah, Palestine at that very moment.  I answered the phone laughing and shaking my head as I turned around and went home to change.

So, I dressed more “nicely” and  I got through reading about three quarters of the Quran. Not exactly my goal, but now I have the resolution to finish the rest of it bit by bit each night. I’ll have you know that I tried my hardest to get through it all by the end of the month but I kept getting interrupted.

Last Friday I was sitting in the park reading a few chapters when a man walked up to me and asked where the Bank of America was. I told him I didn’t know after glancing around to see if it was nearby. He apparently wasn’t only interested in the Bank of America because he then proceded to ask me if I was Muslim. I nodded, that yes I was and he further inquired as to whether I was fasting or not. I told him I was, and he said, “oh, you are almost done right? A couple more weeks?” I answered that no, in fact, there were only a few more days left.

It would have been nice if the conversation had ended there, but alas, it did not. I noticed just as he began his next sentence that his entire demeanor changed. It was almost as if he said to himself in his head, ” Ok, here goes, put the smooth on, try this one out.” as he said, “So…what do you think about calling me up and celebrating your holiday with me?”

I looked up from my book…gave him a quizzical look and then proceeded to read…thinking to myself, “enough of this dressing nice thing!” But then I realized I was in my baggy sweatshirt as I had failed at that resolution when getting dressed in the morning.

He pressed on. “So…do you think you could do that? Do you think you could give me a call and we could celebrate together?” To which I replied. “No” and smiled as I went back to my book. The poor man… I think he got the “hint” then. As he turned to leave, he said the oddest thing. He pointed at me, chuckled and said, “You…you are a good girl. You are a nice lady.” I guess I passed that test.

I might have gotten a few more chapters read if not for him. But really, I’m the only one to blame when it comes to not completing all of my Ramadan resolutions. Despite this fact, I feel very satisfied with my efforts. I really had a great month. Though the days were long and I was mentally spent by the end of each one, I feel as if I tried harder to milk it for all it was worth than any other year. There are blessings in being able to organize your time more freely. When at home, you are bound by the schedule of your family, when in school, you are bound by the schedule of your syllabus. When single and living “alone”, it really becomes your own fault when you can’t find time to do the things you need to do. For example, practice for the GRE and update your blog.  Ahem…

So I spent Eid away from my family this year. I was really anxious about doing that, because it’s such a family time of year, or it should be, in my opinion. In order to chase away those invading feelings of lonliness and homesickness, I resolved to continue my family’s traditions away from home. When we were growing up each of my siblings chose a cookie recipe (mine was gingersnaps) and we made dozens and dozens of cookies and wrapped them all up and gave them as Eid gifts to all of our family friends.

So this year, on the last day of Ramadan, I ran to the store and bought some molasses and the rest of the supplies (except for ginger powder…I somehow forgot the ginger powder, you know, that powder you put in GINGER snaps?), and went home to bake a batch to give to my friends. It felt right. It felt Eid-like and it made me realize how important (to me) these little traditions are. It made me so thankful to have grown up in such an intentional family. It made me so grateful to have such great parents who thought about these things. It made me more homesick than I was before…

I got lucky though. I was invited by a friend to celebrate Eid day with a community out in Maryland. I could go on all day about them but I shouldn’t because you’ve probably stopped reading already. I think the best way to explain the community of people is like this: You know that person who is always doing doing doing? Always working to better everything for everyone. They are the first to arrive, the last to leave. They have the minivan filled with everything you could ever want or need. They are always on hand with a bandaid, or a frisbee or a magnifying glass. You know that person? Well this group was completely filled with people just like that person.

Many of them homeschooled their little blond half Iranian, half American children. Many of them had brought fresh vegetables and homemade apple crisp to the potluck brunch. Many had blasted Dawuud Wharnsby Ali and Native Deen nasheeds on their way to the community center where they held the Eid prayer. Many were still singing along as they decorated the room with prayer rugs, Eid banners and colorful cards. Many had carefully hand made a gift to give in the family gift exchange. And many had won my heart as I helped set up tables and laid out rugs with this constantly moving group of, what I felt were like-minded people.

Needless to say, I spent the entire day with them. It was the best gift I could ask for. If I couldn’t be home with my own family, this was the best second best ever. I’m so happy to have met them and I’ve already started petitioning them to all move closer to the city so I can be nearer to them and their warmth and light.

So that was my Eid. I look forward to heading home this coming weekend to spend some quality time with my real family. I already bought my item for our family gift exchange. I can’t wait to blast some DWB and Native Deen with my brother, Zeki on our road trip up to my grandparents next weekend.  It’s amazing how you can find similar people all over the world. It’s nice to know what I’m attracted to. Thanks mom… I think it’s your fault.

God willing we’ll all be able to share another great Ramadan together. May all your thoughts and prayers be answered. May your lives be blessed and may you always be happy.

Sarrah

I want to be that girl…

that one who walks into a room and conquers it

I want to be that girl

who pulls respect out of the deepest of crevices

I want to be that girl

who is the matriarch of a meritocracy

who leaves people satisfied

whose absence is noticed and presence is missed

I want to be that woman

who stands her ground

who lets things slide

and has the peace of mind and intuition to know when to do what

I want to be that woman

who lights up the world

I want to be that woman

whose smile cures illness

whose caress heals open wounds

whose embrace ends evil

I want to be that woman

Friends,

Wow, it’s been a while. Sorry, about that. Well, I’m still here. MPSN took over my life this summer and wow, did time fly. I can’t believe it’s already September tomorrow. I’m not ready for that. I mean, I still want to wear white and labor day is around the corner…and you know how much of a fashionista I am. Gawd, it’s so limiting.

I suppose a lot has happened since I wrote last. I mean, Casem, my older brother got married, that’s sort of big. He had a little courthouse ceremony in NY with plans of a reception next summer. Hasan (younger brother) flew out to the East Coast for the occasion and him and I were able to attend. It was so nice. After the minute-and-a-half-ceremony-by-a-bubble-gum-chewing-justice-of-the-peace, we walked all around New York City taking pictures and just having an all around good time. We had dinner at this Korean Grill and spent the evening eating wedding cupcakes in Central Park. It was a marvelously simple, yet just perfect for them. I’m so happy I was able to make it.

So, about the rat. Listen kids, it started raining a couple of weeks ago at the MPSN house where I was helping pack up the last of the house. We (Mrs.K and I) noticed that there was this board covering the drain outside and the last time that happened we had a flood in the basement. So, I headed outside in the pouring rain and reached down in the little gully area to pick up the board and….much to my dismay, the rat jumped out at me and proceeded to run right at me, (dumb rat)…I’m embarrassed to say I screamed, so Mrs. K ran out to see what was the matter and the dumb animal proceeded to run after her! The two of us ended up screaming and laughing in the rain for the next few minutes. I have been having bad luck with animals jumping out at me as of late.

In other news, Ramadan started a couple weeks ago. It’s honestly been kind of rough. I think it’s because it’s been so hot here (in the 80’s for the most part, with high humidity). I feel like such a slug by the end of the day and I have no appetite, I just want WATER! It’s actually been kind of an experience having Ramadan in the summer again. I was so used to it being around the Holidays that I’m craving egg nog and Christmas Carols in August. Weird. More seriously though, it’s been interesting actually struggling to fast.

I mean, not gonna lie, it’s pretty easy to fast when you are breaking at like 4:30-5 ‘o-clock…this 8 PM business is a whole new ball game. In an odd way, it’s kind of refreshing finding hardship in this spiritual experience. I feel like I’m actually fulfilling something here. It’s hard to explain…but sometimes it’s just good when things are hard.

The Ramadan culture here in DC is great. There are so many iftar (evening meal) programs all over the city and beyond. Already I’ve been out to Maryland to the Iranian mosque and I’ve been to an Italian and a Pakistani and a Sudanese restaurant. I have plans to go to the Georgetown and the George Washington University MSA sponsored iftars this coming week. I even got an invite to go to the Capitol Hill iftar later this month (I’m not that special, everyone gets invited.) The problem with all this awesomeness is I’m not with my family. I’m not going to be able to make it home at all this Ramadan and it’s kind of killing me. This’ll be the first time ever that that’s happened. Though my awesome fam is irreplaceable, I have found quite the community of friends out here. Well, saying found might be a stretch…So you know how I moved out here in February? Well a bunch of my college friends from UW have found themselves on this side of the country as well. Also, a bunch of people I met in Egypt are for some reason all living in DC now. It’s crazy how our life-paths keep crossing. It’s really nice to have a core group of friends from other parts of my life so close at hand. I keep telling them that it was really nice of them to follow me out here. They keep telling me not to flatter myself. 🙂

A bunch of us actually all went out to a 24hour IHOP the other day for sahoor (the morning meal) at like 3:30 in the morning. It was crazy-fun. One of those friends from both my Wisconsin crowd and my Egypt crowd is my friend Mona (she’s the one I stayed with while in Cairo). She’s moved out here to look for work and is staying with her sister. They invited us over for iftar the other night and it happened to coincide with an all-day interview Dalia was doing for the Al-Arabia news channel. See, Dalia’s kinda famous because she co-wrote Who Speaks for Islam?: What a Billion Muslims Really Think with John Esposito and she’s also a White House advisor. Oh, she also has two of the cutest kids in the whole entire world.

Ok, so I brought all that up to tell you a funny story. So this camera man and an interviewer were at the house while we were breaking fast taking shots of the evenings happenings. They zoomed in as my friend Rizwaan did the call to prayer, they zoomed in as Dalia walked down the stairs after washing for prayer, and they zoomed in as we all stood in rows and started praying. It is my hope that they then stopped filming (and thank God they were filming in front of us) because just as I bent down to prostrate, the air vent that I happened to be praying on top of started blowing out AC and up went my skirt!! I had to stifle a giggle as I grabbed at my clothes. Seriously…I mean, that stuff can happen to anyone…but on international television?…That only happens to me. I’m really excited to hear what you all have been keeping busy with. I know lots are in the midst of Ramadan as well. I hope that is going well for you. Let me in on any tips for hydration! Keep in touch!

-Sarrah

Goooood Morning!

MPSN (The Muslim Public Service Network) has once again, taken over my life. It’s a good thing though. Being around such amazing people always inspires me to get my act in gear and move forward with my life. I’m RA-ing for these kids (a couple are older than me, I shouldn’t be calling them that) and they are great. It’s a group of 11 of us living in two sections of a house. They come from all over the United States and ethnically the backgrounds range from Britian to Malaysia, to America, to India, to Pakistan, to Afghanistan, to Egypt, to Bangledesh. It’s a great range of cultures, ideas, perspectives and most importantly, recipes.

I’m really enjoying the discussions surrounding loyalties to soccer teams (America just beat Egypt, and it was painful to watch the agony of our Egyptian American fellow) and loyalties to regions of the United States. We’ve got a pretty decent Midwestern crew that has stuck together through these hard times.

In fact the quote below started a over 100 email chain reaction for and against the concepts outlined below: “After a long and hard deliberation these past few days I have come to but one conclusion. Wisconsin is not as bad as many of us in the MPSN house have made it out to be, quite the contrary. It is a place full of luster, joy, happiness, and nice friendly people. Wisconsin like Michigan and like much of the Midwest, has not lost its idyllic sense of all American homeliness (I think he meant to say homey-ness, not homeliness) that makes this country great. This is not to say that we are a backwards people. We are a people with a connected sense of warmth that much of this country has long forgotten, coupled with a forward thinking progressive attitude that places us smack dab in the middle of the American Dream. In fact the Midwest is the American Dream, every other part of the country is just emulating. Wisconsin and Michigan are neighbors, and I am glad that this is the case.”

I hope you all enjoyed that. I know I did. The retort from the East and West Coasties of the group were hilarious, as I’m sure you can imagine. The interactions in the house are not much different. Each night after work and class, we all get together and cook and clean and share and bond and it’s such a great platform of exchange of ideas, opinions and perspectives. I have learned so much in such a short amount of time and I love every minute of it.

I can’t believe that once again, my summer is almost half-way over. Time has a seriously bad habit of just running away from me. Speaking of time and life and how short it is and can be, I’d like to touch on the tragedies that befell the DC area these past few weeks. First, we had the shooting at the Holocaust Museum which shook me to the core. I don’t know what it is, perhaps all my encounters with belligerent people who seem to have something against me personally, because they connect what I look like with an overarching stereotype. The fact that one man just up and went on a shooting spree based upon his twisted idea of right and wrong scares the living daylights out of me. It was such a weird day for me. I had just finished texting all of the fellows in the program who worked on the Hill to stay indoors because there was news of a shooter on the loose. I then went outside to have my lunch in a park and as I was sitting there on the phone, a man walked by and started yelling profanities at me (Go %^&*-ing home, etc, etc) and then he took his hands and put them in the shape of a gun and yelled “BAM! BAM!” as he pretended to shoot me.

Though the entire instance is completely ridiculous, what makes it so much worse, is that no one, not ONE person around me did anything or said anything, to the man or to me. I feel like all I do is complain about this kind of stuff happening to me, but please don’t take this as a complaint. I feel I need to write about it so that people know what is going on. It’s stuff like this, it’s people like that, that go unwatched, unchecked, unquestioned on the street and turn into the man who takes a gun into a museum and shoots up a place. Or maybe I’m overreacting…but I know I had no idea how to react when I was in the situation.

Also, as I’m sure you’ve heard, there was a fatal train accident on the Metro this past week. I (alhumdulilah), was not on the train, though that was on the same line I take to get home. It has truly changed the dynamics of the city. The buses are packed, the front and back cars of the metro are significantly less full. (I know I’ve self-selected out of them a couple of times, subconsciously). The trains are being driven on manual power and are so much slower as they come into the station. The biggest difference is the level of patience that people seem to have. I’ve never been is such a tight space and not had someone lose their temper. Last Tuesday I, not thinking, took the metro home from work and ended up in the most sardine-like experience of my life. Some one’s hand was on top of mine on the pole, my body was squished up against probably four others, nobody was making eye contact, and I saw so many people’s lips move in prayer (or…whispering along to their i-pods). It was a very surreal experience…much like I imagine Hajj is going to be like (minus the i-pods, I hope). On a more serious note. Mortality is definitely close on every one’s mind here. Everyone knows that those 9 people, could have been them. It’s amazing what that does to the human psyche. People treat each other differently…make different decisions about their interactions. It’s so interesting…and in some ways, comforting.

Contemplating the Human Condition,

-Sarrah

Salam Ya’ll,

I’ve developed a southern’ twang being here so long. No, I haven’t. They still make fun of how I say bag (pronounced bay-g). But, I have officially reached my one year anniversary in DC…well, kind of. I mean, if you don’t count those 4ish months I was traveling abroad, it’s officially been a year June 1st. It’s hard to imagine. It feels so long ago, but really it’s not, it’s just that people in my life keep growing up, moving on, getting engaged etc. Speaking of…the biggest news of my life is that my two brothers (on either side of me, the thirteen-year-old one is still single) have found themselves engaged within a month of one another. Good thing I really really really like the ladies they’ve chosen (see pictures), otherwise I might be a tad overwhelmed by it all…oh wait, I still am (in a good way).

In other news, I’m still at the Washington Scholarship Fund and have picked up another seemingly full-time job with MPSN (the Muslim Public Service Network). That’s the program that brought me out to DC in the first place. I was hired as the RA for the summer program and have since spent most of my free-time setting up the house, organizing the programing, unclogging mulberry filled drains in knee-deep water in the middle of thunderstorms and other, you know…normal activities. The new class of interns have almost all arrived and I was able to put my skills as a Girl Scout camper/employee to good use when planning the orientation that was held last weekend. It’s always fun to transfer fun-ness from one aspect of life to another. I’m really enjoying this year’s class. They are from all over and it is bound to be an interesting summer filled with great conversation, growth and laughs! In other news, I think I found my most favorite place to experience spring. DC is marvelous when it comes to flora. Each day I’d walk to work and have a whole new array of blossoms to ponder. At home, I think I knew what everything was named…I need to get myself a book for this side of the country! I have no clue what some of these flowers are! I’ve also had a close run-in with the fauna.

So…they have snakes on this side of those mountains. I was hiking at Great Falls national park the other day and one almost made a sandwich out of my ankle. After leaping away as it lunged for me (all that tai kwon do osmosis from having 4 black-belted siblings has really helped), I took a few pictures to figure out just how close I was to pain, death, etc and found out it was a Northeastern water snake (see picture). Apparently not poisonous, but painful. I’ll be more careful next time. 😀

And finally… cow tipping. I never thought I’d have to have a serious conversation about such a silly concept, but sigh…these East Coaster’s just don’t know their stuff. Over brunch a couple of weeks ago, I was burdened with the responsibility of correcting their misconceptions about cow-tipping. I explained (ahem, *pushes glasses up on nose) that for one: cow’s don’t sleep standing up. For two: cows are huge and cannot be tipped by just pushing them over. And three: a cow WILL hear you coming and bolt if you come near it. When no one believed my cold hard facts, I resorted to wikipedia.com…which only confirmed my correctness. The trouble is…all this did nothing to help them stop making fun of me for being from Wisconsin. What can I say, I know my stuff and I love my state!

-Sarrah

Yes, indeed. Sometimes my life amuses me so much. I had plans to go home last weekend over the Memorial Day break and I ambitiously booked a 6:45 AM flight out of Baltimore. The problem is, I live in DC and Baltimore is about a30-45 minute trek out of town. The earliest train I could find was a 5:25 and so I set out (after about 2 hours of sleep) from Union Station on a bright and shiny Saturday morning.

Twenty minutes and a slight “thunk” later, I was sitting on the halted Amtrak, not sure what was going on. The power shut down, the smell of burning rubber filled the air and a stewardess came running through our train yelling “I’ll answer your questions laterrrrrr!”

I soon found out that we’d hit a deer and ruined the brake system somehow. While my heart was going out to Bambi, I was in the process of missing my flight home. How does this happen? At first I was extremely frustrated, until I realized that with things like this, God is so evidently present, I have nothing to question. I couldn’t help laughing at the fact that I woke up at 4:30 to get as much time at home crammed in. It was a humbling lesson in planning. It reminds me of that old, perhaps Yiddish, saying that goes, “We plan and God laughs.” I was totally feeling that I needed to let everything go, back to my “Bismillah” mentality that I learned oh, so well in Egypt. It was definitely being tested here.

As the minutes ticked away, we found out that another train was coming to get us. About a half-an-hour later it arrived and we readied ourselves to exit. As we lined up near the doors the crew members  (who handled everything very calm and professionally) smiled as they warned, “Whatever you do, do not touch both trains at the same time. You will be electrocuted.” If I wasn’t awake then, I was now. Ah, it’s times like these that make me so thankful to be alive!

As we all squished into the second train, fellow passengers started to share their  collective woes. Nobody gets up that early on a Saturday morning if they aren’t trying to get somewhere important. “My flight was at 7:25, I’ll never make it,” said one. “Mines at 7:30, guess I’ll just sign the guest book and go to the reception. Weddings are boring anyway,” said another as we all chuckled and shook our heads. All of a sudden the roar of a plane engine passed over head. I smiled and pointed, “There goes my 6:45.” Everyone guffawed in sympathy as we shared a moment.

When we finally got to the airport- a second train, and shuttle bus later- I got to experience my first stand-by flight procedure. I checked in and was given a boarding pass with ?? written in the seat number slot. I got into the mile long Memorial-day-weekend security line just behind a lady who was telling her granddaughter how she’d just read an article about how “those bad people…those uneducated Arabs had single-handedly taken down the security and financially bankrupted America with box-cutters.” I avoided eye-contact and pretended I couldn’t hear.

I got through security with minimal prodding. They were mostly interested in feeling my hair this time, so they scrunched my scarf a bit. I think they should have been more worried about the guy behind me with a nuclear explosion tattooed on the back of his arm. Maybe it’s just me, but it seems he has more of a commitment to mayhem than my paisley patterned scarf. They also asked me to pronounce my last name. I assume this question arose because some poor soul had to announce my name over the loudspeaker a couple of hours earlier when I missed my flight.  I laugh at the thought.

Then came the wait. It was pretty uneventful except for the fact that I downed a bunch of coffee in fear of falling asleep. The fun started happening again about a half-an-hour before the flight. First, they moved the gate to the other end of the terminal (naturally). Trying to be on top of things, I made sure to follow the directions I’d been given and waited until “10 minutes before boarding” to go up to the counter to check to see if there were any seats left. I did so, and was instructed to go back to the previous terminal because their computer system wasn’t linked. Ahhh!

As I ran over there, I couldn’t tell if I was shaking from the frustration or the caffeine. I’ve determined it was a combo, probably exacerbated by the crazy-cold Airport AC temperatures.

I waited in yet another line and watched as the guy in front of me got chastised for missing his flight earlier that morning. I mustered up the courage not to break down balling when my turn arrived. Meanwhile, my flight was supposed to have taken off 5 minutes ago. I think the guy took one look at my big brown (almost tear- filled) eyes and took pity. All I had to say as I handed him my stand-by slip was, “My train hit a deer and I missed the flight.” He gave me an odd look, punched something in the computer and said, “There you are girly, now go catch your flight.”

Alhumdolilah (Praise be to God) I did.

Naturally I got the middle seat… all the way at the back of the fully loaded flight so everyone and their mother could get a good long look at me as I squeezed my way down the aisle. Sometimes I wish I could read minds, this was NOT one of those times.

Again, I’m sure it was no coincidence I missed that flight. If nothing else, it’s been a lesson in patience and humility. A reminder of a Greater Planner. It definitely gave me time to sit down and reflect, and perhaps that’s exactly what I needed. The Arabic phrase that comes to mind is “Allah-hu-Alim” God is the All Knowing. It is what it is, and I’m still here to tell my story. That’s more than I can say for the deer.

I’m tired of this. I am.

I mean, it makes for a great story, but I’m tired of it.

Perhaps its my scarf, perhaps it’s my walk, perhaps it’s my sex, perhaps its my talk. But people feel welcome and driven to comment.

Thank God, for putting a stopper on my tongue. Thank God for slowing my speech and blessing me with the feeling of shock and incredulity every time it happens. If I were a bit more witty, I might have ended up in a lot of trouble. If I were a bit more daring, I might have ended up with more than a swollen lip from biting down on it too hard.

Some are just plain funny, like that time in the parking lot when that guy yelled across to his girlfriend pointing and picking up his jaw from the asphalt, “HOLY COW, is that an A-Rab?,” To which I responded, “sort of,” – being only half, I knew not what else to say.

Some, I’ve realized are a bit traumatizing. My earliest memory of commentary was as a nine year old. I wore my scarf to our local Wal-mart and a bunch of kids pointed at me and call me “towel head.”  All I wanted was sour patch kids, and they ruined my day. I mean, I suppose I hadn’t perfected the fashion of scarf wearing, but I didn’t think it looked that bad.

I’d forgotten this memory up until recently when I was putting together my work Yahoo Avatar. I couldn’t find suitable headgear and I didn’t think the bald look suited me, so I resorted to the just out of the shower, literal towel head. I changed it soon after the memories flooded in.

Some are normal. The, “my you speak English so well,” and “where are you from?” comments are to be expected. They come with the territory and it always blows people away when you say “I’m from here,” “Yep, my mom’s American too,” “Yep, she’s Muslim, yep she wears this ‘thing on her head’ too, yep I grew up here, yep yep yep.” Altering paradigms has become a past time of mine. This doesn’t bother me.

This does.

I don’t need you yelling “JIIIIIIIIIHAAAAAAAAAD!!!!” from your car as you nod knowingly at me. I don’t need you surrounding me on the street with your buddies and saying, “Nice Babushka,” or “Hey look, a suicide bomber,” or “Hey woman!, get 5 feet behind me!” or “Go listen to your man, ALLAHUAKBAR- BOOOOOOOM!”

I don’t need that.

I also don’t need you making kissy faces at me, or asking if I’m married, or for my phone number all because you said Salam  to me on the street to which I replied “Peace be upon you as well.” I acknowledged you because you greeted me as a Brother, what else was I supposed to do?

It won’t stop, I know this. I’m baffled at how common it is though. I’ve analyzed my facial expressions, my walk, my skin color, my dress, my religion, my head scarf, my smile, and I still can’t come up with anything I’d like to change.

I’m cool with me, and I’m sorry if that bothers you. Keep ’em coming, I’m learning to take it like a champ.

Ok, I have a confession. Today I bought a rasperry mocha just because an advertisement told me to. It looked so good, and I’ll have you know, it was. Only a few times in my life have I experienced non-false advertising. It’s been such a long time since the picture on the side of a bus, or on a cafe’s bathroom wall (as it were), actually met my expectations.  It was a lovely start to a lovely evening.

I was invited to a program called The Night’s of Sawa out in Virginia.  A bunch of people from the city zip-carred it out there and experienced a genuine evening of raw beauty. Amonst the performers were the likes of the famous, the rising stars and not to be forgotten, a number of children between the ages of eight and eleven.  It reminded me of being back at home with my homeschooling group for talent night. You had the first timers, reading off of a carefully printed and practiced scripts. You had the brave ones reading off of napkins on which they’d just scribbled a few inspired lines. And you had the old timers, rolling rythems like they were born to rhyme.

Though I didn’t share anything myself, I felt inspired by the words and the gumption of each of the performers. Mashallah, there’s a lot of talent out there. It was such a beautiful platform and I can’t wait to find my own words to share in the future Inshallah.  My favorite moment of the evening was when a young child proudly marched to the mic and said, “I’m going to read a poem about the Day of Judgement, then a poem about orange soda.” And he did just that. He warned of the ends of time, the fear, the passing of judgement from the Lord on high, and then went on to discuss how much he loved orange soda…and just like that, he was done. I still can’t stop smiling about that, it made my night.

*cough cough

It’s getting a little crazy out there. Pigs are flyin’, fat ladies are singing, and all that jazz. This swine flu has so many people in such a tizzy. I mean, not to belittle the situation, I understand it’s serious and it’s something we should be thinking about and protecting ourselves and others from, but seriously…

I mean, I coughed on the metro the other day because something got stuck in my throat and you wouldn’t believe the stares I got. Daaaaang! People shrank away in fear. And all it was was one of those pathetic, polite “ahem” coughs, and I even covered my mouth. Seriously! It is getting out of control.

I walked to work the other day and glanced down at the newspaper stand and caught a glimpse of an article about how they are spraying down the public transportation system with some sort of chemical to keep the flu bug at bay. I mean, I used to be freakishly on top of sanitizing my hands after getting out of the Metro because of how gross it can get, but now…I think I’ll have to find some sort of organic cleanser to get all the chemicals out of my system. Excuse me while I start my 3 day fast to re-boot my system.

Some people are taking it all in stride though. The other day I passed this lady on the street wearing a leopard print face mask, to match her leopard print shoes, of course. I mean, if your gonna go through a pandemic, might as well go through it in style. This inspired me. Check out this website and add a few to your collection: http://www.japantrendshop.com/japanese-face-mask-protect-against-swine-flu-fashion-p-503.html

To quote the website:  “In Japan face masks have a long culture and you can basically find them in any style and with multiple functionalities. But most of them have one thing in common…they are ugly and make you look completely dumb.”

Not anymore! I mean, my first thought was to totally getting a polka-dot one to match my polka-dot scarf. I was even thinking of getting alternating polka-dots, like blue on white for the mask to match my white on blue shirt that I wear all the time. I was getting so excited about the prospects when all of a sudden it hit me! I need not spend the 68 dollars plus shipping and handling all the way from Japan! I just need to become a niqabi!

So all you gal’s out there contemplating putting the scarf on for religious reasons go one step further. For all you gal’s out there contemplating a next step in your religious growth, think not only of your spirit, think of your health…protect yourself from swine flu while at the same time steppin’ it up religiously. Join me in my fashionable endeavor to be religiously healthy and healthily religious.

…or you can get those really cool star-studded face masks from Japan…that’d be cool too.

*For all those ladies who wear niqab for religious reasons, more power to you. I hope I in no way offend through my playful banter.

Wa-alaykom-Salam,

Sarrah

So, I’ve been in DC for a while. Kind of left the posting world and joined the job world. The cherry blossom’s have come and gone and spring and summer are fighting for their place in the weather. It was 100 degrees this weekend and I saw my breath as I ran home in the rain yesterday.

I was inspired to start writing again. I wasn’t really sure how to keep up a travel blog post travel, but I guess this isn’t really a travel blog. It’s a me blog and here I am, still existing so I shall continue to write, ‘cuz the stories keep happening.

Living in DC has been enjoyable. Working at a non-profit has been rewarding. Some days I wake up and forget that I’m not in college anymore. Other days I forget that I’m not in Egypt anymore, but then I see Obama’s motorcade and I’m brought back to reality.  I saw him fly in the other day, which was a loud endeavor, what with 3 or 4 helicopters circling over head. I guess it could have been Biden, I suppose, but I’ll pretend it was Obama just for my storytelling credibility.

Speaking of stories, this one has been floating through my thoughts lately. So, everyday I walk pretty much the same path to work and back. Every morning there’s this little old man who sets up a flower stand on the sidewalk and sells flowers all day long. I know because on my way home he’s there as well. I’ve nodded hello a couple of times but up until recently we haven’t exchanged words or even eye contact.

About a month ago I had a dream. It was very vivid because it started just as I start every day. Passing the flower man on the street on my way to work. All of a sudden there is this drive by shooting and I jump in front of the flower man, whom I’ve never even spoken to, and know nothing about, and take a bullet for him. And there, as I sit bleeding on the sidewalk, in my dream, I’m thinking to myself, “why did I do that? I don’t even know the guy. Why am I dying for this man I don’t even know?” (which is terrible by the way…I still feel terrible about dream-thinking that as I’m dream-dying). So there. That was my dream. I’m still trying to analyze it.

I couldn’t make eye-contact with the poor man for weeks but I bought flowers from him today. I was going to a friend’s birthday dinner and on my way home and so I stopped and decided to buy a bouquet. As I picked out my purchase he looked me up and down and said, “You, Pakistani?” I shook my head no, “Afghani?” he questioned again. I said no…and told him my half-half origins and then he was like, “oh Philistine!, I am Afghanistan, As-Salamoalaykom!”

Remarkable. That’s all I have to say.  Still analyzing.

Hey guys,

I’m home. I would’ve written yesterday but I don’t think I was mentally capable. My trip home was a rather long one. Over 24 hours if you count the moment I stepped out of Mona’s house in Madinat Nasr, Cairo, Egypt, to the moment I stepped foot into my family’s home in Saukville, Wisconsin, USA. But I did it! And I’m home.

I left at around 7 pm in Cairo and we spent almost an hour in traffic, which was a great sending off, really. I don’t know what I would have done if it had been easier. Probably would’ve been disappointed. We got to the airport and I piled my luggage onto a cart, insisting I push it myself and avoiding all the “helpful” hands of the men who want that extra backsheesh (tip). I’ve become really good at avoiding eye contact, insisting “no, no, no, no! I’m really ok, I want to do this by myself, Get Your Hands Off my STUFF!, shookran (thank you) J.”

As I lobbed my suitcases full of Egypt onto the first of what felt like hundreds of security belts, one of my zippers popped! And a few items spilled onto the floor and one rolled under the security contraption. I thought to myself, “this is a good sign.” I sighed, pulled my stuff to the side wondering where all those “helpful” men were now, and worked at re-zippering the broken zipper. I got it to zip again, and said one more “Bismillah” as I sent it through security. I was basically positive that I’d arrive in Chicago with a few less kilos of stuff, but really had no other plan of action. (Why didn’t I put the duct tape in my pocket? What was I thinking?)

So yeah…I managed the first check-point (as I began to call them in my head), and headed to the next, the place where I needed to check my bags. This was also a bit of fun. Thank God my two checked pieces of luggage weren’t overweight, but I caused some trouble with my carryon. They were pretty sure it was too big in size to be considered a carry-on…It’s the same one I’ve been using since my first air-flight to Savanna, Georgia as a 15 year old Girl Scout. I told them this fact, minus a few details, and they said “mmmmm, ok.” But their eyes said, “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

I arrived in Jordan 2 hot and uncomfortable hours later and found my way to the location one stands if they are spending 12 hours over night in a country that isn’t their ending destination. I found the shuttle bus stop to a hotel and met a very nice Bristolian man who was on his way to Baghdad. We stood around for a few minutes and chatted it up as two strangers who speak the same language in a foreign country do. It was only a few minutes until a cab driver came around and asked (I didn’t realize this at the time, but in Arabic) if we wanted a ride. I told him no thanks and then he asked, if me and this Englishman were “together.” I was confused by the question and looked over at him to respond, but then realized…he didn’t understand what was going on. I quickly told the nosey cab driver no and smiled inwardly at being able to fully converse, in not only a different language, but in the Shami dialect (not the Egyptian one that I’ve been studying.) My brain automatically made the transition on its own!

After a comfy night in the hotel (including the Disney Channel on TV, my first experience with Hannah Montana and a hot shower) I hopped the bus back to the airport for another round of fun with security. The first problem was my carryon. Apparently not only too big, but too heavy. This nice dude kept trying to tell me that I needed to move stuff into other bags. I quickly explained that they were checked in Egypt and he took pity on me and told me he’d meet me at the gate and take it from me and put it somewhere else so they wouldn’t charge me $150 dollars. I was weighing my options. $150 and a better chance of actually getting the bag back…or giving it to this guy…and not knowing what exactly will happen to it. I said another “Bismillah” and handed it to the guy at the gate, thanking him for his time and hoping it would turn up on the other end, as it had my shoes and my winter coat in it.

The next issue was my c-clamp. For those of you who don’t know, I’m holding my laptop computer together with a c-clamp. It’s this tool one uses in woodworking and other such not-so-technical work. My computer screen is broken, and I found that if you squeeze it in a specific spot, it works. I, being what I’d like to call “resourceful” rather than “cheap,” decided to spend 4$ on a c-clamp, rather than $700 dollars in computer repairs. Unfortunately, the c-clamp is a nice lump of metal and it flagged the guys at the gate. They looked at it, looked at me, I smiled and tried to explain (which was impossible) and then they apologized and threw it in that big clear box where they throw things like knives, water bottles, pressurized hairspray and things like that. I don’t know where it is now, but I hope it’s doing ok.

Then set in the 13 hour plane ride. 13 hours is a long time to gather all your thoughts and put them in order as you travel across the world. I’ve decided that if ever anyone invents something like a “beam, me up Scotty device.” I’d join the lobby group against it becoming a public form of transportation. I needed those 13 hours to adjust my self back. I needed that time to think, and replay, and remember, and decided. I needed to just sit and think, and I did.

I thought about how lucky I am, and how I’ve fulfilled a goal, and how I’ve done something I never thought I’d do. I thought about my next steps in life, I thought about my last few steps, I thought about Egypt, and Siwa, and Dahab, and Washington DC. I thought about Saukville, and Madison. I thought about all my friends, all across the globe. I thought about future, and past, and present. And most of all, I thought about how grateful I was.

I’m so grateful.

I can’t begin to tell you how amazingly amazed I am at the thought that I just spent the last 3 months traveling around Egypt. I know, I was there…but just thinking about it makes me so happy. I experienced things I never thought possible. I rode camels, and jeeps and taxi-cabs and buses, and trains, and boats, and ships. I visited ancient temples, ancient mosques, new mosques, palaces, museums. I swam in the Red Sea, I splashed in the Mediterranean, I observed the Nile, while staying as far away as I could from the polluted banks. I climbed Mt. Sinai, I slept in the desert. I even watched all three High School Musicals! (it’s amazing what in-flight movies will do to a person.) I never would have done that in America.

Overall, it’s been an amazing trip and I can’t tell you how happy I am to have been able to share it with you. Thanks to all of you who wrote to me, thanks for keeping me company. Thanks for keeping me motivated to write, and to share, and to think about how best to describe the things I experienced every single day. I looked at things differently because of you, and wanting so badly to describe exactly what had happened so that you could all but experience it along with me.

I’m home now. It’s cold outside. There is snow on the ground. I’m avoiding jetlag and the cold and flu bug. My parents kept me up last night ‘til 9 pm and I wanted to kill them. They wouldn’t let me sleep! They kept nudging me out of my jetlag stupor. I’m really enjoying drinking milk and eating cheese that doesn’t have the consistency of rubber. It’s the little things, you know?

I’m almost back on a normal schedule, and I’m determined to really enjoy these 2 weeks I have at home before heading across the US to DC. If you are in Wisconsin, I want to see you! Give me a call! If you are in Egypt, I miss you and hope our paths cross soon. If you are in DC, here I come!

Thanks for being my travel buddies along the way. Hope to talk to you soon.

-Sarrah

So my aunt has been visiting and I took her to Siwa last weekend. Siwa is this desert oasis on the western side of the country near the Libyan border. I can’t even begin to explain this travel experience. For one, I think I found the title of my journal if it ever becomes a book. “A different brand of tourist.” Traveling alone as a woman is one thing, traveling alone as Muslim women in a majority Muslim country is a whole different story. It’s just not done, I think. In Dahab, the locals were fascinated by me, in Cairo, they question whether I’m really Muslim or not, and in Siwa, a place where ALL the women wear full burkah, they treated my aunt and I with the most genuine hospitality that one could ever ask for. The other tourists have no idea what to make of me either…”She’s got that thing on her head…but she speaks English, let’s ask her where the best restaurant/hotel/bathroom/museum/road/souk/postcard is.” No, seriously…I feel very helpful and like to alter people’s paradigms as I point them in a direction, I hope is correct. Back to Siwa, I’m still reeling from the hammer-smack of genuine kindness that they gave in this town. I suppose other tourists feel this, but honestly, I’ve never felt so welcomed, accepted, appreciated and relaxed. People were just so nice!

Ok, let’s rewind. So, I had planned this weekend for my aunt to get some Egyptian experience outside of Cairo. (I’ve come to learn that this is necessary, if you ever go to Egypt, get out of Cairo for a weekend at least). I asked around at my Arabic school, got a few phone numbers, bus schedules and hotel names and we hopped an early bus to Alexandria. Unfortunately we were met with my first experience of bad weather in the entire time I’ve been in Egypt. Alex (as it’s called) was covered in a really thick fog and we spent a Londonesque day traveling the coast of the Mediterranean. I totally felt like I was nearing the cliffs of Dover, not across the sea from Greece, but whatever. We traversed the coast in taxis, witnessed a horrible microbus accident, so avoided those, hopped a horse carriage at one point and hit up the most important tourist locations. Using the Lonely Planet guidebook (aka THE Book, or the Bible, as quoted by multiple tourists I’ve run into along the way,) we stepped into a café that was supposed to be “dripping with atmosphere.” I’m all about atmosphere and dripping, so I decided that it would be a pleasant breakfast stop after our 3 hours on a train that looked like it was supposed to have been retired 30 years ago. This so called atmospheric place must have been a little less barren than the jail cell the author of the quote must have just gotten out of. (Wow, Sarrah…that was harsh!). No, seriously it looked like an auditorium turned lunchroom in an old school. Besides all my negative comments, the food was good but the service was, well…the when my aunt went to the restroom to wash up, the waiter told me that if he was American, he would have voted for McCain. I said “good for you” and smoothly avoided that obvious trap of a political conversation (they like those here).

After breakfast we headed to a mosque for Friday prayer and enjoyed a recitation of the Burdah (an Islamic song of sorts that was chanted aloud by a group of elders in the community.) After a carriage ride to all the landmarks; the Citadel, a famous murderer’s house (kind of like Jack the Ripper in Alexandria’s history books), the library, etc…we decided to skip the guidebooks suggestions for dinner and headed to a restaurant that WAS actually dripping with atmosphere (it had a fish tank). My teacher suggested this restaurant called Belba and it was obviously the place to be if you were Egyptian, hungry and in Alexandria. It was a pretty amazingly huge, bustling two story restaurant that brought class, coastal seafood, high speed service and satisfied bellies all together in one location. The array of appetizers they brought to the table was a shock and awe experience, and the pita bread was the best I’ve had since my dad’s bakery closed. They had over 75 waiters running to and fro (I almost got taken out by 2 on my way to wash my hands.) After basically filling up on starters, our food arrived and wowza…it was good. If you are ever in Alexandria, you must ask the cab driver to take you to Belba. This place probably won’t make the guidebook because it has too much atmosphere and the menus are only in Arabic. They cater to the people…not to tourists, but alas…I get the best of both worlds!

The fog continued into the evening and we spent chilly moments by the sea and after finding ourselves outside another failure of a guidebook suggested café, my aunt asked some girls on the street where a better alternative was and ended up at nice place to wait out a few hours before our night bus to Siwa. I keep ripping on the guidebook, but really it’s awesome to have. The problem is, you become addicted to it, and get afraid to try new things out for yourself. Good thing I had my aunt with me. Her Arabic kills along with my planning and contacts (and our obvious charm), all combined brought us a most amazing travel experience.

Back to the trip: I’m all about traveling at night to avoid hotel costs and to see just how exhausted I can make myself, so we hopped a 10pm bus to Siwa. Sometimes it gets a bit ridiculous. This was a 8 hour trip across the desert, at night. It got frigidly cold and was rather uncomfortable, but we made it to Siwa by 6 am and were met at the bus station by our to-be friend and host, Salah. While still in Cairo, my teacher gave me this guy’s phone number and told me to call him to reserve us hotels and show us around. I took him up on the offer and basically…it was the best thing I’ve ever done. Salah and his brothers own a restaurant in town and they more or less adopted my aunt and me into their family for the weekend.

We slept a few hours, woke to the sound of donkey’s braying and the sight of palm groves and sunshine. Siwa’s this crazy place that is stuck in the past. Donkey carts are more prevalent here than motorized vehicles (which are all 4×4’s or motorcycles because they need to be desertworthy) No joke, the taxi’s are literally little boys with donkey carts. Youseff, my first donkey cart experience even gave me his business card, which I will cherish forever. Though Siwa seems to be a fairly busy tourist attraction, Siwans don’t seem tainted in the same way other places in Egypt are. There is a genuine kindess in the people that I haven’t seen anywhere.

After breakfast on the roof of Alexander’s Restaurant (Salah and his brother’s place), we headed to the old part of the city where we found some Siwan kids willing to show us around. Though my aunt speaks Arabic fluently, the Siwan’s come from a Berber background and speak a language that is similar to Arabic but not quite understandable to most Arabs. Through a patchwork of understanding, we found our way around and shared the remainder of our travel snacks with the kids. Making our way to the top of the hill, we happened by a guy ( about my age,) squatting on top of a rock, cell phone in hand, just chillin’. He said Salam as we walked by and respectfully left us alone. This never would have happened in Cairo. When it was obvious we didn’t know anything about the area, he shyly asked us if we had seen the well (in English, no less). We said no and he (again with utmost politeness) said he could either point us the way or guide us there. Automatically my mind flashed to my wallet, thinking “how much should we tip him for the information, what if he doesn’t think it’s enough…I don’t think I have enough cash on hand, I need to find an ATM). Then all of a sudden he was quietly giving us a full-on tour of the city. At the top of the hill, we looked over the entirety of the Siwa oasis and saw lakes, and pools and springs, and palms and town and desert and mountains, all in one blink. He (Fet-hey was his name) waved to his mom in the distance as she hung laundry on the roof of his house and the next thing I knew, we were invited for tea at his little shop at the bottom of the hill. This whole time, I’m calculating the tip in my head, having just been in Cairo, the land of every random act of kindness has a price tag, I didn’t realize that to even offer was incredibly insulting. Fet-hey adamantly refused as he poured me another glass of the super dark and sweet Siwan tea. From that moment on, our trip turned around, we realized with relief that though we were miles and miles from home, we had found a home complete with family there in Siwa.

Salah arranged rides to take us to and from the sights, refused payment, and called every once and a while to make sure we were ok. We walked through the town as guests, welcomed with smiles and “hello’s” from all the little kids, who would gilggle with glee when we waved back.

We decided to arrange a “safari” with Fet-hy and the next day we were ready and rolling for our night in the desert. Turns out I wasn’t fully prepared for this adventure. I didn’t bring my snowboard, luckily you can rent them there. First things first, I got myself a sled, then bought some socks, because everyone kept telling us that it would be bitterly cold in the desert. We made one more stop to pick up another group consisting of a Dutchman and a woman from France and their guide and then we were on our way.

Our driver’s name was “Gill-gill” short for something, I’m sure, and he was hilarious. When he didn’t have a stone-serious face he was cracking jokes and pretending to get lost or stuck. The ride was crazy! We’d never have anything like this in America. There’s just no way. We are too worried about safety, we forget to have fun, I think. I mean, I wouldn’t have said no to a seatbelt, had there been one (sorry Mom), it would have prevented the multiple bruises and bumps I currently have, especially the ones on my head from the roof as we jumped over dunes…. In the States, anything that came remotely like this would have had harnesses, helmets signed waivers releasing liability, warnings, worry and over all a less cool experience. If we were in America, I definitely wouldn’t have gotten onto the hood of the jeep with Fet-hy to increase traction when we actually did get stuck in the sand. Hanging on for dear life when we got unstuck was a trick. Maybe we’re just accident prone in the states, or maybe we’re wimps. I mean, everything you do is potentially dangerous…so why not live it up? (I’m going to go look into sky diving.) A common thought that passes through my mind as I travel through Egypt is “if they’ve survived so far, why can’t I?” I think this daily in reference to things like the cleanliness of the food, the bathrooms, the air even. I think this regarding the lack of safety procedures and when watching the barefoot kid jump onto the back of a pickup truck as it zoomed full speed down the street. When crossing the street, I think this a lot. A lot, a lot. I mean, if they haven’t died yet, I should be able to take it, no? I’ve stomached a lot of dirt (like literally, I’ve pulled rocks/sand from my food). I’ve been hit (lightly) by a car. I’ve ridden at speeds unimaginable with no available seat belt. I’ve stood in the middle of the cornice as two cars avoided me on either side as I tried to cross unscathed.

There’s a word in Arabic that I’ve been using a lot here. Muslim’s say it daily, but I’ve really taken the meaning to heart. Basically it’s what you say when you truly just put everything in the hands of God. Bismillah…I know I’d be puking my guts out, in a hospital with a broken something, or worse, if I was doing this all on my own. There’s no way I’d survive. Seriously…

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, not dying as we jumped sand dunes at crazy speeds and heights. We stopped along the way at a clear cold water lake that popped out of nowhere and I splashed around in 40 degree water and made a sandcastle to the enjoyment of my aunt and the other tourists. Sometimes my level of childlike behavior is unbearable, but it keeps me grounded. Wouldn’t want to grow up too fast.

After the cold lake, we drove farther into the desert and found a hot spring where I splashed around a bit more, which was cause for picture taking by some British tourists who only later realized I spoke and understood English, (quite well, thank you!). How annoying for them.

As the sun set off even farther on the desert horizon, we set off to our final destination for the night, a place called Million Stars Camp. As we drove in the dark, over more dunes (it’s more scary when you can’t see the free fall before it comes, by the way), I understood clearly how the place earned the name. There’s nothing like being in a big city where you can’t even see the sky in the daytime and then going out to the middle of nowhere and looking up. Amazingly breathtaking and marvelous.

We met two more Dutchmen, freelance journalists who just “suggested” doing a story on Siwa to a paper in Holland and bam…here they were. We also met two Korean women who seemed to be “stranded” in Siwa and found work with the man who owned the camp for the time being. We all ate dinner together and soon were enjoying Siwan music around a palm tree fueled fire.

The music experience was unreal. You know how I am about diversity, and bringing different cultures together and warm and fuzzy stuff like that…well, I wasn’t disappointed. My aunt started a beat on the Tabla, the guides brought out an instrument called a simsimia (a smaller stringed instrument, that’s strings are actually made from the brake lines of one of the many bikes that you see around Siwa) and strummed along and one of the Dutchmen (I wish I remembered their names!) brought out his guitar and yeah, it was a wonderful compilation of sound.

The craziest thing about the entire evening was the fact that we were all speaking English. I’ve become very aware of language as of late, and because I’m beginning to understand a lot more Arabic, I sometimes tell people around me to go ahead and speak in Arabic and not worry about being rude, because I don’t understand. The fact of the matter was, here, the weren’t speaking English because of me. The only language that we all spoke and understood was English, even though I was the only native speaker, it was the universal means of understanding. I mean, even if I hadn’t been there, My aunt from Palestine, the three Dutchmen, the two Koreans and the Berber guides would all be speaking English. It made me feel oddly oppressive and very very lucky.

After political conversations and ghost stories, the other tourists headed off to their tents for a cool nights sleep. Just as my aunt and I were about to follow, we were invited to tea and a late night dinner of (sandy) kofta (kind of like kabobs). As we sat around the dying fire, they told us stories of love lost, fishing trips, which tourists they find the most annoying (Germans, who knew…) When we did finally head off to bed, it was late and cold and the piles of blankets were a welcome sight.

The next morning we woke and headed back to the Siwa town for a relaxing day of more siwan tea, palm groves, and more yummy food from Alexander Restaurant (as we’d for obvious reasons become rather loyal customers). That night, we headed to the far end of the oasis to watch the sun set over a salty lake before catching the 8-oclock bus back to Cairo (there I am again with the night travel). Waiting at the station to say goodbye were our many friends we’d collected along the way. Fet-hy brought me a burned CD of siwan music, Salah helped carry our bags, the Dutchman exchanged numbers with my aunt incase of a trip to Ramullah and we honestly felt as if we were leaving honest to goodness family behind as the bus pulled off.

We arrived to the smoggy but familiar city of Cairo around 7 in the morning ( a few hours late due to a flat tire). This unexpected stop allowed me to see not only the sunset, but the sunrise in the same night/morning.) As I got off the bus and back into the hustle and bustle of Cairo, I just wanted to go back. As we swatted away the fly-like taxi drivers as they swarmed the bus in hopes of catching unsuspecting tourists , I missed Youseff and his donkey. I missed Fat-hey and Salah and their kindess. Back in the land of backsheesh (tips) we tiredly climbed the 6 stories in the rickety elevator of our hostel and washed the last trace of the palm tree campfire from our clothes. I’m really going to miss the sereneness as I dodge traffic and aoid getting run over these last few days I’m here.

So I’ve been back in Cairo a few days now… The other night my aunt and I were riding in a taxi and the dude gave us a free ride…I thought it was because he asked where she was from and she said Palestine and given the current situation, people are rather sympathetic, but it turns out…a part of the conversation I didn’t understand was that he asked for my hand…in marriage. My aunt got me out of it somehow but still ended up getting the free ride. She’s amazing that way.

I just dropped her off at the airport (she’s heading back to Ramullah) and have been up since 4:30 am. It’s going to be an interesting day. I have hopes of quickly visiting Coptic Cairo, a place I haven’t seen much of. Seriously, you can live in this city your whole life and not see everything there is to see. Yesterday, I got in a cab to take me to a place I regularly go and because of traffic, he took a shortcut through a grave yard (which are basically cities of tombs where people actually live because of the poverty situation here) and we bounced along through this incredible place I’d never been before. At one point, the road ended and he just…plowed through some rubble to get to the next street… I’m still not sure how I feel about that.

Yesterday my aunt and I headed to the old market where she insisted on eating pigeon (…I’ve been told to avoid that here, because of bird flu scare…not that I’d eat it if there wasn’t a scare of bird flu…) so yeah. There are some things I’m still not comfortable with. I mean, liver is one thing, dove…it’s a whole ‘nother story.

We had plans of getting on a felucca after experiencing the International Book Fair but unfortunately my aunt stepped on a nail…

Ugh, I honestly thought I was loosening up, I thought all the dirt and grime and danger had made me less of a worry-wart. You should have seen me. I popped into action and cleaned the wound, called my doctor friend, got the name of places with the tetanus vaccination, and spent the rest of the evening worrying that on my aunt’s last day here, she managed to hurt herself badly. Thank God, everything was ok, we got her the shot, and some antibiotics, (hopefully they will work on the bird flu she might have ingested earlier in the day).

I head back home on Sunday night. I’m looking forward to being home, but am worried that I’ll miss this place too much. I know it’ll always be here to come back to, but it’s odd leaving a place unsure of whether you’ll ever be there again. In this time of mass transit, high speed everything and small-world syndrome, it’s hard to imagine that I might never set foot in these sands again.

Bismillah,

Sarrah

Salams yo,

So yeah. I’m almost done, but that’s not stopping me from milking Egypt for all it’s worth. My Aunt Samreen came last Sunday for a visit, so I’ve moved once again, onto the 6^th floor of building in Wust, al Balad (downtown). The elevator is a little iffy, but we’ve been taking it anyway. Giggling nervously all the way up. Amto (aunt) Samreen had the gall to ask at the desk how old it was, and apparently it’s from the 1930’s…Does that make sense? I’m not even sure if that’s possible, but it feels like it when you’re stuck in this glass cage slowly climbing higher and higher. We’ve been enjoying the hostel though. It’s called Let Me Inn (catchy, I know), and actually, I’d recommend it. Free breakfast (and wireless internet) is included and they bring it to your room (not the wireless, it’s already there). We’ve been eating on the balcony in our pajamas each morning, which is rather luxurious.

Today was my last day of colloquial Arabic class. I’m really really sad about leaving that place. I’ve really grown quite attached to my teachers and to the whole thing. I was trying to track my progress today in class, and I realized that I know multiple ways to say the same thing…that’s progress, right? I mean, I’m by no means fluent, but I can get around, I can argue with taxi drivers, I can dialogue a bit… I’m happy with it. About halfway through I was questioning my decision to do both colloquial and classical at the same time, but in the end, that was the best decision I made yet. My intentions going into this were to be able to speak the language, I mean, I’ve been comparing myself to other students (who are mostly only taking classical) and yeah, they are so much better at understanding and reading texts, but I’ve got the up on conversation…so I guess my goals have been met, kind of.

My favorite part of class today was when my teacher realized I was a Girl Scout. I (yes Suzanne, be proud) had a conversation in Arabic about Girl Scouts. He was super impressed that I fit all his stereotypes of a scout. I tie knots, I camp, etc. The one thing he didn’t ask me about was cookies…apparently they don’t do that whole thing in Egypt.

Besides school, I’ve been keeping busy doing the whole tourist thing again with my aunt. We went to the pyramids yesterday. For the first time in my three times being there, I went inside one. {It was also my first time getting in on the Egyptian ticket. (2 pounds and an extra 5 to bribe the guard instead of 30 for the foreigner one) Not sure how I feel about that)} It was really cool (being inside the pyramid, not bribing the guard) and hot (again, the inside of the pyramid was hot, not the guard). I tried asking the dude at the door why it was so hot inside, but he just mentioned something about how there wasn’t supposed to be any air inside at all…not sure how that relates exactly, but I’m glad there was air in there, otherwise, that would have been bad. Anyway, hopefully I’ll look it up at some point and be enlightened.

That evening Amto took me on a dinner cruise and we enjoyed the likes of sufi dancers, Arab singers (singing Spanish and English and Arabic songs), and yes….a belly dancer. Well kind of, we went up to the top deck before she came on stage to do her thing. (I wanted to keep the dinner I’d eaten) It was pretty laughable, to be honest. One really cool part about the dinner cruise was that a couple held their engagement party the same night there on the boat and we got to witness the entire thing. It was a sweet and romantic evening for the two of them.

Tonight we went to Azhar park for my perhaps, last time, and we watched the sun set into the smog. Yeah, it’s an interesting phenomenon…it doesn’t set into a horizon, it sets into this black cloud that hovers over the city. The hill at Azhar park is high enough that you can see over the smog, but really it gets me thinking about how particularly unhealthy this trip has been for my lungs. I’m going to have to do some major detox when I get home. Another perk about being up so high is listening to the call to prayer from all around the city. As the sun sets, all the mosques around Cairo turn on their loudspeaker systems and blast the call. It’s an amazing sound by itself, but in unison, coming from all over the city, it is… impossible to describe and I’m going to miss it so much. Bells just don’t do it, you know?

So yeah. I’m headed to Alexandria tomorrow at like 6 in the morning. Then from there, I’m hopping a bus to the Siwa desert oasis. I’m super excited about experiencing that side of the country. I didn’t get south to Upper Egypt but I hit up the East and now I’ll be heading West. I really wanted to see more of the desert before leaving and I guess now is my chance. I’ll be crossing the Sahara and living amongst the palm trees near the border with Libya. I’m sure I’ll be tired of desert by the time I’m back in Cairo.

More news and pictures to come,

Sarrah

Salam All,

Do you know what is cool? Speaking to a Hollander in Arabic, that’s cool. One of the students at the Arabic center I go to is from Amsterdam and she doesn’t speak much English and well…I don’t speak much (any) Dutch, so we communicate in broken Arabic. It’s pretty neat if you think about it. I’m getting to the point in Arabic where I’m overly confused, but people understand me. I’m afraid that a few more months would do me a great deal of good…but that’s not going to be the case. I suppose I could try to find a compatible course back in the states…I’d better get searching.

So last week I made up permanent residence on Marissa’s couch. I can’t remember if I told you who she was. She’s the best ever… Basically she heard I needed a place to stay and said, “c’mon over” without really meeting me. I loved living with her and her lovely family but, alas…I’ve moved again. Currently I’m living back at Mona’s house, but her extended family has moved in. It’s actually really cool, and really great for my Arabic because they don’t speak much English. I’m mostly lost a hundred percent of the time but Mona just told me that they have described me to her as “lazeeza,” which is roughly translated as “charming or kind or something, though literally it means delicious.” Apparently, my clueless face looks charming or delicious. It might have something to do with the fact that I am good at trying all sorts of new food (even liver, Yeah…I know, I’m so brave). Or maybe it’s because I insist on doing the dishes….I feel it’s the only thing I do know how to do…and I can communicate it clearly by slowly pushing Mona’s aunts out of the way as I tie on the apron. It’s actually become a regular occurrence. I call it the Dishes Dance. Tickets go on sale 3 times daily. I’m really growing quite close to them and I’ll be sad to say goodbye on Saturday. (Yes..I’m moving again).

Arabic has been going well. I had a good day yesterday and a semi-good day today. Wednesday’s are never good. Ask Kalah…she said I really struggled the Wednesday she was there watching me. Today wasn’t too bad though. I learned how to say the future tense of verbs in my classical class. That’s a big deal. Here’s another thing that’s cool. When your Arabic teacher reads your homework and can actually understand what you wrote. I mean, Arabic is kind of a hard language to read, having a different alphabet and all, and writing it is another story. So when my teacher spends like less than a minute reading a page of text that I wrote with my handwriting…it’s kind of cool.

In my colloquial class…I struggled through a story about some dude who wanted to move out of the dorms so he could throw mix gender parties. No joke… that’s what the textbook was teaching me. Now I have the Arabic vocab to throw a mix gendered party. Wahoo!

I forgot to write about my excursion with Kalah to Bayt Sahimi and surrounding area. On suggestion by the manager of my Arabic school we went in search of this old Ottoman mansion that was most recently turned into a museum. I think I mentioned it before but I didn’t really go into details. Any way…If you ever get to Egypt, call me up for directions to this place. It’s amazing. It has 115 rooms and half are built for the summer and half are built for the winter. There are three floors, two gardens, a massive courtyard, a birthing room, a sauna, a Turkish bath, and ….get this….a room with whale bones in it. That one was the most confusing for me, but our tour guide gladly explained that there was an old superstition that if a woman wanted to get pregnant or married, she’d step over the whale bones. After his detailed explanation, he asked us if we wanted to give it a try. We declined… I guess it’s sort of like the flower bouquet toss at weddings…except with whale bones. Ahem…no difference really.

Yes. So I’ve been keeping myself busy. My aunt is planning a visit starting this Saturday. I’m excited to be a tourist once again. It’s nice to have on and off weeks, ya know?

I feel obliged to talk about the situation in Gaza again. I mean, I’m as close as I’ll get to Palestine. I was really hoping to go and visit…but it’s really not possible because of the war. It’s nuts. Protest happen daily here, all illegal as far as I can understand. My classical Arabic teacher’s husband was arrested at a protest the other day and she doesn’t know where he is. Can you imagine that? I can’t. I feel so bad for her. Although that’s nothing compared to the people in Gaza. Their homes, their children, their lives, all lost. There is so much destruction and damage and nobody is doing anything. I mean, they started bombing with chemicals that are blinding children, and the world is mum. What is it going to take? I’ve given up praying for peace. I’ve started praying that the world opens its eyes and sees what is happening, sees the truth behind what this war is a symbol for.

I’m sorry, I’m done being political. I’m just frustrated. I can’t do much from here. It’s ironic that I could do more from America than from a few hundred miles away.

Staying Safe,

Sarrah

Yeah, that’s right…Love…I love Dahab! It’s this hippy coastal town on the Red Sea (not an Egyptian boy’s name) and it’s beautiful and full of warm people, amazing fruit drinks and sun sun sun! I’ve never felt this way about a place before. It’s perfect. It’s fairly inexpensive, there’s lots to do, lots to see and so relaxing. I think I’ll become a spokesperson for a travel ad for them. I’d do such a great job. So yeah, this was my second time going, but seriously, it was so nice. Sarah (Kalah) and I went with my newly adopted family (consisting of Jamie, Marissa and their 5 year old, Santino.) We had a blast and all convinced each other that we wanted to stay another day…or two. I (ahem) even missed school as a result. But don’t worry, I called my teachers and told them so as not to be rude…you gotta do that when you have one on one classes, you know? It’s not like back in the day at college…oh so long ago.

So, Dahab…let me go on. We took the overnight bus and arrived in the AM on Friday and had a seaside breakfast with fresh squeezed juice and so much warm sun. This was a big deal, because it’s been kinda cold in Cairo and just feeling natural warmth was a beautiful experience. Post breakfast we did some chillin’ in the sun where I had an interesting interaction with a waiter. He asked where we were from (which everybody does) and after we said America, he said “I hate America!” and then handed me a menu… It was…uncomfortable… but I took it in stride and decided that I basically had to be an ambassador for my peeps. This interaction, as well as others I’ve had here has really got me thinking. I mean, in America, I feel this constant pressure to uphold the face of Muslims. I’m really careful about how I interact with people, because I realize I might be the only Muslim they’ve ever seen, talked to, etc. Perhaps I’m being a little unrealistic, but it’s something I’m sensitive to. So, I did a little flip in my thinking and started being sensitive to the fact that I might be the only American Muslim that many taxi drivers, bathroom attendants, store owners interact with. I really want people to realize who we are… who I am. I want to break the stereotype that people have about America and Americans… I’m doing my part (and tipping well).

After an uncomfortable glass of hibiscus tea, Kalah and I rented snorkel gear and hit the sea. I unfortunately hit it a little hard, swallowed approximately half of the water available, and lost the mouth piece in the process. This was not before I had the chance to view the most amazing array of sea life. Kalah had her underwater camera and was able to capture some of the colorful spectacle that lies beneath the waves. I’ll try to post a picture, but realize it doesn’t even come close to what was actually there.

Dripping wet and ashamed, I gave back my snorkel gear, minus the mouth piece and we found another seaside café. After an attempt at Arabic homework, we migrated to another restaurant for some dinner. I wish I could give justice to these places. I’ll post pictures because I can’t. I mean, imagine sitting on the sea, hearing the waves, being chilled by the sea air, only to be warmed by the campfire that’s going on in the sand next to you, (because the restaurant is open air)…talk about perfect atmosphere… Oh and did I mention the Bob Marley tunes going on in the background?

Other bits of excitement in Dahab included a 3 hour ATV ride into the desert, the mountains, finding an oasis, drinking tea at a “Bedouin” rest stop where they had two pool tables. (I’m not sure how authentic the setting was) I don’t think I’ve ever played a game of pool before that day, but I found out I’m no good. But I’m not as bad as some. Jamie somehow ended up hitting the cue ball off the table onto a ledge, hitting the only glass that was sitting there. He likes to think if it as a miracle. I think it was poor luck, and I’m surprised it didn’t happen to me.

So yeah, I want to go back. I’m in a state of depression back in Cairo, where the sun just doesn’t shine the same way. I think the state of depression might also have something to do with the fact that Kalah left last night and now I’m back to my same old, same old routine of Arabic class and homework. It was bound to happen at some point, I suppose. Ah, well. Actually it’s not so bad, Santino and I made brownies tonight and they turned out to be amazing. And about that homework, it has yet to be done.

On Kalah’s last day we set out to find a museum I had heard about in the streets of Islamic Cairo and so we took a taxi (like you do) and as we got out we found ourselves in the midst of a very large group of riot police in full gear (massive guns and all). It was a little unnerving (no it was a lot unnerving). We backed away slowly and went the opposite direction. I found out later that the day before there had been a protest about Gaza in the area and they had locked a bunch of people in the nearby mosque to quell the crowd. Fortunately, we missed all the action and only were experiencing the remaining echoes.

It’s crazy to be so close and feel so disconnected from the situation in Gaza. My inbox is full of information about protests and letter writing campaigns and gatherings and candle light vigils and all of that is happening in America. Here in Egypt, a bordering country, I’m sitting here sipping fresh squeezed fruit juice and watching riot police hold back the true sentiments of the Egyptian people. All I can do is pray for the violence to stop. And I do.

Hope all is well in the States, and beyond.

Keepin’ it real,

Sarrah

Happy New Year All,

I spent the eve on the Nile and watched the New Year come in from the deck of a felucca. How ‘bout you? I seem to have friends all over the world and thought it would be fun to see where you all were at that exact moment. Well, not the exact moment because midnight came at different times, but whatever, you know what I mean.

So yeah…I’m back in Egypt. I guess that’s news since the last time I posted. I’m kind of living the life of a Bedouin since I got back. I officially have no home. Which, it turns out…is not that bad. My friend that I was staying with’s family came into town and so I spent a week living with a family that I met at the Arabic school I go to. They are so amazing to have taken me in for the week. It was a great week too. I made good friends with Santino (their 5 year old). We bonded over Frisbee and have continued to bond over such things as Superman, Pizza, and most recently, koshari. (Koshari is this traditional Egyptian dish of rice, lentils, pasta, tomato sauce, friend onions and garlic) (So yummy, I took them to a koshari restaurant tonight).

Last Saturday, I headed back to the airport once more, but this time it was to pick someone up, not to fly anywhere. Sarah (Kalah, for those Camp Silverbrook people out there) hopped a plane to visit me! It’s so exciting being able to share this experience with someone from home. Plus, it’s great feeling like a seasoned professional with her around. When I’m with my other friends here, I’m the one who hangs back and lets things happen because a.) they speak more Arabic than me and b.) they’ve been here longer. Now, I’m forced to figure things out for myself, which turns out is pretty cool. I’m a profession taxi hailer and haggler at this point.

So, because Sarah’s visiting, we needed to find a bigger place to stay so I did what I would never consider doing in America… I posted to a listserve looking for a place to stay. Ahem, (yes my parents know) so yeah…I posted to this great listserve looking for a room to sublet and this sweet couple who are the administrators of St. Andrews Refugee Center here in Cairo, were more than willing to take us in. It turns out one of them worked with my semi-famous great uncle of sorts, Ibrahim AbuLughod at one point in her academic career. I’m so glad he was a good guy, it has really come in handy for me.

So, that’s where I am at the moment, Once Sarah leaves, I’ll be heading back to Marissa and Jamie’s and then who knows from there… (My poor parents…I’m sorry guys)

So yeah, it’s great being a tourist again. I went back to the pyramids, (rode a camel this time) bought a few post cards, did the thing, took the pics. I took Sarah to the Khan-el-khalili, this massive outdoor bazaar full of awesome Egyptianness. We went to a few mosques, the citadel, Azhar park, the Egyptian Museum, spent New Years Eve on a felucca on the Nile, and in a few hours we are going to hit the road to the Red Sea for a little sun, salt, and fresh air. Mostly we’ve been running around like crazy experiencing all we can as fast as we can before she has to leave. I think we are doing a good job. It really is great being a tourist…though it is hard being a student and a tourist at the same time. (I have an exam on Monday…I guess I’ll be studying on the beaches of Dahab.)

Having Sarah here is great. She’s able to point out all the things that have been normalized for me. For example…the guy on the street with a gun shining setup. Yeah…I passed him twice without seeing the gun, just sitting on the sidewalk…like it ‘aint no big thing. Another sidewalk sight was the dude sitting next to a bathroom scale charging people to weigh themselves… We kindly declined and laughed about how if he tried to sell that service in America, he’d be the poorest homeless person in the entire world. Sarah also pointed out that selling other people’s name tags isn’t normal. I’m so glad she’s here to help me realize that I’m seriously living in a very different place.

So yeah… Egypt is still great. I really love this place despite all its quirks. I think I’m winding down though. I’m looking into earlier tickets back. I’m thinking about my next steps in life. If anyone has any jobs in mind for me, please let me know. Gotta love the economic sitch…great time to be a new graduate if you know what I mean…

Peace out,

Sarrah

Hey people,

I just wanted to write a quick note because I guess the media in the US is surprisingly covering the situation in Gaza and has made Egypt seem like a particularly unsafe place to be. In fact, it’s not. I just wanted you to know that I’m safe and happy and being smart about where I go when. There are protests and arrests and (I guess) riots, but I have successfully avoided all three (legality issues with the freedom of speech here have prevented me from voicing my frustration about the issue). It’s a mess in Gaza. Please pray for the people there. So many deaths, so many children… It’s hard to think.

The news here shows a bit more details about what is going on. It’s horrendous. I’ve seen pictures of coffins, of makeshift funerals, of bleeding children. The people are starving and desperate and in the middle of a war. The fact that the world is taking this long to respond is horrendous. I’m sick just thinking about the poor families that have been torn apart. I’m more sick thinking about the fact that nobody is doing anything.

I’m sorry. I promise I’ll write more soon, but please know that I, for one, am safe.

Sarrah

12-20-2008

Bahrain.

I found an electrical outlet in the airport in Amman (I’m experiencing a 6 hour layover) and some wi-fi streaming in from somewhere, so I thought I’d sit down and write about Bahrain. It’s a lot different than I expected, I’ll be honest. I suppose I imagined more green for a place that is basically an island. In fact, it’s a desert. A large desert island. The first day I was there, my aunt and cousins took me to Arad Fort, which was an old military fort, now turned museum. We got a bunch of good photos there because the sun was setting and it made for great light over the water.

(Wow, I just yawned and my ears popped, I can totally hear again!)

I happened to arrive on Bahrain’s National day (sort of like our Fourth of July) and witnessed happy Bahraini’s everywhere. People painted their cars, put up red and white lights, attached flags to everything imaginable and drove fast, sitting outside their car windows blasting music. ‘Twas a sight to see. Actually it was pretty cool, lots of the buildings were decorated and they lined the highways with red and white flowers. The fountains were lit red and white and it was a very festive atmosphere. For being in a majority Muslim region during Christmas season, I feel as if I got my fill of flashy lights no problem.

I also experienced another kind of Christmassy tradition. We went to the regions largest Mall (City Center) a few nights in a row. I didn’t end up buying anything (save the most expensive white chocolate mocha I will ever buy) because the exchange rate is redic right now. Again, the malls here are crazy. I think it’s what people do. Not only are these places complete with all the stores, food court options, coffee shops etc…They also have movie theaters, water parks, amusement parks, and live performances. We happened upon a cirque-de-sole-esque pirate performance. They had such an elaborate set, and costumes, and yes…the performance wasn’t complete without a dance to the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song.

I also got to spend time with my one of my great aunt’s grandkids. We went to visit them one evening, because they also live in Bahrain (I swear, I have relatives everywhere!). I had such a blast with them. Though I was wearing heels, we played soccer (football) and jumped on their trampoline (I took off my shoes for that part), played hide and go seek and basically had an all around great time. The next morning we were invited for breakfast and this time, I came prepared with smarter shoes…unfortunately, I rolled my ankle within the first 10 minutes. I just don’t get my life sometimes. I should have rolled it in the heels, not flats…Whatever.

Yesterday was the coolest. My uncle took us all driving around Bahrain. We stopped at a beach on the larger Island and I got to see the Persian Gulf in all its glory. You know me and bodies of water, I loved just standing in the wind and breathing the air. After that we went to a wildlife refuge, or zoo of sorts. This was really exciting because I got to see animals I’d never seen before. They had these massive porcupines, and ostrich. The birds were huge…and the fence was not huge. I’m pretty sure they could just hop it if they wanted to. They most definitely could peck out my eye if they so pleased. After the zoo, we drove around saw the Bahrain International Circuit where the Formula One races take place. Apparently it’s a big deal for the area. Unfortunately it wasn’t in season, so the place was closed, but it was quite the sight just to see. We also drove through the less developed desert area that is basically a bunch of campgrounds where families (I mean FAMILIES, in the extended sense of the word) gather for the weekend with their ATV’s, their motorcycles, their fast cars, and drive around and party. There were people everywhere just having a good time with each other.

I’m sad to be leaving. It was great getting to know my cousins. (It’s the first time we’ve met). It felt great to finally see them, and experience their family. My favorite moments were the late night chats around their dinner table. Last night we stayed up ‘til three exchanging pictures and downloading Arabic music to complete my cultural experience. My cousin Hadeel, insists that I use the music as a means of memorizing Arabic. I will take her advice and rock out to Amr Diab and Tamir Husni, for educational purposes of course.

So now, I’m on my way back to Cairo. Back to class. Back to a fairly normal routine. By the way, I absolutely love traveling in the Middle East. No one looks at me like they are scared. Everybody is chill and helpful and they shrug it off if your baggage weighs a little more than it’s supposed to. It’s great. Back in the states I almost had to pay a $50 fee for 1 pound overweight. Sigh…

Anyway, I’d best go focus on my flight schedule, or hmmm…work on that homework I’ve put off for two weeks.

Smile,

Sarrah

Amman, Jordan.

Eid al-Adha 2008

I feel it’s been a while since I wrote last. Internet access was harder to find in Amman, plus I was spending lots of time with the fam. There are also reasons such as my near heart attack. My computer broke. It wouldn’t start up and I thought I was going to be lost forever to the non-digital world. I was beginning to alter my sense of reality in order to cope with my loss when a glimmer of hope appeared. You can’t imagine my joy and thankfulness when my cousin Nur was like, “dude, all I have to do is this” and it started working (after like an hour, but whatever). I realize that many of you kindly suggested that I purchase a new one BEFORE I left the country…but I just want it to last a couple of more months until I get home. It’s kind of a piece of work at the moment. I’ve got a c-clamp holding the screen together because there is a cable that is broken…yeah..ok…I know.

So I was in Amman for a little over a week. It’s been great seeing all my extended family again. The last time I saw many of them was when I came almost 5 years ago. I’ve spent much of the time going from house to house to house visiting great aunts and great uncles. It’s so funny, after the initial greeting almost everyone comments on how much I look like my grandmother (from the nose up). I found some old pictures of her in my grandfather’s house and I guess I can see it.

We celebrated Eid, the second Islamic holiday earlier this week. Actually we’re still celebrating it. Here…people actually get the days off of work and school and it’s an actual celebration. In the states, it kind of sucks because it often coincides with finals and the regular work schedule. I was looking at one of my relatives family pictures, they get one taken every Eid and it got me thinking to when the last time my family had actually been all together (and not in school or work) for Eid… I’m still trying to figure out when that was…probably before I went to college.

Ok, back to Eid in Amman. I spent the night before at my great uncle’s house, and we got up really early to go to the Eid prayer at the closest mosque. (There are a lot of them). After the prayer we went to one of my extended cousin’s houses. She’s got a set of 4 year old triplets and her husband is in Kuwait at the moment so my Aunt and I spent the day going around to the many relative’s houses with them. It was great! We each had a kid that we were in charge of. After the first few stops they got tired out and that’s when it got really entertaining. I think the most entertaining scene happened when one of the boys’ toy ball fell out of the car and rolled down the mountainous street. I, in my heels was running down the street after it. It finally got stuck under a car, and was retrieved, but not without a whole lot of effort and laughter.

The next few days I spent with the triplets as well. I think I learned more Arabic from them than I have in two weeks of class. They must think I’m the slowest adult in the world. I kept asking them to repeat stuff and to point to stuff and when I would talk back in Arabic, they’d give me this “Um, ooookay?” look. Speaking of Arabic, I think I’m progressing. I’m terrible at putting sentences together, but I understand so much. It’s so funny. I never knew how much I could understand. All week I’ve been with relatives and I can sit and listen to a conversation, laugh at sarcasm, understand the details and get jokes. Very different from the last time I was in Jordan. The problem is, as you all know, I like to talk, and input into the conversation and well, I can’t do that yet. It literally feels as if I’m mute. As if I can’t in any way contribute and that’s hard for me. Actually that was the most frustrating thing about being in Jordan.

Besides spending so much lost time with my Aunt Samreen, which was great, I did a lot of shopping, and seeing people, and eating fast food, and enjoying real shawarma (Egypt has nothing on the Jordanian sandwich shops, I don’t care what people say). Shopping is always an intricate experience. My aunt is the world’s best bargainer. No joke. We go into a shop, that has listed prices, pick out stuff and it’s like watching magic. The shopkeeper says one thing, she scoffs, the shopkeeper says another, she looks at me and is like “let’s get outta here.” I’ve learned to go along with whatever, no matter how badly I wanted what we set out to purchase. Inevitably the shopkeeper caves, puts the stuff in a bag. Tells me “mabrook” (congrats) and looks like they’ve been through hell and back as they sit down out of utter exhaustion. Many have told me that my aunt is a keeper, and that I should never go shopping without her. I tend to agree with them. I can’t wait ‘til she visits me in Egypt!

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to really see the sights, as it were, in Jordan. We wanted to go to the Dead Sea, but the plans fell through. I hope to perhaps get there again at some point, but winter is probably not the best time to float across a salty body of water. It’s actually “winter” here, unlike Egypt. It’s pretty decently cold, although there is no snow yet. Apparently that comes in January and February. Darn…I’ll miss it.

So, I started this email in Jordan, and now I’m sitting in my cousin’s room in Bahrain. I flew in last night. Traveling alone is always an adventure. There was a point of time that I thought I lost my baggage. Turns out they pointed me to the wrong baggage claim, or I misunderstood them (probably the latter). Thankfully, I found everything and the Bahrain airport baggage people just shook their head at my confusion. I think the most entertaining part of my trip was when the sweater I was wearing got stuck on my suitcase as it was going through the x-ray machine. No joke, I almost did a Mr. Bean and hopped right on the conveyor belt along with the bag. Fortunately I got unattached before it went under the machine, but I just sat there, alone, laughing to myself at my comical experiences with getting stuck in and on things. Sigh… Wish you could have been there to laugh at me.

While waiting in the terminal this blonde lady comes up to me and starts speaking to me in Arabic. I was like, um…I only speak English and she frowned confusedly and then was like, are you Amina? I was like, no, I’m Sarrah. She apparently thought I was someone else, but because I spoke English she was excited to speak to me. She asked me where I was from, etc. When she found out that I was half Palestinian and half American she turned to her husband and was like, “She’s half!, like our kids!” I’m happy I could make her day, just by being born.

Today happens to be National Day for Bahrain, so school’s out, the party is on, and I think I might be able to see some fireworks. I’m really excited about getting to know my cousins. They grew up in Australia, so communicating will be not only doable, but really fun to listen to.

More to come!

-Sarrah

12-16-2008

I was flipping through my pictures of Jordan and I realized I didn’t really write about the things I did do besides visit family. Samreen took me to an engagement party one night which was an experience. I got to thinking about how my family is probably going to have to do weddings. Talk about a cross cultural experience. I can’t even imagine it. I’m thinking we’ll do a Virginia Reel and Dabka mix for the dance party. I’ll have to get working on that I suppose. No, seriously, it was an interesting experience. First off, the party is separated men and women, because in our religion men and women don’t sing and dance in front of each other. So, obviously I was on the girl’s side. Honestly it felt like one of our Girl Scout dance parties. The party started by the couple walking in and going up to the front of the hall where they were basically on display for all to see. Lots of pictures were taken and everybody was smiling from ear to ear. After that, the new couple danced to a couple of songs that were specifically chosen for them, this part reminded me of the “first dance” at a wedding reception. After that the groom left, and it was a free for all. The scarves came off and everyone was bustin’ moves. I don’t know if this is proper to say, but dag yo… those girls could dance. Yeah, that’s all I’ll say about that.

Another experience I had was going to my great Uncle Mohammad AbuLughod’s farm. They have an olive grove out in Salt, which is a city out of Amman. It was so beautiful! We all sat around for the afternoon, drinking tea, enjoying the fireplace, the country air, the Ud music that my great Uncle was playing. His 13 year old grandson took me around the farm so I could take pictures. It was around sunset, so they all turned out a little blurry and are not my best but they kind of capture the surreal atmosphere. Apparently that night was the night that the moon was supposed to be the largest ever from the perspective of the human eye, and so I took pictures. Again, blurry…but I did my best.

Alas, alack…

-Sarrah

About the bugs. So I’ve become a popular visit for the local mosquito population. I suppose that’s what I get for missing all the mosquitoes at my home swamp in Wisconsin this summer, although DC had its fair share, so I guess I don’t know what this is all about. I’ve never actually seen these mosquitoes, I just all of a sudden have a bite on my arm. I kind of look like a chicken pox case at the moment. Thank God, I’ve not experienced the massive cockroaches they have here yet, though I think I saw my first tarantula. Actually Rizwaan spotted it while we were walking down the street and yeah…I stepped back. It was a little smaller than my hand. Sigh. I suppose that helps keep the other bug population down, but seriously…

Other bugs I’ve experienced are the stomach kind. I’ve been queasy for the past few days and it’s getting old… Any suggestions for “queasy” will be much appreciated.

The stomach problems haven’t slowed me down as of yet. Tonight I hopped a cab and met Sahar and Rizwaan (Sahar is my new roomie, and Rizwaan is my friend from Madison, DC and now Cairo) in a very old part of the city called, Sayidah Zaynab. A good number of the family of the Prophet Mohammad are said to have been buried in the area and there are memorials and tombs along the old streets where people visit and pay respects. As I was driving there, I was thinking about all the memorials and monuments I visited this summer in DC and how this was an interesting contrast and comparison. I didn’t really know what to expect, or how I would feel but I surprised myself with how moved I was upon seeing the tombs.

We went kind of late at night and for a few of the tombs the caretaker opened them just for us, which was very special. Three of the memorials we visited were to/of very close female relatives of the Prophet (granddaughters and great granddaughter) who hold very substantial roles in the history of Islam and it was powerful to be standing there. I got goosebumpy and teary eyed. It was really nice to see such respect given to these women.

So it’s almost Eid al-Adha, the second holiday for Muslims. I’m actually going to be in Amman, Jordan with family for the holiday, but I’ve enjoyed seeing the preparations all over the city. Much like for Christmas, colorful electric lights are being strung up everywhere. There are tents set up on dozens of streets where farmers have brought their livestock to “market” per se. Our very own street has its own little farm animal petting zoo (not for long!). The butcher shops are especially decorative and are obviously preparing for the day. I’d love to go into detail about the details of this Eid, but man…I’m not sure my stomach is up for it at the moment. If you are interested, I suggest you look up the significance of the ram in the Quranic/Biblical story of Abraham/Ibrahim and the sacrifice of his son. Yeah, nuff said?

Oh, I wanted to tell you about a few more cab experiences I’ve had. So far, so good. I’m still pretty nervous about traveling without complete control of the language, but you know, I’ll get over that. I’ve been getting around pretty successfully and um, it’s interesting. So I’m not sure if people are worried about light pollution here or what? But sometimes people don’t drive with their lights on at night. No, let me take that back, OFTEN people don’t drive with their lights on at night. They just casually switch them off, like it’s no big thing. I mean I’m trying but…ok…no I don’t think I can understand this one. They aren’t saving a substantial amount of energy by doing this and they ARE risking their lives and the lives of the pedestrians that are constantly in the street. The other day I was in a cab and he switched off his lights and we were going along at a steady pace and all of a sudden he’s like “Ahhhh!” because there was this huuuge crater sized pothole that we nearly landed in that he would have seen a mile ahead had he had his lights on. Perhaps someone can explain this to me?

Though that was a near miss, I’ve actually been in an “accident.” I forgot to write about it though it happened a long time ago. We were driving with one of Sahar’s friends and we were in a traffic jam (common) and she rear ended the dude in front of her. We were all like, “oh, no” and the dude just looked in his rearview mirror, made eye contact with her and put both his hands up in the “what!” position. She put her hand up in the “I’m sorry (ma’lesh) position, and then he put his hand in the “no problem” (mish mooshkillah) position and my jaw was in the “no way did that guy just let us off” position! But he did, he just drove off. No questions asked. There was really no damage at all on either car, but in America…lawyers would have been called.

So yeah. I’m on my way tomorrow (Inshallah) to Amman, Jordan. I’ll be spending a week with the many lovely family members I have there. I met many of them 4 years ago when I went with my dad and Casem for a month and a half. I’m so excited about seeing everyone. I remember as I flew home from that last trip wondering if I’d ever see my cousins again (silly, I know, but a true concern of mine) and now here I am. I’m really looking forward to just being in a family again. I miss mine a lot. (psst! I miss you guys a lot!) After Amman, I’ve got a ticket to Bahrain to visit my uncle and his family. I’m especially excited about going there because, well, it’s new and because this will be my first time meeting my first cousins. They grew up in Australia and well, I haven’t gotten there yet. Now they are in Bahrain, so that’s where I’ll be. I’ll be back in Cairo on the 20^th of December. Just in time to not do any last minute Christmas shopping (I really want egg nog by the way, and a pumpkin spice latte…sigh, I’m such a product of my environment, and I know it!)

Well, that’s all I’ve got. It’s like 3 AM here…Catch you on the flipside!

-Sarrah

Ok guys. I’m at a loss for words. By the end of this post, I’m sure that won’t be my problem, but I’m having a hard time starting to tell you about this weekend. Most likely it has something to do with how little sleep I got in the last 48 hours, but I’ll do my best.

So Thursday at midnight, Mona, Saba, Rabea and I hopped a bus to Dahab which is across the Sinai (the big chunk that hangs off the northeast of Egypt). Dahab is this chillax tourist town that is basically this one long street that goes along the sea (actually the Gulf of Aqaba). It’s absolutely marvelous, full of outdoor restaurants with names like Friends, and Same Same, and Aladdin’s. We spent a good amount of time at Friends because they gave us a good deal for breakfast when we got there. We arrived around 9 in the morning after a bus ride of rocky sleep, where I basically woke up every hour on the hour either because of the bumpy road, or a passport checkpoint, (they have a lot of those).

After a mushroom omelet at Friends (“where you come as strangers and leave as friends”) and more fresh juice, we spent the morning relaxing on the sea, watching Russian tourists squeeze into diving gear and other such amusing sights. (Apparently Dahab is a hot spot for the Russians, as almost all the menus were trilingual in Arabic, Russian and English.)

When we got motivated to move, which was hard because of a combination of lack of sleep and warm sunshine and comfy lounge couches, we found our way to this little shop that rented out snorkel gear. For 10 pounds or 2 dollars we were fitted with snorkel masks and flippers and pointed in the direction of some reef to see.

Ok, so people in snorkel gear look funny. People fully clothed and in snorkel gear look even funnier. So funny in fact, we became a sort of tourist attraction in our own rite. As we were getting ready, this elderly German tourist was sitting at his little table under an umbrella not 6 feet away snapping pictures and chuckling to himself, which was a little uncomfortable. It was as if he didn’t think we could see him. But we could…and we stared back and he just kept snapping pictures until he felt the need to come over and toss some German candy at us as if we really were the zoo animals he was treating us as.

This insensitive action got the notice of other (more polite) German tourists who got really angry at the former German. They verbally duked it out for a little while and though we didn’t understand what was going on, it was obvious that they were apologetic and upset at the old man’s actions. I basically didn’t know what to think. I mean, I thought my role as a zoo attraction was limited to the area of the world where I’m a visual minority. Guess not. I suppose the only thing to do now is chuckle along with the man.

Thankfully, this incident didn’t ruin the snorkeling experience at all. The water was salty, the fish were colorful, the floating was easy, and the whole thing was amazing.

After we got out of the water and dried off a bit in the sun we met some more friends who had come the night before for a meal that might have been lunch or it might have been dinner, I’m not sure because my clock was so off. I had a fresh tomato soup in another outdoor café, (this one went by the name, “Funny Mummy”). It turned out there were a lot of people visiting Dahab from extended friend networks and I was introduced to lots of people from lots of places who all happened to be at the same place at the same time. I met two individuals who are “half-children” like myself. One was half-Egyptian-half-American and the other was just like me! Dad from Palestine, Mom from Wisconsin! No joke. I’m in the process of figuring out if we’re cousins (from either side).

11 PM rolled around and I hopped another bus to Mt. Sinai. If Dahab was the most relaxing place in the world, Mt. Sinai was a great juxtaposition. I spent the next three hours along with hundreds of other people slowly making my way up the mountain in the dark. It was surreal. I’ve never seen the stars I saw on that trek. It seemed as if every time I managed to glance upwards (which wasn’t very often because I was afraid of losing my footing), I saw a shooting star. I think I counted six or seven.

Physically, it was a very taxing trip. I mean, I probably could have managed better if I just went at my own pace, but I was with a bunch of people and I tried to keep up with them the whole time which was hard (still 5 feet tall, ya’ll!). By the time I got up to the top, I’d developed a cough from breathing in so much dust and cold air, but it was so worth it.

Trying to describe the atmosphere of the climb is almost impossible. On the way up there isn’t much noise aside from the wind and some insistent loser’s cell phone ring. Other noises include the grunts and moans of the dozens of camels that slowly make their way past you as they carry less fiscally conservative tourists. Actually the camels are something to talk about. At the bottom of the mountain as we made our way to the path, we were walking through this field of sorts and all of a sudden I flipped on my flashlight only to see that I was surrounded by probably close to 50 camels on all sides. They were just chillin’ with their owners, waiting for someone to break. It was like that classic scene in a movie when the main characters stumble into the bear cave and then someone turns on their light and all around them are bears, except…these were camels…Ok maybe that wasn’t a great example, but I hope you know what I’m getting at.

Back to the climb. So, every so often we’d come across a miniature hut that sold candy and water and tea and coffee. These were a welcome sight to me as it gave me an opportunity to catch up with everyone. In the end it didn’t matter because at the top we almost all got separated, but whatever. I took advantage of these stops to glance down from whence I’d come only to see a very surreal, almost wormlike trail of bobbing lights snaking up the mountain. The trail was lit by individuals and their flashlights, all heading in the same direction.

When I got to the top it was just about sunrise so I found a place to pray fajr (morning prayer) amongst hundreds of people all there for very different reasons. Some were Christians there on pilgrimage, some were just tourists there for an “experience,” many were European, many were Japanese, many were African, many were old, many were alone, many were together. It was kind of how I imagine the hajj to be, except many religions were represented. I was alone amongst hundreds. ( I suppose in the case of hajj it’ll be millions, but whatever.)

Up at the top of the mountain it is very windy and very cold. I “rented” a blanket for 20 pounds (yikes!) and sat to watch the sun rise. I haven’t done that in a while. I think the last time was when I was on a coast and I saw it rise over the Atlantic Ocean. The top of a mountain is a whole new experience for a sunrise. Every crevice and crater is lit at a certain moment. The sun slowly creeps up over the hill. There was a very audible gasp and genuine feeling of awe in the air at the second the sun actually rose. It’s hard to explain the emotions of the surrounding people. Definitely an experience I’m glad to have had despite the three hour climb and bone chilling wind. I left with chapped lips and windburn, not to mention some sore muscles.

We got to the bottom by 9 am and I definitely started feeling the lack of sleep at this point. I’m still surprised at how well I functioned and how I didn’t get sick, what with the no sleep, the cold, the sporadic food intake etc. We were back in Dahab by 11:30 AM for a quick bite to eat and then another 9 hour bus ride to Cairo (in which I didn’t sleep). Thank God for extended weekends! I was able to catch up on Sunday before my Monday morning Arabic class.

So yeah, I feel really really blessed. There’s no other word for it. This adventure continues. There are pictures to accompany this post, but they have yet to be added to my computer. I can’t wait to share them. I hear Wisconsin’s in the midst of a snowstorm. The 70’s continue here. In other news, I have a new roommate. Her name is Sahar and she’s teaching me how to cook Bengali food! So exiting! More to come!

Salams,

Sarrah

Yeah so…it’s different here. I haven’t talked much about the little things that will soon become the norm, but I’ve been trying to find a way to explain things without seeming too much in awe, or even seemingly arrogant or condescending about the whole thing. I feel as if it is easy to slip into arrogance when writing about something that is “different” and I really don’t mean to be at all, if I tend to come off that way.

Little things like the bowab, or doorman that is a part of the living experience. He’s a man whose job it is to basically be the manager of the apartment complex. He helps you if something breaks, he lends you a hand as you carry things up the stairs if you need him to, he ensures the security of the building and knows who goes where when. I’ve recently joined a listserve online that caters mostly to foreigners who are studying here in Cairo. Recently, because of the holiday season, many posts are about people trying to sublet their apartments. Along with descriptions of “free wireless” and “fully furnished” and “washing machine in apartment” are descriptions like, “Really nice bowab, not nosey, doesn’t care if your guests are of opposite gender,” and the like. So this got me thinking, I mean, Cairo of all places is a pretty hopping, modern, cosmopolitan place. Though it is obvious that religion is a very large part of the culture, what with the call to prayer being blasted all throughout the city, five times a day, the traveling prayer inscribed in taxi’s, buses, and even elevators (yikes!), women walking around in scarves and niqab (everything covered even the face, and hands), it is still pretty “open,” if that is the word to use. What I mean by this is that, though the religion doesn’t allow the consumption of alcohol, you know of where to get it and you know people who drink. Though gender interactions are limited in Islam, you see more couples mooning over each other than a Parisian street during Valentines. (I’m so naïve. At first, I was like, dude…these siblings are all really close!)

Anyway…back to the bowab. It seems as if, though the religion is not “forced” upon people by any means, (you see just about as many women without scarves, etc) the culture remains. Bowabs get uneasy if you bring a person of the opposite gender into your house. I’ve heard of groups of girls who’ve gotten kicked out of their apartments because of having guy friends over on a regular basis. However, nobody has a problem with limited amounts of PDA (public displays of affection) on the streets, in the parks, at the movies…just not in private places. Just pondering this, I’m sure it’s old news to some of you, but it’s new to me.

Other observations… Some of Cairo seems so old. Ok…duh. It’s an ancient city, of course it’s old. But I mean, you see cars from decades ago, horse and cart, 50’s style décor, little boys shining shoes on the sidewalk, men in full on Bedouin garb, donkey carts selling bananas, all in one glance. But then you blink…and you see iphones, Mercedes Benz’s, Gucci and Calvin Kline scarves, shoes, shirts, glasses, stiletto heels. In the morning, I wake to sounds of horse’s hooves clopping down the street, and then I hear men yelling out to the people, selling their wears, and then I hear cell phone rings, and honking horns and the hum of a technologically advanced society. It’s like a movie! I’m stuck in some time hybridization simulation.

A note of caution to all my Veggie/Vegan friends…I’m going to be talking about meat. I mean…yeah. Ok so, I was walking to and from school today and I passed this butcher shop. The first time I walked by I noticed how specifically clean their storefront was as compared to the neighboring storefront sidewalks. Today when I walked by, I noticed, that they kind of have to clean up, and often, to keep the cats away. (Cats are rats here!) There were two men struggling with the headless body (for lack of a better word) of a sheep that was skinned except for its tail and the area around its hooves. I’m not sure how much detail I should get into here, but let’s just say it was gutted, or in the process of being so. No biggie, I’ve seen this before (flashback to childhood memories of Eid al-Adha at my house when it was celebrated during the summer). What I haven’t seen before was what I saw when I glanced to my left to the street where a car was parked. Yeah, so this car was full of these skinless sheep. I’m not talking just the trunk, no…I mean the whole car. There were sheep in the front seat, sheep in the back seat, sheep, sheep, sheep, lots and lots of sheep! Lots and lots of skinless, headless sheep!

I’m sorry. I had to share that experience. I’m done. Dear Veggie/Vegan friends, you can continue reading here. I’m sorry if I offended…I just couldn’t keep that experience in.

Yeah. So there, I tried. Some things are…different, not better, not worse, just different.

One thing about Cairo that I’ve never experienced being a Midwestern girl, is constant good weather. I mean, it is winter here, which means it’s consistently between 70 and 80 degrees, always sunny, and it never rains. I’ve been here about 2 weeks and man, not a change. Evenings get a little chilly, but it’s nothing a hoodie can’t handle. I was thinking about how nobody probably talks about the weather here. There’s nothing much to talk about. It’s such a common topic of conversation for me, it’s hard not to ask about it.

We took advantage of the good weather and took a train to Alexandria this weekend. Mona and my friend Saba from California and her friend Rabea all jumped the tracks and had a relaxing day on the Mediterranean Sea. I love saying that. I was on the Mediterranean. I think there is something inherently wrong with me. I love large bodies of water. When I was in New York last summer, my favorite day was the one spent on the Atlantic, when I was in Amman as a teenager; my favorite day was the one where we went to the Dead Sea. Likewise on any Girl Scout trip I’ve ever gone on, I always have the best memories on the water. At least I’m consistent, like the weather in Cairo.

The train ride was fun, a little hectic, but enjoyable nonetheless. When we first got on, some men were sitting in our assigned seats and seemed a little annoyed when we asked them to move. They got over it soon enough and helped us turn our seats to face each other after they saw us straining to converse with one another behind our seats. In the end it all worked out, and we got off at the right stop.

Our first stop in Alexandria was another juice stand, where I got a fresh mango banana drink. Soo good. I can’t help but tell you about every juice drink I get. “Fresh” has a different meaning here. We can’t conceptualize “fresh” in America, unless maybe we’re talking about lettuce.

We bought a liter to “take away” and headed to a famous fool and ta’meeya place. Fool is pretty much a staple, it’s a bean, garlic, olive oil, onion, tomato, and cilantro paste eaten with pita bread. Ta’meeya is the Egyptian way of saying Falafel. Both delish, and quite inexpensive. Post food, we walked along the Cornish or the road that goes along the Mediterranean and breathed the sea air.

While in “Alex” as it is called by some, our touristy stops included two architecturally beautiful mosques, one in which was the tomb of the man who wrote the “Burdah,” for those of you familiar with this rhythmic prayer. Another stop was the Montaza palace park where we spent most of our time lounging in the grass and enjoying the day. We also walked along the sea and got splashed as the powerful waves hit the breakwater. I also saw a little cat that made its way out onto the breakwater rocks who wasn’t enjoying the splashing as much as I was. Poor thing… I’m sure it was there for a reason, fish perhaps?

We found this great outdoor café on the Cornish that is tucked away from the busy road (busy like BUSY, OMG!) (Don’t tell my parents, but Saba’s roommate just got hit while trying to cross the street, it’s a whole different story here!) (P.S. Saba’s roommate is ok) Ok, back to the café, yeah…I got mint tea and took pictures and enjoyed the sunset.

Rabea and I took our chances and crossed the street to experience the Alexandria Bibliotheca! So exciting. This place is so amazing, I’m putting a link in this post! http://www.bibalex.org/libraries/presentation/static/10000.aspx You all must see it someday or just go to the website and enjoy all it has to offer. We took the English tour, which made me feel like I was back home. Not because of the English, but because once again, I was the minority as far as looks go. The British and American tourists kind of gave sidelong glances at me and Rabea when we first joined the group because of our scarves. I got a chuckle out of that.

After the library, we got some dinner, met some of Saba’s Egyptian friends and took them to McDonalds for a true American experience of ice cream and apple pie, (I can’t believe we did that!) and then Mona and I headed home. The train ride home was a little more disconcerting because it was late at night. It wasn’t unsafe or anything, it was more the fact that if we fell asleep and missed our stop, we’d end up in Luxor…which is waaaay farther south (like 14 hours, I think) than we wanted.

Yeah, so Alexandria was amazing, and tiring, and relaxing at the same time. At points I didn’t feel as if we’d left Cairo and at others, it felt like a whole new world. I’m happy to have gone, and will hopefully get there again.

So, today was my first day of school! I felt like a kid again. (Actually, I feel like a kid everyday because everything I do on a daily basis, from buying stamps to getting in a cab, feels like a huge accomplishment to me) I went out and bought notebooks and pencils because for some reason I forgot to bring anything of the sort. This morning I walked to the school and had four hours of Arabic. The first two were the classical and the last two were the colloquial. Neither of my teachers speaks English, which…is good. Now I really, really really have to try. Communicating is very interesting. Actually while one of the teachers was helping me read flash cards of fruit I ran across an avocado (afogado) and she understood from my expression that I like them, and I understood from hers that she didn’t so I gave her the recipe for guacamole and she seemed to think that adding garlic and salt might improve the fruit a bit. I’m going to ask her on Wednesday if she tried it.

Ok, enough about me, more about you. Keep the emails coming. I hear it finally snowed a substantial amount in Wisconsin. Save a snowball in your freezers for me!

Peacing out,

Sarrah

Salam all,

Today I went to school with Mona. She goesto the American University of Cairo (AUC). The campus has recently been moved out into a newly developed/ developing part of the desert from its old location in the heart of Downtown. More than a few exchange students are upset by this, and not to belittle their opinions, because I totally understand not wanting to experience a literal bubble while pursuing higher education, but the campus is beautiful. I’ll attach photos. It’s brand spankin’ new which means it comes with all the kinks and faults of a place that was moved into before it was finished.

Post school day, Mona and I took a bus to Giza where I met my old-time family friend Amo Ahmed and experienced the wonder that is: The Light and Sound Show at the pyramids! It’s actually a pretty cool spectacle. They project laser lights and give the history of how, when and why the pyramids were constructed. It was quite quaint. The most quaint part was when some special diplomat came in right at the end of the show (he was stuck in traffic) and sat in front with his like 25 body guards and stunt doubles. I totally didn’t mind this disruption because, in honor of the diplomat there were these Egyptian dudes dressed up as Pharoah’s playing bagpipes and I mean, when am I ever gonna see that again?

The disruption I did mind however, was trying to leave and having to wait while traffic was stopped for an hour while the diplomat took his sweet ol’ time leaving the pyramids. No worries, I was quickly entertained by all the people who got out of their cars and started drinking tea on the side of the road. Some got dinner, some smoked sheesha…and we sat and waited… Once the roadblock was down, people magically were back in their respective vehicles and we were on our way.

I will never cease to be amazed. Roadside tea…sigh.

Speaking of amazement…let me tell you about the scarf situation here. Ok, so those of you who have known me for a while know that my colorful collection and of scarves is kind of a new thing. All through high school I basically only wore black. It’s true…ask anyone who knew me back then. So you can imagine how taken aback I was (am) of the amazing variation of styles and colors and matchyness that goes on in the streets of Cairo. Ok so, I don’t know how to explain this, I’ve been trying for some time now. The scarves here are as much a fashion symbol as Coach purses are. The ladies do it up! Everything matches. I don’t mean one shade of green for the scarf, another for the shirt, another for the shirt, another for the shoes…No, I mean ALL the same shade, variations in patterns, and scarf wrapping salons! Yes, that’s what I said, you can go to the salon and get your scarf wrapped! I’m so…in awe.
It’s kind of not prudent for me to be snapping pictures at random girls while my mouth is hanging open in amazement at the amount of thought and time that went into these girls getting dressed in the morning, but I really don’t think I’m doing this topic justice.One of the fashions requires at least 3 or 4 scarves wrapped around and around and around until the girl’s head is like 3 times its normal size. I coined the term, “storm trooper” because of how the scarf bundle was as wide as their shoulders, until I learned the real name which is firouni or “pharaoh” which makes more sense because of the multiple colors involved.

I’m not kidding…I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.

Ok…enough of my silly banter. Be good. Those of you in the Midwest, write me of snow. Those who aren’t can laugh along with me!

Peacing out,

Sarrah.

Dear Friends,

So, here I am. Almost having been here a week, I feel pretty accomplished. Mostly because in the past few hours I did some pretty substantial firsts. I walked about 45 minutes to my new Arabic school, almost got lost, then got my bearings and continued. I was asked directions by a lady on the street and I told her (in Arabic) that I was sorry but I’m not from around here. Perhaps she understood me, perhaps not, but she smiled and nodded…I think by that she meant, “dag yo, I totally asked the wrong person.” Yeah, that’s probably it. I signed up for 100 hours of combo colloquial and fus-ha (or classical) Arabic lessons. I met 2 other Sarrahs in the process and collected another girl from Texas’ number. It’s crazy how every body just tosses their phone number around. It’s kind of nice though, because when they say, “If you need anything, ANYthing, just call.” They really mean it. It’s what you do, ya know?

Post class signing up, I decided to bite the bullet and get in a cab to get home rather than walk. (P.S. the people at the school were pretty impressed that I had walked the whole way, but I think I’ll do it on a daily basis because otherwise I don’t get much exercise.) I have been seriously dreading the riding in a taxi alone experience. Whenever anyone gives me advice about Cairo, it’s always about the taxis. “Don’t talk to the drivers.” “Make sure you know how much the ride should cost?” “Don’t ride alone at night.” Etc. Cabs here don’t have a meter system, you just haggle until you agree on a price. This makes things a little tricky as a foreigner…especially an non-Arabic speaking foreigner. They tend to overcharge.

But, it’s basically impossible to get around the city without the cabs. The metro system has only two lines and doesn’t go much of anywhere. The microbuses, are well, crowded and basically a sardine can doesn’t even come close to an accurate description, so that’s not an option. I haven’t figured out the bus system, I’m not sure there is a system…all I’ve seen of the busses is that the “stops” are more like “rolls” and you basically have to jump to get on, along with 12 other people, and I’m short…nuff said.

So yeah. I knew I had to do it some point and so I practiced the directions home, I asked how much it should cost from my peeps, and stuck my hand out into traffic. I caught the first one that drove by, said my spiel, which I think he half understood and got in. The dude asked for 8 pounds! I told him 3. He said “No, 5, Are you from America?” I was like, dangit! My cover is blown! “NO way man! 3.” He insisted on 5, I said no and the remainder of the ride was in silence. I gave him 4 in the end, but whatever. I did it. It’s a big accomplishment for me. I mean, for all of you who have been to Egypt or are native Arabic speakers, or whatever, I suppose this isn’t a big deal. For me, it’s a big step. Ok, I’m done patting myself on the back.

I’m sending along pictures of my apartment. I live on the second floor above the little shops. It’s a great place. I’ve made my bedroom homey by putting up a map of Egypt above my bed. Every time I walk in the room, I’m like, dude! I’m in Egypt! It’s kind of cool.

I had my first bit of kushari, a major Egyptian staple yesterday. It’s a rice and lentil dish with pasta and garlic and onions and tomato sauce. It’s basically amazing. There’s a fast food place called Tom ‘o Bassal. Which means (I think) Garlic and Onions that sells basically only kushari. I bet my grandfather would totally love the place!

Incase anyone follows soccer, or futbol, the Africa Cup was yesterday and the club teams were competing. I was at a shopping complex and it was quite the site. All around there were televisions with groups of men huddled in anticipation. About an hour later, the entire shopping center erupted in clapping and yelling and shouting and ululating because the Ahley Club team had one! Fortunately I happened to be wearing the team colors which people kept yelling in mini parades with drums and flags down the street. ‘Ahmar! (red) wa Abyad! (white) I totally got swept up in the crowd and managed a few videos on my camera. I haven’t been able to figure out how to send video’s yet, but I’ll attach some photos.

Thanks for all those who have replied or commented. I love hearing from home. It’s so great to hear your reactions to my stories. Keep them coming!

Wasalam (peace),

Sarrah

Pics: The soccer game crowd outside a McDonalds and a banana truck loaded to the max.

I can’t believe I’ve only been here a few days and already I’ve done so much. Yesterday was overwhelming in its own right what with the pyramids etc…but today was just as much the whirlwind experience.

Friday starts the weekend here, just like our Saturday in the States. It’s great, because cars are off the street, so the taxi fares are cheaper and people are all heading in the direction of masjids (mosques) rather than out shopping or whatever we do on Saturday mornings besides cartoons (I guess in my family it would be more like taking our recycling off to the center, but whatever.) So we hitched a taxi to the Sultan Hassan masjid and experienced this 14^th century wonder! Cairo is a bit of a sensory overload. There’s constant noise, constant color and movement and stepping into this masjid was like taking a deep breath and plunging into another world. The outside is pretty ornate as far as calligraphy and carvings into the minaret and outer structure but the color is all the same.

At the door I took off my shoes and had the option of giving them to a man who was sitting in a booth where he put shoes in cubbies. I declined, slipped them into my bag and stepped into the dark and serene contrast that is the Sultan Hassan masjid. The sermon had already started and was being broadcasted on loudspeakers in the halls and out over the surrounding city. The main hall was this huge open air room with a fountain for washing before prayer in the middle. On each side of the square room was a huge alcove area where the actual prayers take place. One of the neat things about being in a masjid that was built as a masjid is that everything architecturally points towards Mecca. In America, many of the current masjids were built as some other type of building initially so the communities had to fit the room to the prayer direction and it doesn’t always flow so nicely.

At the prayer I met a few girls who heard me speaking English. They were some students from Canada who were studying Arabic at the American University in Cairo. We exchanged numbers and promised to meet for lunch at some point. It’s so interesting how foreign Muslim students just gravitate towards each other here. Everybody seems to know somebody you know. There are a lot of students from Europe (apparently a huge Norwegian group, I can’t wait to meet them and tell them that I’m a bit Norwegian myself!) and America who study here and then fall in love with the place and end up working here at NGO’s or Non-profit organizations. It’s great. I’ve already met so many people and I’ve only really been here for a little less than a week.

After the prayer we bought shawarma sandwiches and hopped on a felucca and hit the Nile. I’m told that your first felucca ride is the most memorable and after that it becomes common place. I choose to ignore this sentiment and gush at the amazingness of the experience. It was so surreal. I was on a boat on the Nile with new friends from all over the United States. It was gorgeous, and the weather was perfect and I took lots of pictures and didn’t see any wildlife because…well…I’m in the middle of Cairo. I hope to perhaps see the Nile out of the city at some point, but for now, I’m satisfied. Egypt is an amazing country with so many gifts, the Nile being one of its most precious in my opinion.

Post felucca we found another Cahway where I had a juice cocktail that was decorated with fruit in such an artistic way that I had to take pictures. At some point this will all be the norm, but for now I’m going to enjoy the novelty of these little pleasures.

The next portion of my day is a little embarrassing. I went to a mall…not just a mall but the largest mall in all of Africa. It’s a place called City Stars and I only saw a tiny bit of this huge HUGE place. It’s nuts! I was so overwhelmed! It’s the most flashy and overdone place I’ve ever seen. The reason we went was to see the new James Bond movie…which was less than satisfactory and I’m not sure whether it is because the movie was censored in less than opportune plot changing moments, or whether it was just a spotty plotted movie. I guess I won’t know unless I watch it again. Yes, they censor movies here…but whatever, at least I can still buy Starbucks… (I kid, I kid!)

After this very American or at least very Western-feeling experience, we had to get home. This was an experience indeed…or it could have been. Though we weren’t far from home, it was late and walking wasn’t an option. So Mona and I opted to take a mini-bus upon our new acquaintance’s suggestion. After two mini-busses overstuffed to absolute over capacity (with only the male-type )while trailing a few stragglers hoping to jump on drove by… we opted to take a cab… Much better option. I swear, these buses were amazing. People were diving head first into them. There was absolutely no way I would have survived.

Tomorrow is another day to avoid traffic, learn some Arabic and experience this city of 16-20 million peop

Salamoalaykom and Hello,

Today has been marvelous. Marvelous! If my life were a video game I’d have risen like 20 levels in just one day. I’m serious. Just yesterday I was too afraid to ask the grocer downstairs for milk, so basically a “nube” in gamer speak, and today I rode in like 4 or 5 taxi’s, bought orange juice from a juice stand, told a vendor that I didn’t want the scarf he was offering because it wasn’t square and I mean…did I mention I saw the pyramids! I’m a pro at Egypt: the Game!

Ok, so let’s talk about how the adventure began. Well. I’m a big jetlagged as of yet so I got about 4 hours of sleep, waking at 6 AM for a 7 AM cab ride to Tahrir or a downtown area where the old campus of the American University of Cairo is. From there I met up with friends from Madison and from my program in Washington DC this summer and we did breakfast at a little shop that sold Fateer or this amazing Egyptian pastry with coconut and golden raisins and walnuts. So, so yummy. (I think you can also get it in pizza flavor for a lunch meal). After breakfast I wandered into a little bookstore to look for a decent map of the city. Turns out, there isn’t one. The most reliable looking map book had whole pages of maps that weren’t labeled, not because of a printer error….I think more because of the fact that many streets don’t have names. I couldn’t bring myself to give up 50 Egyptian Pounds for a book that had blank pages. Perhaps I’ll change my mind later. Right now, I’ll rely on my cell phone and the kindness of strangers who don’t mind me slaughtering the Arabic language when I ask for directions.

After breakfast we caught the metro to Giza where right off the stop we were profiled as tourists (did I mention that all of the people I was traveling with were American, but only one of us looked like one, and it wasn’t me, in fact I looked the most Egyptian if I do say so myself. I’ll attach a picture of the group and you can judge for yourself). So yeah, profiled…some “helpful” people wanted to hail a taxi for us, others wanted to show us where the bus will pick us up. Others wanted to sell us postcards, little pyramids, etc. We basically told them thank you and walked on our way. So there’s this incredible trick to being a “hijabi” or a girl who wears a scarf. I can totally ignore people who are trying to get my attention to buy something or “help” me and it’s not rude! I’m just labeled as an extremely “pious” woman because I won’t talk to them. I’m so gonna milk this! No, I shouldn’t abuse this power, but I will use it to my advantage when necessary.

So we found a taxi by ourselves and arranged the price and headed off in the direction of the pyramids. Not too long after driving through cityscape and residential areas they popped into view. I whipped out my camera right away and now have those special moments caught on digital! I’m very thankful for technology because it was a bumpy car ride and many a pic was deleted before I got the few perfect shots.

So here’s really where the adventure starts. We get stuck in traffic, like you do, and this guy runs up to the taxi window and starts telling us all about these horses and this horse ride to the pyramids, and how it’s basically the only way to get to them etc. Thankfully we were savvy of this behavior and kindly declined. He persisted, we said no thank you. He persisted. We said no, we don’t want horses. He persisted, we said NO! and he left….or so we thought. 5 minutes later I catch something out of the corner of my eye as we fly down this road. The guy had hopped on to the back of the cab and was riding along. I mention this to the driver and my friends and…at the next lag in the drive he hops off and starts trying again. This time our taxi driver helps us out by telling they guy no, but then drives us to the horse stables, which was kind of confusing for us. The dude on back jumps off and starts in on us again until we obviously get upset and the taxi driver yells at the guy to back off and we finally speed away… horseless.

This was only the beginning. The haggling only continued even after getting through the gates (which we barely got through because they sold me Egyptian tickets then asked to see my passport at the gate, which I couldn’t provide and had to go back to buy a tourist ticket, a difference of 28 Egyptian Pounds…) sigh. But guess what? It was so worth it! So worth it! Plus all that was part of the experience. Though it was a bit stressful at the time, I wouldn’t have wanted to change the experience. It was great! It was genuine and exhilarating. And I know I got ripped off but that’s not the point. I saw the pyramids.

And the day just got better. It involved my first fast food experience at Hardees for lunch. Tea at a little “Cahwey” for a relaxing few hours of just lounging around and enjoying the weekend. Cahwey’s are little, coffee shops that are basically lawn furniture pulled out into the street where people sit, smoke sheesha, drink tea and relax. Next we moved on to sunset at Al-Azhar park which was beyond words. I didn’t think I could be amazed so much in one day. Al-Azhar park is beautiful. From what I understand it is fairly new. It costs 5 lbs to get in and people just chill there. We went, climbed up the hill and watched the sunset over Cairo. We heard the call to prayer being blasted from all directions as the evening prayer came in. The park is basically an epitome of the word oasis. Cairo is colorful and busy, and flashy and loud and the park is green…and it has waterfalls, and quiet spots, and I dunno, I know it’s completely man made, (I hear it used to be a garbage dump) and artificial, but it’s a special place. Lots of families and groups of kids and happy people wander about. I plan to find some time to take a book and find a bench (which by the way, we were told are for sitting on after being caught resting on some stairs, which are not for sitting on) and enjoy an afternoon in the artificial beauty that is Al-Azhar park.

So much to do. So much! Coming soon: A Fallucca (boat) ride on the Nile, Chicken Shawarma, James Bond at City Star Mall- The largest Mall in Africa…Step aside Mall of America!

Salamoalaykom and Hello all!,

Sarrah here. For those of you who knew that I was going to Egypt, I made it. For those of you who didn’t know, guess what! I’m in Egypt. Cairo to be exact. It’s very exciting. I arrived yesterday evening after a 3 hour layover in Amman, Jordan in which I read a book in a World Cafe and found the “prayer room,” which was conveniently located across the airport through the Duty Free Mall. I didn’t Duty Free, but I did pray. Good for me.

So, I spent my first day sleeping. I’m kind of disappointed in myself but I guess I needed to catch up somehow anyway. Ok, I didn’t really sleep all day but seeing as it’s 1 AM right now…I obviously slept too long. I woke up at 2 PM and started unpacking, made a few phone calls, started looking at ticket prices for the next leg of my adventure, and then realized I was hungry.

Ok, so I’ve been to London before, and my most recent travels were in Washington DC. Guess what? In both of those places they speak English…In Egypt they speak Arabic. Duh, I know, it’s one of the reasons I came here, but…I don’t really have that strong of a command of the language and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to go downstairs to the grocery and get something to eat. I’m terrible! I know. I’m going to get over this fear…and soon, because…it turns out, I’m going to be spending much of the daylight hours that aren’t Thurs, Fri, Sat and Sun, mostly by myself.

So, more about the trip. The flight was mostly empty so I got to spend 12 hours in 2 seats in a plane filled with half military men returning to Iraq and half Arab families. Interesting combo. I sat next to (two seats away) an Army Medic who was on his way to Baghdad. We had a nice chat. He told me he approved of my travels. Said it was a good idea to see the world at a young age. I agreed with him, it was nice. Basically the flight was uneventful aside from being rudely awoken twice when the stewardess slammed the drink cart into my seat on accident (the first time was an accident, I’m not sure about the second). It’s okay though, because then I was awake to drink some orange juice.

When I got to Cairo, my good friend’s sister in law (whom I met about 4 years ago) and her son met me at the airport and drove me to my friend Mona’s apartment about a half an hour (with traffic) away. (Thanks Patty, Salwa’s the best!) So let me introduce you to Mona, because I’m sure I’ll be talking about her a lot. We met at UW-Madison, where we both graduated last year. She’s basically awesome and arranged for me to live with her during my time here in her parent’s apartment that they weren’t using. So here I am, in this massive fully furnished, fully amazing, fully functioning flat in Madinat Nasr, Cairo, Egypt. To quote Mona as she walked from one end of the apartment to the other because she forgot something in the dining room, “I seriously get winded walking back and forth like this.” It is great! I’m so thankful that this worked out.

So tomorrow, I intend to venture forth into the great beyond. Basically Mona and I are getting in a taxi, arranging the price beforehand,( cuz you have to haggle here) and heading to Downtown, where I’ll meet some other friends to catch the Metro to head to Giza, to catch another taxi to the pyramids. This should be interesting. I now have a cell phone so that makes things easier.

Guys, did I mention that Mona’s amazing. Mona helped me purchase a chip to put in my phone. Mona helped me purchase groceries. Mona helped me exchange money. Mona helped me cross the street (don’t laugh, it’s a feat here). Mona helped me figure out how to hook up my computer to the net. Yeah…..so I made her supper. I’m going to have to do that on a regular basis.

Ok peeps, I’m so excited to be here. I’m so excited to be doing this right now. I’m excited that I can share it so easily with you through this blog!

Until we meet again,

Sarrah

P.S. A savvy friend of mine sent me this link about a newly discovered pyramid. Perhaps I’ll check it out! (the actual site, not the link, I already checked out the link.)

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/11/081111-new-pyramid-egypt.html