So what is this place? No really. I am really struggling to wrap my head around it. Not only does it remain undefinable, but so does my relationship to it. I speak arabic, but not the same arabic as everyone else. I enjoy walking through dirty streets more than clean ones, yet I sigh with relief when I return to my appartment. I spend my day mostly writing in english, reading in arabic, and speaking in spanish. On my street you can drink strong tea out of dirty glass or a cappacino from an italian mug. I struggle every moment to understand this landscape and most of all, to define my place within it. This city is truly like no other.
Last evening I wandered the city for several hours. I walked 1 hour in toward a general destination (the AUC campus), and after taking the wrong bridge and becoming seriously disoriented, it required another 2 1/2 hours to walk back. I went to a party last night with a bunch of Spanish journalists, and not wanting to stick around any longer with my roommate, I left at 3 am to walk back home... and once again used up another hour for a distance that should require 15 minutes. Unfortunately, as I didn't do my 'homework' before coming to Cairo as I always have within previous ventures, I haven't been able to 'hit the ground running,' with the usual propensity. Of course I have plenty of time to learn about this place, but up until today, it has been purely an initiation by fire. Today was in fact the first time I gave really looked at a map, learned where my apartment is actually located, and began to internalize the geography of this crazy urban labyrinth.
On a more exciting note, I met today with an American documentary film maker who had worked with an agency known as FilmAid within another refugee camp called Kakuma. Apparently he had found out about my work within Dadaab through this very blog, and has often intended to contact me. It turns out that we will both be studying together at AUC within the Forced Migration and Refugee Studies department. We met for lunch at a local 'hole in the wall' place, and as his arabic is only a little better than mine, we were served dishes of pickles, a small salad, lentils, tehini, bread, and a mystery meat that we suspected to be tripe. I will admit, with great shame, that I did not eat the tripe.
Some interesting notes about the meal however. Apparently the custom is that one glass is placed upon the table for water, so that all people share from the same glass. Also, food is placed on multiple dishes and when dining you continually pick and share from these dishes, there is no plate of your own. Forks are available. Tea and coffee are not served at the place where food is eaten, requiring the individual to walk somewhere else. Cafes also seem to be more popular for smoking Sheesha pipes than drinking tea/coffee.
So in a general sense, all is well. I'm slowly getting to know about this crazy place, my roommates are awesome, I'm beginning to make new friends, and my spanish is improving mas rapido. On the negative side my arabic seems to get worse rather than better, I'm not sure what to do about my apartment, and I'm still struggling to do some really basic things like a)find and eat food b) interact with Egyptians and c) purchase simple goods that I did not bring with me (such as a towel). I'm not sure what to do about my apartment because while it is in a good location, is fairly clean, is quiet, and has good company it is also a rather funky place and I can actually afford to live somewhere nicer. At the party last night, I went to an apartment down the street with a great rooftop balcony, wide spacious rooms, and great ventilation which would all be attainable on my budget. Mine, in contrast, is dark and closed up with no circulation (and right next to the highway), very hot, and sparsely furnished with a hodgepodge of thrift store furniture. I'm thinking the best idea is to stick around here for a few months, and then perhaps relocate in December/January. Afterall, it is at least a good way to save some cash and stabilize my existing friendships.
The strange thing is that while I want to live in a nicer place, I am constantly battling an inside/outside cultural dynamic. Today, my American friend, David and I went walking through a part of the city which could be considered "real Cairo," where the buildings are crumbling, the people live in absolute poverty, and along the way tradesman work their craft sharpening knives or repairing shoes. The women are covered head to toe, and the children run amok within the streets. It was the greatest 30 minutes I have experienced since arriving here. It reminded me of all the reasons I have to be here, and it showed me just how good I already have it at my apartment and within my neighborhood. Yet an interesting phenomena always occurs within these situations. When walking the streets of my little neighborhood, Zamalek, the outside chaos of Cairo becomes intimidating, while an immersion into the chaos presents the refinement of Zamalek as contrived and imprisoning. So how do I reconcile these differences? At this time it is beyond me; however I do suspect that with time, patience, and the fortitude to engage fear whenever it may arise, I will better navigate these compounding transgressions of the cultural divide within the near future.
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