3-5-10 [In route to Alexandria]
I am writing a paper on the consequences of an unequal encounter between the Middle East and the West. I am overwhelmed by the oppressive actions and systemic reform that has taken place to create the despairing realities we have today. I am constantly reminded that prosperity comes at the cost of the other. Exploitation takes face for the footsteps of the powerful time and time again, and for that I am always saddened.
I used to think that institutions held the high cards for change. I used to think that if the right players were on the team humanity had a chance at winning.
I was wrong.
The more invested I become in the people and problems of our world the more I realize the importance of relational action on a micro level; person to person. Not system to citizen, or country to community. Such relations routinely resort to violators and victims on a quest for power or even “democracy”. The self interest in every nation has the potential to destroy all that is good. The self interest in every individual has the potential to destroy all that could be good. The selfless interest that God teaches and develops in every individual who seeks it has the potential to transform destruction into construction. A construction site that is laid with love, stacked with sacrifice and built with belief that change will come when we realize it is in ourselves.
“We need Christians to return back to their Christ”
2-28-10
I climbed Mount Sinai.
The journey began at 11:30pm when we left Dahab for Saint Catherine’s. We spent two days in Dahab (on the coast of Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula) staring at Saudi Arabia which is 13 miles away and snorkeling at the Blue Hole in the Red Sea. We drove for 3 hours arriving at the base of Mount Sinai at 2:30am welcomed by temperatures in the low 30's F and an arctic wind that blew strong enough at the top to move me from my place. We climbed the first two hours by the light of the moon amidst severe camel traffic stopping twice for tea/snacks/shelter from the cold in the shacks along the way up the mountain. After 2 hours, we reached the 770 stone steps built by a monk that make up the stairs of penance. We stopped at the top for more tea and blankets before the sunrise at 6:15am. Then we proceeded to sit on the edge of the mountain bundled in blankets, our feet dangling over a distance too vast to describe. We watched a sunrise that brought new meaning to the concept of beauty and God’s artistry for the world while listening to a group of Korean tourists sing worship songs in the background.
On our drive back we stopped in Exodus 15:22 where the 12 wells are that God turned from bitter to sweet in Mara. The sight is directly across from where they think the Red Sea was parted which was a pretty awesome landscape to take in.
I would never have believed someone who told me that at 21 years old I would climb Moses’ footsteps on Mount Sinai, but today I did—I really did.
As I reflect back on my desires for this new year of 2010 I am reminded of my commitment to live simply and love deeply. I realize in the midst of letting God make this desire a reality I am being stripped and detached from the world and lifestyle I know. The last few weeks with sickness, exhaustion, dehydration and overwhelming academic rigor I have found Egypt to be much of a learning experience than an enjoyable one. I have been uncomfortable socially, culturally, and physically but in that struggle I feel my ties to this world breaking into ropes of simplicity. For this I ache, and for that I give praise.
2-26-10
Flooding has come to Cairo!! Along with thunder, lightning and hail. Just as we were about to depart for the all night bus trip to Mount Sinai the storm came and forced a change of plans. Instead of going to Mount Sinai directly we decided to go straight to Dahab after being told the flooding conditions on the roads there are more manageable. Things did not exactly go as planned. We were stopped by police in the middle of the Sinai peninsula saying we couldn’t go any further due to flooding. We were forced to wait, along with about 15 other "tourist" buses and independent travelers (at 3 am mind you). At this point we called and cancelled our reservations for our hostel knowing the bus would take its place for the night. 12 hours later we arrived!
Poverty does not need your pessimism, it needs your passion. How arrogant and selfish is it for me to rest in the overwhelming realities that bore hopeless assurance that the world is too big with too much suffering and unattainable ideologies. When I accept realities of suffering and poverty to be undeniably too vast to tackle I am burying my God graced compassion along with my kingdom focused mentality for truth. I am giving up before I even start. I am discounting all that God equipped me with and all that He can do with my life. Indeed one person cannot change the world, nor do I think they should, but I refuse to place earthly limits on what one person can do fueled by direction from the God of the universe. It is easy to be hopeless. Simply open your eyes, look around, and be informed. Easy is not the answer; if God is optimistic enough to create us surely we can grasp a piece of the same type of hope.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
2-12-10
I spent last night dancing around the bonfire with a Siwan band until the wee hours of the morning; liberated from doubt, discomfort and displacement.
I spent the morning at a young man’s house in Siwa sitting on his floor listening to the ins and outs of Siwan culture. We heard about Siwan traditions, strict gender roles, history and the current effects of increasing tourism on a town/village or 9 families and 25,000 people. Once the guys in our group left the Siwan women came out and did homemade henna for us and gave us the chance to ask questions about what it means to be a woman in their culture and engaged at age 8.
I spent the afternoon at Nustar Café eating couscous, eggplant, hummus, and aish (bread). When we finished there was no bill brought out to us, but rather an honor system so to speak where we were encouraged to leave what we thought the total should be. It definitely made us all release our hesitance to tip a few extra pounds. Later I rode my bike around Siwa with another girl, had tea with a shopkeeper, tried on traditional Siwan wedding attire, and bought some bread baskets handmade by the women in Siwa. We all met back up at 5pm and biked into the desert to watch the sunset and swim/FLOAT in Siwa’s great salt lake fed entirely by natural springs. We biked back and stopped at a fresh water spring where we were able to rinse off the white salt that completely covered our bodies as it dried. Despite how good it actually felt to rinse off I can guarantee that if it hadn’t been pitch black outside and I had seen all that I was actually swimming with I wouldn’t even have considered it! We biked back in utter darkness and faith through sand pits, rocks, and self created paths as the desert stars shined for our only light. Our bus driver, who is half Ethiopian and half Egyptian cooked fuul (beans) and aish for dinner outside by the fire when we got back to the “hotel.” We ate at about 10pm and as soon as we finished the band began.
2-13-10
The Desert Rose Hotel proved to be true to its name despite not having any electricity. Ali drove me and 5 others on our desert safari. Words, pictures, and stories cannot even begin to do justice to the natural beauty we witnessed and authentic Siwan culture we touched on the dunes of the Sahara. After we let some air out of the tires we drove about an hour into the desert and finally stopped on the top of a steep dune to sandboard-aka strapping yourself to a snowboard and riding down the dune. The trouble comes with climbing back up! We did sand sledding as well with two people sitting on the board. After sand had entered every unknown and unwanted place we could imagine we piled back into the jeeps and drove to a freezing fresh water pond. We didn’t last very long there but proceeded to drive around the dune to a natural hot spring complete with orange dying sulfur. We drove further and stopped on the top of some dunes to get out and watch the sunset and take pictures. Our drivers made a small fire and made us Siwan tea (from Libya) and passed out fresh dates stuffed with almonds grown in Siwa. Finally, we drove another 30 minutes in the dark of the desert to our “camp.” Our camp consisted of huge colorfully printed canvas tents, open bonfire pits with floor seating around each one, and a “snack shack” to purchase tea pots and cups to make over the fire. Dinner was served to us in our tent on two long wooden tables (always very low to the ground because everyone sits on the floor) set with a feast of rice, chicken, vegetable soup, tomato and cucumber salad followed by tea. After barely surviving arctic temperatures during the night we drove back to the Desert Rose to have breakfast and scrape whatever sand we could from our bodies. We spent 30 minutes in Siwa before our final departure getting snacks for the road (dates!) and last minute souvenirs. Despite the 24 hours we spent on the bus in travel to and from Siwa it was my favorite part of Egypt thus far.
Lets recap:
Untouched Siwan culture, dates!, biking through the desert, floating in natural salty springs, dancing with a Siwan band around a bonfire into the morning, desert safari, sandboarding/sledding, tea, stars, sunsets, SIWA! Arguably the best weekend of my life- oh and I turned 21 somewhere in there :)
I spent last night dancing around the bonfire with a Siwan band until the wee hours of the morning; liberated from doubt, discomfort and displacement.
I spent the morning at a young man’s house in Siwa sitting on his floor listening to the ins and outs of Siwan culture. We heard about Siwan traditions, strict gender roles, history and the current effects of increasing tourism on a town/village or 9 families and 25,000 people. Once the guys in our group left the Siwan women came out and did homemade henna for us and gave us the chance to ask questions about what it means to be a woman in their culture and engaged at age 8.
I spent the afternoon at Nustar Café eating couscous, eggplant, hummus, and aish (bread). When we finished there was no bill brought out to us, but rather an honor system so to speak where we were encouraged to leave what we thought the total should be. It definitely made us all release our hesitance to tip a few extra pounds. Later I rode my bike around Siwa with another girl, had tea with a shopkeeper, tried on traditional Siwan wedding attire, and bought some bread baskets handmade by the women in Siwa. We all met back up at 5pm and biked into the desert to watch the sunset and swim/FLOAT in Siwa’s great salt lake fed entirely by natural springs. We biked back and stopped at a fresh water spring where we were able to rinse off the white salt that completely covered our bodies as it dried. Despite how good it actually felt to rinse off I can guarantee that if it hadn’t been pitch black outside and I had seen all that I was actually swimming with I wouldn’t even have considered it! We biked back in utter darkness and faith through sand pits, rocks, and self created paths as the desert stars shined for our only light. Our bus driver, who is half Ethiopian and half Egyptian cooked fuul (beans) and aish for dinner outside by the fire when we got back to the “hotel.” We ate at about 10pm and as soon as we finished the band began.
2-13-10
The Desert Rose Hotel proved to be true to its name despite not having any electricity. Ali drove me and 5 others on our desert safari. Words, pictures, and stories cannot even begin to do justice to the natural beauty we witnessed and authentic Siwan culture we touched on the dunes of the Sahara. After we let some air out of the tires we drove about an hour into the desert and finally stopped on the top of a steep dune to sandboard-aka strapping yourself to a snowboard and riding down the dune. The trouble comes with climbing back up! We did sand sledding as well with two people sitting on the board. After sand had entered every unknown and unwanted place we could imagine we piled back into the jeeps and drove to a freezing fresh water pond. We didn’t last very long there but proceeded to drive around the dune to a natural hot spring complete with orange dying sulfur. We drove further and stopped on the top of some dunes to get out and watch the sunset and take pictures. Our drivers made a small fire and made us Siwan tea (from Libya) and passed out fresh dates stuffed with almonds grown in Siwa. Finally, we drove another 30 minutes in the dark of the desert to our “camp.” Our camp consisted of huge colorfully printed canvas tents, open bonfire pits with floor seating around each one, and a “snack shack” to purchase tea pots and cups to make over the fire. Dinner was served to us in our tent on two long wooden tables (always very low to the ground because everyone sits on the floor) set with a feast of rice, chicken, vegetable soup, tomato and cucumber salad followed by tea. After barely surviving arctic temperatures during the night we drove back to the Desert Rose to have breakfast and scrape whatever sand we could from our bodies. We spent 30 minutes in Siwa before our final departure getting snacks for the road (dates!) and last minute souvenirs. Despite the 24 hours we spent on the bus in travel to and from Siwa it was my favorite part of Egypt thus far.
Lets recap:
Untouched Siwan culture, dates!, biking through the desert, floating in natural salty springs, dancing with a Siwan band around a bonfire into the morning, desert safari, sandboarding/sledding, tea, stars, sunsets, SIWA! Arguably the best weekend of my life- oh and I turned 21 somewhere in there :)
Sunday, February 14, 2010
February 6, 2010
Starbucks, Egypt!!
Three other girls and I braved the journey in attempts to find the comfort of coffee. A 30 minute taxi ride across Cairo pulled to an uneasy stop and…we found it! As I sit in one of two Starbucks in Egypt I am thankful for the instant security of shallow familiarity.
February 7, 2010
"To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.- Arundhati Roy
I wonder because I think. I think because I am curious. I am curious because I feel. I feel because I see. I see because I go. I go because I hear. I hear because I listen. I listen because I care. I care because I am.
I am because He says I am. He is because He says He is.
“Then I knew where I should be- not living in comfort, but back in the place where villages and churches were being reunited, where schools and community centers and spirits were being built up, where, amid the terrible noise of violence I could hear the whispers of the Man of Galilee, saying, Behold, I make all things new.” Elias Chacour, Blood Brothers
I have never been persecuted for my faith.
Yesterday I looked into the eyes of a community that is.
The Coptic Christians in Egypt shared their struggles with us through an entire day of interactive interfaith dialogue at a beautiful Christian monastery/retreat center outside of Cairo. I looked into stares of defeat, hearts of hope, spirits of sacrifice, and a body of believers tightly knit together to fight for their rights. Hearing stories of systemic oppression, the pain from recent incidents like Nag Hammadi (where 6 Coptic Christians were killed coming out of Christmas Eve mass), and a technical break down of their doctrinal beliefs left me deep in thought regarding my own faith. We spoke of what freedom of religion looks like in America and what it could or couldn’t look like in Egypt. We spoke of values, sacraments, rituals, faith, and ultimately what it means to be a Christian in this world. The Bishop honored our group with an extensive devotion (2 ½ hours) ending with a time of questions and discussion. In response to the current pain in the Coptic community he highlighted three specific people who represent collective identities that he hopes the Coptic community in Egypt will stand for. Those identities were Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., and Eleanor Roosevelt. Through active pacifism, empowerment, love, and work, justice will come. He said “you must incarnate what you believe. Work as peacemakers, I think that is what we are made for.” The Bishop stressed the importance of making a stand and not being afraid to talk. He said fear is the most dangerous thing to man and asked a man in the crowd “Can you read my mind?” The man responded by saying “If you talk I can read your mind.”
As a member of the international community of Christians I asked the Cops what they needed from us knowing that the answer is not with politically charged plane flights to Egypt with plans to protest. Their response was prayer, and to “be our witnesses all over the world. Tell people we are here, and tell them of our struggle.” This seems to be a common response. A young girl went on to say “If your dad is the President and something bad happens you don’t run and tell the police, you go to your dad. God is our father; we must run to him, not to America or the UN or anyone else. God can make the impossible possible.”
The worst disease in the world is hate, and the cure for hate is love. When you say a pray for those you love, say a prayer for humanity.
Starbucks, Egypt!!
Three other girls and I braved the journey in attempts to find the comfort of coffee. A 30 minute taxi ride across Cairo pulled to an uneasy stop and…we found it! As I sit in one of two Starbucks in Egypt I am thankful for the instant security of shallow familiarity.
February 7, 2010
"To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.- Arundhati Roy
I wonder because I think. I think because I am curious. I am curious because I feel. I feel because I see. I see because I go. I go because I hear. I hear because I listen. I listen because I care. I care because I am.
I am because He says I am. He is because He says He is.
“Then I knew where I should be- not living in comfort, but back in the place where villages and churches were being reunited, where schools and community centers and spirits were being built up, where, amid the terrible noise of violence I could hear the whispers of the Man of Galilee, saying, Behold, I make all things new.” Elias Chacour, Blood Brothers
I have never been persecuted for my faith.
Yesterday I looked into the eyes of a community that is.
The Coptic Christians in Egypt shared their struggles with us through an entire day of interactive interfaith dialogue at a beautiful Christian monastery/retreat center outside of Cairo. I looked into stares of defeat, hearts of hope, spirits of sacrifice, and a body of believers tightly knit together to fight for their rights. Hearing stories of systemic oppression, the pain from recent incidents like Nag Hammadi (where 6 Coptic Christians were killed coming out of Christmas Eve mass), and a technical break down of their doctrinal beliefs left me deep in thought regarding my own faith. We spoke of what freedom of religion looks like in America and what it could or couldn’t look like in Egypt. We spoke of values, sacraments, rituals, faith, and ultimately what it means to be a Christian in this world. The Bishop honored our group with an extensive devotion (2 ½ hours) ending with a time of questions and discussion. In response to the current pain in the Coptic community he highlighted three specific people who represent collective identities that he hopes the Coptic community in Egypt will stand for. Those identities were Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., and Eleanor Roosevelt. Through active pacifism, empowerment, love, and work, justice will come. He said “you must incarnate what you believe. Work as peacemakers, I think that is what we are made for.” The Bishop stressed the importance of making a stand and not being afraid to talk. He said fear is the most dangerous thing to man and asked a man in the crowd “Can you read my mind?” The man responded by saying “If you talk I can read your mind.”
As a member of the international community of Christians I asked the Cops what they needed from us knowing that the answer is not with politically charged plane flights to Egypt with plans to protest. Their response was prayer, and to “be our witnesses all over the world. Tell people we are here, and tell them of our struggle.” This seems to be a common response. A young girl went on to say “If your dad is the President and something bad happens you don’t run and tell the police, you go to your dad. God is our father; we must run to him, not to America or the UN or anyone else. God can make the impossible possible.”
The worst disease in the world is hate, and the cure for hate is love. When you say a pray for those you love, say a prayer for humanity.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
February 2, 2010
I went to prison today.
It was a victory in itself to make it through the final frisk and massive metal doors that shut out my intentions last week. After traveling to the prison via mini bus for 30 minutes, waiting outside in the women’s line for an hour to go through the first security check/aggressive pat down, waiting an hour and a half in the waiting room sipping tea and practicing Arabic with wide eyed children until our prisoners’ names were called, moving to the metal doors and guards that monitor ultimate entrance for 30 more minutes until our names were called once more and then passing through another security check/pat down I was taken to the visitors cage where the prisoners awaited. Some men wear white signifying less severe crimes (commonly immigration) the rest wear blue. Blue means life in prison. Michael wears white. Michael is a 22 year old Sudanese prisoner who will soon meet his one year anniversary on February 20th while still awaiting a court date. He is from Southern Sudan and fled to Libya where he stayed for 6 years because of the war and violence in his village. He is in prison because he beat up a man very badly and “broke almost every bone in his body.” Michael loves hip hop, (especially Kanye West and Jay Z), football (soccer), and recently found God in prison. He is eager to return to Sudan after he is released to reunite with his older brother and family he hasn’t been in contact with for years. In talking with the Sudanese prisoners I couldn’t help but be reminded of my friends at Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles that are also ex-convicts and realize how the same issues transcend countries, culture and context. Some prisoners just need a visit to be reminded that there is hope. Today I was empowered by men who are slaves to a system they didn’t create but came to know through poor judgment, false information, and sacrificial opportunities.
There is a Sudanese man who has been sentenced to life in prison and has taken the initiative to start weekly bible studies, accountability, prayer, food sharing, and hope for the younger guys who come in feeling defeated. He gave me the privilege of hearing his story from drug dealing in Sudan to daily gratitude in prison and made me promise to “tell the outside world that their brothers are across the world in prison loving Christ just as they do.” He thanked me countless times for visiting and said he knew we loved Christ because Christ’s love is what told us to come visit them. Lastly he said “I don’t like prison, but I have joy. God loved me enough to take me away from drug dealing and into prison so I could be close to Him, for that I am thankful.”
February 3, 2010
U.S. Foreign Policy
Scott Hibbard spoke to us this afternoon about U.S. foreign policy paying specific attention to the Middle East. He is currently in Egypt teaching International Relations and Foreign Policy at American University Cairo while on a short term Fulbright scholarship. He lives in Chicago and teaches at DePaul University after receiving his PHD from John Hopkins in Washington, DC, working at the U.S. Institute of Peace in DC and completing the religion ethics human rights program there. For nearly 2 hours Scott spoke to us about America’s real interest in the Middle East and shared inside information about the current state of the region. He spoke on US ideals, actions and motives while formulating an open ended discussion for questions about the future concerning countries like Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, and of course Israel. Despite common talk of the relations between the US and Middle East, Scott highlighted the role of religion in politics especially dealing with Iraq and the tensions between the Sunnis, Shiites and Kurds who occupy the country with individual aspirations for ultimate control. I clung to Scott’s every word while struggling to find a balance between ethics and politics concerning the east and the west. Although I am absolutely fascinated and intrigued by both past and present political actions I feel myself holding tightly to the micro capabilities performed through relationship, community, and solidarity. I am quick to sign myself up for Capitol Hill (as I spoke with Scott about after) yet not equally as quick to sign away my God guided ethics. We shall see how it all plays out. I can guarantee that Capitol Hill will see my face :)
Interesting notes:
EVERYTHING runs on oil.
“We want Democracy, but are afraid of what it will bring”
Theoretically we are all about democracy, but when push comes to shove what are the ultimate interests?
The nature of America’s current Obama administration: “to promote incremental reform through liberalization rather than democratization.”
“There is no compromise without sacrificing the essence of who you are”
“Currently there is no exit strategy” (Iraq and Afghanistan)
Everything is related to everything else (!!)
One country’s freedom is at the expense of the others (Israeli/Palestinian conflict)
How can we use religion as a common ground in politics instead of a breeding ground for division?
2/3 of the world’s oil is from 5 countries: Iran, Iraq, UAE, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia
China’s negative presence in Africa, (specifically Sudan). Oil money feeds the dirty hands in the Darfur conflict.
I went to prison today.
It was a victory in itself to make it through the final frisk and massive metal doors that shut out my intentions last week. After traveling to the prison via mini bus for 30 minutes, waiting outside in the women’s line for an hour to go through the first security check/aggressive pat down, waiting an hour and a half in the waiting room sipping tea and practicing Arabic with wide eyed children until our prisoners’ names were called, moving to the metal doors and guards that monitor ultimate entrance for 30 more minutes until our names were called once more and then passing through another security check/pat down I was taken to the visitors cage where the prisoners awaited. Some men wear white signifying less severe crimes (commonly immigration) the rest wear blue. Blue means life in prison. Michael wears white. Michael is a 22 year old Sudanese prisoner who will soon meet his one year anniversary on February 20th while still awaiting a court date. He is from Southern Sudan and fled to Libya where he stayed for 6 years because of the war and violence in his village. He is in prison because he beat up a man very badly and “broke almost every bone in his body.” Michael loves hip hop, (especially Kanye West and Jay Z), football (soccer), and recently found God in prison. He is eager to return to Sudan after he is released to reunite with his older brother and family he hasn’t been in contact with for years. In talking with the Sudanese prisoners I couldn’t help but be reminded of my friends at Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles that are also ex-convicts and realize how the same issues transcend countries, culture and context. Some prisoners just need a visit to be reminded that there is hope. Today I was empowered by men who are slaves to a system they didn’t create but came to know through poor judgment, false information, and sacrificial opportunities.
There is a Sudanese man who has been sentenced to life in prison and has taken the initiative to start weekly bible studies, accountability, prayer, food sharing, and hope for the younger guys who come in feeling defeated. He gave me the privilege of hearing his story from drug dealing in Sudan to daily gratitude in prison and made me promise to “tell the outside world that their brothers are across the world in prison loving Christ just as they do.” He thanked me countless times for visiting and said he knew we loved Christ because Christ’s love is what told us to come visit them. Lastly he said “I don’t like prison, but I have joy. God loved me enough to take me away from drug dealing and into prison so I could be close to Him, for that I am thankful.”
February 3, 2010
U.S. Foreign Policy
Scott Hibbard spoke to us this afternoon about U.S. foreign policy paying specific attention to the Middle East. He is currently in Egypt teaching International Relations and Foreign Policy at American University Cairo while on a short term Fulbright scholarship. He lives in Chicago and teaches at DePaul University after receiving his PHD from John Hopkins in Washington, DC, working at the U.S. Institute of Peace in DC and completing the religion ethics human rights program there. For nearly 2 hours Scott spoke to us about America’s real interest in the Middle East and shared inside information about the current state of the region. He spoke on US ideals, actions and motives while formulating an open ended discussion for questions about the future concerning countries like Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, and of course Israel. Despite common talk of the relations between the US and Middle East, Scott highlighted the role of religion in politics especially dealing with Iraq and the tensions between the Sunnis, Shiites and Kurds who occupy the country with individual aspirations for ultimate control. I clung to Scott’s every word while struggling to find a balance between ethics and politics concerning the east and the west. Although I am absolutely fascinated and intrigued by both past and present political actions I feel myself holding tightly to the micro capabilities performed through relationship, community, and solidarity. I am quick to sign myself up for Capitol Hill (as I spoke with Scott about after) yet not equally as quick to sign away my God guided ethics. We shall see how it all plays out. I can guarantee that Capitol Hill will see my face :)
Interesting notes:
EVERYTHING runs on oil.
“We want Democracy, but are afraid of what it will bring”
Theoretically we are all about democracy, but when push comes to shove what are the ultimate interests?
The nature of America’s current Obama administration: “to promote incremental reform through liberalization rather than democratization.”
“There is no compromise without sacrificing the essence of who you are”
“Currently there is no exit strategy” (Iraq and Afghanistan)
Everything is related to everything else (!!)
One country’s freedom is at the expense of the others (Israeli/Palestinian conflict)
How can we use religion as a common ground in politics instead of a breeding ground for division?
2/3 of the world’s oil is from 5 countries: Iran, Iraq, UAE, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia
China’s negative presence in Africa, (specifically Sudan). Oil money feeds the dirty hands in the Darfur conflict.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Welcome to Egypt!
January 12, 2010 6:16am San Francisco airport
So I guess I am really going to Egypt. It is not a figment of my imagination, an overly fed fantasy of my mind, or a topic in conversation. It is becoming my reality, stitch by stitch, step by step, prayer by prayer Egypt is my own, and will be.
Anxiety is the present pulse to my heart. Fear is chasing my heels but not quick enough to take hold. Despite the deep emotion that decorates my ever thought and breath I am ready. If you ask me, I am ready. Ready for change, ready for challenge, ready for knowledge, ready to experience, but most of all ready to walk with Jesus in a land He knows all too well.
I wish I was this reliant on Jesus in the comfort of my day to day life in the westernized, Christian, safe bubble I know.
Why does this simple action of obedience and education feel like a sacrifice to me? I know nothing of sacrifice compared to the ones before me and the ones around this world living in loneliness, fear, and purposeless living. The very least I can do is listen when God tells me to go. The very least I can do is love the ones close to me, and love the ones who are not just the same.
This is my temporary home; it’s not where I belong. I’m not afraid because I know this is my temporary home, and just a stop to where I am going. The least I can do is stop where and when God tells me.
Let the lessons in love begin, and my journey of faith be shattered to a new depth of understanding.
January 21, 2010 Agouza, Cairo
I am living in a city where pollution clouds the air, women ride a separate train car, and Islam is the truth. As a white American female who claims to follow Jesus I am the obvious minority. I belong to the minority in Egypt and the greater Middle East who suffer persecution, ridicule, and almost utter systemic neglect for their version of Christian faith. The call to prayer is background music (5 times a day) to my routine here in Cairo and I have already found myself not even noticing it. However, like now, as I sit on the balcony of my 6th floor apartment in the “upper middle class” neighborhood of Agouza I am overwhelmed and stirred to emotion when feeling the unity of an entire city, which represents an entire country, and region of my world that worships as one body unashamedly. After completing a full week in Cairo, observing, tasting, and touching the city I am beginning to catch my breath. It has been a whirlwind of feeling physically, culturally, historically and religiously illiterate. It has been eye opening, frustrating, and inspiring to experience something so different from anything I have ever known for myself.
As a woman I am learning to be submissive and take a back seat to what goes on here. I am beginning to see why the women dress and act so modestly and spend most of their time in their home. The majority of interaction I have as a white American woman with men involves cat calls, creative noises and dirty or sometimes absurdly flattering comments in Arabic. ALL THE TIME. Regardless of what you think you look like or represent they are seeing the girls on my program and me as desperate housewives that have luckily moved to their neighborhood and country. Harassing girls is a sport and fun way for the many young unemployed Egyptian guys to pass the time. I have had the chance to spend an evening with a 31 year old woman from Yemen, who I met at the mosque service I attended last Friday. Her name is Jihan Jihad, and she is living in Cairo to get her Masters degree in Business Administration. I sat next to her on the floor of the separate building where the women go to worship, (the men worship openly outside on the side of the road in an area 4 times the size). She curiously asked where I was from, why I was there and then proceeded to give me her phone number if I wanted to get together and talk or have tea. It turns out that Jihan’s father is a Sheikh in Yemen, (similar to a Senator) and her family consists of a doctor, lawyer, and many respectable positions in the oil industry including herself as a secretary. She is very intelligent and knows more about Christianity than I do (which has been proven typical in my time here). As a Muslim she respects religion as the most important thing in life and sees it as a difference between people but not a division. Her views on politics, religion and cultural behavior are more liberal than I had expected which she attributes to her high level of education. We walked across a bridge over the Nile discussing politics, relationships and what she sees as acceptable behavior. Later we sat in a garden downtown and spoke of our families back home and our dreams for the future.
Garbage City.
The saying “one man’s trash is another ones treasure” is the backbone for an entire Egyptian community. Coptic Christians occupy Garbage City, which was created when the government forced all of the people (Christians) who collect and sort trash for a living to move to a designated area. The Christians are the only ones who collect trash because Muslims are forbidden to eat or raise pigs which eat the unusable trash. Garbage city can visually be described as a slum full of disease, filth, malnutrition, and a place for the poor, but it is also a community of hard working believers and many many beautiful children. The biggest Coptic Christian church is in Garbage City which holds 8,000 people and is made out of a cave. There is a Mother Teresa orphanage called Sisters of Charity in the middle of Garbage City where we spent two days helping the overworked staff care for the 30 toddlers, 20 babies, and 20 elderly women who live there. The Sisters have taken a vow of poverty to live in solidarity with the people they serve. Meaning they refuse to use a washing machine or dryer for laundry, so they do all of the laundry and cooking by hand. I took care of babies covered with sickness and sores, and loved every minute of my ministry of touch except having to leave. We had the opportunity to visit a nonprofit organization in Garbage city that teaches and employs women in the community to make purses, rugs, placemats and handmade paper products to sell and make a living. It turns out that one of the line of bags have been recently sold to major designer Marc Jacobs to be sold in stores in the United States! I bought one of them for 6 dollars, which will soon be over 100 dollars after profit mark up.
My first taxi driver asked me where I was from and when we responded with “Amriika” his response was “America, kill” as he made a cutting motion across his throat. As you can imagine my initial reaction was a state of panic and fear, thinking I was about to be murdered by my driver for being an American. I continued to look at him as he smiled and repeated the phrase and motion again. I responded with “Amriika salaam” (America peace) but he shook his head and said “America no salaam. Bush kill, Obama peace.” Our conversation continued as my friends and I asked him more about his opinions of America and love for Obama. We left the taxi with a smiling new friend, and a glimpse of an extremely valid perspective.
I am overwhelmed with the depth, intelligence, and dedication the individuals I am on this program with contain. Already many have claimed special places in my heart for who they are, who they inspire me to be and the way we dream for the future and analyze our world’s realities every day. These are the leaders of our world, future presidents, pastors, peacekeepers, human rights lawyers, international business “missionaries,” professors, orphanage owners, Peace Corps volunteers, doctors, photographers and politicians. I am blessed to be surrounded by devotion, dedication, passion and honesty.
January 22, 2010
We had a “Women’s Night” with 3 Muslim women all of different ages and social classes as our panel. I was inspired by their dedication to modesty, their faith, and their roles in society. I could go on and on about what we discussed but the one thing that really stuck with me was when one of the girls who is Nubian, was asked to speak on her identity ranking the most important or influential to the least out of Muslim, Arab, Nubian, Egyptian. She responded with “Muslim because that is how God chose to be close to me. Then Nubian because that is my heart, and my heart feels for my Nubian people. Then Egyptian because that is my mind—then Arab.” Definitely something to think about.
Please pray for my academic discipline to do well in my studies. The coursework is more difficult than anything I have ever been exposed to, especially the Arabic language study. I start my internship at a men’s prison in Zamalek next Tuesday to spend one on one time with mostly Nigerian men who have been formally or informally convicted on some sort of drug charges for a very extensive sentence. Pray that I will hear their stories with a soft heart and be openly exposed to a foreign justice system I know little about. Continue to pray for safety, health and strong relationships among the students I am here with who are constantly having their beliefs and worldview shattered. Pray that bitterness would not take root, but instead hope and truth would be sought with love and respect.
I appreciate you all.
Salaam.
So I guess I am really going to Egypt. It is not a figment of my imagination, an overly fed fantasy of my mind, or a topic in conversation. It is becoming my reality, stitch by stitch, step by step, prayer by prayer Egypt is my own, and will be.
Anxiety is the present pulse to my heart. Fear is chasing my heels but not quick enough to take hold. Despite the deep emotion that decorates my ever thought and breath I am ready. If you ask me, I am ready. Ready for change, ready for challenge, ready for knowledge, ready to experience, but most of all ready to walk with Jesus in a land He knows all too well.
I wish I was this reliant on Jesus in the comfort of my day to day life in the westernized, Christian, safe bubble I know.
Why does this simple action of obedience and education feel like a sacrifice to me? I know nothing of sacrifice compared to the ones before me and the ones around this world living in loneliness, fear, and purposeless living. The very least I can do is listen when God tells me to go. The very least I can do is love the ones close to me, and love the ones who are not just the same.
This is my temporary home; it’s not where I belong. I’m not afraid because I know this is my temporary home, and just a stop to where I am going. The least I can do is stop where and when God tells me.
Let the lessons in love begin, and my journey of faith be shattered to a new depth of understanding.
January 21, 2010 Agouza, Cairo
I am living in a city where pollution clouds the air, women ride a separate train car, and Islam is the truth. As a white American female who claims to follow Jesus I am the obvious minority. I belong to the minority in Egypt and the greater Middle East who suffer persecution, ridicule, and almost utter systemic neglect for their version of Christian faith. The call to prayer is background music (5 times a day) to my routine here in Cairo and I have already found myself not even noticing it. However, like now, as I sit on the balcony of my 6th floor apartment in the “upper middle class” neighborhood of Agouza I am overwhelmed and stirred to emotion when feeling the unity of an entire city, which represents an entire country, and region of my world that worships as one body unashamedly. After completing a full week in Cairo, observing, tasting, and touching the city I am beginning to catch my breath. It has been a whirlwind of feeling physically, culturally, historically and religiously illiterate. It has been eye opening, frustrating, and inspiring to experience something so different from anything I have ever known for myself.
As a woman I am learning to be submissive and take a back seat to what goes on here. I am beginning to see why the women dress and act so modestly and spend most of their time in their home. The majority of interaction I have as a white American woman with men involves cat calls, creative noises and dirty or sometimes absurdly flattering comments in Arabic. ALL THE TIME. Regardless of what you think you look like or represent they are seeing the girls on my program and me as desperate housewives that have luckily moved to their neighborhood and country. Harassing girls is a sport and fun way for the many young unemployed Egyptian guys to pass the time. I have had the chance to spend an evening with a 31 year old woman from Yemen, who I met at the mosque service I attended last Friday. Her name is Jihan Jihad, and she is living in Cairo to get her Masters degree in Business Administration. I sat next to her on the floor of the separate building where the women go to worship, (the men worship openly outside on the side of the road in an area 4 times the size). She curiously asked where I was from, why I was there and then proceeded to give me her phone number if I wanted to get together and talk or have tea. It turns out that Jihan’s father is a Sheikh in Yemen, (similar to a Senator) and her family consists of a doctor, lawyer, and many respectable positions in the oil industry including herself as a secretary. She is very intelligent and knows more about Christianity than I do (which has been proven typical in my time here). As a Muslim she respects religion as the most important thing in life and sees it as a difference between people but not a division. Her views on politics, religion and cultural behavior are more liberal than I had expected which she attributes to her high level of education. We walked across a bridge over the Nile discussing politics, relationships and what she sees as acceptable behavior. Later we sat in a garden downtown and spoke of our families back home and our dreams for the future.
Garbage City.
The saying “one man’s trash is another ones treasure” is the backbone for an entire Egyptian community. Coptic Christians occupy Garbage City, which was created when the government forced all of the people (Christians) who collect and sort trash for a living to move to a designated area. The Christians are the only ones who collect trash because Muslims are forbidden to eat or raise pigs which eat the unusable trash. Garbage city can visually be described as a slum full of disease, filth, malnutrition, and a place for the poor, but it is also a community of hard working believers and many many beautiful children. The biggest Coptic Christian church is in Garbage City which holds 8,000 people and is made out of a cave. There is a Mother Teresa orphanage called Sisters of Charity in the middle of Garbage City where we spent two days helping the overworked staff care for the 30 toddlers, 20 babies, and 20 elderly women who live there. The Sisters have taken a vow of poverty to live in solidarity with the people they serve. Meaning they refuse to use a washing machine or dryer for laundry, so they do all of the laundry and cooking by hand. I took care of babies covered with sickness and sores, and loved every minute of my ministry of touch except having to leave. We had the opportunity to visit a nonprofit organization in Garbage city that teaches and employs women in the community to make purses, rugs, placemats and handmade paper products to sell and make a living. It turns out that one of the line of bags have been recently sold to major designer Marc Jacobs to be sold in stores in the United States! I bought one of them for 6 dollars, which will soon be over 100 dollars after profit mark up.
My first taxi driver asked me where I was from and when we responded with “Amriika” his response was “America, kill” as he made a cutting motion across his throat. As you can imagine my initial reaction was a state of panic and fear, thinking I was about to be murdered by my driver for being an American. I continued to look at him as he smiled and repeated the phrase and motion again. I responded with “Amriika salaam” (America peace) but he shook his head and said “America no salaam. Bush kill, Obama peace.” Our conversation continued as my friends and I asked him more about his opinions of America and love for Obama. We left the taxi with a smiling new friend, and a glimpse of an extremely valid perspective.
I am overwhelmed with the depth, intelligence, and dedication the individuals I am on this program with contain. Already many have claimed special places in my heart for who they are, who they inspire me to be and the way we dream for the future and analyze our world’s realities every day. These are the leaders of our world, future presidents, pastors, peacekeepers, human rights lawyers, international business “missionaries,” professors, orphanage owners, Peace Corps volunteers, doctors, photographers and politicians. I am blessed to be surrounded by devotion, dedication, passion and honesty.
January 22, 2010
We had a “Women’s Night” with 3 Muslim women all of different ages and social classes as our panel. I was inspired by their dedication to modesty, their faith, and their roles in society. I could go on and on about what we discussed but the one thing that really stuck with me was when one of the girls who is Nubian, was asked to speak on her identity ranking the most important or influential to the least out of Muslim, Arab, Nubian, Egyptian. She responded with “Muslim because that is how God chose to be close to me. Then Nubian because that is my heart, and my heart feels for my Nubian people. Then Egyptian because that is my mind—then Arab.” Definitely something to think about.
Please pray for my academic discipline to do well in my studies. The coursework is more difficult than anything I have ever been exposed to, especially the Arabic language study. I start my internship at a men’s prison in Zamalek next Tuesday to spend one on one time with mostly Nigerian men who have been formally or informally convicted on some sort of drug charges for a very extensive sentence. Pray that I will hear their stories with a soft heart and be openly exposed to a foreign justice system I know little about. Continue to pray for safety, health and strong relationships among the students I am here with who are constantly having their beliefs and worldview shattered. Pray that bitterness would not take root, but instead hope and truth would be sought with love and respect.
I appreciate you all.
Salaam.
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