Beginning to Understand

Last week I enjoyed my first ever cruise as my program travelled to Luxor and Aswan, along the Nile. We spent the majority of the trip touring temples and tombs, but there was also ample time left to dine luxuriously and relax on the rooftop of the ship in the warm sun. It was really exactly what I needed in every way. I normally become quickly bored with touristy sights and was worried after the first temple that all of the historical attractions would converge in my diminutive attention span and memory into one big, ancient, crumbling, vestige. On the contrary, I found myself continually awed by the subtle beauty of each sight. As I walked through the tomb of King Tutankhamen and the Temple of Hatshepsut, wisps of knowledge came floating back from my early years of home schooling. I still don’t think I have fully wrapped my mind around the fact that I actually touched the legendary marvels I have been hearing about for my entire life.

                Perhaps more influential than seeing some of the oldest manmade edifices on the face of the earth, was getting to know the Egyptian guys that accompanied us on the cruise. While I have spent a good deal of time with Egyptian women, I had only briefly met the Egyptian guys that are affiliated with the Middlebury program. My interactions with Egyptian men outside of the program had been less than positive, to say the least. I have been living in a small bubble of the dorms and classes, so my main associations with men have been strangers harassing me. A few days ago, for example, three young boys followed me down the street for two blocks calling out all sorts of obscenities. After yelling at them proved futile, I crossed the street only to have a car full of older men swerve at me as one of them screamed “Hey baby.” This past weekend, at the Citadel, a child through a rock at my head from a bridge thirty feet above me (totally unprovoked) and then later that day I was groped by a little boy at the train station. Then of course there is the usual hissing and kissing sounds that follow me everywhere I go.

The guys that joined us for the cruise, however, we’re some of the sweetest people I have met in this country. They were quiet and reserved and treated me with the utmost respect. They spoke with terrifying rapidity and used more slang than actual words, so I was terrified to talk to them at first. But they were patient and non-judgmental and by the end of the trip I was relatively comfortable chatting with them (or at least attempting). Aside from doing wonders for my Arabic and my confidence, meeting respectable Egyptian guys stirred a fresh hope within me that maybe I had been too harsh in my first assessment of Egyptian culture. It’s dangerously easy to generalize. Yes, there are deep-seeded problems in this region in terms of gender equality and I have been observing that firsthand. But my longwinded point is that there are men here who respect women and seeing them, even just three of them, reopened my entire perspective.

                No doubt due to my mind-opening encounter with the guys, I found myself viewing the women here in a new light as well. We lead exceptionally different lives, Egyptian women and I, and I knew coming here that this would be the case. I just didn’t realize the extent to which I would feel that women here live in a way that is at odds with my deepest values and ethics. Many women here truly believe they are inferior to men and deserve to be beaten. To varying degrees, women conceal every indication of their femininity as if the mere idea of being female is indecent or lewd. In my first few months here I felt self-righteously offended by the lack of respect and appreciation for feminine beauty and the absence of pride among women. I have recently started to realize, however, that I was again too harsh and quick to judge.

                For every birthday, engagement, or celebration of any kind, a seemingly spontaneous party forms in the dorms, complete with music, dancing, and food. My roommate’s birthday was last week and as she and her friends danced I was struck by how differently women entertain themselves in our respective countries. As the Egyptians attempted to pull the Americans into the center of the dance circle I joked to one of my American friends about the idea of American 18-22 year olds having a sober, single-sex dance party. It’s a sad truth that most Americans are too self-conscious to dance without the assistance of a few beers. The Egyptian girls put on a guise of reluctance sufficient to remain self-effacing. But let me tell you, there was not the slightest sign of insecurity when any of them stepped into the clapping circle and shook their hips in ways I did not know were possible.

                Call me a raging feminist, but there is absolutely sexism remaining in the US. Its reticent nature almost makes it more threatening in that it’s harder to oppose. Internalization of sexism further complicates the picture. I consider myself a strong woman, yet I find myself becoming self-conscious any time I am physically larger or stronger than a guy. Of course this isn’t true of all women, but I think many American women seek masculine approval in most areas of life—be it in the way they dress or in feeling inadequate without a boyfriend. Similarly to the idea of a sober dance party, I can’t imagine a group of women my age getting dressed up and putting on make-up for a party at which no men will be present. Without men to impress we wouldn’t try. It is truly beautiful the way Egyptian women to value each other’s opinions and enjoy each other’s company. In that respect that are ahead of many American women on the road to internal and external equality.

                The prevailing sexism in the US is deeper and more damaging than a simple inequality between sexes. While the LGBTQ movement is gaining strength in the US, societal gender roles exclude a significant percentage of the population. As if society can’t handle that people are complex and individual beings we force labels and dichotomies. A person must claim male or female, gay or straight, and with the claim comes a set of associations that person is then expected to encompass. The US has taken great strides in terms of human equality and I don’t mean to undermine those by any means. I have simply realized that I shouldn’t be too self-righteous about my values and ethics when to some degree I am still violating them myself.

                As I learn to understand and appreciate Egypt’s culture, I am gaining a new (or maybe revived) love of the Arabic language. An Egyptian idea I have learned to value is the word “m3lesh” (3 is a guttural throat sound called ayin). “M3lesh” essentially means “oh well”. For the first two months of this program I hated the word, because the majority of the time I encountered it, I did not feel that the situation was “m3lesh” at all. After some misfortune had just befallen me, or worse when I was actively trying to fix a problem, the response I would get was “m3lesh.” I came to associate “m3lesh” with insensitivity and indifference. Fitting in with the theme of this blog post, of course, I was wrong. People here use the word “m3lesh” as a way of maintaining cheer in the face of an endless stream of challenges. While I spent my first two months complaining about heat, crowdedness, honking horns, and harassment, Egyptians said “m3lesh” and moved on with their lives. The word represents a sort of patience and acceptance that I, and many Americans, could stand to practice a bit more in our lives.

All languages are more than words. Each holds ideas about the culture to which it belongs. But Arabic, more so than any other language I have experienced, is a one of culture. Because Egypt is a religious country, there are very strict social standards and expectations by which families and individuals are expected to abide. Unlike the US, where everyone strives to be an individual, Egypt values norms and compliance. Despite what individuals might do in their private lives, there is a common consensus on what “Egyptians do.” Similarly to the culture, Arabic holds a propensity toward phrases that follows a certain predestined cadence. Two people can (and often do) have an entire conversation consisting purely of idioms. There are a variety of expressions for every holiday, for birthdays, for when someone gets engaged, and for when someone dies. There are phrases for when you eat at someone’s house, when you get a haircut, and when you sneeze. For each and every one of these phrases there is a set response. Of course, most languages have common phrases and responses for given situations, but the prevalence of phraseology in Arabic is on a different level, which I think directly correlates to Egyptian society.

                On a final note, someone on my program made a beautiful point about Arabic that I thought might be interesting to people who have not studied the language. He said that similarly to Mandarin, Arabic is a language of pictures rather than of words like English. Arabic is composed of a long list of roots, most of which are three letters. Each root holds a general idea, which branches off into several words all connected in some way to the theme. The root د ر س (d r s) has to do with learning. Darasa means he studied. Darrasa means he taught. Maderes means office and madrasa means library. I had always loved the idea of words connecting to each other through root meanings, but I had never thought about roots as a pictures or ideas. Just an interesting tidbit…

Alright, that’s enough for now. Thanks for reading!