Field Trip

Jessica took her students on a field trip around Cairo looking for evidence 0of pollution. Needless to say, it wasn't hard to find:

This is a photo of the Pyramids. They're across the valley, about 8 miles away. On a clear day, they're closs enough to see the outlines of the slabs of rock. That happens about ten times a year, at best. They're visible from across the valley (meaning you can at least see their outline through the smog) about 10% of the time.

Horse in the road; bitch in the car.

I ride a bus to and from work every day. In retrospect, I’m surprised that tales from the back of the bus haven’t made their way to my blog sooner. Its my university’s version of the water cooler, shade tree mechanic, happy hour pub all rolled into one (minus any possible form of refreshment; no food or drinks allowed). On the bus, I rub elbows with folks from all over the Uni, all three schools, multiple departments and some of the senior administrators. I learn things on the bus, both about life in Cairo (best restaurants, shops, social events), AUC news (new campus building stage, controversies, firings and hirings, the dirt on everyone). Its our institutional memory, social networking, oral tradition and urban legend reservoir all wrapped into one.

In short, for a mere three Egyptian pounds($.50) per trip, its cheap, as they say, at half the price.

Last Wednesday, may go down in the record book as my most memorable bus ride ever. Not only was it great for mere entertainment value, but it crystallized in my mind all of the things about Egypt, both rotten and remarkable. And to think, it only cost me fifty cents.

Ola, who works in some weird bureaucratic office called iPART (I think they’re the long term planners of the university), lives on a narrow street near the corniche in Maadi. Sometimes, she’s feeling rugged and the bus drops her off on the corner. Other days, she insists on being taken to her doorstep. She’s the first person dropped off in the afternoon, and those of us in the back of the bus are usually way too preoccupied with our own cleverness to notice what’s going on outside the bus.

Well, last Thursday, what was going on was that a cart, loaded with gravel and pulled by a handsome horse (chestnut brown, extremely healthy), was coming down this narrow, one-lane street towards us. We were too far down the block to back up so, as is quite typical in Cairo, our driver blazed on ahead, signaling to the cart that he had to pull off to the side. The cart obliged, he found an empty parking space on our right and pulled into it, the blinkered horse casually munching on a bucket of grass while our bus pulled past him. Or at least attempted to pull past him. As we had been patiently waiting for the horse to maneuver into its spot, a woman in a beat up, but relatively late model Peugeot 407 zoomed up and tried to sneak into the same spot as the horse. Apparently, she had been talking on her mobile, and hadn’t noticed the impasse looming. Unfortunately, the cart took up most of the space. Her car could only get about halfway in. Our bus was therefore unable to move forward, and the cart was effectively blocked in.

Now, up till this point, nothing that out of the ordinary had occurred. This was typical Cairo driving behavior and certainly hadn’t garnered much attention from our contingent in the back of the bus. We had dimly been aware of the horse, had heard our driver shouting a little at the car in front, but what got our attention was when our driver shut his engine off completely.

Apparently, after the lady refused to back up, even after he told her that she was the one responsible, his inestimable opinion was that making a defiant gesture of absolute firmness would best resolve the situation.

The lady, herself a deft practitioner in the dark art of back alley driver negotiations, and at an apparent tactical advantage over the bus driver as being the only one really capable of resolving the situation, instead chose to engage the emergency brake, exit the car through passenger side (the bus was blocking the driver’s door), set the car alarm, and calmly, ignoring the speechless but hostile stares of our now thoroughly engage bus denizens, picked her way through the debris on the side of the street and disappeared into a building. The horse, meanwhile, continued to enjoy his snack and break, but was the only creature on the street not entirely aghast at this situation.

Fifteen minutes later, let me repeat myself, fifteen minutes later, during which time we all sat silently, trying to figure out what to do, the neighborhood roused a shopkeeper from his stalled and persuaded him to moved his 1979 orange Mercedes 200E from the right hand side of the street, thus allowing our bus to restart its engine, swerve to the right of the Peugeot (where the bus driver found the restraint not to side swipe it as we passed remains a mystery to me) and we continued home. I didn’t get to see what happened to the horse, but I presume he, too, continued his appointed rounds.

As I mentioned before, this story contains so many elements of my life in Cairo that it practically beggars my ability to expound upon them all. And, since, I’ve almost used up my self-imposed 1000 word post limit, I’ll leave that up to my faithful readership to fill in. Look forward to more episodes from the back of the bus…

Music in My Heart

My friend Josh has recently established a web presence. He’s in his first year out of college and has gone out west to Oregon, to hang with his dad and live a little. By all available evidence, he seems to be doing a bang up job of it. Of the Putney Crew, (of which my dad is an honorary member, there are four children. I dropped out of school, moved out west, joined the army and ended up in Egypt. Casey finished school, had a serious accident in the jungles of central America, and is now an organic farmer in the Happy Valley. Josh is currently in his adventurous stage, who knows where he’ll end up. Cali (Caledonia) will be leaving home soon, I think.

I may have gotten the furthest thus far, at least geographically, but I can’t help but feel a little wistful when I think of how I’m maybe not the one on the adventure anymore. I just finished watching Josh perform a closes his eyes when he gets to the good parts. I’ve sung in public only once. It was at my wedding and I sang “You’re my Home” by Billy Joel with Annie accompanying me on Guitar. Even though I had practiced a dozen times before the wedding, and they had all sounded very nice, I sang the entire song off key. Of course I knew I was off, as I was singing (even the trees were wincing) but there was nothing I could do about it but push through it.

Everyone said that it was still a super romantic thing to do. I mean, imagine humiliating yourself in front of 120 of your closest friends, is there any better way of expressing your love? My problem, though, is that there was something beautiful in my heart, which I needed to come out. I hear that song, and I get a feeling in my chest. It’s a tightness, a buzzing, a sense of rightness. When Josh sang his song, I had that feeling. His voice has just that James Taylor edge to it, sharp, pure, and sweet; the chords he plays just flow into each other, like a beautiful day.

I live on the most beautiful street in Cairo. The trees are Sycamore Figs; they form a canopy over the streets that the light tries to break through, but all we get is a bright green light, filling the street. When I step outside, a music like Josh’s voice fills my heart. When I come home at night, with the same canopy, but moonlight now, and I see huge fruit bats flitting around, I hear the muezzin calling the evening prayer and the thick sweet air is slightly stirred by the northeast wind, there is another song I feel in my heart, but the feeling is the same.

My mother-in-law, Terry, is an artist, she has an excellent eye for visually pleasing things. They came to visit us in Lebanon and I showed her the view from our balcony. It was an empty lot surrounded by dirty concrete buildings. Laundry fluttered from the balconies and there were several yellow construction machines; backhoes, bulldozers and the like. There were also a few scraggly trees and a small weedy garden. On the top of the neighboring building was a pigeon roost. In the corner was a shipping container which housed a neighborhood generator with a million wires leading to it. I used to sit out on my balcony, sipping ahwa, looking with contentment on my open lot. Feeling as though all were right with the world. I showed Terry my view and asked her from an artistic point of view if the scene had any merit. Without any hesitation, she said “no.”

One last thing: Jessica bought me a guitar last year. I tried learning some chords, but they all sound the same to me. A, C, D, E; repeating them in different patterns didn’t do me any good. After a few weeks of steady practice, my fingers hurt a lot, and I still couldn’t play a song I could recognize. So I gave up. I still take it out of the case now and again to pluck strings in random order, or make up chords that may or may not be harmonious. Mk and Kennedy are both fairly clear on the point that harmony is NOT the defining characteristic of my guitar playing. But occasionally I hit a sweet combination of notes, and I get that tightness in my chest. It makes the rest of the cacophony seem worthwhile, at least to me.

I’m not sure where I’m heading with all these images. I have a sense of loss though, of real sadness. There is music in my heart, beauty and harmony which I have never been able to express. It may be enough, sometimes, that I can feel it, but, today, singing in the shower is not enough.

Manifest Destiny

Saturday night I had a very vivid dream:

I was on a trip to the desert as a teacher on a bus. The students were a mix of AUCians and BSCers and we had faculty from both. We stopped in a village in the middle of nowhere and all the people on the bus went off to do their thing.

I found myself on the doorstep of what looked like an antique shop, cluttered with bric-a-brac. I really wanted to go in, but was afraid; it was clearly not open for business, and entering would have been trespassing. Two professors joined me on the doorstep, one, named Nate, was equally hesitant and interested. The other, Steve*, said he knew his way around in there. He said he could show us around.

We went in, but the room was too cluttered to walk freely. We had to belly crawl. Although Steve led us in, once inside, I was in the lead; I’m not sure why. The stuff in this room was amazing, I especially noticed the rugs, Dragon style Persian carpets of astounding beauty. Pieces from the Caucasian mountains, Persian pieces and also Bedouin pieces. The other furniture seemed mostly of the typical middle class Egyptian style, heavy gilt and crystal, not really my taste. I also remember some alabaster pieces and some beautiful classical portraits.

After we had all gotten our fill of looking, I led us back to the front door. Although we had left it open, it was shut and barred! I had to stand up to lift the bar, and as I stepped out of the room, there was an Arab sheik, clearly the owner of this building standing on the front porch, casually drinking his tea and holding court with the locals.

I had never felt like more of a trespasser in my life. I felt utter shame, that I would have breached what, in retrospect, was clearly a private space, not meant to share with the likes of us.

The owner, turned toward us as we exited. He was a tall thin man, with bright sharp eyes, leathery, mahogany colored skin and a huge mustache. He was wearing a brown galabeya and a blood red turban. As we shuffled out into the light, covered in dust and cobwebs, he beamed a huge smile and welcomed us with a twinkle in his eye.

He never looked at Steve, but he took Nate by the shoulders and said that his people needed Nate to stay and help them. Nate, shrinking at the prospect, stepped back and refused to help. At which point Sheriff (I knew his name without an introduction) turned to me and asked me if I would help.

As I said that I would stay (I decided to build a school in his village), Sheriff reached out to shake my hand. He hand a huge hand, but the handshake was still strange somehow, it didn’t feel right. When I looked down to see why, I realized that his hand was missing the index finger and pinkie. Each finger was twisted and charred at the second knuckle. But he shook my hand with no self consciousness at all. And as he continued, I realized that it was a warm, welcome handshake, and I felt relief.


All this is introduction to the news that, on Sunday morning, I was invited by Steve to give a teacher training workshop in Baghdad and Irkuk this Spring. Given my name, and the proximity to Mosul, it may come as no surprise that I’ve felt as though my destiny somehow lay in (or at least beyond) the Tigris. The dream had no small part in my feeling that this was a trip that I absolutely had to do. Of course, the fact that I’ll be traveling through a war zone, about five weeks before my second daughter is expected to enter the world, certainly gives me pause.

But I simply can’t escape the feeling that destiny is calling me. Its time to step onto the shore.

Wish me luck.

Personal statement

One of the eight bagijillion things I've had to do this month was write a personal statement regarding my work at AUC.

The guidance we got was that it should be 12 pt font, single spaced and we should try to keep it to under one page. I laughed. I've been working there for 18 months. I didn't think I could write a meaningful paragraph, let alone most of a page. Well, guess what? It was almost a full page, and I had to leave stuff out. After I finished writing it, I was pretty pleased with myself. I mean, I'm actually doing stuff!!

I am, after all, just about the laziest person I know (and that's saying a lot). So anyway, just to toot my own horn a little bit more, I thought I'd post my personal statement here:

I first came to AUC in 2003 as a TEFL MA fellow. Because of the collaborative and non-competitive nature of the faculty and administration here, I decided that this was the ideal environment for me to mature as a teacher and expand my skills into as many aspects of education as possible.
Since being hired as a full time English instructor in 2005, I have taught nearly every possible section, including all five of the skills areas at the advanced (99) level as well as Academic Writing (100) and Reading in the Graduate Module (124). Prior to graduation, I also spent one semester as a student teacher in the Writing Program teaching research writing(103) I am currently exploring the possibility of teaching a Core Curriculum course in 2008.
In addition to teaching, I have been working hard to participate in the various duties of the department and in the university. I have edited the ELIte, a publication of student work from our department. I am an active member of the ELI computer committee, where I have organized a sub-committee to keep our website up-to-date and have also joined the ELI assessment committee.
Additionally, I am a member of the AUC Faculty Services Committee where I participate in a number of functions, including new faculty orientation and faculty library acquisition and maintenance. I regularly participate in TEFL MA research projects, student training, and research work of my colleagues.
I also participate in the department activities to enhance our materials and teaching tools. I have recently been working to develop a number of audio materials from online sources. I have also been working to develop a WebCT template for the entire program to use and conducting training sessions for teachers to help them use WebCT.
I also work outside the university to enhance the profession of ESL teaching in Egypt. I am an active member of EgypTesol, and sit on the Education Technology special Interest Group, which organizes occasional workshops as well an annual Electronic Oasis at the main EgypTesol convention, where I have presented workshops every year. I have helped develop an online application process and database to help organize the activities of the Electronic Oasis and the rest of the convention. I have also volunteered to be the Webmaster for the EgypTesol website.

After reading it over, I realized I've left lots of stuff off! Hmm, oh well. I'll try to boast more later.

Well, I never wanted to be the type of blogger who would disappear for weeks at a time only to post a note about how busy he was and then disappear for another long bout. Given my frequency of posts, however, it looks like I’m creeping dangerously in that direction. That said, I would like to boast about the stuff I’ve been doing in recently:

I had a HUGE winter break, over five weeks from the end of classes to the first day of Spring Semester (last Tuesday). With that in mind, I gave myself an enormous list of projects for the month. Ah, how naive. Here’s how January actually went:

Week 1: visit with mother and father-inlaw. Lots of fun, no work done at all.

Week 2: J returned to work, I hung out with Mk. No work done at all (I had actually planned on doing work during her nap time. What I didn’t plan on was that I would need that nap time for…napping.

Week 3: I caved and had the girl go into School with J. Woo hoo! Freedom! No, wait, Mk got an ear infection and had to stay home, see week 2.

Week 4: “That’s it!” I decided and made sure I went into the office to work. Turns out I can play Cyber Nations just as easily there :( Also, turns out I had completely miscalculated when the semester would begin. Although I still had another week to go before classes started, I had agreed to conduct a workshop and student orientation for

Editor's Note: This post was written three weeks ago, just as the semester was begining. As you can see, I didn't even have enough time to finish my sentence. I've been THAT busy. I've got lots more to say, but its 1am and I want to sleep. I'll try to write more soon, I promise. Thanks to all of you who've asked for more.

Oh, and by the way, since one simple blog is obviously too much for me, I'm giving up trying to use live journal for now. I will remain at e-blogger.