Not a Panacea
*Sigh*
I guess the fountain doesn't fix everything . . .
I guess the fountain doesn't fix everything . . .
A Burden Lifted
There has been a burden lifted off my shoulders today. It had been there for a week before I even recognized that it was a burden. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty good at just not "feeling" some of my feelings . . . stress, in particular. My body reacts: I don't sleep. But that's pretty common for me whether I'm stressed or not, so I often don't subjectively recognize that I'm feeling stressed out.
Take this latest example. I did a post last week that I had been asked to take a leadership role in the silent auction and raffle for the 2008 Maadi Women's Guild Christmas Bazaar. The very day that I accepted the position, I stopped sleeping. I became restless. I suddenly had an urge to clean my flat. I felt a little anxiety about the bazaar; that was normal--I've never done anything like this, and there's a lot to do. But I shied away from doing anything. I didn't know where to start. Now, had I thought it through, I would have recognized what I was experiencing: my classic "I am overwhelmed/in over my head/incapable of handling this" response. But I didn't think it through. I just did some cleaning and focused on other things.
Then God decided that, yes, it is again time to remind Deborah to pay attention to her body's natural cues. So He gave me one I couldn't miss. At my Sunday morning study of the book Captivating (by John and Stasi Eldredge), while we were giving prayer requests, I asked the ladies in my group to pray for me because I was feeling a little anxious about this leadership role. I thought I was pretty casual about it. But Ute, our leader, saw that there was more to it than that, so she got me talking about it. The next thing I knew, I was bawling. All of the suppressed anxiety rose to the surface, and I realized just how unprepared I am for that responsibility. It's like a random, inexperienced, guy off the street was put in charge of a Fortune 500 company. No clue where to start. Even if people tell him what needs to be done, he really doesn't have the knowledge or experience to accomplish it. That's how I felt.
So we prayed, and after I got home, I prayed some more. I told God all about how unprepared I felt, and that while I was willing, I didn't think I had the knowledge or skills to be effective in this role. I asked that He either would give this responsibility to someone else or give me the peace that He would get it done even if it was through me. After I prayed, I had peace about the situation. I felt God impressing upon me that the leadership role was not where He wanted me this year. My assigned role was what I had originally volunteered for: to work in partnership with others and to learn the things that I would need to know to step up to a position of greater responsibility in the future. However, I also felt that it was not yet clear if that would be possible, due to a lack of volunteers who were willing and able to take responsibility. But my gracious God gave me a peace that even if I did need to continue in the leadership role, He would make it work, and I had nothing to worry about. If I continued in a leadership role this year, it wouldn't be His preferred plan, but He would bless the efforts anyway.
One of the other ladies in the group is working on the bazaar, too, and Marge actually had asked her to check in on me and see how I was doing. Marge had known I was hesitant and wanted to make sure I could handle it. So Marge was told that whether I could handle it or not, I didn't think I could, and I was very anxious about this. (No confidences were broken, even though we do have a rule that nothing from Sunday morning goes outside the group. Marge is a part of our group, but she wasn't able to be there this week. Also, before I had said much at all, the other lady told me that Marge had asked her to check on me, so I knew the information would be shared--and I wanted it to be; otherwise, I would have said so, and it wouldn't have been shared.)
So this morning, I had a meeting with Halina about the auction. When I got there, Marge was there as well. Marge has been busy! Marge has agreed to take responsibility--even though she has SO much other stuff on her plate--and there is a team of four of us who will work under her leadership. We will do most of the time-consuming footwork, since Marge has enough time-consuming activities to do as president of the Maadi Women's Guild and as coordinator for the commercial vendors at the bazaar. Halina is soliciting donations from the greater Cairo, non-Maadi, area, including the large donations such as Nile cruises, airline tickets, and hotel stays. Pam and I will take the lead on obtaining smaller donations from businesses within Maadi, with help from Jennifer, who also will decorate for the silent auction. Marge will go along the first time or two, since Pam and I haven't done that before. I'm doing the administrative stuff--keeping track of the donors so we can make sure they all get recognized on the bazaar map and in the January issue of the Maadi Messenger. I'll also take the lead on deciding what goes into the raffle as opposed to the auction, and I'll also try to figure out, based on the donations we receive, how to group donated items into "theme baskets," which tend to sell better than single items. Pam, who is more creative and artistic than I am, will assemble the baskets, making them look way better than I could. As we go along, other tasks will get assigned to the person best able to handle them.
So I'm still very involved, but I no longer have the final responsibility. Marge is overtasked, so her leadership will be primarily in the form of instruction and answering questions. The rest of the burden is spread out among four of us. I'm getting the opportunity to learn without it feeling so much like "sink or swim."
This afternoon, Marge, Pam, and I went to a few shops to solicit donations. In just a few minutes, we collected an inlay box, a lamp, two perfume bottles, and a bunch of children's books. We also have a commitment for some gift certificates to a local restaurant--the owners told us he would give them to us after we come and enjoy our free lunch; they recently purchased the restaurant, changed a lot of things, and want us to have personal testimony of the good food and service. We're going out again on Sunday.
My attitude has totally changed. I'm looking forward to going on Sunday. I'm excited about the bazaar again. I no longer shy away from even thinking about it. It truly is a burden lifted from my shoulders. Praise God, or as they say here in Cairo, "al ham du lee lah!"
Take this latest example. I did a post last week that I had been asked to take a leadership role in the silent auction and raffle for the 2008 Maadi Women's Guild Christmas Bazaar. The very day that I accepted the position, I stopped sleeping. I became restless. I suddenly had an urge to clean my flat. I felt a little anxiety about the bazaar; that was normal--I've never done anything like this, and there's a lot to do. But I shied away from doing anything. I didn't know where to start. Now, had I thought it through, I would have recognized what I was experiencing: my classic "I am overwhelmed/in over my head/incapable of handling this" response. But I didn't think it through. I just did some cleaning and focused on other things.
Then God decided that, yes, it is again time to remind Deborah to pay attention to her body's natural cues. So He gave me one I couldn't miss. At my Sunday morning study of the book Captivating (by John and Stasi Eldredge), while we were giving prayer requests, I asked the ladies in my group to pray for me because I was feeling a little anxious about this leadership role. I thought I was pretty casual about it. But Ute, our leader, saw that there was more to it than that, so she got me talking about it. The next thing I knew, I was bawling. All of the suppressed anxiety rose to the surface, and I realized just how unprepared I am for that responsibility. It's like a random, inexperienced, guy off the street was put in charge of a Fortune 500 company. No clue where to start. Even if people tell him what needs to be done, he really doesn't have the knowledge or experience to accomplish it. That's how I felt.
So we prayed, and after I got home, I prayed some more. I told God all about how unprepared I felt, and that while I was willing, I didn't think I had the knowledge or skills to be effective in this role. I asked that He either would give this responsibility to someone else or give me the peace that He would get it done even if it was through me. After I prayed, I had peace about the situation. I felt God impressing upon me that the leadership role was not where He wanted me this year. My assigned role was what I had originally volunteered for: to work in partnership with others and to learn the things that I would need to know to step up to a position of greater responsibility in the future. However, I also felt that it was not yet clear if that would be possible, due to a lack of volunteers who were willing and able to take responsibility. But my gracious God gave me a peace that even if I did need to continue in the leadership role, He would make it work, and I had nothing to worry about. If I continued in a leadership role this year, it wouldn't be His preferred plan, but He would bless the efforts anyway.
One of the other ladies in the group is working on the bazaar, too, and Marge actually had asked her to check in on me and see how I was doing. Marge had known I was hesitant and wanted to make sure I could handle it. So Marge was told that whether I could handle it or not, I didn't think I could, and I was very anxious about this. (No confidences were broken, even though we do have a rule that nothing from Sunday morning goes outside the group. Marge is a part of our group, but she wasn't able to be there this week. Also, before I had said much at all, the other lady told me that Marge had asked her to check on me, so I knew the information would be shared--and I wanted it to be; otherwise, I would have said so, and it wouldn't have been shared.)
So this morning, I had a meeting with Halina about the auction. When I got there, Marge was there as well. Marge has been busy! Marge has agreed to take responsibility--even though she has SO much other stuff on her plate--and there is a team of four of us who will work under her leadership. We will do most of the time-consuming footwork, since Marge has enough time-consuming activities to do as president of the Maadi Women's Guild and as coordinator for the commercial vendors at the bazaar. Halina is soliciting donations from the greater Cairo, non-Maadi, area, including the large donations such as Nile cruises, airline tickets, and hotel stays. Pam and I will take the lead on obtaining smaller donations from businesses within Maadi, with help from Jennifer, who also will decorate for the silent auction. Marge will go along the first time or two, since Pam and I haven't done that before. I'm doing the administrative stuff--keeping track of the donors so we can make sure they all get recognized on the bazaar map and in the January issue of the Maadi Messenger. I'll also take the lead on deciding what goes into the raffle as opposed to the auction, and I'll also try to figure out, based on the donations we receive, how to group donated items into "theme baskets," which tend to sell better than single items. Pam, who is more creative and artistic than I am, will assemble the baskets, making them look way better than I could. As we go along, other tasks will get assigned to the person best able to handle them.
So I'm still very involved, but I no longer have the final responsibility. Marge is overtasked, so her leadership will be primarily in the form of instruction and answering questions. The rest of the burden is spread out among four of us. I'm getting the opportunity to learn without it feeling so much like "sink or swim."
This afternoon, Marge, Pam, and I went to a few shops to solicit donations. In just a few minutes, we collected an inlay box, a lamp, two perfume bottles, and a bunch of children's books. We also have a commitment for some gift certificates to a local restaurant--the owners told us he would give them to us after we come and enjoy our free lunch; they recently purchased the restaurant, changed a lot of things, and want us to have personal testimony of the good food and service. We're going out again on Sunday.
My attitude has totally changed. I'm looking forward to going on Sunday. I'm excited about the bazaar again. I no longer shy away from even thinking about it. It truly is a burden lifted from my shoulders. Praise God, or as they say here in Cairo, "al ham du lee lah!"
The Joy of Water
Cleo has discovered the joys of running water.
She loves to hop up on the counter by the sink, get in the sink, play with the running water in the sink . . . I can't stop her. For a while, I squirted her with the water bottle every time she got on the counter or in the sink. Sometimes she'd jump down, sometimes she'd hide behind the microwave oven, and sometimes she'd attack the water bottle. Okay, if she wants escalation . . . I started turning the water on while she was in the sink, often when she was directly under the faucet. She'd hop out, groom herself for about 30 seconds, and hop back in. She also likes to stand on the ledge in between me and the bathroom sink when I brush my teeth. There have been times I've had to pick her up out of the sink so I could spit without getting toothpaste on her.
Cleo taught Isis about the joys of running water. Of course, Isis isn't quite so sure about water of any kind. If I shake the water bottle at her, she jumps down and runs into the living room. I turned the water on once while both Isis and Cleo were in the sink. Isis hasn't come near the sink since. But, still, Cleo is a problem.
So we ordered a Drinkwell pet fountain. It arrived yesterday (thanks for forwarding it, Mom). The cats were
enthralled before we even set it up. Cleo was soaking wet from getting on the table where I was unpacking it--the water bottle strikes there, too, not that it much matters to her. She'll hop up on the table, counter, or wherever she wants to be, even if she's already dripping. When I put the fountain on the floor, Isis got in on it. I put it in its spot and filled it with water using a cup. Isis sniffed around the bowl, backing off when I approached with water--apparently you never know what I'm going to do with water--but quickly returning once it was clear that the water was going in the bowl and 
wasn't splashing back up. Cleo followed me to and from the kitchen. When I filled the cup, she stood on the counter by the sink, stretched out over it, with one paw exerting pressure on the cup. I'm not sure if she was trying to pull it to her or tip it over. When I left the sink, she hopped down and followed me to the fountain.You should have seen them when we turned the fountain on! Isis ran away at first, before coming to sit about a foot away and watch. Cleo stuck her paw in the water stream, then yanked it back out, shook it, and looked at it as if to say "Why is it wet?" Then she did it again. Yep, Cleo, water is still wet. She drank some, splashed some, had a good ole time. Isis eventually approached. First she drank out of the bowl. Then she stuck her paw in the stream. Then she drank some.
I didn't get my camera out soon enough. I wish I'd had it out when we first turned the fountain on; there would have been some really fun video. However, you'll have to be content with the pictures I got once they had settled down enough for me to stop laughing and think of the camera. I got one video of Cleo playing some with the water, but she kept stopping to look at the camera. I turned it off when she walked away from the fountain and started rubbing against my ankles. Anyway, here's the video I got:
I haven't caught Cleo in the sink since we plugged the fountain in . . .
It's Raining!
Or at least it was. I didn't actually see the rain. Jeff felt a couple of drops when he was downstairs putting the grocery cart back. I didn't really believe him when he told me (I asked if there had been a bird overhead), even though I had noticed earlier that the sky looked like rain. I figured, hey, I'm in Egypt; it probably isn't rain on the way, just a dust storm (which I have not yet experienced).
Then, just a few minutes ago, Jeff called me over to the window. The courtyard was wet, but not all over, like it is when they wash it. It was dry under the overhangs. We went out onto the walkway, and the railing was wet. But when we stuck our hands out, there was no rain. Jeff pointed out that it actually doesn't rain water here anyway. On those rare occasions when it rains, it rains mud. At least that's what we've been told.
I haven't seen rain since before we left the States, in mid-June. I hadn't even noticed until today.
Then, just a few minutes ago, Jeff called me over to the window. The courtyard was wet, but not all over, like it is when they wash it. It was dry under the overhangs. We went out onto the walkway, and the railing was wet. But when we stuck our hands out, there was no rain. Jeff pointed out that it actually doesn't rain water here anyway. On those rare occasions when it rains, it rains mud. At least that's what we've been told.
I haven't seen rain since before we left the States, in mid-June. I hadn't even noticed until today.
An Egyptian First
My friend Lauren emailed me a link to a very interesting newspaper article this morning. Let me summarize:
In June 2007, in Cairo, a 28-year-old boy in a man's body (Sharif Gomaa) pulled his van alongside a 27-year-old woman (Noha Rushdie Saleh), reached out of his window, grabbed her breast, and pulled her toward his van. She pushed him away, falling down in the process. Gomaa then attempted to pull away, but--thank heaven for Cairo traffic--was unable to do so because another driver cut him off. Noha then did the unthinkable: she stood on the hood of Gomaa's vehicle to prevent him from getting away, and she asked passersby for help. They refused her. One woman even told Noha to "look at what [she was] wearing" because she wasn't wearing hijab. Noha was undeterred. She and a friend dragged Gomaa to a nearby police station . . . where the police initially refused to do anything. Eventually Noha herself drove a police officer and Gomaa to the main police station. Finally, over a year later, earlier this week, Gomaa was sentenced to three years in prison with hard labor. It's the first time in Egyptian history that a man has been sentenced for sexual harassment.
My initial reaction: Noha, you are one brave woman, and I respect you very much. Good for you, for not backing down, for demanding justice in a situation where everything about your history must have been telling you that you wouldn't get it. I am impressed.
Sexual harassment is not at all uncommon here in Egypt. Female tourists are advised to wear a wedding band, even if they aren't married, and that helps curb the harassment some, but it doesn't eliminate it. According to the news article, 83% of Egyptian women say that they have been harassed. Only 3% report it, because nothing will be done . . . there isn't even a specific law in Egypt banning sexual harassment. The common response is to blame the victim. She wasn't dressed modestly; she was asking for it. As if men are so weak that they have no control over their actions; a woman wearing loose long sleeves and loose long pants is just so alluring that they can't help themselves. Puh-lease. If you believe that, there's a bridge I'd like to sell you.
And it isn't even always the case that the victims aren't dressed modestly, even according to the Muslim definition. During the Eid (holiday) after Ramadan this year, a mob of around 100 youths attacked female pedestrians, I believe in Mohandiseen, a Cairo neighborhood. More details here and here. The same thing happened during the same Eid in 2006. The attackers ripped at the women's clothes, tearing them off. The women were wearing hijab. One even was wearing niqab, which covers the face as well as the hair. The attackers tried to tear it off. Now I understand why we foreigners are advised not to go out walking during the Eid. I'm not sure why it is that the end of a religious celebration--Ramadan--is marked by this kind of sexual violence, but it's a pattern and therefore should be recognized. On the positive side, this incident also pointed out some improvements in government response. Although no police officers were present when the mob began the attack, the police arrived quickly and put an end to it. Eight people were arrested. They went before a judge earlier this month, but I haven't seen any reports of the outcome.
The harassment usually is not violent like it was in these incidents. I know of one embassy wife who received a hard slap on the behind from some punk on a motorcycle, but most of the harassment is verbal. There will be catcalls or rude suggestions yelled at women. Women have been cautioned not to ever sit in the front of a taxi with the driver--some drivers assume that means you're sexually available, and they get free with their hands. There's also some inappropriate touching on the streets. (I've been told if that ever happens to me, it's perfectly acceptable for me to start yelling and screaming and berating whoever did it, as long as I don't curse or hit them. I'm not sure what my actual response would be; I haven't had to find out.)
I personally have experienced very little harassment. I'm pretty sure I've heard a few rude suggestions or comments, but since my Arabic is very limited, I didn't understand them, which is fine by me. There are some phrases I'd just as soon not learn. I had a cab driver yesterday yell at me out the window, as he pulled off to the side of the road to offer me a ride, "bee-yoo-ti-ful!" I scowled at him and kept walking. Even if I had wanted a ride, I wouldn't have gotten into his taxi. I had another taxi driver the other day who was marginal; in America, he would have been someone who just bungled a pick-up attempt, but here, he was bordering on rude, at the minimum. He kept staring in his mirror and telling me how good and beautiful American women are. So I responded by telling him how good and beautiful and smart and strong Egyptian women are. He said "No, they are not!" I told him he was wrong and got out of the cab. I pretended not to notice when he tried to give me his mobile number so I could call him when I needed a taxi. I just handed him my LE5 through the window and walked away.
So there you have it. Most, if not all, women in Cairo will experience some form of harassment at some point in time. Most of it is verbal; some involves physical touching. In rare cases, there will be violence. It's one of the trade-offs to living in Egypt, a trade-off that shouldn't have to be made, but that remains nonetheless. On the one hand, we Western women get to experience a totally different culture, visit some amazing archeological sites, and meet some incredible people. On the other hand, we have to put up with some offensive and shocking behavior. I would love to know how Egyptian women think about it--the ones who have been harassed, and the ones who haven't. Do most blame the victim, or is that a minority opinion among women? Do they view it as a normal part of life to be accepted, or does it anger them like it does Western women? And what do the majority of Egyptian men think--do they blame the victim or do they recognize that men are responsible for their own behavior? When their wife or daughter is the victim, who do they blame?
There are forces at work within Egypt to enhance women's legal and social standing and to decrease harassment, and progress is being made, as shown by the improved response to this year's Eid violence. Here's hoping the situation continues to improve.
In June 2007, in Cairo, a 28-year-old boy in a man's body (Sharif Gomaa) pulled his van alongside a 27-year-old woman (Noha Rushdie Saleh), reached out of his window, grabbed her breast, and pulled her toward his van. She pushed him away, falling down in the process. Gomaa then attempted to pull away, but--thank heaven for Cairo traffic--was unable to do so because another driver cut him off. Noha then did the unthinkable: she stood on the hood of Gomaa's vehicle to prevent him from getting away, and she asked passersby for help. They refused her. One woman even told Noha to "look at what [she was] wearing" because she wasn't wearing hijab. Noha was undeterred. She and a friend dragged Gomaa to a nearby police station . . . where the police initially refused to do anything. Eventually Noha herself drove a police officer and Gomaa to the main police station. Finally, over a year later, earlier this week, Gomaa was sentenced to three years in prison with hard labor. It's the first time in Egyptian history that a man has been sentenced for sexual harassment.
My initial reaction: Noha, you are one brave woman, and I respect you very much. Good for you, for not backing down, for demanding justice in a situation where everything about your history must have been telling you that you wouldn't get it. I am impressed.
Sexual harassment is not at all uncommon here in Egypt. Female tourists are advised to wear a wedding band, even if they aren't married, and that helps curb the harassment some, but it doesn't eliminate it. According to the news article, 83% of Egyptian women say that they have been harassed. Only 3% report it, because nothing will be done . . . there isn't even a specific law in Egypt banning sexual harassment. The common response is to blame the victim. She wasn't dressed modestly; she was asking for it. As if men are so weak that they have no control over their actions; a woman wearing loose long sleeves and loose long pants is just so alluring that they can't help themselves. Puh-lease. If you believe that, there's a bridge I'd like to sell you.
And it isn't even always the case that the victims aren't dressed modestly, even according to the Muslim definition. During the Eid (holiday) after Ramadan this year, a mob of around 100 youths attacked female pedestrians, I believe in Mohandiseen, a Cairo neighborhood. More details here and here. The same thing happened during the same Eid in 2006. The attackers ripped at the women's clothes, tearing them off. The women were wearing hijab. One even was wearing niqab, which covers the face as well as the hair. The attackers tried to tear it off. Now I understand why we foreigners are advised not to go out walking during the Eid. I'm not sure why it is that the end of a religious celebration--Ramadan--is marked by this kind of sexual violence, but it's a pattern and therefore should be recognized. On the positive side, this incident also pointed out some improvements in government response. Although no police officers were present when the mob began the attack, the police arrived quickly and put an end to it. Eight people were arrested. They went before a judge earlier this month, but I haven't seen any reports of the outcome.
The harassment usually is not violent like it was in these incidents. I know of one embassy wife who received a hard slap on the behind from some punk on a motorcycle, but most of the harassment is verbal. There will be catcalls or rude suggestions yelled at women. Women have been cautioned not to ever sit in the front of a taxi with the driver--some drivers assume that means you're sexually available, and they get free with their hands. There's also some inappropriate touching on the streets. (I've been told if that ever happens to me, it's perfectly acceptable for me to start yelling and screaming and berating whoever did it, as long as I don't curse or hit them. I'm not sure what my actual response would be; I haven't had to find out.)
I personally have experienced very little harassment. I'm pretty sure I've heard a few rude suggestions or comments, but since my Arabic is very limited, I didn't understand them, which is fine by me. There are some phrases I'd just as soon not learn. I had a cab driver yesterday yell at me out the window, as he pulled off to the side of the road to offer me a ride, "bee-yoo-ti-ful!" I scowled at him and kept walking. Even if I had wanted a ride, I wouldn't have gotten into his taxi. I had another taxi driver the other day who was marginal; in America, he would have been someone who just bungled a pick-up attempt, but here, he was bordering on rude, at the minimum. He kept staring in his mirror and telling me how good and beautiful American women are. So I responded by telling him how good and beautiful and smart and strong Egyptian women are. He said "No, they are not!" I told him he was wrong and got out of the cab. I pretended not to notice when he tried to give me his mobile number so I could call him when I needed a taxi. I just handed him my LE5 through the window and walked away.
So there you have it. Most, if not all, women in Cairo will experience some form of harassment at some point in time. Most of it is verbal; some involves physical touching. In rare cases, there will be violence. It's one of the trade-offs to living in Egypt, a trade-off that shouldn't have to be made, but that remains nonetheless. On the one hand, we Western women get to experience a totally different culture, visit some amazing archeological sites, and meet some incredible people. On the other hand, we have to put up with some offensive and shocking behavior. I would love to know how Egyptian women think about it--the ones who have been harassed, and the ones who haven't. Do most blame the victim, or is that a minority opinion among women? Do they view it as a normal part of life to be accepted, or does it anger them like it does Western women? And what do the majority of Egyptian men think--do they blame the victim or do they recognize that men are responsible for their own behavior? When their wife or daughter is the victim, who do they blame?
There are forces at work within Egypt to enhance women's legal and social standing and to decrease harassment, and progress is being made, as shown by the improved response to this year's Eid violence. Here's hoping the situation continues to improve.
