Visit with Cairo friends

Last night we finally had Kevan and Sara Lewis over for dinner (and by that I mean that Sara offered to bring dinner to us)! They moved to the Atlanta area at the end of last summer but our plans kept falling through so we only managed to connect yesterday. 

They are good, good friends from our time in Cairo. Somehow they trusted us to watch their five children while they were off traveling around the region for Kevan's work (it was during one such trip that "No Fair Day" was instituted). It is wild to me that those kids are mostly all in their 20s now! 

Kevan and Sara are about a decade older than us, so they've always seemed like this little mirror into the future. I remember once Sara telling me that things (parenthood) gets so much better with older kids because they can do magical things like chores and dressing themselves—and she was right! That part of parenting has gotten easier. 

When it's time to go to the pool, I just tell the kids that we're going. I don't have to wrangle them into swimsuits and then then wrestle them until they're covered in sunscreen because they mostly all know how to do that kind of thing for themselves so they just magically appear ready to go. It's pretty great!

Not that small kids aren't fun (they totally are)...they're just more hands-on work than big kids. 

Last night Sara raved about how great being a grandma is, about how wonderful being an empty-nester is. 

In ten years our first five kids will all be adults (we'll just be waiting on Phoebe), so it was good to see Kevan and Sara enjoying that phase of life, too! I'm sure that in ten years when all our kids are (mostly) grown, we'll also be fine. 

Also! Keven and Sara just moved here from Abu Dhabi, where Kevan was the stake executive secretary (I think), so they travelled around the area quite a bit. Sara raved about the ward in Qatar, Kevan told us we need to drive through Saudi Arabia. We talked about old times, got all caught up on what all the kids (and grandkids!) are doing, told very many, very lame jokes, and somehow took zero pictures.

Our next (and last) visit before we move should be Sam's homecoming next month!

No good can come from bad

I have a million other things to write about but I feel like today would be a good day for Flashback Friday to end its hiatus (it's Monday, though, so perhaps we'll call today Memory Monday) because I've been searching through the archives and though I referenced this story in passing I never really told the story.

Certain current events, however, have made this story seem even more harrowing than I think it felt at the time. I was terrified and angry at the time, yet also felt this sense of control because what was happening felt too ludicrous to be allowed. Surely the border control officer was joking. The very idea was laughable; no one in their right mind would allow it. So of course it couldn't happen, wouldn't happen.

And it didn't happen. Not to me.

But apparently it is happening!

And perhaps I'll talk about that a little bit, but first, the story:

In 2009 we were living in Egypt—a full-blown dictatorship at the time—and my friend Jaehee (a Korean citizen) had to exit the country in order to renew her visa. Since her husband and my husband were both in the middle of their master's degree programs and couldn't take time off of school right then (and, as American citizens, had the option to renew their visas without leaving the country), I told Jaehee that I would be happy to go on a trip out of the country with her. Though I didn't have to leave Egypt to renew my visa, either, I'm always up for an adventure!

We researched the safest/easiest/cheapest place for two women—and one toddler, because 21 month-old Rachel would also be joining us—to fly to and settled on Greece. So we booked our tickets, arranged some hotels, and jetted off across the Mediterranean Sea for a wonderful Hellenic holiday.

Baby Shower and more playground time

Our friends from Egypt—Josh and Carolee—were in town this week. They're due with their first baby just a week after we're due with Benjamin so Carolee's sister threw her a baby shower today. When I got invited I promptly put it on my calendar and then forgot about it...until this morning.

So I quickly made a little baby washcloth and made a "bunny roll" out of it. We wrapped up a package of wet wipes and used the cloth as the "bow." I'm a lame gift-giver, I know. It's even worse for boys than for girls because for girls you can always whip up a few flowers and hot glue them onto barrettes or something. But for boys...I got nothin'.

The shower was fun. It was nice to see Carolee and Josh again and the girls had fun eating and eating and eating. The theme for the shower was "Ships ahoy! It's a boy!" so they had buckets full of popcorn, Swedish fish, and goldfish crackers with shovels for servings spoons. They had decorated an angel food cake as a bouy (with while frosting and strawberry stripes) and had ship-shaped sandwiches. It was all very cute.

We also got to decorate some onesies with some iron-on decals. Miriam chose a fish and Rachel chose a circle. I even let them do the ironing, which they thought was cool. They started to get a little crazy wound-up toward the end so we left to go to the park, but not before snapping a few pictures of us with the Schillings:

And that's a wrap

Is anyone else overjoyed that I've finally finished writing about our road trip? Good.

Unfortunately, it's already July tomorrow and I still have two weeks of June that are completely MIA.

I'm really excited because tomorrow one of my best buddies is moving into town from California. You might remember her from our days in Egypt. I certainly do. Rachel was good friends with her son, Sam, and we just about died when they moved away. But then we didn't.

Anyway, whenever Sam didn't want something he'd say, "No, not!"

"Sam, it's time to brush your teeth."

"No, not!"

"Sam, come and eat your snack."

"No, not!"

"Sam, be nice to Rachel."

"No, not!"

One day Sara asked him what the opposite of "No, not!" was and he said, "Yes, do!" Only he lisps so it came out "Yestha do!"

The reason this is pertinent to our life now is that Miriam has created a contraction of sorts. Instead of saying, "No, not!" she simply says, "Non't!" (rhymes with "don't").

"Miriam, let's brush your teeth."

"Non't!"

"Miriam, that's Rachel's doll."

"Non't!"

"Miriam, it's time to go potty."

"Non't!"

It's hilarious. I'm not quite sure how she came up with it—it's like she merged don't and no and not and won't. Its meaning is all encompassing and it's quite an ingenious coinage, I think.

He's gone!

Today was a momentous day in history—Mubarak abdicated his presidency at 6:00 PM, EET.

That was the first thing Andrew told me this morning and I quickly went to Al Jazeera to watch the jubilant celebration in Midan Tahrir. Rachel joined me.

"That's Egypt," she said, "Are the people still angry?"

"No. They're very happy. They're celebrating."

"It looks the same as when they're angry," she pointed out,  "They're lighting fires and yelling."

Everything ██is█████ ████ ████fine ███ █ ████ love. ████ █████ the ███ Egypt ███ ████ government

A friend on Twitter recently...uhhh...tweeted*...that she spoke with an expat friend who had been in Cairo but recently returned to the United States due to the revolution. She said that it "sounds much worse than they all let on."

I think that's definitely true—now that my friends are returning to the States I'm hearing a lot more about what was going on in their lives I'm seeing the same trend. When they were in Egypt still they were so...silent. Part of that can be blamed on the internet blackout, I'm sure. But after it was back on I expected more facebook updates, more blog posts, more tweets, more...anything.

I received a couple of emails from friends but most of my friends waited until they were standing with two feet firmly on the ground before they gave the world an update of how they were feeling. Many of them were still distressed at having to leave a loved-one (in most cases the husband and father of the family) in Cairo, but the relief they expressed was almost palpable.

In Tahrir Square

I still feel guilty for writing about anything else when people are being shot at, run down, and beaten up. The world is still spinning but somehow I'm stuck on #Jan25 and even though the future looks grim and unbearable I can't look away. Here, life seems surreally calm.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the...wait! The birds are singing!?

The birds are singing and Miriam is rather excited about it.

Food Storage

I just heard from an Egyptian man who belongs to our church. He bore testimony of the principle of provident living:

I am so gratful to Gordon B Hinckley. I stored food and medicine for a month. I hope the branch to stay in Egypt.


Shortly before we left Egypt we had a fireside about provident living—living within your means, setting money and supplies (food, medicine, clothing, etc) for a "rainy day," learning first aid, and so forth. We talked about how important it is for those living abroad to have a three month supply of food and water and things. In North America we're encouraged to have a year's supply but when you're living in a tiny apartment it's pretty difficult to store enough food to last your family for very long.

A letter from Egypt

For some reason the internet is back on in Egypt. No one quite knows why—things are getting rather violent today! Still, at least it is something. I was able to hear from several friends still inside Egypt, whether by their own choice or because they have no means of leaving. Here's an [edited] letter from a friend who is married to an Egyptian:

Hello Nancy!!!

YOU got out in a good time. LUCKY YOU!!!

It is so great to have Internet back again. Thanks for your concern about us here in Cairo. We are just staying home as much as possible and staying off the street. Most of the families in our already small branch have been evacuated and so we are down to 4 ladies and the husbands of many of the families that left. ( me, ———, ——— and ——— ). It is quite sad really. I think that if things calm down then in a month maybe some of those families will come back to Cairo. I hope and pray that happens.

As for school we have not been evacuated and it didn’t seem like the administrators were planning to do so. Even if they did, I was not hired from abroad so I would not be included in those that could get evacuated. I will just hang tight with my family here and keep a low profile and out of harms way as much as possible! We do have small protests happening in my neighborhood and they have caught several thieves or men that were trying to break into places. We have a neighborhood watch out every single night, which consists of the men in the neighborhood armed with long sticks, baseball bats, kitchen knives and poles. They have the streets blocked off with anything that they can find to make a roadblock. Mostly fallen trees, old pieces of wood and piles of bricks. Between the men guarding the streets and the blocked streets, we feel pretty protected.

Evacuations

There have been some questions floating around about the LDS community in Egypt. Not all my friends left in Egypt are LDS but naturally many of them are. With the recent evacuations, I think most of them will be leaving Egypt this week, but perhaps I'll share a few anonymous-like stories.

The LDS humanitarian (not proselytizing) missionary couple are leaving Egypt this week. The mission office has decided that this will mark the end of their mission, instead of sending them back when things stabilize over there.

More on Egypt

What felt all-consuming before is now absolutely mind-boggling.

You just have to wonder about Mubarak—what did he tell his thugs to do? They all seemed to have turned at the same time and are now looting the city, trashing museums, terrorizing citizens. In my mind I picture him saying, "This is the end: take whatever you want," as if it is his to give.

They've smashed two mummies in the Egyptian Museum—they only had like five mummies to begin with—in addition to smashing several other items, though apparently nothing has been stolen.

They've wreaked havoc in downtown Cairo.

The scariest part is that I can no longer tell Rachel that "our house" is safe. It probably isn't. The thugs—who seem to mostly be upper-division police officers and security officials for the National Democratic—are now entering upperclass residential areas, including Maadi. Apparently Carrefour is ablaze, Maadi Grand Mall and Road 9 are being looted, and residences are being broken into as well.

There's absolute chaos everywhere.

Home is...

Today when the girls and I were walking home from playgroup we ran into one of our neighbours.

"Good thing you're back from Egypt!" he called out, "They're really messed up!"

"Things are pretty tense," I agreed.

"The whole region is going crazy! The world is going crazy!"

"It is, it is," I agreed.

Sometimes it's hard for me to discuss politics with our neighbours, who welcomed us "home" with open arms from our "trip" to Egypt. They don't understand that it wasn't a trip—we lived there; it became part of us; Miriam has an Egyptian birth certificate. Egypt was our home. We love Egypt.

#Jan25

My heart goes out to Egypt today.

Last March, shortly before we left Egypt, Mubarak got sick. Of course, the word on the street was that he had gone on a little "vacation." Luckily, we had access to international news and it didn't take us long to confirm that he had gone to Europe for gallbladder surgery (with rumors of more). While he was recuperating we had several conversations with people about what would happen if he died while we were there. I feared the political unrest. Would there be a military takeover? Would his son start ruling in his stead? What would happen?

I'm glad I'm not there because I'm stressed out enough from here.

Andrew, on the other hand, yearns to be part of something historical, something revolutionary. He wants to be there to see it happen.

In all our discussions about "what would happen if Mubarak died" we never once suggested that perhaps Mubarak wouldn't die—perhaps there'd be a national uprising against the government. I don't see why we didn't think of that. Egyptians are passionate enough, brave enough, oppressed enough—and here they are, making it happen.

At least, I hope they are making it happen.

I've been watching the #Jan25 feed on twitter every spare moment I get since, well, January 25th, watching things unfurl. Now, though, the government has plunged the country into a media blackout: there's no internet, no cell phone service, no contact with the outside world...for anyone.

Like I said, I'm glad I'm not there because I'm stressed out enough about it from here.

It's so hard not knowing what is going on. Seeing pictures of Midan Tahrir swarming with people, police, tear gas, and anger and recognizing landmarks is rather surreal. I've used that metro stop. I've been to the restaurant. I let my girls run amok on that sidewalk. There's the Egyptian Museum, AUC campus, the mugama. We have so many happy memories of the place that it doesn't seem possible for it to be taken over with an angry mob.

Once, my brother and I tried to catch a taxi from Midan Tahrir to the Khan, during ramadan—we couldn't because the area was mia'b'mia empty. There were no cars or people as far as the eye could see. That, itself, was odd because Tahrir is usually bustling. We took a minute to meander on the square—in the middle of the road—just because we could, while we tried to figure out the best way to find a cab.

That calm, peaceful evening is such a contrast to the pictures I've seen of people lining the streets, praying, shouting, walking, fighting—thronging, thronging, thronging—trying to pressure the government to give it up and get out.

Addendum: Homesickness strikes on the trail

I totally forgot that while we were doing the Riverside Walk that one of the many times we stopped to rest we sat on a rock by a cute, elderly woman. She told us that her family had gone ahead without her and she was planning on resting until they came back to retrieve her. She was diabetic and had forgotten to bring a snack with her and the time to eat was past-due so she didn't want to push herself.

Having packed way more food than we could possibly eat, I offered her one of our granola bars.

She accepted and we proceeded to chat with her for a few minutes. We asked her where she was from--Salt Lake City--and told her that we were from Utah, too.

"Well," Rachel said, gesticulating wildly, "They're from Utah, but we're not. We're from Egypt."

"Oh, really?" the woman said slightly incredulously. "Where in Egypt are you from?"

"Cairo. But we had to move here so my dad could go to school. But we're going back to Egypt when he's done."

"Oh?" the woman looked at me for verification.

"Yes, my husband did a master's degree at the American University in Cairo so we lived there for two years, which is all she remembers, and we're at BYU now getting another degree."

"My sister was born in Egypt!" Rachel interjected, "And sometimes we like to ride feluccas or visit the pyramids! I don't like camels!"

The poor girl misses "home" so much. She's constantly having pretend phone calls with her friend, Tuesday, and recently we've been playing "fly to pretend Egypt."

Andrew's parents own the apartment we lived in before we moved to Egypt. Someone else lives there now, obviously, and they had asked Karen to fix some plumbing problem in the condo, so last week she asked Rachel if she'd like to go with Grandma to visit the apartment she used to live in.

"The apartment I used to live in?!" Rachel squealed, "Yes! I want to go!"

"Alright, let's go!" said Grandma.

"To Egypt?" Rachel sighed dreamily.

No. Not to Egypt. Unfortunately.

I miss home, too.

Just Half

On October 30th I'll be running "The Halloween Half," a half-marathon (13.2 miles or 21.25 km) down the Provo Canyon. I've been running fairly consistently since July and recently found a new running partner who also wants to be a quasi-serious runner. We go running a couple of times a week at the track and on Saturday morning we'll be doing our first "long run."

I've never actually trained for a big race before, so it's nice to be paired up with someone who has a little more experience. Brother Gillespie set us up. He just ran the St. George Marathon, coming in at 3:51:36. He was a little miffed that he didn't run it in under 3:35:00. That's the qualifying time for the Boston Marathon for his age bracket--he ran the Boston Marathon while we were in Egypt, so either last year or the year before that--and I imagine it's something he'd like to do again. Anyway, he knew that we both wanted to run and that we both needed to work our running times around our motherly duties, so he introduced us saying, "Nancy, this is Wendy. Wendy likes to run. Wendy, this is Nancy. Nancy likes to run, too."

We've been running together ever since. She'll be running the half-marathon with me. More exactly, she'll be running the half-marathon with her husband and I'll be tagging along as the third wheel.

I decided to run for a cause to help me keep going, to make every footstep mean something more than just me...running down a canyon...for "fun." My inspiration for this came from my friends Amy, who also runs for causes, and Tamsin, who is always doing amazing service projects and is simply a service-oriented person, and a dear anonymous friend, who recently was diagnosed with bladder cancer but I haven't asked her if I could disclose her name so she'll remain anonymous.

I've started a campaign at charity:water to earn money for water. My goal is to earn $2,500 by October 30th. $2,500 is enough money to fund half a well that will bring fresh, clean water to 300 people.

Clean water is very important to me--things have a way of becoming more important to you when you have to do without them. In Egypt we carted drinking water to our house week after week after week. It's back-breaking and tiresome work. Our water, though, was bottled water from clean springs in desert oases, not the contaminated water many of the locals were drinking. We saw people swimming in the Nile, drinking from the Nile, fishing in the Nile. We, on the other hand, were afraid to get a drop of non-treated river water on us. The Nile is polluted and snails harboring a parasite called Schistosoma run rampant in the murky water. These parasites cause a disease called Schistosomiasis, which causes an array of complications, most notably bladder cancer, the most prominent cancer in men in Egypt.

Bladder cancer aside, Schistosoma is a terrible disease to contract. According to Wikipedia, "among human parasitic diseases, schistosomiasis (sometimes called bilharziasis) ranks second behind malaria in terms of socio-economic and public health importance in tropical and subtropical areas" and puts and estimated 600 million people worldwide at risk; the disease is endemic to Egypt and approximately 70 other developing countries.

Water free from contamination for drinking, bathing, and cooking is crucial for villages hoping to eradicate schistosomiasis outbreaks as complete avoidance of the parasite is the only way to prevent contracting the disease. (While controlling the schistosoma population is possible, through the introduction of crayfish, for example, that seems to cause another set of problems).

Anyway, that's my rant on clean drinking water. To sum up, I'm hoping to raise $2,500 by October 30th.

I realize I'm starting a bit late starting this whole thing considering it's already October 5th. I fully intended to begin campaigning on October 1st but my plans changed when I was stricken with the stomach flu. I'm finally back in full-force, though, and went running yesterday for the first time since being sick. I think I should be good to go by the end of the month. Plus all campaigns are automatically given a 3-month window so you'll have until December 30th to donate in case you forget.

Go to http://mycharitywater.org/halloweenhalf to donate now. Have your friends and family donate, too!

You know you’ve been in Egypt too long when…

Your landlord shows up at your door unannounced at 11:55 PM…and you’re cool with that because, hey, you weren’t planning on going to bed for a few more hours, anyway.

You tell time by the call to prayer.

You judge the seasons by whatever creepy crawlies are taking over your apartment. Or by what fruit is for sale.

It’s 30°C (86°F) outside and you wish you had remembered to bring a jacket.

The weather forecast is always the same—it’s been 40°C (104°F) for weeks now.

Just around the river bend!

So many titles ran through my head while trying to make a title for this post, most of which had to do with Steamboatin’—a musical my brother and I were in when I was in grade 3 and he was in grade 5. I’m sure he remembers even though it was, oh, seventeen years ago.

Paddle wheeler rollin’ down the Mississip’!
Won’t you come and join us for a steamboat trip!
Paddle wheeler standin’ proud as she can be
All decked out and waiting for some company!

Step inside
(Just step inside)
We’re goin’ on a steamboat ride
(We’re goin’ on a steamboat ride)
Come with me
(With me!)
We’ll travel down in history!

It went something like that, anyway, and while judging from the decrepitated condition of the boat, this ride promised to be a ride through history, there was nothing remotely inviting about taking a ride on it. Our original plan was to ride downstream to Kanater, the Nile locks, and play around there for a while. However, no boats were running there when we arrived at the water bus station.

Donkeys at Dar es-Salaam

We’ve visited Dar es-Salaam twice with Josie. I wanted to get Andrew a nice galabia before we left and had come across a store that had ones I thought he’d like—I just didn’t have him with me to try them on so I had to bring him back to it. We decided, while we were getting his galabia to get some more traditional clothing.

Isdals—full khimars, or head-style abayas—have been becoming increasingly popular here in Cairo. I started noticing them last year sometime, but I don’t remember seeing them much before.

Zagazig

I’m not going to lie: We originally opted to visit this city solely because of its name, hoping that there was something else cool enough about it to warrant a trip. Zagazig? Who wouldn’t want to go there? It’s like zigzag…only backwards. Granted, they don’t say zag-a-zig in Egypt. They drop the Gs so it comes out like za-a-zi, but still, it’s a cool name.

Zagazig is a bustling town in the Delta, with a population of around 279,000, according to Wikipedia. It claims the ruins of the ancient city Bubastis, or Tell Basta, named after the feline goddess Bastet, and is possibly the city Pi-beseth, mentioned in Ezekiel 30:17.

Ain Sokhna Finale

After church on Friday we headed out to Ain Sokhna for one last hurrah at the Red Sea. It was wonderful, of course. Rachel was so excited to start playing at the beach.