Tag: Egypt

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

A Survey of Priests

One of the most interesting projects and papers which have been produced over the past few months was a survey of diocesan priests we conducted under the authority of the bishop of Beni Suef. This was done following the incident at Izbet Bushra, described in the last post, in an effort to determine how this was experienced by other priests in the area. More importantly, it asked a number of questions concerning their community interactions with Muslims. From this we made an elementary statistical analysis which produced insightful finding for good practices which lead toward peace. I have printed the abstract below, under which is a link to the full report, which is quite a bit shorter than previous ones to which I have linked. I hope you enjoy.

The clashes between Muslims and Christians in Izbet Bushra on June 21, 2009 resulted from a dispute in the village over using a private residence for community prayer services. Though details from the event are hard to confirm, it appears that Christians anticipated many difficulties in gaining permission to build a traditional church structure, and therefore used deception to build a residence for the priest with a prayer hall under the guise of being a factory. Though much critique has been leveled at the government of Egypt concerning the right of Christians to build churches, from the example of Izbet Bushra and elsewhere, this paper seeks to look at the issue from another perspective. What are the community patterns necessary to avoid the occurrence of religious tension? Though the practical question is not addressed it is a worthy introduction: Had there been good relations between the Muslims and Christians of Izbet Bushra to begin with, might the Christian desire to build a church have engendered any controversy at all?

In the aftermath of the conflict we obtained permission from Bishop Stephanos of Beba and el-Fashn to conduct a survey of the priests in his diocese. In it we asked a number of questions designed to discover the patterns of relationship between the Christian and Muslim communities within each priest’s jurisdiction. We also asked a number of questions concerning their knowledge and opinion of the incident which took place in Izbet Bushra.

From the survey results we were able to make basic observations establishing several patterns to the key question asked each priest: How are would you describe relations between Muslims and Christians in your area of service? The three options given were: Improving, About the Same or Stable, and Deteriorating. There are definite correlations which emerge when studying the data. Among the questions asked are:

  • Does your area employ private residences for worship?
  • What is your relationship like with the area imam?
  • Are there joint projects between Muslims and Christians in your area?
  • Do Christians in your area serve in the police or security forces?
  • Do Muslims and Christians frequent the same area shops?
  • What is your method for dealing with clashes?
  • Who is the first person you would inform in the case of a clash?
  • What is the demographic data from your area, population of Muslims and Christians, number of mosques and churches, registration status of each, etc.

These questions and others produce observations which make strong suggestions about ideal community practices which lead toward improving religious relations or away from a condition of deterioration. As such, they are offered as suggestions to the Christian community in general, in hope of producing interreligious harmony which may prevent the incident of violent conflict over the normal and natural disputes which occur whenever people exist together in community. One may easily surmise that community involvement and personal interaction lead toward improving relations between residents of an area; this paper presents statistical information which demonstrates the correlation.

Click here for the full report.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Izbet Bushra

Following upon the text from yesterday which introduced our summary report, I post here the abstract for the paper which described our findings from the case study which informed it. Should you wish to read the full paper, it will provide a window into the vagaries and contradictions of Egyptian media reporting on incidents of violent conflict. The paper is an effort to sort through these reports to determine what really took place, but to go further and suggest paths for reconciliation. This was more or less the first case I received in Egypt with Arab West Report; until recently almost all subsequent activity was related to it.

On June 21, 2009 violent conflict broke out between Muslims, Christians, and security forces of Izbet Bushra, a small village located in the governorate of Beni Suef, approximately 120 kilometers south of Cairo. The issue at hand was Coptic prayer services being conducted in a private home, which caused offense to Muslim neighbors, who constitute approximately 60% of village population. Damage was done to the building as well as to other Christian homes, and people from both sides were injured in the altercation. Security arrested many and imposed curfew, after which Christians conducted a sit-in protest at the cathedral in el-Fashn, the location of the bishopric to which Izbet Bushra belongs. This was followed shortly thereafter by reconciliation session between all sides, which freed all perpetrators from custody and produced an oral agreement to compensate afflicted parties and authorize an official church in a different location in the village. Until today that promise has not been kept; security relates that sufficient tension has not yet been removed from the village.

These lines may represent a summarized timeline of the events following June 21, but they hardly represent the entire story. This paper explores the issue of Izbet Bushra in depth, seeking to discover the larger context behind the incident as provide integration of as many facts and testimonies as could be collected. This has been done through access to the many media reports published about village, as well as through investigative research undertaken by the Arab West Report team or by others commissioned on our behalf. The result is a thorough collection of data that rounds out the story, providing depth and color.

Unfortunately, a wealth of data also produces confusion. Testimony from the two sides is contradictory, as are the news reports which depended on these oppositional sources. Yet background can be provided in stating that the house used for public prayer services was not an innocent effort to conduct Christian worship. While it is true that no formal church building exists in Izbet Bushra, and that the procedures for obtaining permission to construct a church are burdensome and lack transparency, the Christians of the village purposely deceived both government administration and Muslim neighbors in declaring the building in question to be built as a factory. Upon its completion it was then first made into a residence for the priest and then employed in its lower hall for church services. While this fact makes more understandable the Muslim reactions, details even here and in the attack which followed remain unclear.

This paper first arranges all testimony, no matter how contradictory, into a narrative flow in order to give a timeline of events. It then records a best attempt at synthesis in order to distinguish from fact and speculation, offering a faithful and unbiased effort to understand exactly what took place. This recording is not done for its own sake, however, as our interest in Izbet Bushra lies ultimately in social reconciliation between the two parties. In this hope the paper concludes with suggestions for each religious community in order to seek for a solution to restore village harmony. These proposals are offered humbly, and we await the right opportunity in which we might engage village leaders to encourage them toward dialogue and reconciliation.

Click here to read the full paper.

Categories
Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles Reconciliation

Social Reconciliation

The end of February was a very hectic time for us. The peacemaking project I have written about here from time to time was coming to and end and all reports were to be submitted by the 28th. (If only it was a Leap Year!) While many reports were done, several still required editing, and everything had to be put online. In the end we made it, and you can see the results at www.enawu.com, if you click on the ZIVIC-Conflict Resolution tag on the left hand column.

In the meanwhile, I thought it would be interesting to share the lessons we learned with everyone. Not only will this give a good picture about what we have done in Egypt since arrival, it will also give a thorough introduction into conflict in Egypt, of which a fair proportion is religiously based. In this spirit we will try over the next few weeks to provide the most interesting reports, and where applicable, give you the link to the full paper which was written. For faithful followers of Julie’s posts, don’t worry, we will intersperse these as well.

Today will begin this effort, and the text which follows is the abstract of the comprehensive paper summarizing our experiences over the last six months. The full paper length is about forty pages, so take care to download it when you have a moment to spare, or else save it for future reading, say, your summer vacation at the beach. For those interested, it will be a one way mind meld between me and you, as I tried to include almost everything I have learned since arrival in Egypt. I hope you enjoy; your comments are welcome.

In all nations of the world, conflict is normal, and Egypt is no exception. Violent conflict in Egypt, however, is not. Though the Egyptian population has always been a peaceful people, many are noticing the increasing violence exhibited throughout society, much of which is along religious lines. There is a growing religiosity that imbues both Muslims and Christians with a powerful sense of identity to their community of faith. While only in the rarest of cases does this push either group towards violence, it does contribute to an unfortunate culture of sectarian analysis, which interprets these events along religious lines. This tends often to deepen the sense of religious division, cultivating further cyclical patterns of aggression, sometime passive, against the other, be it physical in outright attack, or psychological, in accusations of disloyalty or persecution. Reporting styles of the media, with all its variety, generally tends to fuel this established pattern by either labeling an incident a sectarian event or else denying the religious dimension completely. Balanced and objective journalism disappears in the process.

This paper recognizes that these are the witnessed features of conflict in Egypt, but many other factors lie beneath the surface. Underreported are the population pressures and economic difficulties which push normal disputes over resource allocation past the threshold of traditional resolution mechanisms into the pursuit of violence. One of these traditional mechanisms is the ‘reconciliation session’, which in principle restores community harmony but in practice often complicates the situation. Whether in land registration, church building policy, or an overwhelmed judiciary the law of government is applied weakly in many parts of Egypt. This tends to an overreliance upon ‘reconciliation sessions’, which are often conducted with a lack of transparency mirroring other aspects of the state. Security practices, though naturally present following an outbreak of violence, are but another example. Any mistakes made or weaknesses perceived are denied, and these therefore un-admitted factors combine with underreported demographic changes to produce the painfully visible instances of violence which torment the Egyptian consciousness.

This paper explores these issues in more depth, but also seeks a way out. Using Johan Galtung’s methodology of conflict resolution following medical practice of diagnosis, prognosis, and therapy, this peacemaking project suggests better practices. The diagnosis is explained above. Prognosis involves proscribing corrective changes to the major sections of Egyptian society: Government, Church, Local Leadership, the Media, and Non-Governmental Organizations. Therapy then posits a procedure to lead into social reconciliation following conflict. First, root causes and contextual studies must be determined and addressed. Second, community leaders from all sectors must be identified and supplied with information. Third, these are then encouraged into dialogue through a mediator who both knows the area and is accepted therein. Fourth, pending these discussions to be focused on just negotiation and relational unity, supportive projects can be considered to assist in community reintegration. It is hoped that this will be a predominantly Egyptian initiative, for local problems demand local solutions. Yet the eyes of outsiders, Cairene or otherwise, may be helpful.

This paper is submitted for review by all, but a selected number of advisors have written their critique and added their observations. These are also presented for further evaluation, and the reader is welcomed to offer both constructive criticism and proposals. For such an endeavor a network is necessary; to the degree you are willing we invite you to join.

Click here for the full paper.

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Personal

Rain, Rain, Go Away

The other day it rained in Cairo.  While this might not seem strange to you, rain in Cairo is not a common occurrence.  I would estimate that we have had some rain about five times in the six months that we’ve been here.  And that has mostly been light showers once or twice throughout a particular day.  So, when I go out in the morning, I sometimes will go on our balcony to check the temperature and see if we need jackets or not, but the idea of it raining never crosses my mind.

The day it rained, I didn’t even check the temperature, so I took the girls downstairs in the double stroller, on the way to Emma’s preschool, and was surprised to see the wet ground and smell the rain.  It wasn’t raining too hard, and because of the stroller canopies, I was the only one who would really get wet, so I didn’t want to change plans for the morning and take a taxi.  I figured that’s it is Cairo anyway, and we certainly wouldn’t have too much rain.  I was surprised that I did get wet on the way to preschool, but it had mostly slowed down by the time we got there. 

Hannah and I dropped Emma off, and then went to run some errands.  First we were going to drop some things off at an American friend’s house where we visited for about an hour as Hannah played with their little boy.  I noticed at one point as I looked out the window that it was raining quite hard, and I hoped it would stop because I had some errands I really wanted to run that morning.

By the time we left our friend’s house, it had slowed quite a bit, so we went to the grocery store and then to the post office and finally to a local restaurant to pick up a container of hummus.  I put Hannah’s shade back at the restaurant so I could keep my eye on her while I picked up the hummus, but then went and put it back down when I noticed she was getting rained on.  Fortunately this was our last stop and we got back home before getting too wet.

When we went out later to pick Emma up, I decided to take a taxi since this time I knew the rain was a problem.  We taxied there and back, but did notice the sun was shining and the clouds were clearing by this time.  It seemed simply to be another typical, though infrequent, rainy day for Cairo.  Jayson came home for lunch a short while later and said it was very nice out.  This encouraged me to put out some of the laundry I had kept inside earlier because of the rain. 

Later that afternoon, after the girls woke from their naps and I was doing something in the kitchen, I heard a strange noise.  It took me a few minutes to realize that the sound was that of pouring rain!  I quickly remembered the laundry and ran to the balcony to bring it in, but not until after it had caught quite a bit of dirt from the rain.  It also caught a few little hail balls.  Wow, how cool!  When I opened the balcony door and Emma and Hannah heard the sounds, they were quite scared.  It also was thundering and lightning which is something they haven’t heard now for six months.  I know it can be scary for many kids, and ours were no exception.  I was pretty excited since a storm was so rare here, but I also realized that Jayson would be walking home soon and was wondering how he was going to make it home dry!  He returned about half an hour later with a shirt that was wet and dirty from a strong Cairo rain.  Fortunately the thunder and lightning didn’t continue long enough to disturb the girls from going to bed, but the storm did seem to make an internet connection difficult which messed up plans to Skype grandparents.  It probably didn’t help that they were getting a strong snowstorm at the same time we were having our rainstorm.  I wondered what all the rain was going to do to the roads we usually walk around town.  The next day was Friday, first day of our weekend, and the day we usually attend church.  We’d have to see if the way would be walkable.

The next morning I looked out on the balcony and it had stopped raining, but it was chilly, and everything around was wet, including a small lake at the schoolyard across the street.  I knew that trying to walk to church with the stroller would be quite messy and perhaps impossible at some points, and our normal Friday schedule of sitting at their outdoor coffee area while Emma attended Sunday School would not work too well either due to the cold and the wet.  So, we opted to stay in all day.  It made me realize that it’s kind of hard here to find things to go out and do, if the weather is bad.  It’s a good thing the weather isn’t bad too often!  

I did actually get to venture out later that day on my own, as the girls were napping.  I needed to do some shopping in another part of town, and Jayson being home allowed me to get this done without the girls in tow.  I first of all walked a few blocks to board one of the local minibuses to travel to another part of town. I noticed the main street where I like to walk for shopping was basically a lake.  It confirmed that taking a stroller out would have been a bad idea.  We drove through a lot of large puddles on our way to the store and I noticed lots of people out and about.  I remembered that today was the celebration of the ‘Mawlid’ (the Prophet Muhammad’s birthday.)  This isn’t a big holiday among Muslims, and isn’t one they are commanded to observe, but there have been special traditions and foods associated with this day in each of the countries we’ve lived in.  I felt bad that the weather may have hindered some of the visiting or celebrations for some on this day, but did notice that some of the amusement rides that people put up for these holidays were still in use.  We passed one section of town where there was a temporary carousel and two large swings for the kids to enjoy for the day.  I am guessing that each child would have had to pay one or two guinea (18-36 cents) for a few minutes on the ride.  The rain didn’t stop them from this fun.

I went out again the next day, and the big puddles had evaporated a bit.  It was still very messy to walk from our house to the main street as the water combined with the dirt and grime of the street to make for a very messy path.  But brave it we did and all in all, we didn’t get too wet.  It looked like things would be close to normal by Sunday, in time for us to begin another work week and return to Emma’s preschool.  It was weird to have so much rain in one day, and it affected our whole weekend.  Hopefully it at least cleaned the air a bit and watered the land.

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Books Personal

Life as Politics

Not too long ago Prof. Asef Bayat, presented a lecture at the American University of Cairo on the topic “Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle East”, taken from his recently published book of the same name. Prof. Bayat is a professor of sociology and Middle Eastern studies and holds the Chair of Society and Culture of the Modern Middle East at Leiden University, the Netherlands. The summary below presents a very interesting look at how Middle Eastern society is evolving, without direction or organization from the powers-that-be, either from inside or outside the region.

Many theorists around the world wonder when change will finally come to the Middle East. They see the monumental political and economic developments in Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia, and look with resignation at the Arab world which seems stagnated in autocracy and conservatism. Likewise, Arab activists themselves find the pace of change too slow, working to implement democracy and civil society but are increasingly frustrated by governments more intent on holding on to power. What spells the correct answer?

A closer consideration would note that much change has already transformed the Middle East. Over the past several decades the phenomena of globalization, Islamization, and urbanization have impacted the region, and historically Arabs have been involved in nationalist movements against colonizing influences. Even so, both regional and international scholars have identified three general positions concerning change.

The first is not widely held to popularly in the Middle East, but there are those who state that if change is to come it must originate from outside the region. Since people are not seen as effectual actors, influences must begin abroad; President Bush’s doctrine of regime change is witnessed here. The second position is that one must wait for change to happen. They hope for, think about, and educate for change, but are limited in what they can actually do to bring it about. After all, revolutions cannot be planned, but what should one do while waiting, especially if some potential outcomes of revolution might be worse than the status quo?

The third position is that of the activists who strive to make change. While social and governmental restrictions exist, there has been much progress on the part of some movements like those of women’s rights and labor unions. Still, progress has been slow overall, which has led many social scientists, though not activists, to look elsewhere in the region for examples of change. Prof. Bayat identifies these in what he calls a ‘non-movement’.

While traditional movements tend to be the activities of leisure, however passionate, of those with at least some social standing, and is a result of a planned activity coordinated with others, a non-movement is fragmented, disperse, and chaotic. Instead, it is the collective representation of individual actions on a massive scale. Specifically, Prof. Bayat highlights three: the urban migration into the cities, the activity of women, and youth identity.

The capital cities of the Middle East are a magnet attracting the rural poor in search of some economic benefit. Their arrival, however, causes disruption of property rights and legitimate commerce as shanty towns are erected and sidewalk shops sell knock-off brands and ignore copyright protection. Yet the numbers are so large that governments are impotent to do anything about it other than small scale intervention, and thus these new émigrés settle into the landscape of the city, prompting the question, who really owns it? They are a threat, to be sure, but they also represent a profound change in the makeup of society, but as a non-movement are traditionally overlooked as agents of change.

Women are more commonly seen as agents of change, but they better qualify as a non-movement alongside more traditional avenues of women’s activism. Yet the pattern of their individual actions dictates that diverse outcomes result from their participation in life. On the one hand the increasing use of a hijab or niqab signals a religious protest against a perceived un-Islamic, authoritarian regime. Yet on the other hand women are increasingly participating in life, even in the mundane activities of going to the bank, mechanic, or university. Over time the increased opportunity for reflection on life outside of domestic isolation causes women to ask the questions of necessity and curiosity – why is my inheritance limited, why are child custody laws in favor of men? Be it seen in increasing religiosity or liberation, these actions are planned by no one, yet have dramatically affected the social relations of Middle Eastern society.

Youth activity is similar. Increasing population rates have created a burgeoning youth demographic which is corralled and controlled through education. Wary of the power of unencumbered youth the government has attempted to co-opt their participation in its favor by celebrating their role in the formation of the state, at the same time using all available resources and pressures to keep them in check. Yet the public space provided in the schools and the universities allows for the congregation and self-consciousness of youth, who in different ways express their identity through dress, hairstyle, and hobby. While kept from a politics of protest, they nonetheless express a politics of presence and practice that has left a distinctive mark on the region, yet because it is not a traditional movement in the manner of engagement often seen in youth, it is generally unobserved.

The distinguishing characteristic of these non-movements is that they reflect the ordinary activity of ordinary people leading an ordinary life. There is no leader, no collaboration, and no grand strategy. As such, an authoritarian government has nothing to fight. The vast co-incidence of common activity overwhelms its ability to respond, and positive change develops from the bottom up. Though an activist would be left unsatisfied with the scope of change, social advancement occurs for the poor, liberation for the woman, and identity for the youth. In a region marked by oppressive and restrictive social controls, these developments are not insignificant.

These observations demonstrate the platitude that there is always a way to express a will for change. The subtitle of the book, however, is a bit misleading. The impression is given that the text will describe activity and thought—how is it possible for ordinary people to change their society? Instead the book is written as sociology—how is change occurring as ordinary people live, without acting or thinking? The study is noteworthy, but not proscriptive. There is much to analyze as one views the region from a bird’s-eye view, but little to communicate to the people of the Middle East. In fact when questioned about how an activist might utilize or mobilize a non-movement on behalf of a cause, Prof. Bayat warned this could undo all progress. Activism would bring the non-movement to the attention of the government, and provide a target for repression. By becoming self-conscious the strength is lost.

Unfortunately, this seems to leave the local actor in the dilemma posed above. Should change be initiated from outside, be waited upon inside, or be created by joint action? Each of these positions comes fraught with danger and difficulty, but the study of non-movements offers no solution. If anything it proposes that the option to wait is the only recourse. While surely Prof. Bayat would not endorse this conclusion, it seems the result for the Middle East is that change happens, but it cannot be made to happen. So while a theoretician may be thankful for more data to study in the process of change in the region, the activist is left unsatisfied. Is this not the natural state for an activist, however, facing the question of how to create change from nothing? Life as politics leaves no room for politics, only sociology. Change occurs for the ordinary person, but the ordinary activist longs for a movement, not a non-movement. He or she must look elsewhere for the answers.

To purchase this book from Amazon, click here: Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle East

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Personal

Remembering the Christmas ‘Martyrs’ of Nag Hamadi

“Don’t cry for me, mother; to a martyr you’ve given birth. Murderers killed your son, on a night of Christmas mirth.”

These lines of poetry were crafted for the fortieth day memorial service held for the six young Egyptian Christians randomly gunned down while exiting a Coptic Christmas Eve mass, January 6, 2010, in Nag Hamadi, three hundred miles south of Cairo. They reflect the worries of the Christian community of Egypt that their situation as citizens, even in terms of safety, is steadily declining.

The particular use of the word ‘martyr’, however, carries a strong implicit message. It is common in Egypt for both Christians and Muslims to use this word for anyone in their community who dies unnaturally, regardless of cause. Beneath this general usage, though, is a Coptic remembrance of the hundreds of martyrs celebrated daily in the liturgy, who suffered death for their Christian faith. The message is given that these young men were killed for their faith in Christ, and this at the hand of a killer alleged to have cried while firing, “I avenge my Muslim sister!”

The vengeance in question refers to an event two months earlier in a nearby village, where a Christian man is alleged to have raped a 12 year old Muslim girl. This is the opinion of Sheikh Ahmad al-Sayih, retired professor of Islamic doctrine and philosophy at Azhar University, who grew up in a village fifteen miles from Nag Hamadi. While he condemns the murder on Islamic grounds, he sees it as part of the culture of revenge killings for which the area is known. In this understanding, shared by many Muslims, the attack was simply an expression of tribal justice, having nothing to do with sectarian strife.

Amin Makram Ebeid, a retired doctor and Coptic intellectual, disagrees. He sees the incident as part of an unorganized but increasing pattern of sectarian violence against the Christians of Egypt. He doubts the account of rape, as well as the status of the girl as a minor. He states that tribal revenge would be executed only against family members, not random worshippers exiting a church on the holiest of Christian holidays. These considerations indicate the sectarian nature of the crime, and in these matters he echoes the opinions of many Copts.

Governor Magdi Ayoub of Qena, in which Nag Hamadi is located, is the only Copt among the twenty-nine governors of Egypt. Instead of being acclaimed by his religious community, however, he is reviled as being subservient to Muslim interests so as to maintain his post. Though he states that he is an Egyptian governor first and a Copt second, many Copts reject him for failing to address Christian concerns in deference to his position in what is seen as an increasingly Islamic state. Viewing religious discrimination as part and parcel of true Islamic religion, more than a few Copts anticipate further violence as a coming inevitability.

A different explanation is offered by Osama al-Ghazoly, a prominent Egyptian journalist. He agrees that violence in Egypt is increasing, but this is true of society in general, independent of sectarian tension, though it is certainly an aspect of it. He criticizes both Muslims who deny that sectarian violence exists at all, as well as Christians who view it only through this lens. Regardless of the origin, it is only the government which can extend protection to any citizen, Christians included. Copts may do well to criticize the governor’s performance, but not his position.

The Egyptian government is treating the attack as a non-sectarian isolated incident and increased its promotion of national unity. Egyptian society, however, remains divided about the causes and necessary responses to the attacks in Nag Hamadi, though all have categorically denounced the violence. Yet as the interpretations of the killing vary so dramatically between the two communities, the religious divide threatens to grow deeper. As the forty day commemoration service is a shared practice of both Muslims and Christians, and given the mingled blood of the young Christians with the Muslim policeman also killed in the attacks, perhaps this occasion may serve as a reminder that peace and the future of Egypt is built upon both religious communities.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

A Departing Third Opens an Unclear Future

Yesterday, March 10, 2010, the Grand Sheikh of al-Azhar died of a heart attack while visiting Saudi Arabia. Sheikh Muhammad Tantawi led the inimitable institution, considered by many if not most Sunni Muslims to be the leading Islamic university in the world, since his appointment by President Mubarak in 1995. Together with President Mubarak and Pope Shenouda of the Coptic Orthodox Church, Sheikh Tantawi presided over a period of considerable change during his tenure, and their lives, each one in their eighties, spanned epochal changes in Egyptian society. As the first of these three elder statesmen has passed on, Egyptians may wonder about the next generation of leadership, and the directions it may take.

During his career Sheikh Tantawi was a lightning rod of criticism from all corners of Egypt, making rulings considered too liberal or too conservative, depending on the source. Among the chief condemnations made of his tenure was that he was compliant more to the will of the state than to the principles of Islamic jurisprudence. Though a religious figure, he was also a political appointee; such remarks had ample target. For Muslims frustrated with an apparent secular regime he was its worst symbol, as he was attached to the heart of Islamic learning in the Arab world, the chief figure expected to uphold the purity of Islam.

A brief litany of his most controversial rulings includes issues straddling the religious/secular/political divisions which characterize Muslim debates today. In terms of women’s issues he fought against the burka, the full body covering opening only with slits for the eyes. He denied the Islamic foundation of the cultural practice of female genital circumcision. He ruled also that Islamic sharia did not forbid a woman president. In terms of the Western debate on terrorism and jihad he ruled that Islamic jihad must only be a defensive measure. He condemned the attacks of September 11, but wavered on suicide bombings against Israeli targets. Yet he also worked tirelessly as a mediator for peace, both in Israel/Palestine and Iraq. He was also a firm defender of equality between Copts and Muslims in Egypt, and enjoyed a warm relationship with Pope Shenouda. In all of these matters he pleased some but not others, but many were left frustrated that he either went too far, or not far enough, in his rulings. His lasting reputation as a political stooge or a man of principle will be debated long after his death, which marks the end of an era in Egyptian history, and the initiation of an unclear future.

Sheikh Muhammad Tantawi was 81 years old. Currently his Christian religious counterpart Pope Shenouda is 86. President Mubarak, meanwhile, is also 81. Pope Shenouda was selected by lot to fill the patriarchal chair of St. Mark upon the passing of Pope Kyrillos in 1971. Sheikh Tantawi was appointed to fill the post of al-Azhar, being promoted from the position of Grand Mufti, upon the passing of Gad al-Haq, who was known as a conservative Islamic figure, and with whom he had clashed several times. President Mubarak, meanwhile, became president upon the assassination of President Sadat in 1981. None of the three obtained their post by the will of the people, yet all have defined the political, Islamic, and Christian positions for the majority of Egyptian citizens. Their influence has been incalculable.

Now, Sheikh Tantawi has passed on. In some respects he is probably the least significant of the three. Regardless of the prestige of al-Azhar in Islamic history in the modern state it has become an extension of government bureaucracy. This does not imply Sheikh Tantawi was not sincere in his rulings. It is simply a statement that Muslim religion in Egypt is tied to political rule, and in the multiplicity of religious interpretations al-Azhar is no longer inviolable for the Muslim faithful.

This is much less so when it comes to the power of the church. Orthodox Christians in Egypt represent 90-95% of Christianity, and the majority of these look to Pope Shenouda, though without infallibility, as the undisputed leader and example of Christian thought and practice. There is no connection to the state; though President Sadat once banished Pope Shenouda to a monastery he could have no role in selecting a replacement. President Mubarak, interestingly, reestablished him to his papal chair. The pope is a towering figure in Egypt; in recognition of his advanced age the church is wary of decisive policy. Pope Shenouda has set the course; it will be continued until he also passes away, and then God will select by lot another leader. The church, quietly, does have divergent voices; only God knows which one will emerge.

Since the wick of Sheikh Tantawi was consumed before that of President Mubarak there is less apprehension concerning the next appointment of Grand Sheikh of al-Azhar. It is anticipated that the president will appoint someone similar, certain not to stray too far from the political perspectives of government. Yet the status of sheikh is not similar to that of pope, though by tradition he maintains the post until his death. As a political appointee it is possible, though unlikely, that the next president may depose the current figure and select his own man. Still, choosing the interpretive head of the Islamic world is not as simple as choosing a minister of agriculture; there will be substantial pressures on the next president to satisfy the demands of every religious interest. The identity of this next president, however, is an open question, perhaps for the first time since the revolution of 1952 introduced military rule to Egypt.

Some observers believe simply that following President Mubarak’s anticipated decision to end his political career—the next elections are in 2011—another general from the military/security sector will be internally selected to continue governance. His presidency will be popularly validated through elections, and the course of Egyptian politics will continue as it has for the past sixty years: Secular in orientation, focused on development, cautious with human rights and freedoms, wary of the power of religion.

This prediction bears a substantial wildcard, however, which has not yet featured in the modern Egyptian state. President Mubarak has a son who is acclaimed by some as a potential successor. Gamal Mubarak, however, is not a military man. While he may (this is debated) enjoy the backing of his father, he is less likely to garnish the behind the scenes support of the military elite. Furthermore, while many Egyptians appreciate the stability of the Mubarak presidency, they are reluctant to witness the instillation of his son, reducing the status of the republic to that of the nepotistic Pharaohs.

One final possibility is that true democracy does emerge, but with what result? While political Islamist interests do not represent a majority of the population they are adept at the political game of campaigning and elections. If allowed to participate they may ride the religious slogan of ‘Islam is the Solution’ into the presidential palace on the backs of a populace frustrated by lack of the secular regime’s advancement of freedom and economy. Or, there are other candidates outside the traditional government sector which command wide respect, but are criticized as candidates for lack of political acumen. The former head of the United Nations nuclear watchdog agency and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, Muhammad al-Baradi, is one such gentleman. Though he is understandably reluctant to throw his hat into the ring, he represents the hope of many Egyptians longing for civilian, democratic governance.

Though it be said that only God chooses the pope, space can be granted for the behind the scenes maneuvering of Orthodox bishops. Pope Shenouda has created a church bureaucracy similar to that enjoyed by the state by dividing growing bishoprics and appointing bishops loyal to his philosophy of Christianity. The Holy Synod comprises these bishops in their entirety, and with the General Lay Council of the Church is tasked with election of three candidates according to church tradition, which can be variable. Among these three, then, God makes the selection, through a blindfolded child who draws the lot.

Sheikh Muhammad Tantawi’s life spanned the rule of three kings, three presidents, and both war and peace with Israel. He witnessed the transformation of the country from a British colony with Turkish vestiges into a modern bureaucratic state. His passing signals the beginning of an era of change for Egypt, though the direction is yet uncertain. Not until Pope Shenouda and President Mubarak – may God preserve their lives – join him in the world beyond will this direction fully come to light. May their successors receive God’s wisdom for the substantial challenges each will face in filling the shoes of such monumental personalities.

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Personal

The Problem of Dialect – Part Two

The strange thing about different language dialects is that the most basic words you use everyday differ from country to country.  I remember Jayson telling me this after his experience in Mauritania.  He would say, “The words for bread, water, and house are different in the Mauritanian dialect than in other dialects, but the deeper you go in the language, the more similarities you find.”

Here is a case in point.  In Jordan, we studied Arabic in a language school.  This was great in so many ways, one of them being that the teachers taught us all the basic greetings we needed to know.  So we probably learned within the first week how to say, “How are you,” which in that dialect was “Keef hallak?”

Fast forward to Tunisia, where we didn’t study in a language school, but tried to pick up their dialect on the street and in our everyday interactions.  It took quite awhile, and one of the most basic things troubled me for some time.  After someone greeted me, they would often ask me, “Faynik?” which literally means, “Where are you?”  At first I would answer them, probably with a confused look on my face, “I am here.”

Or if we were talking on the phone, I would say in my confused tone, “I’m at home,” or, “I’m out shopping,” or whatever.  It wasn’t always an inappropriate question.  I mean, if I was supposed to meet them, and they were calling me, they could ask me where I was so they knew when to expect me.  But when I went to visit my friend in her store and her first question was, “Where are you?” it was really weird.  It took a little while to realize that this was their way of saying, “How are you?”

Don’t ask me why they chose those words, people usually don’t choose the words of their greeting, they are simply taught from generation to generation, but somewhere it must make sense.  I wonder how many of my friends were confused, however, when I supplied them with my location.  Even after I realized what this really meant, it still took some forethought to not answer their question, but rather say, “Good, thank you.”

The experience changed again in Egypt.  Again, they don’t use the typical, “How are you?” that we learned in Jordan, and most of the time, they don’t even use the word we expected to hear here which is “Zayyik?”  Instead, they say, “Aamila aye?” which means “What are you doing?”  It took me right back to Tunisia.

Before I realized that this was their way of saying, “How are you?” I would answer them with what I was doing, which again, was usually an odd, confused answer, “Well, I am coming to visit you.”  Or, “I am coming here, to church.”  Of course, my thought was, “What do you mean, what am I doing?  Isn’t it obvious?”  Probably thanks to my experience in Tunisia, I caught on more quickly, and realized this was their way of greeting, and that it could probably be equated to our equally incongruous “What’s up?” in English.  Oh, the joys of learning the language on the street!

Another word that has been tripping me up some is the word for “Today.”  A most basic word, to be sure, and one that I should know well if I say I can speak the language.  Probably half the time, however, I use the word I learned in Jordan, “il-yawm.”  I was thinking through this word the other day and realized that in the three countries we’ve been in, Jordan is the only one that makes sense.  Here’s what I mean.

In Jordan, the word “il-yawm” is used for “Today.”  Following this the days of the week each have a name along with the word “yawm” in it.  One of the neat things about the days of the week in Arabic is that they are kind of forms of the numbers 1-7, so it is fairly easy to pick up, or at least logical.  So, for instance Sunday would be “yawm il-ahad,” which is kind of like “the first day”.

Well, moving onto Tunisia, they use the same word for today, which is probably one of the reasons I am having a hard time switching it now.  However, when they speak of the days of the week, they use a different word in place of “yawm,” and that is “nahhar,” which also means daytime or morning.  So, Sunday would be “nahhar il-ahad” or “the first morning”.  It was tricky to learn that at first, but we got used to it after awhile.

Now in Egypt, I realized that they do the opposite of Tunisia.  For the days of the week, we are back to the Jordanian word, “yawm il-ahad,” but the word “Today” is now “innahhar da” which literally means “this, the morning.”  Now my logical brain looks at Tunisia and Egypt and says that they should kind of switch things up a bit so at least their word for “Today” matches with the word they use in the days of the week, but who am I to criticize the language.  I’ll just keep using the wrong word for awhile until it finally sinks in and becomes habit.  Until then, I think people usually know what I’m saying, but I do think I’ve confused some of the kids at Emma’s preschool.

Since we’re on the topic of time, the last word that I will point out is the word for “Now.”  Again, it is a word I use all the time.  In Jordan it was “halla.”  In Tunisia it was “towwa.”  Now in Egypt it is “dillwaqti.”  Do you see any relationship between those three words?  Me neither, but at least I can see a familiar word in the Egyptian choice which makes it mean literally, “this, the time.”  Oh, the sweet sounds of Arabic … if only it wasn’t so confusing!

 

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Books

Launching “Books” with Libyan Poetry

If you look to the column on the right hand side of this page you will notice a new link – “Books” – which looks to chronicle what we read. A few times in this blog we have been able to write a book review of recent reading which has aided in understanding Egyptian society. Other times we have referenced a book which we have not read, but perhaps have interviewed the author or just remembered its general usefulness. The “Books” link is an effort to congregate all this information in one place, so that you can read along with us, if you care to.

The lead item in “Books” is not of this nature, however, but rather focuses on books we have had a hand in producing. Before moving to Egypt we lived in Tunisia, where among other activities I worked with a local author and publisher to translate books from Arabic into English. The first of these has come to print, which, oddly enough, is a selection of poetry from a Libyan author, entitled “The Journey of the Blind”.

I enjoyed making the translation, and though it might seem counterintuitive, translating poetry was actually a little easier than translating prose. This might not be true with classical poetry, but this author uses a modern style, which left me free to arrange meanings keeping with his style, but without the burden of having to worry about meter or rhyme.

Below is a selection from his works, selected because it is my favorite, dealing with issues of travel, home, and belonging.

MY GRANDFATHER’S TESTAMENT

[1]

I saw in the road

My old horse

Which my grandfather gave to me

Before he died,

And after he informed me

Of the dangers of travel,

Of night, of beautiful women, and of sailing,

And after he informed me

Of the dangers of the road, and thieves.

Do not let the beautiful women

Steal your little heart in the morning.

The road is before you, my dear little boy,

The road is before you,

He informed me and then closed his eyes.

[2]

In the early morning

I saw him praying,

In the paths of my homesickness,

In the forest of names and languages,

In the very cells of my body.

And I heard him say:

The best of all homelands is my home,

And the most beautiful of seas.

You see it in the sand,

In the high palm tree,

And in the mirage.

My grandfather told me

In the language of the elderly:

Do not go away,

For the people on the other side of our sea

Walk towards a distant gloom.

Do not go away, do not go away.

Beware!

Beware of the distance of the road.

Of this he informed me

               Before he fell asleep,

                           Before he fell

                                           Asleep.

Benghazi 1968

You can see an image of the book by clicking here: Cover – Journey of the Blind

The collection is available for purchase; my parents have been kind enough to agree to mail a copy to anyone interested. Full information is found under the “Books: Translations” link. Other titles referenced there can be purchased through Amazon, which if bought through this site provides us with a small percentage of the price. Not enough to persuade you not to borrow the book from the library, but on the off chance a summary catches your fancy and you would like to see the binding on your bookshelf, if you are kind enough to consider us, we appreciate it. Thanks.

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Personal

Coloring Theology

What do you notice in this picture? Try to identify subtle messages before you read on.

This picture was a product of craft time in our home. Julie distributed several coloring sheets printed from the internet, and Emma and I were taking daughter-daddy time sitting at the dinner table applying color to white spaces. Emma’s work, seen on the margins of the picture, was added during a previous session, while daddy can limit the usefulness of this togetherness by getting caught up in the artwork. In any case, I hope you like it.

While Emma and Hannah’s artwork gets hung on the wall, my occasional contributions usually just linger around. There is no need to add it to their gallery, but there is something that says you just can’t toss creativity into the garbage. Since our table has more space than the four of us need for meals, the picture sat quietly at the other end, always within my eyeshot.

One day I noticed something interesting that may never have dawned on me if not for time in the Orthodox Church. Icons hang from all corners of the sanctuary; pictures are painted in almost all available spaces, even the ceiling. One dominant image is of the theotokos, Mary, the mother of God.

She is a majestic, towering figure, holding the baby Jesus in her bosom. Like Mary, Jesus is upright; though an infant he is ruling the world from his mother’s lap. Despite her prominence, the theotokos is still a secondary image. The central icon behind the altar is of a risen Jesus, the pantocrator, the ruler of all.

Mary maintains her high place, however, in the esteem of the Orthodox Church. One of the central prayers during mass has the congregation in chant with the priest:

Through the intercession of the Mother of God, Saint Mary,

O Lord grant us the forgiveness of our sins.

We worship You, O Christ,

With Your good Father and the Holy Spirit,

For You have come and saved us.

The mercy of peace, the sacrifice of praise.  

Such devotion of Mary is of common knowledge to Western audiences through the Catholic Church as well. Protestant reaction is also familiar to most. Believing that an individual has direct access to God through Jesus, the Protestant wonders why such intercession is necessary. As such, the role and prominence of Mary is significantly decreased. Consider, therefore, the message of the picture.

Imagining, though not knowing, this internet coloring picture was designed by Protestants, notice first the folded hands of Mary. This was the image which first captured my attention. Her hands are folded in prayer to the baby Jesus. In stark contrast to the proud figure of Mary carrying the divine child, this humble figure emphasizes her subjection. In addition, she is drawn in equal proportion to Joseph, again marginalizing her importance. Furthermore, though both are kneeling, Joseph’s hands are not folded. It is the prayers of Mary that are emphasized. The message is subtle, but pictures communicate. The artist is directly imbuing the coloring child with Protestant theology.

I have sought to write this post so far without a coloring theology of my own. Of Protestant heritage, I maintain the question for Orthodox audiences: Why are these intercessions necessary? I understand and appreciate the overarching idea of the communion of the saints. The Orthodox challenge their Protestant brothers with irrefutable logic: If you ask your living sister to pray to God for whatever issue you are facing, why would you refrain from asking your ever-living sister, Mary, in heaven?

The theology of prayer is difficult in any case, intercessions or not. Why does God sometimes answer prayer, and sometimes seemingly ignore the pure petitions of his faithful? Answers are numerous, and I will not go into them here. Yet whatever answer is given to address one part of the equation always seems to violate a different scriptural precept. Prayer, if analyzed, can be very frustrating.

This, though, is where the Protestant undoes the Orthodox rebuttal. Perhaps this is a mark of American Protestantism, but most people I know who ask others to join them in prayer are not requesting intercession as much as they are asking for them to share in their suffering. The thought is not that if you also pray for me then perhaps God will now grant my request, as if it were a matter of addition. It is the natural human inclination to seek out support in time of need. Of course, since we do not know the mind of God, the prayers offered could not hurt. Depending on how great the need, perhaps the supplicant is indeed keeping count. God, answer me.

Prayer is one of the deepest expressions of human existence. The disciplined, regular prayers that we conduct with our children before meals and bedtime are pale comparisons. So also are our efforts to teach them to pray to God in their time of need, most recently expressed during occasional nightmares.

When Emma truly wakes with a nightmare it is obvious. She cries out and needs immediate consolation. Whoever put her to bed that night will go in and comfort, and then pray with her. Emma has learned this lesson, though, and will sometimes call out just fifteen minutes after going to bed, that she “had a bad dream about a rabbit.” Or, a bear, or cat, or sharks, etc. Our patience wears thin, and we will call from the door, “Did you pray to God about it?”

Clearly, our concern is more for our quiet than her relationship with God. Though the concept is good, we make a mockery of prayer, using it as a tool to wean her dependence off us, not for her spiritual development, but for our few moments of quiet at the end of the day.

What is most interesting is her usual response. “Daddy, I want you to pray to God for me.” Granted, she has heard far more prayers than she has been encouraged to utter, but the question is there: Is the desire for intercession wired into the human soul? If it is, is this positive or negative, a quality to encourage or one from which to mature? The answer may depend partially on the denomination.

Yet even in the Protestant understanding, why should one not seek to share one’s suffering with Mary, or with any other saint? Of course the Protestant cannot conjure this, any more than can be done with a stranger on the street, or perhaps more fittingly, a character from a story. The Biblical figures and the spiritual giants from bygone eras have past from living conscious into the tales of history and the register of heaven. In neither do they impact the Protestant’s daily life, nor enter the circle of relationships. Such a one should not be pressed to do so, for every relationship takes time. Does the lack of feeling toward this cloud of witnesses, however, betray a missing hue of Protestant theology?

On the other hand, if the Protestant has a warm relationship with Jesus, of whom the Bible states specifically intercedes for people before the Father, for what cause is appealing to Mary necessary? Once an Arab Catholic friend remarked, “If you can’t get what you want from someone, who better to go to than his mother!” This is interesting cultural insight as to the strong and continuous relationship an Arab man has with his mother, but contained therein is a point worthy to ask the Catholic/Orthodox: Your theology agrees with the superiority of Jesus and the access of every believer to him; do you indeed have such a relationship, or are you afraid of approaching the throne of grace? If the answer is yes there is no shame; every Protestant trembles as well that a supplication will be rejected. To ask is to risk; it is better to stay silent than to face the possibility of disappointment.

Of course, few of our prayers carry risk. Offers of thanksgiving and requests for well-being are well within our own power to accomplish; asking God’s help is good form, and cements the importance of humility, however feigned in actuality. A true supplication, however, empties the soul. Or, rather, it emerges from a soul which has been emptied. If God is the only answer left, how terrifying it is if he also fails.

This is no different than in any relationship; approaching anyone in weakness strikes at the core of our independence and self-satisfaction. Yet while we loathe our abasement, suffering is stronger in calling out for consolation. Be it for help, or for company, this is the truest of prayers. Jesus promised, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they shall inherit the kingdom of heaven,” and the Hebrew prophet before him, “I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit.” The prayer, it seems, is given a promise.

Ah, but what if it proves untrue? Is this an explanation of the practical side of Catholic/Orthodox appeal to saintly intercession? Is God held innocent if I only ask of Mary? I cannot answer this question, having no inherited reality of this world. If true, however unconscious, it is only parallel to the Protestant gymnastics which explain God’s inaction toward our cries for help. More likely, we fail to answer this question since we have never truly cried; our soul is not yet empty. The gymnastics are a tool to avoid the contrite and lowly spirit necessary to know God’s comfort.

I ask the Catholic/Orthodox for patience, since I am yet unable to enter this world. We both ask patience from the skeptic and secular, who scoffs at this whole conversation. It is hard to understand that which you do not know, and it is hard to know without entering in. Yet the hands of Mary, folded in the picture, illustrate both the dilemma and its solution. Hands clasped together can hold on to nothing else. This is prayer in its truest form. Though each person kneels alone before God, how much more comforting if we are joined by others. May we each so offer ourselves to those around us; may it be we also profit from those who have gone before?

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Personal

Emma’s Saliib

Today Emma showed that she is being affected by peer pressure … but not in a way I expected.  I was sitting with Hannah in the bathroom for awhile, and Emma asked if she could write.  I probably don’t let her play with a pen and paper often enough, but since Hannah was occupied, and therefore wouldn’t see what Emma was doing and want to copy her, I told her she could write for awhile on her own.  She has done this enough to know the basic rules: Only write on the paper, not on books, or toys or walls or yourself, etc., so I didn’t think she needed a reminder.  After about five minutes of no sound coming from Emma, Hannah and I finished in the bathroom, and Emma came to show us her “artwork.”  She had scribbled nicely on the envelope, but I noticed two things about her: 1) she had a pen mark on her face and 2) her left hand was covered by her sleeve.  So, I asked her to show me her hand.  She took it out of her sleeve, and showed me her hand which had a cross-like shape on the topside,

and she explained, “this is my saliib (Arabic word for “cross”) and I want to show the kids at hadaana (Arabic for “preschool”) my saliib on my hand.”  The unspoken words which I added were, “because all of the kids and teachers at hadaana have saliibs on their hands.”  Makes sense.  Poor little Emma is the only one there without a tattoo of a cross on her wrist. 

 I never thought of it before.  I had thought many times, I wonder when the day will come when she comes home begging to get her ears pierced because she’s the ONLY girl without pierced ears in the whole country!  I didn’t anticipate that sending her to the Coptic Church preschool would mean she was the ONLY person there without a cross on her wrist!  You see, many Christians in Egypt tattoo a small cross on the inside of their right wrist to identify themselves as Christians.

It’s a nice symbol which a friend commented on the other day, “I like the idea that no one can take this cross away … they may be able to take the cross off my neck, but can’t remove it from my wrist.”  I’m not sure if there is a general age at which this is done, but the kids in Emma’s class are 3 and 4 years old, so it’s done quite early. 

So, I told Emma that her cross would probably come off her wrist before she returns to hadaana in a few days, especially when she gets a bath.  I told her that the kids at her school had to get a needle to get their crosses so they don’t come off.  She really wanted to show the kids her saliib, though, so I told her that we could give her a new one the morning she goes to hadaana.  Jayson did the honors and she was very excited about showing the kids and teachers her cross on her hand.

I wonder how the kids reacted.  Had they noticed she didn’t have one?  Did they even think about it?  Did they think it strange that she showed them her saliib?  It’s just a natural part of who they are, and they wouldn’t think of showing it off to others; yet perhaps it is a symbol of pride right after they get it done?  There are many things that I don’t know.  I am guessing the teachers understood the peer pressure factor of Emma being the only child without a cross.  I’m not sure we’ll do it for her again, or if she will kind of forget about it, but it was an interesting experience.  I’m not ready for her to get a tattoo at age 3, but I was much happier that she wanted a saliib on her hand than holes in her ears, although I’m sure that will be coming in the near future.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Coptic Participation in Elections

Samir Zaki is an employee of the Egyptian National Bank, but his passion associates him with the Bishopric of Youth under the leadership of Bishop Musa, in which he encourages Coptic Christians to fully participate in society. On January 2, 2010 he was invited to present a lecture at St. Mark Church in Maadi, Cairo on the necessity for Copts to participate in Egyptian elections. For two weeks previous Fr. Ishaq had closed the Friday mass with an invitation to the church to attend this important lecture. He stressed that this was vital to the life of Copts in Egypt, noting the success of Copts abroad in affecting American politics due to their coordinated efforts. Though St. Mark Church boasts a regular attendance of five hundred people, only fifty came to attend the lecture, mostly from the older generation. Perhaps this is enough indication of Coptic neglect of elections, and an apt foreshadowing of what was to come.

Samir began his address discussing religion, asking in reference to the Coptic mass, do we pray for Christians alone or do we pray for the whole world? Everyone nodded in agreement that Coptic prayers implore God’s blessing on all, and Samir followed up by asking rhetorically if it were to be that Muslims were slaughtering other Muslims, would we not pray for them? All agreed that of course they would. The church, he maintains, teaches us that we belong to the communities in which we live, and we are to care for that world in which we find ourselves. Christians, Jesus declares, are the salt of the earth; salt is an agent of preservation. Just as food without salt tastes bad, so this world without Christian participation leaves it lacking. Samir implored the audience to present a good taste to those around them.

Following this introduction he moved into history. Beginning with Muhammad Ali he mentioned the major political figures in modern Egyptian history, celebrating them for their modernizing influences and allowance of Coptic participation in society. Sa’id Pasha allowed Copts to participate in the army and lifted the payment and stigma of jizia (an Islamic tax on non-Muslim peoples) from both Christians and Jews. Later, when the British occupied the country Copts followed the leadership of Muslim leaders Mustafa Kamal and Sa’d Zaghlul in resistance and nationalism. The Wafd party enjoyed wide Coptic membership, and the unity flag of cross and crescent flew over the city streets. During this time Cops occupied influential posts, even as foreign minister and leader of Parliament. It was a golden age, but an age that was brought about as Copts invested themselves in the national cause.

This positive situation continued but then reversed itself over time. The causes may be numerous, but from an era in which 15% of the Parliament was represented by Copts, today there is but one percent. At this point Samir shifted his focus and addressed the audience. He asked how many of the fifty present had voted in the last elections. Only ten people raised their hands.

At the beginning of the presentation Samir distributed a small handout encouraging Copts to register in the upcoming elections. Now he referred to the paper, which also contained instructions on how to complete the form required at the police office. He said a voter registration card is a symbol of citizenship. Copts are proud of their current status as citizens of Egypt, but they neglect this important expression of citizenship.

He continued, however, asking questions which revealed the depth of their neglect. How many people have run for a position on the school board? Four people raised their hands. How many have sought a leadership position in a non-church related NGO? One person raised his hand. How many have run for leadership in their professional union? Zero.

Having exposed their flaws, he sharpened his critique, turning to social participation. He asked how many people have even ten Muslims that they know well, even Muslims with whom they exchange friendly greetings? Perhaps the audience was battered; perhaps the question did not demand an answer. Silence was a sufficient confession.

Applying his point he spoke with pathos to the audience—we complain about our situation, but we have isolated ourselves, and have withdrawn from society. If this situation continues, he assured, in fifteen years there will likely appear a government minister, a preacher, a television announcer, someone who will declare, “Look at these Copts, they stand alone, keeping to themselves. They care nothing for us.” This sentiment, he warned, could become fatal.

He explained further. If you know a Muslim, he assured, he can see you as a friend, or at least a good person. Yet if he does not know you he will not think of you at all, and will likely think nothing of you. Why should he be blamed? He has nothing upon which to build a good opinion.

At this point one in the audience could not take it any longer. He protested, and Samir gave him the microphone. It is not we who have withdrawn, he lamented; it is they who have refused us.

Samir commiserated. There is a fanaticism which exists in society, and it exists even in sectors of the government. Yet at the same time, there is much room for us to participate—areas in which we suffer no hindrances. Even here, however, we are absent.

With this comment one woman countered angrily. In the faculty of medicine in the university certain Christians sought to cooperate together to improve things, especially since many of their members had good relations with the higher authorities. Yet when there were accusations of fraud the authorities ignored them, refusing even to launch an investigation. When we do participate, she argued, we are discriminated against, and our good standing does nothing to help us. Is there any question why there is increasing apathy?

Samir admitted that these incidents occur, but he raised a different issue, this time in the doctors’ union. Copts make up 35% of the membership, while those associated with the Muslim Brotherhood constitute only 6%. Why then did the 6% win? One reason was that many of the 35% did not even bother to vote, reflective of a larger malady in which Copts lack a culture of elections. Each and every member of the 6% was organized, not just in making sure to cast a ballot, but to maneuver behind the scenes with the legal tricks that can swing the outcome if properly manipulated. Copts are ignorant of these methods, largely because they have abandoned politics to others.

By the time he had finished this explanation, many in the audience were clearly murmuring. One spoke out. Why is our attitude negative, he asked? It is because we have tried to participate, but it has been to no avail.

The communal discontent was growing, and Samir’s partner approached to take the microphone. With the new speaker everyone fell silent, and Michael introduced his words with a confession of his comparative youth in view of the audience, but agreement with Samir. Do not be surprised, he counseled, Jesus has promised that we will be persecuted. Yet as we are a minority, we must keep to a positive attitude. We must be the ones who bring the social, or electoral, or union agenda which is superior to that of anyone else. If our plan is better, we will gain influence, respect, and votes, even from Muslims. Who will not support the best ideas for the community at large? Instead, he expressed, we bring nothing.

Samir built upon his words. Look at us, he said, we have the maglis al-milli, the denominational council, and we do not even participate in this! Why do we vote for nothing?

A younger woman advanced to take the microphone. She spoke with understanding of his message, but related that as a young woman she is afraid. Elections sometimes turn violent; it is better simply to stay away.

Samir answered sympathetically. Yes, he agreed, but this is mainly a phenomenon in Upper Egypt; in Cairo we do not face this difficulty.

The protest in the pews became palpable. The woman who spoke earlier of the faculty of medicine spoke again. She personally had gone to vote in an election, and was physically barred from entering. This was not just Cairo, it was Maadi!

Others told similar stories or raised other protests, and Samir tried to answer them all, but he was losing the audience. One person supported him—there are two thousand Copts living in Maadi, and the elections here are always close. If we vote with one mind we will swing the vote to whomever we wish. Another person simply stood and left in protest. Fr. Ishaq advanced to the podium and everyone quieted down. Samir understood the time was soon to end, and delivered his practical message.

The deadline for registration in the upcoming elections is January 31, he explained, and following this there is an election in June, another in October, and then a presidential election next January. Please, he implored, go to the police station and register, but do not go alone. Take your family, your friends, your co-workers with you. Whatever you think about this discussion today, go and register, and make yourself eligible to vote. You can consider what you want to do afterwards.

Fr. Ishaq took the microphone, and thanked Samir for coming. He continued emphasizing the importance of Coptic participation in the society in general, and in the elections in particular. He ended the evening with Samir’s earlier technique: Now with all we have heard, how many of you will go to be registered? Fifteen raised their hands.

I wondered about Samir’s opinion afterwards. Did this evening represent a victory of five, or a colossal failure? It is a struggle he clearly believes in, but it appears to be an uphill battle. As I left I greeted him, though he was pressed to leave. “May God encourage you,” I spoke in comfort. “It’s ok,” he replied, “I have been at this now for fifteen years.”

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Personal

A Seven Minute Walk to Work

We have been blessed in our location here in Maadi, Cairo, in that my office is located walking distance from our home. Seven minutes walking distance, to be precise. Since working hours can be somewhat flexible, this means that most days I am able to come home for lunch, then return to work for the afternoon. This makes four jaunts every day, equaling nearly half an hour. Not a bad exercise routine.

We don’t know if this arrangement will last forever. Our oldest daughter is three years old, meaning that we are already considering schooling options, many of which are outside of Maadi. While it is not a given that we would live in the same neighborhood as the school, it is our current preference. This would likely mean a twenty to thirty minute metro ride, twice a day, not nearly as good for exercise or for lunch options.

The other consideration is that we do stay in Maadi, but in another apartment. The one we are renting currently is furnished, which was our choice for year one in Egypt but more expensive long term. There are many nice parts of Maadi, but while some might be even closer to work, others might mean my exercise program increases to twenty or thirty minute stretches. Possible lunch complications are here as well.

Do you get the idea I enjoy lunch? Being able to be home in the middle of the day also gives us the advantage of having our big meal earlier, allowing for bread, cheese, fruit, vegetables, yoghurt, and hummus to serve as dinner on most nights. It is a nice privilege to arrange the day in this way, but may be threatened by a future move.

Anyway, the point of this post is to allow you a look into my daily commute. I have provided narration for the various landmarks I pass, which for me is by now normal, but gives a good picture of a typical Maadi neighborhood. Maadi is not at all a typical Egyptian neighborhood, however; please notice the greenery you will encounter is rare for the concrete jungle of Cairo.

One final note: Apologies for the final scene – I forgot in filming that I had just utilized the zoom lens.

Please click here to enjoy the YouTube video.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

A Coptic Demonstration

Two days ago the Coptic community of Egypt witnessed a unique event. On Sunday, February 14, Valentine’s Day, a rally was organized downtown by over two hundred Coptic participants in protest over the Nag Hamadi killings on Christmas Eve and the subsequent handling of the case by the government. Here below is an email which described the event with illuminating pictures (the text is from the email except for translations):

(translation: Shame on Egypt for what is happening to Egyptian Copts)

 

Pictures .. 200 Christians demonstrated in Tahrir Square

Sunday, February 14th, 2010 – 17:43 

 More than 200 Christians today in Tahrir Square, led by the Liberal Party of Egypt and the Copts of Egypt and the Center for a million of human rights, and demanded an end to attacks on the Copts.
The demonstrators chanted slogans against Abd al-Rahim al-Ghoul, MP and accused of being behind the crime of Nag Hammadi.For his part, he said Hani Jazeeri Chairman of the Movement “Copts of Egypt to” go to the People‘s note was provided by Dr. Fathi Sorour, Speaker of the People, calling for the adoption of discussion of the bill Uniform Building places of worship in the current session and cancel meetings of peace and the rule of martial law and bring the perpetrators to the actual trials fair and accountability form of political and public leaders and security events in the Nag Hammadi and other sectarian incidents.

   

(translation: The traditional reconciliation sessions govern us with a rule of iron)

(translation: The Million Center for Human Rights – No to violence among the children of one homeland… No to forcing the Copts to vacate their homes… No to traditional reconciliation sessions…)

(translation: Shame on all of Egypt for what is happening to Egyptian Copts)

(translation of the black sign with white letters in the previous pictures: No to pressures from security)


  

There are many factors here which need brief explanation. Notice first the tattoos on this man’s arm, and in other pictures. Nearly all Copts tattoo a simple cross on their right wrist or hand, but this man’s tattoo is very elaborate, with also a picture of a Christian saint. It is expressive of a deep identity allegiance to Coptic Christianity.

MP Abd al-Rahim al-Ghul is a local politician in Nag Hamadi which was not supported in the previous election cycle by the bishop, resulting in the Christian vote going to his opponent who then won the election. Furthermore, after he denied any relationship with the alleged killer who gunned down the Christians exiting the church, a photo surfaced in which he was pictured standing side-by-side with him. It is important to note that the investigations continue but the trial of the alleged killer has not yet begun.

Reconciliation sessions are a traditional way of adjudicating disputes outside the rule of the law. While innocent in and of themselves, many Copts feel that previous incidents like Nag Hamadi have been ‘solved’ through these ‘reconciliation’ sessions which have been forced upon them by the security forces. In many cases though compensation has been paid by the government to victims the criminals who attacked Christian homes or churches have gone free. In defense of the government it is often difficult to establish guilt in a mass action, and therefore criminal proceedings are difficult.

The uniform bill for building houses of worship is a legislative proposal to stipulate the same regulations and freedoms for both mosque and church construction. Currently, while there is great freedom and simple regulations for building a mosque, it requires the permission of the governor to build, expand, or repair a church. Human rights activists of both religions have called for this bill, and a recent survey by Watani International, a Christian owned daily newspaper, declares that 60% of MPs support the bill as currently drafted, while a further 29% support it with some reservations. Nevertheless, the issue has stalled, and in light of the Nag Hamadi incidents the government has promised to revisit the bill in next year’s legislative session.

Focusing on the demonstration itself, however, there are interesting points to note. Official permits for demonstrations are rare given in Egypt, though demonstrations can begin and have an effect without quick putdown by the government. As is seen in the pictures the police are standing guard, but obviously not breaking up the proceedings. It is unknown, though unlikely, that permission for this demonstration was received beforehand, but prior warning may have been given to secure a police presence, or else security became aware through monitoring the public online organizational activity. Later information revealed that the demonstration proceeded from Tahrir (Liberation) Square, which is the center of downtown Cairo, to the nearby Parliament building, but upon the movement of the demonstration the crowd was dispersed by the authorities.

Arabs outside of Egypt have remarked about the substantially greater freedom enjoyed here than in other nations of the region. As such, as a political event, does this rally speak well of Egypt? Obviously, it is protesting the conduct of the government in the handling of the Nag Hamadi case, but in allowing the at least temporary gathering does this indicate a growing allowance for freedom of expression?

At the same time, it is noteworthy that only three newspapers covered this event. While this could be understandable by the government newspapers this is odd for the party press and independent dailies. These often carry a moderated anti-government message in the selection and presentation of the news. Why would this event not receive their attention?

This question is more significant given the unprecedented nature of the demonstration. While the Western reader is likely accustomed to every interest group holding protests here and there, not only is such demonstration rare in Egypt in general, it is almost unheard of among the Christians. The demonstrations which do occur are almost exclusively held on church property. Expatriate Copts in America, Europe, and Australia often hold demonstrations abroad, seeking to pressure the governments of their adopted countries to pressure the Egyptian government in turn. In general these efforts are not appreciated by Coptic Orthodox Church leadership, which seeks to cultivate a positive relationship with the government, which is very critical of outside interference in its affairs. Nevertheless, individual Copts often look with longing at the freedom enjoyed by their oversees compatriots, and revel in the criticism leveled at a government which is increasing viewed as being ‘Islamic’ or at least discriminatory against Christian interests. For the first time, it seems, Christians in Egypt have adopted these methods locally.

It is an open question to consider if this is a positive or negative development for local Christians. On the one hand, they are taking an active role in the political process, carefully navigating the uncertain allowance of the government to publicly air their complaints. By all indications the demonstration was peaceful. Furthermore, it is an internal and not international response. The protest was joined by local human rights organizations and organized by an opposition political party. The demonstration reveals a growing sphere of civil society participation to be enjoyed by many, if not all, and Christians are among those benefiting. This appears to be a positive development for both Egypt and its Christian community.

On the other hand, is this the best method for airing Christian grievances? In all indications the activity was political; should this be the domain of church-related issues? Furthermore, though the demonstration was peaceful, it was not full of peace. Notice the faces and postures of the demonstrators. These are angry and confrontational, and the slogans are provocative, anti-government in implication if not in direct formulation. Is this proper Christian behavior?

The Christian is here faced with his dual identity as members both of a state, in which he or she enjoys the common rights of citizens, and members of a religion, in which he or she is called to high standards of conduct in preference to the interests of others over his own, and is chiefly called to represent God and Jesus over earthly concerns. While it is good and beneficial, most Christians agree, for Christians to participate actively in the affairs of this world, most Christians also agree the manner of this participation must be regulated by the teachings of Jesus and other Scriptures.

It is difficult to imagine a public demonstration of protest which does not protest, or an angry litany of complaint which is not angry. This demonstration straddles the line between the rights of a citizen and the responsibilities of a Christian. It is difficult to know the balance. It is a negotiation Egyptian Christians have been involved in for some time, but now face a new field of application; may God give them grace. Concerns of the government and the Muslim majority also play a substantial role in their choices; no activity is conducted in a vacuum. These choices will provoke reactions and consequences which could go in any number of directions. Wisdom is called for, with prayerful consideration. Or, perhaps there has been too much prayer already – now is the time to act!

Biblical examples are multifaceted. Christians can find examples of prayerful resignation to circumstances, pious submission to government, astute political maneuvering, decisive claiming of rights, and zealous upheaval of the status quo. Which, if any, of these options is best for the Christians of Egypt? Which is best for the nation as a whole? Who should make this decision? Can various groups answer the question differently? What are the consequences of each? What are the potential benefits? Which best cements the rights of citizens? Which best testifies to the love of God?

May God grant Egypt his blessing, and its citizens his wisdom.

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Personal

Finding Church (part three)

In early October we began this blog, and after the opening post our next two entries were about the challenge of finding a local church in which to worship. In part one we described our general attitude toward this process, and in part two we described some of the local options from which to choose. I had imagined at the time that part three would follow shortly thereafter, but as you can tell it is now mid-February, and we have gained almost four months experience from where we were. It is high time for an update.

At the end of part two I previewed that we would describe our thoughts toward the Coptic Orthodox Church, which is the primary church of Egypt. Back then it was to be a philosophical description of the value of discovering a new tradition, one which reached back to the earliest days of Christianity. It was to promote the idea of belonging to the church in its local form, feeding and being fed with a people now our own. It may have mentioned the ideal of each Christian possessing something which would strengthen the neighborhood body, wondering what it could be that they might gain from us. It would have admitted the anticipated difficulties of finding spirituality in liturgy, but been hopeful that this was the pattern among millions, and for centuries, so why should we not also find our way?

This is what I would have written; I might yet still. In the previous four months we have had confirmed the troubles described in part two in worshipping late night with the Evangelicals, as we prefer to put our girls to bed early. We have gone several times to stay only for the worship, which has been enjoyable, but has been short of church. At night, however, at the end of a long working day (Sunday), it has been very easy to let this experiment slip.

In the previous four months I have also joined a Coptic Orthodox Bible Institute which—this class at least—is focused on how to extend Christian belonging to those on the fringes of the church. I wrote about a recent conference with this group here. This has been a very good experience for rubbing shoulders with real, believing Orthodox Christians of Egypt. While I do not learn as much about Orthodoxy as I had hoped, it is invaluable for learning of the things which are important to them. I have been received well, despite a Protestant background—many are often concerned about Protestant inroads into the Orthodox Church—and will speak well of them to you.

Finally, as for introduction, in the previous four months we have been a part of their traditional Friday mass community. While mass itself begins at 7:00am, many people do not show up until much later, and the sermon begins between 8:30 and 9:00. Communion is served around 10:15 and not finished until a few minutes before 11:00 when everyone has been served. Thereafter there are closing prayers and the sprinkling with holy water—a practice I must describe one of these days in its own right. At 11:00 the mass ends, and people exit.

Outside of the mass there is a children’s mass in a separate hall which begins at 8:30, followed by Sunday school at 9:30. This ends also at 11:00, at which point the families come back together, and many cross the street to the church owned villa where drinks and food are available for purchase. As best we can tell this area is open throughout the week, and people hang out all day on Friday.

Our pattern has been to go to church and sit together in the main mass from about 8:30 to the beginning of Sunday school. Emma and Julie tried the children’s mass early on but it was crowded and Emma did not have a very good experience. So I take Hannah on my lap and sit on the men’s side, while Julie takes Emma and sits on the ladies’ side. Actually, we both sit in the balcony which seems to be less divided, but we do stay apart in hope this would be easier for our girls to be still. So far, they have both behaved admirably.

Julie then takes Emma across the street to the villa which houses Emma’s age Sunday school. At times she sits outside with the other mothers, but recently has discovered a ladies’ class in the neighboring room. Meanwhile Hannah and I remain in the mass, after which Hannah enjoys getting down from my lap and sitting in all the chairs, climbing through all the wooden pews. After a little while, during which most of the church empties, we cross the street to rejoin Julie and Emma, who have since bought for all an early lunch. We split falafel sandwiches and French fry sandwiches, and sometimes find other families with which to talk, sometimes not. The same goes for our girls and playing with the other kids. We usually leave around 11:45 or so, and cross back to the church, where we take a few kids books—Arabic and English—from the library, unchain our double stroller, and walk to second Sunday school.

Second Sunday school is at the Evangelical church closer to our home, where Emma enjoys her class and Julie stays around and watches from the side. Quite a few of the Orthodox children also attend the Evangelical Sunday school classes, or, perhaps it is the other way around. In any case, Emma likes both and Julie has been getting to know some of the bi-denominational mothers.

 It has been very educational for me to be part of the mass. I have even enjoyed it. Since I am experiencing everything in Arabic (and Coptic) there is that which makes me concentrate more than if all was in English. It has taken time, but I have become familiar with the patterns of liturgy and the communal prayers, even if I don’t always capture every word. At the same time, with Hannah on my lap there is ample room for distraction, which does not seem to be a problem to those around us. The same program, more or less, is repeated week after week, and has been for two millennia. It does not seem to matter if here or there a baby cries or people rise to leave mid-service. The traditions go on as they always have.

This aspect of the service has been enjoyable, as it also allows me time to daydream. By this I mean spiritually daydream, as I contemplate ancient rituals and contemporary importance. If this is what church was in its earliest days, does this carry forward in establishing legitimacy? Or is this church doomed to increasing irrelevance in favor of a growing worldwide contemporary evangelicalism? Do evangelicals do well or poorly in shaping church so closely to culture? Would Orthodox benefit from adding variety to their worship? Since Orthodox believe the bread and wine are truly Jesus’ body and blood, how does this affect their partaking? Do they truly believe, or are they going through the motions? If that is a poor way to ask, are they repeating ritual with sincerity? When they prostrate themselves before the elements, do they ‘feel’ God? He is, after all, present in all his holiness. What would it be like to feel this? Should I even try? Will it happen one day by itself? Do I believe at all? Is what I am doing worship? Am I just an observer, a sociologist? Does any of this, in them or in me, please God at all?

These are fun questions to consider, even if they are troubling at times. Add these to the icons, the incense, the architecture, and the cymbals, and the time goes very quickly. In moments here and there I have been moved; never have I been bored.

This week, however, was a setback.

One week ago we contacted one of the priests who had previously invited me and my wife to sit down and discuss Orthodoxy. He mentioned that though everyone seeks to speak with him after Friday mass, the Saturday services are less regularly attended, especially the English mass celebrated the first of every month. So we called him to reserve a time, made arrangements for a babysitter to watch the girls, and gave our Saturday morning to this endeavor.

He didn’t show up.

I learned later that he forgot, and asked if we wished to meet with him next week. He didn’t seem particularly disturbed that he forgot, nor was he particularly inviting, though not insincere, in his offer. Of course he did not know the troubles we undertook to meet the first time, but his attitude revealed something that was lingering in the back of our heads during the previous four months. There is little welcome extended in the Egyptian Coptic Orthodox Church.

I can imagine that our presence there in the first place is very odd for people. Maadi, Cairo is full of foreigners, but we are the only ones I can notice in the church. Orthodoxy is not a Western tradition, so this is not unusual, and therefore our attendance is. Nevertheless, in four months almost no one has asked why we are there, or offered to help in understanding the liturgy, or even greeted us as the service ends. There are plenty of admiring stares at our girls, and at the villa people are friendly if we approach them, but it seems most people seem to believe we wish to be left alone. Perhaps they are accustomed to this being the normal Western attitude.

If the reader here senses some frustration, it may not be far off, but that is not the point. One other comment on the setback, however, before I get to it.

Getting up for church has been a fabled difficulty in America for a long time, so there is nothing unique in this anecdote. Nevertheless, it is a little different from the norm, for Sunday church in America follows the chance to sleep in on Saturday following the workweek. Here, Friday church is the next day after the Sunday through Thursday workweek, so after rising early for the boss, a Westerner like myself feels entitled to take a day of rest, but finds instead we have to rise again early, this time for God.

A mistake with the snooze button today led to an extended morning rest, and then a few snoozes more. Before we knew it it was clear that we would be late for the sermon at church. Whereas we don’t strive to get there for the start of mass, it is beneficial to hear a sermon, and all the readings from the Bible take place before the sermon. Afterwards, it is all liturgical preparation for communion.

Having had four months of getting used to the liturgy, and having attended the English liturgy the week before, suddenly all desire to go to church was gone. I have not mentioned yet this post that non-Orthodox are barred from taking communion. I will explain more about this sometime in the future when I learn more, but only baptism at the hands of a priest qualifies one to take part in sharing the body and blood of Jesus. We have known this since the beginning, and have not allowed it to bother us or prevent our efforts to belong. I would rather partake with them, and will explore any opportunities for this, but during the extended communion time Hannah and I simply watch the others move forward to receive.

Therefore, no sermon, known liturgy, and no communion equal little desire. We went anyway, of course, going to church has been an established habit since I can remember. It was again as it has always been, which is both good and bad.

Therein lies the point. It is as it has always been. This is a difficult aspect of Orthodoxy to get used to. As for the lack of a felt welcome, we are measuring this against the hyper-seeker-sensitive American evangelical church. If I say ‘hyper’ here many American readers will immediately nod their heads in agreement, thinking of that flashing lights megachurch that gets all the attention. No, I mean your church. Most churches give instruction to certain people to make certain they approach any noticeable newcomer. They must not be overly friendly, lest they be scared away, but they must feel welcomed, lest they complain afterwards no one talked to them. It is a tightrope walking game the American church has almost mastered.

Furthermore the very idea which informs this blog—a sense of belonging—is nearly established dogma in Western society, and as such in the church as well. We want to feel, to experience, to be loved, to be wanted, and we expect our churches to provide this for us. Of course, we need a top notch children’s program as well, so they can share in all of these ‘needs’. This is written with a touch of critique, but it also is both positive and Biblical. The church is a body, full of relationships.

Before moving on it would also be wise to mention the cynical flip side of this arrangement. People must be welcomed, of course, so that they may with us receive the benefit of salvation, if they do not know it, but then can also grow spiritually through sound teaching and service opportunities. This is true and real. It does not stop the critique, however, that we welcome them in pursuit of church growth, either for the crass but real idea of gaining donations to perpetuate existence, or for the slightly improved but still suspect notion that bigger is better. I know this world well; no one thinks this way, but these concerns are never far from the surface. The practice of religion is rarely far from the practice of capitalism. We fail to consider this mammon at our peril.

I am highlighting these features of American church to provide a stark contrast to the Coptic Orthodox Church. Surely there are negative pictures here as well, which I will share with you as I learn them. For now, however, consider the simple fact of continuity. The church here has existed for two thousand years. It has birthed Christianity in many other countries, started worldwide monastic movements, won an entire nation to the faith, become famed for spectacular miracles, experienced waves of bloody persecution, witnessed numerous theological controversies, given way to a dominant rival faith, lost its ancestral language, descended into dry and lifeless repetition of rituals, and experienced unprecedented spiritual revival. Throughout all this the mass has stayed—so as best I can say at this time—exactly the same.

The church is as it was, and presumably will be. Each and every church is the same. Though one priest may differ in style from another, there is no competition between bodies. Deacons, like priests, are appointed by a regional bishop, and may preside over mass in any church to which they come. Worshippers may go to one church one week and another the next. Mass is the same if it is full of people, or attended by only one or two. Outside the sermon and communion, the priest’s back is turned to the congregation almost the entire time. The presence of any one individual makes no difference at all.

In this description I am focusing on the mass; church in Egypt does appear to have a web of relationships and activity that we have not yet been privy to. Perhaps it would be better to say that Christians of Egypt have this network, which is centered on the church. I plan to write a post about this soon.

The mass, however, is timeless worship. As in the Bible, where the same words have informed Christians for generations, so does the liturgy inform Christian spirituality and definition. I have been looking for a sense of belonging, and somewhat been hoping for a give and take from the church. With all patience I have realized our acceptance may take a long while, as would our own ability to know how to belong. The setback of the last week has made me wonder about this expectation, indicating I have aimed incorrectly. The mass is not set up as a give and take with the church, it is set up only for God. The congregation gives itself in worship; it takes an immaterial blessing. God, presumably, will welcome all who prostrate before him; those who come on their own terms are left to themselves.

We do not know what these thoughts will do for our hope to find church soon. These four months have not been sufficient to decide where our family should worship. It remains a request in our personal prayers; to the extent you wish to join in these we are thankful. Church has been part of our family for a long time, and we desire it to be a foundation of our lives here as well. Where we choose to belong we will strive to give ourselves fully. However informed by American Christian culture we are in this respect, we hope it is still our prostration to God, of whose welcome we desire. May it be with Egyptians of all convictions that we gain a sense of belonging, which is the immaterial blessing we seek from God. We pray this is on his terms, and not our own.

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Personal

An Arabic Pregnancy

Being pregnant in an Arabic-speaking country has allowed me to learn a whole set of vocabulary related to pregnancy and child-bearing.  We probably learned the words for “pregnant” and “to give birth” while in language school, but it wasn’t until I was pregnant that the words really started to sink in and stay with me.  Being pregnant in three different Arabic-speaking countries has also allowed me to learn many different words surrounding pregnancy, and giving birth in two of those countries has and will teach me even more vocabulary.

The word for “pregnant” in Tunisia is different than in Jordan and Egypt.  I’m not sure of its origin or root meaning, but the word is “hibla.”  Now, that word, for whatever reason, also means “fool.”  I never asked a lot about it, and it may not be the exact same word, but to my ears, it sounds the same, and from the tongue of a non-native speaker, it sure can sound the same.  You see, in Arabic, they have two different “h” sounds; one is a heavier sound and the other is more like our English “h.”  I still cannot differentiate the two when I hear them from a native speaker, and I know I don’t do a good job of speaking them differently, so, it is possible that this word, “hibla” is slightly different in pronunciation so that “I’m pregnant” sounds different than “I’m a fool.”  However, I am sure I say the two words exactly alike.  Thankfully, my friends could tell the difference according to context!

In Jordan and Egypt, they use the word “haamil.”  Now, this word makes sense on one hand because it is from the verb, “to carry.”  It literally means one who carries.  Makes sense, right?  The only thing I can’t understand is that it is in the masculine form.  You see, most feminine words in Arabic end with an “a” sound, so that a man who carries something is “haamil” and a woman is “haamla.”  However, the word for a pregnant one is “haamil.”  I did ask about this somewhat in Jordan, I’ll have to do the same here in Egypt and see what explanation I get.

Another interesting word I found in Jordan was the way they would talk about giving birth.  When you asked someone when they were due, you would ask, “When are you going to BRING the baby?”  I always thought that was such an interesting word choice–to bring the baby.  I kind of chuckled every time I would say, “By God’s will, I will BRING the baby in September.”  It’s kind of like, bring it where?  However, when I think about it in English, we usually say we are going to HAVE a baby.  What does that mean exactly?  Sure, after I give birth, I will definitely HAVE a baby, but we usually refer to HAVING a baby as the act of childbirth.  Probably not the most logical word choice either.  I believe that in Egypt they use the more encompassing word of “to give birth.”  This makes sense.  “By God’s will, I will give birth to this baby the end of May.”

This brings up one more confusing point for me.  When I have been telling people I’m pregnant here in Egypt, they usually ask what month I am IN.  I think it is more common in the US to ask what month you are DUE.  So, even after I say which month I am in, I am kind of inclined to include which month I am also due.  However, this has been kind of odd for me, especially this month.  You see, in Egypt, they have two different ways to say what month it is.  They have names for the months, but since they have been different in all three countries, I haven’t quite learned them all yet.  I am kind of learning the names as we go.  It’s easy to remember what “August” is, because that is the month we arrived, and people are always asking us when we arrived.  It’s easy for me to remember “January” because that was the month of Coptic Christmas and I heard people say the date, “January 7th” a lot.  I have not yet learned the word for “May” although I think it resembles our English word a bit, just not exactly sure of its pronunciation.  So, the other way they say the months is by the number of the month.  So, January is “month one,” February is “month two,” and so on.  This means, that right now, I am in my “fifth month” of pregnancy and also due to deliver in “month five.”  In some ways it should be easy to say that, as it’s almost the same thing, but sometimes I think people think I am confused.  Oh well, I am almost to my sixth month, and then it may be easier!

I look forward to the words I will continue to learn here surrounding this happy event and I’m pretty sure I will be writing more about the whole experience of having a baby in Egypt along with all that follows.

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Personal

Coptic Conference, Egyptian Triumph

The two items in the title today bear no relation to one another except for the day. In the end, it was a true Egyptian experience.

This past weekend the class I am with at the Coptic Bible Institute – its actual name is the Institute for Orthodox Doctrine and Spiritual Guidance – had its winter retreat at a former monastery turned conference center in Beni Suef, the first major city to the south of Cairo, about a two hour drive away. Julie and the girls were able to come, as did the families of other students in the class, which made for a nice atmosphere for all. We were put together in a single room in a typical dorm style residence facility, and while I participated in the activities Julie was free to roam around the grounds with the kids, not quite a babysitter, but not exactly comfortable with the hands-off attitude which prevailed. The retreat lasted three days and two nights, and was a nice break from the routine of the city.

The program of the conference focused on communication skills, body language, and the five love languages, which may be known to some readers of this blog as a popular study in many churches. It surprised me somewhat to see it in an Egyptian Orthodox retreat program, but much of American Christianity has come to Egypt through its Protestant churches, and then works its way as well into the greater Orthodox majority. Each day had two lectures and a study group, which I was able to ‘feel’ as normal retreat procedure, but the rest of the activity reminded me I was among those of a different tradition.

We did not necessarily wake early, but the day started with prayer, which was not the common ‘everyone give a request and talk to God’ procedure during Protestant sessions. Instead, we worked through the Orthodox prayer book. Traditionally, and still present in monastic practice, Christians would pray seven times daily. These prayers are scripted, though there seemed to be some variety in the selections. I was more confused than would ordinarily be expected, for instead of breaking for prayer seven times, we combined two prayer sessions into one, ending the day with the single, seventh prayer, and according to a pattern everyone knew except me, intermingled the selections from the two readings.

Within each session there consisted the Lord’s Prayer, the Apostle’s Creed, a ‘Lord have mercy – Kyrie Elasion’ reading, a Psalm, a reading from a Gospel, and general other intercessions. It was all very scriptural, but it was very fast. In part this was because my Arabic reading is still slow, and I was trying to keep up with unfamiliar material, but it also seemed like readers rushed through the selection given them to read. Some seemed like they had memorized the portions, others were less confident, but some read in a sing-song that was very beautiful. We stood standing the whole time, about twenty to thirty minutes, and faced East. I would say that East is the direction of Jesus’ second coming, but that doesn’t sound exactly right, as early Christianity expanded in all directions around Jerusalem, and his return, though to be seen by the whole world, will be, according to his own word, on the Mount of Olives. Nevertheless, within the Orthodox liturgy is a directive to ‘Look to the East’; I will need to ask a bit more to find out why.

 The other activity was also unfamiliar; following the prayer we learned a Coptic hymn. Though most of Coptic Orthodox liturgy is now conducted in Arabic, and has been for centuries, there is a conscious effort on the part of Orthodox Christians to maintain the use of their original tongue. It is only a liturgical language, but its study is mandatory for all priests and monks, though no one speaks it at home and only the learned would be able to follow along except for the known and familiar passages. At the Orthodox church we attend they put the words of the liturgy on a screen; on one side is the Arabic text, on the other is the Coptic language, written in Arabic script.

This hymn was being taught in preparation for the coming Easter fasting session, for it is used only near the end of Lent, if I understood correctly. It contained also an interesting theological twist. The opening lines praise Jesus for his fast, which he undertook for us. I had not heard this notion before. The question of why Jesus chose to fast forty days is a question not really answered definitively in the Bible, but the general answer that I have heard was that it was in preparation for his public ministry, which began immediately after he emerged from the desert. For Protestants who rarely fast, this is seen as a commendable but exceptional event, but one that is designed to draw one especially close to God, and as such, it is understood that Jesus did this for himself.

I am not yet sure of all the formulations, but Orthodox do fast regularly, almost half the year in varying levels of severity, and it has an element of repentance from sin. I may be wrong in this, but if I am not, they do have Biblical warrant. Yet since Jesus had no sin of which to repent, nor need to draw closer to God, the Orthodox may be more pressed in this understanding to figure out why Jesus fasted in the first place. The answer I received, as the hymn celebrates, is that he fasted for us. He undertook his fast to teach us to fast, and in some way, to perfect and complete the fasting required of his followers. Christians are said in the Bible to be ‘in Christ’; as such their lives are mixed with his, and his deeds also become theirs. I was nervous that this made Jesus’ life somewhat of a theater, in which he was playing a role rather than living his life in a real way. The Orthodox believe, of course, that Jesus was both fully human and fully divine, and that during his fast he suffered greatly, as any human would. The motivation, however, seems peculiar. Again, I will have to ask more questions.

Less people were familiar with the hymn than with the prayers, and people seemed less eager to participate in the learning thereof. I thought it was fun in the beginning, but I tired of it as the retreat went on, realizing I was never going to memorize it, and even if I could, would I even recognize it during the few weeks it entered into the liturgy? Perhaps other people felt the same way.

As a note, I have by now memorized some of the more celebrated parts of the liturgy that are repeated every week. It is fun to be able to participate fully during these parts of the service, whereas so much else is still unfamiliar. I keep in the back of my mind, however, the traditional Protestant critique of liturgy. It may well be fine and Biblical, but does the eternal repetition lead to routine monotony? I would like to be inclined to believe it does not have to, but this is an answer I can only discover in time through experience. By the visible participation of many during the mass I can see they are engaged; by the visible participation of many others, there is little indication.

During the retreat, however, mass was the one thing we failed to participate in fully. Justifying ourselves that this was a retreat and thus a good time to catch up on some needed rest, we slept in, resisting the knock at our door which was given to all at around quarter to seven. We did arrive a good half an hour before it ended at 11:00, so who knows what type of credit we received if we were found in attendance following communion. I suppose for full disclosure we should also admit to not participating in the seventh late night prayer, performed at around 10:30pm. We may be striving for a sense of belonging, but we are not yet Egyptians, we need our sleep.

Following Sunday mass and a final group session we were due for lunch and then departure at 3:00pm. This is a key detail, for Sunday was also to be the final of the African Nations Cup. Egypt had defeated hated rival Algeria (see this post, from Julie, and this one, from Jayson) in the semifinal, 4-0, and the country was awash in excitement in advance of the final match against Ghana. In addition, having won the past two African Nation Cups, but missing out on qualification for the upcoming World Cup, this was a chance at national redemption. Our bus was scheduled to leave with plenty of time allotted to return to Cairo before the match began.

Of course, nothing in Egypt goes according to schedule. Lunch was prepared by a classmate’s family who lived in the area. Though delicious, it was an hour late. Then when we had finished, the bus to return had still not arrived. When it came, it was smaller than the one which brought us, causing extra delays in trying to fit everyone and their luggage (we did, somehow). Meanwhile, three of our group had gone into the city for some reason, and needed to be picked up along the way out, except that they were not where they were supposed to be, and we had to search for them. At long last we got on the road, and it was clear we would not make it home in time for the start of the match.

In vain we tried to find the match broadcast on the radio. The best we could do was find a station which gave updates every few minutes, but the frequency was not clear. Fortunately, we were in the first row, so we could hear the time pass with confirmation of the same result, no score. We had no indication of the time elapsed, however, but it seemed likely we could make it home before it ended, and certainly for the overtime which seemed likely.

Then, the bus had an accident. It was no real accident, but there was no reason for it, as best I could tell. We were so close to home and the driver pulled into what seemed like a strip mall. I think he was looking for a shortcut to get over to the main road to take us back to the church, realized he made a mistake, but then backed up into another car. Five or six of the men of our group got out with the driver to investigate, and another lengthy delay ensued. I let things be and stayed in my seat, otherwise I could fill in the details, but I have seen the confrontations that sometimes occur over fender benders, and thought the presence of a foreigner might not help things. In any case, about fifteen minutes later we were on our way again, as there seemed to be no complications from the accident.

During the final approach back to church we saw evidence of the result. People were slowly but increasingly swarming into the streets to celebrate. Those in cars began honking their horns incessantly, including what seemed to be a wedding party in convoy. Children were dancing while waving flags over their heads. Others were shooting off fireworks. Every club or café we passed was emptying. The nation was in euphoria.

We learned in the taxi ride on the way home that Egypt had scored in the final five minutes, and then held off the Ghanaian attack to win 1-0. The next several hours were filled with horn honking throughout the city. Egypt, seven times champion, three in a row. I am glad we attended the Coptic conference, wished we would have been able to watch the match, but at least witnessed the emergence of celebration. We witnessed true Egypt, from the first experience to the last.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Coptic Activist and Upper Egypt Reporting

On December 15-16, 2009, the Center for Arab West Understanding conducted a media workshop in Cairo, inviting representatives from the major newspapers in Egypt, and correspondents came from many of the regional centers as well. The topic of the workshop was “Objective and Balanced Reporting in Controversial Issues”, and was organized due to the perception that journalists will often emphasize the sensationalist aspects to a story rather than simply reporting the facts. One indication of this is witnessed when an ordinary altercation between a Muslim and a Christian is reported as a sectarian incident. It is not uncommon for the rumors then to spread, aided by the media, and a true sectarian incident follows in its wake. Whereas the details of this development must of course be reported in a sectarian light, many journalists neglect the original cause, leaving the nation and watching world in ignorance of the wider context, damaging the reputation of Egypt in general and Muslim – Christian relations in particular. Potentials for reconciliation—a particular focus of our center—are especially difficult in this light. 

Though not a newspaper, one of the more egregious perpetrators of journalistic negligence operates from outside the country. Among the many fair and balanced Copts who live abroad in the United States, Europe, or Australia are a handful of activists who through their websites highlight the worst incidents of what they term “persecution” of the Copts. While certainly there are incidents of targeted attack upon Christians in Egypt, these expatriate Copts leave out the greater context of generally peaceful relations and freedom of worship which characterize the nation as a whole. Instead, they rail against the failures of the government to prevent the atrocities which do occur, and rally their fellow Copts living abroad to protest and demonstrate against the administration. A number of their complaints can be seen as valid, but the tenor of their discourse poisons the national unity, and increasingly even Copts in Egypt access their reports to survey the political and religious landscape. Yet the question must be posed: Operating outside of Egypt, where do such sites get their information?

Enter Nermine Rida into the picture. As we contacted the editorial boards of the major newspapers her name was suggested as a worthy journalist to invite from Upper Egypt, writing for the regional newspaper, ‘The News of Minia’. While this paper has little to no distribution outside of Minia, it is not uncommon for the larger Cairo-based newspapers to work with freelance regional journalists such as Nermine, rather than assume the larger costs of an employed regional staff. In fact according to her and other journalist testimony from our workshop, only one paper – al-Masry al-Youm (the Daily Egyptian, one of the largest independent newspapers) – has employees in Minia on a regular monthly salary. Fortunately, he was able also to attend our training.

While many journalists had interesting stories to tell, Nermine attracted further attention due to her admission that she was a contributor also to Copts United, one of the internet sites described above. Upon further conversation, however, she admitted that she no longer participates with this organization. One of the primary reasons is financial – they do not pay well. On average for articles she submitted for publication as a freelancer for regular Egyptian newspapers she has earned less than a third of that by submitting to Copts United. Furthermore, the monies due her from Copts United were often not paid at all, and when promised required her to travel to Cairo to meet a local representative from whom she could collect her money. 

This admission seemed perplexing, for expatriate Copts are wealthier in general than their Egyptian counterparts. Given that they lack the information necessary on the ground, why would they not pay above the given rate to get the stories they need to fuel their propaganda? Nermine related this was part of their strategy, which was another reason she no longer works with them. In the internet age, anyone can be a reporter. The stories, news feeds, pictures, and video which appear on Copts United, she claims, come from people on the street. These submit their amateur work to the website, and sometimes receive compensation, sometimes not. Their reward is appearing on the website and contributing to the “defense” of the Coptic people. While this in and of itself does not represent a major problem, she claims that Copts United encourages their sources not to report on the wider context of the story or to quote from opposing statements. If they can obtain their information in this manner, why should they pay a seasoned journalist?

The answer to this question is provided by Osama al-Ghazoly, who is a seasoned journalist, writing currently for Rose al-Yusef. He states that unless there are professionals editing these comments taken in the heat of the moment, putting them into proper context, the situation is very dangerous. Context and opposing viewpoints are essential for balanced and accurate reporting. These, however, according to Nermine, are the very things Copts United consciously neglects.

Due to her insistence on keeping to proper journalistic standards Nermine enjoys a good reputation in the area, though with certain Copts her relations are strained. While many Coptic activists will angle their stories to present “persecution” against Christians, Nermine reports that out of fifty shooting incidents in Minia this year, only two were between a Muslim and a Christian. By keeping her stories within this context she can be trusted to report about real incidents, even sectarian ones, when they occur.

 Unfortunately, Nermine relates that the situation for journalists in Upper Egypt can push them into sensationalism. Her main occupation is not as a journalist, but as an elementary school teacher, and though she has a fixed salary, like most in the area, it is not high. Reporting about conflict, especially religious, is not more financially rewarding for the reporter, but can be more rewarding for the editorial boards which want more than simple reporting about ordinary community squabbles. While her freelance activity can add supplementary income, it is her journalistic principles which establish her reputation, which she claims is of greater value than her wage. Yet as stated above, with only two journalists from one newspaper employed in their field on a full-time basis, it is no surprise that reports from the area are characterized by incomplete data, missing sources, personal bias, and clear sensationalism. A lack of professionalism stems from a lack of training, as most newspapers do not invest in the development of their Upper Egyptian human resources. 

While we spoke with many of the other journalists present in our workshop, this conversation with Nermine Rida proved especially valuable. Her perspective on two otherwise little known subjects—the relation of expatriate Coptic activists to Egyptian media and the working conditions of Upper Egyptian journalists—will help us to understand the background obstacles to promoting reconciliation. Though our main task does not seek to confront these maladies, through consideration of the opposing voices our own message can be presented more clearly. Reconciliation depends on, among other things, a clear presentation of the facts and root causes of conflicting interests. Unfortunately, either due to unapologetic bias or insufficient quality control, neither Coptic activist nor Upper Egyptian reporting is known for its clarity.  

To view this report online, please click here.

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Arab West Report Middle East Published Articles

Bishop Marcos on Nag Hamadi

The recent killings in Nag Hamadi have engendered various reactions throughout Egyptian society. Some have cursed the darkness, while others have closed up their eyes and ears altogether. Some, however, have been spurred to action, but sensitivity, distance—geographically and culturally, and ignorance make it terribly difficult to know what to do. We at the Center for Arab West Understanding (CAWU) find ourselves in this third grouping. We have a project designed to encourage peacemaking, and we have a region in Nag Hamadi which is in need of peace. We also possess internal compunction to make a difference, but find these motivations are like the hitting of a head against a wall; what can we do? With fractions of ideas we sought counsel from a trusted advisor, Bishop Marcos of the Coptic Orthodox Church, of the diocese of Shubra al-Khayma.

Bishop Marcos, in addition to providing spiritual leadership for an influential district of Cairo is also the point person for communication activities of the church. He also serves as a board member for CAWU, and has provided us with advice and insight for many years. Our group was composed of Eng. Sawsan Gabra, head of CAWU, Osama al-Ghazoly, and Jayson Casper, and shortly after arrival we welcomed additional parties to our conversation.

Bishop Marcos had informed us by telephone as we sought to gain an audience with him that he was traveling on Sunday to Nag Hamadi with a delegation from the United States and Australia. The news that he was to visit the area was encouraging—we hope that he might provide great service to the church and city—but what was this foreign delegation?

As we began our conversation the facts became clear and Bishop Marcos introduced us to the foreigners in question… (click here to continue)

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Personal

A Tale of Three Refrigerators

Once upon a time there was one refrigerator. 

It was a decent refrigerator.  Big enough for our family’s needs, not brand new, but basically clean.  This was the refrigerator present in our apartment on the day we moved in.  We had seen our apartment originally without much furniture, but the landlord promised to furnish it completely by the time we moved in.  We were certainly glad to have a refrigerator; it seemed important.  There was one problem, however.  While the freezer worked just fine, the refrigerator part did not get very cold.  It wasn’t sufficiently cold for us, and after fiddling with the settings and trying it out for several days, we realized it wasn’t going to work.  The landlord called the refrigerator repairman, who, surprisingly came quite quickly, and confirmed that, even with adding some freon, this refrigerator really couldn’t be helped.  Time for plan B: Refrigerator number 2.

It didn’t take long for the second refrigerator to come.  Turns out it was just next door at the doorman’s place.  This caused a little trouble as he announced when he delivered our refrigerator.  His family had been using it since their refrigerator wasn’t working properly, and now that we needed it, he had to pay a lot of money to get theirs fixed.  He definitely wasn’t happy.  I felt bad for him, and a little guilty.  I knew they didn’t have a lot of money, but at the same time, I just asked the landlord to provide a refrigerator; I didn’t realize it meant taking it from the doorman.  So, he vented to me, but really, it was an issue between the doorman and landlord.  Anyway, he delivered the second refrigerator and right away I was concerned.

It was a little on the small side.  Not big enough for our family’s needs.  I opened it looking for the freezer.  Oh, there it was!

I usually like to make things ahead of time and freeze them, especially here in Egypt where you can’t easily get all the convenience foods.  Where will I put my tortillas?  And what about the off-season fruits and vegetables?  And of course we need space for that occasional box of ice cream!  Needless to say, I wasn’t quite satisfied with this refrigerator.  But what do we do about it?  The first one didn’t work so the landlord replaced it.  And if we ask for yet another one, what will that do?

I forgot to mention that when the doorman brought refrigerator number 2, he didn’t take refrigerator number one out of the kitchen.  He did manage to break the plug off, though, so that when we thought about maybe combining the two refrigerators and using the freezer on the big one, it was further complicated by needing to fix the plug.  The other complication to that plan was space.  The kitchen really couldn’t take two refrigerators.  It was getting tight in there.

Oh well, make the best of it.  That seemed our only choice.  A couple days later, things were complicated by the presence of lots and lots of little ants.  We had been pleasantly surprised by the complete lack of bugs in the apartment.  Both ants and cockroaches were absent, and that was a wonderful thing.  But all of the sudden, we had a colony of ants in the kitchen.  It seems they were coming from refrigerator number 2.  Ugh.  A very small refrigerator with almost no freezer space, infested with ants.  This is not what we signed up for! 

I killed a lot of ants in those first few days.  I mainly stepped on them or used a rag and smushed them or washed them down the sink.  I was able to get a lot of them at once when they made a long line from the refrigerator to our trash can.  I took the lid off the trash can and just ran water over it drowning all the ants who dared to venture out of their home.  However, if you’ve ever battled ants, you may know it’s a losing battle.  Somehow, they just keep coming back.  I eventually bought some spray and sprayed the refrigerator down each night, then swept up the dead ants in the morning.  Oh, and just to clarify, the ants weren’t really INSIDE the refrigerator, it was mostly in the back.  But my main problem was that they were coming out of the refrigerator into my kitchen! 

A few days later, we noticed the next problem with this small, no-freezer-space, bug-infested refrigerator.  It did not have that handy “no frost” feature that more modern refrigerators have.  This means that every so often, I would have to take everything out, unplug the refrigerator and let all the ice melt that had accumulated mainly all around the freezer box, and then wipe that up from inside and outside the refrigerator.

I don’t really know what the average period of time is that you usually need to do this … every six weeks, maybe three months.  But, this refrigerator required defrosting every 10 days!  It seemed to ice up quickly, and also as the ice grew, the space in the freezer shrunk … not a good thing.  So, now I felt like I had a lot of maintenance on this piece of equipment, and I was getting a little stressed out about the refrigerator situation, as I started referring to it.  When people would come visit our apartment, I would give them a tour, then show them the kitchen with two refrigerators in it, and briefly say we have a “refrigerator situation.”  I think it became some sort of badge with me.

Well, things started looking up a month or so after receiving refrigerator number 2.  We were gone all day and when we came back, there was a lot of water on the floor near the fridge.  Yes, the refrigerator is broken!  I was ready to sign on to that.  But the landlord wasn’t so sure.  She wanted to make sure the door had been closed all the way.  I think it had, but I couldn’t be totally sure.  Either way, it was kind of random as that was the first time it leaked water everywhere, and it still seemed cold inside.  Maybe it’s not broken!  Over the next few days, I tried to convince the landlord that this refrigerator had problems.  I brought her to see it when there was a long line of ants coming out of it, and when the ice had accumulated.  But she suggested bug spray and defrosting.  I weakly explained it really isn’t big enough as I like to make things ahead of time when the kids are napping and I have a spare moment.  I think we had a little problem.  We REALLY wanted a new refrigerator, and they REALLY didn’t want to buy one.  Jayson went to bat for us a couple times, but it didn’t seem to make them budge.

But eventually, budge they did.  I can’t even remember quite how we ever got this refrigerator situation resolved, but I think the landlord realized that we weren’t really given what we were promised, and this refrigerator number 2 was not the best.  So, we are happy to say we now have refrigerator number 3 in our kitchen, and numbers one and two are gone.

Although getting the first two refrigerators removed took some work in itself — the doorman and his daughter carried them out the door and into the hallway to the elevator, and we didn’t care to pay attention after that. It feels like we have a new kitchen … expanded.  This new refrigerator is not huge, but it’s definitely sufficient and it has the “no frost” feature!  We were so grateful and a bit surprised when she told me a new refrigerator would be delivered the next day!  But I’m happy to say I now have some tortillas and strawberries in the freezer … as well as some frozen chocolate chip cookies to pull out when guests come.

And we hope that is the end of this tale, as we all live happily ever after with refrigerator number three … at least through the end of our year-long lease.