I always wanted a personal security force?

Egypt puts a lot of money into its military and police. Well, the US gives Egypt a lot of money to put into its military and police, but that’s not the point. The point is that, sometimes, in the name of “security” (i.e. keeping an eye on foreigners?) private security officers are assigned to follow foreigners everywhere. Nick and I were the lucky recipients of a string of gun-wielding “friends” to “show us around.” In their defense, they were often quite friendly and engaging, and they thought it was pretty fun to teach us inappropriate phrases in Arabic. But the whole situation has been a little bizarre.

The first night we had a guard Nick and I were a little confused. A man just started following us, and he had a gun. When we tried to get into our friend’s car to go to a restaurant, the man motioned to join us. Our friend and the new security officer exchanged a couple words. The officer whipped out a badge. “Apparently someone in Cairo told him to go everywhere with you.”

Fortunately this guard was quite friendly. Sure, it was inconvenient to have to check in with guards every time we went to the supermarket, but we had heard stories of similar incidents all over the country, so for some reason we weren’t too concerned. It almost became “normal.”

...until time came to travel. A few weeks back, I visited an oasis west of Alexandria with Fulbright. We had told our security officers where I was going, so I was pretty surprised when I received four phone calls on the road from Egyptian friends. “Where are you? Your security officer is crying.” I’m going to Siwa with Fulbright, I told him that. “Saad knows you’re not going to Siwa – he heard you are going to Sinai. Why did you lie to him?” Ummm… I didn’t lie. I’m really going to Siwa. “You must report back with the name of the bus company you’re traveling with, the names of all your drivers, a list of every hotel you’re staying at, and how many security officers you’ll have with you at all times.”

This was getting excessive. So I told Fulbright. Turns out Nick and I probably shouldn’t have gotten used to having an armed guard with us at all times. Turns out that’s likely not appropriate at all.

This began one of the most complicated, political, and offensive series of encounters we’ve had yet. People at our English center were mad that Fulbright had gotten involved. “Why didn’t you tell us – why did you report us to Fulbright?” The security officers backed off for a night or two, but then began following us everywhere again. Some security officers – some of the most friendly, actually – were “let go.”

But our security situation didn’t entirely end there. One night a friend called us and asked if we wanted to go to a wedding. Yes, of course we did. He told us we would leave at 8 pm. At 7:30, our security officer showed up, asking what our plans were for the evening. “We’re going to a wedding with Bassim.” Our security officer said goodbye and wished us a pleasant evening. Ten minutes later, we got a call from Bassim, “Your security officer stopped by. He said you can’t go to the wedding because it’s in Cairo and you aren’t allowed to leave Zagazig.”

1- Cairo’s only an hour from Zagazig.
2- There is absolutely no rule “confining” us to Zagazig.
3- Our security officer didn’t confront us about it, he just told our friend not to take us. And our friend, being scared of the security forces in Egypt, listened.

We walked out of our front door later that evening to discover our security guard waiting for us. “When are you going to the wedding?” I still can't believe he had the cajones to ask us that. He then followed us around the rest of the evening, and we complained once again. Since then, we have not had a guard follow us anywhere, but not for lack of effort. Fortunately the guards have grown to accept that we are perfectly safe in Zagazig. Funny encounters still occur though. Here’s one:

This morning I rolled out of bed at a lazy 11 am. It’s Saturday and I had been up too late talking with friends online. Feeling terribly hungry, but not having much to consume around the house, I barely dressed myself and, hair still disheveled, I went to buy some bread from a bakery around the corner. Any friends who have seen me in the first five minutes after I wake know I’m hardly coherent and usually not fit for public viewing.

When I stepped off the elevator, I was greeted by a guard. “Are you going to the university now?” I looked down at my barely-appropriate attire and shot back a confused look. It’s Saturday. No, I’m not going to the university. “Where are you going?” To the bakery. “Just the bakery?” Yes. “Do you want me to come with you?” That’s not necessary.

When I arrived, the bakery was out of bread. It was, after all, already 11 am. So, I swung by a boutique next door and purchased a package of ramen noodles. I walked back toward our apartment building, where the guard was waiting for me. “Where did you go?” The bakery. [He looked down at my package of ramen noodles and pointed at it, accusingly.] The bakery was out of bread, so I went to the boutique – you know, the one between here and the bakery – and bought this instead. “The bakery was out of bread?” [More accusing glares.] Yes. The bakery was out of bread. “Okay, where are you going now? To the university?” No. It’s Saturday. I’m not going to the university. “Are you going downtown?” No, I’m going back to the apartment. “Just to your apartment?” Yes. “Will you go anywhere later today?” I don’t know, probably? “Where is Nick? Did he go downtown?” No, Nick is sleeping upstairs. “Sleeping?” Yes, sleeping. “Why is he sleeping?” Because he’s tired? “Will he go anywhere later?” I’m really not sure.

That was an extreme example. Usually we just tell them where we’re going, they ask us if they should come, and we say, “No.” It’s kind of funny to think that several people are employed just to sit by our apartment building and ask us where we’re going. But I guess these are jobs people need, and it’s a result of a bloated security force propped up by a foreign superpower. Thanks US government, once again, I totally agree with the things you spend money on.

Zagazig!

I'm going to try to offer bits from my first six weeks in Egypt over the course of several entries.

First off, I'm thrilled to say that I survived intensive Arabic, moved to site, found an apartment, and this/next week should begin teaching. My site is a delightful town with incredibly friendly people. By far the smallest of the sites to receive Fulbrighters, Zagazig has a certain charm that was lacking in Cairo. No, we don't have the options for entertainment we had in Cairo - symphony concerts, amazing museums, the pyramids and the Sphinx were wonderful diversions - but after two short weeks here I already feel surrounded by a community of teachers and neighbors that have made us feel incredibly welcome.

My sitemate, Nick, is a native of Ohio who graduated from Case Western. His Arabic skills far surpass mine. We found a roomy three bedroom, 1.5 bath near the Center for English where we work. There's plenty of places to host passers-through!

A couple highlights friends in Zagazig have introduced us to:
- bumper cars - the kind that haven't been maintenanced since the last time I rode bumper cars, at least a decade ago. It adds to the fun, I promise.
- Basaam bakery. Sorry RIM, we have chocolate on this end of the Sahara. Good chocolate. I didn't taste chocolate this good during my entire stay in Cairo. Allah knows I looked.
- hot dog crepes. animal parts and gobs of cheese (yes RIM, we have cheese on this end of the Sahara, too) are slathered into a crepe that, for $2 apiece, is going to be a cheap way to pack on pounds this year. There's a stand across the street from our apartment building. Ugh. I still haven't found a gym.
- Haysim. An entire entry will be devoted to this man soon. He has shown us true Egyptian hospitality, given us a crash course in every insult the local dialect has to offer, and introduced us to new people every night. I'm confident that this man is the reason Nick and I are having such an amazing time - especially when I speak with other Fulbrighters in other sites (larger cities) who are struggling to make friends. Thanks Haysim.

We're six weeks in. This is supposed to be the low point on the "culture shock" timeline. I'm still having a blast.

This is going to be a great year.

Time to re-start the blog!

Hey everyone - I've decided that I'm going to continue my same blog for my next North African adventure. This time I'm heading to Egypt on August 20 to teach English and American culture classes at Zagazig University. I'll only be there for one school year, but I'm hopeful that I'll have better access to the internet this time around, so insh'allah (Allah willing) I'll update this much more regularly than I did during Peace Corps. No worries, I promise to keep my entries short like always.

Oh, and if anyone knows of anyone in the Twin Cities who might offer private Arabic lessons, please let me know. Modern Standard Arabic or the Egyptian dialect would be great. Thanks!

RIP PC RIM

Due to security issues, Peace Corps Mauritania has been suspended for a bit. I'd like to pretend it was a huge surprise... but that wouldn't be entirely accurate. I'm now in the hustle and bustle of looking for a job state-side while keeping options open for another Peace Corps service somewhere else, though likely not for another entire 27 months. Chinguetti, I'll miss you. Thanks to all who read this blog over the past year. Peace out.

Is this heaven? ...no, it's Saint Louis.

First, I must apologize for the dearth of blog entries. I aim to ameliorate that situation pronto.

One might assume that, therefore, I will talk about projects at site, offer pretentious cultural insights, or reflect on my year since starting service with Peace Corps.

One might be dead wrong. I don't feel like talking about Mauritania. It's hot here. My teeth are rotting thanks to the copious amounts of sugar I consume, and my family thinks vegetables are "bad health". I suppose that my next couple entries will likely reference Mauritania because, you know, that's where I live and spend 99% of my time. But for now, I'm going to share stories from my wonderful week south of the border in Saint Louis, Senegal (henceforth referred to as "heaven").

Heaven is a beautiful little town that occupies both sides of a small bay, as well as a large island in between. The middle island is the touristy part. Walking around the island, one's senses are bombarded by hundreds of stands selling spicy sandwiches and fruits of all varieties, booths blasting vibrant music, and, most importantly, no sand dunes or sandy couscous.

Each spring heaven hosts Jazz Fest, a four-day funfest offering excellent music, food, beaches and company. Peace Corps Mauritania generally invades heaven twice each year: New Year's and Jazz Fest. This year I decided to skip New Year's, so my first trip to heaven was aided by friends who already knew the best restaurants, the boutiques with the cheapest, coldest beers, and the best places for evening festivities.

Weather-wise, heaven was perfect. Mornings were cool, comfy. Afternoons were warm but not uncomfortably so. Evening breezes made me want to sit outside at every restaurant.

Food was cheap, filling, and everywhere.

Waves on the beach were so large that they knocked you on your butt.

My legs are still peeling after long afternoons spent next to pools and the ocean (curse you, fair skin of mine!) but let me assure you that I relish each fleck of dead skin I peel away - souvenirs from a better place. I'll miss you heaven. Until I return, it's back to couscous.

Flexibility Training

A few changes from the past couple months, just to keep everyone on their toes:

- The Mauritanian election, originally set for June 6, was postponed a month. All opposition parties (I believe) have agreed to this new timetable. This should make for a smoother transition.

- Our new Peace Corps Volunteers were set to arrive next week. However, due to some visa issues, they will (hopefully) come in August. Keep your fingers crossed here. We (Peace Corps Mauritania Volunteers) are anxiously awaiting this new class.

- We were supposed to travel to Mali for a soccer game vs. Peace Corps Mali. Yesterday I arrived in Aioun - a city near the border of Mali where, coincidentally, I was supposed to work until my site was switched at the last second to Chinguetti - to discover that the soccer game was canceled and that the border with Mali is now closed to US citizens (there's a rumor that the latter statement is just a rumor).

SOOOOO, I will likely be returning to site a little earlier than expected. I'm still very excited to catch up on stories (and food!) while I'm in the States during August. And as always, in the meantime shoot me an e-mail update whenever. It's a blast to hear from people back home.

Me = homeless

Top 10 reasons being in Peace Corps Mauritania is like being homeless in America:

10. The world is our toilet.
9. We sleep outside on the ground.
8. We bum meals most days.
7. We pick our noses, hawk loogies, and discuss diarrhea in public, unabashedly.
6. We don't eat fruits or vegetables for days at a time.
5. Our clothes are all tattered (I have no hole-less pants left, and I wear pants everyday).
4. We go for weeks without showering, and we don't wear deodorant.
3. We have few definite life goals or plans.
2. We survive on a generous $200/month from Uncle Sam; and:
1. Nevertheless, we still find money for alcohol (only while in Senegal, of course.)