Date: Monday, December 24, 2012
Time: 1:51pm… wait, 2:51pm
Location: Amman International Airport, Jordan
I’m currently sitting in the rows of chairs in the middle of the walkway in the hall in the Amman airport. I refuse to go to the World News Café to my left. The cashier with the sticky pink lipstick gave short rude answers when Priscila and I were asking about the Internet. So now I’m taking my rights—Egypt has rubbed off on me. ☺
Priscila, the SM who works at the preschool in Heliopolis, and I are traveling to Istanbul together for a week. We left at 5:30 this morning, had a layover in Amman and then a connecting flight to Istanbul. Well, we got to Amman and went straight to the gate where our next flight was… and… we ended up missing the flight. (The rude lady just starting yelling across the way to get someone’s attention. Quiet, rude lady.) We did not know that there was an hour time difference between Cairo and Amman because the flight was just over an hour and we could not understand any of the announcements that were being made. Five minutes before our supposed boarding time, we asked one of the men where to go, and he freaked out and started yelling at us and radioing everyone and their mom—wait, no dad (because it’s a patriarchal culture)—and we had no idea what was going on, so we just followed person after person for a long time and eventually found out that we had missed the flight. They were trying to charge us to change the ticket—the next available ticket was for the same time Christmas day. And our options for nighttime were to stay at the airport hotel for $180 or we could buy a visa and take an expensive taxi ride into the far away city of Amman. But I asked the man if the tickets were available and if we could have them free of charge. He didn’t answer but went into a back room… and we have our tickets. Praise God. We’re spending the night by the gate. “We’re volunteers in Egypt,” didn’t rouse enough sympathy for a free hotel room.
It has been nice to be out of class for a few days. Everyone was ready for a break. The students have started to get crankier and have more attitudes, and some are just restless and talk more. The flu has been going around the school as well, so no one is at his or her best.
I sat next to a lady while waiting for the plane in Cairo. She looked maybe in her early 60s. She said she had just gotten married, and her husband would be joining her in two weeks to a month. She’s been in Egypt for the past nine months… and I’m a little nervous for her. I hope that he is a good man. Egyptian men can be very smooth. And they’re very masculine, chivalrous, generous, and supposedly charming. But I have never seen people fly off the handle as quickly as them either—which of course does not come right away. And domestic violence is not really considered domestic violence. Oh, whoops, too bad that happened, but such is life. People fight. So I hope that she is okay and that they’re nice little friends that live happily ever after.
I’d really like pizza. With lots of sauce. My mouth is watering.
Oh. Anyway, this lady was saying that her mother-in-law had surgery with “two cuts” (very technical), and she received no pain medicine, no one came to check on her for hours at a time, and several other things. My friend, whose name I never learned, said she had to have surgery too, but she’d have it done in Egypt over her dead body. There are some good hospitals in Egypt. But there is a very big gap between the good hospitals and the bad ones. While chewing out some students for carrying their sick friend out of the dorm Biblical miracle-style to a car to take him to the hospital (because Peggy and I apparently didn’t know what we were doing…), she told them that she wouldn’t take her dying dog to that hospital. That was an event.
(Preface: I know that every culture is different. The two that I happen to know the best are American culture, of course, and Egyptian culture. So me speaking of Egypt could really be me speaking of half the world or however many countries have the same mentality about sickness and medical care.) I have never seen such wimpy guys in my life. The men in Egypt are VERY masculine and the women are VERY feminine, but as soon as a guy has a slight fever or whatever it might be, he wraps himself up like a little hotdog and “cannot” move from his bed and can barely speak—if he can speak at all. At first I would get really worried about them because the friends would run to come get me and tell me to run to their friend because he’s “very very sick.” Everyone is “very very sick.” I think they feel like they won’t be taken seriously if they only say “sick,” or “kind of sick.” To me, very sick describes someone in a hospital with his life at stake.
I was called to come to the boys’ dorm one Saturday night while I was on supervision. One student was apparently very sick.
“Okay, can you tell him to come outside the dorm so I can see him?”
“I don’t think he can.”
“Well, I don’t want to go in the boys’ dorm, so have him come right outside.”
“I’ll tell him. But he can’t move, and he can’t speak.” (This is the biggest indicator to not take someone seriously. It makes me want to take longer to get to a person like this because I have seen very sick people throughout my time working in the hospital, and almost no one is incapable of moving or talking—and even less 16-22-year olds.)
“Yes he can.”
“Uh…”
“Okay. Fine. I will come there.”
So I go to his room, where he is crowded by sincerely concerned friends—bless their hearts. Of course he is unresponsive. He has good color, capillary refill. Vital signs are completely normal. From what I can tell, completely faking it. Possibly uncomfortable, but still capable of movement and communication—just choosing not to. One boy told me that this “very sick” student may have had a problem at his house earlier that day. Ah, so that’s the problem. They said that he is complaining of chest pain. So I give his friends two Tylenol to work at giving to him. If he was unresponsive, I would have given some other form of medication, but he was fine. And he did end up taking the medication between that time and the next time that a group of his worried friends insisted that I come see him—again. I was already irritated because he the sick guy was faking it or just being ridiculously dramatic, and his friends were being very impatient with me and yelling for me to hurry and run and because he was “dying,” so I heard in Arabic. I said that I just saw him and he was okay, etc. This friend Thomas adamantly disagreed with me in Arabic saying that the “sick” guy can’t move or talk and he’s not fine. Unfortunately I did not speak with the patience of Christ, and I said in a combination of Arabic and English (because Thomas has one of the smallest English vocabularies in the school), “I am a nurse. You are NOT a nurse. HE IS FINE. He doesn’t WANT to move. He doesn’t WANT to talk. HE IS FINE.” “No, ya miss.” So I went again. He was fine. I had called Peggy earlier to see if she would do anything else or if I could be missing something. Nope. She called the boys’ dean to tell him that this guy was fine. The boys’ dean and the RA saw me later and were worried because they hadn’t seen someone act like that before and they just wanted to be sure. So I went. Again. I retook all of his vital signs, explained everything that I was observing to the dean, the RA, and the friends that think they’re doctors. I explained that all of the things that this guy did not have control over were perfectly fine. It’s only the things that he can control that seem to be the problem. The RA was really annoyed with the guy at this point and was saying to the wannabe doctors that he was faking it. I thanked the concerned friends for caring about him and told them that if they wanted to stay with him and talk to him they could. “What if he falls asleep like this?” “Good. That means that he is tired and not in enough pain to keep him awake.” An hour later I heard a report, “He lifted his head!” “Very good.” The next day, he was fine. Ughioafgnoiadmgoismdfg. I tried to pray that I would have love and patience for this student because for someone to fake sick for attention like that… they’ve either learned no other way of getting attention, they want someone to love them, or they feel like it’s perfectly okay to try to punish whoever they’re mad at by faking sick. And that is sick in and of itself. There is a no-fainting policy at school because the women in Egypt faint far too regularly. If they faint, they have to leave the school and come back with a doctor’s note saying that they’re okay. The culture is so dramatic that there are more physical manifestations to their emotions… which I believe they could control.
I just don’t like feeling incompetent, and the heroes that dragged the guy off to the hospital and his friends felt that way. “All you give is ibuprofen!” Yes, and he has the flu. I’m not going to give him antibiotics for a virus like they did in the 1940s and still apparently do all the time in Egypt. I want to bring down his fever and take away his body aches. I could use 20 different medications in many different forms (they seem to think injections fix everything…), but I’d rather stick to only a few so that you are capable of taking care of yourself and your family for minor things instead of running off to the hospital for every little thing. Many of the doctors in Egypt treat the people like they’re stupid by saying things like someone has “electric” in his brain when they feel that explaining a migraine is too complicated for laypeople to understand. This girl has a cold and will get over it in a few days… but let me whirl around and let you think that I’m a magician who knows what I am doing, and stick a nasal cannula in your nostrils and administer oxygen to you, girl with perfectly fine oxygen saturation. Let me write a prescription for FIVE medications, some injectable, some effervescent pills to dissolve in water, and some capsules so that you feel like I’m really smart and covering all my bases, when all you need is one. Because apparently many of the doctors either don’t have patience themselves, or don’t think that the people will come back to them if they’re told to wait and that something will get better in time. So let’s load them up with unnecessary meds, listen to their stomach, and give them a big ol’ shot in the rear end. I don’t have strong feelings about this or anything. ☺ I am just thankful that the doctors in the US are required to have three years of residency and continuing education even after they graduate to keep up their licenses. And I am incredibly thankful to have someone as competent as Peggy at NUA. I would trust anyone I truly care about to her.
Not everyone is foffy ("wimpy" in English). Akram looks miserable but does his best to speak English and even try to work with a fever of 102. So I don’t speak of everyone. And sometimes I’ll see miserable-looking people and have them come with me so that I can check them out even if they never asked for my help. And the worrying friends are probably concerned because they have known people who have died from things that seemed very simple, so they freak out easily. It’s not what I’m used to, but it’s all that many of them have ever seen and known.
Priscila and I sat at this café here in the airport for five hours. During that time, she went to the bathroom twice. Each time, the guy behind the counter brought me something for free—hot chocolate and then pringles—and was very helpful. I wasn’t sure if he wanted a tip or if he was hitting on me. I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, so I assumed he was nice. Until he winked at me behind her back. His name is Omar, and he is coming home with me in June. (For those of you who didn’t know, after prayer, communication with nursing professors and hospital people, and more consideration, I’ve changed my ticket and am coming home after graduation. I’m really looking forward to it, though I do miss home.)
Monday, December 24, 2012
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Recent Update. Relationships/Marriage
Neven teaches Arabic and is in charge of the greenhouses here on campus. I like her. She is really tall, which is an insignificant detail. She’s also very straightforward, which is very unusual for an Egyptian, especially a woman. It’s very refreshing. I like to know where people stand, and it’s nice to not have to guess what someone’s thinking. I’ve asked her to teach me Arabic, and she’s excited about it. Students have taught me some words, but they have not taught me how the language works, so I’m really hoping to learn quite a bit. I’m excited. Taylor started coming with me. That’s good.
Neven and I are in charge of the play for the Christmas program. We were instructed that there was to be nothing to do with drinking or drugs in the play. Stupid instruction, I thought. Then I remembered: No… that’s a very good guideline. Nothing should be assumed. The last time I was here, there were some people that were really pushing for something along those lines. And I think it was the last line or two that mentioned something about, “Oh, it’s Christmas. Let’s forgive the drunk man that murdered my family.” “Okay.” Yes, I exaggerate, but that was the story line—I kid you not. Not this year. We’re doing the nativity story. Gladys suggested that we ask a man who sometimes works on campus if we can borrow his baby camel for the play. Neven came to me last night and said that we couldn’t. “Why not?” “Because he ate it.” So that’s that, I guess.
In my junior and senior Bible classes I’ve been teaching a lot about marriage. I am not married, nor do I have kids, yet they still take me seriously. Haha. I guess that works. This past week we split up the girls and the guys. Pastor Tom talked with the guys, and I took the girls and talked to them about physical abuse in relationships, waiting for a guy who is worthy, rape, and how we teach people how to treat us. On Monday I will be teaching them about female genital mutilation. Egypt and Sudan have the highest rates of FGM in the world. I believe that it started along the Nile and is a tradition that persists. It is apparently less common than it was ten years ago, but I am sure that some of these girls must have undergone it. I want them to learn about what exactly happened, why it is pointless, why they should never make or allow their daughters be cut, and what the hymen has to do with virginity. It is still a very common practice here for the family to come the day after the wedding to see the bloody sheet. I was mortified when I first heard that, but now I’m more used to the idea of it. I mean, who needs privacy anyway?
One of my Egyptian friends got married a couple years ago to a non-Egyptian guy. We were at her house, and her non-English speaking family was talking in Arabic about the wedding that was coming up and about how they were going to come over the next day, etc. Her fiancé got very serious and said to her and me in English, “They will see nothing. If they want to see blood they can go kill a goat.” I started laughing and was so proud of him.
I wish that marriage was more respected and treated more sacredly in American culture than it is. And I have come to appreciate how highly marriage is regarded here. But there are downsides to every good thing, and here the downside is that girls sometimes feel like they can’t get out of relationships. Dating around is not an option. Reputation is just about everything, and a girl who has dated too much in her past, or even at all, may not be looked at as an acceptable girl to be with. Even if a guy is fine with her, his family might really have a problem with it. And her family is all paranoid that she will seem loose and dirty. But I strongly emphasized to them that it is better to feel pain and shame and be talked about now than to be miserably married to the wrong man for the rest of their lives. I am excited about teaching these girls to make decisions for themselves. I am all about honoring parents and authority, but I think that here, especially within the conservative Upper Egyptian cultures, families don’t know how to mind their own business. Everything is everyone’s business. I put a lot of emphasis on “…a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.”
Who is he leaving?
His mother and father.
Who is he becoming one with?
His wife.
So who is he supposed to put first, his wife or his parents?
His wife. But Miss, the Bible says to honor your mother and your father.
You can and should still honor them. But you are one with your wife. You must be united to each other. And you must put each other before your parents. Love them, honor them, but you may have to establish boundaries with them so that your marriage can work.
I do not want to turn them away from their families, but when everyone in their extended family lives in a single apartment building all on top of each other, or even within the same house, the controlling mothers-in-law run wild.
Before we split up the girls and the guys, I began to touch on domestic violence, and I realized that I had to cross a couple guys off my I-don't-think-he’d-hit-me list. It was surprising and yet not. I heard reasons like, “No, it’s not good, but we are only human and sometimes we can’t control ourselves,” and, “We saw our fathers do it all our lives, and their fathers did it, and their fathers did it. It’s part of our culture and it’s what we know.” I explained as best as I could why it is very faulty logic to think that that is acceptable even if “by accident” and added solid Biblical reasoning. But me explaining all of that may have just sounded like someone who didn’t want to get hit. So I let the big 6’4” man, Pastor Tom, finish that one off.
I have high hopes for these students. They are good. And I am so thankful that we can teach them these things. There have been so many things that I have just considered common sense, but then I realize later through something that I’ve seen that I learned that information in school at some point. So hopefully what we are teaching them will become like common sense.
I told the class that I was going to marry someone who would teach Sabbath school with me someday and we’d have the young people from our church over during the week and eat and talk about God. Ashraf smiled and said in a That’s-cute,-let-me-pat-you-on-the-head-for-your-sweet-idea voice, “There’s no one like that, ya Miss. There’s no one like you.” “Ashraf, you can come to my wedding someday.”
“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” –Psalm 37:4
Neven and I are in charge of the play for the Christmas program. We were instructed that there was to be nothing to do with drinking or drugs in the play. Stupid instruction, I thought. Then I remembered: No… that’s a very good guideline. Nothing should be assumed. The last time I was here, there were some people that were really pushing for something along those lines. And I think it was the last line or two that mentioned something about, “Oh, it’s Christmas. Let’s forgive the drunk man that murdered my family.” “Okay.” Yes, I exaggerate, but that was the story line—I kid you not. Not this year. We’re doing the nativity story. Gladys suggested that we ask a man who sometimes works on campus if we can borrow his baby camel for the play. Neven came to me last night and said that we couldn’t. “Why not?” “Because he ate it.” So that’s that, I guess.
In my junior and senior Bible classes I’ve been teaching a lot about marriage. I am not married, nor do I have kids, yet they still take me seriously. Haha. I guess that works. This past week we split up the girls and the guys. Pastor Tom talked with the guys, and I took the girls and talked to them about physical abuse in relationships, waiting for a guy who is worthy, rape, and how we teach people how to treat us. On Monday I will be teaching them about female genital mutilation. Egypt and Sudan have the highest rates of FGM in the world. I believe that it started along the Nile and is a tradition that persists. It is apparently less common than it was ten years ago, but I am sure that some of these girls must have undergone it. I want them to learn about what exactly happened, why it is pointless, why they should never make or allow their daughters be cut, and what the hymen has to do with virginity. It is still a very common practice here for the family to come the day after the wedding to see the bloody sheet. I was mortified when I first heard that, but now I’m more used to the idea of it. I mean, who needs privacy anyway?
One of my Egyptian friends got married a couple years ago to a non-Egyptian guy. We were at her house, and her non-English speaking family was talking in Arabic about the wedding that was coming up and about how they were going to come over the next day, etc. Her fiancé got very serious and said to her and me in English, “They will see nothing. If they want to see blood they can go kill a goat.” I started laughing and was so proud of him.
I wish that marriage was more respected and treated more sacredly in American culture than it is. And I have come to appreciate how highly marriage is regarded here. But there are downsides to every good thing, and here the downside is that girls sometimes feel like they can’t get out of relationships. Dating around is not an option. Reputation is just about everything, and a girl who has dated too much in her past, or even at all, may not be looked at as an acceptable girl to be with. Even if a guy is fine with her, his family might really have a problem with it. And her family is all paranoid that she will seem loose and dirty. But I strongly emphasized to them that it is better to feel pain and shame and be talked about now than to be miserably married to the wrong man for the rest of their lives. I am excited about teaching these girls to make decisions for themselves. I am all about honoring parents and authority, but I think that here, especially within the conservative Upper Egyptian cultures, families don’t know how to mind their own business. Everything is everyone’s business. I put a lot of emphasis on “…a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.”
Who is he leaving?
His mother and father.
Who is he becoming one with?
His wife.
So who is he supposed to put first, his wife or his parents?
His wife. But Miss, the Bible says to honor your mother and your father.
You can and should still honor them. But you are one with your wife. You must be united to each other. And you must put each other before your parents. Love them, honor them, but you may have to establish boundaries with them so that your marriage can work.
I do not want to turn them away from their families, but when everyone in their extended family lives in a single apartment building all on top of each other, or even within the same house, the controlling mothers-in-law run wild.
Before we split up the girls and the guys, I began to touch on domestic violence, and I realized that I had to cross a couple guys off my I-don't-think-he’d-hit-me list. It was surprising and yet not. I heard reasons like, “No, it’s not good, but we are only human and sometimes we can’t control ourselves,” and, “We saw our fathers do it all our lives, and their fathers did it, and their fathers did it. It’s part of our culture and it’s what we know.” I explained as best as I could why it is very faulty logic to think that that is acceptable even if “by accident” and added solid Biblical reasoning. But me explaining all of that may have just sounded like someone who didn’t want to get hit. So I let the big 6’4” man, Pastor Tom, finish that one off.
I have high hopes for these students. They are good. And I am so thankful that we can teach them these things. There have been so many things that I have just considered common sense, but then I realize later through something that I’ve seen that I learned that information in school at some point. So hopefully what we are teaching them will become like common sense.
I told the class that I was going to marry someone who would teach Sabbath school with me someday and we’d have the young people from our church over during the week and eat and talk about God. Ashraf smiled and said in a That’s-cute,-let-me-pat-you-on-the-head-for-your-sweet-idea voice, “There’s no one like that, ya Miss. There’s no one like you.” “Ashraf, you can come to my wedding someday.”
“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” –Psalm 37:4
Monday, November 12, 2012
Trust inspires growth.
I am normally teaching the seniors’ Bible class during this time, but right now I am sitting behind them on the stage of the church as four of the guys stand up and talk to the class. They told me that there was a problem this weekend, and they needed to solve it and asked if they could solve this problem while everyone was together because a lot of people wouldn’t show up if they called for a meeting. Sitting here, I am so proud of them. I understand a few words here and there, enough to get a very basic understanding of what the problem might be, and the way that they are going about it is so mature and responsible. Starting with a word of affirmation and encouragement and then addressing what the issue is. They are letting each other finish speaking instead of overreacting, storming out, and talking over each other. This never would have happened three years ago. For those of you who know the students here, the ones up front leading this discussion are Peter N, Bassem M, Ashraf A, and Peter S—SA and class presidents and vice presidents. I have been surprised by the leadership in all of them—I did not expect this. And I guess this is a really good example to support that people step up to where they are called. If we call them to a higher place, they will come to it. If we expect little, we will get little. Trust inspires maturity and leadership. Peter N was sneaky and lazy. Bassem was hotheaded and unwilling to communicate. Ashraf was a class clown who didn’t take responsibility for his actions. And Peter S was immature, with the voice of Mickey Mouse, and definitely not capable of leading his class. I respect these guys.
I also couldn’t be more proud of the way that the wall has fallen between the Egyptians and Sudanese within this class. The girls take pictures together and the guys joke around and affirm each other. They are so much more united than I remember, and Bethany says that racism is so much less of an issue than it was her first year here, the year before I first came in 2009. They still have their own preferences in music, food, and other things, but they appreciate and respect each other. I am so pleased. I want to end this post before I have to take anything back that I have just said. Just kidding.
Here are some of the guys joking around at a senior party they had. (L-R: Omar, Antony, Peter N, Bassem, Adeeb, Ashraf, Shenouda)
I also couldn’t be more proud of the way that the wall has fallen between the Egyptians and Sudanese within this class. The girls take pictures together and the guys joke around and affirm each other. They are so much more united than I remember, and Bethany says that racism is so much less of an issue than it was her first year here, the year before I first came in 2009. They still have their own preferences in music, food, and other things, but they appreciate and respect each other. I am so pleased. I want to end this post before I have to take anything back that I have just said. Just kidding.
Here are some of the guys joking around at a senior party they had. (L-R: Omar, Antony, Peter N, Bassem, Adeeb, Ashraf, Shenouda)
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Her name means “happy.”
I sat on her bed writing in my journal because Priscila and Mary were already asleep, and there was nowhere else to sit in the house. Saeda was looking through pictures on Facebook next to her sister Marina, who had fallen asleep long before her. Saeda told me this year that she remembers when I first taught her in ESL three years ago. She remembers my big poster that said, “Good morning,” and “My name is…” I love it that I am one of her first memories of speaking English. She learned English really quickly because she is so outgoing and loves to talk.
I came back to visit NUA in May of 2011, just a couple weeks after the microbus accident that injured several of the students and ended up killing one of them. It was in that accident that Saeda lost half of three of her fingers after they were crushed. We were afraid that she would not come back to school after the accident, but she did. And I remember helping her soak and wrap her hand in the way that the doctor had instructed her. I remember the stitches, and how she didn’t like to look at it. She was always very strong though. I admired her. Most Egyptian girls are “foffy” (wimpy), but not this one. This one impressed me. This one called me to a new level of optimism and strength and trust. I was worried about her dreams of becoming a doctor. And I remember fuming about the girls who told her to hide her hand because someone might not want to marry her. Any deformity or imperfection is a big deal, especially for an Upper Egyptian girl.
So as I was sitting on her bed we began to talk. And eventually the conversation led her to ask me why God allowed that to happen to her. Why to her? We talked about this broken world full of pain and imperfection, and then about the beauty that God draws out of every ugly thing. I told her of her influence and how inspiring she is and how she reminds people that they can be strong when they begin to forget. We talked for a while longer.
The name Saeda is a very old name. No one here really names their daughter that anymore. She said she never knew why she was named that until the accident. As soon as she said that, chills shot up my spine. Saeda means “happy.” Now she loves her name and thanks God for it. It was perfectly chosen for her. And I just love God for things like that. He created her inmost being. He knit her together in her mother’s womb. I praise Him because she is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is such a positive and optimistic person. She does not deny that anything happened and is still haunted by images of it at times, but she is always smiling. And when she speaks up front, she has no shame in using her hands to talk. There is absolutely no effort to try to hide anything, and I’m so proud of her. Al Humdolillah. God chose her name. God named me too. My name means “Princess.” I never liked the meaning of it. I am not a girly girl. I am not high maintenance. I don’t have the commanding yet graceful presence of a princess. But in the summer of 2011, the thought hit me like a ton of bricks, “I don’t call myself a princess, but God thinks I’m one.” God thinks the world of me and lifts me up to that level. He chose my name too.
I came back to visit NUA in May of 2011, just a couple weeks after the microbus accident that injured several of the students and ended up killing one of them. It was in that accident that Saeda lost half of three of her fingers after they were crushed. We were afraid that she would not come back to school after the accident, but she did. And I remember helping her soak and wrap her hand in the way that the doctor had instructed her. I remember the stitches, and how she didn’t like to look at it. She was always very strong though. I admired her. Most Egyptian girls are “foffy” (wimpy), but not this one. This one impressed me. This one called me to a new level of optimism and strength and trust. I was worried about her dreams of becoming a doctor. And I remember fuming about the girls who told her to hide her hand because someone might not want to marry her. Any deformity or imperfection is a big deal, especially for an Upper Egyptian girl.
So as I was sitting on her bed we began to talk. And eventually the conversation led her to ask me why God allowed that to happen to her. Why to her? We talked about this broken world full of pain and imperfection, and then about the beauty that God draws out of every ugly thing. I told her of her influence and how inspiring she is and how she reminds people that they can be strong when they begin to forget. We talked for a while longer.
The name Saeda is a very old name. No one here really names their daughter that anymore. She said she never knew why she was named that until the accident. As soon as she said that, chills shot up my spine. Saeda means “happy.” Now she loves her name and thanks God for it. It was perfectly chosen for her. And I just love God for things like that. He created her inmost being. He knit her together in her mother’s womb. I praise Him because she is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is such a positive and optimistic person. She does not deny that anything happened and is still haunted by images of it at times, but she is always smiling. And when she speaks up front, she has no shame in using her hands to talk. There is absolutely no effort to try to hide anything, and I’m so proud of her. Al Humdolillah. God chose her name. God named me too. My name means “Princess.” I never liked the meaning of it. I am not a girly girl. I am not high maintenance. I don’t have the commanding yet graceful presence of a princess. But in the summer of 2011, the thought hit me like a ton of bricks, “I don’t call myself a princess, but God thinks I’m one.” God thinks the world of me and lifts me up to that level. He chose my name too.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
This is a man's world.
We had a 10-day vacation during the time of an important Muslim feast. So Austin, Jeff, Mary, Priscila (the Argentinian SM who works at the preschool in Heliopolis), and I travelled to two Upper Egyptian villages—Zewak and Tatalyah. We took the train from Cairo to Sohag Monday night on our way to Zewak.
This is part of my journal entry.
Welcome to Zewak!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012 9:24pm—on my bed @ Saeda’s house; Zewak, Egypt
Today has been on of the longest days of my life. We got here at 6am—a sweet Muslim lady helped us to know when to get off the train in Sohag. She was nice and smiled at me a lot. We thought we passed the station and were paranoid for a while. Mina Farid and Girgis Magdy were at the train station waiting for us. I feel very comfortable w/ them an dcan treat them like friends instead of putting on my I’m-trying-to-please-you-by-smiling-constantly face. We came to Saeda’s, where the girls are staying, and we slept for two hours.
We got up at 8:30 and ate the typical Egyptian breakfast—fool (beans), falafel, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, warm sweet buffalo milk, and this thick Upper Egyptian bread that they bake on the roves here. Then Mina came for us by yelling Saeda’s dad’s name outside the house. (He said that if he said hers or her sister’s names, her dad would kill him. I guess then because the neighbors would know that a girl named Saeda lived there. People’s lives there seem to be ruled by everyone else’s opinions.) We stepped over some dead birds, dead mice, and even a flattened cat as we were walkeing around today. The dirt roads are scattered with hay, garbage, pieces of sugar cane, feathers, poop, and dead animals. It was comfortable with Mina’s family. I’d been there a couple years ago. Plus his uncle was there who works in Kuwait and speaks very good English. He’s funny and more westernized, though I don’t believe that the Zewakese men who work in Kuwait treat their wives in a western way. The houses we visited today were Mina & Girgis, Sobhy, Mikhael M, Ibrahim A, Yousef & Iscander C, Lina H, Gad S, Amir H, Adeeb & Adel, Ashraf, and Steven’s. Lunch at Mina’s, dinner the second time we went to Mikhael’s house. We also went very begrudgingly to the pastor’s house because of Mr. S____. I’ll explain later.
Marina, Saeda’s sister, tried on her mom’s berda, which is a big black robe thing that many of the Christian women have to wear when they go outside—“have to wear” because their husbands say so. They are wearing just as much clothing as the conservative Muslims wear, but just in a different way. Saeda’s mom got married when she was 13. She said she didn’t even know what marriage was. (When we talked to her and Saeda later, they were explaining that you never really think to question your parents. They say, “You’re going to be engaged to this guy.” You say, “Okay.” No big deal. Such is life.) She is now 36. She said (and this is all through translation) that she is in such bad shape now that she wouldn’t be able to walk to the main road. She gets tired going up her stairs. Why is she in such bad shape? Because she hardly ever can leave the house. She is upset that Saeda is not engaged yet. Saeda though she’d be engaged by 15 or 16 and married at 18 until she came to NUA and felt her eyes were opened. Her mom is upset and wants her to be engaged, but her dad thinks it’s good and wants her to finish school. (Thank God that he seems to be pretty progressive.) Mina’s aunt and grandma cooked for us. They weren’t allowed to go in certain parts of the house in case men walked by and saw them. Then his uncle would have shouted. The men sat around and joked and were served, or so it appeared (but I acknowledge that we came here to see mostly guys) while the women served them. This is such a man’s world. It made me depressed. This is where Mina grew up before he moved to Alexandria, but he said he cannot stay here when I asked how he preferred things after he explained some things about the women. Gad’s brother got married August 4. He works in Kuwait, and his beautiful young wife lives alone in a beautiful house. Her name is Wafa’. She is beautiful. She must be 18 or so. She was talkative and sweet and fun, though she didn’t speak a word of English. She asked us to stay with her. I think we will Wednesday night. –Oh no! I hear a spoon stirring in a glass outside the door… more tea? Hibiscus? Lord, please no! I drank 9 sodas, 3 cups of juice, and 2 cups of tea today in addition to three gigantic meals. I almost threw up. –Anyway, I feel so bad for cute little pregnant Wafa’ because she’s only a kid. And she’s lonely and her husband works in Kuwait. I think we will have a good time staying w/ her. I know more Arabic than anyone in our group, and we can make do w/ that. Maybe God will use us in her life. Al Humdolillah.
This is Priscila wearing a berda at Ibrahim's house with his aunt and grandma. She is showing more here than a woman on the street would. They house the headscarf part mostly closed in front of their faces.
Oh, when we first got to Saeda’s house just after 6am, Marina walked down the stairs of the animal room/area (?) from the bedrooms holding her 1 ½ year old brother Mosa. Priscila was in front of me and went to touch him to say hi, but she jumped a little. I looked, and in his hand was a black pigeon that he was clutching by the wings.
I’m not sitting on Saeda’s bed. We’re talking about life here. She said before NUA, she was a “blind cat” (expression in Arabic). I am SO endlessly thankful that she is at NUA. She and the other girls. There are so many beautiful, smart, fun women trapped away. In the house, they do joke and seem comfortable, which is a relief to me.
If any change happens it has to be because Zewakese men buck the system. Saeda said she wished our love and marriage class was taught here. Ha! They would beat me to death--not sure if that’s an exaggeration or not… But it has to start with a Zewakese man. Lord, have mercy.
We went to a meeting at the SDA church tonight, and Yesa Mosa (Maryam’s brother) is the pastor. There is still the wall between the men and women’s sides of the church. They sang enthusiastically and that made me happy. Then he welcomed the guest from Nile Union Academy. “Shukran.” (Thank you.) Then he said that they were going to have one of the teachers from NUA speak to them. We all looked around at each other. No one volunteered, so I gave two impromptu sermons. My first one apparently wasn’t long enough, so I had to talk about something else.
This was taken at the SDA church in Zewak. It's the SMs with some of the students, one of the elders, and some kids.
I have a LOT more I want to write about, so I will update again as soon as I get the chance.
This is the food that we ate at Steven's house. Egyptians make so much food that you can never eat more than half of it. In Tatalyah, the tables were so filled food that there was nowhere to put all of the bowls.
This is part of my journal entry.
Welcome to Zewak!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012 9:24pm—on my bed @ Saeda’s house; Zewak, Egypt
Today has been on of the longest days of my life. We got here at 6am—a sweet Muslim lady helped us to know when to get off the train in Sohag. She was nice and smiled at me a lot. We thought we passed the station and were paranoid for a while. Mina Farid and Girgis Magdy were at the train station waiting for us. I feel very comfortable w/ them an dcan treat them like friends instead of putting on my I’m-trying-to-please-you-by-smiling-constantly face. We came to Saeda’s, where the girls are staying, and we slept for two hours.
We got up at 8:30 and ate the typical Egyptian breakfast—fool (beans), falafel, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, warm sweet buffalo milk, and this thick Upper Egyptian bread that they bake on the roves here. Then Mina came for us by yelling Saeda’s dad’s name outside the house. (He said that if he said hers or her sister’s names, her dad would kill him. I guess then because the neighbors would know that a girl named Saeda lived there. People’s lives there seem to be ruled by everyone else’s opinions.) We stepped over some dead birds, dead mice, and even a flattened cat as we were walkeing around today. The dirt roads are scattered with hay, garbage, pieces of sugar cane, feathers, poop, and dead animals. It was comfortable with Mina’s family. I’d been there a couple years ago. Plus his uncle was there who works in Kuwait and speaks very good English. He’s funny and more westernized, though I don’t believe that the Zewakese men who work in Kuwait treat their wives in a western way. The houses we visited today were Mina & Girgis, Sobhy, Mikhael M, Ibrahim A, Yousef & Iscander C, Lina H, Gad S, Amir H, Adeeb & Adel, Ashraf, and Steven’s. Lunch at Mina’s, dinner the second time we went to Mikhael’s house. We also went very begrudgingly to the pastor’s house because of Mr. S____. I’ll explain later.
Marina, Saeda’s sister, tried on her mom’s berda, which is a big black robe thing that many of the Christian women have to wear when they go outside—“have to wear” because their husbands say so. They are wearing just as much clothing as the conservative Muslims wear, but just in a different way. Saeda’s mom got married when she was 13. She said she didn’t even know what marriage was. (When we talked to her and Saeda later, they were explaining that you never really think to question your parents. They say, “You’re going to be engaged to this guy.” You say, “Okay.” No big deal. Such is life.) She is now 36. She said (and this is all through translation) that she is in such bad shape now that she wouldn’t be able to walk to the main road. She gets tired going up her stairs. Why is she in such bad shape? Because she hardly ever can leave the house. She is upset that Saeda is not engaged yet. Saeda though she’d be engaged by 15 or 16 and married at 18 until she came to NUA and felt her eyes were opened. Her mom is upset and wants her to be engaged, but her dad thinks it’s good and wants her to finish school. (Thank God that he seems to be pretty progressive.) Mina’s aunt and grandma cooked for us. They weren’t allowed to go in certain parts of the house in case men walked by and saw them. Then his uncle would have shouted. The men sat around and joked and were served, or so it appeared (but I acknowledge that we came here to see mostly guys) while the women served them. This is such a man’s world. It made me depressed. This is where Mina grew up before he moved to Alexandria, but he said he cannot stay here when I asked how he preferred things after he explained some things about the women. Gad’s brother got married August 4. He works in Kuwait, and his beautiful young wife lives alone in a beautiful house. Her name is Wafa’. She is beautiful. She must be 18 or so. She was talkative and sweet and fun, though she didn’t speak a word of English. She asked us to stay with her. I think we will Wednesday night. –Oh no! I hear a spoon stirring in a glass outside the door… more tea? Hibiscus? Lord, please no! I drank 9 sodas, 3 cups of juice, and 2 cups of tea today in addition to three gigantic meals. I almost threw up. –Anyway, I feel so bad for cute little pregnant Wafa’ because she’s only a kid. And she’s lonely and her husband works in Kuwait. I think we will have a good time staying w/ her. I know more Arabic than anyone in our group, and we can make do w/ that. Maybe God will use us in her life. Al Humdolillah.
This is Priscila wearing a berda at Ibrahim's house with his aunt and grandma. She is showing more here than a woman on the street would. They house the headscarf part mostly closed in front of their faces.
Oh, when we first got to Saeda’s house just after 6am, Marina walked down the stairs of the animal room/area (?) from the bedrooms holding her 1 ½ year old brother Mosa. Priscila was in front of me and went to touch him to say hi, but she jumped a little. I looked, and in his hand was a black pigeon that he was clutching by the wings.
I’m not sitting on Saeda’s bed. We’re talking about life here. She said before NUA, she was a “blind cat” (expression in Arabic). I am SO endlessly thankful that she is at NUA. She and the other girls. There are so many beautiful, smart, fun women trapped away. In the house, they do joke and seem comfortable, which is a relief to me.
If any change happens it has to be because Zewakese men buck the system. Saeda said she wished our love and marriage class was taught here. Ha! They would beat me to death--not sure if that’s an exaggeration or not… But it has to start with a Zewakese man. Lord, have mercy.
We went to a meeting at the SDA church tonight, and Yesa Mosa (Maryam’s brother) is the pastor. There is still the wall between the men and women’s sides of the church. They sang enthusiastically and that made me happy. Then he welcomed the guest from Nile Union Academy. “Shukran.” (Thank you.) Then he said that they were going to have one of the teachers from NUA speak to them. We all looked around at each other. No one volunteered, so I gave two impromptu sermons. My first one apparently wasn’t long enough, so I had to talk about something else.
This was taken at the SDA church in Zewak. It's the SMs with some of the students, one of the elders, and some kids.
I have a LOT more I want to write about, so I will update again as soon as I get the chance.
This is the food that we ate at Steven's house. Egyptians make so much food that you can never eat more than half of it. In Tatalyah, the tables were so filled food that there was nowhere to put all of the bowls.
Friday, October 26, 2012
My Life Here
I took this picture out the window of the microbus yesterday afternoon. It just gives you a small idea of what it looks like outside the walls of the school
This is Wasseem and Mario - they are two of the "squirrels" in ESL. They're both from the village of Dahasa. Wasseem absolutely loves to sing. It's so cute. They're both very outgoing and work hard for their grades. A sponsor has been found for Mario. I'm still looking for one for Wasseem. His father died, and that makes it very difficult for the families in a patriarchal culture. I wish he was smiling naturally here. His smile is SO big and really sweet.
These are the ESL students' memory verse books. They get a new memory verse every week. Some of them are artistic, and some, as you can see, are the stereotypical guys who couldn't care less about aesthetics and crafts. At the very beginning, they understood almost nothing in English, so I drew a picture on the board of a book and tried my best to explain that we were making a book and they would add a new page every week... but for some reason many of them got the idea that I wanted them to draw a picture of a book on the front of their book... haha. Oh well.
The senior class planned a day where they arranged for all of their classes to be outside. They also all dressed up nicely in black and white and then ate a special lunch outside together--chicken! I love the class spirit. They're so much more unified than when they were in ninth grade.
Meet our Student Association! Jackline (treasurer), Peter (vice president), and Ashraf (president). I agreed to be the SA sponsor, and I was worried about having to follow up with them a lot and remind them of their responsibilities, etc, but they have surprised me with their dedication foresight. I'm really proud of them. I'm also proud of the student body because the tenth grade class president and the girls' representative (new position thanks to Ashraf!) are both Sudanese. The wall between Sudanese and Egyptian has come down so much in the last few years.
The Student Association sponsored a trip for the students on a Saturday night to go on a Nile Cruise for a couple hours. We had a talent night on the boat, so this picture is of Chol, Deng aka "Shibly," and Steven rapping about NUA. Steven's was in Arabic, so it sounded pretty cool.
Joseph (ESL) and Joseph (10th grade)
A soccer team from an outside Sudanese school came to play our boys. Soccer is a huge deal here. It's the main sport in Egypt (and in the world), unlike the US, which has many different sports that are a big deal... which makes none of them really as big of a deal as soccer here. We won!
Me at the Bent Pyramid in Dahshur. The angle changes from 54 degrees (I believe) to 45 degrees halfway through. It is believed that the pyramid may have collapsed had they continued at the same angle. This one is older than the pyramids of Giza.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
I am cayada. God's love is deep.
On Sunday night I walked back to my house and saw two students there who come and ask for help sometimes. I did not have the time to help them then and didn’t feel like telling them I couldn’t. But this time they didn’t want help. One is a boy in ESL named Ashraf. His English is pretty poor for his class. He was a day student earlier, and I think he was just overwhelmed and didn’t try. He then moved into the dorm and seems happier and more motivated. I’d started tutoring him during study hall every once in a while—oh his English was SO bad. He knew next to nothing. He has been showing improvement though, so I’m glad that he’s not completely in over his head. Anyway, Ashraf had a bag in his hand and had Sameh translate for him. Ashraf said that he had been very discouraged and wanted to leave NUA, but then I talked to him and helped him and he felt encouraged because he knows he has a sister here. He gave me the bag, and in it was a little statue of St. George holding a lamb. Different. But really sweet. Sameh had asked for my picture a while ago—I wasn’t sure for what. But on Sunday night he gave me a black mug. He told me to boil water, so I did. When I poured it in the mug, my picture appeared on the side of it. It was really sweet for him to go out of his way like that. He was really proud of it too. He is very good, but I have to pray for patience with him sometimes.
I had a good conversation with a tenth grader named Mina yesterday. Last week he had brought up the idea Heaven will be boring. I’ve explained to him that all his mind can wrap around is what he knows here and now, but he has absolutely no concept of Heaven. From there we started talking about hellfire and how long it lasts. And I showed him several verses and explained that eternal suffering is still eternal life and that it’s the punishment that lasts forever, but not the suffering. We jumped around to different topics and questions that he’s never found satisfactory answers to. I was really thankful for the wrestling with God and the Bible that I went through in high school because now I feel much more capable and comfortable answering difficult questions. I feel prepared and I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have to struggle myself. But beyond the moderate satisfaction he got to his answers, I realized that he falls in the same category as so many people in the world. They believe they are always messing up, which means they’re constantly letting God down. They know that God “loves” them, but it is different than any other relationship they have, so “love” is kind of undefined. They believe they’re going to be lost anyway, so they just accept it and enjoy their lives here and now. I told him of God’s incredible love for him—in the most realistic way I could express it—and I told him what grace means and how he cannot do anything to make God love him any more or less. Even the “good” people are not righteous enough for God’s standards, but that’s okay because Jesus’ blood covers us. Humdolillah. One of the other boys that’s a lot like him, Mavdy, came over and listened and then asked some questions. I was so thankful that he was there. There are many of these guys here that are free thinkers, very quick thinkers, somewhat naturally rebellious, and really enjoy their friends. They do tend to get in more trouble, but they’re good guys. Personality Dimensions-wise, they’re pretty green-orange or orange-green (NT & SP for Myers-Briggs). But they’re so good. And I really appreciate them. And because of their natural bucking against authority, they feel like God must also be disappointed and annoyed with them too. Doignadsiofn! (“For You created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful; I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13,14 BOOM!) I told Mina to come to me when he has questions, and he seemed pleased with that. Humdolillah. I’m thankful to be here.
I’ve been pretty excited about my junior and senior Bible classes. There is no subject I’d rather teach than Bible. We just went through a good study about what the Bible says about dancing because they had questions about it, especially in regard to the school’s policy. I feel like I helped them to feel empowered, hopefully like they could study things on their own. Or maybe know how to go about studying things. After break, we’re getting into talking about marriage. I feel like Mrs. Peterson, my own high school bible teacher. I was talking to some girls tonight, and they mentioned something about a man hitting a woman. I seemed to give off a strong opinion, and that sparked a conversation. They said that it’s so easy and common for a man to hit his wife, especially in Upper Egypt. When he does that, it kind of asserts his authority and makes him like a man. I said that God gave him a bigger body and stronger muscles to do good—to protect her—not to use them against her. And if he isn’t responsible enough to be a man, he should probably lose his man parts… But that would mean just about all of their dads would be eunuchs. One of the girls was saying that a man will hit his wife so hard that she’ll fall to the ground—and I am sure she is speaking from her own family experiences. Then the girls started talking about how you can’t trust men because they act one way, and then when they get married they become completely different people. Saeda said that her aunt was engaged to someone who had said that she wouldn’t have to wear this big black thing (the Christian equivalent of Muslim-woman clothes, where instead of putting it on your head, you have to hold it over you and hold open a small slit in the front to see through). After they got married he started hitting her and insisted that she wore the black thing. I am going to be teaching them very much in depth about red flags in dating and about domestic violence. The girls were so pleased with America when they learned that a person can be sent to jail for hitting his wife. Saeda said that a guy here at the school hit his girlfriend, and the girlfriend just accepted it. Saeda said that if that is happening when they’re only dating, it will get much worse in marriage—I was very proud of her insight. I pray that these precious girls would be physically safe in the future and that the guys that they end up with would treat them well. They’re so sweet. And I pray that the guys would be self-aware enough to recognize where their anger is coming from and how to go about handling it. These guys are good. There is a lot of aggression—it’s a very aggressive culture in general—but I know many of the guys very deeply. And I believe that if the students are taught good things, they can improve much. The same goes for raising kids. I believe that most parents have good intentions. Many of them just don’t know how to go about doing things—or they have never seen a good example, so they’re doing the best for what they know. I’m very much looking forward to teaching them what to look for in a person—good things and red flags, fundamental differences between men and women, and principles for raising children. “Nanny 911” is my favorite show, so I’m going to use clips from that show to illustrate my points. May God give them wisdom and guidance.
There is a word in Arabic called “cayad” (or “cayada” for females), and it describes someone who like to make people angry. Said in anger, it is an insult. Otherwise it’s okay. I really really enjoy being cayada. I am not exactly sure why, but I get so much pleasure from being intentionally irritating or difficult. A friend told me on skype the other night, “I was thinking the other day, you’re the closest thing to a bully I’ve ever had.” I don’t know why I am so proud of that. Anyway, now you understand cayada.
I’m learning more Arabic. I’m trying to be intentional about it. I can understand more than last time, so I’m happy about that. I’ve also been better at putting sentences together. Yesterday the senior class president, Peter (who was one of my good friends when I was here last time) made an announcement in Arabic to the seniors about how they’re going to play the staff in volleyball and to wear red. When he was finished, I went up to him and said in a cayada voice, “I am going to wear aHmar (red) tomorrow.” “Ya miss, no.” “Yes. I am going to wear aHmar. All the staff will wear aHmar.” “No, you cannot!” And I just beamed at him. We played a couple hours ago. Both teams were wearing “aHmar.”
They all just left for home leave. There is a Muslim feast on Friday where they slaughter tons and tons of animals—beautiful sight—and school is cancelled then and for the next week. We’re going to see some stuff around Cairo, and then next week I am going with some others to visit students in Zewak and Tatalaya (near Asyut, for those of you familiar with Egyptian geography). I am really looking forward to it. I pray that the students would all be safe. We take praying for traveling mercies very seriously ever since the microbus accident two years ago.
Love you all.
I had a good conversation with a tenth grader named Mina yesterday. Last week he had brought up the idea Heaven will be boring. I’ve explained to him that all his mind can wrap around is what he knows here and now, but he has absolutely no concept of Heaven. From there we started talking about hellfire and how long it lasts. And I showed him several verses and explained that eternal suffering is still eternal life and that it’s the punishment that lasts forever, but not the suffering. We jumped around to different topics and questions that he’s never found satisfactory answers to. I was really thankful for the wrestling with God and the Bible that I went through in high school because now I feel much more capable and comfortable answering difficult questions. I feel prepared and I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have to struggle myself. But beyond the moderate satisfaction he got to his answers, I realized that he falls in the same category as so many people in the world. They believe they are always messing up, which means they’re constantly letting God down. They know that God “loves” them, but it is different than any other relationship they have, so “love” is kind of undefined. They believe they’re going to be lost anyway, so they just accept it and enjoy their lives here and now. I told him of God’s incredible love for him—in the most realistic way I could express it—and I told him what grace means and how he cannot do anything to make God love him any more or less. Even the “good” people are not righteous enough for God’s standards, but that’s okay because Jesus’ blood covers us. Humdolillah. One of the other boys that’s a lot like him, Mavdy, came over and listened and then asked some questions. I was so thankful that he was there. There are many of these guys here that are free thinkers, very quick thinkers, somewhat naturally rebellious, and really enjoy their friends. They do tend to get in more trouble, but they’re good guys. Personality Dimensions-wise, they’re pretty green-orange or orange-green (NT & SP for Myers-Briggs). But they’re so good. And I really appreciate them. And because of their natural bucking against authority, they feel like God must also be disappointed and annoyed with them too. Doignadsiofn! (“For You created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful; I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13,14 BOOM!) I told Mina to come to me when he has questions, and he seemed pleased with that. Humdolillah. I’m thankful to be here.
I’ve been pretty excited about my junior and senior Bible classes. There is no subject I’d rather teach than Bible. We just went through a good study about what the Bible says about dancing because they had questions about it, especially in regard to the school’s policy. I feel like I helped them to feel empowered, hopefully like they could study things on their own. Or maybe know how to go about studying things. After break, we’re getting into talking about marriage. I feel like Mrs. Peterson, my own high school bible teacher. I was talking to some girls tonight, and they mentioned something about a man hitting a woman. I seemed to give off a strong opinion, and that sparked a conversation. They said that it’s so easy and common for a man to hit his wife, especially in Upper Egypt. When he does that, it kind of asserts his authority and makes him like a man. I said that God gave him a bigger body and stronger muscles to do good—to protect her—not to use them against her. And if he isn’t responsible enough to be a man, he should probably lose his man parts… But that would mean just about all of their dads would be eunuchs. One of the girls was saying that a man will hit his wife so hard that she’ll fall to the ground—and I am sure she is speaking from her own family experiences. Then the girls started talking about how you can’t trust men because they act one way, and then when they get married they become completely different people. Saeda said that her aunt was engaged to someone who had said that she wouldn’t have to wear this big black thing (the Christian equivalent of Muslim-woman clothes, where instead of putting it on your head, you have to hold it over you and hold open a small slit in the front to see through). After they got married he started hitting her and insisted that she wore the black thing. I am going to be teaching them very much in depth about red flags in dating and about domestic violence. The girls were so pleased with America when they learned that a person can be sent to jail for hitting his wife. Saeda said that a guy here at the school hit his girlfriend, and the girlfriend just accepted it. Saeda said that if that is happening when they’re only dating, it will get much worse in marriage—I was very proud of her insight. I pray that these precious girls would be physically safe in the future and that the guys that they end up with would treat them well. They’re so sweet. And I pray that the guys would be self-aware enough to recognize where their anger is coming from and how to go about handling it. These guys are good. There is a lot of aggression—it’s a very aggressive culture in general—but I know many of the guys very deeply. And I believe that if the students are taught good things, they can improve much. The same goes for raising kids. I believe that most parents have good intentions. Many of them just don’t know how to go about doing things—or they have never seen a good example, so they’re doing the best for what they know. I’m very much looking forward to teaching them what to look for in a person—good things and red flags, fundamental differences between men and women, and principles for raising children. “Nanny 911” is my favorite show, so I’m going to use clips from that show to illustrate my points. May God give them wisdom and guidance.
There is a word in Arabic called “cayad” (or “cayada” for females), and it describes someone who like to make people angry. Said in anger, it is an insult. Otherwise it’s okay. I really really enjoy being cayada. I am not exactly sure why, but I get so much pleasure from being intentionally irritating or difficult. A friend told me on skype the other night, “I was thinking the other day, you’re the closest thing to a bully I’ve ever had.” I don’t know why I am so proud of that. Anyway, now you understand cayada.
I’m learning more Arabic. I’m trying to be intentional about it. I can understand more than last time, so I’m happy about that. I’ve also been better at putting sentences together. Yesterday the senior class president, Peter (who was one of my good friends when I was here last time) made an announcement in Arabic to the seniors about how they’re going to play the staff in volleyball and to wear red. When he was finished, I went up to him and said in a cayada voice, “I am going to wear aHmar (red) tomorrow.” “Ya miss, no.” “Yes. I am going to wear aHmar. All the staff will wear aHmar.” “No, you cannot!” And I just beamed at him. We played a couple hours ago. Both teams were wearing “aHmar.”
Love you all.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
I am rich.
I was at Pastor Tom and Gladys' house tonight with Austin and Jeff, and we were deciding where to go for the upcoming break. We want to visit some students' villages and do some other things. We were talking about who lived where and where we could stay, and there were some that they said we should not stay with. Why? Because the families are too poor, and it would just wipe them out to have American guests stay at their houses. I have such a hard time taking from them anyway (though I want to please them by accepting their generosity), but taking so much from their families just hurts. There are so many students with so little money. One family apparently had the door on their refrigerator break, so it was/is(?) leaning against the fridge for months because they couldn't afford to fix it. The dad works so hard for that family. Just thinking about how much these people need makes me embarrassed of how much I have. I want to give more than I receive. I pray that God would help me to be selfless. Who am I to be born into such a good family and to have so much? I have carpet, air conditioning, a freezer, microwave, bed, good pillow. I have lots of clothes, though it doesn't feel like a lot sometimes. I am so blessed, and that the realization makes me feel very restless.
Pastor Tom said that there is at least one person crying in his office every day about not being able to pay their school bill. There are so many people in need. If you are able to help anyone, let me know. I will give you information about the student and a picture. Even $20/month is very helpful. Feel free to email me.
"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and in everything give thanks..." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Pastor Tom said that there is at least one person crying in his office every day about not being able to pay their school bill. There are so many people in need. If you are able to help anyone, let me know. I will give you information about the student and a picture. Even $20/month is very helpful. Feel free to email me.
"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and in everything give thanks..." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
I'm proud of them.
Sabbath, October 13, 2012 2:00pm
Things have been busy but good lately. I am so proud of the ESL students because they understand so much more than when they first got here just over a month ago. Some had panicked faces when I asked their names at the beginning of the year, and now they can understand quite a bit of what I’m saying if I use very simple vocabulary, hand motions, and an occasional Arabic word.
I’m having a hard time with the idea of leaving in December. I am supposed to go home to my normal life and just continue. And my core resists that intensely—not the going home part, but the part that is me just moving on as if none of this exists. My best comparison is to an ended relationship. It hurts incredibly deeply to leave, but you know that you must find a new normal. And knowing that time heals is fiercely bittersweet because you want to be okay, but the thought of not being as close to someone or something that was once your world is such a broken thought. “Broken” meaning, messed up… or not the way that things were supposed to be. Coming home is inevitable, and I love home. I miss home. But I just don’t want to let this go. How in the world will I let go? This whole world is here. And it’s not just a person or two. It’s 160 plus the ones that have finished or dropped out plus the sound of the mosques and the donkeys and the familiar hallways and smells. I hold on to things very deeply, and it’s hard for me to let go. But I will. Enough, that is.
Bassem is a senior that I taught in ninth grade. I have always liked him, but he hasn’t always been the easiest student. He seemed pent up with deep thoughts and emotions, and just unsettled and angry. It comes very naturally to me to see and believe that there is a lot of good in people, or at least the potential for good. I’m very thankful that God has given me an empathetic heart, and Bassem has always had a special place in my heart. Anyway, I remember that in ninth grade, he was assigned to work with another student in class, and they were having some sort of a scuffle and were both too proud to do a class-related activity together that they preferred to be sent to the principal. Stupid. The other night I was talking to Gladys, and I was saying that I was so proud of him because he seems much more mature than he used to and he was up front translating for Pastor Tom. She said that he has changed so much and that one time he reacted in some positive and unexpected way. Pastor Tom asked him, “Bassem, what happened to you? Where did you learn that?” “From you.” Tears just rushed to Pastor Tom’s eyes.
It’s times like that that make up for the illogical student who stands up to give a contradictory diatribe about how the teacher is unfair followed by a standing ovation from the rest of the class. It’s times like that that make up for ESL boys trying to fight, having to be held back by other classmates the one time that we go outside to sing songs and do something different for Bible class.
After study hall in the ad building, I was by the water fountain by one of my eleventh grade students. I felt like I should stay and connect with him just for a second by asking him how he was doing in a tone like I actually wanted to know. He said he was fine and told me that he was so excited when he heard that I was coming back because he had heard from the other students who had had me before that I was a nice and good teacher. That surprised me but made me feel good, especially since this guy and I don’t really connect in class at all. He came to me the next night after punching a wall. So I took care of his hand, and tried to talk to be as understanding as I could. I asked him what he does when he’s angry and some other questions. I asked him if he talks to anybody. He told me that he’s not really close to anyone here. I told him that I would listen if ever he needed someone. And he smiled at me. And I felt his trust.
There’s a girl in ESL here who bothered me at first. She wears smoky eye makeup and in the rare times that she would make eye contact, she would close here eyes halfway like someone next to a bonfire and her head would ever so slightly bobble around. What are you doing? I spent a while trying to figure out if there was something wrong with her or if she was just strange like that. Her English is probably the worst in the entire class. And her shyness and insecurity are obnoxious in that she almost refuses to try to understand English and will ask questions through other people. She didn’t want to say something out loud in Arabic but wanted to speak through a friend. I told her no. While seeing other sick girls in the dorm, I have had the opportunity to connect with her. We don’t talk at all because her English is just as bad as ever (poor thing is about to drown…), but she makes eye contact with me and smiles. She likes me. I love her.
With my juniors and seniors I have been teaching them about confrontation and about self-defeating habits. I taught them how to use I-Statements (I feel…, It hurt me when…, etc.), to not use superlatives (always, never, everyone, all the time, etc), and some other things. One boy told me very frankly that he wasn’t going to use any of this stuff in real life but is just studying to pass the class. I told him that that’s fine because it’s now in his head, and he will benefit greatly from just being aware of it. I worry about this student a lot. He so much trapped inside of him. He’s just a big ball of hurt, and I don’t know what happened, but I want him to be okay. Hopefully God can use me to help him. I feel like the forgiveness part of our class will be incredibly difficult but potentially groundbreaking.
Things have been busy but good lately. I am so proud of the ESL students because they understand so much more than when they first got here just over a month ago. Some had panicked faces when I asked their names at the beginning of the year, and now they can understand quite a bit of what I’m saying if I use very simple vocabulary, hand motions, and an occasional Arabic word.
I’m having a hard time with the idea of leaving in December. I am supposed to go home to my normal life and just continue. And my core resists that intensely—not the going home part, but the part that is me just moving on as if none of this exists. My best comparison is to an ended relationship. It hurts incredibly deeply to leave, but you know that you must find a new normal. And knowing that time heals is fiercely bittersweet because you want to be okay, but the thought of not being as close to someone or something that was once your world is such a broken thought. “Broken” meaning, messed up… or not the way that things were supposed to be. Coming home is inevitable, and I love home. I miss home. But I just don’t want to let this go. How in the world will I let go? This whole world is here. And it’s not just a person or two. It’s 160 plus the ones that have finished or dropped out plus the sound of the mosques and the donkeys and the familiar hallways and smells. I hold on to things very deeply, and it’s hard for me to let go. But I will. Enough, that is.
Bassem is a senior that I taught in ninth grade. I have always liked him, but he hasn’t always been the easiest student. He seemed pent up with deep thoughts and emotions, and just unsettled and angry. It comes very naturally to me to see and believe that there is a lot of good in people, or at least the potential for good. I’m very thankful that God has given me an empathetic heart, and Bassem has always had a special place in my heart. Anyway, I remember that in ninth grade, he was assigned to work with another student in class, and they were having some sort of a scuffle and were both too proud to do a class-related activity together that they preferred to be sent to the principal. Stupid. The other night I was talking to Gladys, and I was saying that I was so proud of him because he seems much more mature than he used to and he was up front translating for Pastor Tom. She said that he has changed so much and that one time he reacted in some positive and unexpected way. Pastor Tom asked him, “Bassem, what happened to you? Where did you learn that?” “From you.” Tears just rushed to Pastor Tom’s eyes.
It’s times like that that make up for the illogical student who stands up to give a contradictory diatribe about how the teacher is unfair followed by a standing ovation from the rest of the class. It’s times like that that make up for ESL boys trying to fight, having to be held back by other classmates the one time that we go outside to sing songs and do something different for Bible class.
After study hall in the ad building, I was by the water fountain by one of my eleventh grade students. I felt like I should stay and connect with him just for a second by asking him how he was doing in a tone like I actually wanted to know. He said he was fine and told me that he was so excited when he heard that I was coming back because he had heard from the other students who had had me before that I was a nice and good teacher. That surprised me but made me feel good, especially since this guy and I don’t really connect in class at all. He came to me the next night after punching a wall. So I took care of his hand, and tried to talk to be as understanding as I could. I asked him what he does when he’s angry and some other questions. I asked him if he talks to anybody. He told me that he’s not really close to anyone here. I told him that I would listen if ever he needed someone. And he smiled at me. And I felt his trust.
There’s a girl in ESL here who bothered me at first. She wears smoky eye makeup and in the rare times that she would make eye contact, she would close here eyes halfway like someone next to a bonfire and her head would ever so slightly bobble around. What are you doing? I spent a while trying to figure out if there was something wrong with her or if she was just strange like that. Her English is probably the worst in the entire class. And her shyness and insecurity are obnoxious in that she almost refuses to try to understand English and will ask questions through other people. She didn’t want to say something out loud in Arabic but wanted to speak through a friend. I told her no. While seeing other sick girls in the dorm, I have had the opportunity to connect with her. We don’t talk at all because her English is just as bad as ever (poor thing is about to drown…), but she makes eye contact with me and smiles. She likes me. I love her.
With my juniors and seniors I have been teaching them about confrontation and about self-defeating habits. I taught them how to use I-Statements (I feel…, It hurt me when…, etc.), to not use superlatives (always, never, everyone, all the time, etc), and some other things. One boy told me very frankly that he wasn’t going to use any of this stuff in real life but is just studying to pass the class. I told him that that’s fine because it’s now in his head, and he will benefit greatly from just being aware of it. I worry about this student a lot. He so much trapped inside of him. He’s just a big ball of hurt, and I don’t know what happened, but I want him to be okay. Hopefully God can use me to help him. I feel like the forgiveness part of our class will be incredibly difficult but potentially groundbreaking.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Dessert
Most Egyptian desserts are gross. I said it. Most are sticky and shiny and syrupy. It's just too much for me. Every Sabbath for lunch the cafeteria serves basboosa, which is somewhat like a cake that has been saturated in syrup. I'm not sure it's possible for it to be sweeter than it is. Bethany mentioned one recipe that had syrup that was two cups of sugar and one cup of water. There is also a dessert that was compared to hair when it was first introduced to me. Oh, yes, now I want to eat your dessert. Now that you have compared it to hair. I haven't had that since I've been in Egypt this time, probably because I haven't left the school very much.
I feel like I have permission to rag on Egyptian desserts because they don't seem to like American desserts very well either. Taylor made apple fritters a couple weeks ago. She gave one to Mary, our Egyptian housemate. And when she saw that Mary was leaving to meet up with one of the students (Mina), Taylor gave her another one to bring out to him. She said to tell him that she made it. Then she added, "And if it's bad, Sara made it." I watched out the window for a second to see if I could see Mina's reaction. My eyes aren't very good and he was at least a hundred feet from our villa, so I didn't think I'd be able to see his facial expression. I didn't see his face, but I did see him take a huge step forward and upchuck whatever was in his mouth into the cornfield across the dirt road from our villa. I don't like the word "upchuck," but I couldn't think of another word to describe how fast he did it and how far he projected it. The verdict: I made the apple fritters.
Taylor made shortbread the other night, and two of the students that tried it seemed like they could barely keep it down, and the other one that was at our house was too scared to try it. So I guess things are mutual.
I feel like I have permission to rag on Egyptian desserts because they don't seem to like American desserts very well either. Taylor made apple fritters a couple weeks ago. She gave one to Mary, our Egyptian housemate. And when she saw that Mary was leaving to meet up with one of the students (Mina), Taylor gave her another one to bring out to him. She said to tell him that she made it. Then she added, "And if it's bad, Sara made it." I watched out the window for a second to see if I could see Mina's reaction. My eyes aren't very good and he was at least a hundred feet from our villa, so I didn't think I'd be able to see his facial expression. I didn't see his face, but I did see him take a huge step forward and upchuck whatever was in his mouth into the cornfield across the dirt road from our villa. I don't like the word "upchuck," but I couldn't think of another word to describe how fast he did it and how far he projected it. The verdict: I made the apple fritters.
Taylor made shortbread the other night, and two of the students that tried it seemed like they could barely keep it down, and the other one that was at our house was too scared to try it. So I guess things are mutual.
Love.
I’m thinking of things to do with my 11th and 12th graders for their marriage and family class. We're spending a good chunk of the beginning to help them understand themselves, each other, and how to have functional relationships in general. I was just looking through the EQ and Your Child book that Krista gave me before I came here, and I was going through the section about self-affirmation. In some activities they were supposed to write what they like about themselves, in others, other people affirm them. There was one where they each had a pretty piece of paper with a nice border and they would write their name in the middle. Then everyone in the family was supposed to pass the papers in one direction and write two things that they like about whoever’s paper they had. They would continue until they got their own paper back. And I was thinking about which activities could work and which wouldn’t and maybe I could combine activities, or maybe I should do something else before another one. And all of a sudden my eyes started to sting and I got that feeling like my heart was higher in my chest than normal. And I realized that I just want that for my students so badly. I want them to know just how wonderful they are. Even just a glimpse of God’s love for them could change their lives. No, they’re not perfect. I’m not perfect. But they are so precious to me. And their roots have been combined with their story and their personality and their choices, and… I don’t even know. I am very much in my heart right now. And I feel very thankful that God has given me this deep love for them because sometimes I forget that it’s there. But more importantly, I have a better understanding of His love and why He stays and why He forgives and why He disciplines and why He orchestrates. No two people are the same. Everyone is able to be known and studied and loved deeply.
(Irrelevant side note: I realized then when I speak about things I am passionate about I use less commas and more “ands.” Maybe I don’t want any intentional word to be lost in a list.)
(Irrelevant side note: I realized then when I speak about things I am passionate about I use less commas and more “ands.” Maybe I don’t want any intentional word to be lost in a list.)
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Bugs, Money, and Lovely Students
I took this picture out the window of a microbus while driving from the school to the metro station.
I cleaned lizard poop off my kitchen floor this morning. That's a new one. He lives under the fridge. I don't really mind because he's not crawling on me, and he probably eats bugs in our kitchen.
I love all of the students--even the ones I don't know--but there are a couple of the ESL students that make me so excited to be around. There are two that are really tiny and excitable, and if I had a papoose, I'd wear them on my back. One boy is named Akram. (He's the one who broke his arm a couple weeks ago.) There is a retired couple teaching here, Chuck and Janet Schlunt, and last night Janet told me that every day Akram asks how old she is. She said she tells him 600. I laugh every time I think of that. He speaks so little English, that it probably took him a while to understand what she said. Akram, his giant casted arm, and another ESL boy named Ghandy (same name as Ghandi, but pronounced more like "Randy"), were raking our front "yard" this morning. I tried to tell Akram that Mrs. Janet told me that story. I said very clearly and slowly, "Mrs. Janet said every day you ask her, 'How old are you?'" He responded, "I'm fine, thanks." I said, "Mrs. Janet told me that every day you say to her, 'Andik kem sena?'" He answered, "Sixteen." First of all, I'd put money on you not being sixteen because when we were at the doctor I heard you answer, "I don't know. Sixteen." Secondly, you look twelve. Third, I wasn't asking you how old you were. Eventually he got it though. He is so cute.
Yesterday afternoon I was called to come to the girls' dorm because one of the students had somehow cut her foot open in the cafeteria. The girls' dean, Ms. Janet, had cleaned it and wrapped it, but eventually the bandage was soaked with blood. Ron and I went to the dorm, and the cut was deeper than I had been led to believe, but it definitely wasn't as bad as it could have been. I cleaned it with betadine, and Ron held the skin together as I put wound closure strips on it. This poor little girl was trying to keep it together but couldn't, so she cried into her friend's shoulder. Then we wrapped it up and asked her if she had a clean cotton sock to put over it. She didn't, so Ron went home and got one for her. I'm still occasionally surprised by how little some of the students have. What would it be like to not have a sock? I slept at the girls' dorm last night, and they were SO cute and acted so honored that I was there. They treated me with the typical Egyptian hospitality. As I was leaving this morning, a girl was walking to the dorm, and her flip flop ("ship ship") was broken. I made some comment about it in passing, and she said she didn't have any other ones. I take so much for granted. And part of me doesn't know any better because I don't know any differently, but it's good to have my eyes opened. When we took Akram to the doctor for an x-ray of his arm and the doctor said it was broken, he cried a little bit. I thought that maybe the idea of that was just scary to him and he didn't want a cast, but I would guess that a part of that is also for financial reasons. The doctor's visits, x-ray, medicine, and cast supplies cost him about 160 pounds (about $26). The most that one of the students can make in one hour of work on campus is 2.50 LE (~$0.41), and most of them don't make that. I asked Akram, and he said his father is a farmer, and I know that the farmers don't make very much money.
Just now I smashed a beetle between my sheets. Good time to change them, I guess. The bugs are nothing like they were when I was here last. At one point I had had 170 mosquito bites on one leg. My legs looked like I had small pox. We used to sleep with sweatshirts on and tie the hood as tightly as we could over our heads so that they couldn't bite our foreheads or buzz in our ears while we were trying to sleep. They're nowhere near as bad this time. I know that every once in a while, some shady truck drives in and sprays stuff around the campus. Not ideal, but I guess better that way. Fortunately malaria isn't a problem around here. I did wake up at about 3:30 this morning while sleeping in the dorm because I was maniacally scratching my legs and ankles. But that has been the extent of it.
There is an eleventh grade student that I have known since he was in ESL. He is and always has been incredibly motivated to learn and has very much stood out among the students. He is quiet and thoughtful and very considerate. He loves vocabulary and has excitedly brought me big lists of words for me to explain to him. It seemed like he got them straight out of the dictionary. When I came back to visit when he was in ninth grade, I remember that some of the words were "premenstrual" and "prophylaxis." I laughed to myself. It would have been inappropriate and really awkward for him if I told him what premenstrual meant. I don't remember what I said. He really has a love for learning. Anyway, he recently dropped one of his more difficult classes, and when Mrs. Gladys asked why, he told her that he doesn't have time to study. Through further questioning she figured out that he works three jobs on campus so that he can afford to be here. There are some students at NUA that I would feel comfortable raising money for or sponsoring myself, but I can't think of another student I would advocate for more than I would for this student. He has worked very hard as long as I have known him and will definitely make something of himself. He has a very good heart. If there is anyone reading this who would be willing to help sponsor him, please let me know and I'd be happy to tell you more about him. Any amount at all--even $10-20/month would help tremendously.
Please pray for one student who was expelled this past week. He allegedly violated one of the no-tolerance policies at the school. ("Allegedly" is not implying doubt.) I think that he is a good kid. It is always sad having students leave because there's no real way of keeping track of them. And I can't reach them or be a good influence on them or talk to them or even just see how they're doing. Anyway, he was really torn up about it, and I just wish the best for him. And it's too bad because then the last two full years he spent here were a waste because NUA graduates receive an American diploma, not an Egyptian one.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
"He has a fever in his stomach"
I don't have much time, but I thought I'd update briefly. Things have been going well. They've been picking up too. Last night I stopped at the ad building during study hall to get something and was mobbed by sick/supposedly sick students the entire time. I had one boy with chest pain, one with a mysterious rash, lots of sore throats, headaches, congestion, earache, etc. I've recently had a lot of guys with sprained ankles and wrists. They're all too cool to use crutches though.
I've been pretty busy lately. Teaching four classes and being the nurse. But it's good. And I've learned a lot. I went to give one of the boys in ESL medicine in between the classes, and a bunch of the other ESL students came over and were saying they had the flu, etc. ("The flu" to them is apparently anything--fever, congestion, sore throat, headache...?) Taylor said that after I left the class just went crazy. She has the lower end ESL students who hardly speak any English whatsoever. She said they were fake coughing and sneezing and saying, "Miss Sara!" "Ana ruah Miss Sara!" She said that someone "tripped" and fell dramatically on the floor and someone else ran into a desk and toppled onto the floor and acted all hurt. They were making so much noise that the students from the classroom across from hers were all staring to figure out what was going on. It apparently took ten minutes to calm them down and shut them up. I was laughing so hard when she told me, and I'm smiling really big as I type this. How funny is that? "Whoops! I just ran into a desk and fell over"? I avoided study hall at all costs tonight. When I had to go see a couple students for follow up, I went around the back to find them and stayed far far away from the library, where the ESL students are.
Yesterday I had a really meaningful conversation with one of the students I had taught in ninth grade who is now a senior. His English is really good, and he is quiet, thoughtful, and just good. We talked for a while about life and our personalities and worldviews, etc. I haven't had as many deep conversations with students, and I felt like he and I could relate to each other a lot. He told me that when he first came to NUA, he was so nervous and everything was so new to him. He wasn't doing very well in his classes, which was so unlike him. But he said that Jessica and I made him feel like himself again. He just expressed in a very articulate and deep way how much he appreciated us. That made me feel so good. If I look back at my blog posts from 2009, some of those times were the most trying and low times I've ever had. This student told me that he wanted to tell me something. It was only him and me in the staff room at this time, and I hadn't expected it but then was filled with anticipated horror, "Oh no... what if he's going to tell me he's in love with me..." (I've had a couple students tell me that in the past and I really didn't expect that from this one, but I got incredibly nervous and prayed that that wouldn't be it.) Then he said very earnestly, "I own you." Pause. "What?" "I own you." My racing thoughts were trying to interpret that: "Oh no! Is he saying that I belong to him like he's trying to be romantic?! What does that mean?!" And then it clicked. He meant to say, "I owe you." Al humdolillah (Praise be to God.)
Last week, there was a problem with one of the water heaters in the girls' dorm at about 10:30 or 11pm. It was making really loud noises--I'm not sure what was happening exactly, but apparently it was really scary. All the girls ran out of the dorm freaked out. And the heroic boys dashed out of the dorm, running across the center of campus to rescue anyone in need. Crises are handled in two ways here: panicking and fainting. It's a school rule that the girls aren't allowed to faint. There was too much fainting before, so Peggy said that they'll have to see a doctor off campus before they're allowed to come back if they're going to faint. Anyway, a couple girls fainted, and the boys didn't know what to do. Chris, one of the SMs, told some of the confused and worried boys to get her water. To drink. They ran and got the hose and sprayed her down... hahaha! I was taking prayer requests the next day in class, and one of the guys said, "I want to thank God because we were heroes," and he smiled proudly. (He wasn't one who hosed down the girl.)
There are many funny stories. I'm sure that they'd be funnier if you were here with me and knew all the people. Much love to you.
I've been pretty busy lately. Teaching four classes and being the nurse. But it's good. And I've learned a lot. I went to give one of the boys in ESL medicine in between the classes, and a bunch of the other ESL students came over and were saying they had the flu, etc. ("The flu" to them is apparently anything--fever, congestion, sore throat, headache...?) Taylor said that after I left the class just went crazy. She has the lower end ESL students who hardly speak any English whatsoever. She said they were fake coughing and sneezing and saying, "Miss Sara!" "Ana ruah Miss Sara!" She said that someone "tripped" and fell dramatically on the floor and someone else ran into a desk and toppled onto the floor and acted all hurt. They were making so much noise that the students from the classroom across from hers were all staring to figure out what was going on. It apparently took ten minutes to calm them down and shut them up. I was laughing so hard when she told me, and I'm smiling really big as I type this. How funny is that? "Whoops! I just ran into a desk and fell over"? I avoided study hall at all costs tonight. When I had to go see a couple students for follow up, I went around the back to find them and stayed far far away from the library, where the ESL students are.
Yesterday I had a really meaningful conversation with one of the students I had taught in ninth grade who is now a senior. His English is really good, and he is quiet, thoughtful, and just good. We talked for a while about life and our personalities and worldviews, etc. I haven't had as many deep conversations with students, and I felt like he and I could relate to each other a lot. He told me that when he first came to NUA, he was so nervous and everything was so new to him. He wasn't doing very well in his classes, which was so unlike him. But he said that Jessica and I made him feel like himself again. He just expressed in a very articulate and deep way how much he appreciated us. That made me feel so good. If I look back at my blog posts from 2009, some of those times were the most trying and low times I've ever had. This student told me that he wanted to tell me something. It was only him and me in the staff room at this time, and I hadn't expected it but then was filled with anticipated horror, "Oh no... what if he's going to tell me he's in love with me..." (I've had a couple students tell me that in the past and I really didn't expect that from this one, but I got incredibly nervous and prayed that that wouldn't be it.) Then he said very earnestly, "I own you." Pause. "What?" "I own you." My racing thoughts were trying to interpret that: "Oh no! Is he saying that I belong to him like he's trying to be romantic?! What does that mean?!" And then it clicked. He meant to say, "I owe you." Al humdolillah (Praise be to God.)
Last week, there was a problem with one of the water heaters in the girls' dorm at about 10:30 or 11pm. It was making really loud noises--I'm not sure what was happening exactly, but apparently it was really scary. All the girls ran out of the dorm freaked out. And the heroic boys dashed out of the dorm, running across the center of campus to rescue anyone in need. Crises are handled in two ways here: panicking and fainting. It's a school rule that the girls aren't allowed to faint. There was too much fainting before, so Peggy said that they'll have to see a doctor off campus before they're allowed to come back if they're going to faint. Anyway, a couple girls fainted, and the boys didn't know what to do. Chris, one of the SMs, told some of the confused and worried boys to get her water. To drink. They ran and got the hose and sprayed her down... hahaha! I was taking prayer requests the next day in class, and one of the guys said, "I want to thank God because we were heroes," and he smiled proudly. (He wasn't one who hosed down the girl.)
There are many funny stories. I'm sure that they'd be funnier if you were here with me and knew all the people. Much love to you.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
A little heightened
We've been told not to leave the school for a while. The US embassy has been closed for the past couple days due to the protesting. I am praying that God's peace comes to the Arab countries because I fear that this may spread like the revolts in the winter/spring of 2011. Those problems were between the people and the government. This time the problem is anti-American, so that could affect us more directly. Ron Miller, the vice principal and Peggy's husband, said that during the revolution they could hear gunshots going off at random times during the night. He said that people made fires in the roads, and the people that happened to build a fire in front of the school asked if NUA was having any problems and offered to help if anyone was bothering us. There were some people over the wall on the other side of the campus that also offered their help if we needed anything. I believe that Nile Union Academy has a neutral or positive reputation in the town here, which is a very good thing. But I'm not naive enough to feel too confident of that. The sounds outside in the town sound the same, and that's a good thing. There are more protests planned for tomorrow night (Friday). I expect that there might be some tonight as well. Friday is the Muslim holy day, so their weekends here are on Friday and Saturday. So please pray for the safety of the Americans in the Arab countries and for the families of the four who died in the attack on the US embassy in Libya.
I need wisdom for how to go about dealing with a certain issue on campus. I don't have much experience with that, so I hope that I can help the students that are struggling.
Toward the end of my last class today, Pastor Tom came into the room and asked me to come with him, and he was composed, but it seemed urgent. My mind jumped to the worst. He led me in his office and said that the former pastor/boys dean, Isaac, and his family got in a car accident today. Pastor Isaac's brother and sister were in the office on the phone with them. Pastor Tom called me in there in case there was any medical questions I could ask and instructions I could give as they drove to the hospital, which would take them about an hour and a half. They were most concerned with their three year old son Michael, whose nose had been bleeding. From the information I was given, it sounded like the injuries were relatively minor, which is amazing because the car had rolled and they weren't wearing seat belts. God was really looking out for them. They're good people, and I'm just very thankful that they're okay. Ron drove Pastor Isaac's brother and sister to their home village about 4 hours away to go see them. I'm just so thankful they're okay.
I need wisdom for how to go about dealing with a certain issue on campus. I don't have much experience with that, so I hope that I can help the students that are struggling.
Toward the end of my last class today, Pastor Tom came into the room and asked me to come with him, and he was composed, but it seemed urgent. My mind jumped to the worst. He led me in his office and said that the former pastor/boys dean, Isaac, and his family got in a car accident today. Pastor Isaac's brother and sister were in the office on the phone with them. Pastor Tom called me in there in case there was any medical questions I could ask and instructions I could give as they drove to the hospital, which would take them about an hour and a half. They were most concerned with their three year old son Michael, whose nose had been bleeding. From the information I was given, it sounded like the injuries were relatively minor, which is amazing because the car had rolled and they weren't wearing seat belts. God was really looking out for them. They're good people, and I'm just very thankful that they're okay. Ron drove Pastor Isaac's brother and sister to their home village about 4 hours away to go see them. I'm just so thankful they're okay.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Looking for an excuse to see the nurse/Embassy stormed/Rambling nothings.
A student walked up to me and said most awkwardly, "Ya Miss, you had me from hello." Thanks, Taylor. haha. Apparently she said something to him, and he responded, "Don't break my heart, my achey-breaky heart," which he remembered from when I was here last. I'm very proud of most of my footprints. Taylor walked up to the ad building one time, and one of the boys said, "Ya Miss! You are dressed to kill!" and she was completely taken aback. haha. At least they've learned better than what someone told Alec: "Mister, you are dressed like a killer."
Many of the students find reasons and ways to be sick. I think that when Peggy comes back, they won't have such petty complaints. I shouldn't say that for sure because at that point they will be more tired of school. But I know that as of now, many are just looking for excuses to talk to me, so they find something minutely wrong with them. "Oh no... That's too bad... You know, the best thing for that is to rest it when you can..."
http://edition.cnn.com/2012/09/11/world/meast/egpyt-us-embassy-protests/index.html?hpt=hp_t1
The US Embassy was stormed on Tuesday. The American flag was replaced with a black one with Islamic messages on it. It was in protest of the release of a movie that was thought to insult the prophet Mohammed. Which movie is unclear. Bethany, Phil, Austin, and I went into Cairo on Sunday, but since the protesting at the embassy we haven't gone outside the walls of the school. Gabal Asfar is relatively quiet and safe, but we're just being extra careful. In this regard, I wish I was a man and has the freedom to leave when I wanted to. I feel safe here.
Sometimes at night I walk the dirt/sand roads around one of the fields in front of our villa and I just pray. Tonight it was really good for me. God has always been very present with me in Egypt. It has always been good for processing things. I think well at night. I walked at night last time I was here too. Tonight I walked and prayed and felt and thought. The distant sound of honking horns and street noises, the quiet campus, rows of corn, and the familiar paths were healing. Then I listened to "10,000 Reasons" by Matt Redman as I walked. I love that song.
The sound of donkeys braying sounds painful. They sound like they're being strangled, and I don't like it at all. The weather has been really nice lately. Well, today was. Last week I had the familiar disgustingly sweaty lower back. It was like deja vu. But today was really nice.
There's a gecko that lives in my kitchen. I've seen him run under the fridge a few times when I've walked in.
Many of the students find reasons and ways to be sick. I think that when Peggy comes back, they won't have such petty complaints. I shouldn't say that for sure because at that point they will be more tired of school. But I know that as of now, many are just looking for excuses to talk to me, so they find something minutely wrong with them. "Oh no... That's too bad... You know, the best thing for that is to rest it when you can..."
http://edition.cnn.com/2012/09/11/world/meast/egpyt-us-embassy-protests/index.html?hpt=hp_t1
The US Embassy was stormed on Tuesday. The American flag was replaced with a black one with Islamic messages on it. It was in protest of the release of a movie that was thought to insult the prophet Mohammed. Which movie is unclear. Bethany, Phil, Austin, and I went into Cairo on Sunday, but since the protesting at the embassy we haven't gone outside the walls of the school. Gabal Asfar is relatively quiet and safe, but we're just being extra careful. In this regard, I wish I was a man and has the freedom to leave when I wanted to. I feel safe here.
Sometimes at night I walk the dirt/sand roads around one of the fields in front of our villa and I just pray. Tonight it was really good for me. God has always been very present with me in Egypt. It has always been good for processing things. I think well at night. I walked at night last time I was here too. Tonight I walked and prayed and felt and thought. The distant sound of honking horns and street noises, the quiet campus, rows of corn, and the familiar paths were healing. Then I listened to "10,000 Reasons" by Matt Redman as I walked. I love that song.
The sound of donkeys braying sounds painful. They sound like they're being strangled, and I don't like it at all. The weather has been really nice lately. Well, today was. Last week I had the familiar disgustingly sweaty lower back. It was like deja vu. But today was really nice.
There's a gecko that lives in my kitchen. I've seen him run under the fridge a few times when I've walked in.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Second Week of School
This is now the second week of school. Things are going well, and we’re starting to adjust. It’s been the easiest beginning of the year since the Deckers have been here, and it’s their fourth year. There’s just some confusion at the beginning with English and math placement tests.
I could not have charaded the story of creation more than I did with my ESL students. “Firmament” was a fun one. I know next to nothing in Arabic, so I used my hands a lot. “Water” (at the ground), “not water” (in the middle), and “water” (above me, which I then showed as raindrops falling). SaH? (Do you understand?) And I showed water, and then sucked in my cheeks and put my hands to my face like fish gills… Absolutely ridiculous, but it works. I was able to somewhat explain that Eve was taken from the rib meaning that she is not to rule over Adam nor be trampled under him. Today in class I had Saeda, one of the 11th graders translate some more points that I wanted to make sure that they understood. It’s a Bible class, not just an English class where they learn Biblical words, so it’s important to me that they learn about God. There are four girls and 20 boys in the class. The Sudanese students speak pretty good English when they come, but their writing isn’t as good, so unfortunately in classes where all of ESL is together, they have to put up with classes like mine. Unfortunately I am already starting to “speak ESL,” in other words automatically switching one big word for several little ones and being more expressive to get my point across. The students are so cute! I can’t even stand it sometimes! There are some boys that are 14-ish, but they look like they’re 10. And they have skinny, linear little bodies and eyes that are full of light and high little voices. Taylor described one as “half squirrel” because he has a skinny little body, round face, and is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. And the ESL students haven’t learned the rules/ways at NUA yet, so they talk out of turn more—in Arabic, and usually about their utter confusion. I don’t enjoy them talking out of turn, but they’re just so cute and little. They also probably haven’t had much interaction with girls other than family members, so when one of them asks me a question (even if they don’t speak any English…), five or six more crowd around them draping their arms over each other, interrupting and attempting to explain in one or two English words. It reminds me of the seniors when they were younger. These students are just so funny. I wish that everyone could just see them. I have two ESL students that are good friends, who follow me around more than most. Both of them speak somewhat better English, and I explained that they were in my “bubble” today. They’re sweet. But I can tell they’re just looking for any excuse to come talk to me.
Tomorrow in the 11th and 12th grade Bible classes, we’re doing personality testing, and I’m really excited about that. The semester is split into thirds—awareness of self and others, marriage, and children.
Ashraf, one of my seniors, told me that it’s time for me to get married. Jessica is married. Now it’s my turn. When I go back to America I need to get married and have children. It’s time. I’m 23. Oh dear…
I played the guitar for song service Friday night and Sabbath morning. I pretended to be Jessica.
One of my ESL students came to me with a toothache last night. He had a lot of pain and a swollen submandibular lymph node. I gave him Tylenol and figured that we’d give him some kind of penicillin but wanted to check with Peggy for the normal toothache/infection protocol. So we went into town and got him some amoxicillin. I felt like such a doctor. I’m smiling proudly as I type this. Haha. I’ve been getting more nursing responsibilities lately. Sprained joints, upset stomach, infections, etc. I’m still in the process of figuring out what they act like when they’re sick. I know that they are coddled here much more than we are in America, so they could act like they’re dying and be totally fine. I feel good. I feel like I’ve learned some basic nursing skills, which is good. What use am I in everyday life if I know all about IV drips but can’t take care of an upset stomach?
Oh, apparently last time I was here I was fat, and now I'm "sin." I was told this when I came back to visit too. But I wear the same pants now as I did when I was here the first time. I'll probably get "soooo fat" again after being here for a while... eating the oily food and not having time to exercise--though I have been making it a point to exercise.
The seniors are older than when I had them last. (Duh.) But it’s really exciting to see them now. AND they’re easier to handle in class… Oh my goodness… I couldn’t even describe what they were like in ninth grade. I was talking to one of the boys on Sunday for a while. I was close to him when I was here last, and I had really taken the time to try to understand him then. He calls me his sister. He doesn’t open up very easily and he bottles it up inside. His father died I don’t know how many years ago. He has two older brothers. Yousef is 16 years older and lives in Kuwait to make more money to send to his family in Zewak, a very conservative Upper Egyptian village, and to NUA for this student’s education. My student’s other older brother is deaf and has some brain damage. His name is Adel, and he works at the school making bread. He loves to draw and smiles a lot. So this student of mine is the man of his household now. He was telling me that after he graduates he wants to go to school in Texas. I asked why he wanted to leave Egypt. He said that he needs to go to college in America so that he can make more money than he would here. He wants Yousef to be able to go home and be with his family and watch his kids grow up. Apparently Yousef hasn’t seen one of his own kids because he hasn’t been home in a long time. And this student wants to make money so that he can pay for Yousef’s kids to go to school like Yousef did for him. I know that he truly meant that. Mary has one of her English classes write every day about whatever prompt she gives them on the board. One was asking what they would do with 1,000,000 Egyptian pounds (LE). All of them said that they would help their families and help their church. I feel like a lot of kids in America would talk about shopping and iPhones and shallow materialistic things. So people can criticize Egyptians for not waiting in line or for having some nauseatingly emotional movies and even for not taking responsibility for their actions very well, but they care for their family so deeply.
I love the way that the people interact here. It’s so nice to watch them. And I guess part of it is that they’re younger and therefore more energetic. But it’s just nice. The cultural is a more aggressive culture in general though. They’ll kick or smack each other on the back pretty hard, and it was alarming when I first got to Egypt, but they’re just playing around. I did see some little boys throwing glass bottles at a wall in an alley tonight on the way to the pharmacy, and that was a little too much for me, but most don’t take it that far. ☺ When they joke, they hang all of each other and slap hands when someone makes a joke. Sometimes when they laugh, they fall into each other. It’s just nice because it feels like they really love each other.
I taught the 11th and 12th graders about “the human condition.” I explained where our “buttons” come from. For example, if someone has been made to feel stupid in the past, they become more sensitive to situations from which they could interpret that they are being called stupid. They understood it well and seemed to appreciate the lesson. I had them then write a paper about what they think their buttons are and where they came from. I didn’t want to pry, so I told them that I would check the papers in for credit but wouldn’t read them unless they told me that I could. But I did make it known to them that it is important for them to be able to trust trustworthy people and they must let people in in order to have close relationships, so this would be a good opportunity for practicing that. Some of the papers I got, well, all of the ones that I read hurt. Some people misunderstood what they were supposed to do but talked about something that was painful to them anyway. Some talked about how they had been made to feel like failures and how they’re sensitive to being ignored because they felt that way as a child. One student felt disrespected by his family in front of others and it made him feel sad and embarrassed. One student said that sometimes it hurts to see people wearing nice clothes because it makes him feel like he doesn’t have any money. It made me cry. I was thankful that they were willing to let me in. I’ve always loved them, but we bond in our pain and weaknesses more than in our strengths. And now I can pray for them more specifically. I just want them to feel healing and peace. Some of these students’ attitudes and mindsets frustrate me, but I love them all.
I don’t like not being able to run in basketball shorts or having to wear long sleeves when going outside the school wall. I don’t like the smell of our kitchen or bathroom, and I don’t like how my feet look like a gnarly old woman’s or how the stray cats run under my legs when I'm trying to walk, but the thought of never having this back again hurts me in a deep place. I don’t want to let go.
I could not have charaded the story of creation more than I did with my ESL students. “Firmament” was a fun one. I know next to nothing in Arabic, so I used my hands a lot. “Water” (at the ground), “not water” (in the middle), and “water” (above me, which I then showed as raindrops falling). SaH? (Do you understand?) And I showed water, and then sucked in my cheeks and put my hands to my face like fish gills… Absolutely ridiculous, but it works. I was able to somewhat explain that Eve was taken from the rib meaning that she is not to rule over Adam nor be trampled under him. Today in class I had Saeda, one of the 11th graders translate some more points that I wanted to make sure that they understood. It’s a Bible class, not just an English class where they learn Biblical words, so it’s important to me that they learn about God. There are four girls and 20 boys in the class. The Sudanese students speak pretty good English when they come, but their writing isn’t as good, so unfortunately in classes where all of ESL is together, they have to put up with classes like mine. Unfortunately I am already starting to “speak ESL,” in other words automatically switching one big word for several little ones and being more expressive to get my point across. The students are so cute! I can’t even stand it sometimes! There are some boys that are 14-ish, but they look like they’re 10. And they have skinny, linear little bodies and eyes that are full of light and high little voices. Taylor described one as “half squirrel” because he has a skinny little body, round face, and is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. And the ESL students haven’t learned the rules/ways at NUA yet, so they talk out of turn more—in Arabic, and usually about their utter confusion. I don’t enjoy them talking out of turn, but they’re just so cute and little. They also probably haven’t had much interaction with girls other than family members, so when one of them asks me a question (even if they don’t speak any English…), five or six more crowd around them draping their arms over each other, interrupting and attempting to explain in one or two English words. It reminds me of the seniors when they were younger. These students are just so funny. I wish that everyone could just see them. I have two ESL students that are good friends, who follow me around more than most. Both of them speak somewhat better English, and I explained that they were in my “bubble” today. They’re sweet. But I can tell they’re just looking for any excuse to come talk to me.
Tomorrow in the 11th and 12th grade Bible classes, we’re doing personality testing, and I’m really excited about that. The semester is split into thirds—awareness of self and others, marriage, and children.
Ashraf, one of my seniors, told me that it’s time for me to get married. Jessica is married. Now it’s my turn. When I go back to America I need to get married and have children. It’s time. I’m 23. Oh dear…
I played the guitar for song service Friday night and Sabbath morning. I pretended to be Jessica.
One of my ESL students came to me with a toothache last night. He had a lot of pain and a swollen submandibular lymph node. I gave him Tylenol and figured that we’d give him some kind of penicillin but wanted to check with Peggy for the normal toothache/infection protocol. So we went into town and got him some amoxicillin. I felt like such a doctor. I’m smiling proudly as I type this. Haha. I’ve been getting more nursing responsibilities lately. Sprained joints, upset stomach, infections, etc. I’m still in the process of figuring out what they act like when they’re sick. I know that they are coddled here much more than we are in America, so they could act like they’re dying and be totally fine. I feel good. I feel like I’ve learned some basic nursing skills, which is good. What use am I in everyday life if I know all about IV drips but can’t take care of an upset stomach?
Oh, apparently last time I was here I was fat, and now I'm "sin." I was told this when I came back to visit too. But I wear the same pants now as I did when I was here the first time. I'll probably get "soooo fat" again after being here for a while... eating the oily food and not having time to exercise--though I have been making it a point to exercise.
The seniors are older than when I had them last. (Duh.) But it’s really exciting to see them now. AND they’re easier to handle in class… Oh my goodness… I couldn’t even describe what they were like in ninth grade. I was talking to one of the boys on Sunday for a while. I was close to him when I was here last, and I had really taken the time to try to understand him then. He calls me his sister. He doesn’t open up very easily and he bottles it up inside. His father died I don’t know how many years ago. He has two older brothers. Yousef is 16 years older and lives in Kuwait to make more money to send to his family in Zewak, a very conservative Upper Egyptian village, and to NUA for this student’s education. My student’s other older brother is deaf and has some brain damage. His name is Adel, and he works at the school making bread. He loves to draw and smiles a lot. So this student of mine is the man of his household now. He was telling me that after he graduates he wants to go to school in Texas. I asked why he wanted to leave Egypt. He said that he needs to go to college in America so that he can make more money than he would here. He wants Yousef to be able to go home and be with his family and watch his kids grow up. Apparently Yousef hasn’t seen one of his own kids because he hasn’t been home in a long time. And this student wants to make money so that he can pay for Yousef’s kids to go to school like Yousef did for him. I know that he truly meant that. Mary has one of her English classes write every day about whatever prompt she gives them on the board. One was asking what they would do with 1,000,000 Egyptian pounds (LE). All of them said that they would help their families and help their church. I feel like a lot of kids in America would talk about shopping and iPhones and shallow materialistic things. So people can criticize Egyptians for not waiting in line or for having some nauseatingly emotional movies and even for not taking responsibility for their actions very well, but they care for their family so deeply.
I love the way that the people interact here. It’s so nice to watch them. And I guess part of it is that they’re younger and therefore more energetic. But it’s just nice. The cultural is a more aggressive culture in general though. They’ll kick or smack each other on the back pretty hard, and it was alarming when I first got to Egypt, but they’re just playing around. I did see some little boys throwing glass bottles at a wall in an alley tonight on the way to the pharmacy, and that was a little too much for me, but most don’t take it that far. ☺ When they joke, they hang all of each other and slap hands when someone makes a joke. Sometimes when they laugh, they fall into each other. It’s just nice because it feels like they really love each other.
I taught the 11th and 12th graders about “the human condition.” I explained where our “buttons” come from. For example, if someone has been made to feel stupid in the past, they become more sensitive to situations from which they could interpret that they are being called stupid. They understood it well and seemed to appreciate the lesson. I had them then write a paper about what they think their buttons are and where they came from. I didn’t want to pry, so I told them that I would check the papers in for credit but wouldn’t read them unless they told me that I could. But I did make it known to them that it is important for them to be able to trust trustworthy people and they must let people in in order to have close relationships, so this would be a good opportunity for practicing that. Some of the papers I got, well, all of the ones that I read hurt. Some people misunderstood what they were supposed to do but talked about something that was painful to them anyway. Some talked about how they had been made to feel like failures and how they’re sensitive to being ignored because they felt that way as a child. One student felt disrespected by his family in front of others and it made him feel sad and embarrassed. One student said that sometimes it hurts to see people wearing nice clothes because it makes him feel like he doesn’t have any money. It made me cry. I was thankful that they were willing to let me in. I’ve always loved them, but we bond in our pain and weaknesses more than in our strengths. And now I can pray for them more specifically. I just want them to feel healing and peace. Some of these students’ attitudes and mindsets frustrate me, but I love them all.
I don’t like not being able to run in basketball shorts or having to wear long sleeves when going outside the school wall. I don’t like the smell of our kitchen or bathroom, and I don’t like how my feet look like a gnarly old woman’s or how the stray cats run under my legs when I'm trying to walk, but the thought of never having this back again hurts me in a deep place. I don’t want to let go.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Back Again
Hi everyone. I am here safely. I got in at maybe 8:30 or 9 last night. I flew from Chicago to Istanbul and then Istanbul to Cairo. Turkish Air fed me a lot! I was shocked! Probably because the last time I flew I took Spirit… which was cheaper than any other airline, but I had to pay for a carry-on. And either Turkish Air didn’t care that my backpack weighed 4000 lbs or I was really good at hiding my grimaces every time I put it on my back. It was FULL of books. And with a backpack that size, everyone and their mom knows that you’re American.
Pastor Tom Decker, the principal of Nile Union Academy, picked me up at the airport. It was nice seeing him. Everything was beautifully familiar. Though I didn’t see anyone in the airport wearing a shirt saying, “This is a realy many,” to unknowingly welcome me back. It is a completely different world here, and I just love it. I’ve missed the incessant honking and the calls to prayer from the mosques around the school. For those of you who hadn’t read about my experiences last time, I’ll mention that the driving here is unlike anywhere else I have been before. Lanes? Psh… what’s the point? People swerve around each other, drive within inche(s) of each other, honk like crazy, flash their lights at others, and go as fast as they want. If it’s more convenient, they’ll drive on the wrong side of the road to get where they’re going. The main form of public transportation is microbuses, which are vans that cram people in and stop along the road to pick others up. They all play Egyptian music—which sounds like something you might hear at a circus—and… I don’t know. It’s just a wonderful experience.
I unloaded my stuff into villa 3, where I am living with five other girls. Taylor, Mary, and Bethany (Americans) and Maryam and Mary (Egyptians). I share a room with Bethany, who teaches science. This is her third year teaching at NUA. She was here the year before I was and then came back last year and this year. Then all the SMs went to the Deckers’ house to “meet me” and eat cookies. The guys are Chris, Austin, Phil, and Jeff. The group seems really good. I like the dynamics, and I think that this will be a good year, and that they will all be good for the students.
I’m trying to be conscientious about being helpful but not acting like I know everything to the other SMs. I remember getting annoyed in elementary school with the new kids who would always say, “At my old school…” so I will try not to do that by referring to when I was first here.
I am currently “Ms. Peggy,” in other words the nurse, until she comes back from America in a few weeks. I pray for wisdom, but I know that God won’t give me more than I can handle. There have been some deaths of unknown causes in the past couple years, a microbus accident, and a water heater exploding in the boys’ dorm, so I may have to deal with more than stomach aches. I pray not though. There are two people with diabetes mellitus who have already crashed a couple times recently. One is a student and another is a new faculty member. Apparently the student’s mom handled his diabetes, so he doesn’t know much about it himself. He’s learning. I’m so thankful to those who donated the glucose meters, strips, and lancets!
As school gets started I’m going to start some individual counseling sessions. I’m also hoping to do some group therapy. I found some awesome cognitive behavioral therapy worksheets online that I think will be really effective. Just meeting some of the boys on the grass who didn’t even understand, “What’s your name?” in English gives me an idea of how to go about teaching ESL Bible. Charades. I'm also going to be teaching them some songs. Since I'm starting in Genesis, I could teach them some praise songs about creation. (And considering that most of the students are tone deaf, I can sing without shame :) ) I’m helping Pastor Tom teach his 11th and 12th grade Bible classes about marriage and family (though the first part of the semester will help them to understand themselves, their past, and others… aka counseling), and I will also be taking Peggy’s career class. Her husband Ron told me that I’m going to start by teaching first aid and how to address envelopes—the call to prayer just started. ☺ I remember last time I was here and was teaching class that nobody in the class flinched, but I completely lost my train of thought. There are at least five mosques surrounding the school, so their drawn out monotone prayers/songs overlap each other. I used to be kind of creeped out by the sounds and style, but now I understand better and appreciate the calls as a good reminder for me to pray too. Pastor Tom told me that since Pastor Isaac (who was also the boys' dean) left, they don't have a pastor currently, so he's it. I offered that if there's anything I can do to help, I'd be happy to. So he told me I can be responsible for all the vespers, not necessarily speaking, but just making sure to arrange everything. I'm looking forward to that.
It so great to see the students. Most of the ones that I taught when I was here from 2009-2010 are seniors now, and I’m so proud of them! They’re excited to see me too. Even though I felt like an utter failure at many times when I was a student missionary, I didn’t utterly fail because there are tons of students who love and trust me because they know that I love them too. And that is helpful because even the students I don’t know have heard that “Miss Sara is good and talks to the students.” I can’t imagine us in America being so accepting and excited about seeing us again. Maybe the Egyptians are just more open about it, but I really don’t think so. I want to be as accepting as they are.
I anticipate feeling somewhat lonely at times, but in a strange way I'm kind of looking forward to it. I want to be alone with God. I’m really happy to be here. Love you all.
Pastor Tom Decker, the principal of Nile Union Academy, picked me up at the airport. It was nice seeing him. Everything was beautifully familiar. Though I didn’t see anyone in the airport wearing a shirt saying, “This is a realy many,” to unknowingly welcome me back. It is a completely different world here, and I just love it. I’ve missed the incessant honking and the calls to prayer from the mosques around the school. For those of you who hadn’t read about my experiences last time, I’ll mention that the driving here is unlike anywhere else I have been before. Lanes? Psh… what’s the point? People swerve around each other, drive within inche(s) of each other, honk like crazy, flash their lights at others, and go as fast as they want. If it’s more convenient, they’ll drive on the wrong side of the road to get where they’re going. The main form of public transportation is microbuses, which are vans that cram people in and stop along the road to pick others up. They all play Egyptian music—which sounds like something you might hear at a circus—and… I don’t know. It’s just a wonderful experience.
I unloaded my stuff into villa 3, where I am living with five other girls. Taylor, Mary, and Bethany (Americans) and Maryam and Mary (Egyptians). I share a room with Bethany, who teaches science. This is her third year teaching at NUA. She was here the year before I was and then came back last year and this year. Then all the SMs went to the Deckers’ house to “meet me” and eat cookies. The guys are Chris, Austin, Phil, and Jeff. The group seems really good. I like the dynamics, and I think that this will be a good year, and that they will all be good for the students.
I’m trying to be conscientious about being helpful but not acting like I know everything to the other SMs. I remember getting annoyed in elementary school with the new kids who would always say, “At my old school…” so I will try not to do that by referring to when I was first here.
I am currently “Ms. Peggy,” in other words the nurse, until she comes back from America in a few weeks. I pray for wisdom, but I know that God won’t give me more than I can handle. There have been some deaths of unknown causes in the past couple years, a microbus accident, and a water heater exploding in the boys’ dorm, so I may have to deal with more than stomach aches. I pray not though. There are two people with diabetes mellitus who have already crashed a couple times recently. One is a student and another is a new faculty member. Apparently the student’s mom handled his diabetes, so he doesn’t know much about it himself. He’s learning. I’m so thankful to those who donated the glucose meters, strips, and lancets!
As school gets started I’m going to start some individual counseling sessions. I’m also hoping to do some group therapy. I found some awesome cognitive behavioral therapy worksheets online that I think will be really effective. Just meeting some of the boys on the grass who didn’t even understand, “What’s your name?” in English gives me an idea of how to go about teaching ESL Bible. Charades. I'm also going to be teaching them some songs. Since I'm starting in Genesis, I could teach them some praise songs about creation. (And considering that most of the students are tone deaf, I can sing without shame :) ) I’m helping Pastor Tom teach his 11th and 12th grade Bible classes about marriage and family (though the first part of the semester will help them to understand themselves, their past, and others… aka counseling), and I will also be taking Peggy’s career class. Her husband Ron told me that I’m going to start by teaching first aid and how to address envelopes—the call to prayer just started. ☺ I remember last time I was here and was teaching class that nobody in the class flinched, but I completely lost my train of thought. There are at least five mosques surrounding the school, so their drawn out monotone prayers/songs overlap each other. I used to be kind of creeped out by the sounds and style, but now I understand better and appreciate the calls as a good reminder for me to pray too. Pastor Tom told me that since Pastor Isaac (who was also the boys' dean) left, they don't have a pastor currently, so he's it. I offered that if there's anything I can do to help, I'd be happy to. So he told me I can be responsible for all the vespers, not necessarily speaking, but just making sure to arrange everything. I'm looking forward to that.
It so great to see the students. Most of the ones that I taught when I was here from 2009-2010 are seniors now, and I’m so proud of them! They’re excited to see me too. Even though I felt like an utter failure at many times when I was a student missionary, I didn’t utterly fail because there are tons of students who love and trust me because they know that I love them too. And that is helpful because even the students I don’t know have heard that “Miss Sara is good and talks to the students.” I can’t imagine us in America being so accepting and excited about seeing us again. Maybe the Egyptians are just more open about it, but I really don’t think so. I want to be as accepting as they are.
I anticipate feeling somewhat lonely at times, but in a strange way I'm kind of looking forward to it. I want to be alone with God. I’m really happy to be here. Love you all.
Right Where I Should Be
I’m one who is prone to skepticism, and I’m pretty realistic and unfortunately able to rationalize God’s moving as “just how things would have turned out,” but I know that this is where I’m supposed to be.
Last summer I went through the TrueYou workshops in Chattanooga, which were intensive weekend workshops emphasizing self-awareness, growth, and getting ride of self-defeating habits—in other words, it helps people to be fully alive. That changed my life. And since then I went to all of the workshops as a facilitator and brought as many people as I could with me so that they could experience it as well. From that I gained wisdom as to how to counsel people and effective interactive processes that I could use in group settings.
One of the girls in my nursing class was going to go to Africa as a student missionary, and that got me thinking that maybe I could do the same thing before getting a full-time nursing job. If I went to a place and did nursing, then that wouldn’t make it bad that I didn’t get a job right away. (There is a lot of competition for nursing jobs.) So I looked into some places in Africa and I emailed Pastor Tom as well, mentioning my degree and experience with counseling about. (Yes, Egypt is in Africa, but it feels more like part of the Middle East to me.) Malawi and other places fell through, but Pastor Tom wrote back saying that a week of prayer speaker had just emailed him saying that they have a strong need for a counselor on campus. There are many students who struggle with anxiety, phobias, post-traumatic stress, and have faced great struggles in their lives both don’t have anyone to help them work through things. They need a non-administrative person that they can talk to. He said that they know me and trust me and asked if I would come. My friend David firmly believed that God wanted me at NUA, and I took that seriously. After some time, I accepted the position. A couple weeks later I was looking through my journal from last fall, and in several places I mentioned how my dream job would be working as a high school chaplain. I also talked about how badly I wished I could counsel people. I had forgotten that I had written those things and even wanted those things so much.
Initially, my primary role was to be a counselor at the school. Pastor Tom also asked if I would help him teach his Bible 11 & 12 classes, which are about marriage and family for the first semester. He said that before any marital or parenting advice, they need to understand themselves, so he wanted to spend a good chunk of the semester helping them to understand themselves and others and how to have functional relationships in general. Thank You, God via TrueYou!
About a week before coming here, I got an e-mail from NUA’s nurse practitioner Peggy Miller, who said that something came up in the family and she wouldn’t be able to return to Egypt from the US for a while, so I would be the nurse on campus until she comes back. BOOM. Just graduated with nursing. I would also be teaching her Careers/Life Skills class, which includes first aid, childcare, career paths (personality testing implied!), etc. How perfect. Who would have known that this was going to come up? God.
Here I am, sitting on the Deckers’ massive couch trying to plan for classes and figure out what I need to do. I’ll write more about the actual place later, but I just wanted to give God credit for bringing me here.
Last summer I went through the TrueYou workshops in Chattanooga, which were intensive weekend workshops emphasizing self-awareness, growth, and getting ride of self-defeating habits—in other words, it helps people to be fully alive. That changed my life. And since then I went to all of the workshops as a facilitator and brought as many people as I could with me so that they could experience it as well. From that I gained wisdom as to how to counsel people and effective interactive processes that I could use in group settings.
One of the girls in my nursing class was going to go to Africa as a student missionary, and that got me thinking that maybe I could do the same thing before getting a full-time nursing job. If I went to a place and did nursing, then that wouldn’t make it bad that I didn’t get a job right away. (There is a lot of competition for nursing jobs.) So I looked into some places in Africa and I emailed Pastor Tom as well, mentioning my degree and experience with counseling about. (Yes, Egypt is in Africa, but it feels more like part of the Middle East to me.) Malawi and other places fell through, but Pastor Tom wrote back saying that a week of prayer speaker had just emailed him saying that they have a strong need for a counselor on campus. There are many students who struggle with anxiety, phobias, post-traumatic stress, and have faced great struggles in their lives both don’t have anyone to help them work through things. They need a non-administrative person that they can talk to. He said that they know me and trust me and asked if I would come. My friend David firmly believed that God wanted me at NUA, and I took that seriously. After some time, I accepted the position. A couple weeks later I was looking through my journal from last fall, and in several places I mentioned how my dream job would be working as a high school chaplain. I also talked about how badly I wished I could counsel people. I had forgotten that I had written those things and even wanted those things so much.
Initially, my primary role was to be a counselor at the school. Pastor Tom also asked if I would help him teach his Bible 11 & 12 classes, which are about marriage and family for the first semester. He said that before any marital or parenting advice, they need to understand themselves, so he wanted to spend a good chunk of the semester helping them to understand themselves and others and how to have functional relationships in general. Thank You, God via TrueYou!
About a week before coming here, I got an e-mail from NUA’s nurse practitioner Peggy Miller, who said that something came up in the family and she wouldn’t be able to return to Egypt from the US for a while, so I would be the nurse on campus until she comes back. BOOM. Just graduated with nursing. I would also be teaching her Careers/Life Skills class, which includes first aid, childcare, career paths (personality testing implied!), etc. How perfect. Who would have known that this was going to come up? God.
Here I am, sitting on the Deckers’ massive couch trying to plan for classes and figure out what I need to do. I’ll write more about the actual place later, but I just wanted to give God credit for bringing me here.
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