Mafeesh Middle Ground

I have had several consecutive experiences lately where people have gone above and beyond what I ever expected and or they have left an incredibly sour taste in my mouth. There is very little middle ground.

Several of us SMs tried to take the train to Upper Egypt, and a man at the counter refused to sell us second-class tickets and refused to even speak to me after a while. He covered his mouth with a fifty pound bill signifying he wasn't going to speak to me anymore and refused to make eye contact. Rude.

We flagged down a man named Mahmoud standing by. We asked him if he would buy the tickets for us and we would pay him back. He also could not get tickets. He gave us his number to call him if we needed any help from him. Mahmoud came back long after we thought he was gone and brought us each a Pepsi and looked out for us while we were there, walking us from counter to counter. He wouldn’t take any money. He said that was wrong.

A boy was trying to sell us bus tickets to Upper Egypt, but a man in line leaned over to Jordan and whispered in English that we should not listen to anyone who tries to take the bus because they’re just not safe right now.

On the way back to the school, a guy outside the metro threw a lit cigarette into the window and it hit Taylor on the neck.

Everyone on the car was very concerned and many people rushed over to help. They yelled at the man as the train took off and kept shaking their heads and commenting to us that he was a dog and an animal. They were very protective of us and watchful over us. Even though we’d taken the metro a million times before, they tried to be helpful in telling us where to go and helped us find a microbus to take to the school.

We sat across from this really cute family. The woman was dressed very conservatively. Only her eyes were showing. Most of the women that I see dressed like her are very quiet and subdued in public, but this lady had life. Her boy was probably six years old and had the sweetest smile. On her lap she had a plastic bag… with an albino bunny in it. I didn’t even notice it at first. The boy was scared, and she was teasing him with it. It was really cute.

The next day Austin, Jordan, Mary, and I went to look for tacky misspelled t-shirts. The microbus driver told us the ride cost more than it did. I called him out on it, and he gave us our money.

We ran into Ahmed, one of the night class students in New Marg. Against our will, he got us a private microbus to where we were going. Then took us out to eat at a place nearby and walked us to the market we were going to.

After checking out at the market, a guy on the stairs came and tried to help us flag down a microbus to take us home. He told me that his people were not good and to be careful. He flagged down a tucktuck, paid the man, told him exactly where we needed to go and to be careful with us. His name was Kareem, which means “generous.”

The driver that was supposed to be good to us pulled over after a minute or two, said there was a problem with his car and flagged down another one. We got into the other one, and I did not let them drive off until I asked if the first guy paid the second guy. When we got to the school, I went to tip driver #2 which I don’t even usually do, and he asked for more. Driver 1 never paid him. They both lied to me and ripped me off. I told him. I know I have more money than them, and I enjoy giving, but to be taken advantage of is a completely different thing. I’ll give you money, but I will tell you if I know you’re stealing from me for the sake of your own character.

The next day we took a bus to Ain Sokhna to see the Red Sea. The driver dropped us off at a stop that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, so we ended up walking for quite a way. At one of the hotels where we stopped to ask if we could swim at their beach, the man at the gate was very helpful. He looked maybe forty years old and was friendly. He was very honest and gave us his number for if we needed help translating or anything else. He was very nice, but apparently he thought I was. I found this out when he called me the next day and was very upset with me for not returning his text message about me being like the stars in the “skay.” He was also upset that I did not respond when he sent me ten pounds of credit for my cell phone—“I’m sorry… I can’t read Arabic.” Pastor Tom answered my phone the next night when Mohamed called saying, “Hello.” … “This is Sara’s father.” … “Why do you want to talk to Sara?” … “Well Sara is my daughter. I am careful about who she is friends with. Why do you want to talk to her?” “’There’s nothing good in Sara’? Why do you want to talk to her if there’s nothing good in Sara?” … “Listen, Mohamed. Sara is engaged and she does not need another man in her life, so please stop calling. Do you understand?” Apparently he didn’t because he tried to call the next day and sent me this message: “sarha.howareyou you.handsome girl . with clean he lthy looks and br own hair and fav oured with lots of energy and maturity.good natured.you good sense of humour." I am handsome. I got this one last night: “I AM SORRY FOR INTERRUPT YOU . BUT I JUST NEED TO TALK TO YOU FOR 2 OR 3 MINUTS PLEASE I BEG YOU . AND IF YOU DO NOT NEED TO TALK TELL ME . AND I PROMISSING YOU THAT IT WILL BE THE LAST CALL . I BEG YOU ,JUST ONE CALL . FOR ME IT WILL NOT JUST A CALLING BUT IT WILL BE A NEW MEANING OF LIFE, I AM WAITING”









In conclusion… I’ve seen both extremes and still surprised, but less and less. People are good. God is at work in their hearts. And some people are so idle and uneducated and sometimes straight up stupid that their actions reflect that too. But God is the God of all, and they were made in His image. He knows who they are—who He made them to be. Therefore I love them.

Other conclusions: I am handsome with clean healthy looks and give a new meaning to life.

Be still and know

This is my honest account of what happened. It is sad:

Every Friday evening, the Millers invite all the staff over for dinner before vespers. It's a really nice time for all of us to get together and eat and talk and open the Sabbath. This past Friday night, Peggy asked me if I could stop at the girls' dorm because she got a frantic call from the girls' dean's phone, but all she could hear was screaming. She said that she was getting a migraine and would come as soon as she took care of herself. Pastor Tom called and said that the girls called him and told him to get Mrs. Peggy as well. The students freak out very easily. I have been instructed to run as fast as I could to see boys who have physically been perfectly fine but have refused to move or talk... In the past there was also a rule that the girls were not allowed to faint because fainting is so common here. If someone faints, it's usually because they were stressed or heard bad news or got in a fight. So I don't always take their urgency too seriously. Peggy and I started to get a bag of medical things together quickly for me to take, and three girls ran to the door. So I left with them and started running to the dorm. Then I remembered that they freak out very easily, so I walked for a little bit. Then I remembered being in Sandy's room that morning and commenting to her that it smelled like gas from the water heater, and that I had forgotten to say anything to Ron about fixing that, so I took off running again. I ran into the dean's apartment on the bottom floor and was directed to the bathroom. The first thing I was saw Jackline, one of my senior girls, standing in the bathtub propping up Sandy against her shins. As a teacher you're not supposed to have favorites, but my first thoughts were the impression that this was gravely serious and "Not Sandy... oh no... Not Sandy..." I ran over to Sandy, who was unresponsive, and felt for her pulse. If I did feel it, it was thready if palpable at all. I checked the window in case carbon monoxide leaked from the heater, and it was already open. I told Jackline we needed to get her out of the bathtub so I could start CPR. But Sandy was a little bigger, and there was no way I could get her out of the tub without her helping at all. Ron came in shortly after me, and we called for people to help pull her out of the bathtub. We got her on the floor, and I lifted her chin to open her airway... CPR was not like it was on the dummies in my training classes. I thought I was doing it wrong. But the air wouldn't go down.
It just wouldn't go down.
I'd breathe into her, and it would come right back up.
Oh it wouldn't go down no matter what we did. :(
I fear my details could disrespectfully cheapen this experience or lessen the gravity. Ron called for Gladys to call Peggy and to say that, "Ron says to come quickly," so that she knew it was an emergency. Peggy got there as soon as possible, and we were in crisis mode. Ron and Peggy took over CPR while I made phone calls. I called Abo Fady (who lives on campus and owns a Suzuki van) and told him to get to Ms. Janet's house to take us to the "mosteshfa DELWA'ATEE" (hospital NOW!). I called Jeff to get a door by the work shed so that we had something to lay her on so we could take her to the car. They were much faster than I had expected, and I was so thankful. Some of the girls had to help us put Sandy on the door. Other girls were screaming and crying. Gladys and Peggy kicked them out of the way. The door wouldn't fit in the back of the van--I was so upset--so we had to take her off the door. Poor little Sandy. We continued CPR in the car and rotated positions. I prayed so much. When I wasn't giving compressions or breaths, I sometimes made eye contact with people in cars we passed, and I motioned to them to pray.

We got to a hospital, and Ms. Janet (Sandy's aunt and the girls' dean) jumped out and asked if they had emergency medicine. If not, we would have kept driving to the city. They did, and a stretcher was at the back of the van soon. We got her on the stretcher, and I ran the stretcher up the ramp and into the hospital yelling, "Feyn?! Feyn?!" ("Where?!") and was directed to a room. The poor kid in the other bed in the room must have been freaked out by how frantic we were. The doctors and nurses rushed in. I kept giving Sandy breaths. They told me to back off so they could see her, but I refused because I had to finish giving her air. Poor little thing. The doctors got kind of a slow start, but they were much more competent than the last hospital I had heard about--and Peggy and I would not stop what we were doing until we were sure they were ready to jump in. I stepped back and let them do their thing. They tried their best to get her airway open and to suction her mouth. They actually had a defibrillator, which I was very surprised about. I was upset but composed until I saw Abo Fady standing at the bottom of the bed, and it reminded me that eleven months to the day before this he was standing at the bottom of his own daughter's hospital bed, where she died as well. Pain on so many ungodly levels. At times my business mode would shut off and I would feel, feel like a teacher and a friend. Tears streamed down my cheeks. The nurses were very good. I was pleasantly surprised. I saw two of them tear up and turn away from Sandy. It made me remember how most days at work were kind of the same, but there were some days that just... owned me. And for those girls, it must have been one of those--some looked no older than me. After some time we were told that there was nothing more that they could do. I prayed and I cried and wrestled with my faith. I watched Peggy as parts of the night pierced through her emergency-mode exterior.

It is customary to bury the dead within 24 hours of them dying. Sandy's parents were in Australia with her sister. We had to bring her body back to the school, and the ambulance offered to bring her back for free. When we drove on campus behind the ambulance, we heard the girls start to scream. I got out of the Suzuki, and the guy SMs were physically holding back some girls from running into the house. Some were yelling and crying and trying with everything they had to come in. The next couple hours were a mess. People sobbing and yelling. I heard, "Lay, ya Rab?!" (Why, God?) I held Sarah, who had found Sandy. Some people felt very faint, so I came to take their blood pressures and reassure them that they were okay. I came to see Waheed, who was in front of the boys' dorm. His dad died maybe a year and a half ago, and I think his thoughts were there. I listened to his heart, had him breath into a bag, and ran my fingers through his hair until he calmed down. The school was a mess.

We don't know what happened. We can only speculate. Maybe she slipped and hit her head and compromised her airway. Maybe she had a seizure. Maybe carbon monoxide poisoning--we had some gas issues in our own apartment earlier this year. I don't know.



I have been wrestling with a lot of ideas since then. I would not choose this. Ever. But the wrestling has been good for me. I thought that if I really had faith I would be angrier with God because I couldn't tell whether or not I was being apathetic, and apathy is much more dangerous than anger. So I was angry--sincerely and because I thought there was more to figure out. I have struggled with guilt and sadness. But through it all, through my questioning and anger and guilt and grief, all I could know is that God loves me. God loves us. God loved Sandy much more than any of us. And God hurts with those who hurt much more than any of us.

I'm memorizing Romans 8, and I can't get this off of my mind. Paul writes, "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body." (8:18-23) The earth, the world, we, God Himself is just anxiously waiting to glorify us. The world cries out for our redemption. I think of this when riding through the dusty, trash-filled streets past mangy, hungry dogs. I think of this as I pass the pathetic crippled beggars selling packets of kleenex at the metro. I think of this when I remember that Sandy is gone and that she has left a hole in all of our lives. My heart breaks with God's.
Why?
Why?
Why?
I don't know.
But I am more than confident that God is strong and that He loves me. So I will be still and know that He is God even when I cannot see.

From February 27, I think

Tonight we had a “farewell” for one of our students and one of the former students. Beshoy and his family are moving from Alexandria to London. His sister was severely injured in the bombing that happened New Year’s Eve/Day 2010/2011. She has either been in England for surgeries since then or has been back and forth between Egypt and England. He told me about her at the beginning of the year. At 4:45 Peter, the SA Vice President, came to me and said that we were going to have a farewell in the church at 5:00. For who? For Beshoy, who was leaving for the train station at six. Wow. I had just taught him in class that morning and had no idea. That’s kind of typical. “Surprise! I’m up and moving to Toronto.” “Surprise! I’m moving to England in thirty seconds.” But it’s sad nonetheless. Unfortunately, they are used to goodbyes here. My friend Deng has not seen his dad in ten years and his mom in eight. Wael went to America three years ago to join his American wife, and he is not able to come back until he exceeds the maximum age that the army would want him. He’s young. Twenty five, I think. Rafic moved to Canada in November, I believe. When in the world are his best friends ever going to see him again? It just makes me hurt. When I graduate from where and we all go our separate ways, we can still see each other. When my best friend moves to Colorado, I can work extra and fly out to see her. It’s not as easy, but it’s nothing like it is here. And that hurts. I hurt for them. That’s not how things were supposed to be. I feel like every deep down ache is a sign that things were not supposed to be that way. People were never supposed to die. Couples were never supposed to break up. Friends were never supposed to say goodbye. Dogs were never supposed to run around the streets starving to death. But this is a broken world. Last night I was reading with one of the ninth grade boys in Romans 8. “…the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. And now only they, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body.” (Romans 8:21-23) Sobering things just happen sometimes. And it just makes me thankful that the Earth and us will be glorified. We will be restored.

In the midst of that Bible study, some other students came in and one noticed my hand. He kept reaching out trying to get a better look at it—to which I kept pulling my hand away. But the thing that he found interesting about my hands was that they are fat/flabby, I guess…? To which his friend responded, “They’re like pump it up.” What. In. The. World.