News from Egypt

Finally I am able to post an update to this blog.  I apologize for the long delay.  I cannot update my blog from my phone and it has taken a few days to find an Internet cafe.  I have much to tell, but will try to be somewhat brief.

As you may know from my fb postings, my flight from Detroit was delayed by 3 hours due to mechanical difficulties.  As a result I missed my connection from London to Cairo.  In London, I was put on a British Airways flight to Paris and in Paris picked up an Air France flight to Cairo.

I made it, but my luggage didn't.

This is now day 5 (counting the travel days) of wearing the exact same outfit.  It has become a running joke with my team.  Hmmmm?!  What should Bella wear today?!  Oh, I think I'll wear the brown shirt and the green pants . . .  hahahaha.  Except, it's not funny anymore.  Anyone who knows me personally knows that I won't even wear the same socks twice in one day, much less the same underthings.   This has been a test of mammoth proportions.  I'm washing my personals including socks every night in Fa peach and orange blossom shower gel.  It's a pleasant scent, which is better than the alternative.

I was picked up from the airport by my new friend, Hoda Khafagi and her father.  They were gracious to take me to a pharmacy to buy soap and a toothbrush.  They are also helping me to to track down the missing luggage.

Hoda took me to the Egyptian Museum where I saw the royal mummies and King Tut's treasures.  It was amazing to be surrounded by the ancient history of human civilization.  There was even a room of animal mummies.  For some reason that I'm not sure I want to know the answer for, ancient Egyptians mummified crocodiles, cats, dogs, baboons, cobras, birds. 

Hoda took me to lunch in a small alleyway cafe where I chose lamb kebab over roast pigeon, which appeared to be the specialty of the place.  People around us were gorging themselves, sucking and slurping pigeon fat and juices from their fingers.

She also took me to a mosque, the name of which I can't remember just now and I left my guidebook back at the room, but it is the oldest mosque in Cairo.  I had to cover my hair, but fortunately had a scarf around my neck, and I had to remove my shoes and put on a very unattractive, very stretchy blue skirt over my pants.  We were there during the call to prayer and it was beautiful.  There was a sense of reverance and solid history to the place.  Hoda, who lives here and is Muslim, had never visited the mosque before and she was overcome with emotion to be there.

Cairo, which is pronounced Cayro with a slight trill or flip to the "r" by the locals, is like a Middle Eastern New York City.  It simply never sleeps.  Our hotel is right downtown and traffic and people abound constantly.  There is the incessant honking of horns, but surprisingly enough, it's not annoying.  Unlike in America where we lay on our horns in anger and road rage, these horns are cheerful reminders that a car is coming through and please get out of the way.  Although you take your life in your hands attempting to cross the street.  Crosswalks are NOT respected here like in the States.  Traffic does not yield.  Here, if you're on foot, it's yield or die!

The city is filthy.  Dust, smog, smoke, trash, clutter.  Everything is covered with fine, brown grit.  It gets into your hair, your skin, your nose, your throat.  And there are cats everywhere.  Tabbies, calicoes, gray ones, black ones, some with no tails, some with chewed off ears, some with teats burgeoning with milk, some so thin the ribs are clearly visible.

The people are very friendly.  As we walk down the street, the locals test their limited English on us.  Welcome, Welcome!  Hello, how are you?  God bless America!  They  have been very helpful.

As you may know by now, the Egyptian authorities are not allowing us to cross at the Rafah border and they have closed the road to Al Arish.  We are all profoundly disappointed and are having a hard time getting our bearings about how to proceed.  The grief in our team at not being able to go is palpable.  Egypt was to be our gateway to Gaza, not our final destination.  There are more than a thousand Gaza Freedom Marchers spread throughout the city in various hotels and we have had difficulty staying in contact to learn what alternative plans are.  In the meantime, there have been a number of smaller protests (100-300 people) in different areas around the city.  All protests have been peaceful, although police and military are out in force in the areas where the marchers congregate.  If their job is to intimidate, they are doing an excellent job. 

This is indeed a police state and our small group of the six of us Michigan Peace Team members were harrassed by four burly Egyptian police officers.  We weren't even with any other marchers.  We were in the general area of an ongoing protest, but were just walking down the street.  It was quite scary.

On the one hand, they wouldn't have to put up with nuisance of a bunch of foreigners stirring up trouble in their city if they would just let us get on buses to Al Arish.  We would all be more than happy to leave Cairo.  We didn't come here to be scattered and wandering about the city doing protests here and there.  We came on a mission to enter Gaza in a show of solidarity for human rights.

We are very fortunate to have on our team with MPT, Yusuf  Barakat, a Palestinian by birth who had to flee Gaza with his family at the age of 12.  He speaks Arabic and has taken on the role of caretaker for us five American women on the team.  He is a beautiful, gentle man with a strong sense of justice.  At our team meeting last night, we were all able to finally share our grief at not being able to complete our mission, and though we all wept, Yusuf wept most of all.  Not just tears down his aged face (he is 74), but his soul, no, his spirit was also weeping.  It was a primordial, internal weeping. He taught us the Arabic word "YasHaari" which is symbolizes the lowest form of lament and grief.  When you have lost everything -- child, husband, belongings, home, identity -- and are sitting in the dust with nothing left but the clothes on your back, you pound your chest with your fist and cry out, "YasHaari."  Yusuf is lamenting, grieving at not being allowed to enter his homeland.

There is a possibility that various groups of the greater Gaza Freedom March contingent will still attempt to travel to Rafah on their own.  We have heard the road is blocked and a group of Spanish activists have been detained in Al-Arish and are not allowed to leave their hotel.  MPT is hoping that as the calendar days of when the March was originally planned near an end, that the roadblocks will be lifted and that we may at least be able to travel to Rafah, Egypt, which is essentially Rafah, Gaza, there is just a wall through the middle of the city.


I will try to keep you posted on any new developments.  I encourage you to check the MPT blog for more detailed updates on the protest events. Go to http//:mptingaza.blogspot.com

Unfortunately, I had a terrible case of the traveler trots yesterday and spent the bulk of the day and night in the hotel room.  Thankfully I am feeling much better today and am planning to go buy another outfit and some new underwear and socks.  I would appreciate prayers going out that my luggage will show up safely and SOON.  As in right NOW.

This is it for now. I'll write more as soon as I can.  Please continue to keep us in your thoughts and prayers.  Shukran.

Below are a few photos that I have taken so far.

This is the view from our hotel room.

 Me and my new friend and hostess, Hoda, outside the Egyptian Museum.

A coffee roastery and shop.

Kind of dark, but this shows a couple of cats who were looking down on us eating lunch.  I'm sure they were drooling for a pigeon carcass.

The exterior of the mosque.

Inside the mosque courtyard.

Our hotel, the Cairo Khan.  A three star Motel 6.

My "favorite" outfit in the tub being washed.

Our team, starting on the left and going around the table, Yusuf, me, Dorothy, Liz, Sheri, and Kim.  This was in the dining room of our hotel.