Halloween Festivities and the Return of the Fridge

Yesterday, following my Intro to Migration and Refugee Studies course, a few of my classmates and I went to Felfela for Egyptian food. Afterward, the two young ladies among us went to costume up for an early Halloween party (most Halloween parties were held last night due to Thursday's status as the Islamic world's Friday) and Phil and I went back to my apartment where we hung out with Ross watching political YouTube videos and a show on the Israeli invasion of Lebanon until it was time to head to our friends Brandy and Mary-Anne's apartment in Zamalek for some festive Halloween fun. The cab-driver who negotiated the traffic rather artfully was keen on talking politics for us. He explained that he liked Obama because he was new and used the same logic against both Bush and Mubarak, but especially the latter–they've just been there too long without doing a whole lot of good. The cabbie seemed hesistant about the inevitable transfer of power to the president's son, Gamal as well. It was a surprisingely frank estimation of the situation. The group at the party consisted largely of our fellow CMRS students and it was a hoot hanging out in a non-academic, informal atmosphere. Such fun, in fact, that some us stuck around until sunrise. The ride back to Bab al-Luq in the early morning was quite pleasant. The way the city looked lit by the pinkish-yellowish sky, the lack of traffic on the roads, and the relative quiet made wonder if I was really in Cairo. Happily, the greyish haze also lit up by the morning light and effectively obscurely visibility past a certain point brought me back to reality, although it kind of lent a gauzy, impressionist feel to the whole seen.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Ross had gone to bed, outfitted with earplugs and out of reach of his found and the cacaphonous racket of our trusty fridge repairmen who chose midnight as the optimal time to return our fixed refrigerator. My landlord called me and told me that they couldn't reach Ross and were going to leave the appliance in the hall. "Ma3lish," I thought. I ended up dragging the thing when I returned home at 6-something in the morning. The men returned while I was still sleeping to hook it back up and now, thank God, there is frost in the freezer anew and the fridge has cooled down to a respectable yogurt-preserving temperature. You really don't realize just how many things you take for granted (running water, a working fridge, a vacuum, electricity, cranberries etc.) until you're deprived of them every so often. Now I'm sitting down, having enjoyed my customary snack of 'aish baladi and halawa, trying to enjoy Friday without getting to stressed out about the things I need to get done for school and in life. Tonight may include dinner with friends or another Halloween party, but beforehand, it will ideally include lots of research.

News:
Condi Rice and others to arrive in Egypt soon for talks
Egypt donates equipment to Sudanese military
Egyptians fearful in face of uncertain times, flagging economy

A bit of Chicago in Ain Shams

I spent most of my daylight hours yesterday reading, researching, and working on a reflection paper (which I have yet to finish) as well as nibbling on leftover Lebanese. In the evening, though, I marched to the Metro, weaving in and out of traffic and looking determined and impassive, though I was really just braindead from my day of isolation and study. The later was exemplified by the fact that I managed to walk all the way to the wrong platform going the opposite direction (Helwan instead of al-Marg) and wait for the train for a good five-ten minutes before realizing my mistake. Happily, I ended up going the right way and meeting Cynthia in Ain Shams. My class didn't start as expected (though whose expectations one is talking about, I can't say--I always expect things to happen in the most unexpected fashion and at entirely different times on entirely different days here in Egypt). The reasons were that the table-maker that Natalie and Cynthia had contracted to furnish the school with a few, usable flat surfaces had suddenly decided to take a vacation and that classes were larger than anticipated (generally a good indication of the enthusiasm of these young men to learn English, but a logistical problem nonetheless). We tried to further divide my class into two classes, meeting at different times. I still don't know how that worked out. I did get to meet a few of my students, though. Many choose English names or even words to be called by, not for classes, but in general here in Egypt. One of my students, who is from southern Sudan as nearly all are, speaks Arabic and Dinka and rather passable English. He's really excited for my classes. Another student was eagerly asking me questions about Chicago. Though I tried to explain that I lived some two and a half hours away, he was enthralled with his conception of the city. Interestingly, many of the guys wear clothes in a style imitative of America's hip-hop artists. The student wanted to know if Chicago looked like that, if everyone there dressed like the Sudanese at the school. Actually, I told him, many did. Some of them would fit in rather convincingly in the city. He then wanted to know why I wasn't dressed that way. I laughed and, instead of explaining America's cultural realities, I told him that that simply wasn't how my family dressed. I point to another student dressed in a white button-down shirt and jeans and told him that's how some people in America dress too. He ended up walking me back to the Metro past the hanging carcasses of dead cows, old men playing towla, speeding buses, and suspicious Egyptians no doubt wondering what a black Sudanese guy and white American were doing navigating the bustling streets of Ain Shams together. Wiching told me he'd been in Egypt for seven years now and that he'd just dropped out of high school after completing his junior year, but was a bit circumspect about the reasons. After he finishes his education here, he wants to travel or return home to southern Sudan (which is probably UNHCR's ideal for him as repatriation to that part of Sudan is possible--it's the Darfurians who still face grave danger). He continued asking me about my friends from Chicago and wants me to bring photos next time. Who knew Illinois was so exotic?
I was exhausted by the time I got home, zoned out, watched the news, read a bit for classes, and did some genealogy (yes, it's a compulsive sort of addiction that I do by default when my mental energy for higher-order thinking has drained away; it's a lot easier to read census records than formulate my opinion on the moral and practical legitimacy of camps as a solution to refugee crisis).
Unfortunately, a dash of insomnia has crept insidiously back into my nights and I just couldn't drift off. Instead, I listened to this week's episode of This American Life which was a series of vignettes from around Pennsylvania on volunteers from both campaigns and the problems they encountered. One of the segments delt with the racism preventing some people, otherwise staunchly aligned with his principles, from voting for Obama. The frustrating ignorance reminded me of spirited discussions I'd had with my paternal grandfather in which he liberally used racial epithets that would scandalize most people in this age of political correctness and offered spurious reasoning and fanciful stories to justify his distaste of black people. My other grandfather would vote democrat even if the candidate were blue, I think, but that doesn't bespeak a critical analysis of the candidate's policies or viewpoints, rather a loyalty to party handed down from his parents.
I keep forgetting Halloween is on Friday and am more annoyed by the prospect of trying to find a costume to attend various parties I've been invited to. Halloween for me is more of a family event where, in years, past, I've taken my little brother trick-or-treating and then we all congregate at home for pizza with my grandpa (the Democrat) who will have been handing out candy beforehand. Two years ago this Halloween, I was in a small church in the middle of France with my host family and last year I was just hanging out with friends at Bradley. Maybe I'll buck up, be nauseatingly ironic, wrap myself in toilet paper and try to get into the US Embassy party as a mummy.