Thursday, April 21, 2005
Cairo-Lucky-Aug. 4 2002
I’ve been thinking about luck a lot lately. Today I had an appointment with a bright, young Egyptian woman. She is a career development director for a company called Career Egypt. I am trying to convince her to contribute a monthly column on career advice for a new section that I am launching in the magazine. Inji is about 27 years old and just had her very first hip replacement surgery and walks with a cane. Apparently, she has arthritis and has been living with it for so many years that she has done irreparable muscle damage. Four years ago, she went to a "very famous" Egyptian doctor who -- after making her wait for two hours in the waiting room -- told her she was just a girl trying to get attention and that her problem was most likely a symptom of a childhood accident and to live with it. At the beginning of this year, she went to London where she was clearly told after some simple tests that she has early-onset arthritis.
Another woman I have become close to is one of my colleagues at our sister magazine, which is produced out of the same office. Rania is a beautiful, sweet and smart Egyptian. She is 30, single and lives with her family. She has been engaged to be married three times. Each time, her parents seem to like the boy and then change their minds and forbid the marriage. Last week she told me she may get married soon. When I expressed surprise (I hadn’t heard her mention any boyfriend) she rolled her eyes and said, "Well, my parents brought him over and he looks good on paper." So this woman, who has a master’s degree, speaks perfect English, is well aware of norms in other worlds, will follow her parents’ wishes in what should be one of the most important decisions of her life.
One of the most popular phrases in Egypt is "insha ‘allah." This means "God willing." It is used umpteen times a day after almost any sentence. For example, "The satellite repairman is coming by today, insha ‘allah" or "Today is payday, insha ‘allah" or "Maybe it won’t be so hot today insha ‘allah."
Egyptians (maybe all Arabs) go about their lives with seemingly little control over anything. Inji and her health issues -- in America, that doctor would have been sued and she would most likely have received proper treatment before it came to surgery. My single friend? In America, she would have told her parents where to stick it and married the one boyfriend she truly loved (and still does love). Government and God. The two prevailing forces in this world. The government keeps the people so busy and preoccupied with byzantine bureaucracy that they feel lucky to just make it through the procedure. Obtaining any official paper, getting it signed and delivered and approved and re-approved and mailed and mailed back and mailed to a new place and re-signed is mind-numbing at best.
Davin and I have been trying to buy sheets for our guest bed. (This is Egypt -- home of the fancy "400-count Egyptian cotton sheets," right? Wrong. These fabulous sheets are not sold in Egypt. At all. They are only exported.)
We kept hearing the name of a big department store. People said, "Oh, you can buy sheets at Omar Effendi, very nice, very nice." We find the place and indeed, it looks like a Sears/JC Penney-type store. Alas, it’s closed. We tried again the next weekend. Closed. Turns out Omar Effendi is a government-run department store, so its hours are more akin to a drivers license office. So we return on a weeknight and it’s open. Great. We find the least offensive floral-pattern sheets (no plain-colored sheets at all) for a good price. No fitted sheets. They don’t exist here. The guy behind the counter hands me a rather large receipt and tells me to pay for and retrieve the item on the first floor. OK. So we try the elevator. Wrong. Although it worked when we got there, its power is now cut off for some reason. So we walk down to the fourth floor and see some bowls we need. I grab two, show the guy who gives me another large receipt and sends me to the first floor. Head to the first floor. I see my items on a table and go to get them. No, no, I am told, you must pay first. So I head to the cashier (by the way, we are the only customers in the entire store and there’s at least three people standing bored behind every counter). At the back of the store, the cashier tells me credit card payments are paid on the third floor only. So I head back up the stairs to the third floor, fin d the credit card cashier in the back and hand her my two tickets. She then proceeds to fill out another, even larger receipt, stamp my other two receipts, runs my credit card, hands me another receipt and sends me on my way. Back on the first floor, I hand over my four stamped receipts and receive my sheets and plastic bowls.
And you know what? I too felt like I had truly accomplished something. I felt grateful to get in and out with an actual purchase.
To add to the government’s heavy hand, there’s religion. In Islam, there is another, better life after this one. So, here, once again, is the underlying message -- don’t try to change anything, you don’t have control, it’s all in God’s hands and there is nothing you can do except try to be a good person.
I remember when my father first moved to Moscow and he said something to the effect of "life is simpler in Russia than it is in the US." I remember thinking at the time, "How in the hell can it be easier to live in Moscow?" I think I know what he means now. When so many things are out of reach for the majority of people living in a government-controlled state and in poverty, simple things are more enjoyed. An errand in the US (buying some dumb sheets) was a weeks-long sojourn, a major accomplishment. A game of backgammon when there is no TV and you’ve read all your books. Walking to the market with your husband and spending an hour just picking out the best, cleanest fruits and veggies and chatting with the locals who have time to chat. It doesn’t mean life is easier, but simple things become the sweetness of life. It forces you to slow down and savor each day.
I also remember my only visit to Russia to see my dad and thinking, "wow, he needs so many things, there’s so much lacking." But he didn’t. Nor do we. In unpacking my seven boxes that I had shipped here, there are probably two boxes of useless junk. Five extra purses. Two hairdryers. Gobs of earrings. I call it the de-Americanizing of Elizabeth and Davin. Hopefully, it
sticks.
Things that used to seem important but are no longer:
1. My stupid Palm Pilot. What a piece of irrelevant garbage.
2. Perfectly painted toenails.
3. Keeping up with every new movie that comes out.
4. Trying to stop biting my nails. (Once I moved here and stopped trying, it happened. I have stopped biting my nails.)
5. Cute purses, cute shoes. OK, fashion in general.
Another woman I have become close to is one of my colleagues at our sister magazine, which is produced out of the same office. Rania is a beautiful, sweet and smart Egyptian. She is 30, single and lives with her family. She has been engaged to be married three times. Each time, her parents seem to like the boy and then change their minds and forbid the marriage. Last week she told me she may get married soon. When I expressed surprise (I hadn’t heard her mention any boyfriend) she rolled her eyes and said, "Well, my parents brought him over and he looks good on paper." So this woman, who has a master’s degree, speaks perfect English, is well aware of norms in other worlds, will follow her parents’ wishes in what should be one of the most important decisions of her life.
One of the most popular phrases in Egypt is "insha ‘allah." This means "God willing." It is used umpteen times a day after almost any sentence. For example, "The satellite repairman is coming by today, insha ‘allah" or "Today is payday, insha ‘allah" or "Maybe it won’t be so hot today insha ‘allah."
Egyptians (maybe all Arabs) go about their lives with seemingly little control over anything. Inji and her health issues -- in America, that doctor would have been sued and she would most likely have received proper treatment before it came to surgery. My single friend? In America, she would have told her parents where to stick it and married the one boyfriend she truly loved (and still does love). Government and God. The two prevailing forces in this world. The government keeps the people so busy and preoccupied with byzantine bureaucracy that they feel lucky to just make it through the procedure. Obtaining any official paper, getting it signed and delivered and approved and re-approved and mailed and mailed back and mailed to a new place and re-signed is mind-numbing at best.
Davin and I have been trying to buy sheets for our guest bed. (This is Egypt -- home of the fancy "400-count Egyptian cotton sheets," right? Wrong. These fabulous sheets are not sold in Egypt. At all. They are only exported.)
We kept hearing the name of a big department store. People said, "Oh, you can buy sheets at Omar Effendi, very nice, very nice." We find the place and indeed, it looks like a Sears/JC Penney-type store. Alas, it’s closed. We tried again the next weekend. Closed. Turns out Omar Effendi is a government-run department store, so its hours are more akin to a drivers license office. So we return on a weeknight and it’s open. Great. We find the least offensive floral-pattern sheets (no plain-colored sheets at all) for a good price. No fitted sheets. They don’t exist here. The guy behind the counter hands me a rather large receipt and tells me to pay for and retrieve the item on the first floor. OK. So we try the elevator. Wrong. Although it worked when we got there, its power is now cut off for some reason. So we walk down to the fourth floor and see some bowls we need. I grab two, show the guy who gives me another large receipt and sends me to the first floor. Head to the first floor. I see my items on a table and go to get them. No, no, I am told, you must pay first. So I head to the cashier (by the way, we are the only customers in the entire store and there’s at least three people standing bored behind every counter). At the back of the store, the cashier tells me credit card payments are paid on the third floor only. So I head back up the stairs to the third floor, fin d the credit card cashier in the back and hand her my two tickets. She then proceeds to fill out another, even larger receipt, stamp my other two receipts, runs my credit card, hands me another receipt and sends me on my way. Back on the first floor, I hand over my four stamped receipts and receive my sheets and plastic bowls.
And you know what? I too felt like I had truly accomplished something. I felt grateful to get in and out with an actual purchase.
To add to the government’s heavy hand, there’s religion. In Islam, there is another, better life after this one. So, here, once again, is the underlying message -- don’t try to change anything, you don’t have control, it’s all in God’s hands and there is nothing you can do except try to be a good person.
I remember when my father first moved to Moscow and he said something to the effect of "life is simpler in Russia than it is in the US." I remember thinking at the time, "How in the hell can it be easier to live in Moscow?" I think I know what he means now. When so many things are out of reach for the majority of people living in a government-controlled state and in poverty, simple things are more enjoyed. An errand in the US (buying some dumb sheets) was a weeks-long sojourn, a major accomplishment. A game of backgammon when there is no TV and you’ve read all your books. Walking to the market with your husband and spending an hour just picking out the best, cleanest fruits and veggies and chatting with the locals who have time to chat. It doesn’t mean life is easier, but simple things become the sweetness of life. It forces you to slow down and savor each day.
I also remember my only visit to Russia to see my dad and thinking, "wow, he needs so many things, there’s so much lacking." But he didn’t. Nor do we. In unpacking my seven boxes that I had shipped here, there are probably two boxes of useless junk. Five extra purses. Two hairdryers. Gobs of earrings. I call it the de-Americanizing of Elizabeth and Davin. Hopefully, it
sticks.
Things that used to seem important but are no longer:
1. My stupid Palm Pilot. What a piece of irrelevant garbage.
2. Perfectly painted toenails.
3. Keeping up with every new movie that comes out.
4. Trying to stop biting my nails. (Once I moved here and stopped trying, it happened. I have stopped biting my nails.)
5. Cute purses, cute shoes. OK, fashion in general.
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