trash city and a birder's paradise

With one day left in Cairo before returning to Amman, I set out early. There was little to see in the morning since business seems to start later in the day. I went to the famous Khan al-Khalili, an ancient souq that evidently now caters to non-existent tourists and wannabe belly-dancers. Most of the shops were shuttered, but I was able to find some open cafes and one small restaurant that served Egyptian pancakes, which are like crepes but thicker and crispier. I ordered one with banana and nutella and I was instantly disappointed that I had not discovered this dish earlier during my stay.  I decided to wander around the souq some more. Most alleys in Khan al-Khalili are very narrow, meaning that they are dark even at 10am. It was mostly deserted, but every once in a while I would see a few men cross in front of me and then disappear down another side street. After running into a few dead ends and being forced to backtrack, I realized I was on my own and trapped in a maze with not nearly enough people around to feel comfortable. I headed back to the main road and just as I was approaching the edge of the souq a group of men stared at me and one said to his friends, “Look, it’s an Israeli.” I turned back and glared at him and felt like yelling at him. I do not know how much better it would be to say, “No, I’m an American!” but I was furious that anyone would say that especially when I was already in such a vulnerable position. Of course, I do not really care about being mistaken for an Israeli, but this was not a neutral comment about my presumed nationality, it felt more like incitement.

My next stop was al-Azhar Park. On my way I crossed over a hill on a busy street and as I approached the top I could see through the smog and dust three orange pyramids towering over the city. It was incredible. I was looking over most of Cairo and the Nile and I could still see the massive structures clearly. I think it takes seeing the pyramids from that far away to really understand just how huge they are. I visited them in 2008 and for a few reasons I did not feel like it was necessary to see them up close again. Seeing them by accident is so much better. Unfortunately, a picture would not have done it justice.

I arrived at al-Azhar Park before noon and reluctantly paid the entrance fee, thinking “It’s just a park, how great could it be?” As soon as I walked through the gates I was transported to another world with towering palm trees, fountains, and spotless granite walkways. Even the pollution seemed to dissipate inside the huge park. 

I was determined to see every corner of the park that seemed to be Egypt’s answer to New York’s Central Park. The views onto the rest of Cairo were amazing and I was overwhelmed by all the different bird species I came across. Hoopoes, White Wagtails, Warblers, Pied and White-breasted Kingfishers, Laughing Doves, Hooded Crows, Red-vented Bulbuls, and finally, wild Ring-necked Parakeets.

 I sat by the main pond, ordered tea from the outdoor cafe and watched the kingfishers (apparently known as ‘riff raff’ in Arabic). One Pied Kingfisher was a particularly bad hunter and kept dropping his live catch back in the pond and usually failed at retrieving it. 

I was getting up to leave the pond and explore more when a teenage girl approached me with her friends. She yelled at me in English saying “I love you, I love you!” It was really annoying and kind of aggressive and then I realized that that is exactly what some Egyptian men do, but when they do it it is perceived as sexual harassment. A lot of verbal sexual harassment in Egypt and Jordan is in English and I have always felt that the meanings and connotations of the words they use are lost on them, whether they are repeatedly asking me my name or calling me a bitch. This type of harassment is usually considered sexual because it is almost always directed at women and accompanied with other sounds and gestures. If it was a group of men saying that to me at the park, I definitely would have seen it as a form of sexual harassment, but who is to say that men who shout “I love you!” at me and other foreign women are not simply exercising their limited English or making their friends laugh like these girls were? Of course, I do not want to reduce the plague of sexual violence and harassment in Egypt to young men joking around, but I think that this experience with the girls made me realize that at least some of it is just teenagers being obnoxious and overly-excited by foreigners.

I circled around the park and came to the top of a hill where no one else was sitting. After a few minutes I was approached by a husband and wife, a Malaysian Muslim couple touring Cairo. They wanted me to photograph them in front of the mosque. The husband and I were able to converse flawlessly in Arabic and it was a really satisfying feeling, even more so than speaking to an Arab. I feel like Arabs are the obvious target of my language studies, so when I can speak to people of completely different backgrounds and nationalities, who I otherwise would not be able to communicate with, it is really enjoyable to me. After they left I took some of my own pictures of the view and noticed a man on his roof waving a big blue cloth. I knew immediately what it was and I was excited to see it in person. In Jordan they are known as ‘kashasheen’ (one is a kashash) and they are the men that raise and fly pigeons from coops that they keep on the roof. Their pigeons are prized possessions and a lot of money is invested in this hobby--some pigeons can cost as much as $1,000 a bird. But it is not all about money. As one kashash put it, “You get to a stage where you can build a fortune with the birds, and yet you feel that the birds are much better to have than the money.” Quoted from this NYT article. This hobby is also interesting because it is a crime. In Jordan, flying pigeons is illegal because it often involves theft. When different flocks of pigeons belonging to different kashasheen are flying around the city, some pigeons will defect to another flock, so when that flock returns to its owner the new pigeon (which may be worth hundreds of dollars) effectively belongs to a different owner. Kashasheen are so distrusted in Jordan that they are not allowed to testify in court and their signatures on many documents are considered worthless. One of my professors said that people fight and kill over these pigeons, a few murders each year being attributed to pigeon disputes. In this picture you can see the pigeons and the coop on the closest right-hand building. You cannot see the man in this picture, but he was waving the blue cloth to attract the pigeons back home.

I never wanted to leave the park. It is such an incredible oasis in the middle of Cairo. But, I still had a lot to see. I walked past the Islamic quarter and saw the Mosque of Muhammad Ali (pictured) and the Citadel. South of this area is ‘trash city’ in the neighborhood of Manshiyat Naser. I walked around the area for a long time, but too much exploring or photography felt strange to me. It really was not that different from a normal lower class neighborhood and was not the horrible, littered slum that one would imagine from a name like ‘trash city.’ Wandering south I found one of the most stunning mosques I have ever seen. It is certainly not in use, but striking simply because it is so old with no apparent attempt at restoration. I caught a cab near it and asked the driver what year it was built.

“It’s old.”

“Yeah, but from what era?”

“It’s really really old.”

Luckily I was able to locate it now on Google Maps and it is called the Mosque and Mausoleum of Shahin al-Khalawati, built in 1538. Shahin was a mystic born in Iran and after serving as a soldier in Qaitbay’s army, he retired in Cairo to build this mosque which included his own burial place, where he is said to have lived alone for 30 years without ever going into Cairo. More here: http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/2000/504/feature.htm

Back in downtown Cairo I got my last meal of koshari and sat between Tahrir Square and the National Museum. As I was eating, some official approached me and told me I could not wait around there. He inquired about my nationality, what I was doing, if I was alone, and he saw me off as I walked further down the street. I stopped again at the other end of Tahrir and was approached by an elderly man with pretty good English. We talked for a while about the U.S., which state I was from, where his children live. He then tells me that he is a journalist that covers politics, then he explains that he is actually a politician, then he says he is an art dealer and a business man. At this point I am on to him and realize that an invitation to his manuscript shop or “gallery” is in the near future. He then asks me if I want to walk down the street with him to see his art store. I realize that this sounds like a kidnapping waiting to happen, but it really is just an invitation to his shop where I am certain he tries to pass off banana paper as ‘real papyrus’ to unsuspecting tourists. Five other invitations like this had been offered to me earlier that day and five more were yet to come. I had little to do that evening, but whatever I could find would be better than following a guy with two teeth and a forged press pass into a back alley. I tell him no thanks.

“Why not?”

“Because,” I look away, sweaty and exhausted, “I don’t want to.”

“Ha, okay.” And he ambles down the road. 

It is moments like these when I think about just how valuable independent travel is for women. Young women, especially. Invitations and propositions are piled onto you and often the only correct response is “No, thanks” and the only honest reason is “Because I don’t want to.” It sounds so basic, but it is a really useful skill to have.

I walked along the Nile and found a riverside cafe to sit down at, unmolested. I spent the whole time photographing the river and the kingfisher couple nearby:

Yesterday a demonstrator, Shaimaa al-Sabbagh, was killed in Talaat al Harb, the circle next to the hostel I stayed at the night before I left. She was participating in a non-violent demonstration when she was shot by security. Look at this article, but probably not the videos: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/25/world/middleeast/egypt-woman-is-killed-in-peaceful-cairo-protest.html?_r=0

 I realize that I can be in Cairo and see something completely different than the reality of what is happening there. I felt safe and it is difficult to imagine this happening on the streets where I was just walking days ago. I realize that no matter how good my Arabic is, no matter how many years I end up living in the Middle East, I will never be a part of this world or a part of the profound struggle for change that is happening in every Arab nation. This is not something I am envious of, but it does widen the gaping chasm that is between me and any real understanding of what it means to be a citizen of these countries that I visit.

I headed back to my hostel to gather my luggage and find a cab. When I arrived in Amman at 1am, I was greeted with much more questioning than usual at the visa desk. Where exactly do you live here? What are you studying? Why are you studying Arabic? Why were you in Yemen? Egypt? etc. I asked them why they were so curious this time around but I got no response. The most questioning I have ever gotten at the airport was regarding where I study in Jordan. Security seems to be ramped up in the downtown areas, too but I am not sure why. Here are some miscellaneous pictures from Cairo (including a Mohamed Morsi sign):