Lost in culture . . .

Okay, a brief history lesson for my friends who aren't well schooled in international football (soccer for the Americans). Last year there was a tournament called the Confederation Cup in South Africa. Egypt and Algeria were playing each other, and were both trying to qualify for the World Cup (held in June of this year). It came down to one final game for those two teams. Whoever won the game would qualify for the World Cup, and whoever lost wouldn't. Algeria beat Egypt, pretty badly in fact (3 - 0). Anyway, the Egyptians started complaining that the Algerians had only won because they cheated. I wasn't there for the game, but I tend to doubt it. This is an honor-shame culture. Admitting weakness is unthinkable. So if Egypt lost, then the Algerians were obviously cheating. Makes sense, right? There were riots in both Algeria and Egypt after the game. That was all a few months ago.

Fast forward to today. Egypt and Algeria played each other in the semi-final of the Africa Cup a couple hours ago. And Egypt won, quite convincingly in fact (4 - 0). I think they got a few lucky calls from the referee, but they would have won either way. I watched the match at a local coffee shop with some of my friends. And I tried to root for Egypt; I really did. But I was appalled by my friends' behavior. Every time the screen showed one of the Algerian players my friends would shout some lovely things, "ibn el wiskha," "ibn el kelb," "ibn el mitnika!" Roughly translated those mean, "son of a whore," "son of a dog," and "son of (something else I won't translate for you)." But suffice to say that it's not very polite. I was so disturbed by the way that my friends were acting that I was secretly rooting for Algeria on the inside. But I wouldn't tell any of them that.

Anyway, after the match ended I decided to head home. But I was completely taken aback by what I saw when I stepped outside. The first thing I saw was a bunch of young men dancing in the street, burning Algerian flags. Besides my initial surprise of wondering where you find an Algerian flag in Egypt, I was left speechless. These people are burning the flag of another country over a football match! And people are dancing around cheering! I decided to hang out on the street for a while just to see a little more of what was going on. I'm back at home now but I can still hear the car horns in the street, despite the fact that the game ended almost an hour ago.

Egyptians have a method of celebrating called the "zafa." In involves getting as many people together as you can, piling into as many automobiles as you can find, and driving up and down the street honking your horn. It happens mostly for wedding and football games, but occasionally takes place for other things as well. They'll probably celebrate way into the night.

But I think the thing that had the most profound impact on me was the flag burning. Consider how hard it is to come by an Algerian flag in Egypt. These people obviously put some thought and effort into preparing to do this. I can't wrap my brain around that kind of anger and bitterness. Over football! And I thought I was bad about holding grudges!

Okay, so this probably isn't my most culturally-sensitive post ever. If I have some massive cultural revelation on this in the next couple of days, I'll be sure to let you know.

By the way, the cheering and honking is showing no signs of winding down any time soon . . .

Surprise visit!

Okay, here's the random story of the day. I was in my apartment at about eight o'clock last night when I heard a knock at the door. I went downstairs to see who it was. I found my neighbor's four year old son standing at the door with one of his friends. He told me that he wanted to come visit me.

I was a little suspicious of a four year old coming over to hang out for the evening, so I went outside with them and walked down the street to a small market. I bought them both lollipops, sat on the curb with them, and explained that they couldn't come over and visit without their fathers. But my neighbor's son said, "we just want to sit on your balcony for a while." I told them, "sorry guys, but you can't visit without your fathers."

While I was sitting there talking to them, I heard someone in the street say, "what is that foreigner doing sitting with two little kids?" I live in a pretty small neighborhood and my neighbors are all related to each other. So I figured it wasn't going to be too long before the kid's father heard about it. I asked a friend today if I should go talk to the father or not. He told me not to make a special visit just to tell him about it, but to tell him the next time that I saw him. But I was a little nervous that someone else might tell him before I did, so I went hunting. I finally tracked him down in a barber shop watching a football game between Algeria and Ivory Coast.

I waited until halftime, then asked him to come outside with me. I took him across the street and told him that his son had come by last night, that I'd taken him down the street to the market, bought him candy and talked to him for a bit. I explained that in my culture it's not really okay for a small child to go visit a grown man. I was nervous while I was talking to him, not knowing how he was going to react.

After I finished talking, he looked at me and said, "okay, I'll beat him when I get home." I told him, "No, no, no! That's not why I'm telling you this. I just wanted you to hear from me instead of from someone else." He told me that his son just wanted to be friends with whoever his dad is friends with. I'm not really thrilled about him beating his son later on tonight, but I'm glad that he took the news as well as he did. I can only imagine what I would think if someone told me they saw a grown man sitting with my son in the evening, feeding him candy.

Too much gel . . .

Hey there,

So, the other day I decided that my hair was getting a little shaggy and it was time for a haircut. There's a Palestinian barber that I usually go to every few days to get a shave. He's a nice guy and I like him, but it's a little awkward every time I go. The other guys at the barber shop always tell him that this is his chance to take revenge on an American. They all laugh and seem to think it's an incredibly funny joke. But that notwithstanding, I enjoy going there.

Anyway . . . I've had the same hairstyle for about the last year and a half, so I decided it was time for a change. I told the barber to give me a hairstyle that he thought looked good. I took my glasses off and didn't see much of what he was doing while he was cutting my hair. But at the end I noticed him reaching for a bottle of hair gel and thought, "this is going to be fun." After much time gelling my hair he let me put my glasses back on and take a look.

I had to stifle a smile & a giggle. Living here for the last year and a few months, I should have known what kind of haircut I was going to get. I paid, told him how great I thought it looked, then immediately went home and washed all the gel out of my hair.

I think fashion may be one part of the culture I'm not quite ready to embrace yet. :)

I thought I was the only one . . .

Hey guys,

I had an odd experience last night. I traveled to a town about an hour south of here to visit a friend. I stopped in at his place, had some tea, and chatted with him for a while. At about ten in the evening he told me that he was going to a wedding, and he wanted me to come with him.

I've been to lots of Egyptian weddings, and I always find them a bit awkward. I usually wind up at them because I'm visiting someone and they decide to take me with them to the wedding (just like last night). But invariably once I'm there, the person who brought me runs into a long-lost relative and spends the entire evening talking to them. I usually end up wandering around, trying to find someone to talk to, and explaining what a white person is doing at the wedding.

Based on past experience, I usually try to steer clear of weddings if I can. But last night it was unavoidable. So here I am, about half an hour outside of the nearest town. As usual, my host left me to fend for myself. I was standing around trying to blend into the background when something caught my eye. You know how sometimes you see something that just doesn't look quite right? I noticed someone standing off to the right who seemed about as out of place as me. I took a closer look, and it was a white girl. Not really sure where she was from. If I had to guess I'd say maybe German or French.

It stuck me as so odd that I didn't even try to talk to her. Not that she would've been able to understand me anyway. The music was incredibly loud! Usually they turn the music up so loud that the speakers buzz and distort the music, then people get microphones and try to sing over the music. It's funny, you can actually understand the music better from about half a kilometer away than you can inside the tent :)

I thought it was kind of funny. Out on the middle of nowhere at a wedding I don't really belong at, and I run into another foreigner. Weird, huh?

Okay, that's it for now. Peace . . .