Beit El Oud El Araby and my experience with AMIDEAST

A student of Anthropology and Linguistics at Montana State University, Gabe Lavin is a 2012-2013 academic year student on AMIDEAST’s Area & Arabic Language Studies Program in Egypt. In this submission, Gabe discusses his involvement with the music community in Cairo and the development of his oud skills.

I came to Egypt to pursue my interest in Arabic music and studies on the guitar-like instrument called the ‘oud’ that I began playing two years before my arrival in Cairo in August of 2012. I immediately jumped into the music scene in Cairo by attending concerts and trying to become acquainted with a diversity of local musicians. AMIDEAST gave me many opportunities to pursue these interests as well through the Community-Based Learning course where I volunteered with the NGO called ‘Makan:’ Egyptian Center for Culture and Art.  The organization focuses on the preservation on traditional Egyptian music. However, after having been in Cairo for about month, and often expressing my interest in the oud and Arabic music, I heard a lot about a place called Beit El Oud and the world famous Iraqi oud virtuoso Naseer Shama who runs the place.

Having played the oud for two years I was familiar with Naseer Shama and his music, but I was not expecting to find out that there would be a potential opportunity to study with him. So, accompanied by one of my friends who I met through the AMIDEAST language buddy program, I set out for Beit El Oud to see what the place was all about. We showed up a little early and met some of the professors and students there and ended up spending the better part of the day there. Later in the evening Naseer Shama showed up and, after enjoying my oud playing, the students there encouraged me to play something for Dr. Shama and inquire about starting lessons and classes. Long story short, I played a little for Naseer Shama, told him I would be in town for about seven more months, and he told me to come in the following Monday to begin my studies.

Beit El Oud El Araby (Arabic oud house) from that day has become central to my experience here in Egypt. Aside from my involvement with ‘Makan’ and AMIDEAST, Beit El Oud is core to my social activities and has provided me with many opportunities to meet people with similar interests – musically and otherwise. All instruction is also in Arabic so I have to use my Arabic in lessons and in music reading classes – not to mention speaking Arabic with all of the friends I have made there. I go to Beit El Oud about three or four times a week and study sight reading and oud technique. In addition, there is a group seminar/rehearsal class with Naseer Shama himself. One of the most amazing things has been forming a personal connection with such a world renowned musician as Dr. Shama, and not to mention the other countless amazing musicians that teach and attend courses at Beit El Oud – many of whom are now my close friends. Overall the environment of Beit El Oud is very relaxing and inviting, as it is meant to be, and it has been the perfect place to create a social life to compliment my studies at AMIDEAST. Some highlights from experiences there so far were playing two concerts, one with Naseer Shama and his orchestra in the Sawy Culture Wheel in Cairo and another in Beit El Oud showcasing the talent of ‘excelling’ students in their program.

A Discussion at Al-Azhar

The entry below was submitted by Area & Arabic Language Studies Spring 2013 Program participant Samual Hobert. A student of International Affairs at The George Washington University in Washington, DC,  in this post Sam reflects on his invitation to hold a discussion with a student club at Al Azhar University in Cairo.

This past Monday, I had the privilege of lecturing at Al-Azhar University’s Faculty of Translation. Founded in 970 A.D., Al-Azhar is one of the world’s oldest universities and one of Egypt’s biggest. A language-learning buddy of mine, Mustafa, invited me to speak in front of the student organization “Spread Your Skills.” The organization, commonly referred to as ”SYS”, was launched by a group of Al-Azhari students to further develop and improve their English language proficiency, a skill increasingly needed in Egypt’s shrinking jobs market. Mustafa, while a member himself, leads the advanced class of students in weekly sessions. Excited as I entered the doors of the school’s building, little did I know how much of an effect this short visit would have not only on my outlook of Egypt but my understanding of education’s power as well.

As I entered the fourth-floor classroom, the greetings I received were sincere and the smiles were wide. Conversation was strictly limited to English and any Arabic was punished by a 1 Egyptian Pound fine – enforced by Mustafa – put towards funding of group outings throughout Cairo. Taking my place behind the professor’s desk in the front of the class I realized that while I had a public-speaking class under my belt, nothing could have prepared my for this moment as forty sets of eyes intently looked onto me, notebooks open, pencils in hand waiting for me to begin.

For forty-five minutes I spoke about the after-effects of 9-11 on American society, the Afghanistan and Iraq War, the Patriot Act, current domestic policy debates, the Great Recession, America’s political crisis, income disparity and the recent Presidential Elections. Why this time period?  For all of us in the room, we had grown up in a world defined by September 11^th.     For me , 9-11 had altered my way of life from changes in airport security and civil liberties, to what I read in the news and thought of as the “bad guy.” Post 9-11 it was more likely to be a man wearing a Turban then a man wearing baggy jeans. I wanted my Egyptian counterparts to better understand the struggles and triumphs the American people have faced since that Tuesday morning, through the eyes of a relate-able college counterpart – my eyes.  Following my conclusion and a brief “Q & A”, a spirited conversation on the perception of Arabs in American mass media ensued, and the importance of cross-cultural understanding in its role of promoting tolerance and defeating ignorance among cultures.

Later that evening, I spent time reflecting on my experience. First and foremost, the power behind education is greatly under-appreciated.  For me, never-before had I been put in a situation where I was the sole authoritative source of information. This power is immense and I felt a moral obligation, a duty, to present accurate facts and paint an honest “bigger picture” appropriately analyzing and connecting the dots in an unbiased and objective fashion. Why is this so important? In twenty, thirty, or forty years, these students will be the world’s next generation of state-officials, industry experts and community leaders. Many will grow up to hold positions of power, and an honest, objective outlook of the world is essential to progressing as a common people. If this view is biased or inaccurate, conflicts will continue, and problems will only compound.

Second, there are many serious social and economic problems Egypt is facing today. The Egyptian Pound continues to fall, unemployment is sky-high, food and gas prices are climbing, sectarian violence is present, the infrastructure crumbling, and the politicians deadlocked. Egypt’s outlook is bleak. However, if there is one source of hope for the country, it is in its students. The enthusiasm and love Egyptian students show for learning – throughout all grades – is amazing, a source of light in the night. As demonstrated at the SYS event, students here continue to want to improve themselves whether in public speaking, language or engineering skills. This mentality, one of self improvement, coupled with a willingness to seek change, and expound effort for it is what will raise this country back from it’s knees and onto its feet.

Jordan Fall 2012 – Reflections

Dickinson College student of Economics, Mary Campbell, participated in AMIDEAST Education Abroad’s Area & Arabic Language Studies Program in Amman, Jordan during the Fall 2012 semester. In this post, she reflects on her semester abroad in the Hashemite Kingdom.

Mansef, the national dish of Jordan, is a popular meal among all locals.  I took this picture at the house of my language partner when she invited me over for lunch with her family.  Having a language partner was a great resource that AMIDEAST provided which was not only important for improving my language skills but also broadening my cultural experience.  For example, at lunch her family was there and anxious to ask me many questions.  The mother did not speak English making it challenging and quite frankly impossible to say everything I wanted to say in Arabic; however, it was worth it after I felt fulfillment knowing that even though I had a limited vocabulary I was able to communicate with someone and form a positive relationship which would have been very difficult otherwise.  In addition, although differences were apparent between my language partner and I, such as religion, academic focus, family life, and location, it was fascinating to learn how we (both being 20 year old college students) had so much in common yet lived in completely different environments.

I love looking back on pictures taken from the scavenger hunt AMIDEAST sent us on during orientation to become acquainted with Amman and interact with Jordanians.  It seems like it was so long ago, yet it was only from a little over a few months ago.  I think back to what I knew when those pictures were taken and how difficult simple interactions in Arabic were and how impossible navigating Amman seemed.  This program has been hugely successful as I have learned so much and come such a long way since the beginning.  Before the program I never would have imagined I had the capability to write a three-page paper about the Muslim Brotherhood in Arabic or to successfully haggle over items in downtown Amman in Arabic.

Pictured are Samir, my host brother, Mama Janet, my host mother, and Madison, an American student living with me.  I feel that my host family experience was extremely beneficial to me because I was forced to use Arabic all the time, as my host mother did not speak English.  It was very difficult adjusting and at first I was afraid to speak with her as much as I should of because of the difficulties associated with our interactions.  Many times I wouldn’t understand her or vice versa and I would become very frustrated.  Not long after realizing that I was not benefiting anyone by not speaking with her often, I decided to initiate more conversations.  Although by the end we still didn’t always understand each other perfectly, I had come to realize that learning a language isn’t about perfection.  In the beginning stages, it is about being able to understand basic ideas and be understood by others.  This involves getting over the fear of making mistakes, which the host family experience definitely allowed me to do.

Reflecting on Fall 2012 in Cairo, Egypt

Elora Kilian is a 2012-2013 academic year student on AMIDEAST’s Area & Arabic Language Studies program in Cairo, Egypt. Hailing from St. Cloud Minnesota, Elora is a student of International Relations at American University in Washington, DC. In her reflection post below, she describes her shift in perception over the fall and hopes for her coming spring semester.

I find it difficult to look back at last semester and reflect on it as a separate section of my life.  It was only two weeks into the semester when I knew I would not be leaving in four months.  There was no way.  I realized that quickly if I ever wanted to get anywhere with the language and really come to understand Egyptian culture, I would have to stay longer.  This is the attitude I brought into the final reflection week.  It was one of nonchalance, as I knew I had an entire additional semester for further personal growth and cultural and academic exploration.

Recently I had the opportunity to sit down with AMIDEAST staff to discuss the successes and shortcomings of how the reflection week was carried out.  For me it was a nice opportunity to reflect on my own reflection.  Upon being asked, it seemed absurd to me that reflection be crammed and compounded into one week at the end of the semester.  How could I possibly think about four whole months of adventures, encounters, stories, personal growth and realizations, and derive meaning out of all of this?  I suddenly became very grateful for the blog I had kept throughout the semester.  Though at times it seemed tedious when I did not have much to say, there were also times when I stopped everything to write about my most recent epiphany.  Without this record I would never be able to return to each step of my journey and examine my perspective at the time.  To me, this is the most effective reflection, looking back at how I have slowly changed overtime, and what I have learned.

When I look though my blog posts, I see a clear shift in my perceptions.  At the start of the semester, many of my observations were external reporting the differences seen visibly.  I discussed clothing, weather, garbage in the streets, lack of vegetation, the cats etc.  Later my understandings became more behavioral, noting Egyptian hospitality, sexual harassment, the purveyance of religion, and perceptions of America and foreigners in general.  At this point I even began to distinguish between the cultural patterns of not only Egyptians, but also the many different cultural groups within the city, such as the Ethiopians and the Sudanese.  Then came the instance when my comprehension turned inwards, from not simply discovering a new culture, but also examining myself.  I think this is most embodied in the page I added entitled “I Have Become”, with every sentence beginning as such.  I began to consider my own identity, behavior, and values, and how these have shaped my experience and how the experience has shaped me.  I began comparing who I am in Egypt, with who I am in America.  I started discussing my hopes for the future.  What do I want to do with my life? What is my purpose?

As one of my friends has said, I have gained my “C” legs, or my Cairo legs.  The world that I once found so strange and confusing has become normal, and now that I am less distracted by the new and unusual wonders that surround me, I can focus on myself.  This next semester will be less about visiting and viewing sights and attractions, and more about developing and crafting my own life in Cairo.

Immersing yourself in an entirely new culture allows you to examine your own culture from a removed perspective.  Removing yourself from your daily life can do the same, and I continue to discover both what Egypt truly is, and who I really am.

Community-Based Learning Project: Reflecting on Alwan wa Awtar

Uditinder Thakur, a student of International Peace and Conflict Resolution at the American University in Washington, DC, participated in AMIDEAST’s fall 2012 Area & Arabic Language Studies program in Cairo, Egypt. In this blog post, he describes the lessons learned from teaching children in Cairo’s poorer suburbs with a local NGO.

It’s remarkable to think that my time at Alwan wa Awtar is coming to an end. It has definitely been an enlightening experience so far, from learning about education to aspects of Egyptian culture, but I would have never thought that I’d come away with the lessons I’ve learned.

I came into my experience with many questions, and even more doubts. Alwan Wa Awtar is an NGO located in the area of Masakan Square, in the town of Moqattam just outside of Cairo. The organization’s goal is to encourage critical thinking through programs geared at cultivating a love for learning among participants. Upon my interview, I was told that the program typically hosted activities including painting, song writing, instrumental music learning, poetry and other forms of art. These are activities that the Egyptian school system’s typically side-line, giving children a reduced level of exposure to the arts. However, to my surprise my coordinator’s were eager to have me start a physical education program as well as a history program when they learned about my previous experience with children. Their willingness to tolerate ambiguity, and encourage me to create a new program for the students, won me over from the start as I saw it as a clear demonstration of their desire to live the same message that they aimed to convey to their students.

It is entertaining to think that much of my time has been spent teaching children values of discipline, hard-work, imagination and peace, while these are the very same reasons why my own father had me enroll in Martial Arts at an early age! I came into my teaching position with high goals, huge lesson plans, and a head full of ideas. I quickly discovered however that the best way to deal with this situation was not to quickly formulate high morals and values to “teach” anyone.

Instead I reformed my goal to one of self-education, teaching through learning.

My approach was based both on my own beliefs and desires, and on ideas and scholarly debates that are at the forefront of the field of education. As a product of the US education system I understand the debate on issues of critical thinking in education versus sheer performance, and I wanted my teaching experience to be an authentic attempt at giving my kids the most that I could offer them in all realms of education.

Egypt’s education system is in many ways a product of the industrial age, similar to education in the U.S. and Europe in the early 20th century. Huge emphasis is placed on performance in the form of test scores, standardized curriculum, and rote memorization. This system was originally formed during the reign of Egypt’s Mohammad Ali, in the early-mid 1800′s. The desire at that point in time was to reinvigorate Egyptian knowledge in regards to mathematics and hard sciences, subjects that the country lagged far behind their European counter-parts in. The result was a neo-liberal approach to education, one in which learning was framed as a means through which the country could ” increase productivity, national income, and socio-economic mobility. The system remains intact today for the most part, as students are separated into classes with strict curricula and a heavy emphasis on memorization and repetition, which very little attention being paid to issues of critical thinking.

This system would be less problematic if it were actually fulfilling its goal of offering opportunities for increased social mobility, but the result has been anything but that. A study by the Social Fund for Development 1995/97 reported that households with a head who had completed only primary school were among the nations poorest. This is to be expected, but the opposite side of these figures are startling. Even for those Egyptians who have degrees, jobs are scarce, and when there are openings they often find that they lack the necessary critical thinking skills to compete. This phenomenon is referred to as the “diploma disease,” in which certificates and degrees of qualification gain such importance that students and faculty sacrifice learning for the sake of routine pedagogical methods. These methods result in hosts of students who have essentially based their entire education on “studying for the test,” while their teachers have based their entire system on “teaching to the test.” Such rigid boundaries on learning are part of the reason why almost 80% of Egypt’s total unemployment rate is composed of individuals who do have a degree, they just don’t have any marketable skills to match it.

It was in response to these pressing issues in Egypt’s education system, that I decided I needed to learn before I taught students. Doing so would give them greater freedom to speak openly, exchange ideas and thoughts at will, and most importantly it would give me a sense of what I was in for. The resulting dialogues were enlightening at least, and remarkably stimulating at best. My students began with topics related to history, and within 10 minutes were engaging in lively debates on the merits of Emperor so-and-so, and the importance of such and such event. They gained a freedom that taught them facts and figures occasionally, but more importantly it taught them and me the value of a new paradigm of viewing education reform. By getting to know my students, I learned more than I ever thought I could…and I’m more than grateful.

—–

My students taught me many things, as can be exemplified by their quotes below. For instance;

“People are all essentially good” – Ali

Lesson?- Self explanatory…people are essentially good!

“Fighting is bad, but what choice do we have? When somebody hits you in public, you’ve got to stand up for yourself.” – Yusef

Lesson?- Sometimes it is much easier to speak with students about their experiences and struggles before throwing morality at them. Starting off with “violence is never good,” is an ideal, but with kids in the real world you have to sometimes help them dream before you can through ideals at them. Learning where they are coming from helps you to formulate better solutions on how to help.

“When can we play? Are we just going to learn today?”- Habiba

Lesson?- The difference between play and learning is hard to surpass, but not impossible. My kids helped teach me just how much their ability to dream had been held back for a long time, and by listening to them first I learned to identify the issues we needed to tackle. Teaching them that they could learn and play at the same-time was only the result of engaging with them actively first.

By dealing with them in a friendly way, while simultaneously asserting a level of authority I was able to get through to them and earn their trust. In doing so I witnessed a marked increased in their desire to learn and show me that they were paying attention, as I had suddenly become a friend they wished to make a good impression on rather than a teacher they had to fear.
Lessons aside, if there is one thing I’ve learned throughout my time with Alwan wa Awtar, it is to take time to learn before teaching. Some of my students taught me the most valuable lessons I could learn here in Egypt. It turns out sometimes the children really ARE our future after all.

Cultural Insight through Moroccan Food

This semester reflection was submitted by Kristina Domaney, a student of Political Science and Psychology at College of the Holy Cross. Prior to direct enrollment her fall 2012 in Al Akhawayn University in Ifrane, Morocco, Kristina participated in a 3-week Pre-Session with AMIDEAST in Rabat. She reminisces about some of her delicious adventures around the country!

Some of my best memories of my first semester in Morocco have involved Attay (Moroccan mint tea), from sitting with my host parents in Rabat just practicing my Arabic to presenting how to make mint tea in Arabic class.

Before entering the country, I was never a tea drinker; I simply turned away at the very sight of tea.  However, within my first week of living in Rabat, I discovered a strong satisfaction for this delightful drink.  Each night after diner (since Ramadan did not permit us having afternoon tea time), my senses would become overwhelmed with the smell of mint and instantly I knew that it would soon be teatime.  My host father would then appear with the detailed, polished teapot, and we would sip the tea while discussing our eventful days.

While I know that I will continue making and drinking Moroccan mint tea when I return home after this experience, I am certain that tea time in America will never come close to replacing the plethora of fond memories I have from this seemingly simple, little drink in Morocco.

This very picture is of the first meal I ate at a Moroccan restaurant.  Vegetable tagine… Yum!  This tasty tagine was from a small, tucked-away restaurant within the Fes souk.  I was pleasantly surprised by how wonderful this colorful plate was.  Also, the dinner was my first experience with the hospitality of Moroccan strangers.  The workers of this restaurant were some of the most warm and welcoming people I had met since my time in the country.  I was so delighted to feel comfortable enough to practice my Arabic and hold a conversation.  Once learning about where my friends and I were from and what we were doing in Morocco, the owner returned to our table with complimentary mint tea!  He told us that it was a gift from him because of the wonderful conversations we all shared.  I was so surprised by and gracious of his amazing hospitality.  I am fortunate to study in such a culturally rich and truly hospitable place.

Freshly squeezed orange juice for just 5 d’s [dirhams]?!  Whaaaat?!  If I even made the slightest effort to think back to how many times my friends and I stopped for some delicious orange juice, I would have a number well over double digits.  Seriously.  My orange juice addiction (along with my Attay addiction) become overwhelmingly within just one semester.

There are fresh orange juice stands in almost every souk I entered, and who could pass up such a refreshing drink?  I certainly couldn’t!  Whenever I would hear guys yelling out as many luring phrases about juice as possible to attract the crowds of people that pass by, I knew that an orange juice stand had to be somewhere in my realm of visibility.  They provided brief breaks from bustling souks and swarms of people as my friends and I would share a moment to enjoy this citric beverage.

“You guys HAVE to try snails!”  This was one of the first suggestions received from my friend Selma (second one in from the right).  She insisted that they were delicious, especially the ones at this stand (the one in the picture) in Ifrane.  Hannah (second in from the left), Selma, Keisha (furthest right) and I gathered around this teeny, tiny snail cart to begin feasting.

The best part was watching Selma pick out the snails from their shells like a pro; she wasted no time!  Soon after, we were all following her lead.  The snail-cart experience was definitely a memorable one.  Since it, every time I even walk past the street, I know exactly what the potent and distinct smell is.

Party Time!

Ryan Anderson, a student at American University in Washington, DC,  is a participant in AMIDEAST’s Area & Arabic Language Studies program in Rabat, Morocco during the Fall 2012 semester. In this post, she describes the mock Moroccan wedding event held by AMIDEAST and reflects on her host family.

So Tuesday was the mock wedding, and our happy couple was elected to be Tom and Elena. It really could not have been a better pairing- both of them not only look good in pictures, but they both have a great sense of humor and chemistry that made the wedding go off with really high spirits. Which was just what everyone needed, since a lot of us had been having bad days. (Namely, me and Jessa. The Wedding cheered us right up!)

Now, you’d think this would be all silly. But our host mom enjoyed this as much as we did, and since the wedding was in the afternoon and all the menfolk in our house were gone, we Bennis girls played dress-up. Bouchra gave us shoes, clothes, jewelry, etc, and had as much fun dressing us as we did dressing like Moroccans. She even sprayed us with perfume.

It didn’t end there, however. She decided that we hadn’t put enough make up on- Rachel and I are both fans of simple, natural, barely there makeup styles. But nope, we were going to a Moroccan wedding, so doggone it, we were gonna have Moroccan makeup! So out came the glitter eyeliner. Yep. Glitter eyeliner got used on me. And apparently I kept smudging it when I blinked, because Bouchra gave up and painted my whole eyelid with it. We both got some fierce eyebrows (which were decidedly more noticable on my strawberry blonde roomie,) blush, etc.

And we looked… well the only word that comes to mind is fabulous. And the wedding was a blast because Bouchra was there with us, and Mamoun even came later. (Seriously, everyone loves Mamoun).

So that day was Bouchra’s birthday as well. Rachel and I had picked her up a fruit tart as a present from us, and after dinner, we got re-dressed Moroccan style, brought out the cake, and 3 different cameras for a photoshoot. And what a photoshoot it was. Photos with Mom, with Dad, with the Brothers, with all the Kids, with both parents… we went a little camera happy. Including our normal Bennis-family-camera-face. My favorite moment was Saleh wanting to take a picture with myself and Rachel, and pulling us in close. Bouchra stood up, and he said “La.” And then essentially “just me and my girls.” It was cute.

All the photos came out great, but my favorite part of the night was uploading them all. Looking at the difference between how we took pictures with them then (awkward space between us for the win), and how we take pictures now, as if we all actually like each other, is astounding.

See? Awkward Spaces.

No Awkward Spaces!

It’s nice to have a second family. (No offense, Family #1)