Second try: success! And an Arabic lesson from an American Jew

Left: the drink the guy on the bus was laughing hysterically about. The other side has the Arabic, it's spelled the same way I spell my name.


12/30

Checked out early to try the bus to el-Arish again. Same time, 4:30, 30 LE. Somehow I sat one row in front of an Asian guy, I think he was Japanese, without even noticing. I heard him speaking English after a few minutes and realized I was once again violating the first rule of human rights work.

Got to the first checkpoint at 6:45 (times from memory, on why see below). They took the Asian guy and the Arab guy sitting next to him off the bus, I assume they were here for the Gaza Freedom March. Again, the soldiers didn’t ask for my passport, and that British guy was nowhere to be seen, so we continued on.

Got to the second checkpoint at 7:25. A uniformed soldier got on the back and asked for everyone’s IDs. I pretended not to understand him, so he repeated himself, and I got my passport out, thinking “Damn it, back to Cairo.” In the most Hollywood moment I’ve ever experienced, just as I was handing the guy my passport someone outside the bus yelled something, he withdrew his hand as his fingers were closing down on the document, yelled “meshee!” (I think it’s the equivalent of “okay”) and walked off the bus. I’m glad I delayed every second I could. I don’t know exactly where the second checkpoint was, but right after it we went over the “Mubarak Peace Bridge”.

Got to the third checkpoint around 8:30. Again, they asked for everyone’s ID, this time the guy was in plainclothes. I opened my passport to the visa page and he just looked at it confused, flipped through the pages and found my picture, and then handed it back to me. It reminded me of being in Hebron.

Got to the fourth checkpoint, right on the outskirts of el-Arish, and they again asked for everyone’s ID. Again, the guy was in plainclothes. I showed him my passport and he asked me to get off the bus. “Damn it, now I’m really going back to Cairo!” I thought. I quickly deleted the diary I’d been keeping in my iPhone Notes app. Every time I’d passed a checkpoint I’d noted the time and described what had happened. I didn’t want them thinking I’m a spy of some kind. Paranoid perhaps, but better than getting thrown into an Egyptian military prison.

Nobody at the outpost spoke enough English to communicate with, they just kept saying “tourist?” And I kept saying “no, student.” I don’t know why I didn’t just say yes I’m a tourist, but I figured there’s no point in getting arrested for lying. Plus I said I was here for the purposes of study when I landed. Since little information was being exchanged I said, “Shouf” (look), and handed them the letter from Harvard that I’d had translated. Never again will I say Harvard’s name isn’t worth anything.

The guy who had taken me off the bus found two other people to read the letter with, and when they figured out what it said the guy called someone on his cell phone, which I thought was hilarious. No pretense that this military checkpoint is for military purposes, otherwise you’d obviously want a secure connection to whatever base you’re calling.

I think they kept me at the checkpoint for about an hour, nobody was ever rude or aggressive. During that time I met a Jordanian in his early twenties who studies engineering at Sinai University in el-Arish (as far as I could gather; again he didn’t speak a word of English, which I thought was odd for an educated Jordanian engineer) and an old man whom I couldn’t communicate with at all. I find it much more difficult to understand people over forty when they speak Arabic for some reason, maybe they don’t even try to dumb it down for me?

I sat around smoking with the soldiers, who laughed at my every attempt at Arabic, it was quite enjoyable aside from the surrounding circumstances. After about an hour, they said “please, you go Arish” and sent me on my way. They flagged a taxi down for me, told the driver to go to Sinai Sun where I told them I’m staying, and sent me off.

One thing I noticed: there’s no pretense that, because they took me (or anyone else) off the bus they should accommodate me in getting to el-Arish. For the old man going to Arish, they flagged down the next vehicle that went by, a supply truck of some kind, and just told the driver to take him to el-Arish. For the engineering student, they flagged down a flatbed truck that he then had to jump in the back of (it must have been absolutely freezing to drive the ten or so miles we were from Sinai University, which looks really nice from the outside). For me, they flagged down a taxi, assuming I had the money to pay for it. I wonder what would have happened if the old man or the student had been given the taxi instead. How would they pay for it? Maybe the student could afford to but I really doubt the old man could. Dynamics of a police state, I guess.

Got to Sinai Sun. It’s exactly how it was described on the Internet: a “quirky three-star”. The bathroom has a small open sewage pit, my eyes burn just being in the room, for some reason there’s a refrigerator in my room that’s bigger than the closet, the TV is smaller than my laptop, the pillow feels like it’s made out of boxing gloves, the blanket feels like it’s made of sandpaper, only one of the outlets in the room works, and there’s a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. None of the surfaces have been cleaned in quite some time judging from the thick dust layer. But, it costs 50 LE per night, which is less than the hostel in Cairo cost, so I can’t complain. The taxi driver drove past two luxury beach resorts, he pointed them both out. I recognized their names, can’t remember them now, and I said “ah, mazbood?” (“are they good?”, or my best approximation). He goes “aiwa. Fyave stare”, meaning “five star”. Then he started clapping for some reason, it was pretty funny. I asked “Sinai Star?” And he goes “eh, nos nos.” It literally means “half and half”, but I think he was trying to say it’s kind of crappy.

I was exhausted at the end of the trip across the Sinai, I wanted to go to Rafah in the morning since I figured my luck was on a role, but it was a little too much. I’ll try going tomorrow early in the morning, even though it’s Friday (the Arab weekend is usually the end of Friday and Saturday). Hopefully it’ll work, otherwise I’ll just come back here and extend my stay by two days, then try again on Sunday.

Oh so close… Looking forward to seeing the beach tomorrow, even though it’s fairly cold here. I need some Vodafone minutes too. I think Mom and Dad tried to call yesterday while I was on the bus but I didn’t want to be conspicuous by yelling into the phone in English “NO, I’M NOT IN GAZA YET! CAN YOU HEAR ME??”, so I didn’t pick up.

And the Arabic lesson: apparently Egyptians won't understand "anna mbkeesh arabi" because that's Palestinian Arabic. According to Matt Cassel, I should be saying "anna btkalam arabi". Ugghhhh...

Stuck in Cairo

Left: View of Cairo from the hostel roof. Every apartment building roof is covered with satellite dishes.









12/28

Woke up at 6 am and ate breakfast at the hostel (which they provided: one hardboiled egg and two pieces of bread with some jam and spreadable cheese, woohoo!) and then had another breakfast from a street vendor. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Saba alkhrer (good morning).

Him: Saba anoon (the response to "saba alkhrer")

Me: asaf, anna mbkeesh arabi (sorry, I don't speak Arabic)

Then I pointed to what someone else was eating, having no idea what it was. The vendor just laughed and gave me what I assume was the same thing. It was some vegetables and in bread with some kind of sauce, it wasn't bad. I still haven't seen anyone selling koshery, I heard it was everywhere in Cairo.

There's a big Starbucks-looking store across the street from the hostel called Costa Café, I went in and got a coffee. It's amazing how much I miss brewed coffee, the only thing available in most of the Arab world is instant coffee, and bad instant coffee.

Headed to the embassy again, which thankfully was only five minutes away from the hostel (five pound cab ride, less than a dollar). At the end of the street that the hostel is on there's a McDonalds, next to a Pizza Hut, next to a KFC, next to a Hardees. Who thought it was a good idea to open a Hardees in Egypt? Other than the McDonalds all of them were empty.

I told the embassy staff what had happened yesterday, and they said I should have contacted the Egyptian embassy before I left the US (which of course I did, and they said I didn't need to do anything beforehand) to get their permission to go to Gaza.

I told them the Egyptian police had said I need special permission from the Egyptian government to travel to el-Arish, and that since I don't know how to contact the Egyptian government myself I'm coming to my embassy so they can help me do so.

"No, we can't do that."

My embassy can't help me liaise with the government of the country in which the embassy is located?

"No, I'm sorry."

Isn't that why we have an embassy, so you can help Americans in foreign countries contact the government of that country when they need to?

"No, we don't do that."

The American embassy in Egypt doesn't help Americans communicate with the Egyptian government?

"Not for going to Gaza."

But you said you can provide consular services when I'm still in Egypt, just not when I'm in Gaza.

"No, we can't."

So apparently the American embassy isn't just powerless when it comes to Americans on the Gaza side of the Gaza-Egypt border, it's even powerless to help Americans in their office in Cairo contact the Egyptian government. Be warned people: the United States of America is officially the most helpless country in the world.

To be fair, I'm sure the staff was told to tell anyone inquiring about anything related to Gaza that they can't help. After a while (I think when they realized I really am not part of the march and wasn't just lying to them about it) the staff suggested I get the letters from Harvard and the Mezan Center translated so that I can show them to the soldiers on the way to el-Arish and at Rafah, so I did that across the street in a lawyer's office. I'm pretty sure the guy who runs the place had his twelve-year-old daughter do the translation, he didn't speak a word of English (and she didn't speak much more, hopefully the Arabic letter makes some sense).

Other than that, I just sat around the hostel all day. I don't have much interest in spending money in Cairo, and I certainly don't want to go alone to see Giza. Getting around the city is quite expensive, especially when you ask to go to a hotel or another tourist destination, as is admission to the tourist attractions themselves. If I'm going to spend money anywhere here I'd rather it be Gaza. I wouldn't mind going to see that October War Museum I passed in the taxi on the way to al-Maza, but I'm guessing it's not all that informative.

While sitting around the hostel some woman from Montreal came in and, once again, started yelling at everyone because they didn't find her reservation instantaneously. "This is not a hard job!" she yelled. I really don't understand how Egyptians put up with this crap. When they finally did find her reservation they had given her room away because she had made the reservation over the Internet, but hadn't paid a deposit. "Nobody told me to make a deposit!" They kept apologizing to her and said they would put her up in another hostel where there is room.

"And now I have to carry my bag over there!? It is very heavy and I am tired!!" she yelled. "And to pay for a cab!" No, they said, we'll pay for your cab and carry your bag.

"But now I must go somewhere else!" What else can we do ma'am?

The staff walked out of the lobby to call a cab, so I tried to make small talk with the lady. "Where did you come in from?" She replied "Montreal" but in the slurred way of Quebecois French, and I was expecting a country name, so I didn't understand her.

"Sorry, from where?"

"FROM CANADA!" she screamed.

"Uh huh. Thanks." Canadians in Montreal definitely do not act like that towards each other.

The hostel doesn't have space for me for tonight, so I found a cheap hotel (the Pyramids Egypt Hotel) for $50/night. I was worried they would charge me taxes and fees above and beyond that but they didn't, and they provide a free breakfast, and they're in downtown Cairo, so I figure I can just walk around here and smoke sheesha until I'm actually able to get in to Gaza.

As far as what I'm going to do about going to Gaza: the embassy, despite being annoying as hell, told me that all of this will probably blow over after December 31 (I think the march was scheduled for New Year's Eve), and suggested I go then. I'm going to call the Egyptian embassy in DC today, I just need to figure out how to make international phone calls here.

First try, or rule number one of human rights work

12/27

The first rule of human rights work is don't sit near other foreigners on the bus, especially if the locals all think you're one of them.

Checked out of Novotel and took a cab to the US Embassy in the morning. To go to Gaza the embassy asks that you sign a waver that says you understand a) they don't want anyone going there, b) they won't help you there, and c) people get stuck there all the time and they can't do anything about it. The weak little State Department wants to help, but what power could they possibly have over the mighty Egyptians?

I'd never been in an embassy before, the security is tight but not as strict as I expected. The major security investment seems to be in keeping car bombers away from the embassy buildings, probably wise. The embassy staff, all Egyptians, were very polite and helpful, even though everyone's astonished response to why I was in Egypt was: "to study...in Gaza?"

In the American Citizens Service waiting room I met a woman and her maybe thirteen-year-old daughter who had been in Egypt for nine months for no reason they could explain other than that they wanted to be. I asked her how her daughter was continuing in school and she just said "oh, yeah, they wanted to put her in school, but here they don't mix boys and girls." I wasn't sure what that had to do with anything. She then went off on Egyptians for breastfeeding in public: "it's so fucking disgusting." Her father had died just before Christmas and so she wanted to go back to the US, but she couldn't afford to do so, and so had come to the embassy to see if they could get her back. I think they did, she looked hopeful when I was leaving.

After the embassy I headed to the central bus station, al-Maza, and got a bus to el-Arish. I was planning on staying in a hotel there, then heading to Rafah the next morning. On the way there the cab driver, not accepting that I don't speak Arabic, kept pointing to something on the right. It looked like a military museum so I just said "ah, good", but then I realized it was a museum specifically devoted to the 1973 War. I've read (and can believe) that this war was a defining moment in modern Egyptian history, so I became more enthusiastic and said "ah, mabruk!" ("congratulations"). I think he was trying to tell me that he fought in the war, given his age I could believe it. He had a huge smile on his face.

On the bus I had the unpleasant experience of meeting European activists. They mean well I presume but I found them incredibly annoying and truly obnoxious. The first one was a Frenchman of Algerian descent; he probably weighed 250 lbs and thought everyone was his best friend. He started off speaking to me in Arabic, then in English. "I feel sorry for American people. Because I am from France. And because I am in France we have the truth." I wanted to punch him in his fat face, an Algerian should know full well the character of the French intelligentsia.

"You know what is the worst government in the world? It is not Iran, no. And it is not, uh, Chavez, it, umm, Venezuela. No, it is the American Zionist government." I hadn't said a word about Iran or Venezuela; actually, I hadn't said a word beyond "ana amriki".

"Yes, it is this. Because, I went to Iran. I spoke with a historian and he explained everything to me, he told me that these people who say to have a beard, to make women wear the hijab, he told me that they are not from Iran, they are from the Occident," meaning the West. I'm no fan of the nonsense we hear about Iran in the US, but what the hell was this guy talking about? The US has certainly been at the forefront of funding, training and organizing fundamentalist Islamic crazies, but I'm pretty sure Osama bin Laden is still an Arab.

The Algerian Frenchman was sitting next to a sixty-something-year-old British man who lives "on the Mount of Olives". At one point the Egyptian law student I mention below asked him "where you are from?" The guy responded "Jerusalem." The kid asked, "where?" The guy said again, "Jerusalem." The kid asked again, "from where?"

The British guy then flew into a rage, screaming at the kid "I'M FROM JERUSALEM! SURELY YOU'VE HEARD OF JERUSALEM! I LIVE ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES!! IN YIS-RAEL!" which he pronounced with a condescending hiss, assuming the kid was trying to get him to say "al-Quds" or "Palestine" or something. The whole bus was turned around looking at him. He apparently didn't understand that even Israelis who don't speak English won't understand "Jerusalem", it doesn't sound like "Yeru-shelaim", which is how it's pronounced in Hebrew and Arabic.

So I said, "min al-Quds", ("from Jerusalem", al-Quds is the Arabic name for the city), and the kid just, apparently not at all picking up on the British guy's hostility, says "ah, Yerushelaim! I want to say [meaning pronounce] like Arabic way! Hehe!" To which the British guy shook his head in disgust, for absolutely no reason.

The British guy kept going on and on about "seeking justice" which he claimed is a phrase that appears over and over again in the Bible, but which I certainly don't recall (granted, I haven't read the Bible in quite some time). That British man is my least favorite person in the world at the moment, see below on why.

The young Egyptian I mentioned above had just graduated from law school. His English was broken but we could definitely communicate, and he was rather interesting. He wasn't afraid to say how much he hates the Egyptian government and Mubarak in particular. "I love law!" he kept saying; Richard Goldstone would have been proud if it had stopped there. His problem with Egyptian law was that it doesn't take Sharia law as its main input, but instead as one of many. He went into a long explanation of how, why and under what circumstances someone's limbs should be amputated if they are caught stealing, what the punishment for adultery should be, etc. I just listened.

Like most Arabs do in my experience, he started asking about the US, and what the American people think of Arabs, about Islam, etc. I told him honestly that most Americans don't know anything about Arabs or Islam other than what they hear on the news, which is almost always negative. But Americans also have common sense, and if you speak to them you usually find out that they find it hard to believe that all Arabs and all Muslims are just crazed lunatics.

We crossed over the Suez Canal; it was dark so I couldn't really see anything. Thirty minutes east of the Suez we came to a police checkpoint. Two cops, one plainclothes, came on the bus and essentially took everyone they thought was a foreigner off. They didn't ask for my passport and I didn't offer it, and the old British guy just kept pretending he didn't understand that they wanted him to get off the bus. We waited for probably half an hour while they argued with the foreigners outside (someone from the bus translated I think). After a while the cops came back on the bus to collect the old man, who again pretended he didn't understand. Again, didn't ask for my passport and I didn't offer it. The guy I had been talking to, the lawyer, started speaking to me in English and I told him to shut up.

Finally the cops brought someone with them who spoke English perfectly (another plainclothes policeman, it turned out later), who told the old man very explicitly that he needed to get off the bus. He huffed and puffed and then points at me and says "Well why doesn't he have to go?" They looked at me and started speaking in Arabic, and then I had no choice but to get off the bus with him. I couldn't believe how unbelievably stupid that guy was. Some people have absolutely no sense. The cops were all polite, to their credit; if I had to deal with these people in any oppositional way I would have lost my temper in about five minutes.

Off the bus it turned out there were two Germans, two French (including the Algerian windbag), this British guy, a Spanish woman, and me. The Brit goes up to the cops and starts yelling in English (which only one of them understood well enough to translate, which he didn't do) "I'm very upset! Who do I complain to?!", apparently not realizing he was standing in the Sinai. I'm opposed to murder, but if the Egyptians had asked someone to execute him I might have volunteered.

The Algerian guy, meanwhile, was screaming at the soldiers (in English; not sure why given that he spoke Arabic) "I'm going back to Cairo and getting right on a plane! I won't give Mubarak one more cent!" I'm sure the soldiers were devastated? Then he lays his prayer mat down, washes his hands and feet, and starts praying.

The soldiers (it was actually a military checkpoint, the cops were there for foreigners specifically it seems) flagged down a bus heading back to Cairo and we got on, paid another 20 Egyptian pounds (a little more than three dollars), and then waited another twenty minutes. I couldn't figure out why.

After twenty minutes, the Algerian Frenchman got on the bus. The bus driver came over to him and asked him for the twenty pounds the bus costs, and the guy literally threw four five pound notes at him, as if it was his fault he had to get off the bus to el-Arish. Then he starts yelling at four random people on the bus "I was praying! I was praying! And they made me come to the bus!"

I met another guy on the bus back to Cairo, a young swim coach and physical trainer (from what I gathered), going to Cairo from el-Arish to visit his family. He spoke about 20 words of English, and I speak about 20 words of Arabic, yet somehow we were able to communicate for two hours like this. I couldn't get him to understand "student doctor" so I just gave up and told him I'm a doctor (sorry Dr. Clare), so he called me "doctor Fairooz" for the rest of the trip, and would then burst into hysterical laughter. Apparently "fairooz" in Egypt is a soft drink of some kind (Palestinians, on the other hand, always say I have a woman's name because of a famous Lebanese singer, Fairooz). He was a really nice guy; "we make friend!" he kept saying and then grabbing my hand or leg in the typical Arab way. He gave me his phone number, even though there's no possible way we could communicate over the phone, and kept telling me to call him. I think he even offered to smuggle me to el-Arish, how wasn't clear, but I wasn't really interested in any case.

We reached another police checkpoint, this time they wanted everyone on the bus to open bags (apparently large amounts of drugs are smuggled from Sinai to Cairo, who knew?). The German woman, the only European who hadn't been ridiculous up to that point, got out and started complaining to the soldiers "I am a free citizen! Of a free country!" They laughed, probably because she was making a fool of herself. They kept looking at me and speaking in Arabic, I couldn't understand them but I just kept saying "magnoon" and shrugging ("crazy", or my best approximation) and giving them cigarettes. Eventually she opened her bag of course, just like everyone else did.

The taxi ride from al-Maza was too ridiculous to describe. Needless to say it did not improve my image of these people that they had no idea where "hotel Cecilia" was, and that they were furious with the driver because he didn't know where it was, either. It's the top floor of a nondescript apartment and office building with a sign the size of my laptop, why the hell would anyone know where it is? The guy drove us around for an hour and they wanted to give him 50 pounds, less than $10, so I gave him an extra 50. (To be fair, they were nice about it afterward and each gave me 10 pounds more.)

I stayed at their hostel (Cecilia "hotel"); 70 pounds (as opposed to 1000 pounds at Novotel).

All in all: today was a waste of time. I could have done without meeting the foreign contingent, and without the five hours of wasted bus travel. The latter was to be expected on this journey, but not the former. I think it might have constituted cruel and unusual punishment.

Boston to Paris to Algiers to Cairo (boring post, warned in advance)

12/25-26

The flight wasn't bad at all. For some reason a sandwich and small glass of orange juice costs $11 in the Algiers airport, I don't think it would have been that much in JFK.

To travel through Algiers, even if you aren't leaving the airport, you apparently need a "transit visa". The possibility hadn't even occurred to me, so I hadn't obtained a visa beforehand, causing a bit of an issue. They were perfectly nice about it though, a guy whom I'm pretty sure was Palestinian escorted me from the arrivals to the departure side.

The police presence in the airport is remarkable: you go through a normal screening checkpoint at the terminal, then again before you get on the jetway, then again at the end of the jetway. I don't know how they think you could have acquired weapons or any other contraband on the way down the ramp, it was a bit much. One fat Egyptian guy started yelling at the police about how ridiculous it was, I think they just said you can go through the checkpoints or you can go back into the airport.

Landed in Cairo and told the customs people that I was coming here to study in Gaza. They expressed a little bit of surprise, then brought someone to talk to me for about five minutes. They asked if I was with the Viva Palestina convoy or with the Gaza Freedom March, and I said no, showed them the letters from Harvard and Mezan, and they said okay and let me go.

The hotels near Cairo's airport have odd names. I stayed in Novotel for $190, which got me a clean room with a telephone that doesn't work and no clock, it was a little strange. It was nice though, no complaints other than the insane price. The breakfast the next morning was fantastic, probably because I hadn't eaten anything substantial since the meal Air France served from Boston to Cairo.

Slept pretty well, woke up around 4 am for whatever reason, got a cab to the US embassy. I made the mistake of setting it up through the hotel's cab service, so it cost me another $40.

First Post

My name is Feroze Sidhwa, I'm a twenty-seven-year-old fourth year medical student in Texas, taking a one-year leave of absence to get a Master of Public Health degree in Boston. As part of a "Health and Human Rights Field Experience" winter session course I'll be traveling to the Gaza Strip to work with the Mezan Center for Human Rights. The Mezan Center is a highly respected, non-governmental politically neutral organization whose mission is to document human rights abuses regardless of who the perpetrators and the victims happen to be, to expose these human rights abuses to the public, and to work to prevent their future recurrence (www.mezan.org; if like me your only language is English, go to www.mezan.org/en). They're based in Gaza, as far as I understand in Jabalia refugee camp. Most of their reports, appeals and letters can be found on their website, and I think all of them are available in English.

My other goal in Gaza is to obtain access to the Gazan Ministry of Health vital statistics registry (a database that records births and deaths). I need access to this data for a project I am working on as part of my M.P.H., in which I plan to analyze trends in all-cause mortality in Gaza since August 2005 (when Israel withdrew its settlements from Gaza and redeployed to Gaza's periphery, the "convergence/disengagement" program).

From 2004 to 2005 I lived and worked in Haifa, Israel; in the summer of 2007 I lived and worked in two hospitals and on a mobile clinic in and around Hebron in the southern West Bank. Somehow in all that time I've managed not to learn Arabic or Hebrew. I've also lived and worked in southern Zimbabwe for about five weeks. I've never been to Gaza, and honestly I am not looking forward to the experience; Cyprus sounds much more enjoyable. But there's no other way to get this data, and the Mezan Center is a wonderful organization striving to do its mission some justice under the most impossible conditions (one might describe all of Gaza that way). Besides, as an American I have an obligation (and an interest) in going to see the victims of our crimes, and we are deeply implicated in what's being done to the Palestinians generally.

If somehow you came across this blog without knowing anything about Gaza and would like a brief (relatively) report, this one by sixteen of the most respected human rights and humanitarian NGOs in the world came out just a few days ago.

http://www.amnesty.org.uk/uploads/documents/doc_20012.pdf

Pages 3 and 4 are sort of an executive summary of the report's 20 pages.

I have found many wonderful people to help me in this venture, and I anticipate finding many more. I won't name people since a list is necessarily incomplete, and since most of them live in Gaza I would hate to expose them to anyone's wrath. I will say, though, that my contacts have almost exclusively been American Jews and Palestinian Muslims in Gaza, and that gives me hope for the future.