What's Sauce For The Goose...

I received an email from a man who was curious what the situation for a non-Egyptian male wanting to marry an Egyptian woman was. I do know of circumstances where such marriages have taken place, but to be very honest they are discouraged both in tradition and in law. Until very recently, Egyptian women who married non-Egyptians could not pass on their Egyptian nationality to their children. This may not seem like a serious problem, but even if the children were living in another country it can cause problems. If they stood to inherit farmland in the Nile Valley through their mother, they would not be able to since foreigners cannot own Old Valley land. They could come and live in Egypt, but they would have to go through the same procedures for residence visas and so on as any other foreigner. There seems to be an assumption that a foreign passport is an advantage that overcomes any difficulties, but this is not always the case.

An additional issue for Egyptian women who have married non-Egyptians is that their children as non-Egyptians were not eligible for public schools. To be honest, Egyptian public schools are not to be recommended by most educators, but for women married to men who were not earning a foreign exchange salary, having to pay for private schools could be a major economic drain. So the legal and social services have, until very recently, discouraged Egyptian women from marrying non-Egyptians. Recent changes to social laws have loosened the strictures somewhat and now in most cases Egyptian women can pass their nationality to their children.

This, however, does not change the social problems. While it is socially considered to be acceptable for a Muslim man to marry a non-Muslim woman, the same does not hold true for a Muslim woman. I know that my late husband's family showed a great deal more concern over this issue when we announced that our daughter would join her brother at an American university than they did over the possibility that her brother might choose to marry a foreigner. For Muslim women it is usually recommended, if not required, that the prospective husband convert to Islam. There are, needless to say, many women in Egypt who are not Muslim, but many Coptic families are similarly unwelcoming to a prospective bridegroom who is not Coptic, just as Catholic families prefer their daughters marry Catholics. Many of the attitudes about inter-religious marriage are very similar to those that I recall in my childhood in North America.

The practical reality for a single man living and working in Egypt is that it is not exactly a red-hot dating scene. Many families take a very traditional approach to dating/marriage such that a couple may only begin to spend much time together once they are engaged. If the young man in question isn't felt to be good marriage material, he's really out of luck. Some families are more accepting, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Considering all the complaints that I've heard from both Egyptian and ex-pat men about the lack of social excitement in their lives, it doesn't look to be a thrilling proposition. On the other hand, as my husband used to tell me, "In Egypt everything is forbidden and anything is possible."

Holiday Greetings

SakkaraStorm.JPG, originally uploaded by Miloflamingo.

Like most young children I went through a period of drawing Christmas trees that looked remarkably like the Step Pyramid in Sakkara. They were green, naturally, and usually covered with odd coloured balls, but my parents knew what I was making. This Christmas my own children are on the other side of the world with the families of those who are dear to them and my Christmas tree really is a pyramid. And it is a most satisfactory Christmas tree indeed.

Living in a predominantly Muslim country in the Middle East provides an unusual vantage point for the Christmas season. On one hand, this is the true land of Christmas in a sense. The Holy Family is said to have spent its early years in Egypt, and the path of their travels is marked in a series of churches throughout Egypt. The Coptic Church is the oldest Christian church tracing its heritage back to the apostle St. Mark. The religious aspect of the holiday is real and close in the countryside of Egypt. The flocks of sheep are grazing on the drying shores of the Sacred Lake at Dahshur, but not too many shepherds are likely to be sitting out watching flocks in December. The winds off the desert are icy. The camels that carried the Magi to Bethlehem rest after carrying their loads of palm branches to be fashioned into furniture or crates with an emerald pile of winter clover in front of them. We will see them slouching across the desert carrying pilgrims to pay a respectful homage to pyramids that were ancient when Christ was born.

Most of the customs of my childhood feel somewhat out of place here. Snowmen and evergreens are not the inhabitants of the eastern Sahara. Songs about white Christmases, chestnuts roasting on open fires, and Santa Claus don't really make much sense. The sweet potato man has been plying the roadside through the villages lately selling his seasonal roast sweet potatoes to warm the fingers of the chilled fellaheen (and anyone else with a taste for them and their crackling crusty skin). He will vanish again once the evenings return to their usual balmy temperatures in March. For those who are doing Santa's secular work and seeking out the perfect present, there is a series of Christmas bazaars that provide the opportunity to support any sort of charity, but the mad buying frenzy of the holiday season isn't really seen here.

My husband never did see the point of Christmas shopping and Christmas presents. His attitude was that if someone really wanted or needed something, why should there be this wait until the middle of winter? And all of this peace on earth stuff? If it wasn't going to happen in February, why was it important in December? I used to sniff and call him Grinch, but over the years I've grown to understand his point of view better. The Muslim population has its more intense season of charity during the month of Ramadan when many organizations push their charitable appeals at a time when the general population is very attuned to charity. Appeals are also pushed during the Christmas season, for why overlook another group just because of religious bias? Sensible, I believe, and when with the passage of time Ramadan and Christmas are at a six-month distance, it spreads out the giving through the year.

In Egypt Christmas is the feast celebrating the birth of the second most important prophet in the history of mankind, Jesus. For Muslims, he holds a great importance such that he was never killed in the Crucifixion but was carried alive to God. Even Mohamed was just a man who died and was buried. Believing that Allah is not in man's image and thus cannot have a child, Muslims can't believe that Jesus was the son of God. No one could be the son of God because God is something that cannot be comprehended by us mere mortals. I don't see that this is much of a demotion.

Egyptians are flexible about their Christmas as well. For the Europeans, they celebrate it on December 24th and 25th, while for the Copts and the Eastern Orthodox churches it is also celebrated on January 7th. Likewise, we celebrate Easter twice and then on the Monday after the Coptic Easter we celebrate Sham El Nessim, the ancient pharoanic feast of springtime. Scholars say that when the early church leaders were establishing their holy days, they found it useful to place them at times of the year that were already being celebrated in similar fashions. Thus, the old feasts that marked the returning of the longer days to the earth changed from being feasts that celebrated the sun to feasts that celebrated the Son. Perhaps the secret of the pyramids is that they've seen everything come and go so many times that they know that only a few things really matter. As I've tried to remind myself while slogging through slush in New York to be crushed in yet another overfilled bookstore, it isn't the presents that matter but the presence of love and care for others, regardless of the holiday.

Wishing you and yours all the best this holiday season, whatever holidays you may be celebrating.

Mad Dogs And Englishmen

Just hanging around the sarcophagus, originally uploaded by Miloflamingo.

Today has presented me with an amazing hash of experiences. This morning I took a couple of Italian women out riding in the countryside. One of them is essentially a non-rider so the ride itself wasn't exactly taxing. We ambled along happily in the winter sunshine enjoying the fact that there wasn't a cold wind whistling down our necks as there was two days ago.

On our way back to the paddocks I noticed a large dog standing in a corner of a field in a rather awkward position. I couldn't really put a finger on it, but the dog looked very odd. As we approached the corner of the field, I could get a better look. It was a tall sort of German Shepherdish balady dog, a male and he was definitely not well. I've never seen a rabid dog before, but it isn't something that you would miss or forget. He had light eyes and they were jittering around in his head like the marbles in a pinball machine. He was also salivating like mad, great streams of saliva.

I got on my mobile phone immediately and called one of my neighbours to warn them as the dog was wandering in an area with lots of livestock and kids. He called another neighbour who owned a gun to go out and shoot the dog as quickly as possible. As it turned out it was the same guy's dog. I need to try to find a way to get rabies vaccines out here for some of the farm dogs. There are three year vaccines that would make a huge difference. The main problem is that the people really, honestly can't afford the LE 60 or so for the vaccines.

After our ride, I went to try out a new chestnut mare that I'm thinking of buying. She's from upper Egypt, a lovely sane Arab. We went out for a round of the desert with three other riders and had a wonderful time. Our trail took us past the pyramids at Abu Sir, Sakkara, and Mastabat Pharaon, as well as several of the Seti's pyramids (there were quite a number of Seti's). The sarcophagus in the photo is in the same area, marking a spot where riders cross a railway track to ride to Dahshur. It's a favourite photo spot for visitors, and I can't count the number of shots that I've taken of friends lying in it. The weather stayed brilliant and the mare is adorable. Merry Christmas to me.

Tonight I'm invited for dinner at my old house in Maadi by my tenants. They are actually Scots from Edinburgh, but that's close enough for the title. It's going to be very strange to be in my old home as a guest. I think that I'm looking forward to it, since I really enjoy Mark and Jane. But there are going to be a lot of memories jogged tonight. Still, the four years that I lived there after Diaa's death weren't exactly the greatest. I do believe that I'm much happier out here.

Is This Any Way To Make A Living?

PaulineAbuSir.JPG, originally uploaded by Miloflamingo.

Yesterday two of my favourite clients came by for a ride before going back to Europe for Christmas holidays. Pauline, the girl in the photo, is just fourteen, but she is fearless and cheerful no matter how long the trail. She's a joy to ride with. We took three of my geldings out to have a gallop in the desert and found ourselves racing the storm clouds across the desert to the south as they rolled in from the north.

The light was extraordinary. We had the sunlight coming in on our backs, from the northwest where it was setting. The wind was pushing the storm front south along the eastern cliffs of the Nile Valley, and the pyramids along the valley were briefly illuminated against the clouds as the sun and storm cooperated to give us a light show. I got some wonderful pyramid pictures but I wanted to get a shot of Pauline against the pyramids of Abu Sir and the rainbow that seemed to be starting just at its base.

Today there was a 40 km endurance ride over much of the same ground, but the weather was much kinder. After about 8 am (we'd had to arrive at 6:30 since we were working at the vetchecks today) the sun was warm enough to shed the sweaters and jackets that we'd bundled into. It was perfect riding weather and the horses were really enjoying themselves. They love the combination of sun and cold wind.

Life is good.

The Joys of Looking

Well, my bloody computer had to be reformatted once AGAIN. Hopefully this time it will be all right. And a neighbour pulled some strings with the local telephone central to have our lines checked, finding that there was indeed a break in the line sufficient to keep the gerbils from being able to work properly. Maybe things are looking up.

Driving into Maadi this morning, however, I had time to think about vegetables and fruit. Okay, that doesn't sound very exciting, but it was pleasing. My yoga class is at 9 am twice a week, and I have to be on the road at about 8:15 am. This is the same time that many of the farmers are on the road with their pickup trucks and donkey carts carrying the day's crop to market. Somehow a donkey cart loaded with a perfect pyramid of snowy white cauliflowers is much more conducive to thoughts of cauliflower au gratin than a cellophane packet in a supermarket. So maybe I'm weird, but the utter freshness of the produce inspires me.

I passed a couple of carts parked by the side of the road with golden oranges and the redder clementines stacked next to yellow guavas and stacks of local bananas. Our winter fruit are usually yellow and orange. The best apples here right now are Iranian and Syrian yellow apples, crisp and flower-scented. Strawberries are coming into season and the sales of whipping cream are soaring. Our winter vegetables; spinach, peas, beans, at least 8 types of lettuce, sweet red and orange carrots and new potatos tempt the laziest cook to toss together at least a salad and soup.

I'm beginning to plan my soon-to-be-purchased parcel of land where I will build a small house with room for my visiting daughter and other guests and a proper kitchen that I can work in with pleasure. High on the list of things to have is a good vegetable garden, fruit trees for shade, and a poultry yard. Oh, to eat my own tomatoes!

Messing About With Horses

Hortenseposing.JPG, originally uploaded by Miloflamingo.

This photo was taken by Merri Melde while she was visiting me last February. I have lots of photos of Hortense being silly on a horse, but I think that Merri got the best one. Hortense is one of my neighbours, a young French woman who is utterly fearless on horseback, as is pretty obvious from the picture. The horse is Maximus, a rescued cart horse. She teaches lessons, trains horses for other owners, and competes in local competitions, both jumping and endurance. None of these competitions are very important, nor are they very serious. She has a good time, the horse has a good time, everyone enjoys themselves.

When I was a little girl I harassed my poor parents into buying model horses, broomstick horses, even into bringing two skulls home from a camping trip so that I could have a "horse" in the garden. I even fed the poor bones daily. When I was about 8, they finally gave in to the extent that I was allowed to take weekly riding lessons for a year or so. I was about 12 when we moved from a city to a small town where horses almost outnumbered humans. A couple down the road from us sheltered rescue horses and they were happy to have some demented child come to ride them and feed them treats.

At roughly the same time, I was reading rather large quantities of books about archaeology and ancient civilizations, with Egypt being right up there on my reading list. I bored any number of horsey friends silly by going on about pyramids and pharoahs as we rambled around the dirt roads and mountain trails on whatever horses could be collected. Despite all my entreaties, my parents never lost sight of their sanity and actually bought me the horse that I pleaded for. I had to come to Egypt to own a horse.

I spent twenty horseless years going to university, working and having children. Canada is a pretty expensive place to own horses, so it wasn't ever really an option. I was forty or so when my husband came home to tell me that he'd offered me as new owner for a chestnut Arab mare who had been owned by a friend of his. I didn't know whether to be delighted or horrified. I'd met the mare once and she wasn't exactly the friendliest creature on the planet, but in the end, a horse nut is a horse nut after all. I found a place for her in a stable in Alexandria and found myself a new group of friends who undertook my retraining as a rider so that I wouldn't kill myself with this green filly.

All of that was about 15 years ago. I still have the mare, Dorika, as well as two of her sons. I also have the son of a lovely white mare that I bought soon after acquiring Dory, a couple of gift geldings, one purchase who is worth his weight in gold for his patience and reliability with novice riders, and a filly who is growing up to take Dory's place as top mare someday. The horses are beginning to earn their carrots taking people for trail rides, but their real value is in maintaining my sanity.

Today I decided that I'd spent enough time doing errands and whatnot, so I called Hortense's husband, Morad, to see if he was free for a ride. He also trains and competes with local horses, so their work schedules often have holes in them that allow rides. We took two of my boys out for a trip around the local stables, stopping for tea here and there, trying out a nice looking mare, and generally fooling around for a couple of hours, but at the same time working on the training for the horses.

We made one stop for tea at a house near Morad's new place. The fellaheen who own the house buy and sell horses on a very small scale. There is usually a young stallion or mare tied outside the front door between training sessions with a cart or saddle. Today there were three horses there, an older mare being shod, a young stallion and a filly. I was riding my younger gelding who didn't really get the idea that he had to stand still while I was drinking a hot cup of tea and we had to walk in a few circles before he decided to cooperate. Thinking about it now, drinking hot tea on a horse is probably something that I should tell the kids not to try at home, but at the time it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

At my age, I really shouldn't be doing silly things I suppose, but I find that life is much more interesting when I do. That's one of the things that the horses give me, a chance to play. I go exploring, I play games like trying to pluck flowers from a wall, I go fruit picking with four-legged ladders during mulberry season. It's fun and the horses don't ever turn around to me and tell me that it's time I grew up. Partners in crime.

The Lonely Whale

Science News Article | Reuters.com

It isn't often that a news story catches my attention like this one did. Mind you, with the gerbils powering my net connection being a tad on the slow side these days, it isn't often that I get to download the news either. Still, this story about a single whale that's been cruising the Pacific for the past twelve years singing a song unlike any other really got me. The details are rather sketchy. Apparently using the sonar readings available through the US submarine fleet, scientists have been classifying whales and their migration patterns in the Pacific. This one whale has a voice unlike any other and also doesn't share the usual migration routes.

The implications of the story are fairly staggering when you stop to think about it. The Pacific is a rather vast area and there are obviously things there that we humans are as yet unaware of. It's quite possible that there are whales in the Pacific that we are not aware of, but then there is the statement that this is one whale rather than a group of them. The first thing that occurred to me on reading the article was the thought of how excrutiatingly lonely that creature must be. To wander an area the size of the Pacific alone is unimaginable to me. But perhaps this sort of whale is a solitary creature. Orangutans are primates, like gorillas, chimps and humans, all of whom live in groups. Orangutans, however, are solitary and do not live in groups. They simply get together at breeding times, and after that the female is raising her offspring without any input from another orangutan.

Humans live in groups. The extended family seems to be almost extinct in many parts of the world, most notably in Europe and North America, but in Egypt it is alive and well. Sometimes an extended family is supportive and other times it is stifling. Much depends on the particular family or particular family members, but the association with an extended family in this part of the world was initially one of the big draws of Egypt. I grew up in North America and had almost no family other than one aunt on my father's side. My mother's family was all in the UK and we didn't travel there much to know them well. I've seen more of them since moving to Egypt than I ever did growing up. Something about the Egyptian sunshine and the English rain.....

The predilection for living in each other's pockets that is found in Egypt has caused all sorts of problems for urban planners. They've built satellite cities around Cairo to relieve the pressure on the capital city, but people don't want to be that far from their parents and old neighbourhoods. Getting Egyptians to move is amazingly impossible. As a college student in North America, I moved so many times that when I decided to add them all up as a grad student, I was astounded at the number of addresses I'd had over the years. That would not be the case here at all. Most young people live with their parents until they marry and then they don't move more than maybe once. Someone applying for a job in North America wouldn't think twice about applying for one in another city or state or province, but in Egypt to find someone willing to move from Alexandria to Cairo or vice versa is almost unheard of. Egyptians are definitely in the extreme of crowd-loving people.

I was talking to a friend the other day and laughing about someone asking me if it was hard living alone. First, when you have ten dogs, you are not living alone no matter how you figure it. A pack of dogs is a complex society and I'm constantly dealing with arguments, disputes and discussions among them. Then my friend pointed out that although I live alone with a gang of dogs, no one could say that I'm not social. I have neighbours dropping by all the time if I'm home and otherwise I'm usually off to see a friend. Then there are the visitors. Since I moved here in February, I've had ten long-term (over a week and usually more like three) houseguests and probably another four short term. Not bad for ten months in a shoebox inhabited by a lone woman and a bunch of canines.

http://www.newscientist.com/news/news.jsp?id=ns99996764

Another story about the whale in the New Scientist quotes researchers as saying that the lonely whale probably isn't a new species. It's voice is at a higher frequency, a much higher frequency, than other whales of what they believe is its species. Maybe this is just a sort of Tiny Tim whale, for those of you old enough to remember the falsetto-voiced singer. And if it's like Tiny Tim, well, that could be reason enough to be alone.