Observing The Pilgrims

I had a nice couple from the UK staying at the farm for a weekend not long ago and they wanted, naturally, to visit the pyramids at Giza. Even more, they wanted to go inside the Great Pyramid, a trip that takes some organising these days. We got up at 6:30 am to be at the pyramids at 7:30 so that we could be first in line for the tickets to the area and the pyramids. In the old days things weren't nearly so organised and it was just a matter of showing up, but now you have to buy a ticket to the plateau and another to go into either the Great Pyramid or the Middle Pyramid at the entrance. There are two entrances, one down by the Sphinx in Nazlit Semman and one up the road from the Mena House. Once you are wandering around the plateau, it is a long dusty hike back to the ticket offices to get entrance tickets to the pyramids. We were first in line, and they got their tickets to see inside the pyramid.

They wanted to wander around for a few hours and I said that I would amuse myself at the pyramid while they did whatever it was they wanted. Sometimes my visitors want my company, but they were very independent, so I settled down to watch and photograph visitors to the pyramid. It didn't take long for the crowds and buses to begin arriving and soon I had more than enough to watch. It was a Friday morning and there were people from every nation on earth, along with Egyptian families and some school trips towing crowds of children around the area. At first I sat on the stones facing the pyramid and taking photos of people having their pictures taken. I find people posing next to one of the wonders of the ancient world to be utterly enchanting. Their delight in being there is written all over their faces and the poses are marvelous.

The photographers in the groups were so intent on their shooting that no one noticed the fact that I was shooting people rather than stones. Their subjects would climb up a few steps to stand on some of the lower stones, or they might pretend to push. Some people would simply stand quietly at the side of an enormous block of limestone resting their hands on it, as though feeling the pulse of the stone.

Moods varied from solemn and awed to hilarious enjoyment of the experience. As someone who has been visiting Giza for the past thirty years, watching the visitors awoke the delight and awe that I felt the first time I came and gazed at these unbelievably enormous structures. The first time I came to Egypt my husband brought me to the Sound and Light the first evening and the next day we came out to the pyramids with a group of his teen-aged cousins. They had all seen the pyramids before and their enjoyment of my delight was obvious. We had bought a good camera for that trip and were having a marvelous time taking photos of everything...everyone assumed that my husband was a foreigner since why would an Egyptian take pictures at the pyramids? Times have definitely changed.

As the morning progressed, I took shelter in a shady niche about three stones up the pyramid from which vantage point I watched the visitors as they faced me. It was almost ceremonial. The footing at the base of the pyramid is quite uneven and the SCA have built a wooden walkway over the rocky platform along which many of the first time visitors approach. It's a lot to take in and there is a moment for each one when they stop and try to take in the enormity of what is in front of them. From a distance they must turn their heads from left to right to see the expanse of the one face and then they must lean back, back, back to try to see all the way to the top. After a few moments of orientation, the group photographer begins to motion people to stand in front of the pyramid to commemorate the day.

I was there about four hours and have to say that I never had a moment to get bored. The parade of visitors was unending, the buses filling the parking lot never thinned out, and I took about four hundred photos that one morning. I did a lot of critical trashing of bad shots but I was left with almost one hundred that I felt were worth keeping. I always feel that there is a peace in the pyramids that tolerates our human foolishness. They have seen it all over the millenia. They had their centuries of glory, of neglect and even abuse, but over all they persist. I'm quite aware of my anthropormorphising large piles of stone but when you live with them as neighbours, it's easy to do. So a Friday morning watching the endless games of the pilgrims who come in wonder and delight to play out the ancient rite of celebrating these ancient observers of our history made a perfect day.

copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

Definitely a Haven

Our world is a messy place although in many parts people tend to be able to hide the messiness better than in others. North America or Europe with its leash laws, humane societies, and animal rights activists almost makes one think that everything is more or less under control. It isn't, of course, since the very nature of life is change, but when North Americans and Europeans come to Egypt where normality is simply more chaotic than normality elsewhere, they are often rather shocked at the stray animals and working horses and donkeys. In some respects, Egypt is still living in the 19th century. The only working horses in New York City are the police horses or the carriage horses in Central Park, and there are plenty of interest groups that feel that it is inhumane to make horses work in any way and would like to see them abolished. My personal experience is that horses like working with people when the work is reasonable and the care is good, so that is not a great solution.

When I moved here in the late 80's finding a veterinarian to treat a cat in Alexandria was a major feat of detective work, and to be honest the first vet I ever found was pretty awful. Twenty years on things have changed quite a bit and we have a fairly good sampling of decent veterinary clinics in Cairo and Alexandria. Another change that I've seen has been an increase in the number of animal relief associations and animal shelters. Since these are a relatively new idea here, most of the population of Egypt is still trying to understand how they work. Keeping dogs and cats as pets is not that common in the general population, although it's often the case that a doorman will have a local cat or dog who knows where it can get a free meal in exchange for some guard work or ratcatching. These animals are not "pets" in the usual sense, but are more free-roaming partners who live without benefit of vaccinations or neutering and are subject to the stresses of random breeding. This is also the case for the farm dogs out here in the countryside. While this seems tough to people raised in orderly cities abroad, it is in fact the way of the world in less controlled environments.

I've visited quite a few animal shelters over the years and to be honest, most of them give me the willies. Quite a few end up housing large numbers of randomly "rescued" dogs and cats who have no hope of ever being placed in a comfortable environment and who are left to live in pens and cages that are often overcrowded, noisy, dirty and stressful. The low levels of funding for shelters have something to do with these conditions as do the wishes of the keepers to "save" these animals from life on the streets. I understand the problems of keeping large numbers of animals, having fifteen dogs myself (not by choice, believe me) and just visiting some of these places is enough to send me running for a calm place to collect my thoughts.

I have a group of high school students coming to stay at the farm for two weeks in June and was looking for some opportunities for volunteer work in the area, so I went to visit a few of the local shelters. One of them was eliminated immediately as I had some very real concerns for the safety of the students with the way that the dogs were kept. The tension level in the pens were quite sufficient that I could see fights breaking out quite easily. I went on to a new shelter primarily for cats and was quite delighted to find Animal Haven's new spaces. Noura el Daly had been working with her cats in Maadi for years but recently her sister offered her space out near our farms. A compound was built consisting of a series of rooms built around courtyards that afforded cats their choices of rooms in which to sleep and sunny spots for relaxation. The cats, and there are quite a lot of them, are not necessarily confined to one room and courtyard, but if they are sufficiently well-socialised, they can move among a choice of rooms, including one that has a ramp leading to a space on the roof.

There were more cats than I've seen in one place in a long, long time. Every possible colour and hair length was represented. Many of these cats are adult but rather than being frightened of humans and trying to escape attention, they sauntered over to purr against legs and offer heads for scratches and stroking. Dishes of food, rice with chicken, stood around for the cats to be able to eat at their leisure, and wooden benches covered in toweling, baskets, shelves and other interesting structures provided places for the cats to curl, sprawl, groom, and cuddle. The entire area was spotless and the attendants made a point of introducing us to their favourite inmates. The cats are neutered, vaccinated and available for adoption, but all too often people are wanting the cute factor of kittens and not interested in adult cats. I've had a lot of cats in my life and have had no problems adopting sympathetic adult cats. In fact, not having to put up with the crazy running around of kittens that almost inevitably leads to broken objects and torn curtains has been a real plus. One of our cats when we lived in Maadi was a totally blind female who wound herself around my daughter's legs just outside our doctor's office one afternoon. We called her Amelia and she presented us with four kittens as well in fairly short order. We were fortunate in being able to find homes for all the kittens and for Amelia as well, since we didn't think that it was fair to a blind cat for her to have to deal with a household with dogs as well.

Animal Haven isn't a dog shelter but they have a few dogs who have been left at the doorstep, so to speak. The dogs are baladi dogs, the street/desert/farm mutts that are ubiquitous here. They are also the smartest, most loyal, healthiest dogs that anyone could find and make the best possible watchdogs. I have two who patrol the farm every evening while my terriers find the best spots on the bed. The dogs are also given enough room, cleanliness, food and attention to make them delightful companions. I spoke to Noura after my visit suggesting that the students could come to help care for the animals, repair benches and baskets, and perhaps to do some rudimentary dog training to help make the dogs more adoptable. We'll see how things work out, but this is really a wonderful effort and hopefully more people will find their way out to adopt cats and the odd dog from Animal Haven.

copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

Watching out for Influenza A (H1N1)

Having watched the drop in trade in pork (a perfectly reasonable meat when prepared properly) and the slaughter of many innocent pigs, the WHO has changed the name of this version of influenza to the slightly less inflammatory Influenza A (H1N1). Probably a case of closing the barn door after inviting the butcher in, however. My condolences to the pigs who really have nothing at all to do with anything. No pigs have been ill from the erstwhile "swine flu" and forcing the slaughter of them is a serious hardship for the zebaleen of Mokattam who are one of the best recycling services in the world.

copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

Issuing The Pigs Their Wings

It was announced on international news that the Egyptian government would force farmers to slaughter all their pigs to prevent swine flu. This is almost as intelligent as Paris Hilton telling people that she wasn't worried about it because she doesn't eat pork. The pigs are irrelevant at this stage. The flu is transmitted from human contact and according to some WHO officials isn't nearly the threat that the bird flu is. I suspect the combination of the word "swine", the cultural taboo on pork, and the almost universal ignorance among bureuacrats of how disease is spread is almost irresistible. There are quite a number of modern, properly run pig farms in Egypt...just as we have quite a few properly run examples of almost anything here...except maybe government officials.

copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

Being A Mom

I followed a Global Voices link to a cool idea. A mother in Canada proposed asking women all over the world to write about what they like or don't like about being a mom. I need a life-affirming task right now and think I want to play. Granted, as a mom, I'm sort of a retiree, but only sort of. My kids are in their mid-twenties, have careers of their own and live on another continent, but that's my family and in fact it's been like that from Day One, though at first it was the kids and me on one continent and my husband on the other.

When I was in grad school I was buddies with a clinical grad student for a lot of departmental activities. Someone somewhere figured out that we could be counted on to help out with almost anything. Her nickname was Doc and mine was Mom. I was a few years older than most of the students, but unmarried and certainly not a mom. I did, however, really, really want to have kids someday and finally achieving a son and a daughter thrilled me to death. I was lucky enough to be able to afford to be a full-time mom since my husband traveled so much, but there were things that I loved and things that I definitely did not love.

Loves:

Watching my kids expand and explore their world, that light going on when they suddenly figure out a new idea and share it.

Bedtime stories. I got to read a lot of good literature over the years.

The odd sms appearing out of the blue on my phone to tell me that everything is fine and I'm loved.

Baking Christmas cookies that manage to get red, green and white frosting ALL over the kitchen.

The Muppet Show...it didn't count in their TV allotment when they were little because we all loved it.

The fact that you never really get to stop being a mom.




Not Loves:

Those late, late nights with a sick kid when all your eyes want to do is close.

Having to accept the fact that there are days when they just aren't going to like you.

Trying to get them to clean their own rooms...finally gave up and made a deal that I wouldn't criticise but I wouldn't help them find anything either.

Taking a deep breath and stilling the panic in the heart when something goes wrong...even when it's homework that was "forgotten" the night before. Sometimes it is their problem, not mine.

Not giving advice when I'd so like to do so but recognise that sometimes kids have to figure it out for themselves.

The fact that you never really get to stop being a mom.

copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

Having To Say Good-bye

I've known Omar Abdel Salam for over fifteen years. He's still a young man, about 45 years old, father of a number of children, the youngest of whom is about eleven. Happily, all the older ones are married, many of them with young children of their own. When I first met him, he was a groom at Sakkara Country Club, one of the best. But he wanted more from his life and as our ancient farrier at the Club was losing his sight, Omar convinced Am Yaseen to take him on as an apprentice blacksmith. It wasn't the optimal arrangement since Yaseen was in his late 80's and almost blind, but Omar learned all that he could from the old man.

A while later, an American farrier came to do some work at the breeding farms and a group of us arranged for Omar to work with her to learn more about his craft. He was less than thrilled at the idea but watching Sara turn an iron bar into a perfect eggbar shoe in about 15 minutes convinced him that she had something to teach him. In the following years, Omar took on two apprentices, one of his sons and another young man, and he taught them much of what he knew, having realised from his own experience that waiting until he was too old wasn't a good plan for anyone.

Omar and his boys have been taking care of my horses' feet for about 10 years now and he's more than just my farrier. Omar is a friend, someone whose company I always looked forward to when it came time to shoe and trim my horses. Sara still comes occasionally and she always makes it a point to bring something interesting in terms of tools for Omar. Farriers' tools are not in plentiful supply here and for the past few years he's been working against a tool account with me. I keep track of his tab and order rasps, cutters, nippers and so on for him and his boys.

The last time Omar came to me in February he was complaining of dizziness that was driving him nuts. He'd been to doctors who had been treating him for an inner ear infection, but he was still dizzy. He had Shaban do most of the trimming and nailing of shoes, but when we needed to shape a new horseshoe, he got out his anvil, seated himself in front of it and set to work. He was going to see a neurologist the next day, having felt that he'd exhausted the ear possibilities. The next thing I heard was that Omar was in the hospital. When his son and Shaban came to do my horses just recently, they told me that he was diagnosed with brain cancer. The doctors had done a biopsy removing part of one tumor that was pressing on the nerves that were making him dizzy, but there were five more that they couldn't really touch as they were mixed up with his optical nerves and other rather important items. Damn.

I went to visit Omar today. He's been released from hospital and is back at home in the midst of his family, but has been going into the hospital for radiation therapy, I believe. My Arabic vocabulary gets a little shaky in these technical things. His wife told me that there are two more sessions and then they will do an MRI to compare it with the earlier one. My father died of brain cancer and I remember all too well the progression of his illness. My bet is that Omar will not be with us much longer. He seems at least twenty years older than he was last month and he tires easily, has trouble speaking and his eyes don't track very well. This is a very aggressive cancer, something that his son confirms to me. His family asked what they could do, would there be medications abroad that might help him. I had to say that I thought that it was most important to keep him happy, comfortable, and as pain-free as possible. The doctors have told them the same. My friends and neighbours who are all his clients have all sent word that if the family needs any help they are just to say so and we will be there in force. If only we could just bring Omar back.
copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani

The View From The Top Of The Hill

I enjoyed my 60th birthday a week or so ago and today is my blog's 6th birthday. I don't know if blogs use dog years or something else, but six years isn't such a bad lifespan for a blog. The birthday would have been more fun if I hadn't had knee surgery less than a week before necessitating a day in a chair or on crutches. My idea of a perfect 60th birthday would surely have begun with a long ride in the desert and the countryside with my sidekick Dory (who is a young 23 herself), but that was not to be. Realising that I was not going to be in the best shape, I sent out an email inviting everyone to the farm on Friday March 13 for an open house/barbecue with a potluck menu. Guests began arriving around 11 am and wandered in until about 6 pm, by which time the birthday girl was ready to relax and put her feet up on the sofa.

We had a lovely array of people on hand, some of my steady clients, old friends from 20 years ago when we lived in Alexandria, neighbours, some high school students who had been guests here at their Week Without Walls visit, every age, though I think I had it on everyone in that category. The relaxing thing about a gathering at the farm is that the entertainment is provided by our denizens. I had the grooms tack up a couple of the horses to give pony rides to youngsters, one of the high school kids decided to try riding our donkey George, and plenty of people had a great time cuddling the goat kids. My staff manned the barbecue and grilled all sorts of things for visitors and then had to find space for the various sweets and cakes. It was a most satisfying birthday.

When my calendar reminded me this morning that it was my blog's 6th birthday, I got to thinking in general about birthdays and their meaning. I remember waiting excitedly for my birthday with its attendant festivities when I was young...somehow the anticipation decreased as I grew older. Turning 30 was a milestone for me much as it probably was for many other young women. For myself, it was the signal that no matter what I was doing as a grad student, it was time to reassess things because I'd decided (why I can't recall) that at 30 it was time to finish school. Oddly enough, I did just that.

Turning 40 is a milestone for most of us, especially women. Until you are forty, you are still a "young woman" but somehow at forty, one becomes simply a woman, a mature woman. Hmm, scary thought. What was I doing at forty? I'd just moved to Egypt and my darling husband decided to celebrate this birthday by getting me a hot new car so that I could drive my kids to school in Alexandria listening to The Police at mind-boggling decibels with the sunroof open. This was a man who knew what a forty year old housewife needed. At the same time this decade also demanded some evaluation of where my life was going. While at 30 I'd decided that I'd given enough of my life to education, at 40 I found myself wondering if I was using that education, a graduate degree in social psychology, wisely. Examining my current life, what was I doing? I was a mother, a housewife...for this I spent about 8 years in university? On the other hand, as I reflected I realised that my educational background was an enormous assistance in my efforts to help my family maintain an even keel in this cultural sea that we were sailing. All my studies on language development, ethics, my classes on communications and conflict resolution...it all fed into my efforts to help my children find their way as multicultural citizens. Talking to other women friends, I've found that sometime around 39/40 a major sense of dissatisfaction or questioning set in and most of us took some time to decide how happy we were with our lives. I'm sure that this process took its toll on our husbands.

By the time I turned 50, we'd moved to Cairo. My children were now teenagers in high school. With them very occupied by studies, theatre, sports, art, drama and their own social lives and my husband totally engulfed with his own career and factory building program, I'd found myself with some time on my hands. I'd been teaching at the American school as a substitute for a few years and also working with a close friend writing and editing for a monthly magazine. I also had become intrigued with a rather unusual equestrian sport, endurance riding, that involved hours of riding conditioning one's horse for competitive sport that involved many miles in a single competition. The sport didn't exist in Egypt, but that didn't really bother me. I was trying to understand the principles of conditioning nevertheless. I had an independent income from my work, a hobby, and a happy busy family...life was looking pretty good. I was amazed to find that at 50 I had so much more energy than I felt that I'd had at any time in my life. A couple of my friends had found turning 50 pretty traumatic. Let's face it, at 50 one becomes a middle-aged woman. Gravity begins having its way with the body, those interesting hormonal changes give the word "warmth" a new meaning...a lot of the physical aspects are not that terrific to be sure. But at the same time, I was feeling a new sureness in myself, a new comfort, and an interest in exploring new horizons.

A year later my feet were utterly knocked out from under me when my husband died in a totally unexpected accident, but the energy that I'd felt earlier certainly came in handy. The last decade was not my best in terms of enjoyment, but I have to say that it definitely taught me a lot. I've learned what I can and can't do, to trust my gut feelings, and that no matter how horrible things may be, they usually won't kill you unfortunately.

And since the conventional wisdom is that turning 60 is the sign that you are over the hill, how's the view from the top? Pretty damn good, even if the knees are exactly up to par anymore. I don't have the energy that I had at 30, 40, or 50. That's too bad but I can live with it. I've done a good job of teaching my horses to be nice to old ladies and novice riders, so I figure that I'm probably good for another 20 years of riding, even if my orthopedic surgeon thinks I'm certifiable. I look in the mirror and don't really recognise the physical individual that looks back at me sometimes but I suspect that I have a lot of company there. I have enough plans and possibilities to keep me busy for at least two lifetimes and I have enough friends to give me the energy and support to try to do at least some of them. Egypt is a good place to be an old lady, I always tell people. The culture instills a respect for old women such that most of us with enough nerve can get away with murder. Hopefully it won't come to that.
copyright 2009 Maryanne Stroud Gabbani