The first breath after a coma…..

Today, I took a nap in the sunshine. It was in a garden, next to the TAFL Center where I study. There is a wall of trees and bushes surrounding it, and to be honest, it is rather pitiful. The once red Canna-lilies are pretty much dead.

For those of you who know me, you know that I am obsessed with taking naps in the sunshine, and that my day is not complete without this little ritual.

This was the first such nap I have had since coming to Egypt over a month ago.

It may not seem like a big deal, but to me, this was a huge revelation. This is a part of my person, my life, that had disappeared.

This is similar to realizing the other day that I was genuinely sad. My immediate reaction, as per usual, was to chafe myself for pessimism and negative energy, but instead I cried.

I had a bad experience and it was the first time in my entire life that I couldn’t brush it off afterwards. No pity, please, this is part of the process.

But what is this process? Why am I, a person so obscenely positive, extremely sad? Why haven’t I taken a nap in the sunshine? Why haven’t I laughed the same way I used to laugh?

It all has something to do with repression, I think, particularly of women, here in Egypt. Now, I am not going to go on a feminist rant as I tend to do, but I am gonna give some honest to God details of what life is like here sometimes. I am honestly hesitant to do so, though, because there is certainly a balance to how each person who reads this will process my point of view. Some, those who have been here, will understand, I think, without question. Others who have studied abroad may “get it,” and still others will nod their wise heads and think “ah- life experience.”

These aren’t the opinions I fear though.

No. I fear those that will take this one negative aspect of life here and twist it every kind of wrong. This is why I tend to find and focus on the positive- to contradict those who can’t find the balance to the niceties and the problems.

But ma3lsish. I am going to try to educate instead….mom always insisted that her children would be teachers.

My friends, I have a lesson for you:

The life of a foreign woman in Alexandria, Egypt is hard.
Hard does not quite encompass the difficulty of this situation.

The life of a foreign woman is set.

I do not walk alone here. As in nowhere. As in, the same distance from Stewart Hall to Mead Chapel, I do not walk alone, at 3:30 in the afternoon.

Because a woman walking all of one block from the front door of her dormitory to MacDonald’s is subjected to verbal, physical and, yes, physically threatening harassment.

Why?

Simply because I am a woman, and men here do what they want. There is no other answer.

That’s why I choose the word “set.” My life is set, according to the culture here.

[Please note that that is “culture” and not “religion.” BIG difference people, big difference.]

I questioned my Egyptian elders on my complete inability to be alone for all of two minutes here in a public place. Their answer?

“You are a woman, you just don’t.”

I questioned my Egyptian friends, girls my age, on their opinion of the harassment that I and the other American girls have received. Their answer?

“I wish I got attention like that.”

An Egyptians reaction to my criticism of their answers would roughly be something like, “but that’s how our culture is.”

I would like to pause and say that I truly love my Egyptian friends and colleagues- this is not against them, but it is against the culture that they support, tolerate, and let dominate their lives.

That’s especially to the women here- what are you thinking? Why do you accept this extremely negative aspect of your culture as normal?

Maybe it’s time to offer their side- the women here are mostly muhagabat, aka wear the hijab.

[Again- take my information slowly. I have studied the hijab extensively here, and I am not against it. What I am against is any forced wearing of the hijab or birka. But that’s for a later blog.]

The main idea here is that I do not wear a hijab, and my lovely, curly, light brown hair attracts attention like no other. My green eyes don’t help, but let’s focus on my hair for a moment.

What is it about my uncovered hair that provides such “excitement” in the Egyptian male population? It is an interesting phenomenon, but I seriously think it is simply because there are so few un-muhagabat here that this one little difference is actually quite huge.

Think about it. Vermont: it’s freezing all the time, snow covering the ground, etc. The first time we see a vibrant blue sky or a flower pop up in the gray darkness of winter, we are overjoyed and tend to go a little nuts.

Two things- I am not comparing myself to the sky or a flower (although the Egyptians have), and I am not providing an excuse for the verbal and emotional abuse I have received here. Something quite different, I think.

I think a solution is presenting itself…that is, if the problem were to be acknowledged by the Egyptians. No, no, no- I am not saying unveil the women and life is great, wohoo. But think about this- a repressed shabab (young people) are venting their frustrations on those of us who have a culture that does not force people in one direction or the other. They see Americans as liberal and free-thinking because our culture is such. I am not one to flaunt an American flag, and I haven’t really been proud of my Americaness until Obama came along, but I think this is worth noting:

Egypt is repressed and depressed. What depression and negativity I am experiencing here is a tiny, tiny piece of what the Egyptians my age have experienced throughout their lives. I think our issues obviously manifest themselves in different ways (I mean, Egyptian men don’t suffer from sexual harassment, but inflict it), but I think that part of my experience here is experiencing their side of things….

Not sure if that’s w3dh (clear) or not, but that’s one idea any way.

I want to get one other thing off my chest, then I promise I am done…that is, unless you’ve stopped reading because you have decided I have completely lost it…not quite the Galen most of y’all know, eh?

My complaint is about the American guys in the program with me.

No, seriously. I didn’t realize how very envious I am of them until the other day.

I was exploring a market with a couple of American guy friends, an Egyptian guy, and another girl. The guys talked to anyone and everyone they saw on the street. I, in contrast, was so focused on avoiding eye-contact and potential harassment that I didn’t take in the sights and sounds surrounding me.

I was in a market, in freaking Egypt, and I didn’t take in the aroma, the tastes, the sounds, the colors, the life and vibrancy.

I would like to say that I truly enjoyed exploring the back-streets of Egypt with my friends, but it was not the experience I had been expecting to have.

Never has my gender inhibited me from enjoying life to its fullest, until here. And that’s not acceptable. Not one little bit.

As to the title for this entry:

I needed some music without words, and Clara gave me a bunch of songs from her itunes. The name of one is “first breath after the coma.”

As I was lying in the garden today, taking my first nap in the glorious sunshine of Egypt, I was listening to my ipod so as to drown out the world (sort of emo, but you guys get that, I’m sure). This song began to play right as I began to fall asleep, and I let out a very contented sigh.

You take it from there.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0o8JCxjjpM