One year more... or less

One year on from the revolution of January 25th here in Egypt.

We asked
the delivery guy
if he was going
to Tahrir square.
He said
"No, this is not
the time to go to the square.
This is the time to work.
Halas."

* * * 

What's on the roof?

Roofs are more interesting in Egypt than at home.

In the US, roofs are mostly gabled. We might have tar paper or shingles or skylights, and in some cases even solar panels - but that's about as interesting as it gets.

Roofs that I've seen lately are flat and much ado is had upon them. A lot of buildings are half built... (speculation as to why: Did they run out of money? Do they leave them like that for tax reasons? Is it just the normal pace of construction?) ... and the top floor of a half built building is a lot like a flat roof.

In Syria I mentioned the satellite dishes, nestled across every bare square inch of rooftops, searching for the mother ship. In Damascus they changed the law and now there is just one dish per roof. More developed? I say, not as interesting.

In Egypt there is no such law. Roofs are littered with soft circles of all sizes as far as the eye can see, gazing towards ArabSat or NileSat, sucking in billions of channels. A half built building with no heating or windows will already have the dishes starting to sprout.

On our roof there is an elevator motor house, some water tanks, satellite dishes, a sunny sitting area, and a picnic area with a stove and some decrepit stationary bicycles. On a clear day you can see the big pyramids across the Nile. I would enjoy it more except that it is extremely dusty.

The staples of an Egyptian roof are (of course) the aforementioned dishes, the water tanks, and bird houses. We have speculated about the bird houses. Are they for foul (roof-top livestock)? Are they for the swarms of pigeons that seem to occupy them anyhow? Do people hang out in them? It seems people put a lot of care into them. Designs and gay painting. Large structures of wood.

I have simple dreams. I'd like to visit one of these exciting roofs.

...to turn

One adventure has come to an end. I entered 10 writing contests or tests of some kind. Here's a link to my kick off post from more than a year ago. I know I took my time, but I wanted to find a variety of interesting contests. (Honestly, I was also lazy at times and busy at other times, but that's life.)

I got a little ego boost because I won one of the contests I entered. Of course that means I didn't win nine of them, but I didn't expect to win any!

I entered essay contests, poetry contests, some with different kinds of judging, some contests were goals I set with myself to beat, I submitted to a variety of literary magazines. There is a summary of contests 1 through 7 here. Number 8 was a 50 word essay contest - and the only one I won! Numbers 9 and 10 were poetry submissions to good literary magazines, and none were accepted for publication.

I did this to learn: I wanted to learn about what sort of online writing opportunities are out there and I wanted to see if I could win anything. I am really happy with what I accomplished. I had a lot of fun looking for different contests and things online, there are a ton of fun things out there.

What I learned about myself and my own writing is that I need to  make it a habit. Those pieces that were recognized as "good" by outside sources were those I had worked on for a while.  Feedback I got often was some version of "Nice imagery, but needs to be worked more."

So what's the conclusion? It is that I need to make it a habit. Let's see if I can do that:
A blog post a week for the month of January... This one counts for week 1, but I'll do another in a few days (it's been brewing already).

Next page

Be forewarned, some not so PC phrases and four letter words will ensue shortly.

* * *

Tahrir square is full again. Is gassed again. Is exaggerated again.

Elections started in Egypt on Monday. It's complicated. This infographic tries to explain the election process. There are party candidates or individual candidates, professional or worker seats, and about 19.000 symbols for each one. To me it seems even more fucked up than our own dear electoral college (which is retarded). I mean not fucked up in an evil way, but in a confusing way. Why do people come up with crazy election processes? Just get the people to vote, count the votes, and majority wins. Maybe it can't be that simple, but it also doesn't need to be quite so complicated (and I'm not just talking about Egypt here).

I've been following these elections and those in the Democratic Republic of Congo on the Twitter. Well, all those Egyptian activist complaining about irregularities here should check out the Congo scene.
People died.
Just sayin'.

* * *

Inspiration comes from other bloggers. My friend T. over at About the Bees blog just had a baby boy too, and she's blogging.  On the other hand, J. over at Tales from the Hood seems to have let it go.


I've been busy or lazy, depending on your perspective. Thinking about these two respectable folks motivates me a little.

Not to be like them, but to be like them.

To say something despite my new found obsession (i.e. my son) and to say it until I've said it so many times in so many different ways that I am done saying it.

* * *

Evil for good

Serendipitous events have encouraged me to write about work: The mighty Mr. J. over at Tales From the Hood blog has initiated an Aid Blog Forum. His goals are to generate conversations around certain topics relevant to aid work. You can see his call to arms here.

His first topic up for discussion is Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR, if you're an acronym junkie). As J. points out, there are many forms. Here's my low down on a couple.

* * *

In the USA

In everyday life in the States, it seems we generally think of CSR as something "certified," for example fair trade coffee or conflict-free diamonds or pretty much anything having to do with REI.

This is marketing, pure and simple - and it works. Prices are raised a little. People choose to pay a little more and support "goodness". Profits are made. That's cool.

But are we (consumers) thinking about it properly? What does "certified" mean? In my examples above, certification means there is some kind of control or regulation of the process by which the product is produced. It's never black or white, but I know that sometimes this "certification process" is totally bullshit.

Those local farmers in Rwanda, Kenya, or Ethiopia who made your fair-trade coffee probably didn't get the global market price for their coffee and still have trouble feeding their kids. In certain contexts it's pretty easy to bribe someone to get "evil diamonds" mixed in with a batch of "good diamonds", and they sparkle just the same.

It's not to say to hell with CSR in this form, it's just to say that it's not always such a pink and shiny simple solution to the world's problems. It is a step in the right direction. It gets people thinking about world problems. And sometimes "certified" might actually mean something. But I doubt if we will save the world this way.

(You may have noticed I didn't bash REI... eh, I admit I'm a fan. NOT for their CSR BS, but rather 'cause they make good shoes and gear, and it's worth it when you get a good sale on.)

* * *

In Aid Work

In aid work, I think of CSR generally as philanthropy by a corporation and can come in two forms: stuff or money.

*

Stuff has a high probability of being categorized as SWEDOW (stuff or shit we don't want, copyright J.), and usually that means the "needy" folks being "helped" don't want it either. (See Footloose post for an example.)

Of course sometimes there are products that could be useful to the "needy" folks and then donated by a corporation, and can thus do some good. An example: A water quality expert was on his way to a big disaster brought some machines to donate to local chlorine producers to increase their production capacity of this much needed product. Why this is a good example: The product was needed for the context, the recipients were already using the product, basically the whole donation was made with forethought about contextual need and appropriateness (and in fact communication with some folks on the ground before hand).

But if forced to get off the fence, I'd say that stuff donated for CSR is pretty much stupid. No, not categorically, but usually. And when I say usually I don't mean 51% of the time, but more like 95-99% of the time.

*

Money donated by a corporation can have negative connotations associated with it in the aid world, but money is money is money. If it's donated well and used well, then to hell with idealistic hang-ups.

A colleague once said "I wouldn't want to put a Wal-mart logo on my wells..." Why the hell not? We put US-AID or ECHO or OFDA or whatever other humanitarian donor logo you like on our wells. We put our silly NGO logo on the well. Why not Wal-mart? Because they are big and evil? Fine they are evil, all the better to take their money and use it for good! (Evil laughter ensues.)

Good donor-ship is a huge topic in and of itself, as is good use of donor money (i.e. good projects), but if there is a little common sense employed, aid can really benefit from a diversification of donors - including corporations.

The sad thing is that common sense isn't always employed. To save the world, NGOs need money. They don't often have the power (or the balls) to say "No" and don't often have the time (or the money) to educate a new corperate donor of the real needs of a strong project. This too often leads to bad projects, or worse to harm.

* * *

Corporate Social Responsibility isn't going to save the world, but like anything, if used intelligently it can be part of the solution and I am all for harnessing evil for good.

Unfortunately, it's not as simple as my blog post makes it out to be.
-Fist of all, I am being pretty naive to think we can harness all evil for good. A lot of corporations don't give a rat's ass about saving the world, but rather focus on taking over the world.
-Second, I have assumed NGOs know what they are doing (not always the case) and that "normal" institutional humanitarian donors are some sort of saints (not always the case).
-Third, I've left out some important scenarios... but you don't really want to read 75 pages of blabber anyway.

Saving the world is pretty complex shit. Read the other posts in this CSR series by clicking here, and new information will be brought to light, man.

Sitting here in limbo...

Some of my posts are about writing.
Some are about personal things.
Some are about work.

Lately I've sort felt as if I am in limbo, between here and there, in all these subjects.

(Some of my posts are about places too, but there is no limbo about that. I'm in Egypt.
Egypt, herself, may be in limbo, but I'm simply an observer.)

* * *

On writing: 

Well my 10 contest adventure is coming to a close. I have now entered 10 contests online... Actually 11: I submitted an extra one because a previous entry seemed to be to a defunct organization. So, on the countdown, I will cut out the defunct submission and now say 10.... Results so far: 1 win, 8 losses and awaiting 1 result.

The limbo: Am I encouraged? Am I discouraged? In the scheme of things, am I a loser or a winner? Hell if I know. 

* * *

On Personal Things:

Limbo at it's finest. Somewhere between being a daughter and being a mother.

Building a cabin with my mom and sister.
Building a baby with my husband.

Both make the earth shake in strange ways that I like.

* * *
On work:

As a workaholic, the past months of not working have been a little hard for me. I admit it. I miss working. I miss toilets. I miss staff. I miss being on the phone for 18 hours straight. I miss logical frameworks. I miss bullshit meetings.

I read a lot about work (about aid work). I read technical documents that I never had the time to read. I read aid blogs. I read criticism of aid work. And there is a lot of criticism out there. Sometimes it tires me. Sometimes it excites me. Sometimes I agree, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I think it's crap-dribble from ignorant people... (and not only when I disagree).

But why's that put me in limbo?
Because I know I am lucky as hell to be able to take this time off to be pregnant and to be a mom for the first time, but I still miss it.

* * *

I have a choice: either be okay with the limbo or do something. I don't much like conclusions, but as long as they are vague enough, maybe they can be useful. So since I've been reading a lot about work, since I don't know where to go with my writing adventure and since my mom is coming to visit me for a while and will probably motivate me...
I should just try to write more about work here.
We will see. I don't want to end up a crap-dribbling idiot.

You win some...

I haven't won any of the 10 public writing contests yet.
Feeling like a loser.
But life goes on. . .

And Ha!
The results for Contest Number 8 are in and I got an Honorable Mention!
Okay, so I didn't get the 1st prize for 100$, but I am counting this as a win in my adventure. (As always, I make the rules.)

The Foundling Review is a bonified, professional online literary magazine, and as honorable mention the piece is published there.  The contest was judged by professional editors and a guest author. So, to me, an honorable mention is a win: it is some recognition by strangers, by professional writers and editors that what I wrote is somehow worth reading.

* * *

The piece itself, as you remember from Eight is Infinity, is a 50 word short story entered in the "Pachas 50-word Fiction Contest". My entry is called "Painting" and started a while ago as a poem that I wrote for my wonderful friend Adrianne for her wedding day, she will recognize it. You can read my 50 word short story here on The Foundling Review website - and also read the winning entry and the 2 other honorable mentions because they are all very cool.

* * *

For the last two contests, I decided I would submit poetry to online journals to see if anything would be accepted for publication. This decision came about because in undertaking this adventure I have found that I, personally, hope more for publication in a journal than winning a contest. So a very personal feeling which maybe tells you about how my goals have changed.

Also, it has been more than a year that I have been on this adventure, and while I will continue to write and submit stuff to contests and other things online, I sort of want to wrap up this 10 writing contest thing. 

* * *

Contest #9 will be a poetry submission to The Foundling Review. (I chose this because of the last contest... seems if those editors liked the 50 word story, maybe I have a better chance?)

Contest #10 will be a poetry submission to Le Petit Zine. (I chose this one because I really like the style of most of the pieces they publish - vivid and interesting. The authors all seem to have a grasp of where to end lines, which is something that is hard for me so I probably have no chance.)

Each submission will consist of a few poems, as per each magazine's guidelines.

* * *

P.S. Today is my birthday. Puts me in limbo? More on that later.

Sum of a summer

They've been calling it The Arab Spring.
It is turning onto summer.
Sunshine. Stagnation. Stifling heat.

* * *

Egypt is hard to characterize. Even those speaking loudest ask themselves questions: "Are we socialist?" or "Are we liberal?" or "Are we secular?" or "What do those terms even mean?" or "What do we believe in?" Exciting to define political parties and hope for elections, but difficult to imagine what is coming together from a million directions.

Sporadic art exhibit in the metro station near Tahrir.

Protests persist, sporadic and punctual - though last Friday was particularly large and specific. The peoples pressure continues from that iconic focal point of Tahrir square. Tents are up and staying, flags, talk of hunger strikes.

Without taking sides, I say this is a good thing. Change won't happen by the revolution itself. Or another way to look at it is that maybe the revolution, as an event, was A change; but defining THE change is gonna take a while and a lot of work.

* * *

Most people haven't seen their lives change yet. There are not more jobs or higher pay. This shouldn't surprise anyone.

Inequality can be subtle or blatant, but it's always there.

There is a man who by day sits in front of the metro station under a bit of shade from a tree. He sells lettuce. His spot is washed and cared for. He has 4 healthy basil plants that he sets out to outline his spot. He sleeps there.

There is a man and his son who have a cart and donkey. They sell tomatoes, potatoes, peppers and onions. Their cart is clean, they have a scale, the donkey is skinny. They move about calling constantly a repetitive song announcing their arrival.

There is an old man, fat and content, who has a small shop that he locks at night. He sells 3 kinds of lettuce, 2 kinds of eggplant, 3 kinds of onions, 2 kinds of garlic, fennel, celery, spinach, potatoes, sweet potatoes, zucchini, squash, rocket, herbs, about a dozen kinds of seasonal fruit, eggs, and often he has frozen shrimp or whitefish fillets. He has some refridgeration. His son does most of the work, with their 3 other employees. The older man sits in his chair, says hello to everyone and smokes.

There is a shiny mall with 6 floors and a 3-D cinema. In the mall is a huge supermarket. The vegetables are frozen and wrapped in plastic. They are all imported.

* * *

My last 2 lessons in Arabic class were the most useful so far (this will tell you something about what I do with my time these days). We learned the numbers and about the vegetable seller. How to say "Where is my change?" and all the fruits and vegetables. I still suck at speaking Arabic, but with this lesson under my belt I am really going to impress the fat man and his son.

I've been out of the academic environment for almost 10 years now, but when I was there I was a nerd: I always had good marks, maybe not #1 every time, but top 3, top percentiles on standard tests. I was never outrightly arrogant about it, but B's upset me and I just always expected myself to be at the top.

But alas, we grow up and have to learn things that are more useful than calculus or physics. Like new languages.

Learning French in the Peace Corps, I was the worst, or at least bottom 3 (at least I stuck to my pattern there). Today I am learning Arabic at the American University and I suck. Suck. SUCK.

Humility is good for the soul and has a practical purpose as well. Re-evaluating priorities. Physics happens weather or not I understand it, but can I purchase a head of lettuce?

* * *

Eight looks like infinity

Writing Contest Update!

Check out post "Seattle Seven" for a complete summary and links to all past contests. I'm not doing so good, but still having fun.

So, contest number 8 has been entered! Results should be known by mid-July, as per the contest announcement.

It is sponsored by the Foundling Review literary magazine, and is called the "Pacaas Contest." From the website:

"Foundling Review's 50-word Fiction contest
Pa.chaas [pah-chaas] - noun Hindi fifty.
50 words. No more, no less."

As usual, I can't put the piece up until after the results are announced, so you'll have to wait until mid-July for that.

* * *

In the mean time, I like the idea of 50-word fiction. In entering this contest I wrote another piece, which was a bit too cliche, so I will share that here, just to keep you entertained. I don't know what is special about 50-word pieces, but I like it.

I think creative writing should be about using as few words as possible. If the word isn't needed get it out of there.  If you get rid of a word and lose meaning, then search for better words. I guess that's why word restrictions are cool to me.

There is an interesting man who I "know" professionally, if only briefly by email. None the less, I have some respect for the dude. He seems to be smart, with critical, yet proactive and practical ideas about the work we do (or try to do) in coordination. I regret not getting to meet him in Haiti. His relevance to this post is that, as well as being a cluster guru, he is a rad poet of 50-word poem essays. I like them and I like to see this personal, creative side of someone whose name I see a lot professionally.

* * *

Son

Archetypal pterodactyl egg transmogrified into lizard, into monkey, into man. I make you rumble, jerk and pee, scraping your insides with virilocal nails and lenient bones. I breathe your blood in and out and in, while you cry, sucking solid air. We will meet and you will love me.

Why ask why?

First advice I received from Mario upon arrival to Egypt: "Do not ask why."

Of course, my response was: "Why?"

The response to me was: "Yes."

* * *

Depending on where I am going in Cairo, I take a taxi or the metro. I like the metro better because it is such a good deal! A taxi ride is cheaper than in the states (maybe 10$ across town, only 5$ to downtown), but it is still more than the metro. The metro costs 1 Egyptian pound, about 20 cents. 

The metro has lady cars, which is nice. Ladies can ride anywhere, but men can't ride in the lady car.

* * *

There is a 15-20 minute walk from my house to the metro station. It's a nice walk, but no matter where you go outside the air pollution gives you black bougers. Sidewalks exist - but it is like that old conundrum... we park in the driveway, and drive on the parkway. 

In Cairo, cars park on the sidewalk and folks walk in the street.

In my Quest for Why? I have come up with a hypothesis. 

The sidewalks are about a foot high off the street (that's almost up to my knee). So, as you are walking along and the sidewalk ends (for a cross road or what not), you have to make this big ass step down (KER-PLUNK) then a big step up on the other side (ooOOF). I know I am not the only lazy walker on Cairo streets, because many people have set up little rag-tag pieces of rubble to make an intermediate step.

* * *

As it is in traffic, on the metro, it is not uncommon to see people that walk through the cars selling things you might need. Band-aids, gum, coloring books, blow up guitars, phone credit, stickers. Sometimes the seller will yell out his/her wares, sometimes he/she will throw them in everyone's lap only to make another lap around the car to collect them all back, sometimes they are real sales people with a show.

One day I was sitting (rare) on the metro with my Ipod listening to This American Life watching this Egyptian life. There were two ladies selling household items like hangers, knives, shower curtains, loofas and what not. They apparently were quite good because people kept laughing as they talked about their merchandise and demonstrated the practicality of the loofa on a rope to scrub your back.

And they had potato peelers. 

An old, large woman in a black hijab at the back of the car beckoned to the young ladies, she was interested. The saleswoman showed her the item: high quality, she assured her. There was a thin, Coptic woman next to the old woman. The thin woman reached in her bag, pulled out a potato and handed it to the older woman to try out her peeler. 

* * *

As for the revolution. I need not speculate on what will happen in the future, but today the revolution has affected the metro. 

As in many metros around the world, in the cars there is a schematic map of the stations along the line. There once was a station called "Mubarak."

First, the station name was scratched out, as if with a boys pocketknife or with a marker or a ball point pen. 

Then, home-made stickers appeared in some cars, with a new name. 

And now a law has been passed to officially rename it. 

Oh the wonders of democracy.

* * *

So why ask why? 

Because sometimes there is an answer.

Because sometimes it is entertaining.

Because sometimes no answer is really just a million answers.