Today I had the opportunity to go on a class "fieldtrip" with my Environmental Issues in Development Class taught by an American professor who has lived and conducted research in Egypt for the past 30 some years. About 12 of us from the class, a mix of Egyptian, Sudanese, Saudi Arabian, Norweigan, Japanese, Belgian, Spanish, and Americans, traveled to the small village of Abkhass in the Minufiyya area, about an hour and a half drive North of Cairo. We rode in a gigantic tourist-like bus along the banks of the Nile until the tip where the branches begin to split. From there, we followed the West (?) branch that brought us to winding paths and dirt roads through what seemed like hundreds of miniscule villages that are built up along the water and irrigation canals. We arrived around 11AM, having taken several detours on the drive due to "bridge problems." The bus driver dumped us out on the edge of the village where the "good" dirt road ended, and agreed to wait for us until we had seen our share.
My professor, who had conducted pollution related research in the village about 10 years ago was accompanied by an Egyptian research associate and a local from the town who agreed to show us around. We began our "tour" by simply meandering down a small dirt path that appeared to be taking us to the center of the village. Bunched together in our little pack, we immediately caught the attention of the villagers out and about doing their daily work. Women loosely covered in scarves and dress-like galibayyas peered down at us with great curiosity from their balconies as they hung the morning wash on the drying lines, though their ingrained modesty kept them from saying anything to us apart from a "salaam alekum" in response to our greetings we dispensed to everyone we came across. Past the two, three, and even four story apartments that were neither large nor small (though seemingly much nicer than some of the poorer ones in urban areas in Cairo), we peered into workshops where white, blue, and brown galibayya-clad men worked with a steady, even pace on producing building materials, tiles used for irrigation, and some type of bricks (not like the ones we see in the states, nor the old style mud-bricks which they no longer make use of). As we walked along, other passerbys on donkeys, bikes, and an occassional motorbike gave us their welcomings and greetings warmly and politely, though it was clear that all were trying to figure out what this strange pod of foreigners and "upper class" Egyptians were doing here. By the time we reached what seemed to be something of a center of the village, a trail of about 20 children was following us, dancing and prancing about in excitement, following us as far as they could before their mothers' call beckoned them to come back to the house.
Next we were escorted into an elementary school teeming with yet more (nearly 200 I imagine) vibrant and playful children running about in the courtyard, presumably during recess time. The school principal took us into his office, insisting that we drink orange soda before resuming with our visit, and offered to show us around the school. As we filed back into the court yard, we saw all of the children neatly organized into six or seven lines, with three in front holding drums and bells. As soon as we stepped outside, a teacher (?) began rattling off chant-like commands, to which the drums, bells, and children responded in rhythm, clapping, and dance. I'm not sure if it was some form of a school cheer, or way of organizing, but it was certainly impressive, and the kids were eager to show off the strength of their voices and the saviness of their dance moves. After this, we peered into a few classrooms, including a biology lab which contained three microscopes (from what year I have no idea), and a computer class, which consisted of a single computer and projector which the children watched from the distance of their benches. From the roof of the four story school, we were able to get something of an aerial view of the whole area and its neighboring villages. From atop the building, the air seemed so clean, so fresh, it felt like this was the first real breath of air I had taken since coming back to Cairo. All around us were lush pastures of irrigated farm land. The lush greens--so rich in comparison to the sandy dust color that swallows the streets of Cairo, with farm cattle, goats, sheep, and chickens (which apparently hadn't been disposed of properly since the inset of 'Bird Flu') created such a picturesque and serene setting that I had only imagined before as existing in a Biblical village on the Delta of Egypt. I suppose that aside from the computer, several microscopes, and satellites dispersed on a few apartment roofs, the village may indeed have been quite similar to when it undoubtedly existed in Biblical times.
After leaving the school, we began our walk to the outskirts of the village where the farmers had set up informal irrigation ditches to feed off the main ones put in place by the government. Men were busily at work pushing the water into their fields, hoeing the soil, and keeping watch over the animals kept in pens made of corn stalks, while women crouched along the banks of the irrigation canals to wash their big silver pots, clothing, and rugs. As we greeted each family we passed, they immediately replied that we should come into their homes, "atfadalu," upon which we thanked them for their kindness and kept on our track with a simple "alay khaleek." Though the villagers certainly were curious about its guests, they were extremely respectful of us, and aside from their stares of curiousity, treated us as if we didn't stick out at all.
Being the focus of our trip, we were able to observe how the irrigation ditches were used for various practices with the assistance of motor powered water pumps owned by various groups of the community and also free hand pumps. We also noted how the villagers held no fear of dashing in and out of the water, whether for farming, washing, or pleasure purposes, despite the warnings of the government about schistosomiosis, a parasite that enters the humans intestinal system through the Nile water. (However, our guide told us that there was actually a low rate of the parasite in the community.) As for waste, the village seemed to hold a few informal dumps, but most of the people simply burned their trash outside their own homes. Though this seemed inconceivable to some of the urban Egyptian students in our group, the villagers really have no other choice, considering the fact that there are no trash collectors or government organizations that do anything about the waste. Empty canals served as informal sewage dumping grounds (there is only a local water system, nothing of a sewage system), and while they didn't seem completely disgusting, they no doubt serve to in part contaminate the other sources of water in the village.
Before heading back to the bus, we were of course required to stop by the house of the village leader to pay our respects and receive his welcoming. Though we expected only tea or a soda, he insisted that we stay for lunch, and delivered us delicious pastry-like fateer with cheeses and sweet honeys for dipping. A few of his many children came out to shake our hands and sit with us, and as we ate he repeatedly thanked us for visiting and welcomed us to return at any time, they would be happy to host us whenever we liked.
My greatest impressions of the village were somewhat mixed, and of course full of the paradoxes that seem to be so prevalent in this country. For one, the serenity and the beauty of the earth and the land was immediately striking. After living for seven months in a virtuall rainless dust-covered and heavily polluted city, the greens and blues stood out tremendously. Like I hadn't even seen those colors in ages. Secondly, was the different behavior of the people in the village versus Cairo. While I'm sure our group was a much more anomolous site in the village, we were generally treated with more respect and dignity. Whether that is because they were simply more stunned by our arrival or simply the fact that they don't have the same level or degree of social "freedoms" than are in Cairo, where young boys are more than "feeling their oats." Also, like the rest of Egypt, the village of Abkhas is a mixture of a town and people caught in the grasps of the middle ages, where traditional farming tools are used, donkeys are a popular mode of transportation, and people generally have no need for shoes, let alone high heels--and yet an amazing expression of modernity, with satellite TVs, pop music blaring on the radios, and cell phones ringing ubiquitously throughout the village.
posted by Katie Warren @ 11:50 PM
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