There is something utterly refreshing about getting to see a movie of one’s own choice, without consultation, compromise, or family-friendly constraint. The Hangover was crude but funny; The Proposal was mediocre but enjoyable. It is also fun to see a movie with a friend (in my case, two different friends) who is equally disposed toward being amused and entertained. As for getting your own bag of popcorn, that is just heaven.
I am not finding a lot of inspiration to blog these days — the distractions of repatriation are too overwhelming. I thought I would take a moment to note, though, that I had a great opportunity to do some more substantial thinking than usual about some work I have been doing (as part of a larger team) in East Africa. I was asked to compile our findings on trade policy and trade facilitation in the region, and, not without considerable struggle, a lengthy paper emerged. Last week in Washington, I delivered the highlights of my paper to a small audience at the Millennium Challenge Corporation.
Below, a short section from my paper that summarizes what I think is darn near the top of the list of Trade Challenges in East Africa:
A fundamental issue with respect to the transport of goods to market in East Africa – but one that appears remarkably absent from the trade policy agenda – is that of the overwhelming cost of roadblocks and weigh stations in the region. The extent to which this issue overwhelms the regional trade environment makes it a policy issue that lawmakers should be discussing at the highest levels. A 2008 survey of the East African Business Council found that the costs and time lost by trucks forced to stop for random police checks result in dollars lost and time wasted at rates that would be unheard of in more developed economies that are less tolerant of petty corruption.
Specifically, truckers traveling west to Mombasa or Dar es Salaam report an average of 19 roadblocks and 4.4 weigh stations per trip, for a total of nearly 12 hours spent on such diversions. At one count, there were 47 roadblocks and weigh stations between Kigali and Mombasa. Although the individual bribes routinely sought from truckers are usually not large, they accumulate dramatically – nearly US$8 million are reportedly paid at the roadblocks and weigh stations per year in the EAC countries alone. More importantly, the time lost in transport presents untold costs in trade opportunity: fresh agricultural goods that might otherwise be suitable for market – whether domestic or international, exported processed or raw – are vulnerable to loss as a result of these indefensible delays.
Attention has been paid by governments, donors, and investors alike to building better roads and bridges, improving customs and other border processes, and otherwise strengthening the facilitation of transport in East Africa. Yet smooth passage along domestic roads is generally neglected as a trade policy issue. In fact, outsiders in a position to influence the practice may not appreciate the extent of the problem, as diplomatic license plates and tourist vehicles are more likely to be waved through roadblocks. For the remaining road users, however, when their vehicles are stopped by armed officers, the intimidation level is high.
Executive or legislative action in EAC and COMESA countries that effectively bans random roadblocks and reduces the number of weigh stations is necessary. At this time, however, the vast and disparate local interests vested in maintaining this infrastructure for corrupt or otherwise misguided purposes remain under-explored, insufficiently discussed, and, as a result, virtually intractable.
Bear with me.
Up early, fretting about all that is not yet packed, communicated, or resolved. But we — three out of four of us — are just about ready to take our leave. It has certainly been a long goodbye, and, notwithstanding our great affection for our home of the past four years, we are now eager to get the show on the road.
In June, the girls go to camp, while I do the business of seeking out our new home in North Carolina and getting oriented there. I am especially looking forward to meeting up with my BFFs in Olney at the end of the month.
In July, the Big E repatriates. Thereafter, he will be known as the Big D. I am scheduled to work for two weeks in Vietnam.
By August, we will be reasonably settled, encha allah, and I am hoping that my work in Tanzania will finally begin. If it doesn’t, I might go to Pakistan.
Thereafter, our “new mix” of life-work balance will contine. We are excited about this grand experiment — sort of a mash up of the “four-hour workweek,” a strong inclination toward independence, and a “focus on what you like to do” approach to living and livelihood.
I am happy to brief any and all about our next steps. Long, detailed interrogations, however, are not encouraged. Interested parties are advised to limit themselves to 10 well considered questions over the next several weeks, so that they may avoid getting snapped at.
See you on the other side!
A poem by Evie:
What if my teacher was a unicorn?
She would fly around the school
Her horn would be a rainbow
And she wouldn’t wear a shoe
Maybe she would even play the kazoo!
We’d fly in the sky
Having a very good time
But I like my teacher
Because she can do anything
Except fly!
Photos on FB.
Not in the Top Ten, but still cool:
1. Otlob. We didn’t use it very often, but I always liked the idea of Otlob — quick delivery to your house of highly affordable restaurant food through the click of a mouse.
2. Dr. Ghaley. French-Egyptian workaholic doctor who was trained in emergency medicine in New York. Accessible, thorough, cheap. Probably the best access to health care my family and I will ever have.
3. Neighborhood walkability. To school, to the grocery store, to “stuff” on Road 9, to the pool, to friends’ homes. It is a true luxury.
4. The weather, October 1-May 1. It was great. As for the remaining time in the year, we were lucky to miss about half of it.
5. Ramadan. Can’t believe I am saying this, but there is a festiveness about a 30-day period during which one has a built-in excuse for getting nothing done.
6. Driving. On the whole, the Egyptian experience with driving is appalling. But I suspect that, back home in States, where lines are neatly formed and no-one moves because the light says you can’t, notwithstanding the absence of opposing traffic, I will long for local strategies of creating three lanes out of two; turning left when you have a good four seconds to do so; and heading the wrong way down one-way streets, as long as there is no-one coming. Keep moving, people!
7. My housekeeper. Oh, how I will miss her. And not just for the obvious reasons — clean laundry and a made bed every day! — but because she is a wonderful person whose hand was dealt with far less privilege and opportunity than mine, but whose warmth, graciousness, professionalism and dignity will always be an inspiration to me.
I take it back — that last one does belong in the top ten. My top ten list now goes to 11.
It was all too easy to spin out the list of things I won’t miss . . . but there is definitely a healthy set of “will miss” things in this world I am about to leave, too. Here they are:
1. The big, beautiful, always-a-bit-startling first call to prayer of the day. I have never regretted lying awake at 4:25 in the morning (or being up) and hearing the lovely cacophony that briefly passes over Cairo when the city is still dark and another hour or so away from its chronic state of loudness.
2. The culture of craftwork that remains, despite modern conveniences and the proliferation of crap. I like the alabaster, iron candle-lamps, rough wall-hangings, woodwork and silly figurines, but mostly I like the amazing skill of tentmaking and appliqué. I like that men as well as women are skilled stitchers, and my favorite place to visit in downtown Cairo is the Tentmakers’ Bazaar.
3. The Tentmakers’ Bazaar is about half-way through my favorite walk in Cairo, from the Kahn el Khalili to the Citadel. The sights, sounds and smell of the trek are unforgettable — you pass by the ancient Fez maker; donkey carts trying to squeeze past small trucks; austere chador shops located next door to sexy lingerie merchants; important, decorated mosques; all manner of fruit and meat, the latter being both dead and alive; bales of wool, stacked high in narrow shops; and always something else that you didn’t notice the last time you passed through.
4. The drive west from Maadi, over the Nile and south toward Saqarra and a chain of other “lesser known” pyramids. I love how rural life marches right up to urbanity, and I like seeing the date farms, the young boys driving donkey carts, the painted homes (you know someone inside has gone to Mecca), the colorful stacks of produce for sale, and the water buffalo.
5. The metro. It always impresses me that this very simple system, for pennies a ride, will get you downtown from Maadi, much faster than by car and with far less chances of delay or breakdown than the Red Line at home.
6. The antiquities at Giza, Luxor, Aswan, and Abu Simbel. Seriously, everyone should visit Egypt at least once in a lifetime. The treasures of this country’s history are incomparable. Also, I recommend taking the train from Cairo for your journey to Upper Egypt.
7. The tragic, amazing Nile, the true mother of Egypt. Best viewed from the above-mentioned train.
8. Cairo American College, which has been, for both girls, a precious and remarkable learning environment, as chronicled in this blog over the last four years. It has also been a treasured source of community for me.
9. The dynamism of the expatriate community — smart, nice, interesting people who do not bat an eyelash over professional peculiarities or dramatic changes at the very last minute. Everyone is used to living this way, and feels the richer for it.
10. The warmth and silly humor of most Egyptians. Despite the rampant unfairnesses of the country, even the poorest Egyptians will greet you with a twinkle in the eye, an unbegrudging smile and sometimes even a joke. If you have a flat tire along the side of a road (and we have been there), someone will always stop to help. I have visited many places in the past several years, and the Egyptian tendency toward good humor is truly distinctive. We will always consider ourselves lucky to have lived here.
As it turns out, naming ten things to miss was easy, too.
The dining room table was sold to the realtor’s wife, although, as anticipated below, the topless table remains in our entryway.
Four bags of games and puzzles (we seem to have a million left) went to the realtor’s wife and her sister, when they showed up unannounced to pay for the table and to scope around for more stuff.
We left a rusted, old bicycle that someone had handed down to us with our garbage, and it was immediately taken away. We have every reason to believe that it will be rehabilitated and used, somewhere in Cairo.
One box of toys (shh, don’t tell Evie) went to the St. John’s church collection, I think. When I arrived at the church with my box, I simply handed it to someone who appeared to work there. What he did with it, I don’t care.
Two large loads of clothes went into a bin at school — an Eagle Scout candidate will be getting them to some Sudanese refugees.
The large crate of pantry items (rice, oil, soap, and beans) that our Girl Scout troop collected, but I dithered over dealing with, will travel out to Maryanne’s farm tomorrow for her to share among her rural neighbors. “We can distribute anything,” she said. She will also take a suitcase of old clothes and some miscellaneous kitchen items.
Four of Evie’s prettiest outgrown dresses have gone to Mona, our housekeeper’s daughter. Mona will also get some of our outgrown dress-up clothes and a variety of children’s books.
A bag of books that boys might enjoy (including the god-awful Captain Underpants and our entire Froggy collection), along with two years of old Highlights magazines, went to our temporary housekeeper’s two sons, age 7 and 8. (We have a temporary housekeeper because our regular one just had a baby).
A lamp that I quite like but will have no use for in the States (due to power conversion issues) will go to a friend.
I suppose we could sell our TV, blender, microwave and a couple of other kitchen items, but we are more likely to just give them to our housekeeper’s family, who can then manage the irritating task of getting them out of our apartment. I am hoping they will also take the crummy vacuum cleaner.
Today’s project is to get the Girl Scout Troop stuff in order and hand it over to a mother who is staying. I have already deposited my registrar’s bag into the Girl Scout closet at school.
Finally, three of the Big E’s T-shirts, including his Red Wings shirt, went to the bowab. Not sure Mohamed is such a big hockey fan, though, because I have yet to see him wear it.
I have related this family tradition on previous occasions.
On Friday, Evie came up with a real zinger: “What is the stupidest thing you have ever done?”
Most answers involved cooking accidents/mistakes. I recalled forgetting the tickets to the Madonna concert, way back when, as a representative stupid act in my past. There have, of course, been others.
We — three out of four of us, at least — repatriate on June 6. The fourth follows on or about July 4.
I suppose I should pull together my list of 10 things I will miss about Egypt.