الاستقلال - Independence

Istiqlal - Independence

It was Texas Independence Day yesterday. I'm thinking about the idea of independence for a couple reasons. If you'll bear with my turkish-coffee fueled musings, I'm mulling over the idea of independence with respect to...

... Texas! It's never really stressed me out to be distant from Texas, simply because I know I'll be going back many, many times in my life. Plus it's my immediate point of return after Egypt, at least for the fall semester. Being away from people can be, well, lame, but largely because my crew of ambitious, talented friends keeps moving AROUND the country. (Stay still! Gotta know where to find you all come fall. Fortunately, an exodus to NYC continues, which will make autumn visits a simpler endeavor.)

But yesterday, on the 176th anniversary of Texas declaring itself a separate republic from Mexico, a half-hour's drive through those isolated, prairie-surrounded roads north of McNeil High, a Town Lake run (does anyone actually say Lady Bird?), a margarita (rocks, frozen, salt, idonotcare), a bowl of tortilla chips and salsa doña, and a table full of Texans (any Texans, not being picky) would have been SWELL, y'all. Happy birthday you lovely state, you, Texas!

Other sorts of independence include...

.... freedom from English-Arabic dictionaries. This sounds THRILLING, yes, and you probably really want details about my daily interaction with dictionaries. I know. I know. But in the life of any language dork (which you aaaaall are, in some way, with some language, admit it), this is a big deal. I have this one enormous French-French dictionary that I treasure, and I remember the point at which I felt like a big enough girl to use it. I'd held off buying one or using one and just kept using a small, banged-up French-English Larousse (remember when google translate DIDN'T exist?) until a UT French professor of mine said "That's it, I'm sick of all of you not using real dictionaries. Buy something worthwhile, for God's sake.") In office hours with my Foussha (formal Arabic) teacher this week, a similar episode occurred. She asked which Arabic-Arabic dictionary I use... I replied that I still use the Hans-Wehr (a green Arabic-English tome of root-system-organized magic). She got upset and said "You're all well past that point now! Arabic-Arabic only!" I laughed and (actually, kind of rudely, whoops, I'm realizing now) said, "Absolutely not... I NEED that Hans Wehr, I need my Google translate, and I need my English translations." She said to try a go without them. I've been trying. It's not been half bad! I curled up on our red and orange couch (yep. Egyptian color schemes), without a dictionary, reading a book on Islam and democracy for our Islamic Studies class, and while I didn't understand everything, I understood most of it (though really, democracy + Islam + Middle Eastern politics... it all doesn't get any simpler in Arabic. Buh. )

... freedom from feeling any need to act like I'm more into politics than I actually am. Being here, it's impossible not to remain somewhat involved in political talk. Presidential elections are supposedly taking place on May 24th, a swiftly upcoming date that was just announced this past week. It is, without sarcasm or falsehood, truly fascinating to be in a country in the very midst of such historic transition. BUT. That said... Having gone through a semester of often politics-focused coursework last term, and facing another few weeks of politics-focused coursework this term, I'm tired of a lot of it, at least as fodder for our classwork. In our Egyptian novel class, on the other hand, we're reading the Arabic equivalent of Fight Club (seriously, I don't know how this doesn't infringe on copyright issues, it's nearly exactly the same story in a different language), and even though the novel is ridiculous and tricky, prose-wise, I LOVE reading something that isn't about Israel, that isn't about democracy, and that isn't about the current and oft-depressing state of Middle Eastern politics.

... freedom from pointless internship work. My internship has changed from something time-wasting to something still time-consuming and stressful but in the best sorts of ways. My crew and I's tasks include filming short interviews with folks in Egyptian Arabic, so if I don't know how to say something, it's on display. And on film. It helps encourage some ridiculous on-the-fly Arabic constructions that fall out of my mouth, and as a result, some awful video clips are in my boss' possession. They'll likely be put on the internet on my workplace's website, the link for which will remain undisclosed. :) 

... from fear of men. This last one is something I'm actually working on, something I didn't have in the slightest before I came here, and something I WANT independence from. Today I went running on the corniche, with a male friend from my program, and it was wonderful, fabulous, relaxing, and a far cry from the experience when I'm by myself running in public (which I've all but stopped doing.) It's an awful truth that I (and a lot of my female program-mates) flinch from unknown men in the street, or avert our gaze. We've just had too many episodes of unwanted verbal and occasionally physical harassment. Walking with someone, the world is totally different than when walking alone, when Egypt can be an unfriendly sort of place.

At a potluck last night, thrown to bid farewell to the wife of one of our program-mates, who is going home a few months early, this subject was front and center. She's returning to the States for a number of reasons, but mainly because she's reached her last nerve with respect to the daily harassment and fear of things escalating. It just plain sucks that uncivilized behavior would cause someone to leave, especially someone as great and brave as her. 

That depressing note aside, finally, I've realized there are a few things I will never be independent from. Some include this blue Old Navy fleece jacket I'm wearing (in my wardrobe since the 7th grade), my habit of listening to Edith Piaf while cleaning, and morning news-grazing on nytimes.com. These things that don't change, despite where we go, keep us sane, non?

(Speaking of nytimes, if you can access this link and have interest, read this haunting, beautifully crafted story about Anthony Shadid's final days in Syria. If the deluge of media about Syria is confusing, this article might help clear up the basics, while paying homage to a fabulous journalist, allahyarhumu.) http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/04/world/middleeast/bearing-witness-in-syria-a-war-reporters-last-days.html?pagewanted=all