The Great Khawaga

As I was waiting for a taxi at 1:30 AM last night, I met an old expat also trying to find a taxi home. You would have thought this guy just got off the boat -- a century ago. He looked like what I'd imagine to be a prototypical 19th century British imperialist. He wore those infamous knickers (British khaki shorts that come up past the knees) with high socks and sported a short-sleeve button-down. My friend told me who this guy is: the Egyptology professor of American University in Cairo...

It's Eid, so almost everyone in Cairo is on vacation. We all decided to just walk home because there weren't any taxis in sight. Just as we get to talking about how annoying Eid is, two motorcycles zoom by us with earth shatteringly loud exhaust.

The British anachronism explained, "That's youth. They're speaking to me. You know what they're saying? Shit... [interjection by my friend: how did you say shit when you were young?] When I was a kid, you know how I said shit? My clothing. My father said, 'hell, you're not going out like that.' I said 'shit.'" 

This guy might have had a little too much to drink, and he started talking about how if Nasr was still around we would be able to find a taxi. 

I told him we were heading to Agouza, and he asked me if I knew the last great khawaga (his pronunciation was terrible) from Agouza. I said no. He made some comments about my youth and ignorance and explained how it was the great Napoleon Bonaparte in 1798 during the Battle of the Pyramids. He went on to explain how evidence suggests that the famous "Battle of the Pyramids" is a misnomer: Napoleon's victory over the Mamluks actually took place in Agouza. 

Battle of the Pyramids

So, who's the great Khawaga in Zamalek? I have no idea, but this guy was the true expat yearning for a return to the past and living in a whole other world.

Where are you going?

to the old woman insha'allah.

There ain't no Little Italy or China Town, but you can certainly go culture hopping in Cairo. To start, I'll recount  an etymology lesson on several different Cairean districts from a nice old man originally from Aswan who sells miscellaneous items like laundry baskets and plastic chairs on the next street over from my apartment.

Agouza (translation: Old Woman) got its name back in the 30s or 40s. An old woman used to sit on the corniche -- the road next to the Nile -- and sell tea and coffee to people driving past. The place didn't really have a name, so if you wanted to meet someone anywhere nearby you'd say "I'll see you at El Agouza." Everybody got on board and the name just stuck.

Dokki (translation: imperative form of "to knock") got its name sometime before the 1950s also. It used to be a military camp made up of thousands of tents. In order to put up the tents, people had to hammer nails into the ground... The name derives from the hammering process.

Mohandessin (translation: Engineers) got its name a little after the first two. The name says it all: this is where engineers lived.

Zamalek (translation -- Turkish to English: living) got its name in the middle of the 19th century. It's a manufactured island in the middle of the Nile -- the west side used to be connected to what is now considered Agouza. Turkish was hot stuff back in the golden days of the Pashas, which explains the Turkishness. The island is divided into two parts: Zamalek -- where everybody lives and offices -- and Gezira -- home to the oldest sports club and government buildings.

Wust El Balad (translation: Down Town) got its name because it's downtown!

Garden City (translation not necessary) probably got its name during the British occupation. There are a lot of trees, so relative to the rest of Cairo it's like a giant garden.

My Egyptian colleagues didn't believe any of these stories... nor the idea that the foreigner knows something more than them about their own city. They checked and google verified the old man's etymology lesson!

Where's Mohammed

On Thursday after a 9 hour long night bus ride, my cell phone must have fallen out of my jeans pocket. When I realized I didn't have my phone -- 10 minutes after the bus drove off -- I used my friend's phone to call my cell. After one ring, some dude answered "Allo." Before I could get out two words, he immediately hung up on me. I called again, and my phone was off... Over the next three days, I tried calling my phone a bunch of times, but it always rang through. Then I sent him a text saying I'd pay to get my phone back.

The phone only costs $20, but  it's worth a lot because it has all my contacts.

When I got on the bus back to Cairo, I decided to try one last time. This is where the silver screen moment comes.

I hit call and two seconds later the Nokia destiny ring tone starts doing its thing. It feels like everybody has this ringtone, so I wasn't completely sure that my phone was going off, but the coincidence of simultaneity got me curious enough to watch the guy answer the ringing phone.

After the guy saw my wide eyes staring at him with a phone next to my ear, guilt swept over his face. I stood up and watched him take the phone out of his pocket. Lo and behold, my callerid was on the phone in his hands... So, I swiped my phone back.

I ask, "Why do you have my phone... Well, it's not important at least I found it. It's my lucky day."
"Oh sorry, I didn't know it was yours."
...
Later he says, "You're lucky"
"And, you're not too lucky, by the way, how did you use $4 dollars worth of minutes in days"
And, like so many Egyptian he responds to my Arabic, not what I said, "Where did you learn Arabic to speak so well.."

So in the end, I found Mohammed -- the guy who had been calling his girlfriends or something with my phone over a 3 day period.

And by the way, the title refers to what the woman who called my phone twice yesterday kept saying. I told her that he stole my phone, and now I have it back, so it's not his number anymore. She wasn't very polite either.

Typical Afternoon at Work

Today

12:18... The Imam arrives from upstairs to set out his prayer carpet

12:20... The bathrooms get bottlenecked by people washing their face and hands

12:23...People start filing in for the 5 minute small talk session

12:25... Somebody turns off the AC

12:31...  It gets real quiet, and then comes the Allahu Akbar (x4)

30 seconds later... The first cell phone goes off

It rings through for 20 seconds

12:32... The second cell phone goes off

12:32:10... An office phone starts ringing

Did I mention people don't silence their phones during prayer?

Suprisingly, it's easy to get used to a bunch of guys bowing and chanting prayers while I'm trying to work, but the constant cell phone buzz is much harder to get over. I assumed that you'd want peace and quiet to connect with God, and that's true, but some people don't really care... Oddly enough, Egyptians are usually pretty considerate in the movie theaters: you usually only hear one phone go off in the theater.

Tomorrow -- Repeat today, but one minute earlier

The New "It" Study Abroad

Check out today's article in NYT's fashion and style section.

It's waaay over the top.

Nile Valley

View of Dronka, Assuit from St. Mary's Monastery

Outside the city of Assuit, it's all agriculture... until you hit the end of the Nile Valley. If you look closely at the picture above, you'll notice the horizon is a mountain of sand (and yes, that gray stuff is the sky). Mountains line both sides of the Nile Valley. Almost everyone who lives in Upper Egypt (the upriver part of the Nile) lives within 10 kilometers of the Nile. Herodotus -- ancient Greek historian dude -- described Egypt as the "gift of the Nile." The Nile literally brings Egypt to life. Just look at a map of the Egyptian governorates, I bet you can guess where the Nile flows.

Map of Egypt with governorates outlined

El Murahan

If you need a loan and you live in a rural villages in Upper Egypt, you might go to El Murahan. El Murahan is the guy who runs the local agricultural pawn shop business. In exchange for a minimum two year loan, he gets usufructuary rights to a portion of the borrower's agricultural land. El Murahan explained his current contract as follows: he loaned 30,000 pounds in return for the rights to farm one hectare (10,000 square meters) of the borrower's land for two years. At the end of two years, El Murahan gets the 30,000 pounds back. If he doesn't the borrower can go to jail, and El Murahan continues to farm the hectare. He claimed that he can usually make 6,000 pounds a year on a hectare of land, so El Murahan makes a pretty penny -- 20% -- on his loans.


Who asks El Murahan for a loan? It's always for consumption purposes. Some people want to help their children marry, but choose another route. The majority buy weapons -- automatic rifles to be precise. 


Why? According to him (and a bunch of others confirmed his story), Asyut is the land of feuds. My local contact, Ibrahim, claimed that the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich can all be involved in feuds in Asyut. Only a couple months ago, the supreme court judge of Asyut killed two people related to someone who killed his son.


Sometimes people wait years for another family's son to grow up and on his wedding day, they'll show up to take care of the vendetta. It's as absurd as the feud between the Grangerfords and Shepherdsons from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Buck Grangerford claims that neither family can even remember who started the feud, but it basically goes like this, "A man has a quarrel with another man, and kills him; then that other man's brother kills HIM; then the other brothers, on both sides, goes for one another; then the COUSINS chip in -- and by and by everybody's killed off, and there ain't no more feud. But it's kind of slow, and takes a long time."


So, you have to ask, how would increased access to finance affect feuds? Maybe speed up the process with automatic weapons?

Waving Flag (Arabic)

What do you do?

Answering this question requires a certain savoir faire. The one word answer just doesn't cut it. If I simply reply microfinance, people get confused. In order to avoid that confusion, I've got a one liner: I am working for a company studying the effects of small loans on poor people in rural Egypt. At least it avoids that awkward confusing look people would give me if I just said microfinance.

What is microfinance?

The provision of financial services including loans, savings accounts, and insurance to low-income people who don't have access to finance through traditional banks. It's regular finance tailored to low income people.

Why study its effects?

In order to deliver aid and spur economic development in the most efficient manner, we have to understand the degree to which programs like microfinance improve lives.

How do you study the effects?

You compare what happened with what would have happened if there hadn't been microfinance. In other words, you compare reality with its counterfactual.

How can you know what could have happened?

You can't! But you can mimic the counterfactual with an intelligent experimental design. You take a sample of your target population and randomly divide it  into two groups -- treatment and control. Theoretically, the two groups have identical characteristics because they were chosen at random. The treatment group is offered microfinance products and the control group is not. After two year, you compare the characteristics of the two groups. That comparison is the best simulation of what happened with what would have happened.

Salam wa Alaikum

A wise man once told me, "If you drink from her nile, you will undoubtably return." And, he was right. I'm back in Egypt -- the so-called "mother of the world," and it's time for round two.


Somewhere in cyberspace exists the original blog The Law of Small Numbers, which consists of over one hundred posts from August 2008 to July 2009 about life in Egypt through an American student's eyes. It began with the story of my first day in Egypt: the very first time I used the bathroom, I unknowingly pressed the bidet lever instead of the flusher. My pants got completely soaked... I learned a lot that year.


As I was walking in downtown Cairo on my first day back in Egypt, I literally bumped into two people I knew. I've already racked up a few Egyptian experiences including chilling in many cafes, eating koshary, fuul, and falafel, taking taxis everywhere for cheap, surviving two car crashes (two days in a row), debating women's rights with fundamentalists, and drinking plenty of fruit juices. Speaking of fruits, the man who sells mangos outside my apartment just told me there are over 50 kinds of mangos in Egypt.


Grab a taxi, put on your seatbelt (only applicable in the new white taxis), and get ready for another ride. Round two. Go!