The Arabic Language Institute (ALI) organized a trip this past weekend to several masjids in the area near Khan Al-Khalili and Tahrir Square, located in the very heart of Cairo. I was particularly excited for this trip because we actually had a history professor from AUC give us a professional tour complete with historical context about the Islamic architecture, regional developments since the 10th century, the relationship between Islamic world and Europe, and many other very essential points to contextualize the tour.
Unfortunately, a few things hampered the tour. Our bus was late by a full 1 hour and 15 minutes. The driver cited that he thought the time was 9 am for pick-up and not 8 am. Undoubtedly, he had confused the pick-up time for the new campus with that of the Zamalek dorms, which was an hour later. This is another example of clear unprofessionalism by Egyptians, a sentiment that seemed to echo with almost every international student I had talked to about the issue on many occasions. It seems odd, even paradoxical, that this culture appears very impatient and rushed for time (note: Cairo traffic, video to come), and yet people don’t keep their schedules. 2:00 to an Egyptian is heard as 2:30, or even 3:00. I say that in jest to some degree, but there is truth to the statement. Timeliness is not something valued in this culture at all, I find. I certainly have much more appreciation for how much we value it in America in light of my experience here thus far.
Once we got on the bus, I proceeded to study the “10 forms” for my grammar exam. The forms concern Arabic morphology (صرف) and are a defining feature of the language and its linguistic structure. I will post an entry after I take my exams on how I think I did and my thoughts on how I think I have advanced in the language in the past 2 months. I also wore the black jalabiyyah that I bought at Khan Al-Khalili last week to see how it would affect how people interacted with me. As I expected, many people still spoke to me in English when I approached them (almost certainly because I was with a ‘foreign-looking’ group), but when I wandered off on my own, I would only be spoken to in Arabic. When I browsed corner stores and shops for food to stock up on and souvenirs for friends and family, many would ask if I was from Sudan. In all likelihood, they guessed Sudan instead of Ethiopia because I am taller and darker than the average Ethiopian. These conversations were brief, but large in quantity, and it was a perfect chance to practice my Arabic in a setting where the option to switch to English wasn’t available to me.
We arrived at around 10:00 a.m and entered the Sultan Hasan Masjid. The entrance, the professor noted, would have a Shaykh sitting there on Friday mornings reciting verses of the Qur’an to invite people to come for the prayer. Outside of the masjid there used to be a place to make wudu for people as they came in. This particular masjid, in addition to several others larger ones around the city, doubled as a madrassa and housed schoolrooms for all four madhabs (schools of legal thought) – Hanafi (حنفي), Maliki (مالكي), Shafi’i (شافعية), and Hanbali (حنبلي) – of Ahlus-Sunnah wal Jama’ah (the Muslim nation following the methodology of Prophet Muhammad) with a wudu station in the middle of the courtyard, as in all masjids built with the “classical” style open-air courtyard. The professor also mentioned that all four doors led to the main hall of each madhab. There was also a clinic in the masjid, but we didn’t get to go to it. The tour guide also mentioned that Mufti Ali Jumu’ah of Al-Azhar gave the Khutbah on Fridays sometimes.
Past the mihrab (niche indicating the direction of Makkah for prayer) and mimbar (pulpit) there was a mausoleum. In the mausoleum, the professor gave us an overview of the architectural history, noting wood was not plentiful in Egypt. Most of the wood used to build the massive masjid was imported from the region of Ash-Sham, consisting of Palestine, Syria, Jordan, and Lebanon. The masjid was also built with different types of limestone and even marble in some parts. Most of the limestone was from Egypt, while the marble had to be imported. Construction took place during the Mamluk Sultanate, but the Sultan himself never saw completion of masjid since he was assassinated before its completion. He had wanted to be buried in the mausoleum, but his body was never found after his death. While in the mausoleum, an older Muslim man said some dhikr (supplications) loudly to test the echoes for us to hear. “Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! – (الله أكبر الله أكبر) – God is the Greatest, God is the Greatest; La illaha illallah – (لا إله إلا الله) – There is no God but Allah” he announced. After that, we went to the Rifa’iyy masjid, which was right across from Sultan Hassan. As we walked in, we immediately saw the mausoleum of a cousin of Imam Ahmad Ar-Rifa’iyy Al-Kabir – رحمه الله may Allah have mercy on him, a top scholar of the Shafi’i madhab and a highly regarded master of the science of Tasawwuf (تصوف) or Sufism.
The mihrab (محراب) in the Sultan Hassan Masjid
After going to these two masjids, we went into the main square of the area and walked around. We came upon a smaller town off to the side and walked past a funeral procession (جنازة) for someone who had just been buried in the cemetery next to the town’s main masjid. Many of those whom we saw looked to me as if they were from Ethiopia or Sudan. More than likely, their ancestors had either mixed with East Africans or they were just very dark-skinned Egyptians.
Throughout the trip I noticed the professor giving generous tips as donations to those who were showing us around the areas. Many in this district of Cairo are very poor, a far cry from the heavy suburbanization in New Cairo. You can find food stands selling meat, fruit, jewelry, etc. at unheard of prices compared to what one would expect in North America and/or Western Europe. A middle-class American could live very, very well in Cairo, if he/she knew where to find things. After my colleague Mike (a Clemson University graduate with a Masters in Middle East Studies) and I had retrieved our belongings from the bus – which was 40 minutes late to pick us up – we went back to the streets to look for some other students who stayed behind to have lunch in Khan Al-Khalili. Mike and I actually got lost trying to find them. It wasn’t so bad being lost, however, since we got to look around at parts of the city we might not have seen before. At this point, I took off my jalabiyyah because it had gotten unbearably hot. Unsurprisingly, more people started to take note of us, with many small children coming up and saying “Hello, hello!” and any other English phrases they knew. Older people called on occasion “Welcome to Egypt!”, to which I usually responded “Thank you very much, O engineer – شكرا جزيلا يا مهندس” The term مهندس means “engineer” literally, but it is used in Egypt and around the Arab speaking world as a sign of a respect, owing to the fact of engineers being very hardworking and intelligent people. (Thanks for the tip, Dr. Kaltner!)
We found the other students at a cafe near a tent-making area, and joined to relax, hang out, and just take in the sights and sounds. A gentleman approached us, inquiring whether Mike was Turkish, which we all chuckled at since he is Italian. We talked to him collectively in Arabic, with Mike and I speaking on behalf of our small group since we were the most advanced students. The man would reply in English, telling us about his experience with Italian people in light of Mike revealing his true background. We mentioned that we were all students at AUC studying at ALI, and the man commended us, saying to stay focused and diligent. After this brief discussion, I had a falafel sandwich, fries, cup of tea, and shared an Apple shisha for only 7 LE, which is a little over $1 USD. (FYI, the exchange rate is about 5.43 LE to $1 USD). Just sublime. How can you beat that?
As we were leaving, I told the group I needed to pray Asr because it would be out before we returned to campus. I quickly put on my jalabiyyah in front of an old Muslim man who was blind in one eye at the door of a small masjid. I hurriedly asked him where I could make wudu. He kindly led the way inside and another brother inside showed me where I could place my shoes and make wudu. I did so, prayed the sunnah, then joined the jama’ah for Asr. As I left, and told the Muslim man to wait for a bit, and I went to retrieve 3 LE – Egyptian pounds – for him, and told him to take it for the sake of Allah and said “peace be upon you from the American Muslims – ” السلام عليكم من المسلمين أمريكيين ” at which he smiled.
After I had prayed, we made our way to the main street and hailed a taxi to go to campus. Chuck, Mike, and myself nearly died trying to get into the taxi, holding up the unrelenting fiend that is Cairo traffic. It never ceases to amaze me how impatient taxi drivers can be. (This entry is way overdue, I could write a whole book on this phenomenon alone)
All said and done, this was a great trip into the city and a much-needed study break just to calm the nerves before exams roll around. Wish me luck. Also, you can find my Flikr gallery for this trip here —> http://www.flickr.com/photos/46496985@N06/sets/72157623620094916/
Finally, a shoutout to all of my friends, colleagues, and professors at Rhodes since the blog is finally on the Buckman website. Please comment and let me know what you think!
It’s sounding really wonderful! I’m learning through your writing. Keep it up!
Erin Hillis
Buckman Center for International Education
Rhodes College
Salaam Akhi,
Your trip is sounding wonderful, and your Arabic progression as excellent as we expected of you. Mashallah.
re: timeliness: that phenomenon of not prioritizing being exactly on time is one that I have heard referred to as Muslim people time in more recent years. What is comment-worthy is that Black Americans are very familiar with the concept under the label of Colored People Time (or just CP-time in common parlance). In West Africa, and among West African people, I have also heard people make reference to their people as not being strict about time. I am still waiting to hear my first confirmation that various Latin American people share the same perception of themselves. So, it may just be that strict timeliness is an unusual characteristic on the planet.
In my own observations, people seem to value relationships more than time and organizational efficiency. Similarly, there seems to be a higher value placed on maintaining cultural integrity than profit and organizational efficiency. This is only my anecdotal observation, though. It is something which I continue to monitor.
Taxi-drivers also have a world-wide reputation. From a seasoned and widely travelled man, I was told that the most reckless were the ones in Bali, Indonesia. After 20 years of sobriety, his txi ride up a mountain-side in Bali ended with him walking straight to the bar and ordering a stuff drink. I have known him for 6 years, and know how serious things have to be for him to turn to liquor. Needless to say, I am in no rush to travel to Bali.
Now, more substantively, your use of Irving Goffman’s concepts (The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life) to facilitate opportunities to practice your Arabic is a joy to read about. As I learn Hausa in Ghana, I intend to use the same method to practice that language. Currently, my clothes result in Ghanaians assuming that I am an Arab. That was a shock for me the first time it happened. Now, I am accustomed to it, and trying to figure out how to make it work for me in ways that are harmless to Ghanaians but helpful for me (or helpful for Arabs, who have a poor reputation among the Ghanaians with whom I have spoken). But I have begun to discover that some clothes cause Ghanaians to see me as just “a northerner” (as opposed to an Arab). This is synonymous with being Muslim, and I think it also will help people assume that I speak Hausa. Plus, maybe I will just start greeting people with “Kwalafia” (i.e. “hello”).