A Thought-Provoking Visit to Egypt, June 2003
Not long after returning home to Cape Cod from giving two management seminars in Cairo, his first visit to Egypt, Christopher Lovelock ran into a local acquaintance from church, an educated man of around 60. “Where have your travels taken you to, lately?” he asked. “Egypt,” was the response. The man’s draw dropped and, with a penetrating look, he asked in a tone of surprise bordering on disapproval “Why-ever would you want to go there? Christopher takes up the story:
“It was my turn to be surprised. I reminded myself that the Iraq conflict was in full swing, but his disapproving tone suggested more than concern with my safety. I thought I’d reassure him that I’d never been in harm’s way before I told him why I’d wanted to go to Egypt and what I’d got out of my visit beyond my fee. So I mentioned that I’d checked out security issues beforehand and had been assured that I had nothing to worry about, that Cairo was in fact a very safe city, apart from obvious things like pickpockets, and that the Luxor area—which I hoped to visit over the weekend, had long maintained exceptional high levels of security to protect tourists and there there’d been no truly serious incidents since 1988, when a large group of tourists had been gunned down by terrorists in an ancient temple. In fact, the local people were so dependent on income from tourism that they themselves were extremely vigilant in ensuring that tourists felt safe and had a nice relaxing time. ‘Hmmph!” grunted my acquaintance, “Well that’s good to know, anyway.”
“Having got that out of the way, I went on to tell him about my professional experience teaching a seminar to a group of about three dozen Egyptian managers, including a handful of women. They came from a variety of companies, ranging from well-known multinationals to family-owned businesses. They ranged in age from late 20s to early 50s, but the majority were in their mid-30s.
“The seminar was being held at resort hotel on the outskirts of Cairo, part of a huge new speculative development that was apparently struggling (as such things often do in the U.S.). On one side was a golf course, surrounded by modern, upscale houses and tee-side condos that wouldn’t have been out of place in Arizona (the climate and terrain were very similar). On the other side of the hotel was a health club with pool. Beyond that was a theme park, and on the horizon, to one side of the roller coaster, one could see the Pyramids about 12 miles distant. Rounding out this extraordinary ensemble was a brightly colored new mosque, almost gaudy to my eyes (but in fact not untypical and fully in conformance with Islamic precepts). Greater Cairo is a city of contrasts. En route to the hotel, our drive along the modern highway had passed modern office blocks, apartment buildings ranging from opulent to decaying, and mud-brick slums. But this development literally blew the mind.
Five times during the day (dawn, noon, afternoon, sunset, and evening),
the voice of the muezzin could be heard distantly over the loudspeakers
located in the mosque’s minarets, reminding the faithful that it
was time for prayer. I was reminded of the Europe of my youth, when it
was common for Catholic churches to ring their bells three times a day
(6 am, noon, and 6 pm) to urge the faithful to stop what they were doing
for a moment and say the prayers of the Angelus. The 19th century French
artist, Jean-François Millet, created a touching and well-known
painting called “Angelus,” showing a peasant couple in a cornfield,
bowing their heads in prayer as the sun sets. Devout Muslims still maintain
their own tradition. We arranged the coffee breaks in my seminar to accommodate
the 30% of participants who wished to take time to pray at the prescribed
time (the amplified voice of the muezzin was just audible in our classroom,
like a distant church bell). While we headed to refreshments, some of
the men remained and knelt individually in corners of the room, facing
east towards Mecca, and prostrated themselves in prayer on a small prayer
mat for several minutes, rejoining us later. For them, work and spirituality
were closely intertwined in their lives. I had encountered this scenario
before in both Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and Jakarta, Indonesia (although
Indonesians tend to be much less observant). After the break, it was back
to market segmentation.
“In advance of my visit, I told my acquaintance, I had been briefed
by a professor at The American University in Cairo, who told me that although
most participants were ethnic Arabs, I would find them closer to Europeans
in outlook and sophistication than stereotypical Middle Easterners. And
that proved to be the case. Widely traveled and well informed, a number
had worked overseas and several held advanced degrees from North American
or European universities. In addition to their native Arabic, a the participants
spoke fluent, albeit sometimes strongly accented English. But some spoke
it so well (with either a British or American accent) that I wondered
if they had been educated abroad as children. In fact, a few had, but
others had also attended international schools in Cairo or elsewhere in
the Middle East. Many spoke three or more languages. French was the most
common European language but several had learned German during assignments
in that country. A handful spoke Hebrew (Israel is very close and the
group included one Israeli who was living and working in Cairo); a couple
spoke Farsi, the language of Iran. They were an interesting and demanding
group to teach. Some complained afterwards in their evaluations that my
seminar content was not challenging enough.
“Also on my agenda, I told my acquaintance, was a half-day seminar in the center of Cairo, held on the banks of the Nile in a deluxe five-star Conrad that would have done credit to any world-class city. The well-dressed audience of 150 were primarily Egyptian but included a number of foreigners, too. There were many female participants, some of whom wore headscarves and smart long dresses with long sleeves—appropriate attire for the modern Muslim businesswoman. One thing that surprised me about the audience (and Cairo in general) was to learn and observe that a significant minority of Egyptians are not ethnic Arabs, nor even Muslim (about 10% are Christian Copts, or Jews, or belong to other religions). Egypt has been invaded many times over the millennia and has in past centuries forcibly imported slaves from sub-Saharan Africa, other Middle Eastern countries, and eastern Europe. At one of the breaks I was talking to a smartly-dressed young white woman who spoke perfect English with a slight accent. I guessed her to be German or Scandinavian, perhaps Danish. ‘Where are you from?’ I asked. She responded. ‘Oh, I’m from Cairo. I’m Egyptian.’ So much for stereotypes!
“Although some prior speakers in the seminars had reportedly arrived in Cairo, taught their classes, delivered their presentations, and scurried straight back home again (often reportedly quite nervous about their personal safety), I had built in several vacation days to see this mythical country. In consultation with my travel consultant (an American woman who had lived in Cairo for 14 years), I arranged an agenda that included the Pyramids (of course), a private tour of Islamic Cairo, and two nights in Luxor, 400 miles to the south. The Pyramids certainly didn’t disappoint, but the suburbs of Cairo are surprisingly close and if one wants a photo with the traditional desert background, one has to choose one’s camera angles carefully. To prep for my tour of Islamic Cairo, I had purchased an illustrated book which wove together the history, art, religion, and practices of Islam, which now embraces more than a billion people around the world. However, as with other religions, there are differing degrees of adherence to its precepts. Many of my seminar participants, in this hotel sandwiched between the golf course, the health club, and the mosque, happily drank beer and cocktails at the bar and ordered wine at dinner. Others drank sparkling water.
“My tour guide was waiting for me at the arranged location. She was a friendly-looking woman in her early 30s, dressed in a headscarf, long-sleeved jacket, and long skirt, all in attractive but muted colors. I held out my hand, but to my surprise she smiled, kept her hands to her sides, and explained that for her to shake hands with a man she didn’t know would be contrary to Islamic tradition. My faux pas was so gracefully deflected that I suffered no embarrassment. I imagined that she must have faced this little cultural problem several times a week.
“I didn’t have time to tell my acquaintance on the Cape all the details of my day with this knowledgeable, friendly, and deeply spiritual woman, a mother of three children. Our time together included visits to mosques, museums, and street markets, plus a jolly lunch in a nice little restaurant where she said she had no objection to my ordering a welcome glass of cold beer. Towards the end of the afternoon, we joined her businessman husband for refreshments in a tiny café tucked away in a lively rabbit-warren of a marketplace. This day left me with a new and more respectful understanding of a great world religion, whose mainstream practices bear about as much resemblance to media coverage of Islamic violence in various “hot spots” around the world as do mainstream Christian practices to the religious manifestations of the most vicious periods of the conflict between Northern Irish Protestants and Catholics during the last 30 years. In both instances, of course, imperial overreach has been a contributing stimulus to exploitation of traditional fundamentalist beliefs for violent political purposes.
“Nor did I have time to do more than paint just a thumbnail sketch of my stimulating visit to Luxor, whose tourist hotels on the banks of the Nile are within easy reach of the Valley of the Kings and the great Temple of Karnak, among other remarkable antiquities. Luxor was very quiet in June 2003. By this time of year, temperatures are rising and tourism drops off. But it was especially empty then as the Americans had stopped coming and even the more stalwart Europeans were there in smaller numbers than usual. The hotels and all the tourist attractions were operating at low capacity, and many local residents who depended on the tourist economy for their livelihoods were suffering as a result. They were not anti-American—they didn’t dislike the people—but they were anti-America, bitter about its government’s actions in Baghdad, more than 700 miles away, because coverage of that conflict had frightened away the tourists upon whom their livelihood depended. Among the many flags flapping gaily outside the hotels and along the Nile waterfront, one was conspicuously missing. Many hotels had left an empty flagpole at the end of a line of flapping flags. Sometimes the Union Jack was missing, too.
“I had already purchased a two-hour sail in a felucca (a distinctive Nile sailboat), so had an excuse to brush off the touts who besieged me as I strolled alone along the riverside promenade in the late afternoon sun. One tout in his mid-to-late 20s, who was particularly persistent, spoke surprisingly good English, even though he only made his livelihood as a boatman. So I told him firmly that I already had a boat booked in 30 minutes’ time but wanted to know how he spoke such good English. He replied that he’d learned through self-study and practicing with tourists. He wished he could go to college and improve himself and his prospects further. But for now all he could do was to skipper another man’s boat with just an illiterate boy to serve as his mate. And he certainly wasn’t able to put any money aside at the present time. ‘We’re desperate for business,’ he lamented. ‘The tourists have stopped coming because of the war. We have nothing against the American people. They’re scared to come, but here they would be perfectly safe. When you go back, tell them to come. We need their business to feed our families.’
“I reflected sadly that sometimes our global political economy has a further reach than we imagine. Frontline jobs in tourism may be demanding and involve long hours with sometimes difficult clients, but they are not sweatshop work like making sneakers. Spending money on face-to-face service encounters brings us insights into other cultures and other lives that we can never hope to obtain from shopping for sneakers or digital cameras at Wal-Mart. I hope when I next return to Egypt—something I’m very eager to do—it will be in happier, more prosperous times for the good residents of Luxor and that missing flags will be flying again.
“Back on Cape Cod, my acquaintance took his leave, looking thoughtful
but not entirely convinced. If I had administered a before-and-after pair
of questionnaires about his beliefs and attitudes, I wonder how much of
a shift there would have been.”
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Last Updated 2005-03-29