A Christmas Encounter

After a discussion over Christmas eve dinner about the Swedish "integration" policy, I get a ride home with a Somali taxi driver. Turns out he moved to Sweden 17 years ago so he's lived here 2 years longer than me and his Swedish was better than mine. We chatted about the difference between Californian, Somali and Swedish weather, and how driving in snow is not too different from driving in sand. He asked me about Christmas traditions in the U.S. and I said Santa Claus delivers presents to children's stockings on Christmas eve night. I realized how absurd this must have sounded when he astoundedly asked me who takes care of the costs for this? I realized that he probably thought anything could happen in the "land of opportunity" as he called it. At the same time, he said his sister lives in Ohio and she was jealous about the possiblity for all children in Sweden to get a decent education, even those who dont have money. But he liked the fact that when he is in America nobody asked him "where are you from." I hear that, brother!

Four encounters on my last day in Lesotho

Encounter 1

C-O-M-E-O-U-T!
C-O-M-E-O-U-T!

The chanting was coming from behind double-doors to my left. As young women wearing dress unusual for women in Lesotho streamed out of the room to go to lunch I stopped in my tracks to listen to a participant explain to an employee that it was a workshop on sexual orientation (actually, since they were speaking in Sesotho I heard "blah, blah, blah, sexual orientation.") In Lesotho! Fantastic!

Encounter 2

At breakfast I had heard some people speaking Swedish in a corner of the restaurant. Since they were white, and there were 2 black toddlers with them chattering to each other in a foreign language, I assemed they had adopted these children, especially since there are very few Swedes who have ever heard of Lesotho, let alone been there. I went over to talk to them and it turns out I was right. There were 2 families and they will live 200 km from each other so the children will have the opportunty to meet in the future. The couples said they were on their way home after 2 weeks of "adventures." Seeing as how they had never been to Africa, I can imagine the adventures they had dealing with the administration of adopting a child. Even getting a taxi in Africa for the unitiated can be an adventure!

Encounter 3

After breakfast I walked down to the golf course to play a round of golf. One of my colleagues had kindly arranged for me to borrow a set of ladies clubs for the day. In Africa you always have to have a caddie, whether you want one or not. Mine was a nice kid who knows that I don't like a lot of unsolicited swing lessons while on the course (on the driving range is another story). They call women of a certain age "Meh" (like the "Ma" of Ma Ramotswe of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency in Botswana). So he would politely try to encourage me or compliment me based on how well I was doing, ever mindful of his tip I am sure (unlike the unwise ballboy in Bangladesh - there you had to have a ballboy AND a caddie. God forbid the player or the caddie should have to look for a ball - who actually said to me: "Maam, you are very good on the green, but you are very bad on the fairway." He obviously wasn't thinking of his tip. But I digress). Anyway, at one point when I was having a bad streak but trying to look on the bright side, I said to my caddie: "Well, at least I'm not duffing the ball." To which he responded in all seriousness, "Oh Meh it makes me so happy you are not duffing the ball!" So there you go. I made one person happy yesterday!

Encounter 4

After an exhausting 18 holes on the brown, dry course, I stopped by an open-air crafts market. There is a cooperative of women living with AIDS that makes beautiful jewlery out of recycled glass. There was a Peace Corps volunteer there who is helping them with their finances and marketing. He agreed that Lesotho is a pretty cushy place to be stationed. Its certainly very different from my post in Chad over 20 years ago. It's such a beautiful country. It's surprising its not overrun with tourists.

2 miles high

Grand Lake, Colorado
Elevation 8,437 feet (about 3,000 meters)
Temperature: 75 F

The Thomsen Family Reunion 2010 has gathered my siblings, our kids, spouses (spice?) and parents from San Francisco, Las Vegas, Walla Walla, Chicago, Milwaukee and Stockholm. There are 23 of us hanging out in cabins about 2 miles from the entrance to the Rocky Mountain National Forest. We've spent the last few days swimming, horseback riding, hiking, and hanging out with family. This morning I played 18 holes of golf. The air at this altitude is crippling however. It doesn't matter how good shape one is in, walking up 10 steps has you bent over catching your breath.

We took a walk along the Colorado River and saw coyote spoor, bear scratches on a tree, and paw prints from coyote and moose. Unfortunately, half of the trees in the park are dead because of the Pine Beetle. They carry a fungus that destroys mature pines (mostly Ponderosa here) but leave the new saplings alone. So the hope is that when all of the mature trees die, the young ones will grow up in their place. The danger though is all of the millions of acres of deadwood that will pose an immense fire hazard.

We drove over the Continental Divide at about 12,000 feet. Rain that falls on the East side of the Divide eventually flows into the Atlantic and rain that falls on the West side flows into the Pacific. The scenery is incredibly beautiful above the treeline.

Oh, Oregon!

Portland, Oregon
Temperature: 86 F

We have had a fantastic time in Oregon. Here are some memories we will take home with us:

Cannon Beach and Haystack Rock: The sun is shining through the mist as we land on the beach at about noon. We throw off our clothes and run around in our swimsuits. We walk up and down the beach. I notice that I am the only individual over 10 years of age wearing a swimsuit. No, it was not a nudist beach, they all had clothes on! I was told that Oregonians don't wear swimsuits on the beach. That was weird. We had a wonderful time though. My family used to come to this beach on vacations so it brought back memories...

Multnomah Falls: One of the highest freefalling falls in the U.S. We climbed up to the top of Horsetail Falls and bathed in the water. The falls start from a mountain spring and not from melted snow as we thought. The view over the Columbia was awe-inspiring. One of the most beautiful places we have visited.

Portland: Powells Bookstore, the largest bookstore in the world! And tandem biking on the greenway along the Willamette River. Portland is the most bike-friendly city in the world!

Our next stop is Grand Lake, CO for a family reunion.

Oh, Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean!

Skamokawa, Washington (population 400)
Air temperature: 85 F.
Water temperature: 68 F.

We are staying with old friends from college (Polo Reunion!) on this bucolic farm in the Columbia River Basin. The Columbia River is the 4th largest river in the U.S. It starts in Canada and ends about 34 miles from here in the Pacific Ocean. Alcyon Farm is about 3 miles from the river situated in a beautiful valley. In the first 24 hours on the farm and kayaking on the river we saw the following wildlife:

Great Blue heron
Osprey
Double-crested Cormorant
Big Brown Bats
Barn Swallows
Violet Green Swallows
Tree Swallows
Purple Martins
Pacific Jumping Mouse
Various farm animals such as chickens, dog, cat, and sheep.

Kayaking on the river (Fredrika and I shared a kayak) was an amazing experience. There was apparently a seal in the water near us but I didn't see him.

Some history: From Skamokowa, Lewis and Clark looked over the Columbia (which they thought was the ocean) and said "Ocean in view, oh the joy!" But since they had 34 miles to go it was just wishful thinking.

Forty percent of wheat produced in the country is transported along the river and it produces the most hydroelectricity in the U.S. Unfortunately, the dams have decimated the salmon population.

Tahoe!

Lake Tahoe
Air temperature: 82 F.
Water temperature: 64 F.

The second deepest lake in the U.S. (Crater Lake in Oregon is the deepest). Beautifully deep, blue and clear, it is a joy to see and swim in. We visited friends who rent a cabin on the water. Kicking back on the deck, drinking a rum runner, one can easily think one was in heaven...and because of the altitude (over 6,000 feet, or 2,000 meters), the air feels about as thin as heaven. I swam out to some rocks just about 500 meters away and when I swam back the waves had picked up and I started feeling short of breath because of the altitude. Scary...

California Dreamin'

July 20, 2010
Santa Cruz, CA
75 F

Being back in the Bay Area is always a trip down memory lane. When I get on the 8-lane highways my brain goes into autopilot and I feel as comfortable as a farmer driving her combine. This time, though I was disappointed because my old favorite radio stations (classic rock of course), KSJO and KOME, were gone. What is happening to this world?

For the 4 days we were there (staying in Campbell) I just went around with a big grin on my face. I was so happy to be back where everyone says hi when they pass you on the street, and no one is afraid to look you in the eye even if they don't know you.

There are a lot of things I like about California but there are a few that are simply tragic: like the state of the real estate market (disastrous) and the proliferation of drugs for example. Crystal methamphetamine ("meth") has completely taken over and destroyed countless families. Santa Cruz was always a fairly nutty beach bum town when I was growing up but now meth is accountable for 30% of all crime in the county and 35% of all child custody cases. It really feels like the country is losing the war on drugs here.

Wisconsin Dells - Waterparkmania

Weather report at noon today: 82F (27C) and 69% humidity.

My daughter loves water and naturally begged me to take her to a waterpark. I hate waterparks, especially indoor ones, so naturally I decided if we were going to do it, we were going to do it right. We went to the Wisconsin Dells (about a 2 hour drive from Milwaukee) and spent 8 hours at Noah's Ark: "The LARGEST WATERPARK IN AMERICA!!!" I was afraid the name of the park would be prophetic and it would rain or I would end up wishing it would rain but it actually was really fun. Luckily it was hot because we ran around an amusement park in our swimsuits and bare feet all day. Most rides were totally fine for a middle-aged mom and a 9 year old child. On only one of them (a rubber saucer that they stick you in and then push you over what feels like a cliff onto a giant skateboard ramp that you slide down one side and up the other, hanging on for dear life) did my bloodcurling screams make a whole line of teenagers mock me in laughter. But it was okay! My favorite part was actually seeing a Sponge Bob Squarepants movie in "4-D" - in our bathing suits of course! I have an unexplainable love of Sponge Bob and my guffaws were surely the loudest of anyone in the theater.

My ex-colleague Dave in North Carolina asked me what one should do with a few days in Milwaukee in August. Well Dave, here are some suggestions of "typical" Milwaukeean things go do (mostly foody things since I guess you are working in the daytime):

1. Vist a Polish restaurant, like Polonez
2. Eat beer n brats at a pub in the third ward
3. Buy some brats to take home from Usinger's
4. Got to the Milwaukee Public Market downtown
5. Go to any restaurant or pub on a Friday for a Milwaukee Fish Fry (or The Comet Cafe on Farwell on any day of the week)
6. See a Brewer's game if they are in town
7. Take a walk/jog on the lake (you can also rent bikes/rollerblades/kites) there
8. Go to a festival (like Irishfest Aug 19-22)
9. Visit the Milwaukee Art Museum. If you don't like art, just go look at the building (Quadracci Pavillion), designed by Santiago Calatrava.
10. Go to a German restaurant, like Karl Ratzsch's Restaurant

If you have a couple of days off and have the kids with you then, of course, go to a waterpark!

Milwaukee: Home of beer 'n brats

Weather report: 75 F (23 C) and thundershowers

Fredrika and I are in the U.S. for a month now and I thought I would write down some impressions from the "motherland" for friends back in Sweden. Maybe some friends in the States might also find impressions from other parts of the country interesting too.

First day in Milwaukee yesterday. Started off by jogging down to the lake (Lake Michigan). Was a glorious morning. Felt like about 80 degrees at 6:30 am...There were a bunch of guys fishing. One had just pulled up a 3 ft (1 m.) Brown Trout. He got his picture taken with it and then threw it back in. The trout shook himself off and swam away. Said they had saved one that didn't make it to "throw in the smoker." I asked them if the fish from the lake were safe to eat and he said they were just as safe as the stuff in the stores. I was sceptical so I checked out the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources website (see fact sheet here). According to them, Lake Michigan has overly high levels of PCBs and therefore one (who is not pregnant, lactating or under 15) may eat 8 ounces of Brown Trout from the lake every 2 months. Needless to say, that information would not entice me to eat fish from Lake Michigan...

One of the things I miss about the States is the parades. Everyone loves a parade. The only parade that Fredrika has seen is when the former communist party, the socialists, and the trade unions march on May 1 in Sweden. Now this is quite interesting and colorful but, as Fredrika noticed, people watching are unnaturally quiet (if someone knows why, please let me know). Yesterday, we happened upon a local parade in a suburb of Milwaukee so I plopped Fredrika down on the curb and let her run into the street after the fistfuls of candy that were being thrown at the kids along the parade route. There were all the components a parade should have: tricycle-riding shriners, sweaty clowns, bagpiping Irishmen (???), local beauty queens, radio personalities, marching bands playing Summertime, dancing hot dogs, local motorcyle gang members on loud motorcycles, and (my favorite) the Schlitz bike pedal-driven beer bar. All the while, the audience cheered their approval of the people marching or driving by, often by first name since they are all from the same suburb. Now that is something she won't forget!

Leaving Kyrgyzstan

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan
Sunday, June 13, 2010
12:33 am local time

Well, we are not sure if we need to, but we are leaving Kyrgyzstan early. We feel terrible about what is happening here and wish we could help in some way but there is no way we are helping by being here.

This morning started like yesterday. We got up and took a long walk throught the green parks that are everywhere in town. We passed the Lady Freedom who is in front of the "White House" where the revolution started on April 7. And we passed Lenin, who was moved from this place to a tucked away corner next to the National Historical Museum after the Soviets left. Then we came home, ate breakfast, I went to a spa, and then we were picke up by our local counterpart who had offered to take us to the Osj market where one can buy cheap artisinal crafts. But on the way there a police car blocked the way saying that "they are throwing things in the market." So we went to a department store instead and then had lunch at a café. Everything seemed normal. Children playing, tourists milling, people spending money. We were advised by local friends not to go out at night so we bought a bunch of food and a bottle of Moldavian wine and bunkered down in our hotel room, chatting and occasionally checking a local news website in Russian that is updated every 15 minutes. Unfortuately, what we read wasn't good. The fighting has started in Jalalabad, a town neighboring Osj. Even though this is still the Southern part of the country, it just all started feeling very unstable.

We are sorry to leave our friends in this struggling democracy and wish them good luck!!!

Signing out from Bishkek...

There is NOT a civil war going on here

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan

June 12, 2010

12:22 am

Two months ago there was a revolution in Kyrgyzstan. The corrupt president fled the country and is likely hiding out in Belarus. The new interim president, Roza Otunbaeva, has created an interim government but there is no parliament yet. A referendum on the new constitution, which would reduce the power of the president, effectively making the country a parliamentary democracy, is scheduled for June 27. However, last night there were clashes between the Kyrgyz and Uzbek ethnic groups in the Southern town of Osj. Most people we talked to today were convinced that this was sponsored by the ex-president's thugs who are paying young, unemployed men to attack each other. Although this can hardly be called ethnic uprising, it has unfortunately caused 42 persons to die so far.

We were hoping that the Kyrgyz would all come to the same conclusion that this is an attempt at destabilization and ignore the provocations. However, tonight, after attending an amazing concert at the National Philharmonic Hall in memory of those who died in the April 7 revolution (classical concert sponsored by the U.S. and Swiss governments), as we were eating Chinese food
we heard gunshots. When we got home we discovered that there had been a couple of thousand young men milling around trying to get supportors to go down to Osj to defend their compatriots. The gunshots were blanks fired by the police to calm and disburse them. We think it worked because things are quiet now.

The crisis will test the interim president who was planning on holding the counry's first democratic parliamentary elections in September. We hope she will get the situation under control as an unstable situation may give Uzbekistan the excuse to move into the Ferghana Valley, which is where Osj is located, and which borders their country. If not, the Russians have offered to help...

We were supposed to be flying home on Wednesday but may re-evaluate the situation over the weekend.

Your correspondent in Bishkek...

Tajikistan - A struggling post-Soviet State

Tajikistan is a former Soviet State. This lives on in the form of language (Russian being one of the official languages), infrastructure (ah, that lovely Soviet architecture), and systems. But it clearly has its own Tajik identity, culture and poverty (unfortunately). Someone said today that when the Soviets came to Tajikistan the country went directly from being an agrarian society to a modern one, skipping the social and cultural changes that accompanied the industrialization phase in many other countries. So when the Soviets left, a lot of the reforms that had been made (in, for example, women's rights and education) were not prioritized, and the country has since begun to glide back into traditional values. Unfortunately, this has meant that girls are dropping out of school sooner than boys, a shift that goes against development achievements in neighboring countries and that will eventually have an effect on the health of their children and their own future economic empowerment.

Apparently, there is some nostalgia for the old Soviet system and its stability/predictability. Apparently, during the Soviet times people would go to the bakers and buy a half a loaf of bread in the morning because they knew there would be another half to buy freshly baked in the evening. Now they buy whole loaves at a time in the fear that they next time they go there won't be bread.

In essence, as one person told me today, the sovietization of Tajikistan really was a "europization" of the country, both in terms of social issues (like women's issues) but also infrastructure. Nowhere is this more clear apparently than on the border with Afghanistan where one sees power lines and roads up to the border and then nothing on the other side...

Back to the scene of the crime!

Starbucks at Istanbul airport

My friend and colleague, Susanna, and I are on our way back to Dushanbe. Back to the scene of the crime! In case you missed our adventures in Central Asia in 2008 (and I mean adventures. We were deported, she ended up in the hospital, and we almost got into a brawl with the hotel receptionist in Almaty over a crooked housekeeper's allegations), you can go back to 2008 on this blog and read it!

This time we are chronicalling (how DO you spell that word???) the Swedish Development Agency's work here for the last 14 years since they are leaving the region. Only going to Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan this time. I will be sorry to miss the Grand Bazaar in Tashkent (Uzbekistan).

I am content because I pulled a muscle in my back (doing sit-ups. How in the world???) and was in pain on the plane here. But we found one of those energy masseuses at the airport here and he fixed me up for the moment. Ah, the simple pleasures of life!

Are the Basotho doomed to die out?

One cannot be in Lesotho for more than a couple of days without the topic of HIV/AIDS coming up. The country has the dubious honor of having the 3rd highest HIV prevalence rate in the world (after Swaziland and Botswana). With one-quarter of the population infected with HIV, and 60 new infections EVERY DAY, the consequences are obviously enormous, and not just on the economy. I was told by an official in charge of HIV /AIDS here that at one point they were so overwhelmed they assumed that the whole population would eventually die of AIDS. There are almost 100,000 AIDS orphans in Lesotho (19% of all children in the country), so maybe they weren't far off.

Only 15 years ago the prevalence was "only" 5%. The reason for the high prevalence and its rapid spread are similar to other countries in the region: multiple sexual partners at the same time, low condom use, older men preying on younger women, and poverty. Low male circumcision rates are probably also a contributor.

The strange thing is that one doesn't hear the word HIV in society here. There are "testing centers" and people die young but noone talks about how. There are not many older people working in the Ministry of Health. I guess they are all dead. And yet people keep going on with their lives. They seem happy. They work and carry on. They don't talk about it much. It's spooky but a testament to human nature.

Lesotho- the Mountain Kingdom

I'm in the Kingdom of Lesotho. A tiny mountainous country completely encircled by South Africa (like Swaziland). The self-proclaimed "Switzerland of Africa." Population 1.8 million. Being in the Southern hemisphere it is winter here now and cold. The weirdest thing is seeing the maple (!) leaves turning color. I have never seen maple trees or leaves turning color in Africa, having spent 20 years living and traveling to countries with a much warmer climate. Apparently it gets down to minus 10 celsius in August. That doesn't feel like Africa! The explanation of course is that the country varies between 2,000 and 3,000 meters elevation. No wonder I feel like Bugs Bunny on ether when I try to jog here!

Lesotho gained independance from the British (it was a protectorate) in 1966. Before that it was called Basutoland. People here are very friendly and open, except to the Chinese, who have started running a lot of the garment factories that are popping up all over. Apparently, the Basotho (the word for people who live in Lesotho. And they speak Sesotho) resent the Chinese for buying up factories although they pay taxes like everyone else and provide jobs to the unemployed.

Addendum: I was later told that resentment stems from reportedly poor standards and wages for workers from the Chinese owners.

Leaving Anafora

I wrote these posts while in Anafora (December 26-January 2) but since I did not have/want internet access there, I am posting them all at once. To read in the right order, start at the bottom of this thread: "Journey to Anafora."

Today is my last day in Anafora and Egypt. I spent breakfast as I have several mornings now, in conversation with Bishop Thomas, asking him about all sorts of things. He has told me about what happens to the identities of monks when they enter monastaries by relating the story of when he was ordained. When Coptic priests are ordained they symbolically "die." The altar and the full funeral service is performed for them with a sheet over their body and face. The Bishop's description of the feeling of dying, letting go of everything and then being re-born with a new name was very moving. Because he felt it was so personal, he chose to be ordained in a remote church, and not in his home town where it usually occurs, in front of one's family. I can't imagine how that would feel to see one's son or husband die (Coptic priests can marry but they have to before they are ordained; Afterwards it is too late)!

After a moving goodbye with the staff and the Bishop (and his blessing), I went to Cairo with Katja and Anna-Clara and was given a feeling for the noise, pollution, traffic, and "controlled chaos" of one of the world's largest cities (17 million). We went to a beautiful store with handmade cotton and linen clothes in amazing colors. Later, after lunch, I was driven to the airport and had an uneventful (although delayed) trip home. I arrived home at 3 am to a white, chilly Stockholm.

Waking up, I can hardly believe I was in the desert 24 hours before, eating rice pudding and chatting with the Bishop. However, the memories will remain fresh for a long time, and the friendships I made will last forever I am sure.

Anafora is an amazing place for anyone who is interested in experiencing a community of faith, love and peace. I highly recommend it!

Pax

Anafora - January 1, 2010

The first day of the new year! I spent the day visiting two Egyptian sites with very different histories: the shiny, modern Carrefour mall (I had to get some money from the ATM) and the 4th century Coptic monastary of St. Bishoi in Wadi Natrun. I won't waste time writing about the mall since it looked like any mall in the U.S. (including chain stores like the Body Shop and Accessorize) except to say that there must be some people making money to Egypt to sustain a mall like that!

Wadi Natrun (which means 'salt valley' in Arabic), and its monastaries, is considered to be the cradle of all Christian monastic life. Sometime in the 4th century, Egyptian holy people (both men and women) began to wander out into the desert to be able to fully experience God. Some of them became stationary hermits, some wandered around the desert in solitude for their whole lives, and others began to live together in communities. At the height of the monastic period in Egypt, there were said to be 100,000 monks and nuns living in 1,000 monastaries. Today there are 4 left in Wadi Natrun (and a few more scattered around Egypt). The founder of monastic life is considered to be St Anthony but other big names are Macarius (see icon with his image, painted at Anafora) and Bishoi.

St Bishoi Monastary is the oldest and largest surviving monastary, and it is where the Coptic pope (H.G. Shenouda) comes to stay and celebrate mass every weekend. It is also where a Benedectine friend of the family, Father Mark Gruber, spent a year in the late 80's carrying out his doctoral research in anthropology. He later wrote a book about his experiences, called Journey Back to Eden. My Life and Times among the Desert Fathers (Orbis Books, 2002). A quote from that book shows why the desert was responsible for this monastic life: "The desert teaches us how helpless we are, how much we depend on one another for survival. It is with a complete sense of dependence, a complete sense of helplessness that we must approach God, and that we mush approach one another in terms of possessiveness or control." I think this idea might also explain why Anafora is the way it is.

We (a French retreatant and myself) got to St. Bishoi rather late in the day when all the tourists were gone and there was noone around to give us a tour. So we wandered kind of aimlessly around, appreciating the full relics of St. Bishoi himself and the architecture of the old part of the monastary (there is a huge new church - see picture at right below - and living quarters built in the 80's that is less interesting). As we were about to leave we were approached by a couple of laymen who asked if we would like to meet the Bishop of St. Bishoi. Of course, we jumped at the chance

and were ushered into a reception room where we met him, received his blessing, and also a blessed pen with the virgin Mary (made in China)! After this a very talkative monk (named Father Cedrac) gave us a personal tour of all of the interesting bits of the monastary that we had not seen because they were locked. So we were glad that we didn't just rush away, but were open to whatever would happen!

Anafora - December 31

Today is new year's eve and there is a lot of preparation going on at Anafora. This morning we planted seeds in a ceremony to symbolize hope for the new year. As we were standing there, we saw a shepard and a camel "walking" through the orange orchard towards us. Gradually, we saw that they were made of paper maché and being carried! They had been commissioned by the Bishop for the evening's ceremony but serendipitously arrived while we were planting!

After some inspiring hymns (see me at right singing a "duet" with Bishop Thomas), we got to work inscribing 200 bible verses in English and Arabic on to small pieces of paper. The Bishop had personally chosen them as messages of hope for the new year. Tonight each person will get one to take with them. Then Anna Clara (one of the Swedes living here) and I supervised a group of nuns and girls visiting from El Qussira in baking around 200 Lucia buns (Swedish advent buns with saffron; we had to add tumeric because we didn't have enough saffron, which added a somewhat strange taste to the buns...). It was a hilarious sight with all of us up to our elbows in yellow dough and flour flying everywhere. We decorated them with honey when they came out since they are fasting until Epiphany and cannot eat any animal products (we usually spread egg yolks on top to make them shiny).

In the evening there was lots of hymn singing instead of the normal 8 pm service and I was asked to read aloud the translated version of some of the psalms that they were singing in Coptic, which I felt honored to do. I left after a half hour or so of the chanting and came back at 10 pm for the mass, which the Bishop sped up to only 90 minutes instead of 2 hours in order for there to be time for a meditation before midnight. At 11.55 pm we all went forward and threw incense on the embers of a large pit placed in the front of the church, silently making our wishes for the new year, we each took a bible verse out of a basket, and everyone who wanted got a blessed loaf of bread (I saved mine since is has a cool stamp on it with Coptic letters). At midnight everyone lit a candle and wished each other Happy New Year! This was followed by a feast, since they had been fasting since 3 pm (Copts always fast for 9 hours before receiving communion). It was by far the most interesting and peaceful new year's eve I have ever spent!

Anafora - December 30

I learned my first Coptic words: nani gurhh ("good night") from Sister Martha. She is the one who paints all of the Iota crosses. She is 27 but looks about 12. We spend a lot of time communicating in sign language and in my hopeless Arabic. I spoke Chadian Arabic (a dialect about as understandable to other Arabic-speakers as pidgin English is to English speakers) when I lived in Chad from 1988-1990, and later studied Modern Standard Arabic (spoken on news programs like Al Jazeera) at the Univ of Michigan in the early 1990's but I have sadly forgotten almost everything. Anyway, I can pretend that my lack of understanding is due to the dialect spoken here at Anafora which is Upper Egyptian, and different from that spoken in Cairo.

There is a half-hour service at 8 every evening, which the bishop tries to make more accessible by giving some instructions in English, allowing the epistle reading to be given in whatever language is represented by the congregants that evening, and making time for some hymns to be sung in English. I have been doing the readings in English (others did them in Swedish, Norwegian, French and Arabic) and also leading some songs in English. Tonight I was surprised to hear a strong male voice in the back of the church joining in on Amazing Grace. It was Bishop Thomas, who had learned the song in his many travels!

I have learned from a visiting Copt that Anafora is not appreciated by all Copts because it breaks from tradition on several counts: the church is not traditionally built, women participate in the liturgy, and there is an attempt at ecumenism. I think that Bishop Thomas is a visionary who really cares about peace, in the same spirit as Brother Roger of Taizé.

Anafora - December 29

I didn't get much sleep last night since 4 or 5 mosquitos trapped inside my net dive-bombed me all night. Still, I was up at 6 am to attend the full morning mass which is 2 hours long and celebrated every morning here at Anafora, and is open to all. I had borrowed a copy of the liturgy in Swedish with helpful cartoon pictures to indicate where you are in the service. The service involves a lot of incense, which the book helpfully informed me symbolizes the wishes and prayers going up to God. For the most part, though (and I am sure I will be criticized for saying so), the service seemed the same as the Catholic and Anglican masses I have attended, just longer! The church (in the picture to the right and in a link on Facebook here) doesn't have pews, but luckily hand-loomed rugs that are ubiquitous at Anafora, and prayer stools. You take your shoes off before entering. Some wicker chairs are also available for those who cannot kneel. Hanging from the ceiling at the front of the church is an ostrich egg, which can be found in all Coptic churches. The egg represents new life. The eye in this church, which is not found in other Coptic churches, seemes to symbolize the eye of God watching over the egg. It's powerful imagery.

Unlike the all-night advent service, there wasn't too much standing in the mass. Actually, the periodic standing was welcome after kneeling on the rugs. The women generally sit on the right and the men on the left. Thus, it wasn't hard to notice that, apart from Father Ismael and the deacon, there were no men present. I assume they were already out working on the farm.

After the service I was presented with a piece of the blessed (but not consecrated) communion bread, a welcome treat after a 2-hour mass with no breakfast! At breakfast afterwards, Father Ismael (the priest-in-training), who is my age, asked if he could have his picture taken with me (see picture to the right). I thought this was funny - wasn't I the one who was the tourist? But it was pointed out to me, again, that Anafora is a meeting place for people from different worlds. Father Ismael is from a small town that does not see a lot of tourists. Being at Anafora is as big an experience from him as it is for me!

I was also pleasantly suprised to see many young Copts (in their 20's) who came to Anafora to "retreat" just like me (see picture of me and Hannah to the right)! In talking to them, I discovered a big difference between us retreatants, however: instead of waiting until they are exhausted and in need of a full relaxation experience like many of us Westerners, these young people come to retreats periodically to "top up" their spiritual batteries before they are running on empty. They have such a relaxed and open attitude to spirituality, it is positively inspiring.

Anafora - December 28

I don't write much about what I am doing here because I am not doing much! I mostly lie around and read, sleep and meditate (picture of my room and terrace here. Note the icon I purchased on the wall to the right). I feel like one of those patients in the old movies who go to the Alps and lie in the sun to recover from whatever is ailing them. This is okay because this is what Anafora is about, I have been told. You make it into whatever you want (except, I suppose, an amusement park or disco). This is why there are no brochures or web sites about the place. They don't want it put into a box and labeled. Anyway, it is too hard to find a label. It is a home for an order of sisters (Catholics would call them "apostolic religious sisters," but the Copts refer to them as "deaconesses"), a working farm, a guest house, a retreat center, the center of a vigorous parish, and much more. Most of all it is a community.

The sisters all started by coming from the Bishop's home parish of El-Qussia to help serve the visitors and some expressed the wish to stay and form a community of sisters. Today there are about 10 sisters and there are more young women who want to move here than there is room for. Apart from their religious fervour, some explanations for the girls' coming is the lack of gainful employment for them in their hometown and the absence of marriagable men due to many migrating for work to other Arab countries. The sisters cook for the community, paint icons that they sell, make organic soaps and jams (fig, hibiscus, bitter orange) and oils and sewn articles that they also sell to support the community. They also run the farm together with farmworkers who also live on the grounds with their families (about 2.5 km in diameter).

In addition to the sisters and guests, there is a parish priest named Father Cherubim (who looks like a baby angel with a beard!), and a priest-in-training, Father Ismael, who is doing his 40-day practical study before being sent to El-Qussia to serve his parish. This parish chose Father Ismael, who is an engineer by training, as a person who they wanted to be trained as a priest and serve them. The 40 day training should be done in a monastary but Anafora also "counts," again showing the special nature of this place in the Coptic church. A couple of Swedish women also live and work there, one of whom helped to found Anafora, and one of whom has recently converted to the Coptic Orthodox church.

Then there are the guests, who come from all over the world, some to seek peace and rest (like myself), and some to come for a night or two on their way between the pyramids and the monastaries of Wadi Natrum (which is just a few kilometers away).

Anafora - December 27

I slept well, only occasionally woken by the braying donkey - something I haven't heard since I lived in Africa in the early 90's.

At breakfast I met Bishop Thomas (picture to the right) - the founder of Anafora. He is around 50 years old and has a special twinkle in his eyes that have seen much suffering but also much joy. He's one of those people who seem to look straight into your soul. Over tea and a breakfast of rice pudding and homemade jams and bread, we chatted about the difference between the Egyptian and Ethiopian Coptic churches (primarily cultural and linguistic), and the origins of the written Coptic language, which I had seen on the gates when I arrived.

In pharaonic Egypt (from about 3,000 BC to 332 when Alexander the Great conquered Egypt), the written language was hieroglyphic but the people spoke Demotic. When the Greeks came they applied the Greek alphabet but there where 6 letters that did not exist in Greek so these were simply added. The Egyptian language, as represented by Coptic today, is the oldest surviving language in history.

The name 'Egypt' is derived from the word Copt. When the Arabs conquered in the 7th century BC they forced most Egyptians (who were all Christians at the time) to become Muslims, and Arabic became the lingua franca of the country, which is called Misr in Arabic. Today the Christian Copts are a minority (about 10%) and suffer considerable discrimination in Egypt because of their refusal to confirm to Islam (although the government claims to be tolerant, there are numerous examples of blatant discrimination which are never resolved equitably, creating periodically serious ethnic tensions). Very few families speak Coptic today but the language is very much alive in the church services - about half of the psalms I heard in the advent service were sung in Coptic (the rest in Arabic). At Anafora children are taught Coptic in "Sunday school."

Journey to Anafora

I wrote these posts while in Anafora (December 26-January 2) but since I did not have/want internet access there, I am posting them all at once.

I decided at the last minute (December 21) to go to Egypt to stay at a "Coptic retreat farm" for a week starting the day after Christmas. I took a chartered flight down, which I thought would be amusing at best and frightening at worst, since these flights are generally full of Swedes bound for merry-making at one of the beach resorts at Sharm el Sheikh or Hurghada. Indeed, this flight was too, but folks were sedated in the post-Christmas feeding frenzy (the people sitting in front of me only had a couple of gin and tonics and wine with lunch) and not everyone seemed bound for a tourist resort. There were others - such as the Arabic-speaking, Swedish passport-carrying gentlemen who sat next to me - who also seemed to be taking advantage of the cheap, direct flights to Cairo.

After 4.5 hours (plus one hour sitting on the plane in Stockholm while the wings were being de-iced), we landed in Cairo. I was picked up in a nice van and driven for a couple of hours, the first of which seemed to be getting out of Cairo through moonlit cityscapes of colonial buildings, laundry lines and minarets.

Eventually we turned off a smaller freeway into a gate with script above it saying "Anafora," but spelled in what looked like Greek letters. We drove around various domed mud and wattle buildings of different sizes. Finally we came down an alley lit with lamps covered in baskets and stopped in front of a building. We were greetted by some women who had dinner waiting for us (a Swedish guy was also picked up): homemade pasta soup, tahini (sesame paste served with every meal, I've discovered), fresh bread, feta cheese, olives and a lovely green mango paste. One of the Swedish residents - Katja - gave us the history of the place, showed me my room, and then took me to watch some of the advent service in the church that takes place every Saturday night before the Coptic Christmas, celebrated on January 6 (our Epiphany). They had a visiting group from Cairo so there were about 100 people standing, singing biblical psalms until 4 a.m. It was very dark, only lit by candles so it was difficult to notice anything about the church except that the outside form reminds one of a cave (below is a picture taken in the morning). Fell asleep to the sound of mosquitos buzzing outside my net and a donkey braying somewhere in the distance...