An Advent Reflection

Thought I might share this with all of you--kind of goes hand in hand with my latest newsletter on the STHS website. I'm off to Palestine tomorrow. Will surely write more when I return. A Merry Merry Christmas to all of you...

"The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined." Isaiah 9:2

Peace to you all in the this season of waiting, this season of darkness, this season of cold, this season of hustle and bustle, this season of sales, this season of good cheer, this season of the faces of anticipation. Yes, even in Egypt, it was on the 17th of November that I first observed the first Santa in the window of a shop nearby. I remember thinking what a blessing Thanksgiving really is for America--without this landmark Holiday, those visions of sugarplums lollipops would be dancing through our heads after the fourth of July. As each year the hype surrounding this beautiful holiday grows ever larger, we, ironically, learn more and more what it really means to wait until the 25th of December (or the night of the 24th for some of you cheaters:>).

And these days are trully filled with good cheer. I recall it to be an annually contagious feeling of great excitement as the the decorations don the walls, the staircase, the tables, the christmas tree sends it warm glow through the living room, and those beautiful familiar Christmas tunes that nobody sings like Amy Grant greet my ears. As I look back on it now, you were right mom to save those presents to the last week before Christmas despite our bitter protests.
These traditions clothe our darkness with a character of joy as our hope is fulfilled with the coming of the 25th every year. Yet, perhaps a strange question, but what if Christmas never arrived--what if the warmth of spring never eclipsed the cold of winter, what if the food you ordered last night at the Macaroni grill never came, what if tonight's stoplight never turned green? I've been thinking this advent of the character of our 'American' waiting in the context of a much different world here in Cairo, where true uncertainty of the future fosters a deeply rooted hope for a better life--a hope that literally yearns for the Christ child day in and day out in a world of utter darkness for many here. In this season of reflection I want to share with you a glimpse of this different character of waiting, to bring you with me through the backstreets and alleys of this ancient, chaotic, exciting, and often unforgiving city.

Hadayak Maadi is one of the densest areas of Cairo. Its your basic working class neighborhood consisting of ranks of old, cheap, and dilapidated 6-story apartment building. The streets are just wide enough to fit two single file lines of people next to the walls while a truck full of fresh vegetables from the countryside slowly makes it way to the market. He's driving slowly so you can watch your toes as he passes. No matter the time of day here the streets are full. To stand in one place and watch the world pass by can be dizzying--What are these people's names, where do all these people live, what do all these people do? But a swift knock from an elbow as someone tries to pass by reminds us that now is not the time for such ponderings. Off the flow of the main street is a dark and narrow and comparatively mellow alley where Dan and his family live. Up the unlit cement stairway to the fourth floor. Careful to watch your step. Darkness and spiraling cracked uneven stairs are not a good combination. But the door opens before we can even knock, and the light of a well-lit room spills into the corridor. It illumines little John who, just as any 6-year old in anticipation, heard the steps of expected strangers on the stairs and couldn't resist but see who was coming. Not far behind is big sister Marium, who, like any 9-year old big sister, is checking to see what mischief John is up to now. As she peeks around the door, a big smile envelops her face as the prospect of visitors transforms an ordinary Tuesday night in Cairo. Momma Tina yells something in the Nu'er language from the kitchen, probably something like "let them in the door already!" After managing to get inside with John latched on your leg, its all warm greetings for the next five minutes. Meet John's partner in crime, 5 year-old Marcos, and his mother Rania. Sleeping soundly in Momma Tina's arms is the precious little Akok, only 18 months old. And finally, meet Dan, the man of the household. Dan is the brother of Momma Tina's husband, who 17 months ago suddenly and mysteriously disappeared in Khartoum. Having been politically involved and fighting for change in the government, it is no secret that he was taken by sudan's internal security forces. Today we can only pray and hope that he is alive somewhere in a prison in Sudan. And so Dan took his brother's family and fled to Egypt for their safety, as it is well known that after one arrest, the family of the prisoner will be next. It was here that they met Rania and her son Marcos who had also fled sudan but were homeless on the streets of Cairo. Together, the seven of them live in this 2 bedroom apartment.

Compared to most Sudanese here, Dan and is his family are quite blessed as a year ago Dan landed a teaching job at St. Andrews where he earns close to 500 Egyptian pounds per month (roughly $90). Together with money from the cleaning job that Rania has recently found, they have enough to afford an aparment to themselves, albeit a meager living here. As the Egyptian government as made work illegal for Sudanese refugees, the only real jobs for the Sudanese are the employment opportunities the churches provide here. Considering that there are only really 4 churches with solid refugee ministry programs employing maybe 200 Sudanese at most, and considering that with perhaps as many as 75,000 Sudanese in Egypt, Dan is truly blessed monetarily in Egypt. And, in addition, as a teacher Dan can send the children to school at St. Andrews where they receive an American-style education in English. Otherwise, since Sudanese children are forbidden to attend Egyptian schools, the education would be up to the parent in the home.

But despite all this, Dan's family is in transit, waiting here in Cairo to move to another country where their will be real opportunity for the children when they grow, where the family doesn't have to live from pay-check to paycheck, where as Africans they can feel safe from physical attacks on the street, where there is available health care and baby formula for an infant. Sure, life is an improvement from Khartoum where at any time they could have been abducted, imprisoned, and perhaps even killed, but by no means is life good for Dan and his family in Cairo. And so I have brought with me my Camera today. The children love it and are entranced by images of themselves. Unsure of what to do in front of the camera, it is the flash that brings the smiles and giggles. This doesn't help the photographer's vision, but we are not photographers today. Dan is applying through the 2007 US Diversity Lottery program for immigrant visas to the United States. And the most recent change in the application is the necessity of a digital pictures of all applicants. A bit difficult for many applicants and just another hoop set up by the western governments for refugees to jump through.
For the United Nations Headquarters for the Committee on Refugees (UNHCR) in Cairo has recently ceased all operations sending refugees from Cairo to the west. So people like Dan are scrambling for other ways of getting to the west, such as the Diversity lottery, which randomly grants 50,000 immigrant visas to an open pool of applicants from around the world. "Of course its a long shot," says Dan as I take a picture straight on so 'both ears can be seen' against a 'neutral' background. "But it is better to die trying..." It is a sober reminder during this merry time of the plight of these people.

Despite the tight budget, Momma Tina has prepared a real feast for us tonight. A little taste of Sudan she says as we share the meal together. The children eye the table with delight as meat is a rare and special occasion. It is a humbling experience to come here during advent where there is no Christmas tree, where baby formula and warm clothes are the presents, where Christmastime is not in the air. It is truly a world of darkness here, where December 25th will come and go like any other day. But as we pray around the table, it is clear that Dan and his family hold fast to the promise: "Father, we thank you for this food and for all that you have given us... Continue to guide us, protect, and take us to the promised land..." May we all hold fast to the promise, living through the darkness in the spirit of Christ this advent.