Thanksgiving in Oued M'zab

To see my photo album of Oued M'zab CLICK HERE.

After my last class on Tuesday, I went home and rewarded myself by cooking up some lamb chops and enjoying them with some Coteaux de Tlemcen. I jammed out on the guitar and then when the water finally came on, I washed a bunch of clothes, took a bath and then the idea occurred to me…HIT THE ROAD!

Hitting the road last year in Yemen always reinvigorated my spirit and so that was just what the doctor ordered…I leafed through the guidebook and decided on Ghardaia.

The journey is the destination…

Left Algiers, felt my soul needed something different…so after glancing at the guidebook, I picked one of the highlights which seemed doable…the M’zab Valley.

I went to the gare routiere, bus station, Wednesday am and got a 1-way ticket to Ghardaia leaving at 11am. The Mzab Valley consists of a oued or valley in the Sahara Desert with several small Mozabite towns. The Mozabites are Ibadis- a unique sect of Islam that follows its own traditions.

To get there I went along the first leg of the Trans-Saharan highway and took in the fascinating metamorphosis of geographical landscapes that one sees along the way.

From Algiers, the road ascends into pine covered mountains, with majestic vistas that bear resemblance to what one might find in Austria, Switzerland, Colorado, etc. Just past Blida and into Charea, the road meanders over bridges and through tunnels following a path that parallels and criss-crosses train tracks.

This continues for some time up to and just after Medea. There, the mountains give way to rolling hills interspersed with meticulously cultivated vineyards and fruit orchards.

I remember dozing a while and then waking up to an abrupt change in ecosystem…not quite flatter than a pancake but approaching that topographical description. There was still some brush which later gave way to dry land. This is the green fence or barrier that is maintained to fight l’ensablement…or desertification from progressing much farther north. These tree groves are quite impressive, in that they seem to have been cared for some time and can be quite big. They really do stand out against the greater landscape of dry barren land.

Much of the Sahara, contrary to the romantic windswept sand dune clichés one sees in movies, is actually rock believe it or not. I lived in a rocky part of it in Atar, Mauritania when serving in the Peace Corps. I tried taking pictures, but my window had some scratchings and stains that made it blurry…as if my contact lenses were scratched. The bus itself was rather comfortable and a real deal at 640 Algerian Dinars = $10 USD for this 8 hour trip.

We stopped at different points along the way to exchange riders…and paused to eat a couple of times. After the ½ way mark the TV went on and they showed a bunch of Algerian TV comedy shows and then those wacky trick hidden camera clips. You know the ones where they play jokes on people i.e. a man walking on the street pretends to sneeze on pedestrians in front of him while an assistant sprays water on the back of their neck and then the sneezer tries to wipe it clean. Lol

Btw, no restrooms on board.

Once, I got to Ghardaia, I checked into my hotel, grabbed some rotisserie chicken and then checked my email to find out, that it was Thanksgiving Eve and I'd forgotten or mistakenly thought that next week was the holiday. Oh well, another Thanksgiving in the Sahara!

The next day I got up super early, beating the sunrise to snap photos from Malika, the town with superb views of the Oued M'zab and Ghardaia. Before entering the city, I met a teenage Mozabite boy who was more than delighted to practice his English and to show me his hometown. SidiAissa, took me throught the old part of the city and then showed me the highlight of the town, the tomb of a holy man which is his namesake. We took pics there and then he had to go off to school. I remained there waiting for the dramatic sunrise.

After that, I went on to the oldest of the Mozabite towns in the Oued, El Atteuf. There, I needed to hire a guide at 200 Dinars ($3.25) and he showed and explained to me much of the Mozabite traditions and architecture. They are very adamant about tourist respecting their culture, so no photos are allowed of the local people. Also, in the old parts of the cities, no smoking is allowed whatsoever. Of course, one must be properly attired, that is legs and arms should be covered, etc.

The towns were built in a certain way with ramparts and towers to protect against attack. It's amazing, how these people fled from the north to avoid the rule of other muslims that did not adhere to their beliefs. One of their major convictions is that the caliph or leader of the Islamic faith, need not be a blood descendant of the Prophet Mohammed, but rather a strong leader capable of doing so. For this, there was tension and conflict in the past with other powers that came and ruled in Algeria. And therefore, as a result, the Mozabites came to this difficult land, and by ingenuity and hard work, built the cities and palmeries that exist up until today. Impressive and ancient, they have garnered the classification of UNESCO World Heritage Site.



My guide also showed me the unique Mosque Sidi Ibrahim, which was the inspiration for Le Corbusier's Eglise de Ronchamp. It's a simple white mosque that has no straight edges and does have a similar raw white beauty that one sees in Corbusier's famous church.

Speaking of the church, I also visited some of the Church's representatives who are famous for their work in the Sahara, Les Peres Blancs. Peres Blancs, or White Fathers, have been doing good work in the Sahara for years, and I was interested in visiting them to hear about their mission in of all places Oued M'zab, this enclave of Ibadi Islam. While working in Mauritania, I got to know some priests and nuns that worked on social and health programs in that Islamic country, so I wanted to see what these White Fathers were up to here.

They have two libraries. One is a general library and the 2nd is one devoted to the Sahara. They also offer language classes in French and German. I met Kryztof a Polish White Father who is teaching German there. I also met a White Sister from the Congo, Anastazie. I did not know there were White Sisters, but they are there too to do work with the women. This is important, since men and women's domains are largely segregated by Mozabite custom and faith. They were very nice and introduced me to some of the young students there that are learning English.

For my Thanksgiving Dinner, I had a nice hunk of roasted lamb. The next day I headed back to Algiers at 6am. :)

Le Weekend a Alger...

(I added some pics to my Djazair: Miscellaneous album, so click here...)

I have been getting around and becoming more familiar…maybe too familiar with the city…lol. I am starting to run into friends/students/workmates here and there. But I am really enjoying Algiers.

I did a lot this Wednesday…I went to a presentation on attending college in the US at the Bouzareah campus. I encouraged the Algerian students to apply by mentioning the example of Nuha, my former Yemeni student, who is now attending a SUNY (State University of New York) school in Cobleskill with the help of a scholarship.

In the pm I headed to the Hamma, or National Library, to visit the new friends at the American Corner, Radia, Karima and Souad. I went and had coffee with Radia and Souad and showed them the Sombrilla Magazine of UTSA. They were delighted to practice their English and hear about university life in the US.

On Thursday, I went back through Belcourt past the Hamma to check out the Musee des Beaux Arts and found a great collection of art…much of it French, and some very interesting modern Algerian works. There are impressionist paintings, for example, Monet, Pisarro, Renoir, Degas, etc. and a couple of wings housing the work of Orientalists like Delacroix. The Orientalist work is a fascinating romantic vision of the area.

The outstanding collection of paintings are well complemented by sculptures, several done by Rodin. The building itself dates from the 1930s and has several stages/terraces that face directly on to a main promenade of the Jardin d’Essai. At one time, to enter the Musee des Beaux-Arts, one walked through that grand walkway up to the monumental edifice.

The terraces have several bronze sculptures and provide a nice place to have a cup of java and take in the wonderful vistas of Algiers. I thoroughly enjoyed the visit. Although, one cannot take pictures inside, there are several reasonably priced books and postcards available inside.

After my visit, I walked into a shishkabob restaurant and had some mini-skewers of merguez, kidney, and meat. It was delicious and I must say the traditional bread that accompanied it was excellent. Pas mal, hein? (Not bad, eh?)

On Friday, I headed out into the city, looking for more good foo and found Matam Samarkand and had some kofte (meat balls) with garbanzo beans, sauce and white lubia (beans). Mmmmmmm.

After that, I wandered about taking pictures and talking to whoever while the faithful worshipped at the mosque. After prayer, I hung out at Port Said watching guys in a cafe play dominoes and Tarot. Later, I stumbled upon the National Theatre and found out there would later be a traditional dance ballet..so I waited around for that. In general, it was refreshing to see modern dance melanged with some traditional movements. Near the end, they did a number with rhythmic pounding that was related to the big “mortar and pestle” “pile” that one sees in Africa. It brought back memories of the RIM and of my times with the people there…not only for that kitchen utensil, but also for the rhythms. It moved me to tears I have to say and I couldn’t really pinpoint why.

Is it the work that women do?…the rhythms of them, of Africa, the trance, the catharsis one experiences in pounding out those beats….something..

Blida...in search of classic Algeria

To see my Blida photo album, click here.

I decided to make a day trip and at first didn’t know where exactly to go. Then I remembered Dr. Amara recommended that I get to know the real Algeria or how did she put it…the Algeria that remains true or closer to what Algiers used to be like. She recommended two places that are close, easy to get to and perfect for transporting one to the Algeria of nostalgiac longings: Chrea & Blida. I opted for Blida without any preconceived notions. Dr. Amara is a senior staff member at Bouzareah and from what I can tell, she has a well developed sense of taste for most matters.

I had no problem catching a bus for 50 dinars (=80 cents), to Blida. The sun was out and the skies were clear so I was excited to snap some photos. The bus window was scratched, faded and fixed, so I would have to wait until getting off to really put the Canon SD850 to work.

Along the way, I saw orange orchards, other fruit trees (I think they were Chinese plums- at least they looked like nyanches) and well several nurseries. . Like on my Tipaza trip, I saw a group of gear heads getting ready to do some Tour de France training. The landscape is very green, fertile, and alive with all sorts of vegetation like pine trees, and eucalyptus trees for example, sprinkled throughout the hills that would indeed make for a pleasant bicycling workout.

Once in Blida, the gare routiere/shared taxi garage made me smile. For some reason, I expected a small town, but Blida, is in fact a decent sized city and the garage has enough hubbub to entertain one for hours. This is true also because there is a big market next to it. I went through the market and well it was enjoyable navigating in what seemed like river rapids of humans going to and fro. Occasionally a car drove through and pedestrians had to duck into different stalls. One sees everything…slippers with leopard prints, cauliflowers, traditional male/female robes, Korans, tangerines, potatoes with fresh dirt still on ‘em, crates of grapes, perfumes, leather shoes, carpets, lingerie, table cloths, sheets, sundries, cow heads, tea sets et cetera et cetera.

Souks, bazaars, tianguis…whatever you call them, open air markets where there are no aisle numbers or clean up crews or customer service departments are kind of fun believe it or not.

The circus was in town too. I had a cup of café au lait with pain au chocolat and my homeland came up. Its easier to just say I’m from Mexico, so that’s my standard response and it usually garners enthusiasm, delight, references to the World Cups that were held there, the telenovelas which are so popular here, and Pancho Villa/Zapata etc. They never seem to mention quesadillas de chapulines, but I’m still hopeful for that day. The barista, (I’m using that term which might be in fact copyrighted by that big coffee shop chain), immediately asked if I was part of the circus. Well, I guess I do have a clownish look to me, and admittedly, I think it might be kind of fun to do that for awhile. (Note to self: See the Occupational Outlook Handbook 2007 re: circus professional.)

The Circus Florelicto or Floreligio or Figliomio…is from Italy and it’s touring Algeria, but unfortunately, the first show was scheduled for 3pm and that was a little too late for me. I did manage to get a nice picture of the tent though.

I walked on towards “Centre Ville” & found the city to be kind of laid back compared to hustle-and-bustle Algiers. It has a French colonial feel to it and the mountains on one side give it a nice background. Charea is up there somewhere, so that’s for next week. I stumbled into a labyrinthine neighborhood that was fun to walk around. I then felt the urge to take a bath! My apartment doesn’t always have running water. Usually, from the a.m. to around 6pm, H2O is available. Well, yesterday, I got home after 6pm and didn’t have a chance to shower and then this morning I bolted before really considering how good it would do me. Because this is an issue for many folks, or and also because of the historical use of bathhouses and the influence of Romans, Turks, and Arabs here, one can find hammams and/or douches (showers) pretty easily. So I found a hammam close to a mosque in this ‘old’ medina neighborhood of Blida, but was abruptly yelled at for trying to go in. See, some hammams have certain hours or days for women only and others for men only. I didn’t see a sign, so I proceeded to move the curtain to walk into the reception area, but some men seated along the nearby sidewalk, immediately, said HEY!

No big deal, I understood immediately my faux pas, and apologized profusely and asked them to indicate where I could find one open to men at that hour. So just another 100m on down the street I hit the showers. They gave me all the necessary items: plastic sandals, soap, shampoo and a towel. The hot water felt good and I felt very refreshed once I walked out. It cost 50 dinars. (80-85 cents).

Now that I was feeling all crisp and clean, I snapped some more images and then found a street market area busy with all kinds of traffic. At the very end, I could see some sort of elegant structure that seemed to be at the center of a square. I arrived there to find a very nice white Arab-style gazebo set in a pool. Kids were frolicking about, and around the square were shaded café seating and restaurants. Diagonally off one of the streets, a large mosque dominated and I headed over there to get some pictures.

I thought to myself, my god, how many mosques have I seen and churches for that matter. And now, I am at a loss because I can describe how they look, but I’m not so sharp when it comes to saying who built them, and when and how. Anyways, just deficiencies and gaps in my learning that I’ll have to review and work on. Am I the only one that thinks these things? Is it a bit neurotic or needless to fret over knowing such minutiae?

OK, enough of the introspection.

I found lunch at a restaurant there, not really noteworthy, just steak and potatoes. Satisfying though. After that, I had tea with mint on the square and just relaxed.
The prayer call went out and several men got up to go, but not everybody. I saw some boys playing in the square and some scarved young ladies taking pictures of each other in front of the gazebo. I started thinking about how the kids were all playing and what a good time that is and that Orphee movie quote Cocteau said something about Youth. I cant recall if it was he saw his own Youth dead or something along that line. Whatever it was, it was morbid, sad, surreal and weird.

Anyways, I just thought normal adult thoughts on the innocent days of being a kid. The silly games one plays, the infinite ways kids are easily entertained and easily entertain themselves, esp. w/regard to group dynamics. So while I’m thinking this, I hear a kid making noises like a gorilla or monkey or something. I chuckled to myself, “There’s a kid having some fun.” The noises continued and were getting louder and closer. Then across the plaza on the other side of the elegant and charming gazebo, I saw the kid. Except this was no kid. This was the mejnun.

Mejnun is Arabic for “crazy”, and I recall in Mauritania, how they kind of let the insane or mentally challenged just run loose in towns and everybody just humors them and likes them and treats them nice. They are like everybody’s crazy cousin, literally crazy. So this guy had that air about him…must have been in his late teens or early 20s and I saw 2 small boys following him, chatting with him or taunting him, I’m not really sure. Perhaps they were toying or playing along with him, who knows.

He went on to play like the kids I had seen around there before, climbing on the rails of the gazebo, going back and forth and around w/o a clear plan and invariably spicing his routine up with the occasional monkey sounds again. It was funny to recall the old crazy bald guy who frequented the taxi garage in Atar, Mauritania. Everybody loved him there and sometimes he showed up with parts of chain and cuff hooked to his ankle. They would give him money and food and also let him charge customers as a kind of “chief” or “enforcer”. It was street comedy in its purest form. Of course, when you are in the Sahara and you have to wait for other passengers to show up before the car can go to its destination, it’s a nice entertainment to help you while away the time.

However, at the Blida gazebo square, not many paid attention, other than the two kids. Things turned especially bizarre right after I got up to leave and walk through the square. As I got near the gazebo, I noticed that the Mejnun was now in the water and completely naked. Mind you this is 1pm on Thursday, the weekend. I looked aghast and around to see if anybody did anything. Some did notice, but did nothing. One old man told the kids to get away from the guy. Maybe somebody did say something, because after a couple more minutes, he went up into the gazebo, naked, and found his clothes and started to put them on. Vraiment bizarre. Life is just full of surprises!

I came across a cyber café and stopped to check out my email. That’s when I heard how my Uncle Julio had just passed away. I felt a deep sadness. He was actually my mother's uncle and he was always kind and funny with me and everybody. I will miss him dearly..

I’m sleepy now, hasta manyana.

Good morning! I woke up and saw an amazing dawn light along the horizon and took some photos and maybe I’ll try painting it later.

I got up and started washing my sheets etc. and then made some fresh hot salsa…the tomatoes were going bad so I wanted to use them up. The peppers I used are these long green things…kind of remind me of “Hatch” New Mexico peppers. They are pretty common around here. Made papas con huevos.

I’m going to church today…Madame Afrique. Two reasons…one of course to check it out and another…for mi tio Julio.

So, it was odd to feel remorse, melancholy and then go back on to the streets of a city of strangers. I needed something sweet and found a chocolate bar with hazelnut cream. I lost myself taking more pictures and then caught the bus back to the garage which now was filled with people waiting for buses. Transport, the quintessential dilemma of man. How do we get there? How do we efficiently move people and products. In Algeria, transport is a challenge. Luckily I got a seat on a bus bound for the Tafoura garage in Algiers. The aisle gets taken up by fold out chairs and I got one of these in the row just before the very back. The man on my right started talking on the phone in English…but a different English. Some kind of African English, but I couldn’t place it. It seemed Ghanaian but I wasn’t sure. On my left was an Algerian woman and next to her seated near the window was another black African who must have noticed that my listening to the English phone conversation, because he asked me if I spoke English.

Tee was a refugee from Liberia and he immediately asked for my phone number which I found funny, odd and too personal. In the end, I said, why not? What would Jesus do? Anyways, he was nice, curious, persuasive and persistent about making small talk and becoming instant friends. Very different from the average Algerian I meet in public, so this is why I felt awkward. I’m also not used to speaking English aloud in public. Funny, I’m an English teacher and want to promote its use, but often while abroad I minimize my use of English in public, mainly to avoid what Obi Wan Kenobi called, “imperial entanglements.” That’s euphemism.

The ride home was nice enough, though traffic came to a standstill twice. There was also a near-miss on the highway. The driver abruptly applied the brakes and then swerved to the left, and then several cars just to the right and just in back of us collided. Yikes! The collisions didn’t sound violent enough to kill, but we didn’t slow down or stop to see. Santa Maria Madre de Dios ruega por nosotros. I read recently in the news that according to statistics, while abroad, more Americans get injured/die from auto-related accidents than from any other danger. This is why I generally don’t drive abroad. I’ll leave it to the local experts.


Later that night….pit bulls

I invited los amigos Argelinos to a “Algerian Idol” taping that I had an invite for. Nobody took me up on it, so I guess that was a foreboding sign of things to come. Ahlan wa Chabab was the name of the show to be videotaped live from La Coupole near Bouzareah. After crowded bus rides and repeatedly asking whoever I came across, I found the venue. Along the road and at the door, young boys aged anywhere from 14-25 seemed to be the only ones going. Hmm. Is this my crowd? Lol.

At the door there were a lot more and right as I walked up, I heard vicious dog growls and barks and then saw everybody panic and run towards me. Now, I normally enjoy all the thrills and chills of crowd neuroses and I really did enjoy running with the bulls in Tlacotalpan, Veracruz in 2006, but being the object of a pit bull's frustration is not my cup of tea at all. I had the official invitation, which a colleague at the Fac. Centrale had given to me and showed it to the security guards, but they were too busy yelling at all the youths crowding the gates. At times they went after the youths trying to kick or hit whoever was near them and I was afraid they would hit me, so I ran away. I never made it in, and on several more occasions, the crowd of boys ran a la Pamplona. On one such occasion I slid down a hill and had to break my fall by grabbing a laurel branch. Whew. Enough of that I said.

It took me a good hour to get home and I opted for a pizza and some Algerian vino, Chateau Tellagh Medea (1998), and working on these blog entries. Who comes up with this shtuff?

Belcourt & Makam Echahid

To see recent photos of everyday Algiers, Belcourt and the Makam Echahid, click here.

After completing my first watercolor, I went to the Translation Department to look into perhaps starting my class earlier. The students want to finish class before 5pm so they can get home. They say it’s harder to get a bus later in the day. I wonder why the buses don’t run later much. Anyways, there’s no classroom available at 1pm so, we’ll have to just make do.

I visited Ali in the Copy room and we chatted for awhile. I mentioned to him that I was headed to the Belcourt neighborhood and that I wanted to see the Museum of Fine Arts and the Museum of the Moujahid (Revolution). He offered to show me the Anatomy Collection on campus. So I took him up on it. It was amazing to see the displays of real skeletons and various body parts in formaldehyde. There are a lot of cross sections of skulls and views of brains and mouths and organs, twins and fetuses. It is fascinating yet at the same time not for the faint of heart. Another amazing thing there is a stretched out human skin. Belonging to a pirate, the skin has a lot of tattoos of women and dragons and various images. Ali had mentioned there was a peau to see there, but I had not expected such illustrations on the skin. They also showed me rooms where cadavers are dissected for study by the medical students.

One student was there, a young lady clad in a dark brown abaya robe. Those robes kind of look "nun"-ish to me. She was studying a huge model of the heart and generously gave me an explanation in French of the different parts and functions of the heart.

I had also mentioned to Ali that I wanted to visit the Jardin d’Essai which is a big amazing botanical garden in Algiers. He said that they had a unique tree of which only 70 remain worldwide. Not sure of the name at all, but they also have one of these at the Fac. Centrale and Ali showed it to me. As you can see it is quite a different tree.

Another cool thing about touring campus with Ali, is that he knows all of the special back routes and hidden stairways etc. After that, I stopped by La Grande Poste to mail more postcards. I feel “Grande” whenever I slip postcards in the slot there.

I bumped into some Bouzareah students in the area near La Grande Poste. It’s nice to see familiar faces and feel more comfortable. They were glad to see me too.

I then hopped a shared taxi to the neighborhood where Albert Camus grew up, Belcourt. Today, I’m told it’s “Shaabi”..which is Arabic for “popular”. This is popular in the sense of everyday people, not as in something popular to do. I liked it a lot and indiscreetly snapped some candid shots which produced some interesting images.

After walking through a crowded street market, I snacked on a M’hadjeb. A M’hadjeb is a lightly fried bread turnover that is filled with a spicy tomato sauce. The dough is oily enough and laid out in a squared off form, then tomato sauce is spooned into the center and the corners are covered and squared off again then put on the pan grill. I also stopped at another place for some mini-skewers of liver and meat. Tasty eats here and there.

I was looking for the Teleferique, a kind of bonde or cablecar skyride that goes up from Belcourt to the Makam Echahid, or Monument to the Martyrs. I found one, but it was under repair. They said another one was further up ahead so I kept walking.

I came to a huge modern building with a gated entrance lined with many country flags. I asked somebody, and they said it was the Homma., or National Library. This I wanted to see. The American Corners, I had been told, was located there. So, I went in and left my ID at the door. The interior is modern, clean and befitting of a national library. On the ground level I also found a nice exhibit of paintings called “Crossed Glances”. It’s a collection of works that were inspired by photos, so they have mounted the photos right next to the resultant pieces.

Upstairs on the 2nd floor, I found the entrance and asked for the American Corners. The attendant happily escorted me there. And sure enough it was in one corner of the building, a big one though. There were posters up with information on different places and faiths in America, some computers, a wall of magazines and a special large desk with the US and the Algerian flags up.

She presented me to Radia, who works the American Corners there. At the American Corners they provide information about America and about studying in America to the public. Radia and I talked about our programs. I intend to do some outreach there through, discussions, presentations etc. This is part of my work too.

I was pleasantly surprised to find one of my Fac. Centrale Students there. Asia, that’s her name, pronounced, “AHS-ya”.

Radia was very nice and hospitable and offered to give me the grand tour of the library. They have several special collections, computer labs, media, journals, and even a separate part for young children and adolescents. Radia studies English there too. Language classes are offered there, including English, Berber and Chinese! The Jardin d’Essai is right behind the National Library and is quite impressive. Currently it is not open, but from one of the 2nd floor windows you can see part of it. I really enjoyed my visit to the National Library and look forward to going there again and again.

After that, I went on to find this other funicular. From the street level the Canadian-built Monument to the Martyrs is straight up. And directly below it is the Musee des Beaux-Arts. It was already 3:30pm and I decided to save that one for another day. I found the funicular and rode it up. It’s a nice ride for 20 dinars and at the top there are some good views of the Jardin d’Essai, a nearby stadium, and the beaches along the western side of Algiers.

Atop one of the highest points, the enormous Makam Echahid can be seen from all over Algiers. Up close, this city landmark dominates. Just under it, is the Museum of the Moudjahid, which chronicles Algeria’s struggle against colonialism, beginning when the French arrived in 1830. Again no picture taking allowed, but there is plenty to see inside.

Guns, grenades, paintings, old maps and Napoleon-era war plans, right on up to the realia from the 1950s and 60s. The French ruled the colony for more than a century and exploited labor and resources. At one time they had an annual wine production of several hundred thousand barrels which were sent to “l’Hexagone”.

There are plenty of firearms, explosive shells, and photos that are testaments to this violent era. One gruesome area exhibits how torture was carried out and shows how napalm was used extensively. Interestingly, the role of women in the struggle also gets some attention too. One surprise there, was seeing a pair of pistols that Pres. Abe Lincoln gave to Algeria for Emir AbdelKader’s thwarting of Damascus. ??? Gotta go back and reread that history lesson.

After getting some more pictures, I headed homewards. I passed by the Fac. Centrale and saw Ali from the copy shop of all people working the gate. I guess he has 2 jobs there. He invited me to have a drink at a café and then we went back to the gate where he was working and just talked about Algeria and Algiers.

I went home hoping to figure out my TV for some Champions League action, but I cant figure it out still. Too bad, so sad. I still have my guitar. Alhumdillilah! (Gracias a Dios!)

Acuarela d'Al-Jazair

Got up and was inspired to paint. Yes, the views, the colors, the scenes here have given me the inspiration to paint. I’ve studied drawing before, but hardly ever practice. The scenes here though like I say, have inspired me to give it a try. And I’ve decided to try water colors.

I got up and got some water. My first drawing/ water color acuarelle, was inspired by the scene from my balcony overlooking the bay/port. I know, I know. It looks nothing like this, but it felt nice to just play with the gouache colors. Its not expensive to start…something about my view and the images makes me want to do it, but I’m just starting out.

Impressions after 3 weeks

The Algerians I have met have some strong opinions about their country. Granted my time has been pretty much restricted to the capital and more or less related to the academic community, so this may explain the ideas I have heard Algerians express to me.

Since arriving, various locals have said “Be careful!” in one way or another. Algiers is a big city and muggings happen with some regularity. One lady actually told me not to use my cell phone on the street. I think that is being a bit overprecautious, but she means well. When I mention my visit to the Casbah, many say that is a no-no and many who have lived here all of their life, have said they have not ventured-nor intend to- into that notoriously dangerous neighborhood.

Several have stated that they do not like the political or cultural climate here. Specificall,y they refer to the fundamentalist Muslim movement which in its worst manifestations has recently produced violent acts of terrorism here in Algeria and Algiers.

People also mention a pressure too that exists in what people say to each other. It’s a pressure to conform or to be a certain way. One lady told me that her own cleaning lady asks her why she doesn’t wear the scarf. Another said that in her workplace she received an anonymous letter chastising her for her friendliness towards foreigners as shameful for an Algerian woman, and she actually was born in America- though they don’t know that.

One academic described her country as a land of paradoxes. I find her description very apt after 3 weeks here. During the day, the place has a dynamic movement to it. Women are out and about doing things and working anywhere. Daytime traffic is so busy it can be asphyxiating. At night, that changes. There are less or no public buses running after 8pm or so and many women are not comfortable being out after dark or too late. Though, paradoxically, some have cars and actually go out on weekends to nightclubs like the one at the Sheraton Hotel about 20K from downtown Algiers.

The academic colleague went on to say that Algeria is very green…at least the northern part and mentioned that recently that it had been named the greenest country in Africa, though I forget where she said she read that. Paradoxically she admitted, Algeria is only second to Sudan in the amount of the Sahara desert that lies within its borders.

Others have told me of their desire to leave soon. They are waiting until retirement or after another year or two and then they will go to the US or to Europe. One lady in describing the Bouzareah campus to me when I arrived, said, “Welcome to Afghanistan.” Things must have been very different before. While I hardly believe that Algeria in terms of political or cultural situation really resembles Afghanistan, they have said that 20 years ago, women here did not wear the scarves that many don today. Me, coming from Yemen, I find their scarf/robe fashion refreshing in its color and variety. In Yemen, the black abaya and niqab are quite often the rule, though the black abaya there gets variety in the sequin and beaded designs one finds. Those exist here too, but are not the majority by any means. Speaking of the abaya, I did see a young lady wearing one here with a sequin/beaded design that bore a very big prominent Coco Chanel logo on the front.

Anyways back to impressions and thoughts on Algeria the country. Perhaps mismanagement plays a part in keeping things from running smooth here. Some suspect corruption. Its obvious that there are some things that don’t add up for a country that has a GDP of 250 Billion dollars. Yemen has an annual GDP of 20 Billion dollar. It is surprising that here on the Mediterranean coast the price of seafood is relatively high, because supposedly the fishing rights are all leased or sold to other countries. I know that Mauritania also sells rights to fish off its coast to other countries too, but nonetheless there was some good fish to be bought at reasonably cheap prices in Nouakchott and Nouadhibou. So why not in Algiers?

Newspapers and statistics say that unemployment is high and you can see it everyday in Algiers. You see young men standing about and around, just hanging out with friends with nothing to do at all hours of the day. Some make spare change all day long, voluntarily watching cars parked on sidewalks in an area that has become their territory so to speak.

One thing I have noticed at the university is the lack of equipment and resources. University education I’m told is free. But free in this case doesn’t guarantee you get your money’s worth. There are virtually no textbooks. Somewhere a copy machine salesman is smiling. It seems all around there is a need for improvement and investment. The buildings and equipment could stand an upgrade and as I mentioned before, the faculty feels it is not getting appropriate compensation.

So why does this situation and lack of investment in higher institutions exist? Who knows the real answer of how or why these institutions are not properly supported. In the end, what is happening?

I would also like to add a comment here. Through couchsurfing.com, Mars Williamson of Sweden wrote me inquiring about the situation here. He is thinking of visiting and wonders whether the stereotypical bad news one hears about Algeria and the Middle East is at all true. I can say that since being here, nothing has happened to me nor have I ever felt threatened. However, there’s a feeling in the air at times. A feeling of fear or preoccupation. I notice it in my building, when some people are not friendly to me or in fact question my being here. This is a big city, yes, and they are essentially trying to secure the premises. I don’t take it personally. No, when one puts this into perspective and remembers the violence they suffered in the 90s and the more recent experiences with terrorism, then that really explains the emotions and feelings these people are going through. I would think its gonna take some time to get over that. Nonetheless, there’s a certain feeling in the air and I don’t think it’s joie de vivre. Maybe it’s that old depressing saying, Fatiguee de vivre, peur de mourir. (Tired to live, scared to die).

So there you have some comments heard from locals who one could say are not afraid to be critical of their homeland. How about the flip side of that coin?

Yes, the weather can be nice and the architectural variety fascinating. The languages can be a befuddling maze of linguistic hodgepodge. The people seem resilient in a vital and positive way. The same academic who found paradox so befitting of her country, claimed austere as a vital quality of the Algerian. This is in contrast with Egyptians and Syrians, for example she said, who “really enjoy life.”

I find Algerians to be amazingly adept at managing their identities, languages and cultural contexts. As varied as the terrain goes from Sahara to Kabylie mountains to superb coastal cities with Roman ruins so goes the colonial and imperial histories linked to the Ottomans, the Arabs, the Phoenicians, the Andalucians, the Fatimids, the Almoravids, the French, the British, the Pirates, the Vandals…Algeria seems austere and resilient. As many other relatively new countries, however, it is facing the challenges of defining its overall identity and vision for the future.

le premier novembre...

Anniversary of the Revolution

Today Algeria celebrated the anniversary of the Revolution, which began in 1954. Not much was going on today and it's been cold and rainy for several days anyways. However, an international book fair was going on and I decided to check that out with Nazim and Dr. Elizabeth Bishop.
The book fair was pretty big and there were lots of books in Arabic and French primarily. There were a lot of books on Islam, educational materials and some very good books on Algeria. One of the publishers present was Gallimard from France and they had a very good selection of books as did Editeurs Sans Frontieres. I bought a glossary of Arabic words that appear in French, a small photo and information book on the Kabylie people of Algeria and, for work, I bought a book on Phrasal Verbs by Macmillan and some puppets. One of the puppets is a funny looking evil Zippy the Pinhead looking person and is exactly the same as one I bought at the book fair in Aden last year. These puppet dealers are making a killing at the book fairs off of me!

The rain went on all day and having forgotten my umbrella, I got a little wet. Once home, I just relaxed and then went out for dinner later. In the evening I tried Le Saigon, a Vietnamese restaurant near my place. I was expecting to eat some Pho, but I had squid curry and My Sao- a noodle dish with chicken and veggies. After that, I went out to a live music venue the Lonely Planet recommends, Le Racym’s. It’s actually a kind of fancy looking dinner-dance club. Having already eaten, I didn’t try the food, but the place was packed and it looked allright. When I arrived, the DJ was playing Rai music and the small dance floor was packed already. It didn’t take long to make friends with some regulars and they got me to cut a rug. It was fun, and I heard some songs, I hadn’t heard since partying at the “Casa” in Nouakchott, Mauritania.
After a good hour or so of that, the DJ threw on some current international dance club hits. Things like “World Hold ON…” (I think by Bob Sinclair). After that I walked home.