Dear Lucas,
How do you like Florida? How is your new neighborhood, and your new school? You are in kindergarden now! Do you like your teacher and your new friends? How is it different than your preschool and your old teacher, Miss Michelle? I know how much you liked her and how much she taught you.
Well, guess what! Here in Cairo, I'm a preschool teacher, just like Miss Michelle! And everyday, parents drop off their children to my classroom, where we sing and dance and color and draw and read stories and play with puzzles. We talk about colors and shapes, and fruits and vegetables, and animals and people. We practice our counting and sing our ABC's. We even sing some of the same songs you learned at school, like "Old McDonald," "Bingo," and "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." At the end of the day, I gather the drawings and projects each student has made and write their names clearly on top so that they can take them home to their moms and dads, just like Miss Michelle would do for you when she put your crafts into your purple canvas bag.
But there are many differences between Miss Michelle and me. She is much more experienced and has proper training, and has been a part of her school's community for quite some time. I don't have a lot of experience teaching little ones, nor do I have proper training. And I'm so new! I've only been teaching here for about a month, and at least once a week I will have a new-to-me-but-not-to-anyone-else student I've never seen before!
The biggest difference, though, is that she spoke the same language as you. Only one of my students speaks English at home. His name is Andy, and his parents are Americans working in Cairo. For the rest of them, however, English is brand new. Imagine, going to a school where your teacher understands only a little bit of what you say and you an even smaller bit of what she says! It's hard for both of us.
Other than Andy, I'm the only one at the nursery who spoke English growing up. All of the nursery workers know a few words here and there, but their native language is Arabic. Most of my students speak Arabic at home, too, making it easy for them to connect and communicate with the sitters and principle and other students.
I do have one student, however, whose family is from Sri Lanka. Natasha speaks Arabic with the other children and with the ladies at the nursery, but at home she speaks Sinhala, and with me she speaks English! It's incredible to see her switch between the three. She goes from Sinhala with her mom, to English with me, to Arabic with the other children, to English with the other children, to Arabic with the ladies at the nursery...it's amazing! But it also must be confusing for her. I can often understand what she is trying to say (whether in Arabic or English), but her sentences are stunted. She connects her nouns with basic verbs, and often forgets to say "am." "I angry!" she'll say (which is exactly how you say "I am angry" in Arabic).
Putting sentences together is difficult for many children, and it certainly can be for me in Arabic! But some of my students are so young--some as young as Olivia!--that they don't yet know the names for basic things around them, especially less common fruits and vegetables. They have to learn everything twice: once in Arabic, and once in English. One of my students, Omar, cannot remember the word "grapes" unless he says the Arabic word first. And though he certainly knows the word "banana," he'll automatically say the word in Arabic, because it's what he's used to.
But the idea is that by simply being around me, they can absorb some English and, most importantly, pick up my American accent. Here in Egypt, strong English speaking skills are essential for success in the future. Though I find it so sad that Arabic doesn't hold a similar weight--and one reason why it is so difficult to speak Arabic as a foreigner here--I know that it is beneficial to them in the future, that no matter what they do, speaking English well will give them more opportunities and open more doors for them and their families.
Do a lot of your new friends speak Spanish? You should try to learn a little bit from them! Though it's difficult, learning a new language is so important. It can give you more opportunities for work, like English does here in Cairo, but it can also introduce you to a different culture and to another life, to different peoples and new ways of thinking. Studying Arabic is what sent me to Jordan and to Morocco. It's what introduced me to delicious foods and rich traditions and beautiful literature I never knew of before. It's what brought me to Cairo, and to Mom's Nursery. And though it's been almost unbearably hard at times, I'm so glad that I'm here.
Love,
Miss Emily
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Egyptian Spaghetti
Dear Olivia,
I know how much you and your brothers love to eat spaghetti. And what a mess you and Lucas make when you eat it! While Robert continues to exercise his skills with a fork, the two of you have decided the best way to eat spaghetti is to dig in directly with your bare, should-have-recently-been-washed, hands. For you, I'd often cut the long noodles into smaller pieces, allowing you to grab fistfuls of the slippery, saucy strands and stuff them into your mouth--or, at least, get them close to your mouth, but mostly on your nose and cheeks. Lucas, sitting across from you, eats his spaghetti noodle by noodle. After finding the end of a single spaghetti strand, he plucks it up between his finger and thumb, tilts his head back as far as he possibly can and dangles the line until it hovers directly over his wide, open mouth. Like a fish eyeing bait, he waits for the precise moment of stillness before closing his jaws, simultaneously returning his head to it's normal, forward looking position, and slurps the worm until it is completely in his mouth (and all of the tangy, red sauce is splattered across his shirt, his chin, the table, the walls, and sometimes even you!). I'll admit it: when I was little I also preferred to eat my spaghetti this way, begging my parents to take me to that one restaurant with "sucky spaghetti" (which may or may not have been Bob Evan's).
There is something about spaghetti that appeals to everyone. For one thing, not much is cheaper than a pound of angel hair pasta and a jar of your standard tomato sauce. It's also so simple to make, and essentially takes no time at all to prepare. It's also quite yummy and filling.
In Cairo, I can buy noodles and sauce at any market. But unless I go to a more westernized, fancy-ish restaurant, I will never find our beloved spaghetti and sauce on a menu. Instead, I'll find koshry.
What is koshry, you wonder? It's like spaghetti and sauce, but it's so much more! Instead of just one type of noodles, koshry is a mix of many different shapes of pasta--spaghetti, macaroni, vermicelli, and rigatoni, just to name a few--in addition to brown lentils and white rice. The pastas, pulses, and grains are each cooked separately in huge, drum-like metal steamers, then scooped into one bowl and mixed together. It is served with a mild, universally appealing tomato sauce (sometimes on the side and sometimes poured on top), and topped with tiny fried onions to give it a perfect crunch. If you like (and I like!), you can season your own personal bowl with the chili oil and garlic vinegar found on your table.
Koshry is certainly different than spaghetti. For one thing, it combines different shapes and textures that we often have in America, but always eat separately. And unlike spaghetti and sauce, it is rarely made at home! You of course, could make it, but it would take a lot of time, patience, and skill (and many, many pots and pans). I have seen women, however, stop by a restaurant and buy the noodles and lentils and rice to be served with their homemade, secret-recipe tomato sauce.
But the biggest difference of all is that there are restaurants that serve only koshry. There is even one famous place downtown, Abu Tarak's, that is five stories tall! Imagine going to a huge building in downtown Austin, illuminated with neon blue and red lights, packed with families from all around town, and ordering only spaghetti! Some koshry joints are fancier than others: some have more varieties of pasta to serve; some have sodas; others have your standard Egyptian desserts, like Umm Ali and rice pudding. But, recently, Maurice and I went to a place that served only koshry. It was the only item on the menu. That's it. Nothing more to choose, except the size of your bowl: regular, medium, and large. We both ordered regular--though with extra sauce--and were stuffed a mere 8 Egyptian Pounds later (about $1.30). So yummy, so cheap, and so filling. I bet you'd love it.
Love,
Miss Emily
I know how much you and your brothers love to eat spaghetti. And what a mess you and Lucas make when you eat it! While Robert continues to exercise his skills with a fork, the two of you have decided the best way to eat spaghetti is to dig in directly with your bare, should-have-recently-been-washed, hands. For you, I'd often cut the long noodles into smaller pieces, allowing you to grab fistfuls of the slippery, saucy strands and stuff them into your mouth--or, at least, get them close to your mouth, but mostly on your nose and cheeks. Lucas, sitting across from you, eats his spaghetti noodle by noodle. After finding the end of a single spaghetti strand, he plucks it up between his finger and thumb, tilts his head back as far as he possibly can and dangles the line until it hovers directly over his wide, open mouth. Like a fish eyeing bait, he waits for the precise moment of stillness before closing his jaws, simultaneously returning his head to it's normal, forward looking position, and slurps the worm until it is completely in his mouth (and all of the tangy, red sauce is splattered across his shirt, his chin, the table, the walls, and sometimes even you!). I'll admit it: when I was little I also preferred to eat my spaghetti this way, begging my parents to take me to that one restaurant with "sucky spaghetti" (which may or may not have been Bob Evan's).
There is something about spaghetti that appeals to everyone. For one thing, not much is cheaper than a pound of angel hair pasta and a jar of your standard tomato sauce. It's also so simple to make, and essentially takes no time at all to prepare. It's also quite yummy and filling.
In Cairo, I can buy noodles and sauce at any market. But unless I go to a more westernized, fancy-ish restaurant, I will never find our beloved spaghetti and sauce on a menu. Instead, I'll find koshry.
What is koshry, you wonder? It's like spaghetti and sauce, but it's so much more! Instead of just one type of noodles, koshry is a mix of many different shapes of pasta--spaghetti, macaroni, vermicelli, and rigatoni, just to name a few--in addition to brown lentils and white rice. The pastas, pulses, and grains are each cooked separately in huge, drum-like metal steamers, then scooped into one bowl and mixed together. It is served with a mild, universally appealing tomato sauce (sometimes on the side and sometimes poured on top), and topped with tiny fried onions to give it a perfect crunch. If you like (and I like!), you can season your own personal bowl with the chili oil and garlic vinegar found on your table.
Koshry is certainly different than spaghetti. For one thing, it combines different shapes and textures that we often have in America, but always eat separately. And unlike spaghetti and sauce, it is rarely made at home! You of course, could make it, but it would take a lot of time, patience, and skill (and many, many pots and pans). I have seen women, however, stop by a restaurant and buy the noodles and lentils and rice to be served with their homemade, secret-recipe tomato sauce.
But the biggest difference of all is that there are restaurants that serve only koshry. There is even one famous place downtown, Abu Tarak's, that is five stories tall! Imagine going to a huge building in downtown Austin, illuminated with neon blue and red lights, packed with families from all around town, and ordering only spaghetti! Some koshry joints are fancier than others: some have more varieties of pasta to serve; some have sodas; others have your standard Egyptian desserts, like Umm Ali and rice pudding. But, recently, Maurice and I went to a place that served only koshry. It was the only item on the menu. That's it. Nothing more to choose, except the size of your bowl: regular, medium, and large. We both ordered regular--though with extra sauce--and were stuffed a mere 8 Egyptian Pounds later (about $1.30). So yummy, so cheap, and so filling. I bet you'd love it.
Love,
Miss Emily
Spaghetti and Sauce
It's hard to believe that something so delicious as spaghetti and sauce is so easy to make!
Here's what you need:
-a large pot
-water
-salt
-a box of spaghetti
-jar of spaghetti sauce
-a bowl or sauce pan
-colander
-large bowl or serving platter
-serving spoon or fork
-parmesan cheese
Here's how:
First, boil some water in a large pot (or, ask an older friend to do it for you if you aren't allowed to turn on the stove by yourself) and sprinkle in a little salt. After the water is boiling and bubbling, add the brittle, raw noodles, letting them cook for about 10 minutes.
While the pasta is cooking, heat up your sauce. I prefer to use the stove top and a sauce pan, but the microwave works just as well--just be sure to cover your bowl with a paper towel so the sauce doesn't splatter all over and make a huge mess!
Now here comes the tricky part (it's not so much tricky because it is difficult, but because you have to be a little strong to do it): place a colander in the sink, and pour the pot of boiling water and pasta into the colander, allowing the hot water to drain from the noodles. Then, rinse with cold water, shaking out any excess liquid.
Next, place the noodles into a large bowl or serving platter.
The final step is up to you and your family: you can either mix the warm sauce in with the bare noodles, or, serve them separately (and with parmesan cheese!), allowing each person to use as much or as little sauce as they like. I like lots and lots of sauce. But my mom barely likes any at all! She lightly waves a spoon of the universally palatable red sauce over the spaghetti, barely moistening her plate of yellow pasta.
------
Other than being easy and cheap, I like to think of spaghetti and sauce as medium to express and experiment with our creativity. Like a page from a coloring book, we are able to leave it as it is and have an outlined image to appreciate. Or we can color it, make it our own. With the outlines as a guide, we can do as we like. We can color as much or as little of the picture as we want. We can also decide how we will color it, with markers or crayons or pastels. We can decide to make the sky blue and the grass green, or we can make the sky red and the grass purple! We can stay within the lines or venture away from them. We can even add our own drawings to the picture. Our final art piece to hang on the refrigerator can be as simple or as complicated as we'd like.
And spaghetti is the same way. We can change the shape of the pasta. Instead of long, thin noodles, we can use bowties or shells. We can try whole-grain or the colored varieties, too. We can add veggies to the sauce, season it with spices, add cheese. Though it takes more time, is a little more difficult, and requires more experience in the kitchen, I like to make my own sauce. I cut up whatever vegetables I can find (eggplant and roasted red pepper are my favorites) and allow them to simmer and stew with chunky tomatoes, garlic, onions, and fresh herbs. The result is different every time: sometimes it's sweet and sometimes it's spicy, but it's always rewarding to taste the concoction that has been producing mouth-watering smells in your kitchen.
للصحة (Lil-Saha!) To Health!
image from BiteDelite!
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