The HELP Commission (
www.HELPCommission.gov ) continues its review
of the U.S. Government's foreign assistance programs in Egypt today. And there is much
ground to cover - literally. Whereas yesterday we reviewed urban programs
inside Cairo's
city limits, today carries us to the countryside. We start early and catch the
sun's rays reflecting off the pyramids. Then, into the desert, brown, flat and
barren! The trajectory is south and west of Cairo to the Fayoum Governate. We are a
convoy of three armored vans, but we are joined after two hours by a guide car
that takes us down a series of rural roads. The terrain remains flat, but
irrigation has turned this recently arrived at area a lush green. Past smaller
settlements of small cement and brick homes, we note the simplicity of the
lifestyle and we realize that people who are along the roadside - and there are
plenty of them - are often staring at our convoy.
We pull into a small neighborhood with
rocky, uneven dirt roads, quite narrow. We can't make a turn, but get close
enough to see a small crowd gathered in front a square, freshly painted
building. It is a dairy cooperative containing the technical equipment to
analyze the quality of milk brought by the farmers nearby. A team of
enthusiastic and well educated specialists along with simple farmers, greet us
and swoop us into a passionate orientation of milk content and the history of
this co-op., but to get the full explanation, we must don surgical masks and
booties. To dramatically oversimplify things, my summary is basically that once
the co-op establishes that the milk is clean and disease-free, the farmer is
paid for the milk based on the fat content of what is received (this ensures
that the farmer will not water the product down) Then, the milk is filtered and
passes through other processes and deposited into a large cooling vat. From
there, a plastic tube runs across the cement floor to a small truck with a tank
on the back. The truck comes 7 days a week - as do the farmers (thanks to their
faithful and relentless cows). And the
truck spends the entire day being filled up to the brim. But the story of this
process should not leave the farmer out so we stroll down the street to visit
the homes of two families. Up four steps we climb to an open-air entry way, off
of which a two or three doorways to single rooms connect. Each box-like room
has a lone light bulb dangling from the ceiling. The windows are covered with
dark drapes, beyond which are also shutters and a glass pane. We are received
with warmth by a woman farmer and her children. She is proud of her home. And
it is spotless! We stand in a circle and learn how the dairy co-op has allowed
her family to receive more income from milk sales. They've learned better
nutrition for their cows, who now produce more and better milk. She is now also
confident that no milk dealer will cheat them. "Do you want to see the
cow?" "Absolutely," is our reply. We exit the room and wander
deeper into the home, emerging in a narrow back area that is part backyard,
part barn and all attached to the house. "Away in a manger" pops into
my head, and I think, "this is definitely not very far 'away," but
the cattle are sure here." This woman's neighbor also has a cow, and our
visit there finds a similar configuration except that the animal areas of the
house are closer to where the people live - and there are rooms for chickens
and other animals. If Egypt's
avian flu situation escalates (they've already had several human deaths), this
home would be vulnerable. As we leave, I notice that the symbols on the
families wall indicate that this is a Coptic Christian family. Christians and
Muslims living next door to each other in peace! Now there's an export product!
I would have loved to sit and discuss matters of faith, but we simply did not
have the time.
The enthusiasm for milk products impresses
us, and we give thanks that the dairy co-op's sign indicates to all comers that
this place is a gift from the American people.
Next stop: an elementary school where the U.S. government
is refining a program that builds schools and re-trains Egyptian teachers
toward a more interactive teaching style. The tradition of education in Egypt is one of
rote memorization. The school is vibrant, filled with adorable children and is
extraordinarily chaotic. We hear beautiful songs and behold precious faces. So
much potential. So much at stake even for the stability of the region as many,
many of these children come from Muslim homes. The computer lab (sans internet
connectivity) is encouraging too, yet the new donated textbooks lie unused on a
shelf, evidently because they are too nice to give to the students. The sad
thing is that the textbooks that the children do have are in shambles.
From a school to a waste water treatment
plant! Quite a transition! This very large scale project impresses us with the
fact that it is beautifully maintained and is in operation providing healthy
sewage treatment for literally millions of people. The treatment facility staff
is highly professional and precise, and though the project represents a very
large sum of U.S.
taxpayer assistance, you can see the tangible benefit. A comment is made about
how this type of investment is far cheaper than the military cost - in human
life and hardware - of a widespread Middle East
conflict. The reality is that there is more than a humanitarian objective with
foreign assistance in Egypt.
There is a political reality. Egypt
is one of the Arab states that is at peace with Israel,
and Egypt
shifted its position, the results would be chilling. Iraq could look like child's play.
A note in another Middle East newspaper reads like this, "President (of
Egypt) Hosni Mubarek said the Muslim Brotherhood poses a threat to Egypt's
security and the country would face isolation in the world if the Islamist
movement became more powerful." U.S. foreign assistance in essence
helps secure a peace. At the same time, I remind myself that we must keep the
human face of individual needs ever before us. And I am also reminded of the
words of the Apostle Paul who urges us to be at peace with all men and to pray
for those who rule nations.
An embassy official waves us into the vans.
We cannot linger. "We MUST go. NOW!" are the words, since the
afternoon has stretched onward, and night travel is against the embassy's
policy.
Across the desert we go. Dusk falls. We
look silently at the pyramids as we pass them. And as we arrive at our lodging,
we learn more about a few thins: 1) Secretary of State Rice is headed to Egypt
(we will not cross paths), and 2) a couple that has lived in Cairo for 20 years
will meet us in 15 minutes to take us to Cairo's famed Khan Bazaar.
My cold is thankfully better, and so my
assistant Paul and I join the group venture to the bazaar - a maze of
passageways, hidden staircases, stray kittens, colors, fabrics and every kind
of shop and cafe. One expects Aladdin himself to leap out from a basket at any
time. I walk away with a new chess board, a wooden box - and an Egyptian flag
for my son.
My activities continue past midnight with
two internet conference calls.
Doing-Loving-Walking (Micah 6:8),
Ben
