eudaimonia & anagnorisis

Last night I tagged along with Sameh to run his errands in masrGedidah. Given the recent revelation that dating and engagement are practically interchangeable in Egypt, we were having a pretty heated little conversation of difference…amidst the conversational frenzy and, of course, the reckless drivers, we passed a routine check-point and noticed the policeman in the rear-view shouting “iowa” and flagging Sameh’s car. Sameh looked around to see what could have prompted it and then whispered, “effff… seatbelt” – “I’m the one always going wearing my seatbelt but the onnnnne time- ” he clinched his teeth and rolled down the window. His face lit up and he instantly began wordsmithing the officer, making him laugh and look mischievously to the side. The officer took his ID card and walked away for a moment. The shine in Sameh’s face faded and he started digging through his wallet … “I need money – not that much money –ah money money money” he fished into his pockets while I asked him “how much will it cost you?” and he shuffled out a few twenty and five pound notes from his pocket. “It will cost me my license,” he kept a 20note and tossed the other bills towards me, “now you keep this. OooooK,” his game face was on again. The men stood at the corner, dancing in conversation, looking from the ID card to one another to the car to the ID card... I’ve seen so many Arab men of all ages and nationalities participate in this elaborate demonstration of group negotiation so many times that I feel comfortable stereotyping the situation: If a decision must be made among the group at hand, first everyone (usually the divers of each car but sometimes all the men in the group) must exit their vehicle in order to discuss the issue in neutral territory. Preferably this area should be visible by each car and the remaining audience. Next each participant must initiate the lengthy Arabesque introductions: SalamwaAlaikum waAlaikum salam(indecipherable)Barakat…ezzayak? Akhbarak ay? Kulutamam. Enta 3ml ay? alHamdulila, alHamdulila…Following the requisite greetings, the men begin outlining the decisions to the made, this point in the conversation is characterized by contemplative glances towards each car, troubled looks at their watches, and needless scrolling through their cell phone contacts. At this point, by-standers can tell that the first possible solution has presented itself. Tasks are delegated and a few of the men begin speaking on their mobile phones (Note: their phone conversations repeat the greetings and inductions of the preceding conversation). The remaining men in the group put themselves at ease and begin light conversation of life generally. When the mobile-delegates finish their phone calls they will momentarily tangent away from the task at hand in order to acquaint themselves with these conversations. If stagnation ensues, any men remaining in the cars join the mission at the negotiation area as if they are a reserve army of decision-makers. In efficient situations, this prompts the initial decision-makers to disperse the plan to each car immediately. In a less effective situation, this prompts the greetings and introductions again and then requires a full briefing of what solutions are being considered. Eventually someone receives a phone call and the decision appears to be made. The men disperse back to their cars, save the two primary decision-makers in the negotioation, but none show any expression of triumph or clarity. Everyone waits in the cars until the two decision-makers still in the field shake one another’s hands, laugh loudly, or receive a phone call. At this point they will proudly inform everyone, yallah. I have given this distinct social practice of ‘male-domincated group negotiation’ a nifty nickname to facilitate its use in daily conversation: Comparing penis-length.

When Sameh returned to the car, he fastened his seatbelt, tucked his ID safely into his wallet, turned to me and laughed “twenty pounds.” Aaaaaaaaaah, so that’s how corruption works, I thought. “It doesn’t always work…” he said. Mmm… fil mish mish, I thought.