The third car

I can't believe it has been 10 days since my last post! I am headed out tonight for a trip to the Red Sea for some R&R over the Easter holiday (Eastern Orthodox celebrates this weekend, and since that is the root of most churches here this is when it is recognized here)! 

These past few weeks I have spent a lot of time on the metro (subway as it is known in some areas of the world, the one here alternates between above ground and underground).  This is because I have been doing more and more interviews.  Instead of taking the bus out to campus, I travel downtown or across town to meet various NGO leaders. 

My time on the metro is hard, inspiring, and always eye opening.  The metro is very cheap, about 18 cents to anywhere on the line.  Because of the cheap cost, this is a popular way to travel for many of the lower income citizens. My ride to Doqqi takes about an hour.  At times the metro becomes so crowded that my feet don't touch the ground.  I stand suspended by bodies around me.  Segregation of sexes is a strong value here.  Especially if a woman is traveling alone (or not accompanied by a man).  So the third and fourth cars of the metro trains are dedicated to women only.  (If a man happens to jump in one at the last second as the doors are closing, they tend to blush and stare out the window, hoping for the next stop to come as quickly as possible so they can move cars). 

Being surrounded for an hour by people who live on such a small amount of money (probably 50 cents a day), always reminds me of how blessed I am to have a job, and the ability/health to work the job.  But I never leave the metro just feeling sorry for those around me, they inspire me.  I see women taking small children with them as they fight the crowds that I find difficult to get myself through.  Or the sensitivity of the women for each other, giving up the few seats for women who are elderly, pregnant, or physically challenged.  Or holding each others children so a mother can get a break, or entertaining a crying child to relieve a stressed mom. 

The hard part comes from being the foreigner.  When I step on the train, it doesn't matter what I am wearing, my appearance screams foreigner. Then there seems to be some unspoken rule when a person gets up from their seat, they choose the person to take their seat by motioning to someone standing.  I get the impression that because I am a foreigner it is assumed I am rich, therefore I shouldn't be riding the metro.  So why should I get a seat. (I know this isn't what all the ladies are thinking, and some even smile at me during the ride.  But since I am trying to be sensitive to culture, I don't want to step on toes if I can help it). So rarely do I get a seat.  The other day however, I was chosen. An elderly lady picked me, out of the 10 young girls standing in my area, to have her seat as she got up to leave the train.  I almost broke into tears. There is such an honor in being chosen when you least expect it. 

This post is a little messy.  Maybe because the metro ride is always so emotionally stretching for me that I am not sure how to put it all in words. But it has become such a routine part of my life, I wanted to capture at least a piece of it.