Boston vs. Houston

So since about May, I've been battling between going to get my Masters in Public Health at Boston University (BU) or at the University of Texas Health Science Center in Houston.

I pretty much decided that if a job opportunity came my way from Boston University (if the school offered me a full time job and with the job tuition remission) I would take the job and go to school as a part time student.

But over the course of these few months, after visiting Egypt and realizing that I love international health, but I might not be cut out to live internationally for the rest of my life...my viewpoint on the whole school situation has been changing.

I started spending more time in Houston where I have family and friends, and after several phone interviews with job prospects at BU, but no dice, my mind started to dream of Houston and the blessings that awaited me there. Monday, 2 weeks before school starts I get a phone call from Boston. "We'd like to offer you the position of admissions assistant with the school of public health," the HR lady says. My first thought is, are you people serious? 2 weeks before I'm supposed to report for school? I have to pay for a plane ticket, find a place to live, move all my shit to Boston, start a new job and on top of that go to school (Which is the whole reason for the move in the first place).

So I asked her if there was any kind of relocation compensation, "No." What is the last day I can start? "August 25th." Exactly two weeks to uproot myself from a life I am perfectly content with to start a brand new one all for the sake of my graduate education?

Yes. So let's focus on the graduate education that is so important to me. One school will focus completely on International Health and prepare me for a career within the international health field. Another will focus on Management, Policy and Community Health with a concentration in Global Health. So if I don't want to spend the rest of my life in the bush as a single missionary woman and I might actually be looking to raise a family in America, how useful is my MPH in international health gonna be? Better to focus on the broader scope of an MPH in Management, Policy and Community Health which I can implement here or abroad.

Below you'll find the rest of my rant and a final conclusion to my decision. You might be surprised at my choice-I know I was. But then again, God always keeps me on my toes and I'm thankful that He's steering this ship cause I'm easily tossed by the waves of this world and can sometimes get lost in it. Hallelujah for He is my compass and points me in the right direction.

Good Ole Psalm 25 has really showered me with peace through ultimate truth spoken. My prayer through this time has remained, "Show me your ways, O LORD, teach me your paths;
guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long."



"It doesn't matter what people think, it matters what you think. You have to make the decision, no one else. how do you feel?" mama's wise words.

Here's how i feel (man what a hard concept for me-adding feeling to the realm of reasoning): One option gives me the ability to work in the US, a broader career focus and the ability to actually focus completely on school (which is the reason for this season of my life) as well as begin a thesis and possibly pursue a PhD-all in a city where I have a bunch of family and friends, I'm close to my parents and will be able to enjoy my life. Cook, clean, entertain people, go dancing and do other enjoyable things in the city as well as take care of my own personal health by exercising daily and stepping into a church body that is not completely foreign to me, where I have accountability already established. People know me in Houston.

Houston Pros:
Full-Time Student
Management, Policy, and Community Health (MPH) w/ a concentration in Global health
International Practicum (between first and second year)
Thesis/dissertation topic relevant to global health (with advisers along the way to help shape dissertation)
Possible pursuit of PhD (immediate transition from MPH to PhD-no time in between)
Time for Personal Life-Spiritual, Physical, Mental-time for myself and time with my family in Houston, exercise, dance, enjoy friends, work (write), paint, knit-take on new fun things

Houston Cons:
Houston weather
Tuition More than Boston


In Boston, I wont just be going to school I will be working alongside the school which I hope will open doors to new connections and worldwide possibilities. The only thing is that I will be working 40 hours as an admissions assistant, and school will be part-time. I will not retain information about my masters the way I would if I was a full-time student. Boston is a fun city and very much professional-minded. I will be a working woman in all respects and probably will not have time for myself because I will work 9-5 and then go to class at night and study somewhere in between That doesn't really leave time for me to enjoy the city or the people around me. If I am not about working in international health for the rest of my life, how important is a degree focused specifically on international health? I will not have time to volunteer or work with refugees and do the things I was excited to do in the first place because i will have a full time job. Also, I'm not sure how well admissions assistant in the school of public health will reflect on my resume.

Boston Pros:
Full-time Job in School of Public Health
MPH with dual concentration in International Health/Epidemiology
Cheaper tuition
Live in city of Boston
Serve the undeserved and learn how to do it well
Brand New network of People (Connections formed with Professors and students)


Boston Cons:
Part-Time student
Practicum experience will be after I finish school (during the same time that I should be looking for a full time job)
Will not retain/receive the experience I hope for as a graduate student due to full time job
Full time job in admissions (not going to further my resume)
Far from family
Personal Life on Back burner
Winters


And as much as I'd like to say it doesn't matter, my friends and family are what make my life one that is blessed. With two opportunities, why would I take the one that removes me from my friends and family I've spent a lifetime investing in (and I'm sure will further get to invest into if i go to Houston) in order to pursue my career in Boston. But am I really even pursuing my career in Boston? I'm gonna have a full time job in admissions (something I'm not passionate about and will not further my career) and put Public Health (something I am passionate about learning) on the back burner by taking it on part time-all so I can be in Boston where I have no set body of Christ waiting to support me and welcome me with open arms.

Am I crazy? Am I really leaning towards making Houston, what I once affectionately referred to as the "armpit of Texas," my home? If someone were to say to me, "If all of your friends jumped off the bridge, would you?" My answer would be, "Hell ya!" Maybe I'm finally letting myself be heard and know who I am instead of try to be who I am not. Who I am is a girl that loves people and is inspired and encouraged by the people that surround her, not by jobs or the competition. Maybe that's who I wanted to be-yes I am made better through stimulating conversations, diversity, change and being pushed intellectually but more than that I love the body of Christ. I am home in the body of Christ and comfortable in the love that is there not because of my brains, brawns, intellectual capacity or humanitarian efforts-but because of Christ. Because we share His resurrection and understand true love-how to give it and receive it-because He first loved us. I'm not that kid that thinks Christ was a great historical figure who was really smart and a leader, but wasn't really God incarnate. I'm not too smart to wrap my head around such "ideas" of Christ dying for our sins as the ultimate act of love and freedom for us, so that we may truly live. I'm foolish enough (or smart enough-it all depends) to know how imperfect I am and the thing that drives me to live for tomorrow is not my desire to be perfect in this world, it's my desire to be perfect in Christ's Kingdom. Better to jump into the armpit with a body of believers next to me instead of journey into the unknown land that smells of roses but who really knows what lies behind the roses. In the wise words of OUTKAST, Those roses could smell like poo poo, which is way worse than armpit. Those roses could be covering thorns, which I can't foresee- All I see is the beauty of the rose, nothing more.

Armpit = Straight up Truth.
Roses = Paint a pretty picture but so does Satan-and in the end, you're all alone.

Armpit here I come to take a big whiff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mariam's Family at the Farm

For Two Days, Mariam and I went to her farm in Egypt. Mariam has the largest family I've ever encountered, and it took me the 3 weeks we spent in Port Said for me to get her Mom's side straight and keep from confusing them with her dad's side. Seriously, we didn't have TV in Port Said, which was fine because Mariam would just tell me stories about both sides of her family from how her parents met (her dad was walking on the farmland, saw her mom and was like, "yes please" which turned into a quick engagement and an even quicker marriage) to Mariam's realization that her mom only had 3 brothers and not 5 (two of which are actually cousins, who her mom treats as brothers). So, let's focus on Mariam's mom's side, cause that's the side we visited on the farm in Egypt.

Her Mom has 3 brothers and two sisters. Her brothers and sisters have lots of kids, and as the family has grown, they have expanded their living quarters on the farm. So basically they have two apartments and every family has a floor of the apartment right next to the acreage you see in the photos. These photos are just a few I got to take when we were at the farm. While there, while we were fasting (and told them so) we ate roz bram, (translated as rice in a bram-a bram is a clay pot which things like rice are cooked/baked in), yummy bread made with fresh cow's milk, and fish straight from the "sea." On one of our walks around the land, I saw the "sea" they go fishing in. It's actually a canal of the Nile River and Mariam explained the way they go fishing. Basically they empty out the canal and pick up all the fish that no longer have water to swim in. It was some of the best fish I've had in Egypt, not kidding. I've also realized that unless you're staying in a convent with nuns, fasting is all relative in Egypt and virtually impossible when you are a guest. We basically were fasting but also ate milk byproducts as well as ate fish on Friday when the rest of the people on the farm actually fasted.

Farm culture is very different from what I'm used to when I'm in Egypt, since most of my family is in the middle of hot, polluted, loud, Cairo. The farm was beautiful and relaxing and a great way to appreciate the fertile land of Egypt. I felt like a member of the family immediately. From Noor throwing corn on the cob at me, while I was playing soccer in my galebaya,with all the boys to learning how to make Maashi Kosa and Betingaan (stuffed zucchini and eggplant) with the ladies whilst discussing the night of conception of one of their kids. There are so many people in such a tight enclosed place that some kind of drama is usually going on, but life is lived alongside one another, they are all family and all up in each other's business cause they truly care and love each other. They serve each other constantly and are the body of Christ working together.

A week left in Port Said

Our time in Port Said serving at the Holy Family Shelter and living at the Good Shepard school and convent are coming to an end. We've had so much fun here and have been stretched inexpressibly and have tangible ways to think and pray about this place and the country of Egypt as a whole.

There's an "ABE" mentality that is so rampant here (ABE in Arabic can be translated as something that is wrong or that people highly frown upon here) and for me, the girl who was raised in the Protestant church, it's sometimes hard to listen to people who seemingly have no grace for others and judge people not according to their hearts but according to their deeds. Especially because Mariam and I are in a different culture. Let me explain, an example if you will. We went to church yesterday and Mariam was wearing a cap sleeve shirt and was about to take communion and the priest serving the wine was like, "don't wear that again. I shouldn't even give you the blood of Christ in that shirt." No cleavage people, nothing wrong with the shirt at all. In fact, it's a baggy shirt compared to the skin tight long sleeved crap everyone else is wearing. It seems as though skin tight is fine here, as long as it is long sleeve. SKIN is what people do not want to see here. There are Muslim girls all over the street wearing skin tight stuff so that anyone can define the exact contour of her body, but as soon as one of us puts on a baggy shirt that is short sleeve or skirt that does not come down to our ankles, someone's rebuking us for it.

I guess the priest was right, cause after church in Port Said, we were on the street buying parting gifts for all the girls and we were crossing the street (an adventure on it's own) and I had made it across to a kiosk we were going to buy purses from and heard an "ohh!" from Mariam. Once she gets across she screams in English, "Did you just see what happened?" and I'm like, "No, but you just blew our chance to buy anything from this dude." He heard her yelling in English and therefore was going to hike the price up for us 'foreigners'. She's like, "That man just touched my crotch!!!" Um, yes people-you heard me right. Here we are in the middle of a street in Egypt looking like the freaking Amish, and Mariam still gets groped. It's ridiculous.

Anyway, we've both begun to understand this is not our country, America is and we are foreigners here. As much as I'd love to change things, and hope that women might be allowed to wear suitable clothing for the 100 degree weather outside, it seems that it's impossible for a man to hold in his animal instinct and grab her. It's as if the whole culture (which stems from the overpowering religious laws of Islam) leans to the understanding that people are uncivilized and unless you cover yourself from head to toe, who knows what might happen. The men can't control themselves. Bullshit.

What is unfortunate is that the culture of men being superior to women and women covering up did not always exist in Egypt. In the past 40 or so years Islam has become more widespread and fundamentalist and in order for the Christians here to survive they have had to cope and evolve. We were talking to some of the older girls we work with when they told us this and I realized that survival of the fittest still exists in humanity-for Christians here to survive and live with minimal persecution, they practice several of the cultural things Muslims practice due to their religion. Basically, the only way I know a woman or man is Christian here is if the woman is not wearing a covering over her head and if she or he has a cross tattoo on their wrist. It is their way of proclaiming their faith without speaking while also suffering (from persecution) the same way Christ did as he was nailed to the cross.

The freedom in America I have experienced all my life is something I will remember to thank God for much more. I realize that my cousins have grown up every single day of their lives (because they have never left Egypt) and listened to the Muslim call for prayer 5 times a day for 25 years. Thank you Lord for the freedom to worship you-may I not take it for granted when I return home.

Bazroom Broblems and More Langauge

Here’s why going to the bathroom in Egypt is a royal pain in the ass-literally. Mariam thinks it should be an Olympic event. Agreed. To be able to squat over a toilet while making sure your pants don’t touch the soaking wet floor (don’t ask me why the bathroom floors are always, always wet) then realize there is no toilet paper and you will have to let go of one of your pant legs to reach behind you and turn on the water bidet while still keeping the squat position. It’s pretty much bathroom twister. If you’re lucky, you’ll come out with one wet pant-leg, like me at Pizza Pino in Port Said. Tisoney Illaria (who is hilarious) took us there. When we got back to The Good Shepard school/covenant where we’re staying and they asked where we went, we told them Pizza Pino. For a moment they looked confused and then one said, “oooh, Bizza Bino!” The Arabic language doesn’t have a P. So all P words become B words.

Examples. “That’s not appropriate” turns into “Zat’s not abbrobriate”
“Give me the paper” turns into “Give me za baber.”

Language Bloopers

On day two, Mariam and I are walking on the streets of Port Said with Tisoney Hailpeace and I nicely try to tell Hailpeace, “If my clothing is not conservative enough, please let me know.” The Arabic word for clothing is libs. I accidentally added one more vowel to the word changed it from clothing into underwear. At that, Mariam busts out laughing and I’m confused. Then Mariam explains to me that I told a nun, if my underwear isn’t conservative enough please tell me. It’s fine, we all have slip ups. Some are Freudian and some are not. I still think the Egyptian Sunday School teacher (who is now a priest) with a heavy Arabic accent that tried to teach a lesson to 13 year olds about gentiles-which he unforgettably called genitals the whole lesson-wins on language trip ups.

Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world and I love the younger girls we are playing with here. There are only six of them and they are like a little family helping one another. We’ve had water balloon fights, went bobbing for coke bottles (yes, coke bottles) had a watermelon contest-who can eat their piece the fastest, while spitting the seeds into a cup and then who can spit the seeds the fastest. Everyday with the older and younger girls we do exercise, mainly yoga but I implemented some kickboxing with the younger ones and they had such a good time with it that I might try it with the older girls tonight. Jesus loves those older girls too.

God give me the strength and patience to love the older girls unconditionally like you do. They are so harsh and mean with each other. There’s one girl that’s overweight and they call her a cow and tell her she’s going to die and other harsh words that hurt my heart to hear. Every time Mariam and I talk to them about it and tell them that they are hurting her feelings and not encouraging her, they say-we’re joking around, she knows we’re kidding. Bull-crap people. There’s no way the girl is gonna lose weight if you keep calling her a fat ass. She’ll just gain more because food is probably her comfort, and when she’s hurting that’s what she turns to. They don’t get it here. There’s a woman who helps run the house called Aziz who we’re having trouble with cause she puts all this crap in the girls minds. She’s the one who tells the obese girl that she is going to die because she doesn’t listen. Idiot. Mariam fights with her a lot. God bless Mariam’s Arabic. I’m really being humbled here, not getting to talk but always listening. I realize how much I like to give my opinion in America and dominate conversations because of it. Not here. I find myself understanding what everyone is saying, but if I try to put in my two cents, I disrupt the flow of the conversation because my Arabic sentences don’t make sense. Especially in deep conversations, or spiritual ones. I don’t know any spiritual words in Arabic. Wait, I take that back. Farah is joy.

What Am I doing in Egypt?

I’ve been here a week and I freaking love this place. We got here and were greeted by Sister (Tisoney in Arabic-I’ll use these words interchangeably but the one thing to know is that these nuns are not the kind that hang out in the convent all day, they serve the community) Hailpeace. Hailpeace showed us around and put us in a wing of the convent where we have our own kitchen, room with coveted air conditioning and refrigerator stocked with foods, and our own bathroom. Score.

We’re staying in a small city close to the Suez Canal called Port Fouad. It’s just a ferry ride across to larger Port Said and the two cities seem somehow connected or interchangeable. So the weather here is beautiful. Because we are on the beach there’s a light breeze and it makes the weather beautiful and sunny.

We’ve ventured to Port Said a few times and been to the beach. Once just to hang out with one of the Tisonys (Batoole is her name) and speak in English with her (which is absolutely fine with me because my Arabic is apparently horrible and only now when I’m forced to use it if I want to talk to people do I realize how much I blow. Tisoney Batoole prefers I speak in English, in her broken English she explains, I understand your English better than Arabic. Fine Tisoney. Side note, I think we’re here for the Tisonys. Sure, we’re here to play with encourage and build up all of the girls (old and young, mentally handicapped and elderly) but we’re only here for 3 weeks. More than that, I know these women are working so hard, and I think and hope we are bringing them some new joy and fresh ideas and encouragement. They are all freaking awesome. Sweetest little ladies ever, but all hilarious and full of fire. Example.. We’re giving English class to the nuns and one of the Nuns is answering one of our questions correctly-another Nun, Tisoney Illaria says, “what’s this? Studying behind our backs? I’ll kill you.” Baller that woman. I remember her name cause Illaria is hilarious. It kinda rhymes if you change the s at the end of hilarious into an a.

“What the crap have you been doing over there Sarah?” you ask. A lot, dude, a lot. Here’s what an average day here looks like. Wake up at 6:15 am and get ready church at 6:45. After church we eat and then we’re off to play with the little girls (8-15) from 10-12. Then at noon we go hang out with the mentally disabled-there are 3 girls and they are all hilarious each one with an awesome personality. I could hang out with these ladies all day long, seriously. Then twice a week we have tea with the elderly (men and women) who also live in the shelter we serve at. Then we go back to our place (the Good Shepherd School and convent) and eat something and hang out a bit then head back to the Shelter and hang out with the older girls for 2 hours each night. We've gotten to spend time with a lot of people and I'm not gonna lie-by the end of the night around 10, I'm freaking beat. But I love it here, a lot and I'll be really sad when I leave.