Reading is a Luxury
Reading is a Luxury
Teri Peterson from Cairo, Egypt
February 19, 2006
I have been thinking a lot lately about reading. Reading is probably my most favorite leisure activity, and is something I do a lot of. It is also something that not many Egyptians do. Part of the reason for that is simply that the illiteracy rate is so high—statistics (notoriously unreliable in Egypt, the land of “make it look better” under-reporting) suggest that 60% of women and 30% of men cannot read, and that those numbers are rising. While I don’t know the breakdown of those percentages between religions, I would guess that the illiteracy rate is relatively well-distributed between Christian and Muslim. And though I would like to think that in the Presbyterian Church the rate is lower (Presbyterians are all about education, after all), I have no statistics to support that hope—only a history of school building!
60 percent of women cannot read—wow. That is a staggering number to me. How does one get through life without being able to read? I learned to read when I was four years old, and I don’t think I’ve stopped since then. I practically inhale books (except for books that are homework!). I read everything that passes in front of my eyes. I cannot even imagine what it must be like to be unable to even read street signs. Granted, I get a tiny sense of this because I am definitely not fluent in Arabic, but even with only one month of study I can read Arabic words. Well, I can sound them out and occasionally stumble on a word I know, but at least I can read the letters. 60 percent of women here can’t even do that. Yes, Arabic is a difficult language, but it is the native language here. The two women who clean Dawson Hall for us, Naadia and Martha, cannot read. When we ask them to go to the suuq for us, we have to tell them everything orally because they could not read a list. Luckily for us, they are patient with our steep Arabic learning curve and they know where to find anything we ask for. But the fact that these two women cannot read is simply astounding to me.
As I have thought about the simple fact that most women in Egypt can’t read, I have begun to think more about two other things. First, my job here—which is primarily to read stories to first graders. The stunning illiteracy rate has given new meaning to my work here. Though I recognize that girls in schools are obviously not illiterate, I also recognize that for these girls, reading storybooks may be a luxury they won’t often have time for when they get older. Perhaps by reading to them now, and by teaching them to read, they can both get used to reading as something important and fun, and also potentially be a force for change in their country as they get older. These 240 girls will not grow up to be a part of the 60% of women in Egypt. Perhaps instead they will grow up to be teachers, tutors, and good mothers who will emphasize the importance of reading and writing, who will help others to get the education they need and deserve. The weekly story time is not just about the latest techniques in storytelling, it’s not just about getting the girls out of their classroom and exposed to the library, it’s not just about whether they think the story is “very nice.” It is about all of those things, but it’s more about the fact that by reading to these girls, and helping them to read for themselves, something is changing. Something inside these girls is changing—knowing how to read and enjoying it will change these girls, their mindset, maybe their neighbors, maybe their lives, and maybe even their country.
The second thing I have been thinking about is what it means to be a Reformed Protestant Christian or a pastor in an environment where most people can’t read? Reading the Bible for myself was a key part of the Holy Spirit’s work in my life—reading the Bible is what took me to church. And continuing to read it is what guides my life and my sense of call. As a Reformed Protestant Christian, it is important to me that people can read the scripture for themselves…but here, most people can’t do that, not in any language. Meanwhile, I can read the whole Bible in English, the Old Testament in Hebrew, and the New Testament in Greek…plus a few select sections in Latin or in French and one little bit (the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew) in Arabic. Some of the YAVs here in Egypt are participating in the “Bible in 90 Days” program—we will have read the entire Bible, from Genesis to Revelation—by the beginning of May. But 60 % of Egyptian women couldn’t do that if they wanted to. What does that mean for their Christian faith, and what does that mean for their pastors? I wish I had answers, but of course—I don’t.
This is a culture that operates in a very top-down manner. Unfortunately, if many of the people in the church cannot read, that also means that the Evangelical Church here has to operate in the same way. Pastors have a lot of authority here. People are willing to let the pastor do anything he wants, and they will likely believe everything he says, especially about the Bible. He can read, he can study the Bible, he has knowledge “regular” Christians don’t have, and that knowledge translates into power over the people. This is not the Reformed ideal, but it is the reality. How much good…and how much harm…a pastor can do! If the people you serve can’t read for themselves, where is the questioning, the people’s theology, the accountability? How will anyone know if the pastor is crossing the line and using the Bible to hurt people or to force them into submission of his own ideology or ideas? It troubles me, as a pastor and as a Christian, that the pastor here has so much power over the people in the church.
And so, at the end of all this musing, there are no answers, only more questions. But there is a sense, for me anyway, that my favorite hobby is an amazing gift that millions of people lack. It is a luxury most people can’t afford—because good education is expensive, many think that for girls it isn’t worth the money and time, and besides that there is a lot of work to be done and reading takes away from working. I also have a sense that my ability to share my love for reading is a gift that I can give to at least 240 girls who will one day be, hopefully, part of a better statistic than the one I know today.
ma’a salaama,
Teri
PS Remember: You can keep up with my daily/weekly life in Egypt by checking out my website: http://clevertitlehere.blogspot.com.
Teri Peterson from Cairo, Egypt
February 19, 2006
I have been thinking a lot lately about reading. Reading is probably my most favorite leisure activity, and is something I do a lot of. It is also something that not many Egyptians do. Part of the reason for that is simply that the illiteracy rate is so high—statistics (notoriously unreliable in Egypt, the land of “make it look better” under-reporting) suggest that 60% of women and 30% of men cannot read, and that those numbers are rising. While I don’t know the breakdown of those percentages between religions, I would guess that the illiteracy rate is relatively well-distributed between Christian and Muslim. And though I would like to think that in the Presbyterian Church the rate is lower (Presbyterians are all about education, after all), I have no statistics to support that hope—only a history of school building!
60 percent of women cannot read—wow. That is a staggering number to me. How does one get through life without being able to read? I learned to read when I was four years old, and I don’t think I’ve stopped since then. I practically inhale books (except for books that are homework!). I read everything that passes in front of my eyes. I cannot even imagine what it must be like to be unable to even read street signs. Granted, I get a tiny sense of this because I am definitely not fluent in Arabic, but even with only one month of study I can read Arabic words. Well, I can sound them out and occasionally stumble on a word I know, but at least I can read the letters. 60 percent of women here can’t even do that. Yes, Arabic is a difficult language, but it is the native language here. The two women who clean Dawson Hall for us, Naadia and Martha, cannot read. When we ask them to go to the suuq for us, we have to tell them everything orally because they could not read a list. Luckily for us, they are patient with our steep Arabic learning curve and they know where to find anything we ask for. But the fact that these two women cannot read is simply astounding to me.
As I have thought about the simple fact that most women in Egypt can’t read, I have begun to think more about two other things. First, my job here—which is primarily to read stories to first graders. The stunning illiteracy rate has given new meaning to my work here. Though I recognize that girls in schools are obviously not illiterate, I also recognize that for these girls, reading storybooks may be a luxury they won’t often have time for when they get older. Perhaps by reading to them now, and by teaching them to read, they can both get used to reading as something important and fun, and also potentially be a force for change in their country as they get older. These 240 girls will not grow up to be a part of the 60% of women in Egypt. Perhaps instead they will grow up to be teachers, tutors, and good mothers who will emphasize the importance of reading and writing, who will help others to get the education they need and deserve. The weekly story time is not just about the latest techniques in storytelling, it’s not just about getting the girls out of their classroom and exposed to the library, it’s not just about whether they think the story is “very nice.” It is about all of those things, but it’s more about the fact that by reading to these girls, and helping them to read for themselves, something is changing. Something inside these girls is changing—knowing how to read and enjoying it will change these girls, their mindset, maybe their neighbors, maybe their lives, and maybe even their country.
The second thing I have been thinking about is what it means to be a Reformed Protestant Christian or a pastor in an environment where most people can’t read? Reading the Bible for myself was a key part of the Holy Spirit’s work in my life—reading the Bible is what took me to church. And continuing to read it is what guides my life and my sense of call. As a Reformed Protestant Christian, it is important to me that people can read the scripture for themselves…but here, most people can’t do that, not in any language. Meanwhile, I can read the whole Bible in English, the Old Testament in Hebrew, and the New Testament in Greek…plus a few select sections in Latin or in French and one little bit (the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew) in Arabic. Some of the YAVs here in Egypt are participating in the “Bible in 90 Days” program—we will have read the entire Bible, from Genesis to Revelation—by the beginning of May. But 60 % of Egyptian women couldn’t do that if they wanted to. What does that mean for their Christian faith, and what does that mean for their pastors? I wish I had answers, but of course—I don’t.
This is a culture that operates in a very top-down manner. Unfortunately, if many of the people in the church cannot read, that also means that the Evangelical Church here has to operate in the same way. Pastors have a lot of authority here. People are willing to let the pastor do anything he wants, and they will likely believe everything he says, especially about the Bible. He can read, he can study the Bible, he has knowledge “regular” Christians don’t have, and that knowledge translates into power over the people. This is not the Reformed ideal, but it is the reality. How much good…and how much harm…a pastor can do! If the people you serve can’t read for themselves, where is the questioning, the people’s theology, the accountability? How will anyone know if the pastor is crossing the line and using the Bible to hurt people or to force them into submission of his own ideology or ideas? It troubles me, as a pastor and as a Christian, that the pastor here has so much power over the people in the church.
And so, at the end of all this musing, there are no answers, only more questions. But there is a sense, for me anyway, that my favorite hobby is an amazing gift that millions of people lack. It is a luxury most people can’t afford—because good education is expensive, many think that for girls it isn’t worth the money and time, and besides that there is a lot of work to be done and reading takes away from working. I also have a sense that my ability to share my love for reading is a gift that I can give to at least 240 girls who will one day be, hopefully, part of a better statistic than the one I know today.
ma’a salaama,
Teri
PS Remember: You can keep up with my daily/weekly life in Egypt by checking out my website: http://clevertitlehere.blogspot.com.
posted by Teri | 9:38 AM
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