Two Weeks of Learning, Connection, and Creativity at the HUP Educational Space in Cairo

In this blog, our volunteer Karen shares her reflections on the two weeks she spent at the Hands Up Educational Space in Cairo, working alongside our students and fellow volunteer Tony.

We turned off the bustling high street with its tuk-tuks, goats, cows, and numerous shops, and walked down the dirt track road between high-rise buildings to the one containing the school. The lift with no door played the Koran, soothing any nerves as we ascended to the thirteenth floor. As we entered the school for the first time, a board to the left of the door caught my eye. On it were pinned wishes written by the students. It struck me immediately that this school would in some ways be very different from any I had previously visited. How could it be that a child had written: “I want to live in peace with my family”?

Before I had a chance to think much more about this, the students started shuffling in. They were all ages, from preschool to late teens. Some boys wore favourite branded T-shirts and football tops, and sported cool haircuts. The older girls were more demure under their hijabs, the younger ones still expressing themselves through their clothing and hair. Most had mobile phones. The students eyed us curiously, but were soon keen to practise greetings in English. I quickly learned not to offer a handshake to adolescent boys, just as Tony was unable to do the same with older girls and the teachers.

English speaking ability varied hugely amongst the group, from students who had taught themselves by watching videos and were able to communicate at a high level, to those who knew very little. We could see how hard it was for Afnan, the English teacher, to teach a group that varied so much in age and ability. Tony and I had recently trained as CELTA (teaching English as a foreign language) teachers, and were keen to use those skills. At first, we acted as spare pairs of hands supporting individual children as they did the exercises in the textbook, but Afnan quickly felt confident to let us plan and deliver lessons with her support.

There was far more to our time at the school than teaching English, however. Tony set up chess matches whilst teaching interested onlookers the basic moves. We taught an increasingly boisterous group to play spoons. Books, toys, and phones became props enabling interactions with children of all ages, whether they spoke English or not. We helped them with their, at times movingly thoughtful, letters to children in Mexico: I was astonished at the level of sharing of emotion and empathy that went between the young people from such different cultures.

The learning experience went both ways. I was shown how to wear a head scarf the Palestinian way, and how to cross the crazy roads Cairo-style. Afnan taught us tuk-tuk etiquette. We were treated to a delicious traditional Palestinian breakfast by Doua with falafel, sweet sage tea, and olives so spicy we were gasping for water.

One day, students and staff brought in home-cooked food, the traditional Palestinian upside-downrice dish of maqloba, pasta and pizzas with a Middle Eastern twist, and the gorgeous, not too-sweet chocolate pudding Bavaria. Eating was followed by dancing and singing traditional Palestinian songs, and reminded me of the vital function that the school served, of helping the students remember their proud shared history.

Beyond our time at the school, Cairo was huge fun to visit. We rented an apartment in Giza so that we could walk to and from the school. The morning journey was a delight as we passed bakeries, falafel stalls, street vendors, and dodged the traffic. The streetwise stray dogs everywhere were tolerated and at times fed by locals, and seemed to play an important role in the informal recycling of food waste that went on in the streets. Away from the tourist attractions, we saw almost no other Westerners as we wandered through the side streets. The entire neighbourhood appeared to be out enjoying the cool of the evenings, men smoking shisha pipes in dark cafes and women with children in the juice bars. People were friendly and polite, and would often simply call out “Welcome to Egypt”.

Karen Gilmore