Happy New Year

Although mom placed little importance, if any, on New Year's Eve/Day, I wish you all a very happy new year. On this occasion I promise to try harder than ever to keep my resolutions, and to do my very best to collect whatever facts, stories, fables, and tall tales belong here, on this blog.

The Chocolate Cow Cake

This was the cake mom made for my 5th birthday. The art is hers.

Requiem for a Sandwich

I just realized that I will never again have the world's best sandwich.

You may or not know this, but mom often made her own mayonnaise, ketchup, bread, yogurt, jam, ice cream, and (pay attention, this is important:) her own pickled lemons. She didn't do this out of thriftiness, but because her products were always so much better than anything else out there, and because she was an unabashed show-off. Too bad we, her children, paid so little attention to her culinary wizardry. In that regard, at least, we were spoiled rotten.

Mom's pickled lemons were sublime. I don't know the recipe, but I do know that she used plenty of safflower and nigella sativa seed (habbet el-Baraka), and that they were always covered with a thick layer of extra virgin olive oil to protect the pickles. After she prepared each gallon jar, she would set it aside in a dark corner to metamorphose. By the time some inquisitive soul (usually me) found them, they might have been there for a year. By then, the lemons were so soft you could literally spread them with a butter knife. Oh man, they were good! They had no pickle sting or sharp edge, just a full and sophisticated flavor, and rich, layered, aftertastes that came in waves.

My favorite sandwich in the world is two slabs of mom's home-made bread, a layer of the best Danish butter, a hot hard-boiled egg (with the yolks slightly runny), and a layer of her pickled lemons.

Alas.

Linda Oldham, Street Fighter

Many moons ago, in what must have been 1992 or so, my mother, her Danish friend Marianne Blegvad, Aziza, Osman, Sarah, my friend Ahmed Sami, and I, were walking down the narrow street we lived on, when a crazy fool of a man in his fifties zoomed past us at breakneck speed. As he drove past us, he hit Aziza, who fell screaming to the ground.

Then he turned around, looked, and laughed.

This was far too much for my hot-blooded 22-year-old self. Blood boiling, I launched myself after the man’s car. As it turned out, the man lived just two buildings away from us and was on his way home, so it was easy enough for me to catch up with him. I had him half outside the car window, slapping him back and forth, when what seemed like the entire neighborhood’s population of young men showed up to defend the man, who it later transpired, was an Egyptian army general who had helped all the neighbors’ boys out of mandatory military service. Soon, I was looking at an angry mob of young men who only knew that the foreigner boy was beating up their esteemed benefactor.

I managed to hold off the mob just enough to get them up the stairs to mom’s house (where I intended to run inside and shut the door) from which Aziza’s screaming was emanating. At this point, the man’s son grabbed the scruff of my neck and began dragging me backwards down the stairs. I punched him as hard as I could, right in the eye.

And all hell broke loose.

For several minutes, I held my own quite well against what mom swears were more than thirty people. I bloodied enough noses and lips that a significant number of the participants lost interest or otherwise backed off. The fight was so loud that it attracted the attention of the chief of the local police station, who actually came to see what was going on. When he was told that this was a fight between a US citizen and an Egyptian army general, he decided that he wanted no part of it, and that he would wait until the matter was brought to him (discretion is the better part of valor; this could easily have turned into an international incident, right in his lap).

Ten minutes later, I had reduced the number of combatants considerably. I swear to you that I was holding my own, if not quite winning. I was heroic. I was bold. I was intrepid and strong. I stood alone against the hordes, giving far better than I received…

…until mom came out and won the fight for me.

Mom, you see, had, in her inimitable way, mobilized the women of the entire building. They came—landlady, friends, neighbors, servants, and all—with hoses and pots of water. They then proceeded to spray, douse, drench, and soak all the men. The men, who had stoically taken all the abuse I could mete out, were unable to handle the handful of angry women with their pots of water. Incidentally, I stayed dry as a bone.

They ran, screaming, like little girls.

That day, I learned a couple of things: 1) I could hold my own against 30 angry men; and 2) mom had more courage than any twenty people I know. That woman was so brave that she actually carried a pot of water into a mess of angry, swearing, bloodied Middle Eastern men who felt that they were defending their honor. She threw the water in their faces. She told them to get the hell out of her yard. She stood her ground. And she won.

I gained a new esteem for myself that day, but it is nothing compared to the humility I felt as a result of the inestimably higher respect I gained for my mother, my hero.

Incidentally, Aziza was (mostly) ok. She suffered a twisted ankle, a few bruises, and a wounded dignity.

I Have No Idea...

...but my guess is that this was taken when mom was getting bored with Nadir practicing photography on her.

El-Hagg Mahmoud

One day in 2000, mom took me through the back streets of Khan El-Khalili in Cairo to the hidden but well-stocked edifice of a man who goes by the pious name of "El Hagg Mahmoud." The name indicates that the man is a good Muslim who had performed the Hajj, or the annual pilgrimage to Mecca. It is one of the peculiarities of Cairean life that the local population found it not the least bit odd that the self-proclaimed pious man should specialize in providing belly-dance costumes and related whimsical accoutrements to the highest class of belly dancer and painted lady in Egypt, which is what he did. El Hagg Mahmoud, in fact, was a purveyor of beaded scarves (a la Shakira, who is rumored [mostly by me] to buy her garments from him), veils, harem pants, candelabra hats (ask me), and, of course, belly dance costumes, to a wide variety of clientèle, from dance troupes to belly dancers, and from well-heeled tourists to elite members of the demimonde.

Mom, of course, loved the place; she had been a customer for years to the four-storey store. "It is true," she told me, "that you can buy the same items from other stores at half the price, but nowhere else do you have the chance to meet such interesting people."

That's mom for you, in a nutshell.

Christmas in September

This is the story of Ragia's first Christmas celebration as Mrs. Jake Lester and, indeed, at all.

In the year 2000, mom was in Egypt for work, and she had brought Sarah with her. While she was there, Ragia and I got married, and both Mom and Sarah attended our wedding, but that is another story.

For the duration of mom's project, mom and Sarah stayed at the Flamenco Hotel in Zamalek, which was always her favorite hotel. When we asked them to stay with us for a few days after the project was over, mom readily accepted, and Sarah and mom came to stay with us for a few days--perhaps as much as a week. While staying with us, mom and Sarah waxed sentimental about the fact that Ragia, Farah and I would not be able to join them for Christmas that year. So they decided that we would have a special one-time-only early Christmas celebration.

To this end, mom and Sarah went shopping for food and gifts, and they returned to create a feast. Mom made a special lamb pot pie with a flaky crust that both Ragia and I can still almost taste, so sublime was it. After we ate, mom brought out her famous cookies, and then she and Sarah presented us with fantastic gifts that were, as usual, ones that only mom would think to give. Sarah, always the artist, performed her gift-wrapping wizardry on them, making them larger than life and twice as beautiful. Mom gave me a beautiful brass stained glass lantern, Farah got a fancy bead bracelet, and Ragia was given a gorgeous handwoven Indian tie-died scarf. Unapologetic sentimental idiots all, there was not a dry eye in the house.

This was, no doubt, the most memorable Christmas Ragia, Farah and I ever celebrated, or ever will, despite the fact that there was no tree, no Christmas music, and that the date was in mid-September!

Merry Christmas, mom. Merry Christmas, Sarah. Merry Christmas, everybody.

God Bless Us, Everyone.

The author is currently busy celebrating Christmas, remembering mom, opening presents, listening to mom's copy of Amahl and the Night Visitors, and generally wishing we were all together this year.

If you are bored with this entry, sit tight, for tomorrow Ragia and I will tell you about Mom's Christmas in September.

Merry Christmas, Eid, Festivus, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or other Holiday.

Exceptional Linda

Here is a photograph of mom at her most elegant. Of course, mom was always a very elegant woman, just as she was a marvelous cook (Sylvia's stories notwithstanding). She was also an exceptional woman, both in the sense that she was exceptional as a human being, and in that she had exceptions to every one of her own rules.

For example, everything that Linda wore was very stylish and tasteful, from cashmere to raw silk, except for her jeans, which were always horridly and obviously cheap and looked as if they had come from rummage sales (which, in all likelihood, they had).

As a cook, she was sublime, her duck was (eventually) out of this world, and she showed an unparalleled mastery of turkey. But I shudder to think about the chicken. Really. Ask Sarah, Aziza, or Osman.

Burning the Duck

This is the first time I have passed 24 hours without posting (but not by much). My excuse is that I am sick and exhausted. I am posting this at 3:00 a.m.

This is another of Sylvia's marvelous stories that are not only very good in that they are very funny and strongly evocative, but very well written also.

Sylvia says:

Then, there was the night she set the duck on fire. We spent our first Christmas away from our childhood homes in New York and she wanted to do something festive. With no parents to stop us, we had already opened our Christmas presents from our families at least a week earlier. So she bought a duck, and invited a few others over for Christmas dinner. We did not, however, have a pan to cook the duck in. Ever enterprising, she took a sheet of cardboard and wrapped it in aluminum foil, placed the duck on it, and put it in the oven. In case you don’t know, as we didn’t, ducks are very fatty, and the fat pours off during roasting. The duck fat quickly caught fire, as did the cardboard and the duck.

We were miraculously able to extinguish the fire, but apparently, there was a lot of whooping. A little boy in the neighborhood whom Linge had befriended, heard our shouting, and began scaling the wall outside to look in our window to see whether we were alright. A policeman walking by, saw the little boy, and hauled him down. When the boy gave him his explanation, the officer brought him to our apartment to verify whether the boy was telling the truth. She confirmed it, and later began dating the police officer. The police officer introduced her to a giant, but that’s another story.

Linda with Flowers

I don't know much about this photograph, but I can tell that it was taken at the old house at Kirkland Drive. That house will be the subject of at least one article in the future. For now, though, just enjoy the photograph. I know that it isn't the best technically, but it really is beautiful, all the same.

Sylvia - 4

More from that wonderful email from Sylvia:

On another occasion, Alan ordered mussels, another food neither of us had any experience with. The only thing she knew is that one shouldn’t cook dead ones. She poured the paper bag of live mussels into the bathroom sink and stationed me on the toilet seat with the job of culling out dead ones by poking them with the tip of a paring knife. If they didn’t close up they must be dead, and I was to discard them. Linge cooked the remainder of live ones. Of course, she didn’t know how to cook them, but had heard, perhaps from Alan, that they should be cooked quickly. She put them on a cookie sheet, popped them in the oven, and just as quickly popped them back out. She then put some of these barely dead and completely unadorned mussels on plates. I don’t think I could even eat one with their disgusting shiny, wiggly yellow sacks, particularly following my recent life and death encounters with them. I think she gamely ate two. The remainder met a more immediate dispatch than the tongue.

All of these stories are hilarious, considering that mom was a fantastic cook (except for the chicken, but that is another story).

Mom's Annual Performance Review

Today was the day my boss sat down with me to talk about my annual performance review. I was pleasantly surprised that I was given an "Exceeded Expectations" rating that was given to "less than a handful" of my colleagues, to quote my boss. Among the comments in the written report are:

Expertise: Jake's knowledge of the Middle [East], its culture, religion, history, politics and related security issues is exceptional. He is an excellent Arabic linguist with native capability in a variety of dialects as well as an excellent analyst, who has demonstrated that he can identify connections among entities and events to derive deeper meaning from data.

Communication skills: Jake receives universally high marks for his communication skills. Jake consistently produces quality reports, briefs, and other communications for a variety of projects and customers...he is a solid writer whose drafts require minimal editing. Jake applies his extensive knowledge of Middle Eastern issues and explains them in a way that leaves no doubt in the reader's mind about the meaning of some piece of information.

Flexibility: Jake adapts quickly to changing project requirements and performs well and consistently with minimal supervision. He responds rapidly to short-notice requests for information, and adjusts his priorities to assist with others' duties when necessary.

Innovation: Jake looks for ways to improve processes and products, and demonstrates creativity in his approach to solving the issues faced by [the customers].

Yes, I am blowing my own horn. There is, however, a point to all of this other than my ego. Throughout the meeting with my boss, as she was praising me, I kept thinking that the characteristics and skills I was being commended for were ones that mom almost effortlessly possessed throughout her personal and professional life. What Alexa and my peer reviewers find praiseworthy are the values that mom instilled in me. In essence, even though they knew it not, Alexa and my peers were praising my mother, Linda Kay Oldham, not me.

My mother died penniless, but she still left me an inheritance that is not only valuable in a moral and sentimental sense, but in a real income-earning and difference-making sense.

Thank you, Mom. For everything. I wish you knew how proud I am of you.

More from Sylvia Luppert

Dear Jake,

Thank you for your emails. I, too, cannot believe that we have not spoken, at least since you were four years old. When I visited Linge in Chapel Hill, you were first in Egypt and then in Iraq. I hope we'll have the opportunity to meet again in the next few months or years. I do plan to telephone as soon as I have the chance. From your blog and emails I can see that you are as interesting and talented as your mother said you are.

I, too, was fearful for Linge's health. The last time I saw her, two years ago at Thanksgiving, she was very thin. I assumed she had simply dieted. But she insisted that she was the same size she had always been, even though she clearly wasn't. And you know, better than I, that once she asserted a fact as a fact, there was no point in pursuing one's disagreement. The last time we spoke, shortly after her birthday this summer, she sounded awful. And I knew she was depressed. I didn't know, however, how serious her situation was. For example, I didn't know she couldn't travel alone. I am so regretful that I didn't call her more often.

I am sure that even though she must have been acutely distressed about her inability to work, she would have clung to her life for your sake, and for the sake of her other children and grandchildren. She was not emotive, as you know, but I was. and am, convinced that the primary center of her life was all of you.

I thought, when I first went to your blog, the same thing you expressed. That is, she would be outwardly disdainful of the fuss over her, but would be secretly extremely pleased. Certainly as her friend, I am extremely pleased by it.

I have attached a photograph taken at my wedding. Linge came from Chapel Hill to Chicago. She was pregnant with you. On the morning of the wedding she had a pregnancy disaster. Her belly button popped out and her dress was a very light weight fabric, through which her popped out belly button showed. I'm not sure whether she even knew that such a thing could happen. I didn't. We tried taping it down with band-aids, and must have succeeded. As you can see, she was radiantly beautiful.

Sylvia

Note from Jake: This is not the full email, but I removed a very little of it.

Alan Lomax and Sauteed Tongue

Another installment from Sylvia Luppert's first email:

During our time in New York, Linge worked for Alan Lomax, the great American musicologist. He was engaged by Columbia University to study the connections between culture and music. She was his office manager. She met many of the luminaries of folk music during that period. Also during this period, she embarked on a weird crusade to learn to cook. She admired Alan Lomax’s sophisticated tastes in food and knowledge of cuisines. We both had meat and potatoes upbringings, but Alan Lomax took her to lunch frequently, and these lunches frequently inspired her cooking. Although we didn’t own a cookbook, she was unafraid to try the most exotic dish (at least exotic to us.) At one lunch, Alan had tongue. Our mothers never cooked tongue and we had never tasted tongue.

She brought home a big ugly cows tongue that made me, at least, nauseous to behold it. It had taste buds all over it! Not having previous experience with cooking or eating tongue, she sliced it and sauteed it. (Tongue, properly cooked, must be boiled for hours.) The tongue she served was as tough as you could imagine, and it was covered with - yuck - taste buds. I probably had no more than a couple of bites. She gamely ate the entire slice. The uncooked part of the tongue went in the freezer for the remainder of our time in that apartment.

Those are NOT Guys

Ragia and Farah just told me that Rachael Ray* annoyed mom by calling food items "guys," as in "and I'll just sprinkle some salt on these guys (indicating her vegetables)." She also disliked Paula Deen's habit of calling all meats "him" (or maybe that's just me).

She really liked Emeril, though.

* For those who are fortunate enough to live in homes not addicted to US Cable TV channel the Food Network, Rachael Ray, Paula Deen, and Emeril LeGasse are TV celebrity chefs.

Chicken Legs

Here is one of the stories that Sylvia sent me:

In spring or summer 1965, [Linda] moved to New York City, and in late summer, I joined her there. We rented a small apartment a few buildings off Central Park West on 84^th. While Central Park West was an elegant address, ours was less so. The following spring, we moved to an even less elegant address on 81^st and Amsterdam – a dump, actually. The neighborhood was poor and comprised largely of Puerto Ricans, new immigrants, and poor students. She was on a first name basis with many of the neighbors and shopkeepers, and if I was recognized at all, it was only as Linge’s roommate. While I was generally received politely, she was always greeted with great warmth. People just seemed to take to her and enjoy her company. I suppose that this quality, in part, accounts for her talent as an anthropologist. She did receive one unfriendly epithet from some of the young men of the neighborhood when she ignored their attentions while walking down the street. "Chicken legs!" While this might be quite insulting to a women with thin legs, Linge had rather sturdy, heavy legs. She was very amused by this.

Janet, Carla, Aziza, Osman, and Sarah: Comments on this one, please. The Oldham legs called chicken legs.

HAHAHHAAAHAHAAAAAAHHAAAA!

Sylvia Luppert

Note: Before you read this wonderful email that I received today from Sylvia Luppert, one of my mother's oldest friends, I want you to know that it was much longer than what you see below. In her email, Sylvia included a number of stories, each of which merits its own post, so I removed the paragraphs that contained the stories so that I may turn them into individual posts. Other than that, I have changed nothing.

Sylvia, I cannot thank you enough.

Dear Jake,

I am so very sad to learn of your mother’s death, both for myself and for you and your brother and sisters. She was one of my oldest and dearest friends. Marshall Froker wrote to me after he received your email and he forwarded your email to me.

Linge and I first met when I began attending Antioch College in 1963. We called her Linge, and that is the name I’ve always called her. We lived in the same dorm. She was just starting her second year. I was from Spokane, Washington and felt like a country bumpkin next to her despite her growing up in Columbia, Missouri. Her intelligence, sophistication, and bluntness both frightened me and fascinated me. For reasons which I still do not understand, she took me under her wing. I followed her around like an acolyte. By the time I left Antioch the following spring, we had become fast friends. I suspect that our attendance at Antioch influenced us both throughout our lives. Certainly, my relationship with her was one of the most important in my formative years, and my experience at Antioch is inseparable from my friendship with her. I continue to try to evaluate the events in the world, both major and mundane, with a perspective I first observed in her. In many ways, she taught me to think. She was, of course, a brilliant thinker and one I could only try to emulate but not match. While she was truly a critical thinker she viewed the world and all of us in it with humor and humanity.

Our New York adventure ended and I went back to Washington and she went back to Yellow Springs. She eventually married Bill Curtis and moved to Chicago. In the summer of 1968, I moved to Chicago and in with Linge and Bill. I arrived the same day Martin Luther King was assassinated. She and Bill split up, but I stayed. By then she was an accomplished cook. We were roommates for about a year. She eventually moved to North Carolina where her mother was living, met and married your father and opened a restaurant called "Tijuana Fats." We continued to write to each other.

When you were about four years old, she came to Chicago to spend Christmas with me. It was the only time I met you because she soon got a position at the University of Alexandria, and you know the rest. I do know, and you may not, that you got her through some difficult times when she was first in Egypt. She bragged that you learned Arabic so quickly that she took you everywhere to translate for her. She even took you to the bank so that you, as a little boy, could conduct her banking. She also reported that your charm put her in good standing with the people she met.

I learned through letters of the births of Aziza, Osman, and Sarah. I was frankly flabbergasted by her having so many children. But she indeed loved all of you. She visited me once in Seattle, and I visited her twice in North Carolina. We spoke on the telephone, but not as often as I now wish we had. She always spoke of you and thought she had the brightest and most beautiful children that anyone ever had.

I loved your mother very much. While I suppose we are all unique in our own way, she was by far, unique and wonderful in the world. She was always a clear and deep thinker who I so admired. And she was warm and witty and so much fun to be with. I know my life was enriched by our friendship. Although the loss to you and Aziza, Osman, and Sarah is terrible, I hope you will appreciate your good fortune to be her children. She was fortunate to have you. As rich and interesting as her life was, I know that nothing in the world mattered to her as much as her children. And that, I think, says a lot about her and all of you.

Please convey my condolences to Aziza, Osman, and Sarah. I do hope that we will stay in touch.

Sylvia Luppert

Pictures from Leif

My mother's friend Leif Pareli sent me a number of scanned photographs that he took in Cairo in 1976 and 1977. Here is the first of them (yes, I intend to stretch this out as much as possible). This one was taken in front of the building at 3, Mohamed Sidqi Pasha St., Bab-el-Louq, Cairo. This is the same address where the story of the sparkler and the chicken man took place. The man in the back is my former stepfather, Nadir, for those of you who do not know him. The object in my hand is a Christmas present I received that year; it was a plastic calendar that operated mechanically by pressing spring-loaded buttons.



This one was taken within minutes of the first. The good-looking Nordic man is Leif himself. The picture must have been taken by Nadir.



Incidentally, Ragia says that everything mom is wearing in the photos, including mom's red suede jacket, is back in fashion. So is Leif's jacket!

The photographs were scanned by Leif. If you click on them, you will get the photos in the sizes that he sent me.

You can see Leif's website at http://home.online.no/~pareli.

Bechir Chourou

After multiple attempts, I finally managed to get in touch with mom's old friend Bechir Chourou, who lives in Tunis.

(As it turns out, Sarah had already successfully contacted him. Perhaps I should let Sarah know what I am doing, once in a while. This might be wise, considering that she has mom's address books, and the latest of her email archives. Duh!)

Bechir said:

"I have already heard about Linge (that's how I call your mom) - your sister Sarah sent me the sad news. I still can get over her passing away. With her went away the memories of my best years in the US, the best years of my life. I know that eventually we are all bound to die but somehow I always thought that we would depart together just as we have lived together for over 40 years. In fact I met Linge in 1966 when we were undergrads at Roosevelt U. in Chicago: it seems it was yesterday. I miss her and will miss her terribly."

and:

"Linge used to read everything I wrote, not only to correct my punctuation (she had to conclude that I was beyond redemption in that area, and I think she was right, but then punctuation is English is weird!) but, more importantly, to contest some of my ideas. Her comments will be sorely missed."

Bechir, whom I have not seen in more than 25 years, is partly responsible for some of my fondest memories, which took place in Tunis. I submit, as evidence of the generosity of this man and his family, that my mother and I lived at his mother's house in Tunis on three separate occasions, for several moths each time. This blog contains other stories about Bechir's mother, whose name I just don't know--she was always El-Hajja to me. Someday humanity just might evolve a language that contains words that can adequately describe the magnificence that was this woman's cooking.

This is the type of friend that my mother had. I should be so lucky.

Pavel and Maria from Urgench, Uzbekistan

Yesterday I sent an email to a number of email addresses I found on Mom's old computer, in an attempt to inform her friends that mom had died. I have since received a number of responses. All responses I received are special, of course, but here is one that is an especially good eulogy:

Dear Good Jake Lester!

My deepest condolences upon the untimely decease of Your beloved Mother. May Her Soul be blessed by God, and rest in peace in the eternal Heavenly House of God.
We all who knew Her deeply regret in our hearts and souls. Her bright good Image will stay in our hearts and souls all our lives. She was really the best Mother and Woman on earth.

I’m Pavel from Uzbekistan, Urgench city. Me and especially my niece Maria used to work with our dearest Linda in 1999-2000, 2003 here in Uzbekistan, Urgench city (the Province of Khorezm) in the World Bank development projects. She was very good to us, she was a very careful and generous boss, teacher for us, the one we’ve never met again. Sarah also knows us, for she also was here at the time.

Thank You very much for Your e-mail. May God be with You, and may he bless, help, protect, reward You and all Your family in all Your ways and endeavours wherever You are, whatever You do! Life is going on! Keep well and be a joyful and happiest human being on earth.

With best wishes and love
Yours faithfully,
Pavel and Maria from Urgench

What can I say? This is a wonderful email. I really want to meet Pavel and Maria now. The sweetness of the writing and the beautiful, generous words (let alone the fact that they were friends of my mother) give me the impression that they would be wonderful friends.

Red Dress Diva

Mom's friend, Leif Pareli, sent me a wonderful story about mom:

"There is quite a bit about our lives in [Alexandria] in [the email archives you found, but] not the episode when [Linda] asked me to be her escort to a garden party in the American consulate that she had been invited to. We arrived - last minute - at the main entrance and walked through a hallway opening up to the broad, impressive stairs leading down to the garden, which was already crowded with everybody that was anything in Alexandria. Halfway down the stairs she suddenly grabbed my arm and guffawed out this loud laughter, like I had just been telling a hilarious joke. Actually I had just been making small talk, but she got exactly what she wanted: Everybody turned around and looked at us, as we continued making our entrance down these operetta-style stairs - a VERY efficient way of getting everybody's attention!"

Mom, of course, was wearing a red dress. Classic Linda.

Information Scavenger Hunt

Today I spent many hours coaxing information from my mother's old computer in search of contacts and stories. The computer, I'm sorry to say, offered some pretty slim pickings. I did, however, manage to find a trove of her old emails, from which I extracted a lot of contact information to old friends of hers, including Susan Klein, Bechir Chourou, Leif Pareli, David Tavakoli, and quite a few others. Now I have to write all of them to deliver the unhappy news that mom is no longer with us.

Linda in 1945

This is a photograph of mom when she was one year old, give or take a month or two. As usual, clicking on the picture gives you a high-resolution version.

Anita Fabos and James Martone

Anita Fabos recently sent me a new email containing contact information for a few more of mom's friends, including James Martone, who I had wanted to contact because his was a name I recognized. Before I had the chance to contact him, however, he contacted me.

In an email, James said: "I loved your mother, and met her at a crossroads in my life, where she was kind and gentle and helped me through it. I met your mother through Roxanne, whom you know, I'm sure. Your mother loved Roxanne, and my friendship with your mother was mostly an extension of this. I can't remember the last time I saw her, but probably around 97, 98..."

and

“I am sad I never reconnected, but perhaps I have in a way, via you.”

James and I have exchanged a number of emails since the one quoted above. We have yet to talk on the phone, but we have plans to get together when I am next in Washington, DC.

A Christmas Present for Mom

I acquired the habit of listening to National Public Radio (NPR) from mom, who had it running all day, every day (Osman and I sometimes joked about the very strange songs that played on that radio, including such masterpieces as Dunkin' Bagels, and Don't Darken My Towels No More). She was very sad at one point because she thought she would not be able to listen to it when she moved to Cairo (It is available online, so that was not a problem). Because I know she loved it so much, I have decided that since I can no longer get mom a meaningful present for Christmas, I will donate some small sum of money to NPR in her name. It can't be very much because things are tight, but I will give what I can to my local station.

Care to join me?

Linda Circa 1980

The title says it all. The photograph was taken by Nadir. As usual, clicking on the image will give you a high-resolution version of the photograph.

Jake and the Dinosaur

As I am sure anybody who knew her already knows, my mother was a Storyteller, with a capital "S." My wife seems to believe that I might have inherited that particular gene from my mother, and has been urging me to write some children's stories for my tot, Ali. With this in mind, it's not hard to see how one of my earliest memories of mom's storytelling talent was dredged up from the deeper recesses of my memory.

When I was four years old, my mother created a story box for me. I don't know if "storybox" is the proper name for the contraption, but it was a story that she wrote and illustrated on a roll of paper that she attached to two spools that were attached inside a shoebox with a window in it. Through the window, we could see the illustrated story. Each "page" of the story was a frame in the narrative. When we had finished reading a frame, we would roll the spool to get to the next.

The story was, as best as I can recall, as follows:

"One day, Jake was walking in the forest. In the forest he saw a dinosaur. Jake was very afraid. The dinosaur brought his head close to look at jake. Jake gave him a piece of candy. Jake and the dinosaur became best friends."

I still love that story.

So does the dinosaur.

Pea Soup

It is snowing outside, here in Dublin, Ohio. It is 27 degrees outside with a wind chill factor of 17. What I could really use is a cup of mom's wonderful cream of pea soup, or cream of celery, or cream of avocado (yes, you got that right), or cream of carrot, or cream of...

You get the point.

Books

among the most wonderful things that my mother ever did for me was that she made an avid reader of me. In Cairo, it was not always easy to find good books in English for a growing boy, yet I always had a large stock of them; when we finally gained access to a good library in Cairo (the All Saints Cathedral Library in Zamalek), I had so many books that we ended up donating nine boxes of them to it.

Mom had the most wonderful taste in books that she got for me, and she didn't stop when we gained access to the library, either. Some of the books she provided me with are still among my favorite books in the world. I cannot begin to remember them all, but here is a sample list:

The Adventures of Remi,
All of the Oz books,
The Complete Short Stories of Sherlock Holmes,
Robinson Crusoe,
The Three Musketeers,
The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain,
Steinbeck's King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table,
A Bell for Adano,
Shelley's Frankenstein,
and Cheaper by the Dozen.

In addition, she offered me her own books. If you knew my mother at all, you know what quality books she had. From her collection I came to love P.G. Wodehouse, Rex Stout, Ngaio Marsh, Agatha Christie, and many others.

Mom also taught me a very important lesson; at one time I had this belief that I really should read certain books such as Shakespeare's major works, Homer, Ovid, Virgil, Dante, Thomas Moore, Poe, etc. Whan I complained to her that I am really struggling with Dante (I can't read poetry to save my life except, maybe, for Poe), she asked me why I was subjecting myself to something that I clearly was not enjoying. When I gave her my rationale, she, as was her wont, made it look so simple; she told me that there are so many wonderful books out there that it is enough to read those among them that I enjoy to get the same well-rounded education, and that self-inflicted suffering really should not be part of the process.

So, I read Hamlet and the Merchant of Venice, but I passed on Romeo and Juliet (I love the language, but the plot is tripe). I never attempted Ovid, Virgil, and Dante, but I did read the Iliad and the Oddessey, as well as More's Utopia. Mom bequeathed to me her Faulkner books. Maybe I'll give that a shot someday soon.

Mom's Last Photos (1)

I took this photograph of mom at the 501 Diner on East Franklin Street in July, 2007. That officially makes it among the last few pictures ever taken of my mother. Ragia hates it; she says that it does not look like mom at all.

What do you think?

The Christmas Tree Ballet

Spice, hydrocarbons, grilling meats, women's perfume and men's cologne, frying falafel, sweat, baked goods, urine, and garbage; these comprise the usual melange that is the all-pervasive miasma of Cairo.

In early December, however, certain areas of Cairo, such as the island district of Zamalek, acquire a strong, festive, aroma of fresh pine sap. This, you see, is when the local florists put hundreds upon hundreds of Christmas trees on display. The sidewalks become forests overnight, obscuring all store fronts within hailing distance of any given florist, who typically leaves only a small gap for customers to enter shops whose displays they cannot see. To walk on these sidewalks during the Christmas season is to walk on narrow paths between the trees.

This is the setting for mom's annual pilgrimage to the Zamalek florists to select the perfect Christmas tree. Mom had rituals for the process; first, she would insist on seeing every tree the florist had on display. Then she would insist that the florist's staff bring to her the "special" trees that they had set away for the better-tipping customers. The workers knew her well and, instead of avoiding her and her tedious demands, they would vie to be the ones who perform this annual ballet for her. This, I believe, is not only due to the fact that she tipped extravagantly, regardless of whether their efforts resulted in a sale or not, but also to the fact that she was so charming and fun to argue with! If she did not find the specific tree she was looking for, she would tip the workers, and on we would go to the next florist.

This performance was so much fun for me that I honestly looked forward to it as much as I did opening the presents, except that the presents sometimes disappointed, but buying the tree never did.

When I was strong enough to do so, I would ask the workers to prepare the tree for me so that I could carry it the five or six blocks home, and up three or four flights of stairs, my nose filled with the sweet aroma of Christmas pine.

That is why mom immediately comes to mind when I smell pine sap. There is no sadness associated with this recollection, only a wistful and nostalgic joy as I am transported in my mind to the streets of Cairo. In my mind, I am thirteen again. I am beside myself with barely-contained excitement, and I am promising myself that, this year, I will not drop the tree on our way home.

Flour, Water, Salt, Wire and Paint

At around this time of the year, when we still lived in Egypt, mom would gather her kids around her with quantities of flour, water, salt, wire, and paint. We would fashion Christmas tree ornaments out of dough, and we would embed wire hangers in the less-than-well-finished (but oddly beautiful) shapes that resulted. My mother would then bake them. When the shapes came out of the oven, we would paint them.

We did this every year for several years. I remember the warmth and the beautiful smells of the kitchen as we made these ornaments and ate prodigious amounts of mom's astoundingly good made-from-scratch chocolate chip, oatmeal, and peanut butter cookies.

My mother loved those ornaments. She still had one or two of them when she died.

In memory of my mother, it is my goal to turn this practice into a family tradition at my house. All I have to do is figure out the exact proportions of the mix. I expect that our ornaments will be just as irregular as those ones were, and also just as beautiful. Every time I hang one on our tree, I will think of mom.

Frank Dudley Oldham 1911 - 1955

As I was browsing the University of Missouri Archive in search of information related to my mother and her family, I came across the obituary of Frank Oldham published in the September 1955 issue of the Missouri Alumnus (see page 27). Frank Oldham was my mother's father.

Frank Dudley Oldham was born in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, on June 29, 1911. Among other things, my grandfather was a professor, a professional engineer, and chairman of both the University of Missouri Department of Chemical Engineering and the University section of the American Association of University Professors. He became the chairman of the Department of Chemical Engineering at the age of 38, and remained in this position until he died.

My grandfather was also a member of the American Institute of Chemical Engineers, the American Chemical Society, the American Society for Engineering Education, the American Association of University Professors, the National Society of Professional Engineers, Sigma Xi, Alpha Chi Sigma, and Kappa Alpha.

Dr. Frank D. Oldham died on June 17, 1955.* My mother, the eldest of his children, was 11. To my sorrow, the above is almost all I know about the man, but I do know that he must be the source of some of my mother's intelligence, natural leadership skills, charisma, and her gravitas.

* Coincidentally, my sister Sarah was born exactly 31 years later.

Peanut Butter Sandwiches--Extra Mayo!

I remember that mom would love to go to a certain high-class bakery and deli in Cairo where she would buy four or five types of superb cold cuts, three or four types of French cheese, and at least two types of crusty, tasty bread. She would take all of this bounty home, and would put together a platter to die for. Then she would sit down and merrily make her favorite sandwiches for herself: a TUC cracker (similar to Club crackers) with a layer of cream cheese, a layer of peanut butter, and a layer of mayonnaise.

I know that this makes no sense at all, but that is what she did.

And sometimes she even added a layer of butter.

Capricious

I'm really tired today, so I'm going to tell you a really short one. Mom, Osman, a friend of mom's (Louise Stoner?) and I were in a taxicab in Cairo in 1986. When we stopped at one of Cairo's legendary traffic lights, a nasty man in a car next to us made a crude pass at mom, so she asked me to cuss at him. Fearing that my mother was not up to my cussing, I asked her "How nasty?" She said to give it my very best effort.

I did.

She swatted me.

Oh, well.

The Oldham Women

This is a photograph of (from left to right) mom; her sister, Carla; her mother, Helen Oldham (née Graebner); and her sister, Janet. The photograph was taken circa 1962.

Linda at Work 1

This is a picture of mom at work in Manshiet Nasser in what must have been 1988 or 1999. In the photograph, which I believe to be the work of Nadir, mom is with Hager ElHadidi and Inas (?). Mom always seemed happiest in Manshiet Nasser. As usual, click on the image for a much larger version that is large enough for at least a 6X4" print (10X15 cm).

Post-Thanksgiving Blues

Ragia's first turkey surpassed all expectations, scoring up there with some of mom's finest attempts. As we were eating some delicious leftovers from yesterday, Ragia turned to me and said: "I remember when Linda would come over to our apartment in Carrboro and make us her delicious barley soup and a huge bowl of salad with orange sections, and we would sit and eat it with some of her delicious homemade bread and tell stories for hours. I miss that very much."

So do I. Barley soup, salad, and bread with mom sounds like heaven. Sometimes I still have trouble accepting that she's gone.

Happy Thanksgiving

Despite our sadness that we can no longer have Thanksgiving dinner with my mother, and that we are doomed to settle for inferior turkey (no matter how valiantly others will try, mom's will only get sweeter and juicier in our memories), there are many things we have to be thankful for. Some are private, some are not entirely relevant to this space, and some do not easily come to mind, but here are a few that I can list that relate directly to my mother, in no particular order:

1. That we had as many joyous times with mom as we did. Mom found great joy in having us around her at this time;
2. That no matter how sad we are that she is gone, mom had a wonderful life that was by no means short when measured with the yardsticks of experience, knowledge, accomplishments, and value to others;
3. That mom declined rapidly and died rather easily, all things considered. This could have been much worse;
4. That mom died where she wanted to;
5. That mom got to say the many goodbyes she did;
6. That mom loved her children and her grandchildren (biological or otherwise) very, very much; and, last but not least,
7. That she was our mother, sister, grandmother, friend, mentor, and/or combinations of the above.

Ok. I have shed enough tears writing this. Ragia is cooking up a storm, and she paid close attention to mom's turkey-cooking instructions, so I think I will be having the world's second-best turkey. Unless you are having dinner with us, you might just have to settle for third-best.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

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P.S: Sarah responded to this post minutes after it was posted:

You know, it's days like this that my heart just fills with sadness in an unbelievable way. Reading this message also sent me into tears and I wish nothing more than to be with you all, mostly mom of course. Holidays are always hard on me when I am away from family but this year is incredibly painful. I hope the turkey is amazing and... all I can do is dream about mom's.

I know what you mean, Sarah. We all love you here.

Fire in the Chicken Coop!

One of my earliest coherent memories of Cairo was when Mom and I were living in Bab-el-Louq in 1977. We lived on the third floor of a beautiful building built in the 1930s. The stairs were all marble and forged iron latticework, but I digress.

One day, my mother bought some sparklers, which we lit on the balcony. As the first sparkler neared its end (and my hand), I, frightened, threw it away from me out into the street. The sparkler landed on the roof of a live poultry shop where the butcher would prepare live chickens, turkeys, ducks, pigeons, and rabbits for customers. As with most roofs in Cairo, the roof was used as a storage area, and this one was used to store some very flammable palm-branch chicken cages that, of course, immediately burst into flames.

My mother, in panic, immediately ran into the kitchen and filled our largest pot with water and dumped it onto the low roof of the shop. The first pot landed squarely on the head of the shop's owner; not a drop hit the fire. The man was so tickled by the whole situation that he burst into gales of laughter and breathlessly asked her to continue. She did, and her efforts successfully quenched the fire. We and that butcher became close friends for the duration we lived there.

My mother loved to tell this story, and now I have told it to you.

Sarah's Promise

In response to yesterday's post, Sarah wrote:

This was in 1999 more than likely, if my memory serves me well. This is in Khiva, an ancient city right next to Urgench (about 20 minutes). Khiva is a stop on the silk road.

Mom got me a huge collection of fur hats on that trip, ranging from sheep and fox all the way to mink. Each hat was no more than $20! The one in the picture was sheep.

This trip was really amazing and I promised mom that as soon as I could save up enough money for us to go, I would take her immediately. Now, I will keep my promise and go to the places we wanted to go to and didn't get the chance. One place mom dreamed to go to was Samarkand and we somehow missed it. Next time, I am certainly going.

I miss you mom.

I miss you too, mom.

Big Fur Hat

Mom was not only an international traveler, but an international shopper. Here is Linda with a huge fur hat in an Uzbekistan market in (1999? 2000?) in (Urgench? Bukhara?). Help me out, Sarah.

It is getting so cold here, I could use a hat like this.

Khubz Linda

It apppears that our hostess was holding an important dinner for important relatives or other guests. Our hostess, the Hajjah, was flustered by the work required to prepare the smorgasbord that she had planned. As is often the case when undertaking a massive task under a short deadline and great stress, the smaller details are often overlooked. In this case, the moistress of the house forgot to buy any bread, and she only realized this at a time when the corner store had closed. There were other stores, of course, but there was no car to get there.

Enter mom, who offered to make biscuits. In despair, El-Hajjah accepted. As you know, biscuits must be eaten hot, so mom waited until the guests were seated before putting the biscuits in the oven. When the round, unelegant cylinders of hot dough emerged, the Hajjah was less than impressed, and she could not help but show it. The attitude was good-naturedly picked up by the guests, who treated the biscuits with utter disdain as they ate tray after tray of them (mom had to make at least three large batches, the demand was so high).

The next day, mom returned from college to find that there were a number of calls from women who had been at the dinner, insisting on getting the recipe for.

It appears that the recipe was copied many times over. So many times, in fact, that I have heard at least once that it might have become integrated into Tunisian cuisine.

If you are ever in Tunisia, and if you are ever offered "Khubz Linda," feel free to smile, for you now know the origin of the bread, but your host or hostess may not.

P.S.: Please see amendment to yesterday's post.

At the Muhammad Ali Mosque

This is a wonderful photograph I came across in mom's old photo collection. The photograph was taken by Nadir at the Muhammad Ali mosque at Saladin's citadel in Cairo, circa 1985-6. Sarah is not in the picture because Sarah had not yet been born.

Hide the Food!

When mom was confirmed for the grant to study in Egypt in 1976, the university sent her (and, by extension, me, of course) to Tunisia, where she was to study Arabic at Bourgeiba Univeristy. While there, we stayed with the mother and sisters of my mother's good friend Bechir Chourou. Bechir's mother, who I know only as El-Hajjah (the Pilgrim; this is a common honorific for matrons in the Arab world), was a committed socialist: by decree, food and all other resources in the house were to be shared by all. This was fine; this wonderful lady was happy to provide all the food herself, and she was a wonderful, wonderful, cook. The problem was this: Tunisian food is SPICY.

When I was first her guest (there were three such occasions; each time lasted 3-4 months), I was not yet 6, and I was unaccustomed to hot food. My mother, of course, maintained an independent food supply for me but, on the third or fourth time she came into the kitchen to see my food being shared by the members of the household, she decided that she would engage in subterfuge; she decided to hide the food she bought for me! Don't misunderstand—my mother was always a generous soul, and she was quite happy to do what she could to share the burden, but the problem was maintaining a supply of food that I could eat without suffering!

Mercifully, this did not have to last very long. By the end of that trip I was happily gobbling down the wonderful Tunisian bread dipped in the delicious incendiary concoction they call Harissa.

She Blends Seashells in the Blender

My mother was never very fond of perfume; one important exception was her fondness for khumrah. Khumrah is a perfume that Sudanese women make for themselves out of roasted ground seashells and sandalwood, musk (optional) and a liquid base made, among other things, of a mix of French perfumes, some of which are only available in Sudan.

Although I do not have the recipe that my mother used, I found several variations online. Perhaps Sarah can enlighten us with regards to the specific recipe mom used. For now, here is one recipe I found (the theme seems accurate enough):

1. Clean the seashells from all traces of tissue then boil over a low heat in a sodium bicarbonate solution for ten minutes.
2. Soak the shells in henna water for 24 hours.
3. Coarsely grind the shells in a blender.
4. Mix the shells with sandalwood and roast over a low fire.
5. Finely grind the mixture with two cloves.
6. Mix with lemon or orange juice and a few drops of French perfume (Rêve d'Or is a favorite, and is still in production since it was introduced to the market in 1889).
7. Put the resulting paste in a pot.
8. Light charcoal mixed with sandalwood incense in a brazier.
9. Place a sieve on top of the fire.
10. Upend the pot on the flames, but leave the pot in place.
11. Allow the rising smoke to cook the paste for ten minutes. Mix and repeat until the color changes to a deep red.
12. Add the powdered mush if you wish, then place the mixture in a bottle. Add more French perfume.
13. Firmly seal the bottle.
14. Shake the bottle well and allow it to sit for a few days.

The author of another post warns that khumrah is to be used by married women only and even then only when their husbands are around, because it is sure to excite the senses of any males in the vicinity, so be careful. ;)

Mom's Resume

I recently came across my mother's resume again. She had sent it to me to submit to my employer for possible employment. It struck me that, although we know she was a world traveler with a great deal of experience, how little we know about the scope of her work. So, I thought I would post herresume here. The following is lifted directly from her resume:

Areas of Expertise
Support to development and strengthening of civil society, development of institutional links between community organizations, government agencies and national and international NGOs. Experience in all phases of the project cycle. Long experience with participatory development programs, particularly in the Middle East, Central Asia, East and Central Africa. Sector expertise includes community establishment and maintenance of water supply, sanitation, community primary health, women in development, health/hygiene, and small enterprise development.

Areas of Work Experience
Egypt, Ethiopia, Jordan, Rwanda, Somalia, Sri Lanka, Sudan, Syria, United States, Uzbekistan, Vietnam, West Bank/Gaza, Yemen, Zimbabwe.

Donor Agencies
Danida, Netherlands Foreign Ministry, USAID, KfW, World Bank, Ford Foundation, Near East Foundation, Population Council, Konrad Adenauer Foundation.

Community and NGO Participation in Development (also a key element in all other sections):

Egypt 2005, America’s Development Foundation. Consultant to national program to strengthen NGOs and community development associations to interface with local government and work jointly on local socioeconomic development issues.

Zimbabwe 2002, Africare. Team leader for evaluation of an appropriate-technology agricultural project in drought-prone communal areas of Zvishavane District.

Rwanda 2001, Africare/USAID. Team leader, mid-term evaluation and development of project extension plan, Local Government Initiative Project, which is supporting decentralization and democratization across 30 of the 57 rural communes of Rwanda. Much of evaluation based on three-governorate survey of citizen participation.

Egypt 1997, POPTECH/USAID. Advisor, evaluation of the potential for NGO participation in expanded family planning programs.

Egypt 1996, CARE International/Danida. Advisor on participatory community awareness campaigns related to environmental hazards, community health, environmental enhancement, and local NGO/community participation in environmental programs in small rural communities. Inter alia, designed and implemented participatory training courses for CARE staff in supporting widened knowledge base and self-determination of communities, with an emphasis on outreach system management by village women.

Egypt 1994, Netherlands and Danish Embassies. Advisor on donor strategy for support to Egyptian NGOs and government agencies to participate in the Fourth World Conference for Women in Beijing, 1995.

Egypt 1993, Danida. Advisor on NGO programs, responsible for evaluation, working with local agencies to develop fundable programs, and providing recommendations to Danida for allocations of funds.

Syria 1989, UNICEF. Needs assessment of Damascus refugee camps, to lay groundwork for programs of community organization, business development, and education for Palestinian refugees.

Health (also see section on water and sanitation):

USA, 2004. Family Health International. Consultant, responsible for evaluation of FHI program of Fellowships in Contraceptive Technology Research.

USA 2002, Orange/Person/Chatham Mental Health. Consultant responsible for study of the clientele and stakeholders of the joint mental health, substance abuse, and developmental disability services sector in a three-county area of North Carolina, to ensure that the points of view of system users are reflected in planning for the system over the next two years under conditions of anticipated sharp decline in state budgets for service provision.

Egypt 1997, John Snow International/USAID. Team leader, qualitative studies of community knowledge, belief and practice regarding maternal and neonatal health care and constraints on improving this care in southern Egypt.

Egypt 1997, POPTECH/USAID. Advisor, evaluation of the potential for NGO participation in expanded family planning programs.

Egypt 1996, CARE International/Danida. Advisor on participatory community awareness campaigns related to environmental hazards, community health, environmental enhancement, and local NGO/community participation in environmental programs in small rural communities. Inter alia, designed and implemented participatory training courses for CARE staff in supporting widened knowledge base and self-determination of communities.

Egypt 1995, Danida. Advisor on participatory social surveys, health education/outreach, NGO/community participation and capacity building, health implications of current practices and existing water and sanitation systems, Edfu District, Aswan Governorate. Village women and girls worked on survey design and implementation.

Ethiopia 1994, BASICS/USAID. Principal investigator, social soundness and gender analysis study for national program of health care service improvement.

Egypt 1994, Danida. Advisor on agency health sector strategic plan.

Egypt 1993, Development Consultants, Danida. Advisor to reappraisal team, community-based primary health care and basic infrastructure program, Aswan Governorate.

Egypt 1992, Integrated Development Consultants/Abt Associates/USAID. Advisor on socioeconomic surveys for Cost Recovery for Health Project.

Egypt 1991, CarlBro/Danida. Member of project formulation team, primary health care program for Edfu District, Aswan Governorate, responsible for assessing health conditions, designing program of community participation and mobilization, information and communication programs, and essential community infrastructure.

Egypt 1991, SPAAC/Egyptian Ministry of Health/USAID. Team leader, six-community study of case management for diarrheal disease, based on observations of families, mostly mothers, handling diarrhea and dehydration in young children.

Egypt 1989-1991, UNICEF. Research coordinator, ethnographic studies of the social and physical environment of high rates of diarrheal disease/dehydration in Upper Egypt.

Egypt 1989, John Snow International/USAID. Advisor for review of ethnographic data base and development for qualitative research plan for national diarrheal diseases project.

Egypt 1987-1989, Save the Children/USAID. Advisor on design and implementation of child survival program in Minia Governorate; subsequently, carried out mid-term evaluation of program.

Egypt 1986, Institute for Cultural Affairs/AfricaNow. Evaluator, primary health care program run by village women in villages of Beni Suef Governorate.

Egypt 1984-86, The Population Council/Ford Foundation. Joint principal investigator, large study of the social and physical context of child health in an urban squatter settlement, and analysis of differentials in child growth and survival in a community lacking in basic municipal services.

Egypt 1985, John Snow International/USAID. Principle investigator, study of the role of the pharmacist as a health care provider in communities at high risk of diarrheal disease.

Egypt 1984, The Population Council/Ford Foundation (MEAWARD). Principal investigator, anthropological study of the social and physical context of child health in an urban squatter settlement.

Egypt 1984-85, John Snow International/USAID. Principle Investigator, ministudies on the impact of mass media messages on family management of diarrhea/dehydration in young children.

CommunityEnvironment, Water Supply, Sanitation, and Health/Hygiene Education, with Emphasis on the Role of Women (by definition):

Sri Lanka, Ethiopia, Uzbekistan, 2003, WSAtkins/World Bank. Project manager, State of the Art Sanitation and Hygiene Component, Rural Water Supply and Sanitation. Responsible for preparation of an overall generic strategy for community-based hygiene education and sanitation promotion, appraisal of in-country situations in the three countries, development of a methodology for monitoring and evaluating program effectiveness, preparation of a guidance manual/toolkit for use in World Bank projects, and support of cross-country knowledge generation and exchange.

Palestine, 2001, Environmental Health Project/USAID. Member of design team, for major water supply and sanitation program for a population of 140,000 people in rural areas of the West Bank; responsible for participatory community studies, participatory hygiene education and other social dimensions of the program.

Egypt 2000, CARE. Team leader, design of participatory integrated development program for rural Beni Suef Governorate, focused on community institutional capacity building, development of community-managed development and protection of the physical environment, particularly water and sanitation systems, economic and educational support programs, networking with government sector agencies.

Uzbekistan 1999-2000, AHT International/KFW. Member of design team for drinking water supply and sanitation program for collective farms in Khorezm State (Aral Sea Region), responsible for socioeconomic surveys, participatory design of community management system for standpipe-based water supply, and health-hygiene education for communities and schools.

Sudan 1999, Care International. Responsible for development of a plan for converting potable water supply systems developed under emergency conditions in the refugee camps around Khartoum and Om Durman Cities into financially and technically sustainable systems at the community level.

Egypt 1999, GKW/KfW. Member of feasibility study team, potable water supply program for Qena Governorate, responsible for socioeconomic surveys, health/hygiene education and potential for community participation in system implementation.

Jordan 1998, Hofman Andersen Partners/Danida. Member of appraisal team for wastewater treatment plants in Madaba and Na’ur towns, responsible for assessing the health implications of the current situation, demand for sewerage, ability and willingness to pay for services.

Egypt 1996, CARE International/Danida. Advisor on design and implementation of community-managed awareness programs related environmental hazards, community health, environmental enhancement, and local NGO/community participation in environmental programs in small rural communities (two consultancies). Primary responsibility for community management held by village women.

Viet Nam 1995, Hofman Andersen Partners/Danida. Member of appraisal team, advisor on community participation, community health, water/sanitation project for Buon Ma Thuot City and surrounding rural areas, Daklak Province.

Egypt 1995, Nordic Consult/Danida. Member of appraisal team, Esna Water and Drainage Project, responsible for assessing demand for service, willingness and ability to pay for service, potential for community participation, health implications of current situation, and need for hygiene education.

Egypt 1994, Nordic Consult/Danida. Member of review team, institutional development of public company for water supply in Aswan Governorate.

Egypt 1994, Nordic Consult/Danida. Member of mid-term review team for program of water supply and sanitation in Aswan Governorate, responsible for assessment of implementation of program of community participation in design, and implementation, and congruence of systems with community needs.

Egypt 1990-1993, Dorsch Consult/KfW. Advisor to water and sanitation program, responsible for basic demographic and demand for services studies, assessment of ability and willingness to pay, NGO/community mobilization and participation, and health education, rural areas of Kafr El Sheikh Governorate.

Small Enterprise Development:

Jordan 1998, International Center for Research on Women/USAID. Team leader, design, implementation, analysis for major national study of women’s economic activities in Jordan.

Egypt 1997, World Education/USAID. Advisor on institutional development and community participation for women’s handicraft NGOs.

Jordan 1995, World Education. Technical advisor on small-enterprise development programming.

Egypt 1993, Development Alternatives International/USAID. Team leader, survey of socioeconomic impact of large program of credit to small-scale industrial proprietors.

Yemen 1993, Netherlands Embassy, Yemen. Team leader, project appraisal, women in economic development program in rural Yemen.

Yemen 1993, Netherlands Embassy/Yemeni Ministry of Social Affairs. Advisor, responsible for developing a commercially viable program for women producers.

Egypt 1992, Daqahliyya Association for Small Enterprise Development. Advisor on small enterprise development programming and institutional development.

Yemen 1992, Netherlands Embassy. Team leader, socioeconomic/health survey of squatter settlements of returnees after the Gulf War, development of recommendations regarding potential for community-based economic activities, and the necessary and sufficient conditions for fostering health and economic development.

Egypt 1992, Agricultural Cooperative Development International/USAID. Advisor on development of exports of light industry.

Egypt 1992, Danida. Member of appraisal mission, small-scale industrial development program for Aswan and Qena Governorates.

Yemen 1992, Development Alternatives/USAID. Team leader, design of women’s production project for Productive Families Program of the Ministry of Social Affairs.

Egypt 1992, Chemonics International/IFAD. Member of appraisal team, Livestock Production Intensification Project, responsible for designing a system of agricultural extension to women producers.

Egypt 1991, Integrated Development Consultants/USAID. Team leader, study of the impact of the legal framework for establishment and operation of private voluntary associations on private voluntary activity in Egypt.

Egypt 1991, Carl Bro/Danida. Member of formulation team, small-scale industrial program, responsible for analysis of the existing small-scale industrial sector in Aswan and Qena Governorates, identification of the constraints on growth, development of programs for minimizing constraints.

Egypt 1991, CARE/USAID. Team leader, final evaluation, CARE Village Self-Reliance Project, a community development association-based microcredit program in poor rural areas of four governorates of south Egypt.

West Bank/Gaza 1990, ICCO/Netherlands and Netherlands Foreign Ministry. Advisor on support for development of small enterprise programs in the Occupied Territories.

Middle East Region 1990, Amideast/The Near East Foundation. Consultant for design of a small enterprise support program for the Middle East region.

Egypt 1990, Voluntary Services Overseas. Advisor on agency support to the small enterprise sector, including study comparing social environment of areas in which high levels of small-scale industrial activity are found with those in which small industry is either lacking or depressed.

Egypt 1990-1991, Integrated Development Consultants/USAID. Member of study team, regulatory constraints on industrial productivity.

West Bank/Gaza, 1990-1991, Agricultural Cooperative Development International and National Cooperative Businessmen’s Association/USAID. Consultant, responsible for design of program of support to business development and employment generation activities of Palestinian women.

Egypt 1989-1991, Ford Foundation. Senior investigator, study of indigenous solutions to the problem of working capital in the small-scale industrial sector, research grant from The Ford Foundation.

Egypt 1989-1990, German Agency for Technical Cooperation (GTZ). Consultant responsible for design and monitoring of program for women entrepreneurs.

Jordan 1989, The Near East Foundation. Consultant responsible for design of a national program of support for small enterprise development.

Syria 1989, UNICEF. Evaluation of Palestinian women’s needs for training in small enterprise, health, community participation in Damascus refugee camps.

Egypt 1984-1986, Konrad Adenauer Foundation. Consultant for design and monitoring of rural programs of small enterprise development.

Egypt 1988, Institute of Cultural Affairs/AfricaNow. Evaluator of community microloans program for the poorest of the poor in rural Beni Suef.

Egypt 1988, The Near East Foundation. Author of training manual for NGO small enterprise development programming.

Egypt 1987, Catholic Relief Services. Consultant on strategies for agency support to small-scale enterprise development.

Egypt 1986, Netherlands Embassy. Member of appraisal team, women’s community outreach and small enterprise projects, Fayoum Governorate.

Somalia, 1985, Tams Engineers. Women in development consultant for the Genale-Bulo Marerte Project, a vast agricultural development program of the World Bank in the Southern Shebelle region, responsible for assessing the potential for enhanced economic participation of women farmers and for carrying out a census of farmers in the region.

Egypt 1990-1993, Daqahliyya Businessmen’s Association. Advisor on program for small-scale industrial development.

Community Upgrading:

Jordan 1997, KfW. Member of appraisal team, Community Infrastructure Program, assessing community demand for improved municipal services, ability and willingness to pay, potential for and recommended form of community participation in program implementation and management.

Egypt 1997, German Institute for Development Cooperation/KfW. Member of appraisal team, Primary School Construction Project, establishment of site selection criteria for Fayoum Governorate and evaluation of projects in Beheira and Qena Governorates.

Egypt 1997, Dorsch Consult/KfW. Evaluation of application of site selection criteria, Primary School Construction Project, Qena and Beheira Governorates.

Egypt, 1989, Integrated Development Consultants/USAID. Team leader for evaluation of the Helwan New Community Project, a vast public housing program for low-income factory workers, on eligibility and affordability criteria and their application.

Egypt, 1986, CHF/Ministry of Housing/USAID. Principal investigator, studies of establishment and organization of informal settlements in Greater Cairo.

Egypt, 1984-1985, Environmental Quality International/The World Bank. Director of community programs and studies of the informal housing sector.

Egypt 1981-1986, Environmental Quality International/The World Bank. Director of baseline studies for two major urban upgrading sites in Cairo (Manshiet Nasser garbage collectors’ settlement and Manshiet Nasser Main Settlement), including a general census, an ethnographic study of the home and work environments, assessment of willingness and ability to pay for municipal survey stems of land tenure in these squatter communities, potential for community participation in the upgrading process, health implications of current living conditions (predominantly the lack of water supply and sanitation).

Egypt 1983-1986, Environmental Quality International/USAID. Director of baseline studies for major urban upgrading site in Cairo (Arab Rashad, Helwan), including occupation and income profile of settlement, census of households, study of ability and willingness to pay for municipal services, current patterns of land tenure and barriers to legalizing tenure, potential for community participation in the upgrading process.

Egypt 1984, Environmental Quality International/The World Bank. Director of baseline studies of two urban upgrading areas (Rod El Farag, Sayeda Zeinab) with legal land tenure but with deficient urban services.

Other Professional Experience:

Egypt 1978-1980, Fintecs Consultants. Project officer for agricultural and construction programs in Middle East and East Africa.

Egypt 1976-1977, Visiting lecturer in anthropology and member of social science research team, University of Alexandria.

USA 1974-1975, Researcher at Frank Porter Graham Child Development Research Project, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

USA 1972-1974, Graduate research assistant at Department of Anthropology, University of North Carolina.

USA 1967-1969, Undergraduate research assistant for study of interracial marriage in Chicago 1900-1969, Roosevelt University (Chicago).

USA 1964-1965, Research assistant at the Cantometrics Research Project (anthropological-musicological study of song styles worldwide), Bureau of Applied Social Research, Columbia University.

Publications

Belgin Tekce, Linda Oldham and Frederic Shorter, 1994. A Place to Live: Families and Child Health in a Cairo Neighborhood. Cairo: American University Press.

Linda Oldham, Hager El Hadidi, Hussein Tama’a, Michele Suliman Nashed, Sherif El Diwany, Mahmoud Hussein, Mohamed Abel-Aziz, Mohamed Saker, 1994. Measuring Socioeconomic Impact of Credit on SMI: Assessment of the Monitoring System Used by the Alexandria Businessmen’s Association, Egypt, Gemini Technical Report No. 76, Development Alternatives and Integrated Development Consultants.

Linda Oldham, 1991. Sociocultural Factors of Relevance to the Incidence and Prevalence of Diarrheal Disease in Upper Egypt. New York: UNICEF (Arabic and English).

Linda Oldham, Hager El Hadidi and Hussein Tamaa, December 1988. "Toward a Typology of Informal Settlements in Cairo,” Cairo Papers in Social Science, Monograph 4, Volume 10.

Linda Oldham and Hussein Tamaa, 1988. Small Enterprise Programs in Egypt: An Introduction. Cairo: The Near East Foundation.

Mohamed Abdel Salam El Banna, Bothayna El Deeb, Kadry Hefny, Mohamed Amr Hussein, Sobhi Moharram and Linda Oldham, 1988. The State of Egyptian Children. Cairo: CAPMAS and UNICEF.

Linda Oldham, 1984. "Child Nurturance in a Low-Income Settlement of Cairo." Population Council Regional Papers.

Linda Oldham, 1974. $u¢¢e$$: A Phenomenological Analysis of the Amway Corporation. Unpublished M.A. Thesis, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

Memories of Alexandria, 1976

This is a terribly abused photograph of my mother and me in Alexandria in 1976. It was taken by either my grandmother Helen, or her sister Esther. I will be working on restoring it in the coming weeks, but I felt that the condition it is in is by no means insignificant. Photographs are memories made solid, and the condition of this photograph resembles the condition of my memories of this period: vague, tattered, full of gaps, and utterly irreplaceable.

That's why I am making this website, folks: to arrest the deterioration of memories of my mother, and to restore what I can.

I appreciate the help some of you have given me, and I hope the rest will contribute.

Manshiet Nasser

The last time I spoke to her, three days before she died, mom told me that one of her greatest wishes was to visit Manshiet Nasser once more, but was afraid that her health would prohibit her from going up the steep hill to the squatter community near the garbage collector's area in Cairo. I promised her that I would carry her up the mountain, if I had to, the next time I was in Cairo.

Manshiet Nasser is, as I mentioned, a squatter (or "informal") community in Cairo. My mother co-authored A Place to Live with Belgin Tekce and Frederick Shorter about the neighborhood.

One of my mother's favorite people lived in Manshiet Nasser: her friend Fawzia. Fawzia owned a tiny little grocery store on a sloping street in the area. Although poor, she raised her kids very well. The last time mom was in Manshiet Nasser, Fawzia's son Osama, whose mother had died several years earlier, asked mom whether he should run for parliament.

I am currently looking for more information about Fawzia and the rest of her family and mom's other friends there. I intend to keep my promise to my mother as fully as I can; I, at least, will go up that hill and convey to mom's many friends there that she had dearly wanted to visit them.

A Tale of "Good" and "Evil"

One of my first lessons about social conservatism and liberalism was given to me, quite inadvertently, by my mother. Soon after we arrived in Egypt in 1976, both my mother and I came down with hepatitis A. Because I was not quite six years old at the time, I was hit harder than she was. I woke up one night with an extremely high fever—so high, in fact, that I was delerious. I was screaming at the top of my lungs for my mother, who was right there, holding me.

This must have terrified mom, who could not, at that time, speak any Arabic. It did not help that it was after midnight in a town where she knew next to nothing. Deciding that a doctor was desperately needed, she did the sensible thing; she ran downstairs to ask for help at the only open place of business in the vicinity, which happened to be the night club in the building next door.

The neighbors, who had apparently heard my screams, watched her run frantically down the stairs to seek help. They did this quite surreptitiously, so as not to be seen themselves. They saw her run into the night club, where she was received with genuine concern.

The neighbors, who hid so that they would not have to give help, condemned my mother for entering such a den of iniquity. The night club folk got her a doctor.

At the time, I was too young to understand just what had happened, although I actually remember the events. Years later, the memory made me look back and go "Hmmmm..."

And it still does.

A Bad Moment

Sometimes I cannot keep the pretense up that I am strong and solid. Today is bad. I miss my mother soooo much.

I am crying as I write these words. I wish I had another cheerful story to write about her, but for now, I am too sad.

Try me again tomorrow. It will be a better day.

I hope.

Carol Neal Hannah

I received this wonderful email from an old friend of my mother's. It is so good that I cannot possibly do it justice by talking about it. So without further ado:

Linda came to the northwoods of Wisconsin a couple of years ago. We had some good chuckles about our chance meeting on a street in New York City so many years ago. She was working for Alan Lomax at the time. She said he told her he hired her because she had great legs.

When Linda visited, I had a hard time recognizing her at the Minneapolis airport because she was so thin. I wondered at the time if something could be wrong. (In her wonderful whimsical way, she told me to look for wildly colored shoes -- it worked. That's how I found her.)

We picked blueberries together, wandered forest paths, and talked about old school days. She told me amazing tales about how all the University School kids jockeyed for position based on their father's successes (a competition I was thankfully spared) and how everyone's (well, not quite everyone's) mothers were part of a network that helped form the social lives of the kids.

Linda lost her dad to cancer when she was 12. We formed a bond at that time as the only two in class without a father. While I felt bad for Linda, I welcomed her company. We spent a lot of time after that plotting our escape from Columbia.

Linda and I exchanged many emails about politics. She was notable in her staunch ethics. We disagreed often about methodology but rarely about position. E-mailing her was good for honing one's arguments!

Linda was sorry to have missed the first reunion and said she really wanted to attend the next one.

She talked a lot about her family. She loved having many children and loved the constant drama of large family life.

She didn't feel she had done so much good for the world through her work. But I think she judged her situation way too harshly. How can checking and consulting about water systems in the Middle East not be worthwhile? If for no other reason, Linda's work was meaningful because she reached through our country's dreadful myopia; she admired and learned about other cultures. She never hung around with the ex-pats but instead she established good friendships with people of the countries where she worked. I honor her for those accomplishments. The world needs more Lindas right now.

Rest in peace, Linda,
Carol Neal Hannah