The Soliya Connect Program was an enriching experience that really widened my perspective and taught me a lot about the importance of dialogue over debating.

For our final project, our team chose the topic “The Future and Generational Perspectives.” Honestly, I felt like the topic was way too broad, and that broadness would impact the depth at which we’d be able to converge on something meaningful as a group coming from such different cultural backgrounds.

When it came to constructing my interview questions, I focused on the effect of nearby wars on people’s plans for the future, the extent to which they’re affected presently, and how they expect to be affected going forward. I interviewed two Sudanese students at my university. Because they were Sudanese, I felt like they already understood what it means to have war affect your expectations for the future. But when asked about the neighboring wars now that they’re in Egypt, they expressed that they still feel distant from it,  that it doesn’t feel like something personally affecting them day to day. One of them pointed out that at university, the war in Gaza is spoken about far more than the war in Sudan, which coming from her felt very painful, yet true honestly.  

When I asked about long-term plans, their answers genuinely surprised me. I was expecting them to express uncertainty or discomfort – they know the realities of war better than most. But both were clear that their plans hadn’t changed. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense: they were never planning to stay in Egypt to begin with. I think they feel a degree of disconnection from Egypt in the first place, which is probably why the conflicts around it feel distant too. When you’re already planning to leave, the instability around you doesn’t land the same way.

That said, both of them said that if Egypt could offer something genuinely stable, fair, safe, and rewarding, they would consider staying. One of them described leaving her home country as “an incredible loss” and still said she has no plans to remain. They both said they love Egypt, which actually made me think: loving a place doesn’t always equate to feeling like you belong there. 

When it came to the group experience, it was definitely interesting to speak to people from different nationalities. But because our topic settled on war, people from Egypt, Lebanon, Pakistan and similar contexts related much more and spoke more freely than those from the West. I felt like there was a barrier, not a language one, but an experience one. I made sure not to let their inability to relate discourage me from speaking openly about what facing war actually feels like, and it helped that there were others in the group who could relate. But honestly, I wish we had chosen topics that appealed to both worlds, because I really wanted to hear more of the Western voice. That exchange felt a bit one-sided, and I don’t think it needed to be.

Looking back, I learnt that it’s important to share your experiences, but also to be present enough to listen carefully. Different people experience different struggles and they are all valid.

Like I mentioned before, something that really stuck with me and that I’m taking away is the difference between dialogue and debate. Soliya was deliberate about that distinction and it genuinely shifted something in me. In a debate you’re trying to win. In a dialogue you’re trying to understand. That sounds simple but it’s harder to practice than it sounds, especially across real cultural and political differences.

I also want to reflect on the Tahrir trip as another intercultural experience. Although it was much shorter and on a much smaller scale than Soliya, I enjoyed it so much more. A big part of that was meeting in person – it made the conversation feel genuine. It didn’t feel like we were doing it to fulfill a class assignment; it felt like an actual conversation. Soliya sometimes felt a bit performative – maybe that’s not the right word, but it was obvious that we were there because it was a requirement, and that limited the depth of our sessions honestly. Both experiences brought two sides of the world together, but at the Tahrir trip we were more at an advantage,  they came to meet us on our side, they spoke Arabic, our language. In Soliya we met them on their side, in English. Maybe that’s why I felt more comfortable on the trip.

The experience overall was mixed – there were moments that felt genuinely connecting, and moments where we were talking past each other. But even the friction was valuable. Real cross-cultural dialogue takes time and a willingness to sit with discomfort, and I think both experiences showed me that it is possible, even when it’s hard.