Month: November 2012

Yella Beena. A Night in #Tahrir.

And here we go. Yella beena.

Everyone gets a mask, just in case of more tear gas.

I am 5 foot 1″. Approximately 113 pounds. I’m an American. I shaved my head in March for pediatric cancer research, so my hair is short. This haircut gets many stares and comments. As does the fact that I’m obviously a foreign lady.

So when I occasionally decide to go out into places such as Tahrir Square, I take extra precautions.

Yesterday I walked through the crowd, 2 million strong, sandwiched between two dear Egyptian friends who had my back no matter what. At times, the mass of people was so packed we could not take a single step in any direction. This was not frightening at all because the atmosphere was cooperative. Many women and children in the crowd. A few moments edged on joyous as an elongated, enormous Egyptian flag was passed overhead. Beautiful fireworks above. We passed people selling cotton candy, sweet potatoes, beans, koshary, Kleenex, Guy Fawkes masks, clinical face masks, horns, cups of tea, water, flags, face paint of flags, and jester hats. Twice I passed a young girl of 7 or 8 lost in watching her own flag dance in the breeze.

There is a tent city in the middle of the square for vendor families, political groups, etc. to sleep or stay in as the week progresses. Three of the tents are for artists.

My friends and I sat in a small roped-off corner section with a group of young activists including a celebrity, an actress from local TV and cinema. She has a face which drew a large crowd of fans with eager cameras. One friend sitting in the center of the group started to lead us all into song, in particular The Ballad of Beans and Meat by Sheikh Imam, a leftist Egyptian singer and composer popular since the 1960s.

This all reminded me of a local pub. Where everybody knows your name. A reunion. Revolutionaries pulling the signs out of storage. Nostalgia and hope.

The Egyptians I spoke to know that the revolution is not as easy as those 18 days in 2011. Revolution is never easy. This is going to be a bumpy journey. But now has the feeling of a last chance to get the revolution back on course. You cannot replace a dictator with a pharaoh. You cannot build an Sharia-based constitution out of a cry for Freedom, Bread and Social Justice. Or can you?

Each area of Tahrir Square had a leader step up from the crowd to lead the others in songs or chants. An enthralling and powerful sound. Thousands more people joined in, marching from the far ends of Cairo, packing into the square as the night carried on.

Full moon overhead.

My friends and I went to one of the nearby buildings and walked up many flights because the elevator was not working. There’s a generously cool man named Pierre who opens his home overlooking Tahrir Square to photographers, bloggers, activists, and friends. Loved the signage around the apartment: “The balcony is not for use by professional media. If it makes you money, do it elsewhere.” and “This is a work space. If you are not working, go out to the streets and revolt.”

I followed the swelling Revolution sounds from below, stepped out onto the balcony with my iPhone camera ready to roll. And this is what I saw:

#Tahrir Square – Tuesday, 27 November 2012

 

#Tahrir Tent City

 

#Tahrir – Tuesday, 27 November 2012

The best sight of all was the field hospital on the corner of Talat Harb Street.

Empty.

Other than some small clashes over by the mosque and the north gate wall of the American Embassy, this was a peaceful and promising day. Unfortunately, this coming Saturday, the Muslim Brotherhood has declared they will be taking over Tahrir Square with their own demonstration. With liberal groups holding sit-ins and sleeping in their established tent city, this sounds like a recipe for bloodshed. It is worrying, to say the least. I will stay home on Saturday and apply for work with The Ford Foundation, Amnesty International, and any other opportunities I can find. My hope is that the people there in the square Saturday, on both sides, can learn from one another while sharing a cup of tea.

I also hope to do a short performance piece just outside the square. A dance where all who wish to can join in. Probably not Saturday, but soon.

Today, there are just small clashes between youngsters and police. I saw an 11-year-old at the Metro station with a face mask and a tear gas canister. Tear gas is the main issue. Much of the tear gas is expired and says Made in the USA. Interesting.

Papa John’s refused to deliver to my neighborhood tonight. So we called Pizza Hut. When the delivery man arrived, his face was red and he was crying from riding his motorcycle through all the tear gas. We gave the poor guy some vinegar to wipe his eyes, allowed him some time to recover, and on his way back out, I gave him my face mask (pictured above).

 

***The views and information presented in my blog are my own and do not represent the U.S. Department of State or the Fulbright Scholar Program.

Black Friday in Masr

When I wrote about the demonstrations in Cairo back in September…Thanksgiving seemed so far away. So did the violence. These were mostly strangers to me. And I was a stranger among them.

At that time, I walked into a bit of tear gas, but I also walked into great conversations and important steps toward cultural understanding. These protests seemed removed from my experience. I mostly watched the live streaming on my friend’s tv and it was over in a matter of hours. Then Greece kicked off. And other places around the world found their peaceful demonstrations turning to violence, not just here.

This week of turmoil in Cairo seems much different. Feels like it’s hitting home. Because some of those strangers became friends over the last couple months, and now here we are together. Cairo liberals are back to Mohammad Mahmoud Street. Remembering what happened here last year. For the sake of the martyrs. Those who lost their eyes. Those who lost their lives.

U.S. EMBASSY CAIRO SECURITY NOTIFICATION, 19 November 2012: Embassy Cairo wishes to inform U.S. citizens of ongoing protests and small scattered clashes in the area of Tahrir Square near Mohammad Mahmoud Street, including near the Embassy perimeter. This gathering is connected to calls by liberal groups to march to Mohamad Mahmoud Street today (and possibly through Friday) in recognition of the one year anniversary of the clashes near the Ministry of Interior that resulted in numerous casualties.

In addition to potential violence associated with this demonstration, traffic congestion may result in seeking alternate routes. Because of the potential danger associated with the clashes, personnel have been advised to temporarily avoid pedestrian movements outside the Embassy perimeter, exercise caution when driving in the downtown area, and to avoid the Sadat Metro Station until further notice.

People are on Mohammad Mahmoud to make way for some sort of version for the future. Some of whom are my friends. The day starts out with boisterous drumming and peaceful, chanting marches. Many children and families. Their flags and banners fly into the evening.

Demonstrator with banner and eyepatch in honor of the Mohamed Mahmoud Street martyrs from November 2011.

Young men climb atop the blockade walls, attempting to push down each of the giant concrete blocks. The blocks hit the ground in a dusty crash and the crowd roars. But it’s peaceful. Steps away, cotton candy is for sale. No pictures please because they don’t want anyone arrested: the prisons here are known for torture. Somewhere else down the road, the situation escalates and somebody’s sons feel brave enough (or have enough pent up anger) to step up to the front line and start hurling rocks. Eight trucks of police make their way to the square. I eat ice cream and go back to read in my apartment.

A march across Tahrir Square with banners of the martyrs.

The next day, after dinner, I hear shots being fired. Maybe rubber. I see smoke. Maybe tear gas. I hear screams and pounding. Maybe those young boys. My friend and I walk peacefully and somberly to get me to Arabic class. And the media focuses their cameras to the other side of the square, where big wigs from Hamas/Israel/Egypt are playing political games with their people and Secretary Hillary Clinton will soon make her secret entrance.

So strange. I went back to my apartment and there is not a single policeman guarding the embassies near my place. This is a first. They are always there. They must have been needed in the square. Oh my.

This is all in preparation for Friday. The big demonstration. People vow they will be on Mohammad Mahmoud every day until then. I hope that Black Friday here is productive, not violent, not a tangent. No more rocks and colorless tear gas. I hope for liberal collaboration and progress, for their voices to be heard and to be strong against bigotry/discrimination/conservatism by the current administration, constitutional assembly, and parliament. A somber and tense week when it seems that, once again, the future of Egypt is on the line.

Poster for this Friday’s demonstration on Mohamed Mahmoud Street, off Tahrir Square.

But the world is not focused on this action in Egypt right now. I have seen very few media. It’s not about Egypt. Or even Syria. All eyes on Tel Aviv and Gaza City. All eyes on the Palestinian and Israeli figure heads here in Cairo. All eyes on the U.S. economy kicking off Christmas season.

How will you spend this Friday? Shopping for your loved ones? Stocking up on gifts and necessities at discount prices? Trying desperately to steer your beloved country in a better direction? Supporting a striking Walmart employee? Trying to get a local shop into the black? Hugging your kid? Sleeping off the Thanksgiving turkey or koshary? We will all be doing something or other.

I will spend my Friday, not in Cairo, but traveling to Minia with a cohort of Fulbrighters for a Commission-sponsored trip. I will monitor what is happening here, there, and where you are. Do the same for me.

P.S. I wish you a happy Thanksgiving. May your Black Friday be filled with goodness. I am so thankful to be here.

 

***The views and information presented in my blog are my own and do not represent the U.S. Department of State or the Fulbright Scholar Program.

Look Where You’re Walking

Cairo has no sidewalks. No useful, obstacle-free sidewalks. Some have short palm trees with sharp leaves that you must dodge. Some have cracks and craters with no safety cones or warnings. Most lead to nowhere and require you to perform an entire Step Aerobics routine. Nowadays, post-revolution, sidewalks on the bridges are packed with plastic lawn chairs, the sign of illegal makeshift cafes. Sidewalks are also full of people. People strolling arm-in-arm incredibly slow, an entire family zooming dangerously close on a 1979 motorcycle, people out to harass or mug foreigners, gorgeous young couples in the most beautiful gowns and suits celebrating engagements, and women who can carry enormous bags and baskets on their heads.

It is a rare time when one can walk peacefully on a sidewalk for a long stretch of time in one direction. I got this gift yesterday afternoon.

Walking in Cairo

 

I walked the 20 minutes to Metro Market to get groceries. The sun was setting over the Nile. My thoughts were heavy. Weighed down by events on the Gaza/Israeli border. Weighed down by the horrors in nearby Syria. By the overwhelming poverty in Egypt. By the man on the bridge fishing in the Nile just for a chance to feed his family. By the horrid conditions of some state-run institutions here… schools, hospitals,… Weighed down by the decisions I have to make. Weighed down by the realization that I do not have enough money to make my dreams come true… in particular, the dreams of visiting Kenya, Uganda, Palestine, UAE, Bosnia, and my mother all in 2013. Weighed down by the cancers in and around us all.

But then the sun was setting over the Nile.

Something about the sun and the Nile made me stop.

Beautiful. Gamila. Falling in love with this city, faults and all.

Cairo is a place that sometimes makes you feel swallowed. It’s a spiral of activism and passivity, activism and passivity. A cycle of humor, hope, outrage and exasperation. The pollution is heavy. So is the smoking. Those 1970s motorcycles blow their exhaust right in your face. There is no place to sit at the crowded cafe. The buildings are leaning in. And the people put their hands on your back to shove you into the Metro train, right into a pile of sweaty men. These sweaty men are reaching for the handles above, so you get to enjoy your ride in the comfort of their armpits.

But back to the sunset and the Nile.

Horizon. Horizon. A bigger picture. I cannot put this into words. Sorry. It was simply perspective.

I stood there thinking of those who have lost their eyesight. Young men blinded during the revolution. Those who can no longer see the place they fought for. And those living with bullet wounds here in Egypt. Like my friend next to me, holding my hand perfectly as we walk on the nonexistent sidewalks. I thought of the folks who fought and won a revolution and are now watching disarray with heavy hearts. Like the heaviness I had. It is contagious and cyclical.

Thinking of those people here in Cairo who just shake their heads when they hear that thousands of their countrymen were bussed-in to Tahrir Square to demand that the new constitution be based on Sharia Law, like Saudi Arabia. The drafting of a new constitution is an understandably divisive issue.

In the face of all this, I am inspired by those who lost their eyes to Mubarak’s bullets and yet maintain their vision and the skip in their step. Yeah, I’m thinking of them.

Keep walking, my friends. That’s the only way to see the horizon.

 

***The views and information presented in my blog are my own and do not represent the U.S. Department of State or the Fulbright Scholar Program.

Viagra Politics

Before I came to Egypt, I had several online friend requests from Egyptian men. Some of them I knew, or thought I knew, as friends of friends within the two international network groups I belong to. One of these fellas started sending bizarre messages and I did not respond. One of these messages said to meet him in Tahrir Square, and that he wanted to show me the secret of Egypt.

Well, ever since I received this message, my friends and I have joked plenty about what “the secret of Egypt” may be. A running joke. Last week we were walking past a Cook Door (fast food chain) and I shouted out, “I found it! This is the secret!”

The sign read…

VIAGRA

Viagra in Cairo

 

“Ah,” I said, “You all put Viagra in the sandwiches! That’s the secret of Egypt!”

We laughed, out loud, for quite awhile. Turns out that viagra is the translation of seafood salad.

 

In a country with such a verile atmosphere, this joke got me thinking. I started to notice the phallic quality of the obelisks and other modern sculptures. And had to explain the word phallic to my Egyptian friends. Despite the harassment and machismo en masse here, most Egyptian men have this gentle side when it comes to others. They may have an adversarial stance or opinion, but will treat you kindly. Kind to the American people, kind to Jewish people, friends and strangers alike.

And this all got thinking about the responses of my Egyptian friends who were with me watching the U.S.presidential debate on foreign policy a couple weeks ago. Screaming at the television as soon as Mitt Romney opened his mouth about Egypt and when he showed his macho, warmongering tendencies. I’m sorry, Mr. Romney, bullying is not foreign policy. America needs to think with its brain, act with its heart, compassionate for the world, including the Muslim world… not let the Cialis do the thinking for our nation.

Last night, I went to an all-night election night party with U.S. Embassy staff and Egyptian friends. Again, the crowd was entirely pro-Obama, anti-Romney. Maybe they were more pro-Palestine, pro-Peace. In any case the party went until 6:21 AM  when President Barack Hussein Obama won his second term. And when three more states approved gay marriage. And Mr. Akin was defeated. And my hopes for a forward-thinking, progressive goodhearted America were revived.

Other news from Egypt…

  • Vendors are turning the 3-lane streets downtown into packed, one-lane messes, taking over the road with their racks of fake Nike hoodies. This is illegal, but law and order are up in the air air here these days.
  • Egypt’s new Coptic Pope was selected by a blind-folded boy picking a piece of paper from a crystal bowl.
  • Egyptians celebrated Eid Al-Adha by spending time with family, buying new outfits, gifting children money, eating eating eating, and sacrificing sheep and cows right there on the city sidewalks. Smiles everywhere.
  • Ladies here use their hijabs to turn their cell phones into hands-free devices.
  • The topic of conversation at the late-night cafes is Hurricane Sandy and the well-wishes being sent from Egyptians to East Coasters.
  • For Halloween this year, I was Sakina. She was a murderess in Alexandria in the 1920s. Killed nearly twenty women for their gold. She and her sister were the first-ever women to receive the death penalty in Egypt.
  • I got to spend the vacation week in a place Cleopatra chose as her prime resort, Marsa Matruh. Paradise on the Mediterranean Sea, undisturbed by boats or planes. But I kept looking for the Cialis bathtubs.

Cleopatra’s Bath in Marsa Matruh

 

***The views and information presented in my blog are my own and do not represent the U.S. Department of State or the Fulbright Scholar Program.

 

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