tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89680811158065837972024-02-18T17:47:03.338-08:00Traveler in an Antique LandNotes from Egypt.Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-32264261871399087782012-10-29T16:18:00.000-07:002012-10-29T16:50:57.233-07:00Words in Transit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Your average Egyptian doesn’t read much other than the Quran
and the newspaper on a daily basis.
People aren’t reading novels on the subway like they do in transit in
NYC; rather, a man’s beard peaks out from his daily, a woman’s lips move with
the rhythmic verses of the holy Islamic text. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So I was pleasantly surprised when my neighbor on the bus to
Cairo asked to leaf through the underlined pages of my Naguib Mahfouz short
stories. Naguib Mahfouz is the father of
Egyptian written expression, who dug up the rugged charm of Cairo’s dusty
alleyways and Egypt’s colonial and revolutionary history, re-enamoring millions
of Egyptians with their country and sharing the real Egypt and her people with
the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Soon after Naguib Mahfouz broke the ice, Madame Ibtisam was
programming her number into my phone and telling me how I would come over and
she’d cook me <i>molokhiyya, </i>Egyptian
spinach soup. She announced that she
used to work some job in the public sector, had three children - “<i>Alhamdulillah, </i>praise be to God” - and a
husband who had passed away 15 years ago. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“We used to go to Agamy in the height of winter,” she gushed
fondly of him. Agamy is a suburb of
crisp Mediterranean beaches outside of Alexandria where folks go to escape the city. “It was freezing. Wrapped in our thickest jackets, we would
stroll down the beach together – our love kept us warm. We would collect sea shells and glass
softened by the waves to put in jars to decorate my husband’s pharmacy.” She wasn’t sad at all; in fact, her face was awash
with the meaning of her name, <i>Ibtisam, </i>smile. She was just blissfully nostalgic,
transported back to that bleak blue ocean whipped up by the ashy winter clouds,
her husband by her side.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I like how you’ve underlined some things,
a lot of it is the romantic parts,” she noted coyly. “Are you a romantic?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I guess so,” I shrugged my
shoulders, bringing a shade of pink to my cheeks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Like this, here.” Madame Ibtisam traced a chubby and callused
finger over an underlined passage and held the novel between us. With Naguib Mafouz’s help, we silently shared
a million love stories, hers, Egyptians’, and mine.<br />
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<o:p> </o:p><span style="text-align: right;">عرفت الحب لأول مرة في حياتي. إنه كالموت تسمع عنه كل حين خبراً ولكنك لا تعرف إلا إذا حضر. وهو قوة طاغية يلتهم فريسته، يسلبه أي قوة دفاع، يطمس عقله وإدراكه، يصبّ الجنون في جوفه حتى يطفح به، إنه العذاب والسرور واللانهائي. تلاشى شخصي القديم تماما وحل محله آخر بلا تراث ولامبادئ، ينقض على مصيره بعينين معصوبتين.</span> </blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“I knew love for the first time in my life. I learned that it is like death; you hear all sorts of things about it, but you don’t know unless you’ve attended. It is an oppressive force that devours its prey, depriving it of any defensive strength, wiping out its reason and consciousness, filling its empty cavity with a madness until it overflows. I learned that it is torture and joy and the infinite. The person I was faded away completely and was replaced by one without tradition<span lang="ES-TRAD"> or </span>principles<span lang="ES-TRAD"> who went up against his fate with blindfolded eyes.”</span></i></span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-"Love Above the Pyramid Plateau: The Light of the Moon", short stories by Naguib Mahfouz</span></blockquote>
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“How do you know her?”
My friend Hadir has just put me in the first empty cab to pull up to the
square below her apartment in the chic neighborhood of Zamalek. The cab
driver and she exchange startled looks and then a laugh over some shared
memory.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“She rode with me a couple times.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Oh, what a funny coincidence.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“It’s so crazy, she looks like a boy, but she has a chest and
everything. In the morning she could go
out as a boy, and then in the evening, she could go out as a girl, if she wanted!” I roll my eyes, now used to Egyptians’
inability to figure Hadir out. You could
say she’d fit right in on Smith campus in a feminist literature class with a
bunch of other butch chicks. People
stare at her all the time in utter confusion, and often address her with the
male “you”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“No,” I correct, “I’m actually positive that she’s just a
girl, all the time.<br />
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> A minute later, he asks, “You’re not
Egyptian, are you?”</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Nope.” I don’t feel
like divulging my nationality tonight, and he doesn’t press me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“It’s better that way.
Egyptians are no good.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“What do you mean?!
Egyptians are the best!” I am
shocked at his condemnation, since I’ve heard many an Egyptian claim that his
people are truly the best on the planet.
Many of them claim to know that even without having left their country’s borders,
much less Cairo’s!<o:p></o:p></div>
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“No, no, they’re no good.
Well, half of them are good, the men are good. Not the women, though.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You mean to tell me that <i>all</i>
Egyptian <i>women</i> are no good?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Exactly, the women are awful.” There’s an Egyptian proverb that if a man is
grumpy, his woman must be giving him a hard time at home. I can’t get a feel for this guy, though – is
he open to humor and sarcasm, or would he be irked that a foreign woman is
pushing his buttons? Either way, I’m feeling
sassy tonight and don’t feel like taking any chauvinism or idiocy. I decide to leave his woman out of it and take
a different angle.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Well, actually, I think you have the wrong half of the
population. I think the men are the worst
part of Egyptian society.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“No, no, you’re wrong there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Tell that to all the women who get harassed and groped every
day in the streets by rude men.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Nooo, ever girl likes to get harassed. Every girl likes to hear ‘sweet thing’, or
that they’re beautiful.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I’ve heard far nastier than that. What about those men?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Well, they’re rude.
But that’s not what really happens.”
It is clear my feminist rampage is going nowhere. Our conversation leads us to his asking what
I am doing here anyway, so I tell him about my Arabic studies.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Do people in your program study the Quran and Islam?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Yea, sure, all the time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Anyone with an ounce of understanding and smarts who reads
the Quran will convert to Islam.” His
eyes bore back at me through the rearview mirror.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Well, sometimes they’re studying it in a more academic
context, or in comparison to other religions like Judaism and Christianity.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“The only things we share with Judaism and Christianity are
the 10 commandments that God sent down to Jesus, Moses, and Mohammed. You know, don’t steal and don’t kill, the
basics. But if someone reads the Quran,
they will, they <i>must</i>, convert to
Islam.” So much finger wagging ensues in
this sentence that I feel more nervous than usual winding among Cairo’s
sadistic streets and drivers.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Well, there’s also the linguistic value of the Quran. It’s the epitome of the Arabic language, so others
study it for that reason.” He scoops up
my compliment to his heritage. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Arabic is truly an amazing language, isn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I’ve been studying it for five years, and I learn something
new every day,” I offer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I’ve been speaking it for 46 years, and I learn something
new every day!” He slaps the steering wheel
in a hoarse guffaw.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Somehow, our conversation meanders to the Russians who
permeate the Sinai peninsula’s resorts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Russian women are <i>beetches</i>. They just want to marry rich Egyptian men.” He pauses, searching for a tactful in. “I’ll marry you if you want, and then you can
get Egyptian citizenship. How old are
you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“A lot younger than you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“How old do you think I am?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You told me, 46 years old.
Which is too old for me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Well, just offering!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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I bemusedly get out of the cab before he can ask for my
number in order to make good on his marriage proposal. It’s just another night in Cairo.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-35096234248255035772012-06-15T07:46:00.000-07:002012-07-17T13:09:13.640-07:00The Traitor or The Killer?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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“We have no choice.”
That is the most common refrain one hears rolling off Egyptians’ tongues
these days when asked about the presidential elections. Their tone drips with disappointment and
frustration. The fascinating part is
that you will hear this from Egyptians of all colors, liberals, Christians,
Muslims, and it’s not because they agree.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first round of elections surprised many. I remember watching the results trickle in at
an Egyptian friend’s house. The fact
that the Muslim Brotherhood’s candidate, Mohammad Morsi, was in first place with
25% of the vote was no shocker, considering the amount of money the Brotherhood
had put into the campaign and the way they exploited networks that they have been
nurturing for years with charitable social programming. What threw everyone for a loop was Ahmed
Shafiq’s close tailing of Morsi with 24% of the vote; Shafiq is a pillar of the
military, was Mubarak’s aviation chief, and then was his last prime minister
before protesters demanded he leave office in March of 2011. He is the epitome of <i>falool</i>, a “remnant”
of the old regime, and most were expecting the other leftover to do well, Amr
Moussa, but he came in last out of the five strongest candidates. The other black horse was socialist candidate
Hamdeen Sabahy, who came in third by gathering most of the revolutionary vote,
while liberal Islamist Abdal Moneim Abo alFatouh came in third. Many of my young liberal Muslim friends
lamented the fact that revolutionary forces did not coalesce around one
candidate, either Sabahy or Abo alFatouh, which would have possibly enabled
them to propel a candidate representative of the revolution into the runoff. Shafiq and Morsi were both able to exploit mostly
rural networks based on clientelistic and familial ties, whereas the
revolutionary candidates swept city votes based more on ideology. How bitterly ironic that a revolution meant
to topple a broken system has led to elections between that very same
corruption and the forces that were always its worst enemy, the Muslim
Brotherhood. The most pessimistic see
this election as one between a traitor and a killer, the traitor being Morsi
and the Brotherhood for how they have failed to protect the revolution, and the
killer being Shafiq, for his compliance with the Mubarak regime.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJiEEvczo6BzgrNWCiYtX3xGFQRIBtmW2ohMONF79A8eJ7eAKu3WHMI7BNxfZa4Pyuk7hKrv9IPufWLhBKJ7zRGJxTqN2nOVZlrRLagNydSfqwSzLLqcTkV-sGSsFrZ7y7lU05Ll8KBrt/s1600/brotherhood-military.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJiEEvczo6BzgrNWCiYtX3xGFQRIBtmW2ohMONF79A8eJ7eAKu3WHMI7BNxfZa4Pyuk7hKrv9IPufWLhBKJ7zRGJxTqN2nOVZlrRLagNydSfqwSzLLqcTkV-sGSsFrZ7y7lU05Ll8KBrt/s400/brotherhood-military.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cartoon floating around Facebook, by Amr Okasha</td></tr>
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Of course, questions have been asked, doubts fielded, accusations
hurled, about whether or not these were truly fair elections. There is no doubt that there was nowhere near
the level of widespread fraud that dominated Mubarak’s years, but there were
certainly concerning discrepancies, such as stations not being monitored, a
random box of ballots being found in the desert, and candidates either paying
money or food to voters. I know many who
allege that there is no way elections could be free and fair under the
military.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Before I delve into the three different ways in which
Egyptians “have no choice”, it’s worth noting how low voter turnout was. Only 46% of registered voters cast ballots,
compared to 54% in the parliamentary elections last fall. That’s not to say we have a much better rate
in the states, and we could speculate to no end about why voters don’t go to
the polls. But one thing that struck me
is that Egypt has no absentee voting system, forcing voters to return to where
they are registered if they intend to vote.
In a country with many workers who migrate from the countryside to Cairo
and Alexandria, many are hard-pressed to find the time and funds to return
sometimes extremely long distances to scribble down their vote. During the first round on May 23<sup>rd</sup>
and 24<sup>th</sup>, I asked the man who works in the kiosk across the street
if he had voted. When he responded “Not
yet,” I asked him what he was waiting for?
He then explained to me that he is from alMinya, which would take at
least 10 hours to reach by bus or train, and I’ve never seen a day where that
man is not filling grocery bags at that kiosk.
This is just something to keep in mind as we see the elections results,
particularly since an even lower turnout is expected in the second round: only
about half of Egyptians are choosing their president!<o:p></o:p></div>
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“We have no choice,” the girl giving me a manicure said,
shaking her head. “I’m voting for
Shafiq.” She went on to explain that,
even as a Muslim, she was scared that under Morsi and the Brotherhood’s
presidency, Egypt would turn into Iran, where civil liberties are limited and
women are forced to cover their heads.
My taxi driver earlier that day had told me that originally he worked in
tourism and had only started driving a cab when all the tourists fled after the
revolution, so naturally, he, too, would cast his ballot for Shafiq. It is widely believed that Shafiq will restore
security to the country, and thus bring back tourism, which speaks to many who
have just been plain terrified in the last year, what with numerous violent
clashes and a slight rise in other crime.
You must understand that crime just doesn’t happen in Egypt, not even in
Cairo, a city of anywhere from 18-24 million; stealing or killing is considered
<i>haram</i> in religion, and communities are just very tight-knit. So for Egyptians, the security vacuum since
Mubarak stepped down has been tangible and deeply unsettling, and Shafiq has
boasted he will restore security in as little as six hours! Many Christians feel that Shafiq is their
only choice, since in an Islamic state they will truly lose their place in
their homeland. Liberals say you can’t
trust the Brotherhood, given their constant flip-flopping in the last year in
the interest of grabbing power. Others
argue Shafiq should be given a fair chance, since he was only prime minister
for a month or two before popular demands labeled him as Mubarak’s crony and
forced him to step down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaYh_lRJKVsVtYqkUMUqdx6XVXAR_jBBUJ1pM3So3hbMceeEONv5dQbjmtdl5L3UPt8OW2ZqMWLhro5gNXGrYY_141gZp5sAXPHP3xO4SDVVTYX1M73BpFAe0bpAPp-tEdnvhDHpb1F_9i/s1600/shafiq+asshole.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaYh_lRJKVsVtYqkUMUqdx6XVXAR_jBBUJ1pM3So3hbMceeEONv5dQbjmtdl5L3UPt8OW2ZqMWLhro5gNXGrYY_141gZp5sAXPHP3xO4SDVVTYX1M73BpFAe0bpAPp-tEdnvhDHpb1F_9i/s200/shafiq+asshole.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahmed Shafiq</td></tr>
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“We have no choice,” said the man selling fruit on my
block. “We have to elect Morsi, or else
it’s like the revolution didn’t even happen.” Shafiq is a carbon copy of Mubarak, in both
his mannerisms and his ties to the military and the corrupt business elite. He is even accused of being involved in pitting
security forces against protesters during the revolution, and many see him as a
killer. If he comes into power, many of
my young friends fear that the military will remain the “state above the state”,
with its economic holdings and budget kept secret and safe. Over dinner last night, my friend Mahmoud and
I laughed over Shafiq’s claim that he will restore security in six hours, but
his attempts to do so would undoubtedly include random detentions and arrests
of journalists and protesters, and the security state would be as strong as
ever. On Facebook after it was learned
that Shafiq would be in the runoff, I saw a joke that read, “Breaking news:
Mubarak dies of laughter at the people”, referring to the absurdity of the same
regime coming back to power so soon. At
least, Mahmoud says, the Brotherhood recognizes the revolution and has
participated in it to varying degrees; they deserve a chance to prove
themselves to the people.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKqI815_s0ZRme0W3WJSR9AOWYwi9Cktd-2n_ZCE3zjU1a_Xx7zylpqSRgHfqHhqOdOMbDnH5xaDNjchnKrBj0PYnXF8yogljYT_V7EaApQBJAm9ZHIT-5U8hyphenhyphenysu-zsUqlk7Gjg7idjtn/s1600/morsi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKqI815_s0ZRme0W3WJSR9AOWYwi9Cktd-2n_ZCE3zjU1a_Xx7zylpqSRgHfqHhqOdOMbDnH5xaDNjchnKrBj0PYnXF8yogljYT_V7EaApQBJAm9ZHIT-5U8hyphenhyphenysu-zsUqlk7Gjg7idjtn/s320/morsi.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mohammad Morsi</td></tr>
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“We have no choice,” said my friend Ahmed. “I’ll either boycott, or nullify my ballot.” This is a stance that has gained some
traction recently, although it remains relegated to a small segment of society mainly
consisting of young liberals. Nullifying
their ballot means they will go vote, but write something inappropriate that
will make their vote not count: these ballots are still counted in total voter
turnout, which seems to give it more legitimacy to me. Ahmed plans on writing, “<i>Yasqut, yasqut
hokm alaskr</i> – Down, down with military rule.” I don’t see this action as being able to
affect the outcome or public opinion very much, but it will certainly empower
those that participate, and it will demonstrate that all of Egypt is not
electing one of these two worst-case scenario candidates. These will be the people that go down to
Egypt’s squares again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Amidst the depression at having no choice and being forced
to choose between two, there is other political drama at which to balk and pull
one’s hair out. On June 2<sup>nd</sup>,
Hosni Mubarak and his interior minister, Habib alAdly, were sentenced to life
in prison on charges of not having done anything to <i>stop</i> <i>the killing</i>
of protesters<i>.</i> The charges were
legally very weak, obviously meant to satisfy the masses, and on appeal, their
sentences will likely be reduced. Even
life in prison is not enough for many furious at the deaths of almost 1000
revolutionary martyrs, and Egyptians poured into Egypt’s squares in throngs
after this verdict. They are also livid
about the fact that a number of high-level police officers were <i>acquitted </i>of
any charges of killing unarmed protesters, as if those people just killed
themselves. Mubarak’s sons got off on
corruption charges with a slap on the wrist.
Shafiq himself, called as a witness to testify at the trial for one of
the most important and tragic battles of the revolution, the Battle of the
Camel, didn’t even show up to trial, showing how much he cares for
justice. More innocent sentences get
passed down to the <i>falool </i>and their cronies on a daily basis. Furthermore, yesterday, a third of the
parliament was dissolved by the courts, ruling that single-seat representatives
were unconstitutional. Morsi’s and Shafiq’s
camps bombard each other daily with vile claims (just like in America!), but
behind the scenes, it seems that Shafiq has promised to stack his Cabinet with
Brotherhood members. It looks more and
more likely that with the army’s backing, Shafiq will indeed become Egypt’s
next president.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Egyptians are tired, but not yet
defeated, and with the unwavering strength and determination that characterizes
these peoples, they seem ready to stand tall and take whoever comes their
way. At my fruit stand, the fruit seller
shrugged his shoulders at his lack of presidential options, saying they could
always vote for someone else after four years if nothing went well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What if Morsi or Shafiq reinstate
emergency law or just don’t allow elections to happen again in four years?” I
asked, playing devil’s advocate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, then we know the way
to Tahrir Square now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let’s hope he is right.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-64420460815444698702012-05-22T03:05:00.000-07:002012-05-22T03:06:10.019-07:00The President<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The
election season has flown by in live color and raw sound. My eyes still widening from my morning
NesCafe, my cab swishes by a billboard with a stern face promising jobs and a
strong Egypt. The newspaper stands
on my way to lunch are riddled with headlines of the latest developments in the
dramatic race. After the heat has
overcome the city, my afternoon cab swerves around a dozen supporters holding
their candidate’s sign. Popping by
my neighborhood fruit stand on my way home, an interview with leading
candidates blares out through rows of peaches and mangos. Egypt votes for a president on
Wednesday. Egypt is choosing its
leader in what will hopefully be its first fair presidential elections since
its independence in 1952. This is
history, and Egyptians are making it.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_JZ-FnUAPmvGLhq44Jz-W9P2i6G81CY4fcJcnOQ-aQSNCIk2l6eyc7eg6dhOqghB7f6mTyVFOk5WhFrzj1dC39murXmrV2-SqT1Njwn5eNhMA6HrLez_20X0b_MNXpFtWVnq7fD1kROY/s1600/100_5544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_JZ-FnUAPmvGLhq44Jz-W9P2i6G81CY4fcJcnOQ-aQSNCIk2l6eyc7eg6dhOqghB7f6mTyVFOk5WhFrzj1dC39murXmrV2-SqT1Njwn5eNhMA6HrLez_20X0b_MNXpFtWVnq7fD1kROY/s320/100_5544.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Candidates' faces whizz by on my morning cab ride to work</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Did
you see the march?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“What
march?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“For
Abu Ismail!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All
the doormen in Ayman’s building were giddy with political excitement about the
nearby crowds. It was almost
midnight on a Wednesday, and thousands of Salafists, rather fundamentalist Islamists, had taken to the streets
with “God is great” chants and fireworks in support of their favored candidate,
conservative sheikh Hazem Salah Abu Ismail. After weeks of rumors and accusations, Abu Ismail’s mother
had been found </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to have American
citizenship, which would have banned him from running according to some bizarre
Egyptian law. I seized on the
moment to ask Ayman, my doorman friend, who he would give his
vote to (though my wording may sound strange, that is how it is phrased here in
Arabic). Instead of spitting out a
name, he confessed to me how scared he was of a religious candidate coming to
power and how adamantly he believed religion and politics should be entirely
separate. This shocked me, since
religion plays such a prevalent role here. He went on to explain that he felt the Muslim Brotherhood
and the Salafists had proven themselves liars, traitors to the revolution, and
since coming to power with 70% of the Parliament’s seats, nothing had
transpired other than theater and lies.</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fieII8oHXg1ulUVxQz1CG7RQ29GGw2ECjredKY0JTGZw20_H3f69g_fqC6DptEZgnQfdnv7Coe-JzstnoVTw3FtJzgfUrrIXlm4j5xlZrkCg_LqETlOGxliA2X2xHJexLijT4PUGMCB-/s1600/640x392_96914_205740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fieII8oHXg1ulUVxQz1CG7RQ29GGw2ECjredKY0JTGZw20_H3f69g_fqC6DptEZgnQfdnv7Coe-JzstnoVTw3FtJzgfUrrIXlm4j5xlZrkCg_LqETlOGxliA2X2xHJexLijT4PUGMCB-/s320/640x392_96914_205740.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Campaign banner for disqualified Salafist candidate Abu Ismail</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As
I was leaving, Ayman told me that he would be observing an election site
somewhere in Cairo, as he has a part-time government job in a community center
in his neighborhood. He recalled
an anecdote during the parliamentary elections of 2010, which, like all
previous elections, had been rigged in favor of Mubarak’s party. He was at his assigned election site
when a soldier walked in - “He said his name was Nadar, I’ll never forget his
name.” The soldier spoke with
Ayman, who was then forced to stand by while he and a couple other
cronies stuffed the ballot box with a couple thousand ballots. “Whoever we get next will be better
than going back to that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Abo
al-Fatouh,” Karim told me, almost cautiously, once we inevitably got onto the
subject of the presidential elections.
Mamdouh nodded alongside him, and it all clicked for me. Abdul Moneim Abo al-Fatouh appeared to be the bridge that
could connect secularists and Muslims in a country where religion is a
constant, but not without much toil and debate. For many of my young, liberal, Muslim friends, he squarely
represents their worldviews, including their support of the revolution and
their backgrounds as Muslims.
Having once been part of the Muslim Brotherhood, he started to break
with the organization as his Islamic philosophy became more and more steeped
with liberal openness. He
officially broke with them after announcing his bid for presidency in the wake
of the revolution, which the Brotherhood at the time forbade. Abo al-Fatouh seems to me someone that
can appeal to large segments of society: a friend went to one of his rallies
and described its energy as akin to Obama’s 2008 campaign.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsb_uRdqlXJb_bRTLGxmDjoc2TF8gcdi9UJCKqX8WYUf0w_IWgeJ-eM3oSBm582C4C6KFRDFoRlKANEMoYpKao-Tvte9GhVeVyzrGcYIwRdEMe19X-Rs1MY0rOfSVpmBGql3SNEuE0Lsh2/s400/100_5551.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Campagin poster for Abdul Moneim Abo alFatouh</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The
other candidate who speaks to liberal secularists is Hamdeen Sabahy, a
firecracker leftist who had been opposing Mubarak’s party in parliament for
years and joining activists in all sorts of protests. Miriam, my colleague at work told me she respects him, but
she is uncomfortable with his socialist background.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Seriously,
Amr Moussa?!” I shrieked at my friend Amir in shock. Only a month or two before, we had watched a talk show
interview with the former Mubarak statesman in which the man spent the whole
interview regaling the audience with his heroic anti-Israeli antics during his
tenure as Mubarak’s foreign minister, during which he broke with regime policy
on the loathed Israel. The former
minister has been campaigning strongly with lots of funds, and friends have
told me they fear his exploiting the popularity of his name and reputation and
using his financial prowess to convince entire families to vote for him. Uneducated people in the countryside
don’t need much convincing to vote for someone; since little interest is shown
in their villages, if a candidate makes a visit, he is more or less guaranteed
a vote. This is so indicative of
the lack of political education here, in that a decision is not made based on
who presents the best campaign and solutions, but rather, on where and at who
money is thrown.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Some
people see Moussa as being of the "</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">faloul"</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">:
this word refers to the remnants of the former regime, and is generally not
said as a compliment. A few weeks
ago, there was a Friday protest against the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">faloul</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, who at the time also included Omar Suleiman, the
notorious chief of intelligence in Mubarak’s regime who was appointed vice
president after the revolution in an attempt to placate the masses; that
obviously failed, and he was in fact the one to announce Mubarak’s
resignation. The other holdover
from the Mubarak regime is Ahmed Shafiq, former aviation minister, and the last
prime minister appointed by Mubarak before the revolution.</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimb3S8Fv2H-oqmMKtQJU9Qg3y32imrUdH2wDYrYtpAAA7xDpP2rRsy_tqT40ygaJbWXozby1QukAK0u-y9LZf4Ct-F1-kTehhtfyPnOIGZ7qcoyM6iEqqWgXIrcdtic4h-KTSc_3g7uLJ3/s1600/100_5542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimb3S8Fv2H-oqmMKtQJU9Qg3y32imrUdH2wDYrYtpAAA7xDpP2rRsy_tqT40ygaJbWXozby1QukAK0u-y9LZf4Ct-F1-kTehhtfyPnOIGZ7qcoyM6iEqqWgXIrcdtic4h-KTSc_3g7uLJ3/s400/100_5542.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Amr Moussa campaign poster</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Although
one might think these </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">faloul</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> figures
would be ostracized and hated, the two leftovers, Amr Moussa and Ahmed Shafiq,
enjoy seats at the top of the polls only 24 hours before they open. This is because Egyptians also crave
stability right now, and being practical, they see that only strong statesmen
with experience in politics can set Egypt on the right course. Christians like my colleague Miriam are
also drawn to these secular </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">faloul </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">candidates,
since they truly dread the possibility of an extremist Islamist government
grabbing power. The sentiment of
wanting someone who will fix what is broken makes sense. It doesn’t matter that Shafiq sounds
like a broken record of Mubarak in his speeches; he has the political prowess
to comfort people. Egyptians have
had a traumatizing year since their revolution broke out: they have lost
hundreds of youth to police batons and army tanks, the economy has tanked,
security fears have become rampant, there are shortages of gas and other goods,
and well, not much has changed, or at least not </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">enough.</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I
was also with Amir the night we heard about the “</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">istiba’ad</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">”, the expulsion of a number of top contenders for
the presidency by the election council.
This was such a game-changer that Amir and I both took it for a joke at
first. But it was soon confirmed
that Salafist candidate Abu Ismail had indeed been banned, as had former spy
chief Omar Suleiman, and the charismatic adviser and financier of the Muslim
Brotherhood, Khairat alShater (who I think would have won otherwise.)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I’m
sick of politics. I’m just totally
tired of all the drama,” Gamal threw his hands up in the air at my inquisitive
question about whom he would vote for.
His sentiments were understandable, what with the explosive roller
coaster ride the contest has been.
Every day has been a new allegation hurled from one political stronghold
to the next, a new law drafted to ban remnants of the former regime, or en
entirely new candidate! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“So,
have you made a decision, then?” I
pressed Gamal, half sarcastically, but also truly curious about whom this
pious, intelligent, and simple man wanted to lead his nation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I’m
just observing it all right now, gathering information, I don’t think I’ll make
my decision until the last minute.”
I told Gamal I liked his approach; it reminded me of my first time
voting in the 2008 primaries, between Obama and Hillary. Gamal is pretty religious,
so I pried him about whether or not he would be voting for Mohammad Morsi, the
candidate the Muslim Brotherhood ended up fielding after their previous
candidate, Khairat alShatr was banned.
He told me did indeed want Islam to be a greater part of government, but
that he was not sure he trusted the Brotherhood anymore.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZLdImwig-u5_84Kkmu4w0khpLeFYdAaAn1RNARtIdNYoOZm1_kKxAJ3TmlvJ4pX8gTtK1iLLBXjtgXPcDmqS4nmARGdBfk9kClzFSKJD4mMioWKdfdWye2e29gCpMj_a26dxbSMz-n3Q/s1600/100_5545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZLdImwig-u5_84Kkmu4w0khpLeFYdAaAn1RNARtIdNYoOZm1_kKxAJ3TmlvJ4pX8gTtK1iLLBXjtgXPcDmqS4nmARGdBfk9kClzFSKJD4mMioWKdfdWye2e29gCpMj_a26dxbSMz-n3Q/s400/100_5545.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Billboard for Mohammad Morsi, the Muslim Brotherhood candidate</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
***<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Even
with only a day left before polls open, I speak with Egyptians like Gamal and
Miriam who are still on the fence, still weighing the options, still
contemplating who it is they want to lead their beloved nation. The first round of elections will be spread
out over two days this week, Wednesday and Thursday, with a likely runoff
taking place in mid-June. Egypt’s
new president should be announced by June 21st. People generally seem optimistic that
things will be peaceful, although there are worries that after the final result
in June people could take to the streets in fury if their candidates do not
win, or if the military council goes back on its word and does not hand over
power.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Will
the elections be clean? More or
less, if you don’t count the Muslim Brotherhood handing out packs of sugar or kilos
of meat to sway voters, or the general inefficacy of Egyptian bureaucracy. Will the SCAF support a certain
candidate and refuse to respect the will of the people? Everyone hopes not. Will Egypt be able to change course
under the guidance of a democratically-elected president? That’s the idea, but ultimately, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Allahu
a’aalam</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, only God knows, so, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">khair</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">in sha Allah</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, hopefully, all goes well.</span></span></div>
</div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-18471769298049994632012-01-26T12:52:00.000-08:002012-01-26T12:52:26.820-08:00January 25th, One Year Later<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A year ago today, on January 25th, 2011, Egypt rose up. After 18 days of protests and close to one thousand deaths, Egyptians succeeded in ousting Hosni Mubarak after 30 years of dictatorship. Today, millions of them returned to the country's square with the same courage, humor, and fervor that characterized their uprising a year ago. Some were celebrating the glory and bravery of their revolution. All were mourning the martyrs that were killed by security forces during those 18 days and in the ensuing year. Many feel that their revolution is incomplete, and seek to reclaim it and topple the military rule that is plaguing the country.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In the weeks leading up to the year mark of the January 25<sup>th</sup> Revolution, the debate swirled around whether the day should be one of remembrance and celebration, or one of renewed revolt and protest against what many see as the same fraudulent negligence, only wearing a military uniform. It was clear to me that the energy that unified Egyptians for the 18 days before Mubarak’s expulsion was lacking, perhaps because there is no longer a common enemy. Liberally inclined folks wager that the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) has struck an informal deal with the Muslim Brotherhood to ensure that both wield power, so they fire their criticism at both the military and the newly elected religious politicians. A larger segment of society is also dissatisfied with the sloppiness that has distinguished the military-led transitional period, which has most glaringly included violent infractions that have left scores dead. Then there is what many sarcastically refer to as the Couch Party, who don’t care much for politics, and merely want stability; some of them blame the revolutionaries for creating chaos. Then you have conspiracy theorists who point fingers at faceless thugs (<i>boltagiyya) </i>who want to “burn and destroy Egypt” for no apparent reason, as my raving taxi driver explained to me yesterday. Needless to say, when lots of Egyptians get together and talk politics, there is a lot of gesticulating and yelling and very little consensus, although everyone agrees on their love for Egypt.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When I met a group of Egyptian friends at Cairo University to march to Tahrir Square, the atmosphere was unmistakably political. Many of the chants and signs demanded the military hand over power to a civilian government immediately and face punishment for its actions. They were unmoved by the SCAF’s recent concessions, including the release of about two thousand political prisoners and the repeal of emergency law (except in cases of “thuggery”, which leaves the door wide open to interpretation). These mostly young people were remembering, too, many of them wearing masks or holding photos of the martyrs who had been killed in the last year’s violence. As we set off beneath the sun glinting off the red, white, and black of the Egyptian flag, the students’ voice rose escalated with demands of fair trials, freedom, a civil state, social justice, and the return of the military to their barracks. <o:p></o:p></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE2lWCB7VPk-1Jjpy_TU3SFvQ_xDAk2kVLYzgpqyZgp8JzG-4t4e1Jcs2wc4w1MJ8xhHKGKgc_rlfZwewUynXSMfte_sJ2lOcRg18Axq2TNvoAqdrjx5tTB_FvhXNUwrA_uwNS3w4btUaB/s1600/324768_10150563708853679_515513678_8930545_741694206_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE2lWCB7VPk-1Jjpy_TU3SFvQ_xDAk2kVLYzgpqyZgp8JzG-4t4e1Jcs2wc4w1MJ8xhHKGKgc_rlfZwewUynXSMfte_sJ2lOcRg18Axq2TNvoAqdrjx5tTB_FvhXNUwrA_uwNS3w4btUaB/s320/324768_10150563708853679_515513678_8930545_741694206_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friends and me in the march from Cairo University<br />
to Tahrir Square. Photo by Amir Makar</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I found myself reminiscing to my high school days of protesting the invasion of Iraq. It is curious what societal traits transcend geographical and cultural borders and become universal; I guess fighting for justice looks about the same everywhere. Signs with witty and powerful slogans and photos were all around us, and students scrambled onto each others’ shoulders to lead the crowd in chants, handing the megaphone to a peer when they lost their voice. “<i>Wahed, itnain, tasleem a-sulta fain</i>?” (One, two, where is the handover of power?). I heard the echo of “One, two, three, four, let’s end this stupid war” when I used to protest the Bush administration’s invasion. In front of and behind me, all I could see was Egyptians, their numbers as thick as the Cairo pollution, and I was reminded of looking on crowds of my fellow American protesters twisting around New York City’s blocks. At one point, people all around me raised their hands in the peace sign and observed a moment’s silence for the martyrs. The energy was electric, rippling around the neighborhood stores, reaching up into apartment buildings where onlookers waved at us with tears in their eyes, and weaving its way amongst these young revolutionaries.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSy-G4uv4UCEKW3Di_DvSWOhPF_yAYzkZpxJ9fOhCVs9GOjtpvpPnHechhrJXWO7L95sl4rJjmGpn04aBGSf9MgaoME2gsuLZn2HYL8eWOYOe7UTzuR0QrHyzgcE_nW6KCdcuO9gJOLR9b/s1600/331769_10150563775293679_1169776413_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSy-G4uv4UCEKW3Di_DvSWOhPF_yAYzkZpxJ9fOhCVs9GOjtpvpPnHechhrJXWO7L95sl4rJjmGpn04aBGSf9MgaoME2gsuLZn2HYL8eWOYOe7UTzuR0QrHyzgcE_nW6KCdcuO9gJOLR9b/s320/331769_10150563775293679_1169776413_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Amir Makar</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I was baffled that Tahrir Square could hold us all: it was to the point of bursting, with marches from all over Cairo gushing in to occupy Tahrir once again. The square’s mood seemed to contrast somewhat with the tenacity of the march. That is not to say that there was not an aura of enthusiasm and protest in the famous throne of the revolution, but there was more of a sense of celebration and happy nostalgia than anything else. As dusk descended on the square, so did disappointment on the faces of my Egyptian friends. They expressed frustration that the Muslim Brotherhood had control over the most visible and audible stage, belching out lies about having been present in the square at the onset of the uprising. Although individuals from the Brotherhood stood by their fellow revolutionaries a year ago, the organization discouraged its supporters from taking to the streets at the beginning of the revolution, and those who did broke were younger members who broke with the older cadre of leaders. It seemed a usurpation of a revolution that belonged to young people, liberals, and your everyday disgruntled people with no political claim. Nonetheless, the day’s turnout was extraordinary, a true testament to the force that is the Egyptian people.<o:p></o:p></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycg2UnmQf-Xo3t2Wh6VCYVwiX7zqPSIVMnMZkMsPWi3Nt6bux8fMHdETxkaYrT5VGm3AEyj7LMMj_gQpXFFcOnf3cQCVxk3oGNqAvyMnUR2hhrUelzCtCEL_kjlZMzlTje_F-7S4__Fii/s1600/338119_10150563441273679_515513678_8929987_1615754959_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycg2UnmQf-Xo3t2Wh6VCYVwiX7zqPSIVMnMZkMsPWi3Nt6bux8fMHdETxkaYrT5VGm3AEyj7LMMj_gQpXFFcOnf3cQCVxk3oGNqAvyMnUR2hhrUelzCtCEL_kjlZMzlTje_F-7S4__Fii/s400/338119_10150563441273679_515513678_8929987_1615754959_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tahrir from above<br />
Photo by Amir Makar</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">By the late night and early morning, only those dedicating themselves to a sit-in remained. Perhaps Egypt’s squares will once again fill on Friday to ensure that both the SCAF and the new Parliament know they are under watch. That is where I feel street pressure must now be focused. The SCAF has promised to step down and hold presidential elections in June. If they do not meet these promises, Egyptians must save their strength to rise up again. I do hope pressure is also maintained on the SCAF so that they are held accountable for their wrongdoings, including military trials for civilians, torture, and the massacres committed at Maspero, Mohammad Mahmoud St., and the Interior Ministry.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A common refrain during marches and protests is “<i>a-soura mustamerra</i>”, the revolution goes on, and that it does. Of course, it is debated that what took place a year ago in Egypt was not a full-scale revolution, in that only the head of the system was overthrown, as opposed to the entire political order. But a revolution also signifies a dramatic change in the way people think about how their country works, and that is indeed underway in Egypt. Never before would millions have descended into the streets in opposition to the status quo. Never before would so many have voted in relatively clean elections. So although many of yesterday’s protesters felt that the revolution’s goals have yet to be realized, there is certainly a dramatic transformation that deserves celebration as well as fighting for. <o:p></o:p></div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-47348303099607268852011-11-21T16:12:00.000-08:002011-11-21T16:18:18.663-08:00Shehab's Revolution<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Blood streams from my arm like the River Nile, and saline tears roll down my cheeks like Alexandrian winter rain. No, I have not been shot with a rubber bullet by the Egyptian Central Security Forces and their military cronies. No, I have not been inhaling tear gas made in the USA and exported to Egypt. That’s a few kilometers up the road, in the beating heart of the revived Egyptian Revolution, Midan Tahrir. There, young revolutionaries are losing their eyes, or worse, their lives. There, volunteer doctors are treating cases of asphyxiation in a makeshift field hospital in the square’s mosque. There, Egyptians are pouring in by the second, the mood one of both hope and foreboding, dedication and exhaustion.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">No, I am not there, although my heart and spirit no doubt are. I am lying in a hospital bed, the tube linked to my arm’s vein slurping up my donated blood, doing the least I can for these brave Egyptians. I am not crying because it hurts. My tears are for Shehab. Shehab and I met earlier in the safety of the Midan’s rebellious spirit on one Friday afternoon earlier this fall, thousands of protesters surrounding us with chants and demands. Later that evening, chaos would again descend as protesters furiously attacked the Israeli Embassy. Naturally, we talked politics. Palestine, Egypt’s Supreme Military Council, America’s nuclear weapons, you name it. It was one of those tireless exchanges where energy incessantly flows back and forth between two people. I was so struck by his cleverness, his passion, his commitment to Egypt - <i>he </i><span style="font-style: normal;">is the Egyptian youth that rose up in January, and </span><i>he </i><span style="font-style: normal;">is the youth who will rebuild it. Or he was. Now Shehab’s vivacious spirit will have to guide his comrades. Shehab was killed yesterday in his beloved Midan Tahrir, at the hands of Egyptian security forces. A photo and video circulating the web shows military police dragging bodies over to a pile of trash: I recognized the shirt he wore the day we met.</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPimO-e8sYCEkeK0ASZ1b3Bd9UVVS0SJvzV_2wku-t8y-pBREXrJw_OTaC75VLvKksg4Ma5vGmNCeZeQg27dxQIZpfmmyudXL3dRBY_z1bHAHBLXynBsMbGN8DUUWviAx16B6zCiudT8m6/s1600/%25D8%25B4%25D8%25AD%25D8%25A7%25D8%25A8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPimO-e8sYCEkeK0ASZ1b3Bd9UVVS0SJvzV_2wku-t8y-pBREXrJw_OTaC75VLvKksg4Ma5vGmNCeZeQg27dxQIZpfmmyudXL3dRBY_z1bHAHBLXynBsMbGN8DUUWviAx16B6zCiudT8m6/s400/%25D8%25B4%25D8%25AD%25D8%25A7%25D8%25A8.jpg" width="366" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Shehab (left) in Midan Tahrir</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When my friend Mohamad told me the news this evening amidst sobs, I clumsily told him in emotionally faltering Arabic that this is how Shehab would have wanted to go. “But why? Why are they killing us?” He asked me, pained. I responded that I didn’t understand, I didn’t know. But what I do know is that <i>al-soura mustamerra</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, the revolution goes on. There is a type of energy at the moment that my friends tell me is reminiscent of the uprising earlier this year. The urgency is certainly there, as the list of crimes of the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) only grows. Military trials for civilians have continued to the tune of 12,000 since the fall of Hosni Mubarak. Investigations into egregious massacres like the bombing of an Alexandrian church or the recent murder of 24 mostly Copts are not taken seriously, most likely because they have state fingerprints all over them. A timetable for the transition to civilian rule has not been firmly set and any promises have been dishonored. The parliamentary elections (scheduled to start this Monday) have been despicably organized and there is fear of military deals with the Muslim Brotherhood. The military is trying to impose constitutional amendments that would guarantee their economic foothold and protection from the law. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If there is a time to stand up again and fight, it is now. I cannot say whether or not this will transform into the wave of might and power that rippled across Egypt this past January, nor whether the SCAF will make the concessions demanded of it. As I speak, the civilian cabinet is trying to hand in its resignation to SCAF, but is so far being refused. Clashes continue unabated into their fourth day in not only Tahrir, but also Alexandria, Qena, Aswan, Suez, and other cities. Calls for a million-man march tomorrow afternoon are spreading around the country. People are organizing on a massive scale, planning police resistance tactics, march and escape routes, drop-off points for medical and sit-in supplies. It is extraordinary to see, and while I want no more young martyrs to suffer Shehab’s fate, I want more than anything for Egypt to achieve her revolutionary dreams.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">One of the blood drive doctors stopped at the foot of my hospital bed. “<i>Leih keda</i>?” He whispered softly, tilting his head in concern at my glistening cheeks. Why the tears? I told him of Shehab. “Rabena Yastur,” he muttered, head bowed. May God protect us.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">----</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">On a personal note, my classes have been moved to a different location, since the most intense clashes are literally taking place outside my campus. Life in the rest of Cairo goes on relatively normally, although people are always tuned into the square and the politics. My program and the American University in Cairo are taking the right precautions, as are my friends and I. Here is a list of links to articles, news sources, and photos with more details on what is currently taking place in Egypt.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.arabist.net/blog/2011/11/22/notes-from-tahrir-2011-11-22.html">Arabist's Notes from Tahrir</a>, great blogger</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/22/world/middleeast/facing-calls-to-give-up-power-egypts-military-battles-crowds.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&hp">Egypt's Civilian Government Submits Offer to Resign</a>, NYT</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://lynch.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2011/11/21/cairo_jumps_the_rails#.TspBFwfy2Ul.facebook">Cairo Jumps the Rails</a>, Marc Lynch</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://blogs.aljazeera.net/liveblog/Egypt">Al Jazeera's Egypt Live Blog</a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2011/11/deadly-new-clashes-in-egypts-tahrir-square/100192/">Photos of the Clashes</a><br />
<a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2011/11/for-egyptians-a-new-foe-and-a-new-revolution/248781/">Description of the last few days</a>, the Atlantic</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://bikyamasr.com/49065/tear-gas-used-in-egypt-banned-causes-liver-heart-damage-miscarriages/">Tear Gas</a> (a particularly nasty, perhaps new brand is now being used)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://egyptianchronicles.blogspot.com/2011/11/tahrir-clashes-continue-and-we-do-not.html#.Tsjy33s8wTl.facebook">Egyptian Chronicles Blogger</a> (very detailed, somewhat graphic)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-303178616875144152011-10-25T16:27:00.000-07:002011-10-25T16:32:58.783-07:00Cairo Snippets<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I'm still out of sync with politics, so here's a portrait of the Egypt life I've been living for the last few months. Enjoy!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u><br />
</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u>8/25</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Ventured out briefly today to meet Cairo. She returned my call by dumping sweat down my back, although she wasn’t as noisy and crowded as usual. There was no running commentary, no hisses or honking or stares. Ramadan gives me a special moral shield to walk around with. With it, I fend off shameful stares and comments, forcing them back into their owners’ minds. It’s not <i>my </i><span style="font-style: normal;">shield, in actuality, it belongs to their Allah and the holy month of fasting and refraining. Either way, I feel a little more comfortable in Cairo’s streets. She is often daunting and sometimes cruel, so her subdued demeanor is much appreciated.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u>9/16</u></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOEvzBargWN9kAU7ieLnEBOVaTTFk4rNVFlSrLpRJ2R2t2uroPK0UdnTwiVlSzVcn01UsgLnK57RLUw-Agwg-ymaSa0iFIWXSLJP8vsZd5vAZsC1BZdnEPRNBYbMBaQ1gs-jFmOUNhDvZ/s1600/100_2793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOEvzBargWN9kAU7ieLnEBOVaTTFk4rNVFlSrLpRJ2R2t2uroPK0UdnTwiVlSzVcn01UsgLnK57RLUw-Agwg-ymaSa0iFIWXSLJP8vsZd5vAZsC1BZdnEPRNBYbMBaQ1gs-jFmOUNhDvZ/s200/100_2793.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juice!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It’s sometimes hard to muster the courage to descend from my 10<sup>th</sup> floor haven, but it is always rewarding when I do, tonight being a smashing example. The festival we discovered is exactly what Egypt needs more of. Young people in colorful clothes meandered stalls of books and grassroots organizations. Children and adults alike painted a mural with bright paint while various musical acts performed for an enthusiastic crowd. It was a place and atmosphere promoting creativity and acceptance, both of which this society could use more of. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My friends and I then made our way to the <i>shaby </i><span style="font-style: normal;">(folky, local, popular)</span><i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">hood of Imbaba, where we sat down for liver - the camel’s was chewy - and rice pudding! Despite the undying noise and trash littering the air and roads, the place had character. A multitude of weddings passed by our meal, and men crowded ‘</span><i>ahwas</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> (cafes) for the Egypt-Tunis match. On our way back home, we stopped for mugs of freshly squeezed juice and sweet milkshakes, which has become a mainstay of my friends’ and my Egypt experience.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m glad I went out into the Cairene night.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u>9/17</u><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">These Cairo days accumulate a pattern, or I have inclined them to do so at least. My sleep is always late, nowhere before 2am, and sometimes with the sun’s greeting. I sit on the balcony after the sun has set, looking south and west at the concrete slabs encircling for miles, peaking into neighbor’s florescent-lit windows, pondering things, absentmindedly patting away Cairo dust. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64TD2EkvGLvw6Zv3yMmq6kth32oWd06tOLK3bhSiu4k6dLX-5M-19qfbp2SNDC4b30mJWT6HSQSgXftoe7rfejZ1O9pJXkOV7NnIxKq4fQgGMZojukxSG1eI2U_lc6JHNKrLaoNwaSq_q/s1600/100_4082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64TD2EkvGLvw6Zv3yMmq6kth32oWd06tOLK3bhSiu4k6dLX-5M-19qfbp2SNDC4b30mJWT6HSQSgXftoe7rfejZ1O9pJXkOV7NnIxKq4fQgGMZojukxSG1eI2U_lc6JHNKrLaoNwaSq_q/s400/100_4082.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset from my balcony</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">During the week, I have succumbed to the Arabic workload, evening managing to enjoy myself. I do more interesting things on the weekend, plus some vegging out, and I’ve begun to insert exercise into my schedule. The adjustment since Turkey has certainly been more challenging than I expected it to be, and I feel somewhat as though my initial infatuation with Egypt has worn off. I have a much shorter fuse when it comes to stares and comments in the streets; in fact, I fight back a slew of stereotypes in my mind each time I face that. I imagine it will be more difficult to maintain the giddy enthusiasm that has often reigned over my Egypt life, but I’m up for the challenge.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u>9/20</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My apartment has secured a special place in my heart, as many of my settling places tend to do. I am unequivocally drawn to the spaces I inhabit, and I have a natural instinct to care for them, clean them, and make them welcoming. I enjoy taking the creaky elevator up to my flat, closing the humidity-lain door with a bang on the trash-ridden hallway and entering the royal air-conditioned living room. I don’t even mind the discomfort of my armchair, or my bed, although the cold showers will get old now that summer’s heat has burned off. I adore our miniature stove and our gargantuan refrigerator, and our balcony has quickly become to me what my Alexandrian dorms’ rooftop once was, though the view is not quite as extraordinary here. Of course, Nour the kitten makes it all the more my home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yG4jLLPyv-2pxEW7EhQH_N_dIUsuCnsjHBMRpOA7UbSNtP-f3z2lRMjYCJ_Lx0MLXICvIrNWMongt2l16wprM1VvX2Gh9j0Yz-FO4A1Acucx73q25-EFaGZDwVCVKTlkOVICBSB6KXPh/s1600/100_4091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yG4jLLPyv-2pxEW7EhQH_N_dIUsuCnsjHBMRpOA7UbSNtP-f3z2lRMjYCJ_Lx0MLXICvIrNWMongt2l16wprM1VvX2Gh9j0Yz-FO4A1Acucx73q25-EFaGZDwVCVKTlkOVICBSB6KXPh/s320/100_4091.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nour</i> (light) of my life</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u>9/23</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My dinner with Ahmed Tuesday night reminded me why Egyptians have made such an impression on me. We never run out of topics to talk about, because we are both so genuinely curious about each other’s culture. We discussed politics, pop culture, love, and all the while, I felt at ease. He feels like my Egyptian brother.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u>9/24, Alexandria</u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Cairo hasn’t won me over like Alex did. Alex forever has a piece of my heart, most notably for being the first city I lived in outside of the US. I feel acutely nostalgic when I roam her horizontal streets, remembering a time where everything was new and I was fueled by curiosity. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There are the blaring comparisons to Cairo, like how I can actually affirm that the sky is blue, and indeed not grey, here, or how I can breathe soundly without wanting to vomit my insides out. Tonight, as I walked back to my friend’s apartment, things were calm, not too much noise, few cars, but Alex still manages to retain an energy that makes her come abuzz. It’s the late-nighters, men preparing for the next day’s load, the young people going to and fro from ritzy cafes. It’s the Mediterranean, washing up years of history into Alex’s bosom and spraying her dwellers with refreshing mists. Then there’s the proximity to nature, despite being in a city. The ocean makes this place who she is, and every time I let my thoughts wander to sunsets on the Corniche, my chest fills up with a passionate sort of pain that makes me want nothing more than to return to Alex and never leave. Like I said to my friend Mahmoud today, when I see the sun set behind the Alexandrian harbor, I have no doubt that there is a God.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Of course, part of my love affair with Alexandria is that when I lived here, I was surrounded by a community of both Americans and Egyptians with whom I shared everything: evenings spent driving aimlessly listening to techno, food outings, hardships, trips around Egypt, discoveries. I sorely miss that, and would instantly trade the happening life in Cairo for it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u>10/1</u><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Rosh Hashana and birthday cakes in an open apartment hugged by the Cairene breeze. Party full of internationals in an unreal Garden City apartment and improv-ing on its royal balcony. Last night was a reel from a well-soundtracked film about living the exotic abroad life.<o:p></o:p></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiul00zTbcqYYyXRn7Y7UEre5t_qP89cjPUVPBYkf9jy-V14WEBYArXj4dWjaYbLNkg8hBq4dQ0nL4hD0UtYVyrpfvLGLGwXbQ-uMPuBMK995rZSKG33N_e-SQsGMn4HvcwF1OJYd6E_An-/s1600/100_2813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiul00zTbcqYYyXRn7Y7UEre5t_qP89cjPUVPBYkf9jy-V14WEBYArXj4dWjaYbLNkg8hBq4dQ0nL4hD0UtYVyrpfvLGLGwXbQ-uMPuBMK995rZSKG33N_e-SQsGMn4HvcwF1OJYd6E_An-/s400/100_2813.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wust al-Balad, Downtown Cairo</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u>10/23</u><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Got lost in a couple books today, one finely decorated with Arabic curls, the others mere distractions from my homework. I was relieved that our weekend novel was not dealing with the tired Egyptian themes of sexual tension and the clash between east and west. I felt oddly drawn to this novel, <u><a href="http://www.jadaliyya.com/pages/index/367/the-american-granddaughter-(a-review)">The American Granddaughter</a></u>, about an Iraqi girl turned American citizen who goes back to Iraq to do translating for the US military in 2003; themes of identity crisis and twists in relationships with the military - that’s my thing! It fell somewhat short, seeing as the main character didn’t really change the way I wanted her to, but it was an exhilarating read nonetheless (albeit at a turtle’s pace - imagine 200 pages of Arabic in 3 days!) I love the way I can read through a full page and create a picture with time and place, even I if there are certain words whose meaning I don’t fully grasp. It is incredibly rewarding, for all the daily frustrations this language presents me with.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><u>10/26</u><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I slipped on my flip-flops, asking my roommates if they needed anything from the pharmacy or corner store, yelling that I’d be back in 5 minutes. Little did I know that an attempt to buy toothpaste would turn into an hour-long conversation with the Coptic pharmacist about the proclaimed impossibility of love before marriage, the Bible, the 5-10% of Muslims he claimed were good people, and the events of <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1973611560">October 9</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1973611560">th</a></span></span><a href="http://www.merip.org/mero/mero101311">, Bloody Sunday</a>, where the Egyptian army ran over Coptic protesters with tanks. I returned to my apartment beaming at my new friendship and the new opportunity to practice my colloquial. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Last night, I went down to pick up some medicine for the kitty, this time prepared for a marathon talk session. Nabil was thrilled to see me, and I didn’t refuse his offer of tea. We passed the time discussing parliamentary elections in Tunis and Egypt, Qaddhafi’s death, and the history of Puerto Rico. A stream of different neighborhood characters popped through for various reasons, introducing themselves to me, marveling at the fact that I spoke Arabic (and laughing raucously when I proved I could even write it), and teaching me nonsensical Egyptian proverbs. I feel remarkably at ease in my corner pharmacy, a safe nook where I can inquire and explore. This weekend, I will go to church with Nabil, his wife, and their four children. It promises to be quite the occasion.<o:p></o:p></div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-16687279721487955192011-10-10T18:09:00.000-07:002011-10-10T18:16:08.041-07:00Where is Egypt Going?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi05PEGO3TpcoV-wJElr4_c2gMTosMJ5F-tBcrBn-HqUQOtTRgY5AxlXyN9qOJbWne24hdhLwpYzdiEa2RAXrG5oFaNBcO3hMpuAN8hu8fw30WxHESn4eDUI0fxUG45YCAFEHlKPguHkNc7/s1600/Carlos+Latuff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi05PEGO3TpcoV-wJElr4_c2gMTosMJ5F-tBcrBn-HqUQOtTRgY5AxlXyN9qOJbWne24hdhLwpYzdiEa2RAXrG5oFaNBcO3hMpuAN8hu8fw30WxHESn4eDUI0fxUG45YCAFEHlKPguHkNc7/s400/Carlos+Latuff.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">by Carlos Latuff</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">On the evening of October 9th, the Egyptian people tried to tear themselves out of the army’s iron grip. The facts will assuredly be debated in newspaper columns and cafes for weeks to come, but as of now, 25 Egyptians, mostly Copts, were brutally killed, and around 300 were injured. Coptic Christians, 10% of Egypt’s 85 million, have faced state-sponsored persecution throughout Egypt’s ancient and modern history. Although they stood by their Muslim brothers in the height of the revolutionary days, they have since feared a possible Islamic government. Old sectarian grievances have been stirred, recently in the form of a burned church in the south, where much of these tensions are sown. Local Muslims purportedly prevented it from being rebuilt, a common episode over the years. Copts in the Cairo neighborhood of Shubra started a protest toward downtown in the afternoon, only to be heaved into a one-sided battle versus the army’s live ammunition and rampaging tanks. There is <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ps0cZESV-ec&feature=share">disturbing footage</a> all over the web. This took place upon reaching the abhorred state television building, Maspero, which spent the evening spouting more lies. Muslims, too, came out, some in response to state TV telling them to defend their army, others to stand by their Coptic compatriots. Thugs in plainclothes were rumored to be inciting clashes. Soon enough, downtown Cairo was aflame with burning cars and tear gas, and the Coptic hospital was flooded with the blood of its children. Accounts of the nightmare still feel muddled, and I am no journalist, so I leave you with a number of eyewitness accounts and commentaries:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2011/10/10/egypt-erupts-in-violence-as-army-kills-copts-in-muslim-christian-clashes.html">Ursula Lindsey in the Daily Beast</a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.almasryalyoum.com/en/node/503496">Sarah Carr in al-Masry al-Youm</a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/oct/10/cairo-violence-military-rulers?intcmp=239">Jack Shenker in the Guardian</a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Although the facts are important in that they must lead to justice served (and <a href="http://www.arabist.net/blog/2011/10/10/something-was-broken-yesterday.html">many are calling for a non-military investigation</a>), the “facts” of this tragic incident are being abused as a tool of distraction from the real issues at hand. Furthermore, few disagree that the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), which now runs Egypt, fomented this incident in order to justify their continued implementation of the emergency law. The <a href="http://www.amnesty.org/en/news-and-updates/egypt-emergency-law-biggest-threat-rights-%E2%80%9825-january-revolution%E2%80%99-2011-09-15">emergency law</a> was the centerpiece of Hosni Mubarak’s dictatorship, and he wielded it to forbid other political parties, stifle freedom of speech, and arrest and torture any dissenters. SCAF has since beefed up this scandalous law, which is nothing short of an insult to the Egyptian people and a nod to Mubarak in his cushioned jail cell. And the SCAF is indeed using this law to shut down media outlets airing footage of its tanks running over protesters on the night of the Maspero protests, try civilians in military trials, and stay in power.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Why? As I cry for Egypt and her stolen children and revolution, I ask myself why the SCAF is doing what it is doing. I wonder what they want. I see only greed. The military controls anywhere from 30 to 40% of Egypt’s economy (official statistics are rarely available for anything in Egypt), in the form of factories that manufacture weapons, toy, and even food products. Safe from investigation, it is hard to fathom how its generals must lavishly live. The Egyptian military also enjoys top of the line war toys, as it receives 20% of its military budget from the United States. Coupled with the military’s greed is total political ignorance, in that these generals have never had to answer to the people and release political decisions. In that vein, I wonder why they want to say in power, when their mandate to do so (granted by the post-revolution March referendum) has run out. People are ready for a civilian government, and they want a timetable as to when that will happen. Instead, SCAF is stating that presidential elections may not happen until the end of 2012.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I recently saw a short video that is a brilliant allegory for the chaotic traffic jam that is Egyptian politics today. It tells the story of a group of Egyptians who get on a bus, all heading to the neighborhood of Imbaba. When the bus driver, who is just trying to make a living, overcharges for the fare, one passenger refuses to pay, so the driver stops the bus in the middle of the street, and what ensues is a classically Egyptian argument, with everyone talking at once and trying to express their own needs and priorities. They all share the same goal - to get to Imbaba - but they cannot agree on a common path to get there. It is generally understood that most want Egypt’s uprising to blossom into a functioning democracy. They want the end result to be a civil state couched in Islamic values. They want jobs, security, and their human rights. But agreeing on <i>how </i><span style="font-style: normal;">to get there? Well, that’s another matter. The video</span> is in Egyptian colloquial, but I suggest you watch a bit - Egyptians convey so much, even if you don't understand the language.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/LteRWiBNH6A?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now, I fear that this bus carrying Egyptians toward Imbaba is being rammed on all sides by military tanks. Instead of continuing their quest, the bus has been stopped in its tracks by violence and hatred. Even if it takes them years to get started again, the yelling match amongst the bus’s passengers must go on. There are so many issues to discuss in order to ensure they make it safely to their destination. Now is not the time to let the military dictate traffic. I pray that Egyptians will unite, not in their demands for how they want Egypt to look, but in their opposition to a military that is not “one hand” with its people, as the refrain commonly says. They must oppose the dangerous distractions the military is trying to divide them with, and they must move forward with discussions about the electoral law, the new constitution, the inclusion of minorities in civil society, workers’ rights, and so much more.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I leave you with two requests. I ask that you keep Egypt in your thoughts - her murdered children, but more importantly, her way forward. I also ask that you think about a question my Egyptian friend asked me the other day: what about the Americans’ bus? Where does it want to go, and what’s the best way, Wall Street, or what? <o:p></o:p></div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-43682841920879364792011-09-11T13:08:00.000-07:002011-09-11T13:35:12.014-07:00The Key to 9/11<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">One of the most vivid images I have of September 11<sup>th</sup>, 2001, is a TV screenshot of people in the Middle East celebrating the successful terrorist attacks on American soil. I was too young at the time to comprehend the intricacies of bin Laden’s network, the crimes America had committed to warrant this attack, or the way international relations had just shifted forever. But with the clarity that only a pure young heart can possess, I was dumbfounded by the hatred fuming through America that day.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When I tell people I study Arabic, they always ask me why, or what I hope to do with the language, expecting to hear a well thought-out answer about the CIA or something. I shrug my shoulders, and all I can muster is that, for me, language is the key to culture, <i>muftaah a-saqafa.</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> How else can I sit with Ahmed, a traditional Egyptian man, discussing love and politics, only to have him tell me that he never thought he would be capable of liking an American? How else could I have lived for months with Muslim girls whose conceptions of America once revolved around only Twilight and fashion? How else could I have animatedly discussed Israel & Palestine with my revolutionary friend in Tahrir Square the other night, only to walk away still friends afterward? My ability to show these Egyptians America’s </span><i>true</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> values of diversity, family, service, and compassion - and not just plundering capitalism and tyrannical foreign policy - is derived from my capacity to communicate with them. Each word we share in the course of our exchange vanquishes ignorance and wariness, both of which lead to hate. If I never again use Arabic in my professional or personal life, I will be satisfied knowing I used this treasured key, language, to unlock our commonalities.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">This is what we, as Americans and global citizens, must strive to do in order to prevent another act of hatred like 9/11. We can no longer afford to see only the other, and I mean that in terms of both our wallets and our souls. Whether it’s through language, traveling, teaching, eating, praying, laughing, or writing, I ask that you dedicate yourself to overcoming the boundaries between America and other cultures. I know many of you already do this in your daily work, and I am in constant admiration of you.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I was planning to write on my proximity to the protests at the Israeli Embassy the other night, but I refuse to have my spirit trodden upon by that sad event today. Today, I want to hold my head high, as an American and as one of the world’s children. I want to reflect on the sorrow, yes, but also on the gratitude I carry for what I have been given: I have so many people to love, and I have the ability, the key, to make this world a better place.<o:p></o:p></div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-33859730226952870762011-08-30T18:12:00.000-07:002011-08-30T18:12:11.731-07:00So many questions, so little Turkish!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Turkey has got it down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tilled farms or undiscovered hills and fields juxtapose clean cities with lively central squares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wind farms dot the horizon, and I hear of plans for hydro energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The men don’t stare, nor do the women for that matter, and they are eager to welcome me with an extra piece of gratuitous fruit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God mostly stays in the mosque, the home, or the heart, and it seems that your faith is not decided so much by what you wear or how you love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The government carries flaws, particularly in regards to censorship and <a href="http://www.kurdishaspect.com/doc082911RH.html">human rights issues</a>, but clean elections seem like a good place to start.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgkhb2vpPA9PXfqLGoxh4vTufqNIsahmpcNfW5DvyxRnyWEoYehpM8gm5ThijYwHF7t_ZPlctIoFy_S2NXKknAS7LtWI3wAxOZ9WYIfAFjmFe1TmZK05YR7-aVbxbaQgjZJCLpqkbmOMg/s1600/100_3474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIgkhb2vpPA9PXfqLGoxh4vTufqNIsahmpcNfW5DvyxRnyWEoYehpM8gm5ThijYwHF7t_ZPlctIoFy_S2NXKknAS7LtWI3wAxOZ9WYIfAFjmFe1TmZK05YR7-aVbxbaQgjZJCLpqkbmOMg/s200/100_3474.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Travertines at Pammukale</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Our journey led us in a crazy eight around Turkey’s landscape for almost the whole month of Ramazan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hopped from seaside village to city on the west coast, swimming in the Aegean’s tides and soaking up her salt while gazing upon Greek islands in the horizon's hot haze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We visited sites brimming with history, including the Gallipoli Peninsula, where Ottoman forces bloodily fought back Allied forces in brutal trench warfare that eventually cost both sides 340,000 casualties in WWI, and Ephesus, where the legendary ruins truly allow one to visualize the ancient Greek/Roman city’s grandeur as a pillar of trade and royalty in empires of old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We scrambled up limestone travertines shelved in the village of Pammukale, and climbed into rock chimneys converted into churches in Cappedocia, both in central Turkey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We then headed east to Kurdish territory, where we paid a visit to the ruins at Ani, once the ancient Armenian capital, now on the modern nation’s border, as well as a volcano’s caldera on Lake Van’s shores in the southeast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From Diyarbakır, capital of the Kurdish world, we flew to Ankara, where Atatürk, father of the Turks, established his state’s capital and an ostentatious mausoleum to himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We bid farewell to Turkey after 4 days in Istanbul, a magical world sitting on the most coveted waterway in history, gracefully spanning both Europe and Asia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The city is a tantalizing mix of antiquity crossed with cosmopolitan sass, with aging Ottoman minarets cropping up from her cobblestone streets while the trendy meander her rich cultural life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I irrevocably fell in love with another city.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSfdFUbpQPgtfuuUl4rtr2up9DAO8JGSPiu1Hnhx__xXvztTB18THHz4yMcSzblw5qHnYjcLbprqJ8LXBCdmXUui0aP8B58m_vD7dnvttoo1wPc32G1v-mrWwX6MDKcsFbhCIUIsy6P7w/s1600/100_3905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSfdFUbpQPgtfuuUl4rtr2up9DAO8JGSPiu1Hnhx__xXvztTB18THHz4yMcSzblw5qHnYjcLbprqJ8LXBCdmXUui0aP8B58m_vD7dnvttoo1wPc32G1v-mrWwX6MDKcsFbhCIUIsy6P7w/s320/100_3905.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Istanbul</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzEo0YTJUyRZvsUWHJMtfq9oaXVp1R3-Id2EgyMj69aFLORw7AnbfQb6RWPXxkW9g94DtMnIs2oFZKzy_XjrEBr5lBgENMaI7w90m4wS-hgKApTBvLoFGJ3m-s0UnRiNZrJUaYeImIN44i/s1600/img_8918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzEo0YTJUyRZvsUWHJMtfq9oaXVp1R3-Id2EgyMj69aFLORw7AnbfQb6RWPXxkW9g94DtMnIs2oFZKzy_XjrEBr5lBgENMaI7w90m4wS-hgKApTBvLoFGJ3m-s0UnRiNZrJUaYeImIN44i/s200/img_8918.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cappedocia, by friend Chris Opila<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Turkey had so much to offer that Egypt cannot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gastronomical odyssey we took was much too flavorful and lacked far too much oil for Egypt’s street food; we ate clay kabaps, herb cheese, clotted cream, <a href="http://www.turkishcookbook.com/2005/10/iskender-kebab.php">Iskander</a>, Turkish delight, and <a href="http://www.turkishcookbook.com/2008/04/kumpir.php">kumpir</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My roommate and I wore sleeveless and short things no sane woman would wear in Egypt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Buses left on time and cars stayed in the lanes, both impossibilities in Egypt’s chaos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On vacation from Cairo’s noise and pollution and traffic, my friends and I kept a never-ending list of things that were better in Turkey, and when we guiltily tried to make a list of the reverse… well, let’s just say we didn’t need more than one hand to count the few things we liked better in Egypt.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The most significant thing Egypt gives me that Turkey cannot is access to its people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This trip reaffirmed for me how key language is to even scratching the surface of a society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without Turkish, there was only so much I was able to comprehend about Turkish culture, a fact exacerbated by my blinders as a tourist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Egypt, I have been painstakingly working at just this - accessing Egyptian culture - for years, and I am just now realizing how rewarding it is, aided in no small part by my ability to speak Arabic.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If I had spoken Turkish, I would have asked more Turks about Atatürk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do all see him as their savior and the guider of modern Turkey, as the mainstream national narrative puts forth, or are there those disillusioned by the government propaganda (such as Kurds and the array of other ethnicities in the east and south)?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One man in the small town of Göreme in central Turkey described to me feeling as though Atatürk was his father, even though the leader died over 70 years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The notion of a nation and its founder feeling like parents is fascinating to me, and I hope to explore this national obsession with Atatürk more in an upcoming blog post, perhaps by comparing him to other revolutionary leaders such as Gamal Abdul Nasser in Egypt or Fidel Castro in Cuba.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you care to know more about the man whose knickerbockers and fountain pens are on display in national Turkish museums, read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ataturk-Intellectual-Biography-Sukru-Hanioglu/dp/0691151091">M. Şükrü Hanioğlu’s intellectual biography of Atatürk</a>, which I am currently in the process of devouring.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If I had spoken Turkish, I would have asked Turks what they most feared for their country’s future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I arrived in Turkey, a <a href="http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2011/08/02/tarnished_brass">handful of top military brass stepped down</a> in protest of the civilian government’s witch-hunt of military personnel accused of attempting to orchestrate a coup against them in the early 2000s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems as if Prime Minister Erdoğan and his Justice & Development party, which recently won by a landslide in elections, have finally sidelined the Turkish military, long an overseer of the country’s politics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would have loved to find out Turks’ reactions to the news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or perhaps they are frightened by recent Kurdish rebel activity in the southeast, which resulted in 9 Turkish soldiers killed and a <a href="http://www.rttnews.com/Content/MarketSensitiveNews.aspx?Id=1702212&SM=1">subsequent and ongoing Turkish incursion</a> into northern Iraq to seek retribution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friend living in Istanbul recounted on her blog a protest she saw today downtown, in which Arabs and Turks protested the Assad regime in Syria - perhaps spillover from the Arab Spring is what Turks fear the most, in the form of both refugees and sentiment.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If I spoke Kurdish, I would have asked Kurdish Turks in the southeast how they felt toward the Turkish government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do they feel like equal citizens, are they now allowed to listen to radio in their own language?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do they feel close to their brethren over the arbitrary border in northern Iraq?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are they as <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ruwayda-mustafah/turkish-military-assault-_b_939800.html">outraged as the rest of the world</a> seems at the Turkish military’s recent use of force? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do they want a Kurdish state to look like, or has their allegiance to Turkey indeed grown?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if to evidence my point about language, my travel buddy Mike had an interesting encounter with an imam in Diyarbakır - <a href="http://mkarabic.blogspot.com/2011/08/darwin-and-religion-in-great-mosque.html">check out his tale here</a>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If I spoke Turkish I would have asked one of the women in the northeastern mountain village of Yusufeli what her dreams were, that farmer in the undulating eastern steppe about his daily tasks, and my waiter in Van when mutton’s head was traditionally eaten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many questions, so little Turkish!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Cairo is doing her best to remind me why I chose to study Arabic and not Turkish. In all honesty, this city is challenging to readjust to, what with the sensory intensity (smog, heat, car horns) and the constant commentary from the male peanut gallery whenever I decide to step foot outside. Egyptians are now celebrating Eid al-Fitr, the end of Ramadan, so the streets are relatively calm, as is the political scene. I am looking forward to the fall's renewed political drama - protests have already been called for 9/9, and parliamentary elections will be in November. I will also start intensive Arabic classes again this Sunday (a novel a weekend, yes, in Arabic, eep!) The routine will be comforting, and I'll soon be reanamored with Egypt. My new role as a Mami will also be fun - I am adopting 2 kittens tomorrow! And thoughts of visiting home for the holidays keep me afloat, too - I can't wait to see you all!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Check here for more <a href="http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2082461741328.2111222.1238610154&l=cb2a6191e1&type=1">photos from Turkey</a>!</div><!--EndFragment--> </div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-87360062014825013082011-07-26T17:26:00.001-07:002011-07-26T18:27:15.781-07:00This doesn't feel like January 25th...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: normal;"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Egypt is panting, furrowing her brow, and throwing her hands up perplexedly.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMh9TFaKoMAfoCdOI2L4vcEc3OM-IQunYK2tksklQ2Aca9hPNbXBeJs7XzRR1SDVe-4fbd1XHE2dHew5WuDKlewVHLDGmwD7JF2Z6Yscpk6maD5gwEiw38wPyLpIVFb6uoi-a8mH3q0Jk5/s1600/waled-taher-906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMh9TFaKoMAfoCdOI2L4vcEc3OM-IQunYK2tksklQ2Aca9hPNbXBeJs7XzRR1SDVe-4fbd1XHE2dHew5WuDKlewVHLDGmwD7JF2Z6Yscpk6maD5gwEiw38wPyLpIVFb6uoi-a8mH3q0Jk5/s320/waled-taher-906.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Caricature by Waled Taher</span></span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since July 8th, when tens of thousands citizens poured into Egypt's squares to protect their revolution, there has been an acute political tension mingling with the polluted Cairene air. The performance that is Egyptian politics continues with thrill and bated breath. Front and center stage, you have the myriad of liberal groups staging sit-ins nationwide, regularly issuing demands, sometimes clashing with security forces. Itching to remain in the spotlight are the Muslim Brotherhood, flip-flopping daily on who they support, trying to appease the revolutionary masses but stay on the military's good side. Behind the curtains, you have the "transitional government", composed of the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), the Ministry of the Interior, the Cabinet, and Prime Minister Essam Sharif. Every day, one thespian performs a scene, another cuts in on his lines, and another pulls the curtain down on it all.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last weekend, it finally came to the crescendo the audience was waiting for. I can't be sure of the order of events, but it had something to do with SCAF accusing a popular movement, April 6th, of inflaming public feelings against SCAF, then the army forcibly dispersing protesters in Alexandria, then protesters in Tahrir reacting to that by </span></span><a href="http://www.arabawy.org/2011/07/23/tahrir-protesters-march-on-defense-ministry-stopped-by-the-army/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">starting a march</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> toward SCAF headquarters, which was stopped by an army cordon. In the late afternoon of Saturday, </span></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/50037840@N02/sets/72157627267941292/with/5969451835/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">July 23rd</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, a peaceful protest set out from Tahrir Square back to SCAF headquarters, chanting against the army's untrustworthy and underhanded rule: they met the same blockade of army tanks and guns. What unraveled in the following hours was a miniature war-zone: thugs attacking the protesters with swords (were they paid by SCAF to do so?), the hated police showing up to fire tear gas, and ultimately, around 250 injured protesters surrounded by enemies, the army mocking them from behind their barbed wire. </span></span><a href="http://psypherize.wordpress.com/2011/07/24/july23-what-happened-today/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Read one protester's account here</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/50037840@N02/5969997774/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="March to MOD"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="March to MOD by Gigi Ibrahim" height="300" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6139/5969997774_24a053b30a.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/50037840@N02/5969997774/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">March to MOD</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, a photo by </span></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/50037840@N02/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Gigi Ibrahim</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> on Flickr</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The bruised and battered returned to Tahrir, and the sit-in goes on, as does the political drama. The liberals seem exhausted, still disorganized politically, and maybe less unified after the latest April 6th scandals. The Muslim Brotherhood has called for a million-man protest this Friday, but that's liberal territory, right? The masses just need to get to work and feed their kids. Ramadan starts next week, and I wonder if this means the protests will abate some, or regain their vigor (in the evening, after breaking fast). </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Trials for Mubarak & Adly (the former Interior Minister) start August 3rd, and could be cause for aggravation, but Ramadan is also a time of reflection and forgiveness. Whatever the case, I sense very little is moving forward, and I think many in this political sphere agree.</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Of two things, I am sure. First, SCAF is criminal, and they will get away with it. Military trials for bloggers and activists number in the thousands since the revolution, more than in Mubarak's era. Trials for the real villains of the fallen regime are postponed without reason. </span></span><a href="http://www.almasryalyoum.com/en/node/371429"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Virginity tests</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> were conducted on women protesters. No, the army has not yet fired directly on protesters, but they do not stop the Central Security Forces (CSF) or hired thugs from doing so. It is clear they have an interest in maintaining the former system, as it guarantees their </span></span><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/18/world/middleeast/18military.html?pagewanted=all"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">significant economic</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> holdings and military toys from abroad (mainly the U.S.) SCAF is continuing Mubarak's nefarious legacy, but the Egyptian public adores the army for what they perceive as its excellence in previous wars (they think they won '73), as well as because it is a draft army made up of the people.</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuAJBcOsdfdPiwEcJMGx9fVKYNqO04O4tX4liXTMl5TzS6QQX78FqJjotalOAtWz5Z1mwajbOoDApMloJGWQkYWUYcn6Nz_tNkfhvFLXf4yyL8EMi6qgz8mAM2K3sD8MHvdxhxjHGEXKc/s1600/screenshot_440.thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuAJBcOsdfdPiwEcJMGx9fVKYNqO04O4tX4liXTMl5TzS6QQX78FqJjotalOAtWz5Z1mwajbOoDApMloJGWQkYWUYcn6Nz_tNkfhvFLXf4yyL8EMi6qgz8mAM2K3sD8MHvdxhxjHGEXKc/s1600/screenshot_440.thumbnail.jpg" /></span></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On a more optimistic note, the second thing I am sure of is that this is only the beginning. Political parties do not spring from the ashes, rather, they need tending that was forbidden in Egypt's previous system. The masses do not jump up from their couches, rather, they need to first be given some bread, then coaxed into civic society. As a friend recently reminded me, the path to democracy is full of blunders, and for all we know, Egyptians and Arabs may be on the verge of creating a form of governance we've never seen before. Yes, patience is a virtue, so I will walk as the Egyptians do, or do their notorious hand motion for, "wait a minute". </span></span></span><br />
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</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm off to Turkey tomorrow, to explore for almost a month a country that has reached a fascinating blend of Islam, military, and democracy. Many praise it as a </span></span><a href="http://mideast.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2011/02/08/whose_model_which_turkey"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">model for the Arab world</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. I will be curious to see what Turks think of the recent uprising in their neighborhood, and I am salivating to travel a new land with some friends, an empty stomach, and an open mind. It will be hard to be away from the Egyptian revolution, which has become dear to my heart. Part of me hopes they can save the juicy stuff for when I return, so that I can continue to be witness to the earthquake that is rocking the Middle East.</span></span></span></div></div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-20325690918614739132011-07-25T13:34:00.000-07:002011-07-25T13:34:41.782-07:00The Truth Is Out There<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Media is one of the thickest cogs in the wheel of democracy, a constant energy field disseminating the news to every axel and spoke so that communication between the masses and leaders rolls smoothly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a participatory system that by definition is supposed to be of the whole population, there must be an effective mode of accumulating and imparting information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This will subsequently serve to promote national unity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is particularly true in this age of digital wizardry, where an interconnected global citizenry is able to feel part of something continents away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Egypt’s case, we’re talking about a country of about 85 million, from the farmers sand dunes away from Cairo in Upper Egypt, to the Bedouins running the tourism a canal away in the Sinai peninsula.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is easy to think that Egypt is Cairo, but a geography as vast as this antique land, traversed by the Nile and the Sahara, and a peoples as assorted as Egyptians, some still without access to modern technology, makes the task of sharing information within a nation that much more challenging.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Fathy Abou Hatab, the Managing Editor of <a href="http://www.almasryalyoum.com/en">Al-Masry Al-Youm</a>’s website, understands these tests to Egypt’s unity, and he is innovating to find solutions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Al-Masry Al-Youm is Egypt’s most widely read newspaper, an independent publication that defends liberal values, as opposed to state-run media outlets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My program’s journalism club, of which I am a member, had the privilege to meet with him a few weeks ago, during which he detailed the reforms that he feels need to take place in the Egyptian media in order for it to align with the values of the January 25th revolution.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTypM5A9vqu1HL0yWiajuUQfmgGjD1flWGC_n3PsSOoYRWn6JyGyyfoTPvGt8GPU0yEpNHzbEY9eswPrfiRhLwbS_clvVaX1xO0Np3tgK9vLZDtfnx9D8qq52dXgkqMSGfFvThr-bKla2F/s1600/281605_1556705237376_1227570294_31608026_6917805_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTypM5A9vqu1HL0yWiajuUQfmgGjD1flWGC_n3PsSOoYRWn6JyGyyfoTPvGt8GPU0yEpNHzbEY9eswPrfiRhLwbS_clvVaX1xO0Np3tgK9vLZDtfnx9D8qq52dXgkqMSGfFvThr-bKla2F/s320/281605_1556705237376_1227570294_31608026_6917805_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">One of the most formidable obstacles to an Egyptian free press is access to information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hatab told us that there have always been red lines between the truth and what the public can be privy to; for example, Mubarak’s health was always off limits, as were the army’s inner workings and business ventures (those still are).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This line of defense has been strengthened by <a href="http://www.icroc.com/cities/1/events/4704">MASPERO</a>, Egypt’s state television, whose “legacy has become one of distortion of the truth, spreading misinformation, and enforcing its regime-mandated ideals on a public with little or no access to alternative outlets”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By way of the Minister of the Media, a position reserved only for authoritarian societies, news has been stripped of meaning and stuffed into a jeweled box sealed with a kiss by Mubarak and his National Democratic Party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In revolutionary Egypt, the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) guards this giant box of state secrets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They decide whether or not to publicly air the trials of the criminals responsible for Egypt’s dire poverty and murdered protesters (link).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While those trials are inexplicably delayed, bloggers and journalists and activists are tried in military courts for exercising their right to free speech.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SCAF dictates the fate of media personalities brave enough to criticize them, as recently happened when <a href="http://www.almasryalyoum.com/en/node/480117">Dina Abdel Rahman</a> lost her job after reading on air a letter by an activist openly denouncing the military council.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A general had a word with her boss, and fear and censorship once again clapped its hand over information’s mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SCAF’s announcements are heard by most, so the way it decides to distort the picture is often taken at face value by much of the populace.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In addition to state controls, Hatab also detailed how the newspaper has, over decades of adapting to a corrupt system, created boundaries for itself in a variety of ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, each area of focus is assigned a particular person who alone is responsible for covering the people and events related to it; this seems to me to inhibit journalists from branching out and obtaining that much-needed general knowledge about their society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It also encourages cronyism and creates more corners for information-seekers to cut around. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Hatab was full of ideas for his country’s media that seemed aching to burst out the building’s walls: how could Al-Masry Al-Youm incorporate more of Egyptian society into the sphere of knowledge?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could they encourage readership?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could they bring more Egyptians into the conversation about the nation’s future?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lamented that there is only one edition of the newspaper for the entire country, as opposed to regionally focused editions as found in many US newspapers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This would encourage readership, although Egypt’s astonishing 40% illiteracy rate will complicate this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also spoke of integrating “<a href="http://www.almasryalyoum.com/en/ugc">citizen journalists</a>” into mainstream media, ie. making space for bloggers and users of new social media.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day we spoke to him, he was launching another imaginative idea called “Conversation with the Square”, an attempt to facilitate dialogue between those conducting a sit-in in Tahrir Square and those average citizens removed from the square.<span style="font-family: LucidaGrande;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Like many facets of Egyptian society in wake of the revolution, the flow of information now has an opportunity to move through society as it should, facilitating exchange of ideas for the new Egypt, promoting education, and championing a national dialogue. SCAF needs to get out of the way of the turning motion of this wheel.</div><!--EndFragment--> </div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-25300051774010030092011-07-18T17:01:00.000-07:002011-07-18T17:17:41.231-07:00The Egyptian Woodstock<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Do you want a tour around the square?” Mahmoud asks eagerly, draping an Egyptian flag around my shoulders. I enthusiastically agree, and off we go, rounding the square and its guests, buying a cactus fruit from one of the many vendors, politely refusing the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">shabab</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (young men) offering to paint an Egyptian flag on our sweaty arms, not knowing where to turn for the five stages spouting different political tunes from all angles. Mahmoud, doing duty on one of the popular committees securing the square, is our guide, allowing us to get away with fewer stares and more photographs. “</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Taalou</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, let’s go into the campsites,” he gestures toward the canvas teepees littering the square’s rotary, swathed with massive posters and banners stating demands and clever commentary. Before I know it, I am sitting on the doorstep of a few revolutionaries’ tent, being offered cigarettes, chitchatting about past and present, my heart pounding the whole time. I meet a doctor who has been here from the beginning, January 25th and who treated many of the wounded after the pigs’ crackdown, and even though Mahmoud is just meeting him, too, he assures me that they are brothers, everyone is family here in Tahrir. I am shown the square’s hospital, complete with a variety of drugs and emergency equipment. I spot a satellite that some agile Egyptian has managed to attach to a pole to ensure that the square has wireless. There is even a </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/50037840@N02/5945618545/in/set-72157627089479907"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Tahrir barber</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (check out all those photos to get a vibe for the square's life). “Like a 5-star hotel,” I comment. “Not quite,” laughs Mahmoud, but the spirit of the people is as happy as if they were bathing in luxury. No one can take Tahrir away from them.</span></span><br />
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</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Or can they? Reports are that the army has forcibly dispersed protesters sitting in in Luxor and </span><a href="http://www.almasryalyoum.com/en/node/477104"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Suez</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (where clashes have erupted amidst fierce protests at the release of a number of policemen accused of killing martyrs). Many are starting to wonder when the same will happen in Tahrir, when the pedestrian’s paradise blocked off to traffic will be broken up by the nefarious orders of the Ministry of Interior and its wicked police puppets. </span><a href="http://www.arabist.net/blog/2011/7/14/egypt-tahrir-protests-cheat-sheet.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Of late</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (summary of the latest political events), the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) and the Ministry of the Interior have appeared to make a number of concessions to the protesters, including </span><a href="http://www.theworld.org/2011/07/egypts-government-fires-top-police-officers/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">dismissing hundreds of police officers</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (who they are remains debated), delaying parliamentary elections until November, and reshuffling cabinet positions (with possibly just more of the same old). It remains to be seen whether these are merely empty promises, or if the military will actually follow through. In some ways, continuing the process of this revolution is the steepest hill in this battle, because the army, entrenched both economically and politically, will be hard-pressed to budge.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Some nights later, I find myself in Tahrir again, waiting for the voice of the revolution, Ramy Esseim, to come and regail the crowd with his music. </span><a href="http://www.npr.org/2011/03/15/134538629/ramy-esam-the-singer-of-the-egyptian-revolution"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Esseim became famous</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> at the peak of the revolution when he performed a song in the square; he was subsequently arrested and beaten brutishly when police broke up the protests. Before he performs, a plump woman takes the stage and vehemently begins denouncing the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">tazweer</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (rigging) of the bureaucratic system that is still imposing itself on the Egyptian people. Her fervor snakes through the crowd, eliciting whistles and cheers. Then Ramy Esseim… </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">kulana yeed wahda</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (all of us are one hand, united.)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz9EVO-C0a3C7XPIdb1YQNifMz6COeUinUlqkpCUWO_Z0mXMI2SGSXdbiajZY2nfvp3bfPEdGfvZDrP1wfRHw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This is the </span><a href="http://english.ahram.org.eg/NewsContent/1/64/16273/Egypt/Politics-/Egypts-second-revolution-welcomes-gains,-abhors-th.aspx"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Arab Woodstock</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, with a whole lot of politics thrown in. Making the rounds of the square, I hear average citizens reading delicate Arabic poetry on stage, pronouncing every letter and accent, so far from Egyptian Arabic. Activists from Twitter hold seminars to meet one another. Artists delegate corners for their work, depicting cartoons berating politicians, the revolution’s martyrs, memories of January 25. Every so often, an exodus leaves the square, heading toward the cabinet offices or the Ministry of the Interior with heads and voices raised high. A movie of Gamal Abdul Nasser’s 1952 revolution echoes across the pavement. Socialists hold mini conferences outside of their tent to discuss labor rights and Mubarak’s rampant privatization. Angsty </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">shabab </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">boys with nothing better to do wonder the square, running into old men shouting at each other about elections and new ministers. There is a tension to the square, in that no one is united or even sure of what they want to accomplish by being there. There is a sense of both disappointment and renewed vigor, in that </span><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/jul/12/egypt-revolution-rut-military-obstacles"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Egyptians left the streets too early</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, leaving the crooked system in place instead of replacing it with a revolutionary government. But despite all this, there is a simultaneous cohesion, a desire to build something - the new Egypt.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Welcome to Tahrir.</span></span></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-652096878305440102011-07-10T14:25:00.000-07:002011-07-12T05:53:47.973-07:00You cannot sleep without dreaming; you must dream so vivaciously and fiercely that it becomes your waking life<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I have never gone through an efficient checkpoint in Egypt; rather, they tend to be jokes where a security guard will glance at your bag and ignore the metal detector that goes off. Not at <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">Tahrir on July 8th</span></span></i></b>. Average civilians had formed committees at every entrance to the square, splitting attendees into male and female lines. Egyptians were protecting the revolution, refusing to let anyone in to corrupt their day of expression. No <i>bultagiya</i> (government/army-hired thugs) here!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The atmosphere inside the square was a mixture of apprehension and eagerness, no one knowing quite what they were waiting for, everyone expecting something momentous nonetheless. Graceful and poignant Arabic script billowed across the square on banners raised high, the wind moving the heavy heat and pollution across the faces of the banner bearers. Children decorated with Egyptian flag paraphernalia posed for patriotic pictures, and young men leaned against one another chain-smoking incessantly. A series of stages encircled the main square, reeling people in with <i>Allahu Akbar</i> and chants of freedom. Back toward the Egyptian Museum, the road crawled and swarmed with the masses, bulging toward the square with the force of the River Nile. Here it came, they were coming, it was happening, I was there. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBFh5GLf84Bd9WTnuIhB4_t0PjCC3u7nrXzE3Qc-8ZJX5t9Vz6SwxePkFW35ckxJh5XNzoT24DOvGL4xSkBINOHcvrHYxlY4nmWm0lbAlc23HZM7VhAwFbK9hJo2RLMuqvdyIPElQVN9i/s1600/279223_1978938593314_1238610154_32012461_2943799_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBFh5GLf84Bd9WTnuIhB4_t0PjCC3u7nrXzE3Qc-8ZJX5t9Vz6SwxePkFW35ckxJh5XNzoT24DOvGL4xSkBINOHcvrHYxlY4nmWm0lbAlc23HZM7VhAwFbK9hJo2RLMuqvdyIPElQVN9i/s400/279223_1978938593314_1238610154_32012461_2943799_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After the noon prayer, the energy surged and people lurched forward demanding the fall of Field Marshall Tantawi, the “purification” of the putrid system still festering in Egypt’s new political order, and the transparent hurrying of the trials to punish the former regime’s old bullies. I was merely standing witness. It was hard to comprehend all the nuanced political and social interactions taking place on the ground. First of all, my guard is always up as a foreign woman in a potentially tense environment, and that necessity sometimes prevents me from fully appreciating or experiencing something. Second are the mere logistical barriers of language and physical space. It is a testament to the power of the internet that I get more information by sitting at home on my laptop. But the persistent spirit of the revolution does not get transferred through wires across miles; the aura reigning in the square was unique only to the cloisters of people circulating that political and patriotic energy, only to the activists’ tents standing guard, “sitting in”, only to the relentless sun blaring over Tahrir.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I was most struck by the importance of this <u>process</u><span style="font-style: normal;"> to the Egyptian people. No, not everyone supports these protests. Yes, over 100 parties had come with no unified request. Yes, it must ultimately be about the result - social justice, bread, dignity, and a few </span><i>ginea</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> to pocket - but it is just as much about this rich undertaking they call <b>democracy</b>, this up and down, step by step chaos that has people in the throes of debate and argument at all times. It may not be perfect, and it may not ever reach an ideal anywhere, but I truly believe it is what we must all keep stumbling toward as a global society. It can only be better than the alternative, the oppressive laziness that Egypt suffered under for so long. You cannot sleep without dreaming; you must dream so vivaciously and fiercely that it becomes your waking life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I am living and breathing this revolution. I wake up and wonder how the activists in Tahrir slept in their tents. My classes revolve, even ever so tenuously, around the revolution; they even take place based on what happens in Tahrir Square. Every single Egyptian measures time in “before, or after” the revolution. My social outings consist of at least stopping by the square to witness the happenings, or more likely, to wonder around for hours talking to people, to catch whatever I can understand of the political sloganeering. Down time is spent obsessively and somewhat guiltily gobbling up whatever news I can gather from my various blogs and newspapers. Before I shut my eyes at night, my thoughts wonder to the next step, the next incident, my next run-in with this machine they call the Egyptian Revolution.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I claim to not want to participate, but a growing chunk of my heart yearns to feel the pride and emotion Egyptians are feeling for their homeland. A muffled part of my voice wants to cry out in unison against the system like I did so long ago in the streets of DC and New York against the Bush administration. I am so eager to sink myself into this inspiring dilemma that it is beginning to consume me. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Tonight was overwhelming, and never have I felt so tossed and turned by the mélange of politics and emotion around me. It started as many afternoons and evenings have in Tahrir, with my foreign friends and I being approached by Egyptians every so often, curious as to what we could possibly think of their revolution. There have been people conducting a sit-in in Tahrir for some time now, certainly since July 8th. Dusk grew thicker, and so did the crowd around us, more and more men drawn to the cluster against the backdrop of the somewhat empty square. Once they saw a tall white man and gold locks (my friends), they were tantalized enough to stay and find out what these people speaking Arabic in strange accents had to say. Trendy young Egyptian men hovered around me, grandfather<span style="font-style: normal;">s shoved their way to my side. I grew frustrated with the same questions haranguing us: why did America support Israel, how did she feel now that she had lost her longtime ally Hosni Mubarak? I was expected to not only speak for the American government’s foreign policy, but for the entire assumedly homogenous and unified American public. I bit my tongue, struggling not to sarcastically comment that if they waited a moment, I would call Obama and ask why American did this or didn't do that. I tried to speak as only one</span><i> </i><span style="font-style: normal;">American, a Puerto Rican, an activist, a liberal interested in their language, culture, revolution. But the constant bombardment was not sustainable. That is not to say I felt in </span><u>danger</u><span style="font-style: normal;"> - most of the Egyptians around me were engaging in productive conversation and protecting me from the few that harassed or criticized - but I was not comfortable. We extracted ourselves from the crowd around us that had swelled to perhaps 40-50. We thanked Tahrir for an exhilarating evening, and with a couple Egyptian friends accompanying us, we left the revolution in the square for the evening.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I must find balance, as in every facet of life. This is not my revolution, and I must take solace in being a mere witness to history. Even if I want to spend my free time buried in newspapers and political conversations trying to decipher the latest, I must make time for the other things that brought me here, including my language studies, my search for my ambition, and the exploration of the world. I must make space in my lungs for the wind that doesn’t blow only through Tahrir. It’s all about balance.<o:p></o:p></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-46022830933498235252011-07-07T17:16:00.000-07:002011-07-07T17:16:19.801-07:00The Revolution Will Be Graffitied/Hummed/ActedArtistic expression in the Middle East has always found its innovation in the dark alleys of despotism, with literary geniuses and artists ducking around corners to avoid the harsh hand of authoritarians trying to wrench away their freedom of expression. Novels have told of Arabs trudging through a life void of jobs and bread, always stagnant, never progressing. Poems have railed against the Israeli occupation and the acquiescence of every Arab regime to foreign powers, lamenting the lack of revolt among the populace.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And now? Now, the revolutions will be spray-painted, sung, monologued, stanza-ed, brush-stroked, exposed in the dark room. Naturally, art is one of the most meaningful ways to record and process the outpourings of expression that have bubbled over in this so-called Arab Spring (quite a long spring.) In Egypt, art has been the constant camera throughout the revolution, faithfully recording Egyptians’ pride, persistence, and passion.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It has functioned simply to document what happened, to ensure no one in Egypt or the world ever forgets the Feb. 2nd battle between government-hired thugs on camels and protesters trying to enter Tahrir Square, or the unity on display between Copts and Muslims, or the hundreds of martyrs that fell during the bloodiest days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCk0TGd-LQn98ryra_olBDAlB-Qg5DWqqWxqF3FRY-s3WNVDIKqb9ht_m7Fd8S9f09zHtu-TJw9-r3ActN4Fm1dMPcxGFlqivkpte6M-EWqOQV-B9me2DaBkt3rXRJTXRlv_15FmUZlRx/s1600/100_2750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCk0TGd-LQn98ryra_olBDAlB-Qg5DWqqWxqF3FRY-s3WNVDIKqb9ht_m7Fd8S9f09zHtu-TJw9-r3ActN4Fm1dMPcxGFlqivkpte6M-EWqOQV-B9me2DaBkt3rXRJTXRlv_15FmUZlRx/s320/100_2750.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/%D8%B1%D8%A7%D8%A8%D8%B7%D8%A9-%D9%81%D9%86%D8%A7%D9%86%D9%8A-%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%AB%D9%88%D8%B1%D8%A9/111319282277043?sk=info">Revolution Artists Union</a> has made sure of that. The group formed during the revolution, often creating work directly from Tahrir, and since then, they have had multiple exhibits, one of which is in the metro station at the square. Egyptians gather around the paintings daily to stare in awe at their revolutionary handiwork; I have seen many a mother holding her child up to a painting and explaining lovingly explaining its salience. No one will easily forget the spirit of unity pervasive throughout the square, thanks to “Sout al-Hurriya”. The song is actually made up of a number of slogans shouted and held up on signs during the height of the uprising, and every single Egyptian knows the words, and I guarantee you every single Egyptian gets goose bumps and tears in their eyes when they hear it. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLTpnfvudGc&feature=related">In the streets of my country, the voice of freedom is calling...</a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But I think the most important role the paintbrush, the pen, and the guitar can take up is that of the teacher. The Revolution Artists Union states that among its goals are to teach the morals and principals of the revolution: social justice, freedom, and dignity. A revolution must not merely fell the corrupt system, rather, it must rebuild, and that restoration of an entire society begins with the individual. I recently read an op-ed of Alaa al-Aswaany’s (in Arabic!), author of the Yacoubian Building (and whom I saw speak the other day!), in which he wrote of a lull during the height of protests in Tahrir, when he threw a cigarette box on the ground; a woman admonished him to pick it up. He then realized, "We are building a new Egypt... it must be clean." It is changing the way you live - picking up trash, not driving as to endanger others, not trying to rip others off - that paves the way for a society that will not stand for another dictator. Art serves to remind Egyptians, and all of us, of the innate goodness we all carry within. Art's raw beauty, its truth, its reflection of humanity, bring out the best. Call me an idealist, but I think that this sort of integrity will save the revolution, and maybe start another one.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2086561676994.120371.1033736879">Graffiti</a> has become a common sight on just about every block, <a href="http://english.aljazeera.net//video/middleeast/2011/06/2011624163422133769.html">chronicling</a> the revolution and its sentiments.<br />
<a href="http://www.jadaliyya.com/pages/index/2036/kareem-abdulsalam_teargas-poems">Tear-gas poems</a>, by Kareem Abdul Salam.<br />
A <a href="http://wordswithoutborders.org/issue/july-2011/">tribute</a> to all the literary artists of the Arab Spring, courtesy of Words Without Borders.<br />
<a href="http://www.thedailynewsegypt.com/theater/tahrir-monologues-a-declaration-of-independence.html">Tahrir Monologues</a>, a performance of revolutionary testimonies.<br />
<!--StartFragment--><!--EndFragment--> <br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Tomorrow is <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_650037740">July 8</a><a href="http://twitter.com/#!/search/%23Jul8">th</a>, another day of rage/persistence, a day to speed up trials of murderers, to demand a new constitution, to expose the police for their abuse, to <a href="http://blogs.cfr.org/cook/2011/07/07/egypt-five-things-to-know-going-into-the-day-of-persistence/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+scook+%28Steven+A.+Cook%3A+From+the+Potomac+to+the+Euphrates%29">tell the military and the still criminal system</a> that the Egyptian people are <a href="http://egyptianchronicles.blogspot.com/2011/07/july8th-revolution-phase-2.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+EgyptianChronicles+%28Egyptian+chronicles%29#.ThY6FK7gUwI">still in the midst of their revolution</a>, and that neither their voices nor their paintbrushes will rest until justice is achieved. Please keep Egypt in your thoughts and prayers - may it be a peaceful and successful protest. Please take a minute to also think of places like Syria, Libya, Yemen, and Bahrain, where people are filling the streets with their cries for freedom and their blood.<br />
<br />
جميلة</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-24059479247515232272011-06-29T02:57:00.000-07:002011-06-29T03:09:45.080-07:00Update on Tahrir Clashes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Sabah al-eshtebaakaat! Good morning of the clashes!<br />
<br />
My classes have been cancelled for the day, since clashes between protesters and the police are still going on, and their focal point is right outside the gate to the American University of Cairo, where I take classes. Last night, Egyptians came out throwing rocks and chanting anti-police slogans - numbers are hard to peg, but I'd say they probably got to 3000, although no more than 4-5000. As morning crept in, protesters slugged home, leave perhaps a few hundred in the corner of the square by AUC. There seems to be a sort of a stalemate at the moment, with protesters unable to do more than hurl sidewalk tiles, and the police defending the Ministry of the Interior, but not advancing. They police have been given orders by the SCAF (Supreme Council of the Armed Forces) to stop, so perhaps that explains their halt, or they just don't have the manpower to take all of Tahrir. Either way, that is <a href="http://english.ahram.org.eg/News/15250.aspx">where things stand as of this morning</a>, with clouds of tear gas billowing around Tahrir as the rest of Cairo goes on its daily hustle & bustle.<br />
<br />
I gathered some of this from my friend Chris, who bravely/foolishly went to Tahrir this morning, as well as Twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/search/%23Tahrir">(#Tahrir)</a> and some other bloggers. Part of me - the part that painted peace signs and bussed down to DC to protest the invasion of Iraq and did cartwheels in front of Westover Air Force Base - is dying to go down there, just to be witness. The revolutionary spirit gives me the jitters, raises the hair on my arms, brings tears to my eyes. I want Egypt to succeed so badly, to flourish into whatever peaceful and providing country Egyptians want it to be. But I know it is not my fight, and I know I would not feel safe or comfortable being there right now - Chris said he got some critical looks, perhaps as a result of all the expired tear gas canisters with "Made in the USA" written on them. Plus I want to respect the wishes of my friends and family to stay away.<br />
<br />
Power to the people, yes, but I don't see the utility in these spontaneous clashes, in and of themselves, since no unified message is being broadcasted and violence is reigning. I see the<a href="http://theangryegyptian.wordpress.com/2011/06/29/june28-the-second-coming-of-rage/"> reasons behind them</a>: people angry about the martyrs' postponed trials, frustrated with SCAF's lack of progress or transparency and their crackdown on dissenters, and fearful of the revolution and the constitution being hijacked. Their value will be apparent in coming weeks, I hope, in re-rallying the populace to make noise about the stagnation. Those extremely active in the hopping Egyptian left and those doing the most rabble-rousing are a small segment of Egypt's 80 million. I hope these protests serve to mobilize other Egyptians to come out to protests <a href="http://www.almasryalyoum.com/en/node/471565">July 8th</a> in Tahrir and around the country and keep the pressure on SCAF, politicians from the old system, and nascent political representatives, too.<br />
<br />
I would just like to emphasize that Cairo is huge, and in my neighborhood, life continues without sign of police or tear gas. My program will likely air on the side of caution, so I don't expect to be in Tahrir any time soon. I am being careful. Check out the links I've included here: I would read them over any Western sources any day!<br />
<br />
Keep Egypt in your thoughts,<br />
<br />
جميلة</div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-5637629768989905032011-06-28T17:18:00.000-07:002011-06-28T17:18:05.814-07:00Tahrir Round 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It's 2am, but Egyptians won't let me sleep. My eyes are tired, but all this information being thrown at me won't let my brain and heart shut down. I think the second wave of the revolution is here. Protests have been happening at the sites of various trials that are attempting to hold accountable those responsible for the death of hundreds of protesters/martyrs during the days of the revolution. Many of the trials keep getting postponed, why I do not know, but it is infuriating to their families and the millions of Egyptians who want justice. It seems to me that <a href="http://www.arabawy.org/2011/06/28/martyrs-families-clash-with-the-police-pigs/">protests erupted at these sites</a> throughout the day and little by little have spread back to the home of freedom, Midan Tahrir. Since the late hours of June 28th, protesters have been clashing with the Central Security Forces (CSF), aka the police. This includes lots of tear gas being thrown, lights partially out in the square, and rocks being thrown. The various <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/search/%23Tahrir">Tweeters</a> and <a href="http://mubasher.aljazeera.net/">live feeds</a> I'm looking at guestimate a couple-few thousand in the square, so although more people could be drawn to it, it seems likely it will be dispersed by morning. Interesting that it is exactly 5 months to the day after one of the most violent days of the revolution, January 28th, known as the day of rage. This Friday, July 1st, there has been a call for Salafi Muslims to protest for the imposition of Sharia law - there will now undoubtedly be large counterprotests. Next Friday, July 8th, a large swath of activists from different parties under the banner of the Freedom Front for Peaceful Change (FFPC) have called for a million-man march to reclaim the spirit of the revolution and all the demands it called for. Among those are calls for the fundamental human rights that have been lacking for so long in Egypt as well as the writing of the constitution first before elections. Could this be the surge that reclaims the revolution? It's too early to tell, but there is certainly a tense feeling to the air, as all wait with breaths held for the next uprising and transformation...<div><br />
</div><div>I am fine, in my apartment relatively far from Tahrir. But my classes are right on the square, so I am assuming I will hear from my program in the morning as to whether or not classes will be held. Thought I would share this exciting news with you all. Check here for more random videos of <a href="http://bambuser.com/channel/tarekshalaby/broadcast/1778358">tonight's clashes</a>.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Thoughts & hearts with Egypt!!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Yamila</div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-7281554311554819872011-06-23T16:00:00.000-07:002011-06-24T11:08:29.488-07:00Spirit of the Revolution<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The wind swept the summer away as I stepped off the train, whisking me to what felt like springtime. I was undoubtedly in Alexandria, the pearl of the Mediterranean and my true Egyptian love, having narrowly escaped Cairo’s <i>zahma wa dawsha</i> (congestion & noise). Don’t get me wrong, Cairo is growing on me by the day with its disorderly streets spanning millennia and its somewhat cooled evenings brimming with cultural events. But Alexandria will always hold a place in my heart: maybe I fell too easily for my first abroad experience or the flawless sunsets over the Mediterranean, or maybe she just wooed me with her silent charm. Alex may seem to wane in Cairo’s shadow, but she just warrants a second look, and then her distinctive beauty becomes clear.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbNFHhsXCkpPtU4C7r_ZnzG0zKrNpeb9d2i6eQXo_UTdmjJNBgECqxmF-7U9i5ihfN01W53hAuco3TlcFMzDWiTFnVMldCfeGx9uw0PFAMnlZtSe5w__fNRmyISm5Py6dvDmMvLv1SULy/s1600/100_2804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbNFHhsXCkpPtU4C7r_ZnzG0zKrNpeb9d2i6eQXo_UTdmjJNBgECqxmF-7U9i5ihfN01W53hAuco3TlcFMzDWiTFnVMldCfeGx9uw0PFAMnlZtSe5w__fNRmyISm5Py6dvDmMvLv1SULy/s320/100_2804.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">After visiting our favorite juice stand and sucking up the textured sugar with glee, my friends and I made our way out toward the Corniche, the deadly road running along the heavenly ocean. As the street fell away behind us, I felt like we were nearing paradise, and the view only affirmed this. We strolled silently along the Mediterranean’s curves, and I felt at ease in the company of the ocean’s strength, a sentiment cultivated in summers in Puerto Rico. We arrived at Silsila Cafe, an old seashore haunt of our semester abroad, and settled in to drink mint tea and talk revolution with our Egyptian friend Mohammad Wahaba.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Wahaba told us how different the revolution had been in Alexandria. Mainly, there is no central square in Alex like Cairo’s Midan Tahrir, which can easily fit a million people, so protestors resorted to winding through the streets chanting their demands, zig-zagging every now and then to avoid police blockades. Activist organized sit-ins, different marches coordinated in order to meet and reignite the energy, and bystanders were encouraged to join. Since then, activists continue to organize around certain causes and events; <a href="http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2011/05/201151074321369966.html">this article</a> chronicles the weeks immediately following Mubarak’s fall, when the West thought the revolution was over, but it was really just getting started. When I asked Wahaba, a sharp and educated young doctor, about his take on the upcoming elections, I was struck by his optimism that there would be little violence or protests during the elections and that they would be fair and their outcome positive for Egypt. It was evident that he recognized democracy’s learning curve and was thus not expecting immediate change.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Later that evening, I reunited with one of my professors, Heba, a powerhouse Coptic woman who heads up the English department at Alexandria University. With her loving and enunciating voice slipping between English and Arabic (and even a bit of French), she described to me the way in which <b>Egyptians</b><span style="font-style: normal;">, not Muslims or Christians, came together during the height of the uprising. For at least five days, there were no police in Alex, and Heba beamed as she proudly told me how youth protected their neighborhoods from any looters. As we looked out over the Alexandrian harbor twinkling in the cool night, her patriotism was infectious, and I wished more than ever I had been in Egypt (and Egyptian!) during that time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My gracious Egyptian friend Asmaa hosted my roommate and I that evening, and she, too, had tales to tell of the tumultuous days of the January 25<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;">th </span></span>movement (in addition to stories about having just gotten engaged!) She is doing her residency at one of the hospitals in the city, and she regaled us with horror stories of people coming in with injured comrades and fighting one another for access to the hospital, and even threatening doctors. For her, the resounding sentiment was fear and apprehension, although when she spoke to of us of her country’s future, her tone eased and I could hear the hope filtering through. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I share with you these vignettes of my trip not only to highlight how great it was to rekindle my romance with Alexandria, but to introduce you to Egyptians. This week in class we used the theme “The Egyptian Personality” to explore vocabulary and expressions and culture. Many of the articles we read pointed to the patience and faith Egyptians possess, and these were on colorful display in Alexandria this weekend. Egyptians understand that democracy is a process that does not just appear on your doorstep overnight, that it must be worked for. I have asked many an Egyptian which candidate or party platform they support and though their nuanced political answers often seem daunting, they’ll usually end with, “But that’s democracy!” It is this patient spirit, <i>sabr</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, that is so noteworthy in Egyptians’ attitude toward their ongoing revolution. It is this unwavering faith in their nation that leaves me so impressed. On the other hand, it seems to me that there is a fine line between patience and apathy. When does waiting become lackadaisical? I think, that after this massive shaking of Egyptian society, I need not fear that things will revert to the political indifference of the Mubarak era. I will borrow some of the hope that Egyptians plow through their every day with.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In other news, my <i>istikshaaf</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> (exploration) of Cairo continues with vigor! I had the most fun this week grocery shopping, believe it or not. In Egypt, this includes visiting the man who sells spices and dried goods out of drawers in his nook of a store, the veggie market in </span><i>Wust al-Balad</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> (downtown), the fruit stand across the street, the butcher, and the normal grocery store. It’s great for building vocabulary, and it’s lovely chatting with Egyptians, who are thrilled to welcome me to their country. I also paid a visit this week to <a href="http://petercrawford1947.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/mohammed-ali-mosque-the-citadel-cairo-egypt.jpg?w=500&h=385">Mohammad Ali’s citadel</a>, whose Ottoman style minarets dominate the city’s skyline, where some CASA fellows and I enjoyed an outdoor concert. Check out this video of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7LgfPUYebes">Nassir Shamm, the famous Iraqi ‘oud player</a> whose music took me across Arabia all the way to Papi playing his guitarra in the living room. I have also recently hung out with mummies, read 120 pages of Arabic in 2 days, and had impromptu meetings with Iraqi politicians and businessmen!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Upcoming posts will focus on the challenges of the parliamentary and presidential elections this fall, as well as the role of art in realizing the Egyptian peoples’ revolution. Love to you all!!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">جميلة</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">PS - <a href="http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1912345208521.2104513.1238610154&l=34ae1eba55">Some photos!!</a></div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-75215651436699093212011-06-10T17:44:00.000-07:002011-07-19T01:39:25.305-07:00First Words from Egypt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Greetings from Um a-Duniyya, the mother of the world, as they call this gracefully chaotic city. It feels like almost an eternity that I’ve been here in Cairo; I don’t know if that has to do with already having been here, the ancientness of the city, or the mere amount of stimulation I’ve absorbed in 9 days. Whatever the case, there is much to share.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>“I’m surrounded by concrete slabs, windows and porches etched into them. Blankets and hijabs wave at me from neighboring balconies, and way off in the southeast distance, my eyes barely make out the pyramids, standing silent watch. Two crows caw at one another across the way, while the streets below them beep and hiss and haggle.”</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">This is Doqqi, a neighborhood across the Nile from downtown Cairo where I live. It is thankfully dotted with shade-lending trees that provide an imaginary respite from the choking car fumes that the city is rank with. Negotiating our apartment and signing the contract was an amusing and relatively painless ordeal that introduced us to a gruff broker and his bigmouth wife, who now regularly pops by to bring us curtains and drink tea. My two Tufts roommates and I have a balcony from which you can dimly make out the pyramids’ in the distance, and on which we have already enjoyed dominos and cards with friends. Our entire apartment is incredibly gaudy; the headboard to my bed is extravagantly and absurdly wonderful. I have meandered the neighborhood some, encountering a number of produce stands, kufta and other meat sandwich shops, as well as the Yemeni and Bulgarian embassies. It seems to be a middle class neighborhood with a little bit of everything.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">My first 10 days seem to have both flown and crawled. The sweltering days are quickly filled here, but I also feel I have been giving my body - lungs and mind, legs and heart - time to adjust to this journey. I have certainly been seizing the day: I have seen two of my close Egyptian friends from Alexandria, met my classmates at various rooftop bars and hole in the wall eateries, seen two movies in Spanish with Arabic subtitles (culture meshing!), and have walked all over the city looking up and down and all around and talking to anyone I can. My to do/see list is endless, as this city is a culture hub; I plan on doing Islamic and Coptic Cairo, going to a Libyan festival at al-Azhar park, visiting many museums and galleries, and going salsa-ing. But I have a whole year here, so I am not rushing to see this and that. Time is the friend of simplicity, calmness, and peace, all forces I want to guide my life, particularly in a city as overwhelming as this one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I have started classes with <a href="http://www.utexas.edu/cola/centers/casa/">CASA</a>, the Center for Arabic Study Abroad, which is housed at the American University at Cairo (AUC), right in Tahrir Square. Our facilities are very nice, and on top of that, we have access to their swank and modern campus, although it is an hour outside of the city. My peers seem nice enough, and many of them at higher Arabic levels, so that has been daunting when it comes to vocabulary in Fus-Ha, or the Modern Standard Arabic classes we take. Our only other class for the summer semester is Amiyya Masriyya, Egyptian Colloquial. Our teachers seem top-rate, as do the language materials, and this academic year will undoubtedly challenge my Arabic skills.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I know, I know, you all just really want to hear about the revolution. Are things different? What do Egyptians want? Was the revolution successful? These thoughts consume me daily, and I am trying to gobble up as much as I can about the situation here. The streets and their faces don’t necessarily reveal the fact that a massive political change just shook the country, but there is a hopeful atmosphere about that I can’t really describe. I went to a conference at AUC last weekend entitled “From Tahrir: Revolution or Democratic Transition?”, where Egyptians and foreigners alike discussed topics such as the vibrant youth movements and the role of the judiciary in the “New Egypt”. From that, my perusing of numerous Egyptian blogs, and my conversations with Egyptians, I have gathered the following:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">1.) The revolution has only just begun. Although its most symbolic success to date was obviously the fall of Mubarak, his demise does not mean Egypt is now free of oppression. Many of the activists and average citizens involved in the January 25<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;">th </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">movement fear that their revolution will be hijacked by the military (its Supreme Council of the Armed Forces, SCAF, is running the country) or by status quo political powers still lurking, such as the Muslim Brotherhood and Mubarak’s old party, the National Democratic Party (NDP). So there is still an old and faulty system to overthrow, and then there is so much to build!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">2.) Yes, the revolution will be tweeted/blogged/Facebooked, but the forces of the internet were not and are not </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">causal</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> in the revolution. I was really frustrated back when the revolution was first blossoming by everyone’s claims that this political change was because of Twitter and Facebook. No. These internet sites were merely tools used by activists, but the demands and actions were concrete and acted upon by real people. In fact, for much of the revolution, there was a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ramyraoof/5814392791/sizes/l/in/photostream/">telecommunications shutdown</a> that prevented the use of Facebook, Twitter, etc. Many of the protestors instead tuned into <a href="http://english.aljazeera.net/news/middleeast/">Al Jazeera</a> to find out where their fellow countrymen had been staging protests and to know where to go the next day. Additionally, many of the labor strikes that have been going on for years now are led by folks without access to the cyber community.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">3.) This didn’t come out of nowhere. Although the west was blind to the grassroots activism that had been taking place for years before the Arab Spring, it was undoubtedly laying the foundations for this sweeping transformation. Its roots are found outside of formal institutions, in Kefaya, the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">April 6th youth movement, and the We Are Khalid Said movement. Kefaya (meaning “enough”) was formed around the time of the second Palestinian Intifada in 2000, and it subsequently staged actions to oppose the U.S. invasion of Iraq and then in 2005 around parliamentary elections. In 2008, activists formed the April 6<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;">th</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> movement and called for labor </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">strikes nationwide. In summer of 2010, two plainclothes policemen brutally murdered a young Alexandrian named Khalid Said, setting off a series of protests focused on police abuse, long rampant under Mubarak.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">4.) The above descriptions of Egypt’s activists lead me to realize that there is true activism happening here. Much of it is tied to labor. I have walked by a couple strikes at the subway station at Tahrir Square, where I take classes, and others happen daily in factories, the airport, and government. Protests are called for almost every Friday in Tahrir, and although they are too small, they are important because they keep SCAF on its toes and provide a necessary forum for Egyptians to gather and share their latest political musings. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Some of the issues Egyptians are concerned with are:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">1.) A-Dastour awlan, ow al-entekhabat? <b>The Constitution first, or elections</b>? In a referendum on March 19<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;">th</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">, Egyptians voted on a package of constitutional amendments. They passed overwhelmingly with record voter turnout, and 77% of voters decided that elections should be held in the fall, after which a council of experts would be organized by the new parliament in order to write the constitution. But many are calling for the constitution to first be revised. Check out one of my favorite bloggers, <a href="http://www.arabist.net/blog/2011/6/9/egypt-a-new-constitution-first.html">The Arabist</a>’s, post about this issue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">2.) The <b>Egyptian army</b> has long been extolled as “being one with the people”, and its actions reflected that during the January 25<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;">th</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"> uprising, as it refused orders to fire on citizens (if any were given) and in fact appears to have convinced Mubarak to go. Not only are they strong in terms of military acquisitions, but they wield a great deal of economic might within Egypt, as they own large plots of land and are now making a big for Egypt’s lucrative gas fields. But now many Egyptians are worried that SCAF will be the new authoritarians in town. The SCAF has made protests or strikes illegal in Egypt, continues to arrest journalists and activists and try them in military courts, and could even field a candidate for the presidential elections later this year.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">3.) <b>Trying Mubarak</b> and all his NDP cronies. One of the panels I went to was on the role of the judiciary, which is now expected to monitor elections in the fall, <i>and </i>try Mubarak in August, in addition to many involved in the state apparatus responsible for the torture, disappearance, and death of many. While justice seems the logical path to follow, can the country economically and emotionally undergo a series of intense trials as such? Will they be fair, or is SCAF just trying to appease protesters by saying Mubarak will be tried? What if Egypt tried something like South Africa did, where politicians were given immunity from prosecution if they came forward about their crimes? Check out <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2011/06/08/will-mubaraks-trial-unite-or-divide-egypt/mubaraks-trial-a-united-force-but-not-for-long">this article</a> by a Middlebury student who spent time in Syria's jails.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I’ve linked to a number of good blogs and articles above, and you can find a list of the blogs I read to the right of this one. Jadaliyya chronicles events awesomely in the region, and has a great interview here with <a href="http://www.jadaliyya.com/pages/index/797/a-portrait-of-a-revolutionary_hossam-el-hamalawy-o">Hossam Hamalawy</a>, long an activist in Egypt. Hossam’s blog is <a href="http://www.arabawy.org/">Arabawy</a>, and although it carries specific details about protests and people that might be hard to follow, it is worth taking a look to witness the workings of a true Arab revolutionary. I heard this man speak at the AUC conference after having followed his blog for a while: he is a labor activist and has been imprisoned and tortured by Mubarak’s thugs. At the conference, he spoke of Che and Lenin, saying that the Egyptian revolution was not peaceful because the protestors needed to defend themselves (as in most revolutions), and stating that "every Egyptian institution now has to purge itself of the mini-Mubaraks". He is my Egyptian idol. Also check out <a href="http://egyptianchronicles.blogspot.com/">Egyptian Chronicles</a>, very detailed and specific, but enlightening. This <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/29/magazine/egypts-next-crisis.html?_r=1&emc=eta1">NYT Magazine piece</a> is stellar.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I’m sorry to have gone on so long, but as you can see, I am quite ecstatic to be here. Despite the discomforts life in Egypt can present, and the constant homesickness I feel, I know I am very fortunate. What better moment for an Orientalist such as myself to be in Egypt? I hope to share it all with you along the way. Please comment and banter and disprove me!</span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRGomz5qqU5ReEiJY7a5o4GaDDDH8qBFgQf4oN_aHcx00hqw0G55KZeIjkVDEbpRK2eHB9ofwNOSLLEbuBy9UpNX6iGWRp8CQOrWIDYTZbAufaHqw3tHvlneIXUsvj-Tya6n2H02xIz4u/s1600/100_2722.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRGomz5qqU5ReEiJY7a5o4GaDDDH8qBFgQf4oN_aHcx00hqw0G55KZeIjkVDEbpRK2eHB9ofwNOSLLEbuBy9UpNX6iGWRp8CQOrWIDYTZbAufaHqw3tHvlneIXUsvj-Tya6n2H02xIz4u/s320/100_2722.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Besos pa' todos,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Yamila جميلة</span></div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-33154656003161494582010-02-16T15:17:00.001-08:002010-02-16T15:17:58.385-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljtMKLpatUDg8F1C9e3vPX78l7rgDQCVZjZA5rSO5bN8OAX_NTcZrilA-iWpLi3xTFJXUpUex4WoOeb5KBfwhAjYz5BF1QrBpejAndQD18OOEDC3GQxDNwrQaWdoN_pEJqZNFneJJwXVB/s1600-h/DSC06309.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljtMKLpatUDg8F1C9e3vPX78l7rgDQCVZjZA5rSO5bN8OAX_NTcZrilA-iWpLi3xTFJXUpUex4WoOeb5KBfwhAjYz5BF1QrBpejAndQD18OOEDC3GQxDNwrQaWdoN_pEJqZNFneJJwXVB/s400/DSC06309.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438984507508132818" /></a>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-67932063198751101492009-12-19T01:58:00.000-08:002009-12-20T16:36:35.125-08:00Eshufikou 3la Khair...<div style="text-align: left;">So the Middlebury semester has officially come to an end, and I have watched as all my American friends have departed Egypt's shores. It has been sad to say good-bye; we undoubtedly got closer over a trying semester, and I hope to see many of them back state-side. Wednesday night, we celebrated with an amusing talent show accompanied by dinner, plus the remaining people went to a movie the other night. I am not ready for this adventure to end, so I'm glad I have more time here to soak up Alex, Cairo, and my lovely Egyptians. Meanwhile, some observations, comments, ventations, lessons:</div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>1.) This is a man's world. Women are unequivocally inferior, not only in the eyes of men, but as proven by their own belief in this. A woman should be a good mother and wife. If a husband hits his wife, she was unquestionably asking for it. Men own the streets, with their hisses and growls, and they own the mosque, they own the workplace in sheer number, and they own the house when return at the end of the day. Women are the source of all evil (a direct quote from my friend Farahat, after which I told him we better stop talking about the topic because I would hit him and then we wouldn't be friends.) It is heartbreaking to hear girls and women telling me this is how it should be, discussing with me only how many kids she wants and what her wedding will be like. Are women here living in ignorant bliss, or is there a way for them to wake up and struggle for equality with men? Ask me more about this topic when you see me, because I confront it every day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>2.) There is order here in that there is no order. I am often baffled as to how society functions, but it does, in its own dysfunctional way. This chaos is best represented by Egyptian drivers and pedestrians. Egyptian drivers have an unfailing grasp of how big there car is, making them capable of fitting in any space, between any two cars, or gaging their speed and lane-swaying just right so they don't hit the pedestrian ahead of them. I have never understood the phrase "dodging traffic" until now, a feat made easy by Egyptian pedestrians. This goes not only for traffic, but any sort of line, business, or institutions. Similarly, problems here only have temporary solutions. For example, if the tram driver would just learn to shut the doors of the tram as his job requires, Austin may not have had his accident, but somehow, arresting him seemed like a better solution to the police. Another example, when my friend Chelsea was having chest pains and vomiting, the doctor diagnosed that she was "allergic to Egypt." Ah yes, Doctor, thank you for your official and accurate diagnosis that has no treatment. This shows how, despite a semi-operational society, things fail because they are not thought-out.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>3.) Egyptians love Egypt and have a very hard time criticizing it. This is either a symptom of apathy, or the cause of their apathy, or both, not sure. Apathy grows from fear, fear of the unknown, of change. Let me explain. About a month ago, Algeria beat Egypt in a qualifying match for the 2010 World Cup, and the violent turnout was absurd. Egyptians absolutely refused to believe that they had done any wrong. Even my most liberal Egyptian friends defend the most irritating and conservative aspects of society here. The notion that "dissent is patriotic" does not exist. The source of this disinterest in changing one's country stems from fear that the status quo could be worse. Egyptians could be living under a dictator like Saddam Hussein who hunted his citizens, rather than a dictator masquerading behind democracy like Mubarak. They could be living with civil war and disease, much like their neighbors to the Sub-Saharan south. So relatively speaking, I guess you could say they have it good enough, so they'll vote with their pocketbook rather than hope.</div><div><br /></div><div>4.) Jews and Gays are not on Egyptians' radar, and that is intentional. When a chit-chatty taxi driver asks me my religion (a normal introductory question here), Judaism is never an option. If an Egyptian doesn't like Obama, it's because "he likes the Jews". For your average uneducated Egyptian, there is no distinction between being Jewish and being an Israeli and/or Zionist. Israel and Palestine is a very sensitive topic that rouses even the most unpolitical Egyptian. I went to an action film that depicted all the Israelis as pure evil, and when I pointed that out to my Egyptian friends, they said that was normal. There may be a delicate alliance between the countries' governments, but there is nothing delicate about the way Egyptians feel about Israelis. Being gay just doesn't exist, it is that sinful. I would be curious to find out more about that community and what it experiences in a culture like this.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>5.) Islam is life. Five times a day, rhythmic voices echo over loudspeakers squeezing into alleyways and reminding me of this. TV commercials display Quranic verses, reminding me of this. Seeing another uncovered woman shocks me, and reminds me of this. In fact, the 2nd Amendment of the Egyptian Constitution states that Islam is the religion of the state! There is something beautiful about a deeply devout society, but on the other hand, I wish Egyptian society could look for other sources of knowledge and enlightenment as well.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>6.) Americans, or any foreigners living here, need to learn to laugh off the small irritating things. This includes not always having hot water, incessant catcalls and stares in the street, and general craziness and noise at all times. A lot of the students I think were unprepared for this, and maybe expected more. I'm not sure how I was able to let go and not care so easily so often. I was able to adapt and remember <i><b>"When you travel, remember that a foreign country is not designed to make you comfortable. It is designed to make its own people comfortable."</b></i> (Clifton Fadiman, stolen from Abe/Chris's blogs.) I also think my having been raised in a multicultural environment allowed me to adapt culturally and socially as well. I feel at ease with the extreme religiousness of my friends here, people's forwardness and honesty, and also their cuddly warmth and loudness. Egyptians remind me of Puerto Ricans a lot: they are always ready to laugh and celebrate something (preferably with noise, music, and food), they are incredibly welcoming and generous, and they are emotional and religious. Many of the American students complained about the homogenous environment here, claiming to be accustomed to America's melting pot. I feel that that was a liberal façade for their own intolerance; most of the program's students come from financially comfortable families in predominately white areas and go to predominately white private colleges. They have never lived or worked closely among true diversity. There was a lot of negativity from a good chunk of the program's students, but I just felt sorry for them, that they weren't able to benefit intellectually and emotionally from the experience as I was.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I do hope that was somewhat coherent and beneficial (my English has been lacking of late.) I have so much more to share with you upon my return. Until then, I'll be hurrying around Egypt to immerse myself in it as much as possible. The other night, I went to a Christmas carol performance in a stunning Coptic church with my professor. I've been spending lots of time with friends here in Alex, going to all my favorite places and laughing with my Egyptian roomies. Also, I am now bringing home a fish (if she makes it past customs), as my peachy roommate Reham thought this was a good idea for a good-bye present. Egyptians have funny thought processes. I get more emotional by the day about leaving here, but with that grows my determination to return. I am also comforted by the fact that I have such wonderful friends and family waiting for me at home.</div><div><br /></div><div>Los quiero todo un montón,</div><div><br /></div><div>Gamila جميلة</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsB-1miaSAA9L5FBo7ngEXybJNyhS9sAGtp1ixHS3FyBEPupQlk8HQzEMjl-7adsiAIhAnoPc1gwNF_5vO9DuRy_-e9OagInhFaySMYbemQsjd0Nm5HisVzo4GWpFfcHkcb0E4zfIQ_vtL/s400/DSC06580.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417480770547932626" /><div>Some of my best (American) girlfriends and me at the talent show. </div></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-88145784571619260572009-12-11T14:52:00.000-08:002009-12-11T15:03:56.032-08:00Fri. Dec. 11th, 2:40am<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>Imberah</i><span style="font-style:normal"> my 1-on-1 professor was late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As always, I expect nothing of it, since, let’s be honest, Arab time is a flimsy and malleable thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But then she phones me and confesses to being laid up in bed with a sore back… </span><i>meskeena</i><span style="font-style:normal">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Of course Veronica and I will find our way to your </span><i>sha’a</i><span style="font-style:normal"> so you can sit comfortably while you lecture us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><i>Meshii, eshuf hadratik kamaan showea</i><span style="font-style:normal">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So we casually jump into the afternoon </span><i>zehma</i><span style="font-style:normal">, garnering some good stares along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We make it to her turf, and proceeded to discuss the strength of Copic nuns and how the overdose of testosterone in men’s brains prevents them from being successful leaders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Women really should rule the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Can you fathom the challenge of dedicating yourself to dialogue with God, in a cave for decades, at that?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><i>Umne Yirini</i><span style="font-style:normal"> grew miracles from air, and my </span><i>Usteza Hiba</i><span style="font-style:normal"> guides me with her </span><i>t3leem</i><span style="font-style:normal"> down an unknown path.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There is something about this place, perhaps everyone’s inherent religiousness, that leads me to not only <u>desire</u> God, but to see him in Everything around me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Dinner includes awkward conversation, liver (a spicy tang), and dead cockroaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But I like it when those at first cumbersome conversations turn down greener paths; it is so rewarding, so I keep at it, and end up genuinely laughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’ll take that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But sitting down in a bar that would be divey in America but is just classic in Egypt with some good and familiar people is heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Chelsea, Amanda, Hima, Chris, later <i>gayeen</i><span style="font-style:normal"> Dan wi Jon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We let loose about Egypt;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> e</span>ven I need to vent, rehash, and we do, passionately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can barely remember the last time I had a political discussion, so even despite the never-ending frustration that comes with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I am intellectually grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then in walk the Arabs themselves, Karim wi Kholy, Bazooka wi Tabaakh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I feign outrage when Hima offers to sell me to Kholy, who then states he doesn’t want me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I shine because I can understand them and they me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I found </span><i>Faree’ Marwaha</i><span style="font-style:normal">, which involves me, Bazooka and Tabaakh pounding fists and whirring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Beer fills my stomach, laughter my mouth, love the rest of my body.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I wake and prepare for some sensory goodness from <i>Amreeka</i><span style="font-style:normal">!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> On the way to breakfast, </span>I am reminded of the lack of personal space in this country when a woman feels Chelsea up on the tram, meaning (in Egyptian) “Let me by”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Breakfast is a clash of kitchens, with pancakes smeared in Nutella and </span><i>frowla</i><span style="font-style:normal"> versus Egyptians strewn all about Khalid’s apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I cut strawberries and putz around, and Khalid and I beat Semeh wi Farahaat at Dominos: Team Amreeka Fuck Ya 1, Team Welcome in Masr 0.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Elley and I leave, surrendering ourselves to Alex’s streets, reaching the lengths of Mohatta Raml and crossing over into Manshiyya.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We undoubtedly feel comfortable in the city, and we look around shamelessly, seeping any last culture it can offer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I lightheartedly banter with shopkeepers, knowing they will ask my name and then “<i>Wa intii fi3lan gamila</i><span style="font-style:normal">.” As if it is original for me to hear "And you are actually beautiful" after introducing myself here.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I am unphased, even letting them convince me to by an unk made in damn China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Asking for and <u>comprehending</u> directions is one of the most gratifying experiences I will recall here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span><i>Alhamdulillah, begad</i><span style="font-style:normal">.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We dip <i>bangar</i><span style="font-style:normal"> in </span><i>tahina</i><span style="font-style:normal">, wrap our </span><i>fuul</i><span style="font-style:normal"> in </span><i>a3eesh</i><span style="font-style:normal">, top off our palette with </span><i>gibn</i><span style="font-style:normal"> almost sweet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The simple joy of food at Mohammad Ahmed calls for silence as we compete to finish as much as we can as fast as we can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And all for $2!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>That will never get old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I feel strangely Egyptian as I lean against a car licking ice cream from </span><i>Halwiyaat Masr </i><span style="font-style:normal">afterward; if only I wasn’t laughing in public while my uncovered hair billowed in the Mediterranean winter wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I depart my girlies, heading south to meet Hima & Khalid for our <i>tegriba sakafiyya</i><span style="font-style:normal">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The concert turns out to not be classical <u>Egyptian</u> music, but rather your average classical music, although strung by some very good-looking Egyptians.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span><i>M3lihsh</i><span style="font-style:normal">, I was surrounded by good company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Afterward we let the cold night push us around Mohatta Raml, glancing up and around, chit-chatting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We buy popcorn and TinTin adventures in Arabic while staring at the enigma that is an Egyptian wedding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>While </span><i>narkab-</i><span style="font-style:normal">ing the tram, Khalid guards my innocence from a gross and inappropriate man; InShaAllah Hima took note and will be a savior to some girls next semester.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I allow myself to be unaffected by it as I have been almost all semester; is this dangerous complacency or analytical acceptance?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Tabaakh and Karim and Bazooka are waiting for me, much to the conservative dismay of the soldier guarding the Medina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><i>Haraam, akeed</i><span style="font-style:normal">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Damn, I can laugh with those boys, and they can so easily become my boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Time with them pulls my steps back from leaving Masr’s shore, makes me want to waste nights in ‘</span><i>ehwas</i><span style="font-style:normal"> with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I confess to Karim how much I’ve missed him, that I never stopped caring, that I hate hearing about his moods vicariously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I adore him, for all is irritating idiosyncrasies that somehow make me dramatic, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I think I slithered into the everest green of his eyes, bypassing the gray he covers himself with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I promise them all I will come back.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I know they will all be waiting.<o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-76238655086487193512009-12-05T13:50:00.000-08:002009-12-05T15:08:07.686-08:00مدغستش من مصر<div style="text-align: left;">Ay el-helwa di?! Habibis, Azizis, besos y abrazos de Masr! Just wanted to share a couple happy days with you...</div><div><br /></div><div>This past Thursday night, a week after the actual date... drumroll... I celebrated Turkey Day in Egypt. Can cross that off my list! One of the best holidays ever, with some of the yummiest food, and some of the <i>ishta</i>-ist people. Many of us spent the day running around Alex searching for ingredients, carrying pots and pans from one apartment to another and battling with shitty Egyptian stoves. The day's toils culminated in a successful feast, <i>AlHamduLillah</i>! Almost impossibly, we ate turkey, cranberry sauce, green beans, sweet and mashed potatoes, corn bread, pumpkin <i>and</i> apple pie!! The group before gorging:</div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 343px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Mi0vMvry6GloR9WXcJsjfjBmB8Lj2lq8hKeaLDEiXR1pZSfHTY5qpJWbdXIe-KTT1VMeGDDJq1qCrvpNaImnLaNO_PYWfG5je8aRSkILyZH04avhwmdahwzcjN3FeELztp69YRm02TZV/s400/DSC06337.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411879482705260370" /></div><div>After the yumminess, some girlfriends and I decided, since it was officially Christmas month, it was now appropriate to cuddle up on two beds pushed together and watch <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0314331/">Love Actually</a>. We "aawweed" a lot and squealed. </div><div><br /></div><div>Funny thing: Friday morning, I was elatedly listening to Christmas music (de Puerto Rico, claro), when the call to prayer ricocheted through my open window, drowning out José González. I chuckled out loud at the slight clash of civilizations.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I met up with Lizz & Eric midday at the dorms, and we headed out on our touristy adventure. Our first stop was the cemetery of a Coptic church, a stone maze of Celtic-like crosses draped with Arabic calligraphy and flowers of mourning. We wondered through the tombs, trying to decipher inscriptions, appreciating the non-Muslim side of Alex we had come across. Islam is so prevalent in daily life here, that I sometimes forget there can be anything else like the saints prevalent in Coptic foundations. We were graciously welcomed into the exquisite church's sanctuary, where we admired the Coptic-style icons infused with more European style artwork. Truly beautiful:</div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMUUbL0jGr8fsOfk_tngua2xTSpJ1VLWhtP4C6EROTYoDpbsduVnbr3va-u3o82q_B1DTyiy8EF7XKAOxXhUQy_FYH57_-wg83Qzw2i51MHOt7f4yhaXfgSO1CyTtVEiFEMTaN5AiUf0j/s320/DSC06365.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411885868653113058" /></div><div>We then trammed westwards to explore the only Roman amphitheater in Egypt, as well as the baths and other excavations surrounding it. We ran into our dear friend Doctor Matta, who accompanied us on this goofy historical tour. Excavations are still being done on this site, which looks like a pile of rubble at the moment, but apparently underneath it are Muslim tombs, and some houses and schools. There wasn't a ton to see, but we made the most of our exploration, entering every nook and posing with sphinxes dredged from the Alexandrian harbor (there are possible plans to make an underwater museum of all the ruins there!) Check out more <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2031509&id=1238610154&l=2086e8e459">recent photos to narrate</a>, but here's ya girl:</div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqELWgfp7fzV_A-1G5jAR_k6Uv_I9oZcw5Z2qymvlO6p8LNN5EXiBp8wBkal0FK8IQifRHGs49RQtI-x_vlDBcjPH2pI_mItxDD8IJC5mCndW9mFm90dL7H78laBeRlt-_N3Exi5uhy6P/s400/DSC06404.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411887803856038290" /></div><div>I topped off my day by watching some awesome American & Egyptian boys play soccer. Lying in bed later that night, I was overwhelmed by pure euphoria. My base line here has always been happiness, so tangible and honest, and then it comes welling out of me after extraordinary days. I love my life here. Today, I used that energy to write 3 short essays for an application to a government-funded language program called <a href="http://www.clscholarship.org/index.html">CLS</a>. I <i>will </i>come back here next summer, in whatever capacity.</div><div><br /></div><div>Despite my infatuation with this place, I still get thrilling jitters every time I think of going home. I am looking forward to the simple pleasures: lazing around with la familia, fires in Goshen, bundling up and walking downtown Northampton, vegetables. You all better be missing me lots!</div><div><br /></div><div>حب</div><div>جميلة</div><div>Yamila</div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-26008796367371105332009-11-26T07:51:00.000-08:002009-11-29T06:58:46.840-08:00Aid al-Shukr عيد الشكر<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">كل سنة و انتو طيبين!! عيد سعيد من مصر يا حلوين</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Every year and may you all be well! Happy Thanksgiving from Egypt, my sweet ones. And Happy Aid al-Adha to any Muslims reading! Yesterday started the 3-day holiday celebrating Ibrahim's sacrifice of his son Ishmael (or Isaac) to God. The butcher shop down the street from my dorm has had a herd of sheep stinking up the block for the last week, and in the last couple days, most of them have been killed. Yesterday, I greeted a dumb-looking cow in the morning, and later that afternoon, I saw him get beheaded! On the sidewalk, no gloves, in the middle of a 5-million person city. I am all for being in touch with our food sources, but come on, can we have some hygienic sensitivity please? During Aid al-Adha, people with the means to do so should buy this meat to share with their neighbors and the poor. Everyone should wear new clothes and be with family and pray. Everything is closed, so Alex is uncharacteristically </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">haadi, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">calm. The dorms are also empty صمت في كل مكان silence everywhere.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">One thing I love about this experience is the fact that I am not merely a visitor to Egypt... I live here. That is not to say I am a resident, but I do more than see the sites, I see the culture and its people and their ways. I want to remember more than the epic monuments and landscapes I've seen; I want to recollect the butcher shop down the street, tram rides to go shopping in Ibrahamiyya, the morning walk to the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">kulia</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, cruising to techno in Karim's car, giggling with the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Masriaat</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> roommates, not understanding a word of my professors' lectures on Arab literary figures or Muslim ways of governance.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I live in the University of Alexandria dorms in the neighborhood of Shatby, which is pretty </span><a href="http://www.planetware.com/i/map/EGY/alexandria-map.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">central</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> to the city. My roommate is named Reham, and she like most of the other girls here, is from the "countryside", </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">al-reef</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, anywhere from 1-2 hours out of the city. I love all of the Egyptian girls very much, and they love me. They help us with Arabic homework, go out with us to movies and shopping, give us cultural advice, and have giggle fests with us. Of course, there are some levels on which we can't interact; I would never tell them about the details of my social life in America, and all the sex, drugs, and rock & roll it includes. A sample conversation with one of them, upon leaving the cinema one night:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Her</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: It's good we're leaving now, all the couples start coming.</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Me</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: What's wrong with that?</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Her</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: Well, they're not married.</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Me</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: Oh. That's weird. In America, dating like that is normal. I fell in love and started dating when I was 15, and 6 years later, I am with a different man who I also love.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*Short silence in which I fear she will either damn me to hell or try to convert me to Islam*</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Her</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: That's interesting. Okay.</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Me</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: Do you think less of me now?</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Her</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">: No, I just wouldn't live my life that way.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Okay! Good conversation: no war, slight clash of civilizations, and we're still friends! The rest of the world should follow our example. But truly, they know and accept that we aren't Muslim and so live our lives differently. I am often very frank with the girls, pushing their zones of comfort with sometimes inappropriate jokes and challenging their conservatism in religious discussions. They still love me. I've had some eye-opening discussions about Islam and spirituality, cultural divides, and even love. I have also giggled with them to the verge of tears. Leaving these girls will be one of the hardest things about returning to America. They are already making me promise to come back next summer, saying they'll be waiting.</span></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig2QE2tTviDSjBh1gxysWowUB30Ex6LGgSM5mhih7ADaedCok9JGOGOlU8qtdqghyphenhyphenImr7aWBbNEAZVWR7WQJcwcz1KN6xhxJUImNR6xEYib2B4Oaqvok5jeNta5Loy6vfh6CQ6DYxR9YKz/s400/DSC05871.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408455570860514050" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Those are my friends in the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Medina</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> (the dorms). Then there are Karim & Kholy. These boys are from the city itself, meaning they come from more money. They are Muslims, too, but more internally, as they drink and go to clubs and the like. حرام عليهم Haram upon them! They also hang out with us, Western females, whereas the Egyptian boys who live in the boys' dorms get awkward and nervous around us. Karim and Kholy and their friends all speak English pretty well, maybe went to private school, and generally know more about Western culture. I have become very close with both Karim & Kholy. My "two sets of friends" is very representative of how class is structured here in Egypt. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Weeks here are from Sunday to Wednesday, and the center (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">al-</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">merkez</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">) we take classes in on the Univ. Alex campus is a 10-minute walk from the dorms. All our professors are Arabs from Univ. Alex, so classes are... well... </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">different </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">from your American liberal arts private school education</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> Arabs like to lecture and not encourage student participation, leaving them sitting on their intellectual high horses. They don't like handing back corrected homework or getting student evaluations. Needless to say, this leaves many of us frustrated, but I have still managed to take something from my 5 classes. Also, I didn't come to Egypt to do homework, that is to say, the academic experiences comes second to the cultural/linguistic immersion one.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">1.) FusHa, also known as Modern Standard Arabic. Very proper and correct Arabic, used for televised and published news, the language of the Quran, and spoken among literary and academic geniuses. You will get laughed at if you try to speak this in the street. In that sense, seemingly useless. As is my FusHa professor! </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Rab yir-bereku,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> may God bless him, but that man's lack of a teaching ability could be the death of my love for this language. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">2.) Amiyya, colloquial, Masriyya. A light workload (sometimes too light), an important topic. We unlearn proper grammar and pick up street expressions. My teacher is fabulous, regularly taking us out to ice cream.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">3.) Islamic Politics. Very interesting and complex topic combining all the religious and social and political aspects of this society. I just wish the teacher would encourage discussion more. The readings are very challenging in Arabic, but it's good for building vocab.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">4.) Arabic Literature. We've read some good stuff, (the classics: Naguib Mahfouz, Mahmoud Darwish), and learned about some other figures. Same problem, in that he just lectures away, we don't analyze much. Check my friend's <a href="http://abual3lm.blogspot.com/">blog</a> for some Arabic poems eloquently translated into English.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">5.) Gender Studies. This is my one-on-one course, which I split 3 hours between 2 incredible professors. One of them is a liberal Muslim woman named Shadia, the other a liberal Coptic Christian woman named Hiba. This has been the best academic part of the program. Both women have shared some very interesting (and challenging!) commentary on women's issues in the region, in the form of novels, articles, movies, and conversations. My friend Veronica (the other student) and I have watched a couple movies with Shadia, a great one being </span><a href="http://www.wmm.com/filmCatalog/pages/c452.shtml"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Four Women of Egypt</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, another about the lives of female servants in Tunisia.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A couple days ago, Hiba took Veronica and I to a Coptic monastery outside of Alex. It was an incredibly calming and peaceful, a beautifully manicured enclosure set in the desert against the ocean shore. The nuns welcomed us like sisters and fed us like orphans. We toured the compound, and then our professor gave us a little lecture on Copts, particularly the life in the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">dir</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, or the monastery. They pray, do their daily duties, and translate religious texts into various languages. We learned about the different celebrated saints, and various founders of the nunnery life, from Saint Mercurius to Saint Antonius. It was a spiritually rich experience, made all the more so by my professor's deep faith, visible in the way she spoke of the miracle around her. On our way back to Alex, between singing Christmas carols in a variety of languages, I couldn't help but be critical. If a God from an institutionalized religion finds me and leads me down that sort of path, I need to be part of a religion that gives back God's bounty to those who aren't as lucky. Service will always be part of my life, and so it was hard to understand these women enclosing themselves in a monastery to pray. Kislaya reminded me that these people "indisputably generate positive energy that is a catalyst for change and benefits us all, even without our awareness." I guess I will have to be happy with that, and let each of God's children find their own way.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What else are my days made up of? Sometimes tourism: tombs, fortresses, today, the Alexandria Museum. Sometimes just hanging out at friends' houses, just like in the states (well, less alcohol.) Last night we celebrated Aid at my friend Khalid's house, a nice group of people, playing Dominos and Scrabble (in Arabic.) A couple days ago, the director's father gave an interesting lecture on translating the Quran (not an easy task), and then we all went out to dinner على حساب البرنامج on the program's bill! A few nights ago Karim and I went out to a club for its salsa night! Invariably, outings revolve around food, which is fine with me, as I think I could eat </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">kufta</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> (spiced meat), </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">tahina</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, and stuffed pigeon (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">hemmem mehshee</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">) forever.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Do you see why my heart breaks a little bit when I think about leaving this place? The above are all the reasons I have to come back as soon as I can. Nonetheless, I know I will be happy when I return home, because I find happiness wherever I am in life. Please eat lots of leftovers for me (particularly cranberry sauce), as I have yet to have a legitimate Turkey Day meal; a friend and I made chicken, green beans and mashed potatoes. I gave thanks for having the means to experience Egypt (¡Gracias, Mami & Papi!) And I will be so thankful, mutashukra (متشكرة) when I come back home to all your loving!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Besos y abrazos,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Yamila جميلة</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">PS- A normal evening along the Corniche. AlhamduLillah! </span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivClPt7eSAFoCxN5kfiRqveFsMJ8KlnIsTFmuAxROsvPUAM9dywkMaOg0XeOt4-PxVKj-GwAj9RqpuCt4EPDiGFI3FLhAwXoJ61mFYnAwcRIrEc71-hOTZFEMNIP0NztV-0zlat7J-LXY2/s400/DSC05779.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409095772437592322" />Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-37683974593438207982009-11-22T14:14:00.000-08:002009-11-23T14:33:07.284-08:00Moon 14<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ازيكوا يا حلوين؟ كله تمام هنة في مصر، بس محتاجة استراحة من المذاكرة</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Screw reading about the collective religious consciousness in Egypt! Salaam min Masr, the mother of the world! How are the spacious skies and amber waves of grain over in Amreeka? I miss it. My first meal when I get back? French toast drenched in maple syrup, BACON, a fresh fruit salad, and Puerto Rican coffee. By the way, for any who were fearing, I have decided not to stay the whole year here, although this was a distinct possibility, and the decision was a hard one, as the thought of leaving Egypt tugs at my heart. I dream to come back this very summer, equipped with a senior thesis and hopefully some grant money.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Some pictures & thoughts from our latest trip to Upper Egypt (really Southern Egypt, reached by an 18-hour train ride through increasingly drier and hotter weather):</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"On the River Nile. The sun just descended behind the sandy rock plateaus to the west. The Egyptians' party felucca with its claps and drumbeats reverberates across the still water. Pink and golden hues sweetly grace the surface, quickly disappearing into deep blues, and soon, darkness. My comrades play Monopoly behind me, cards in the nearby boats. My feet are draped over the edge of the boat. We stop for dinner on the shore."</span></span></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRlK3OPOPdl8T-6Uh9Slm19QTzX0JTw730AVFe4niRoCe4gQcTi3qxHio9SGncBG8X0QgQVDy3QbXBUvUGMhZE9iqrSvzwqYG7qLLDjcNWWP2Y72PJP18UJFqQzSXP-aK9mNCEZMCB52W/s320/DSC06036.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407059878496862434" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So went my 2 days on a felucca cruising northward on the bounteous Nile! Days were packed with nothingness, some Dominos and some epiphanies, and nights with rounds of Mafia and conversations on the stern of our felucca. One word to sum it up: </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Salaam</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">. I wrote a lot, so here were 3 things I've learned about myself this semester so far:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">1.) I'm adaptable to new places and their people.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">2.) I believe in God and have a deeper spirituality than I thought.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">3,) People are drawn to me for my positive energy, openness, realness and humor.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The two big cities in Upper Egypt are Aswan and Luxor. We hit up Aswan first, where we ate stuffed pigeon, perused its great </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">sou'</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> (market) and I learned to dominate at Dominos. I liked that Aswan is not stereotypical Egypt. Nubians and their rich history are littered across Aswan, with some great museums & ruins, as well as a little village plopped on an island in the river center. Although these distinct people contributed pharaonic greatness to Egypt, their villages were the first to go when Lake Nasser was created; as you can see, their past and present are sometimes at odds with modern Egypt. I also visited my first Coptic church here, opening my eyes to the 10% of Egyptians who are not Muslims. I was quickly reminded of my deepening respect for religion as I sat in peace in the balcony overlooking mass, the strange iconic faces painted on the walls and the Arabic chanting sending me into a time warp.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A 4-hour drive south of Aswan, maybe some 15 miles from the Sudanese border, is Abu Simbel in all its greatness. You may recognize what I mean:</span></span></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ezTVkcZHg-fTz51uVuq0NnI1dO8pvbu2usYnV6bbzch1sGbZ5mwWEPUWHiDFjp2QXjvMZbDigFjhqjxAMrSw1d_ajbKTBK66_lCTVV20L7fuoOsBLG5QYU3UpHEHmQfDwB-hTZEQ_lXc/s320/DSC05892.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407063804904487202" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ramses II knew how to build himself a temple, that's for shit sure. Typical of any egotistical male ruler, he was honoring his own glory in battles and trying to intimidate enemies. The 4 figures outside are all Ramses himself, with his wife and children at his feet. The inside of the temple is carved full of ornate depictions of offerings to gods like Osiris, god of the underworld, and Amun, one of the era's main divinities. Next to Ramses' temple was his wife's, Nefertari, also dedicated to the goddess Hathor, figure of fertility and life. In the 60's, as the Aswan High Dam was being built, it became clear Abu Simbel would drown. So began the UNESCO-led engineering feat of man to move this relic to safer ground. Between 1964-1968, it was cut into ginormous pieces, and indeed, saved by moving it to higher ground, where it now sits on the edge of man-made Lake Nasser. Check here for more photos, but honestly, go see it yourself:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span style="display: block; "><a href="mailto:?body=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Falbum.php%3Faid%3D2030037%26id%3D1238610154%26l%3D8a38930869&subject=%D8%A7%D8%B3%D9%88%D8%A7%D9%86%20%D9%88%20%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%A7%D9%82%D8%B5%D8%B1" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">http://www.facebook</span></span></span></a><a href="mailto:?body=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Falbum.php%3Faid%3D2030037%26id%3D1238610154%26l%3D8a38930869&subject=%D8%A7%D8%B3%D9%88%D8%A7%D9%86%20%D9%88%20%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%A7%D9%82%D8%B5%D8%B1" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.com/album.php?aid=2030037&id=1238610154&l=8a38930869</span></span></span></a></span><span style="text-align: center; display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Wanna hear some more ancient history? I heard my favorite story as we visited the Philae, an island south of Abu Simbel on which lies the Temple of Isis. Isis is my girl. She was married to her brother Osiris (don't judge), and they ruled the world happily & justly together (aaww), but their brother Seth was jealous, so he killed Osiris and chopped him into little pieces. Isis was a badass woman, so despite her grief, she used her power to locate his body parts and revive him long enough for them to make a child together. Osiris become the god of the underworld, and so was born Horus, whose sole purpose was to avenge his father. He spent his life training to fight Uncle Seth, which he eventually did, but he wouldn't have won had it not been for Big Mama Isis. Horus is represented by the falcon, and was later seen as a symbol of kingliness by pharaohs.</span></span></span><span style="text-align: center; display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">After Aswan came the feluccas, which led us (slowly) northward to Luxor. Best part of Luxor (besides using a real bathroom and not the Nile shore)? Bikes & Karnak. One day, about half the group and I rented squeaking break-less bikes, crossed the Nile to the West Bank, and set out. We saw the Valley of the Kings, where over 63 kings and their families built ostentatious and glorious tombs for themselves. We saw Hetshepsut's Temple, a great queen who gave real meaning to "Girl Power". We did this all by bike under the roaring desert heat, but it was well worth it, especially after collapsing in a family's shaded backyard for some traditional Egyptian food. </span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HL4sajD8rtPelauKyY3_Z5h9ldsJ6r5ozFD7PJDZ_CajdK67gKaq3giy2yNEGgqPNFJFIUV5shtQWW5KaFZohBFkdNMv1gBhyAf8pilzw_cr4S8Dks-ggU-74U5ewK3upUng6oFKqwuB/s320/DSC06171.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407071924080729986" /></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">After rejuvenation, we hit up the Karnak Temple. EPIC. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ya Allahi</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">! The largest ancient religious site in the world, Karnak was added to by many a ruler honoring many a god, and this is visible by its sheer size. I tried to soak up everything I could. I will always remember standing in the Hypostyle Hall, dwarfed by 134 hieroglyphic-ed pillars representing a papyrus forest. I lost myself to time as the sun set on this spiritual fortress.</span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fukdWYEBrf5DMqgPdlN7sDe6jSpqNvzXaJ2IGspQgqfLa6XyQhDUoxL9Y8duULCmUSj3L4WGTRz79nUg9y4CL23qU8VRF9AFDaUfHG8oVJoqqpgWyN8Tg-04rJnD9c3K8pa8RgrOGUeX/s320/DSC06182.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407071935196139250" /></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Before we return to modern Egypt up north, some favorites:</span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">1.) Phallic symbols at every </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">m3bed</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> (temple) we went to. I had a running tally. </span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">2.) Dinosaur faces/sounds with Elley. Friends in general.</span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">3.) Eating a McFlurry while touring Luxor's temple (are you seeing a temple theme here?!)</span></span></span><span style="text-align: center; display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Oh, but the adventure did not end! </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Yullah</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">! About 15 of us climbed back on the train for another 10 hours. This is the part of the story where I discover the "Twilight" series, leading me to sorely desire a vampire habibi... alas. Anyway, this train took us to Cairo, where we were met by 10 of the Egyptian boys from Alex. We then headed to a Mohammad Mounir/Chab Khaled concert, an Egyptian & Algerian singer who got together to celebrate the World Cup qualifier match (which ended quite badly.) Surrounded by our army of <i>Masreen Gemideen</i> (strong Egyptian men), we amusedly watched thousands of Egyptians smoke hashish, wave flags, and chant along to the music!</span></span></span><span style="text-align: center; display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Needless to say, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Iskandriyya</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> welcomed me with open arms as our bus pulled in to the Mediterranean's shoulder at 6am the next morning. And here I am, still sorting through Egyptian paradoxes, still loving Egyptian warmth, still living large. I love this city's calm yet confident energy. A few days ago I went tomb raiding with my Egyptian friend Kholy, but I'm no Angelina, as I fell into 2 feet of tomb water. This evening, I watched an Egyptian movie at one of my professor's house. This week begins <i>Aid al-Adha</i>, celebrating Ibrahim's sacrifice of Ismael to God. Many sheeps will be slaughtered (a sight I have grown surprisingly accustomed to walking by), and everyone will be with family. All the program's students are traveling the region, but I will use the opportunity to soak up Alex, and hopefully will find some Americans, a turkey, and ideally some cranberry sauce, to share <i>Aid el-Shukr</i> (Holiday of Thanks) with. </span></span></span><span style="text-align: center; display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I will be thankful for all of you next time I see God in the sunset over the sea. I can't wait to see you.</span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">جميلة</span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Gamila</span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">PS- What does Moon 14 mean? Sounds better in Arabic: " 'Amr arba3t-a3shr"... it means you are as sweet and wonderful as the moon is 14 days into the month... when it is full! I love this language...</span></span></span><span style="display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">PPS- A happy picture of some friends on a felucca:</span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); display: block; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM9pxfW1p7-zMnksSQ0Xu3e8Wcm37jMGDv2ntG4nIb4cxv5fdHTosYJkttv_n8kfEKNCq-d1TOeSCdkCCeIEAdsJmMePeAzVUy4QfIhzamnpVoUYoy6tXO5h7I1aJ6QcrWSye1OGDyEFvG/s400/14656_1188866162104_1241820173_30640550_5692143_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407076806948372370" /></span></span></span></span></div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8968081115806583797.post-83985210148719963322009-11-14T13:09:00.000-08:002009-11-14T23:49:00.752-08:00MASR!<div style="text-align: left;">Ooohhhhh Maasssrrraauuuwwwwiiiii!!! Salaam min Masr, kulne mabsooteen owee hina! Masr just impossibly won a qualifier match against Algeria to get them that much closer to going to the World Cup. I just got back from watching the match in an energy-packed coffeehouse, and will do the same for the final match between them on Wednesday. I returned to my dorm to find 30 Masreaat celebrating with ululations and ruckus dancing and screaming in the common room. There are red, white and black flags streaming from every car, horns and hollers filling the streets, facepaint, and excited Egyptians everywhere. We are all Egyptians today!</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 317px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp58V8_pUnK2qok5FroXszlLEiqIVR3m14BJhP6fS2Awu_iP9XvNLNSmpPbXP8NOQPhHt2U04Sy95zFHYBJYan4rHgr7gMPaVSHNuS7kT57mX2RvPHkMK3fDHywN_VREEESjhGTFx8sPjs/s320/DSC06276.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404076475832802178" /><div>I am now lying in my bed attempting to recover, but I think I'm coming down with a cold. I thought I'd use the lazy opportunity to inform you all of what it means to be a woman here. This has been one of the foremost topics on my mind since I arrived, since it is a challenge I face every day, and because my one-on-one course is about Gender Studies. It has been the ultimate example of mixing my personal experiences with an intellectual angle. Here goes, as I try to consolidate my emotions, religion, society, economic factors and history into a meaningful explanation.</div><div><br /></div><div>On a day to day basis, life has become much easier to deal with as a female here. At the beginning, I couldn't stand the stares I got from every Egyptian. This includes women, which was even more infuriating, as I expected some solidarity, but as a Western woman showing skin and hair, I am a walking sin. I quickly learned that wearing skirts above the ankle would attract more stares, adjusted my clothing a bit, and learned to take it. I can't go into certain cafes, and at a place like the concert I went to in Cairo a couple nights ago, I am often one of the few females. I have a good street face: I don't look at anyone, just straight ahead with a tough "don't mess with this Gringa" look. It doesn't bother me as much anymore, although I of course find some men to be hypocritical dogs who deserve to be punched.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some people back home were surprised when I told them virtually every woman is covered here, as they remembered traveling the region and not seeing as much higab before. This is due to a greater Islamization of society occurring after the 1967 war with Israel, when high aspirations of Arab nationalism came tumbling down. Nasser had failed and Jerusalem was lost. Why? Their answer was because they had been bad Muslims, straying too far toward Western immorality. Radio programs, books and pamphlets with Islamic encouragement started to be published, and the higab and the beard became more common in the streets. </div><div><br /></div><div>Why do women even wear the higab, or the niqab (the one with only an eye slit)? Ah, the never-answered question. Here is my fuzzy comprehension. Now, I have not read the Quran Kareem, but I have been told it does not explicitly demand a woman cover her head; it suggests she cover up in vague language. My clearest understanding of the phenomenon comes from an intense conversation about religion with one of the Egyptian girls (a Muslim, I escaped conversion though) here in the dorms (in Arabic, thank you very much.) She explained to me how alcohol is forbidden in Islam because it clouds a believer's mind, makes them forget the righteous path and their faith in Allah. Sexual temptation does the same thing, and seeing a woman's hair, body, or even face, tempts men. So at this point you are all thinking what I am: why is it a woman's responsibility to reinforce a man's faith?! <i>Mish 3adl</i>, not fair, but it's all I have to offer.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is not to say that women have no presence or role in this society! It is just less than we are used to back West. It also depends on class, as it would anywhere. More well-off Egyptians tend to be more liberal, practicing Islam less or more inwardly. On the other hand, if an Egyptian girl comes from a poor family, she will be married as soon as possible to relieve the burden to her father, exemplifying the cycle from uneducated daughter to housewife. And that is not to diminish the role of mother or wife, as many of you admirable women know are some of the hardest jobs in the world. But the idea that a woman is only good for those roles is the danger in this society. Thankfully, I know many impressive women here: the Egyptian girls I live with are getting educated, many of them to be nurses and doctors in this country's deplorable health system. My professors are powerhouses who are nurturing change and growth. These women don't need to be saved from the higab, or from the harassment on the streets, nor do they want to be. They make their choices because they love Islam, or Egypt, or both. If they create their own paths, I respect them.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have learned about some outstanding Egyptian women in my course, which is taught by 2 similarly impressive doctors, both of whom I deeply admire. In terms of Masr's history, in the times of British influence and during the rule of Mohammed Ali and Saad Zaghloul (first couple decades of 20th century), Hedy Showrii founded the first female union in Egypt and the Middle East, helped run a female committee on the Wafd party (around before Nasser), and wrote about and for women. Nebwiyya Musy was the first woman to get her high school diploma in Egypt, and went on to found a very successful school for girls and publish curricula for the Ministry of Education, along with other influential writing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Want to know a little more? The following 2 links are to recent goings-on in terms of harassment and popular Islamic culture here in Egypt:</div><div>http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/7514567.stm</div><div>http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/8290606.stm</div><div><br /></div><div>This article is about Muslim women speaking for themselves, rather than asking the West to:</div><div>http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_id=1&categ_id=5&article_id=107315</div><div><br /></div><div>This is a longer article that was in the NYT Magazine over the summer detailing how women are the world's solution to its problems:</div><div>http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/23/magazine/23Women-t.html?_r=1</div><div><br /></div><div>I hope this has shed some light on the woman's role here in Egyptian society. It is a constant struggle full of paradoxes! It is often hard to wrap my head around my emotional and intellectual reactions, but I know I am both fascinated and moved, confused and frustrated. I want to return to Egypt this summer and do thesis research on women here, with the help of my 2 professors here, InShaAllah. </div><div><br /></div><div>Chew on that! Lighter blog entry about Upper Egypt soon to come, my <i>heloweens</i> (sweet ones).</div><div><br /></div><div>مصر!</div><div><br /></div><div>جميلة</div>Yamila جميلةhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10856023141880809114noreply@blogger.com0