You cannot sleep without dreaming; you must dream so vivaciously and fiercely that it becomes your waking life

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 Tahrir on July 8th.  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 bultagiya (government/army-hired thugs) here!

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 Allahu Akbar 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. 

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.

I was most struck by the importance of this process 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 ginea to pocket - but it is just as much about this rich undertaking they call democracy, 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.

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.

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. 

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, grandfathers 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 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 danger - 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.

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.

The Revolution Will Be Graffitied/Hummed/Acted

Artistic 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.

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.

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. 

The Revolution Artists Union 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.  In the streets of my country, the voice of freedom is calling...

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.

Graffiti has become a common sight on just about every block, chronicling the revolution and its sentiments.
Tear-gas poems, by Kareem Abdul Salam.
A tribute to all the literary artists of the Arab Spring, courtesy of Words Without Borders.
Tahrir Monologues, a performance of revolutionary testimonies.

Tomorrow is July 8th, 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 tell the military and the still criminal system that the Egyptian people are still in the midst of their revolution, 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.

جميلة

Update on Tahrir Clashes

Sabah al-eshtebaakaat! Good morning of the clashes!

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 where things stand as of this morning, with clouds of tear gas billowing around Tahrir as the rest of Cairo goes on its daily hustle & bustle.

I gathered some of this from my friend Chris, who bravely/foolishly went to Tahrir this morning, as well as Twitter (#Tahrir) 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.

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 reasons behind them: 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 July 8th in Tahrir and around the country and keep the pressure on SCAF, politicians from the old system, and nascent political representatives, too.

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!

Keep Egypt in your thoughts,

جميلة

Tahrir Round 2

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 protests erupted at these sites 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 Tweeters and live feeds 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...

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 tonight's clashes.

Thoughts & hearts with Egypt!!

Yamila

Spirit of the Revolution

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 zahma wa dawsha (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.

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.

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; this article 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.

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 Egyptians, 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.

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 25th 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.

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, sabr, 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.

In other news, my istikshaaf (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 Wust al-Balad (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 Mohammad Ali’s citadel, whose Ottoman style minarets dominate the city’s skyline, where some CASA fellows and I enjoyed an outdoor concert.  Check out this video of Nassir Shamm, the famous Iraqi ‘oud player 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!

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!!

جميلة

PS - Some photos!!

First Words from Egypt

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.

“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.”

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.

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.

I have started classes with CASA, 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.

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:

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 25th 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!

2.) Yes, the revolution will be tweeted/blogged/Facebooked, but the forces of the internet were not and are not causal 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 telecommunications shutdown that prevented the use of Facebook, Twitter, etc.  Many of the protestors instead tuned into Al Jazeera 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.

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 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 6th movement and called for labor 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.

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. 

Some of the issues Egyptians are concerned with are:

1.) A-Dastour awlan, ow al-entekhabat?  The Constitution first, or elections?  In a referendum on March 19th, 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, The Arabist’s, post about this issue.

2.) The Egyptian army has long been extolled as “being one with the people”, and its actions reflected that during the January 25th 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.

3.) Trying Mubarak 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, and 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 this article by a Middlebury student who spent time in Syria's jails.

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 Hossam Hamalawy, long an activist in Egypt.  Hossam’s blog is Arabawy, 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 Egyptian Chronicles, very detailed and specific, but enlightening.  This NYT Magazine piece is stellar.

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!

Besos pa' todos,

Yamila جميلة