Stagnant Water, Stagnant Politics

Every morning after I exit the metro station at Tahrir Square, I pass a barefoot woman selling menadil, glance out towards the Egyptian museum in search of armored vehicles or protesters, and begin to hold my breath. As I walk past the wall adorned with ever changing revolution slogans, I don’t dare inhale. About three weeks ago, a mysteriously pungent puddle appeared alongside the crumbling sidewalk that leads to the gate of the AUC downtown campus. Somehow, despite Cairo’s desert climate, the tenacious cesspool refuses to evaporate. Its size and shape are constantly changing, and it is now home to some frightfully smelly bacteria, a pair of old shoes, and a wide variety of unrecognizable debris.

As I scurry past the stagnant water, balancing on the curb so as to avoid plunging into the slime or the adjacent dirty sand, it is hard not to be discouraged. It’s not just that I’m bothered by the lack of government services or nonexistent infrastructure for waste removal. Nor am I simply distressed by the widespread disrespect of public space that stems from decades of living under a dictatorship, fostering the ideology that “It’s not our sidewalk, it’s Mubarak’s.” Instead, the cesspool serves as a nagging reminder of the frightening stagnation in post-revolution Egypt— and I’m not just talking about the water.    

When Muslims and Christians took to the streets in January calling for unity and democratic change under the slogan “One Hand,” it seemed that sectarian strife might be surmountable. Similarly, when Mubarak stepped down, and the army stood alongside the people, there was true hope that Egyptians could break the bonds of dictatorial rule. Though true progress towards democracy has been frustrating elusive in the shadow of revolutionary fervor, until a few days ago I really thought that positive political developments were on the horizon. Maybe I was just getting too caught up in the Insha’ allah Bukra Mumkin (IBM) or “ God Willing Maybe Tomorrow” attitude. But even after the crackdown on the sit-in this summer, or the storming of the Israeli embassy that I witnessed from my balcony last month, I was still cautiously hopeful.

On October 9^th, my optimism was shaken. Just a few hours after returning from Tahrir Square, I read Twitter accounts and watched news coverage of the clashes between Coptic Christian protesters and the military police that erupted outside the Maspiro state media building.  The ensuing violence left some 25 protesters dead as civilians were hit by live gunfire and crushed under heavy military vehicles. Even more disturbingly, the state media produced a live account of the events that was reminiscent of the Mubarak era and depicted the protesters as a Christian mob that had assaulted the army. Failing to mention civilian deaths and falsely reporting that the US had offered to send troops to protect Christians, rumors spread like wildfire. Hearing that Christians were attacking the largely Muslim army “which has loyally stood by the revolution,” a group of Muslims took to the streets and a frighteningly sectarian skirmish followed. I even heard one account (bear in mind this is from a Christian professor) that a Muslim man wielding a sword chopped a Christian protesters head in half during the fighting.

As the largest outbreak of violence since the days of the revolution, the events of October 9^th are very discouraging. They highlight the virulent persistence of sectarian tensions and  demonstrate that the Supreme Council of Armed Forces (SCAF) has no intention of giving up power any time soon and will take drastic measures to maintain it. More ominously, the eruption of violence provides SCAF with a perfect excuse to extend emergency laws and impose other dictatorial restrictions on the Egyptian people. Sure the civilian cabinet and generals publically apologized and the state media admitted fault, but I find it hard to believe that such a “band aid” can heal the gaping wounds in Egyptian society and politics.

Bizarrely, the past few days have been eerily quiet. No one has gathered in Tahrir Square, and I haven’t seen any military police in the area. I’m sure Friday will bring a new wave of protesters as happens most weekends, but I have been very surprised by the absence of a visible reaction to the violence. Are Christians just laying low? Is the army trying to save face?

As always the future is unclear, and walking by the cesspool each morning makes it appear particularly bleak. While I’m not trying to argue that the events of October 9^th marked the death knell of Egyptian democratization, they clearly underscore the obstacles that citizens face today. Though I am confident that the stagnant water on the downtown sidewalk will eventually dissipate, overcoming political and economic stagnation is a much more ominous task. The revolutionary storm that rained down on Egypt has left quite the pernicious puddle in its wake. 

Rosh Hashanah Cario Style

Intrigued by the prospect of attending a Rosh Hashanah service in Cairo, last Wednesday I boarded a bus with a few other CASA students and the last few remaining members of Cairo’s Jewish community and headed off to a temple in Maadi. Today, Cairo’s Jewish population consists of only a handful of elderly widows. Sitting on the bus listening to these women “kvetch” about the long walk to the bus stop and praise their children’s accomplishments in Egyptian dialect, it became clear that Jewish grandmothers—whether from Long Island or Cairo— have a lot in common.

 We quickly struck up a conversation with Goldina, a woman in her late sixties of Ukranian, Russian, and Iraqi Jewish descent who grew up speaking French at home and attending English school in Cairo. She told us of the virulent anti-Semitism and dramatic transformation of the lives of Jews in Egypt following the Arab defeat in the 1967 war as most of Egypt’s Jews left for Israel, Europe, or the US. She explained that her mother had polio and had been unable to move so Goldina hadn’t wanted to leave her. While she still wants to leave Egypt today, she told us that she could never leave her three dogs. Interestingly, she has no desire to go to Israel where she feels that the security situation means that no one can truly “live” or “have a life.” Chatting with Goldina about everything from recipes to her favorite youtube videos, the bus ride flew by.

Arriving at the temple in Maadi, we passed a huge crowd of police officers in military uniform. While we thought they were providing security for the service—especially in light of the recent attack on the Israeli embassy—we later learned that they were simply striking for higher wages. As we entered the temple (after showing our passports) we walked into a small crowd of expats that included the American and Austrian ambassadors to Egypt.

Apparently the Israeli ambassador usually leads the service, but because of the recent attack on the embassy he was unable to attend. Realizing that there was no one available to perform the service, a few CASA students who read Hebrew got up with their prayer books and led a rather impromptu abridged Rosh Hashanah service that reminded me of a combination of Arabic class and a bar-Mitzvah. I tried to follow along in an English copy that was actually a 1941 British army Jewish prayer book that included “the prayer to go into battle” and “the prayer for going abroad” in addition to the regular holiday prayers. While it was slightly awkward as an Egyptian man kept coming by to tell the CASA boys to read/sing louder, the American ambassador seemed quite taken with them as she admired them over her pink reading glasses. She actually invited my friend Andrew to eat dinner at her table after the service and gave him her contact information on a napkin!

The service was followed by apples and honey and a delicious pot luck style meal at tables set up in the courtyard outside the temple. Overall, a very sweet—if not bizarre— start to the new year!   

Other happenings:

1)      I started tutoring at St. Andrews Refugee services this week and met some really interesting South Sudanese and Eritrean refugees

2)      Celebrated my 22^nd birthday with a CASA potluck, my friend’s housewarming party at an amazing 2 story apartment that has wrap around balconies overlooking the Nile and  a delicious trip to Lucille’s (an American diner style restaurant)

3)      I’m planning on going to an AUC trip to the North coast next weekend for the long weekend (October 6^th is Armed Forces Day celebrating Egypt’s 1973 “victory”) so that should be fun!