Sunday, February 27, 2011

Arabian Nights

Last night I volunteered at a charity event in Portland's glitzy Pearl District neighborhood. It was an annual fundraiser and the organizers aimed to please. The tables were set, the caterers were matching, and the theme was... in poor taste. For the record, the charity most likely picked the theme for the evening upwards of a year ago. Unfortunately however, "Arabian Nights" seemed to be both disconnected and insensitive. This was not a commonly shared opinion, honestly I seemed to be the only one to notice. After I got over the irony of flying home from Egypt only to find myself at an event playing Amr Diab's greatest hits, the tragedy of it all began to sink in. Here during this Arabian night, guests would be invited to shower themselves in festive jewelry, take a risk and get a henna tattoo, and try their luck at wine ring toss (my event) before enjoying their Lebanese meal and dinner entertainment. A good time was surely to be had by all. How many of Portland's glitterati crowd asked themselves if the same was true for the real Arabian night? Will the Arab world sleep soundly? Or will they wake up to more violence, uncertainty, and injustice?
The situation varies across the region. Mass protests continue in Yemen and Bahrain. On a smaller scale, protesters also take to the street in Jordan and Saudi Arabia. In Egypt, though protests continue, the people have begun to dig in to start the real work of implementing lasting change. Egypt was on my mind last night. A friend of mine wrote about how even though the revolution accomplished an admirable feat of ousting dictator Mubarak, the real change so desperately desired by Egypt was in no way guaranteed and was perhaps even in jeopardy of slipping away. If Egypt was on my mind, Libya was on my heart. While the champagne flowed and bids were placed as casually as greetings were offered, I thought about Libya's Arabian night. Some parts of the country rejoiced after taking control from the government, but the violence and oppression continues. Qaddafi continues to kill his own people. The Libyan people are literally dying for their rights, and here we are discussing the pros and cons of the 2009 Pinot Noir.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Dear Students

Dear Students,

I will not be returning as your teacher for the second semester. I think we can all agree teaching is not my calling. That said, I was very happy to have you all as my students. Your personalities and energy kept my day interesting. One of the main differences between school in Egypt and school in the States is that in Egypt, students want to relate to their teachers as they would a friend. This took some getting used to but in the end I really enjoyed it. It was a pleasure to get to know you all and I hope that we can stay in touch. If I could give you one last assignment it would be to write to me and tell me your thoughts on the revolution. I would love to hear your reactions and your predictions for the future of your country. So please write, tell me what you think!

As you continue your studies and then move on to careers, I hope you'll keep the following in mind:
1. Things are more likely to go wrong when you're in a hurry. This is something a teacher of mine told me in high school and I'm sure glad he did. For example, if you're running late for your first day of work, watch out, because this is probably when you'll lock your keys in your car.
2. Machines can tell when you're trying to do something important. You've already seen this to be true. Your printer works until you actually need to print out an assignment that is due. Keep this in mind. It helps to actually tell the machine that you know their trick and not to worry because you are not actually in a hurry.
3. Think for yourself. I'm only slightly farther down the road than you but what I am learning now is that we all see the world differently - and this is okay. At the end of the day, your thoughts make up who you are. It is okay to disagree with what you hear in class or even what your friends say. Finding out what you truly believe in and then communicating that clearly is what education is all about. Surprise: there is no right answer (except on my quizzes.)
4. Education is not just a check in the box. Please, please don't be afraid to make mistakes or ask questions. Training your mind to think critically is a dynamic, fluid process. Education is not just something that happens if you are physically present in school for 12 years. It is something you work at and develop according to your own style and interests.
5. Live deliberately. This one you've heard before, but it's true. Our time on Earth is short and I believe much better spent living a life thinking and acting with intention. As you have just witnessed, you can do whatever you want - the world is yours for the taking. So it's time to start deciding what kind of person you want to be, what kind of work you want to do, and start making your place in the world.

I hope this helps. Please don't take my departure personally. If anything you guys had me double guessing my decision. I hope to get emails from all of you soon telling me your thoughts about the new Egypt. Also, please contact me if you're ever in need of college recommendations, etc. or just some general advice or guidance.

You guys are the best.

Much love,

Miss Erica

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

100% Organic

There is one distinct symbol of wealth here in America. It has nothing to do with Lexus, Mercedes, or Porsche cars, luxury hotels or larger than life TV's. This symbol is much less flashy, but I assure you, equally telling: the American health food store. Rows upon rows of organic, vegan, carbon-neutral treats ooze wealth like hot wax down a surrendering candle. The truth is customers (and admittedly, I am one of them) opt to forgo basic goods in exchange for more expensive, trendier versions of the same products. There is no purer demonstration of luxury than having the option of paying more for what many in the world struggle to buy even at the most basic levels. Before the latest Egyptian protests (influenced in part by poverty and rising food prices) the largest protests in Egypt took place when the government tried to cancel the bread subsidies. Though sometimes dreadlocks-clad and hemp-adorned, I urge you to appreciate the next time you stop by your local health food co-op. The good fortune of finding yourself there can be overwhelming.

A revolution for the rest of us

My mom told me a funny story today. I found it endearing but more than that it finally made me notice what I had been sensing for a while. There was something about the Egyptian revolution that always struck me as unusual. Bear with me, there is more nuance than that. Even as the storm clouds of change were forming, and the wind of democracy was only a slight breeze, my American family and friends all told me how closely they were following the news. Then, as events progressed, and even during the internet/cell phone black out, there was a sense that the world was watching - and watching with a fervor not customarily granted to foreign affairs. "Tahrir Square" became a household name. Suddenly everyone knew all the Egyptian players and their potential next moves. I was surprised. I was expecting to experience the phenomenon of being wrapped up in a dramatic event abroad only to have it mentioned briefly below the fold back home. The opposite was true. After my return from Egypt I found that my friends knew as much about the revolution as I did, including all the Cairene street names.
My mom attended her Toastmaster's meeting this morning. She told me a man from Buffalo, New York gave a speech documenting the 18 days in Tahrir. He showed newspaper clippings and timelines. He was not Egyptian. I had to ask myself, why was this news story particularly gripping? Americans are notorious for not following events in other countries, our attention span when it comes to news cycles rivals that of a dachshund puppy, so how in the most over-stimulated of times did Tahrir Square capture the attention of the average citizen for over three weeks? The answer is perhaps more obvious than the question. As described by experts and bystanders the world over, this revolution was secular, peaceful, and justified. These were everyday citizens coming together to say we don't like the status quo. Now any parallels drawn would require several caveats, but I would hint that I know very few Americans who would say they are pleased with the way things are going here. America was glued to the TV set for more than just the foreign policy significance. Maybe we finally wanted to see something start heading in the right direction for a change. Maybe we all felt we needed this.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Peddling my Wares

After much thought I have decided not to return to Egypt. This fact has taken some getting used to. When I open my eyes in the morning I expect to see dusty sun-covered minarets, street vendors, and traffic. Instead these days I'm greeted by views of evergreens, frost, and most notably, sidewalks. Perhaps inspired by the revolution, I have decided to embrace this next phase of my life and move forward with a healthy mix of confidence and desperation. In other words, I need a job. Admittedly, Portland is notorious for lacking jobs - especially those in my field - but I just witnessed a dictator resign, anything is possible.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Encore

Willamette Week also published some photos taken at the protests. Please note the second two photos were taken by me but the rest were taken by my friend Taylor.

http://www.wweek.com/portland/blog-26438-more_photos_from_egypt.html

Monday, February 7, 2011

Willamette Week

Published today on www.wweek.com : http://www.wweek.com/portland/blog-26425-one_portlanders_eyewitness_report_from_egypt.html

Out of Africa

A friend of mine remarked to me that though everyone claims it's a small world, he feels the world is incomprehensibly large. I write today from Bangkok, Thailand, and though I've just arrived, my life in Cairo, Egypt already seems worlds apart. Many thoughts melted across my mind, the way coconut milk slides across sliced mango, as I made my way from one continent to another. As I left my Cairene apartment on a rare misty morning only yesterday, I hoped desperately that though a luggage-bearing foreigner, Egyptians would not think I was just another tourist fleeing an "unstable" country. I wanted to tell anyone who saw me that morning that I was not running away after broken promises of Nile cruises or other scheduled tours. I was different, I was one of you. But the truth was I was packing up and leaving, just like any other tourist. As I paced the Bahrain airport during an uncomfortable lay over, I could not seem to shake the feeling. I wasn't prepared to be yet another tourist on a tropical holiday. I had witnessed something, something that changed me. Yet here I am, relaxing in a hostel that is a virtual zen paradise, the aromas of famed street food already wafting away the memories of revolutions past. Still, I console myself in realizing that no matter what happens next, I will recall with great fondness a time when my friends and I gathered and discussed our lives and our new country's future. For we were revolutionaries once.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Revolution and Humanity III

The views on the protests I have expressed thus far have been positive. Parents and friends wondered why I was refusing to leave Egypt. I told them that I felt I had to be here for this historic moment, and that my understanding of conflicts, governments, and international relations grew by the minute. That said, after yesterday's experience, I fear that like a sneaker wave upon a shore, the open window of observation will soon be shut.
Since the violence on Wednesday, the attitude towards foreigners has changed dramatically. Before we were greeted with amusement and gratitude. Now, it is hard to walk more than half a block without being stopped by army checkpoints or gangs of young men. Foreigners are now met with suspicion. Cameras used to be embraced, Egyptians asked to have their pictures taken with signs written in both Arabic and English. Now, any camera equipment inspires accusations of journalist. Moving around the city has become difficult, especially downtown. Tuesday evening, on my way home in a cab, all I had to do was make eye contact with any civilian or soldier running the checkpoints. Seeing I was a young, American girl they would just wave our car through. Now, barely 48 hours later, when they spot me in a cab, the car is pulled over, searched thoroughly and my passport is checked. How quickly things change.
My expat friends and I had loyally decided to wait out the revolution and return to our daily lives here in Cairo once the dust settled. We realized last night in somber tones however, that it was time to leave. In melancholy glances, we saw mirror images of unspoken thoughts. What troubles us most is that there is no way to know whether or not we will be able to come back. It is hard to walk away from a situation in which we were so emotionally involved, not knowing if we will all be back in two weeks or if this is in fact goodbye.

Evening prayer in Tahrir

Medan El Tahrir

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Revolution and Humanity II

As promised, I am doing my best to provide snapshots of the last few days. My first and second visits to Tahrir square since the protests began left a profound impression on me.

Monday, January 31: It's true what they say, Tahrir did have the vibe of a music festival, an acoustic guitar would not seem out of place. For all the unrest and world-wide media coverage swirling around the square, it was surprising to find that the epicenter was relaxed and peaceful. My friends had established a meeting spot near a statue in front of the city's notorious bureaucratic headquarters. More than one person mused as to why that building had not been burned or even fired upon by the army, the general fear though was that if attacked, the building would demand, as it always does, days of mind-numbing paperwork. We strolled through the protesters, reading signs, taking pictures and exchanging a few words. As with most Egyptian scenes there was a sense of impromptu organization - families arranged picnics and men organized themselves for the evening call to prayer.
Surrounding the square there were many restaurants boasting maybe equally shocking scenes in the country's capital: single file lines. We stared in awe as men waited patiently one behind the other and even instructed newcomers that yes this was indeed a line and that they would have to step in back. We strolled a little while longer and paused again to listen to music flow through the streets like cherry syrup on summer's first snow cone. We left the square that evening feeling confident, inspired, and generally relaxed.

Tuesday, February 1: This was the day of the million member march, so labeled by the April 6 Movement. The mood downtown was decidedly more tense, but this tension seemed to only settle just around the square, with the inside's peace and beauty still preserved. Entering Tahrir was by far the hardest part of my day. As we drew closer we were pushed into a large crowd funneled through civilian checkpoints. They were checking ID's - more to see if you had one - because it was impossible to apply any specific scrutiny as the masses moved past. I held a photo copy of my passport above my head and did my best to inch through while drawing as little attention as possible. This plan largely failed because they would insist at points that the men and women separate. Women were given more space and could meet their men at the end of the road. With my group of friends being all guys however, I often chose to stay amongst the crowded hoard. Luckily, two tall Egyptian men adopted us. They were instantly protective for two reasons. First, they appreciated us coming to witness these protests and wanted to make sure we understood the situation so that we could spread the word back home. Second, they were, understandably, trying to avoid the situation of an injured American. If one of us were hurt, it would create an international incident unlikely to bode well for Egyptians.
Once in the square, it was again peaceful and jovial. We camped out at our spot, where many many Egyptians came to thank us for simply being there. I was humbled by their gratitude and could only ever manage a meager "your welcome." As Americans, our presence was largely embraced that day. In the evening, we sent out a search party to bring back food. We laughed and talked as we shared pizza and fateer on the hallowed bricks of the country's revolutionary headquarters. As per the custom, when we had our fill we offered any leftovers to people nearby. Then they too laughed and talked and enjoyed their pizza. On my way out that evening, I even saw a make shift tea shop. Men huddled around collecting cups of tea for their families and friends. I left for a second day in a row with a feeling of warmth and confidence in the Egyptian people.

Enough is Enough

Revolution and Humanity

It's hard to know where to start with this post. My experience in the last few days has been incredible. As an earlier post indicates I found myself questioning my role in what is an intimate moment for Egypt. After getting over the initial blush however, I have immersed myself in this historic movement (still as a spectator) and shared in the experience with the Egyptian people. Here I will offer you snapshots of the past few days.

Friday, January 28: What I noticed first was the sunlight. The streets were eerily quiet as rows of riot police cordoned them off. We walked down the naked streets, usually clothed with throngs of people, into rays of sunlight. Somehow, in all my daydreams of revolutions, I never pictured it to be sunny. These romantic ponderings however were decisively interrupted when after turning the corner down a back street we were hit with an invisible wall of tear gas. This was my first encounter with the misty weapon, but it would not, as the day promised, be my last. We paused and watched as protesters halted their cries in order to observe the afternoon prayer. We took advantage of this moment of calm to cross underneath the 6th October Bridge in downtown Cairo. This required that we snake our way through burning tires and burning police cars. While not unfamiliar to pollution, this smoke burned the sky with fumes of self-determination and necessary change.
We then met a crowd of protesters. Some paused and asked us what we thought of the movement. They smiled that endearing Egyptian smile when we told them that what we were witnessing was nothing short of beautiful. Smiles faded however when my friends and I and the Egyptian protesters found ourselves trapped in front of the Ramses Hilton hemmed in by the police's weapon of cowardice and fear. What protruded from that dark backdrop of danger and violence however, was the shining star of Egyptian community. I cannot count the number of Egyptians who approached me offering me water, onions, vinegar, or even a kind word. I witnessed one man lighting a police post on fire. His fellow protesters however stopped him immediately and made him put out the fire. When the hotel fired a rubber bullet in to the crowd out of desperation the crowd chanted, "peacefully, peacefully." As night began to fall we drove home in a taxi. As Cairo burned behind me, I couldn't help but feel the warmth of the Egyptian people. Despite all the ugly chaos spurred by the police and their commander, what ideals were manifested by Egyptians that day were only the most beautiful.