PERSPECTIVE
An aid workers impressions as she travels the world building toilets.
Latest public adventure: to be determined.
Poems, photos and ramblings abound.


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February 20, 2011

The Seattle Seven

Writing contest update time!

For anyone new, last April or so I embarked on this adventure to enter 10 online writing contests. So far I have entered 6, and well it was Friday, but today I will report on number 7.

So far, 7 contests entered, 0 won, but still waiting for results in 1.

* * * 
Past Contests Summary: I'm a loser baby.

Contest #1 was sponsored on Helium and I did horribly. I should have done well, because it was a subject I know and love (water and sanitation), but I sucked. That's cool. I kept submitting things on Helium, and on subjects where I felt less passionately (like make up tips), I did quite well. The poetry is still doing crappily, but I have made about 20 bucks over the past 10 months.

Contest #2 was an annual poetry contest to raise awareness about land mines sponsored by Poetic Republic. Well, I didn't win that one either. The same poet as the year before won again.

Contest #3 was also a poetry contest, called Best New Poets, and is highly competitive. I didn't have a chance, but it was fun anyway.


Contest #4 was another contest sponsored by Helium, in which the articles compete to be purchased by some magazine looking for articles about "Garden Gifts for Dad this Father's Day".  I didn't win, but I wasn't last.  

Contest #5 was simply a poem submitted for publication to ISREADS, a literary magazine that publishes their stuff outside - like on light posts or supermarket carts. I thought it was a cool idea.  This is the only contest to which I do not have my response. I have followed up with them, but to no avail, and they have not published another issue yet... so I await.

Contest #6 is one I made up to compete with myself to see if I could double the maximum number of hits to this blog in one day. I didn't win. Although I did get a maximum number of hits in one day, I didn't double my previous record. It made for one of my favorite blog posts. I did this post as part of Blog Action Day, which in itself was fun to participate in as well.

* * * 
New Contest #7 Summary: Best of what's around.

I entered contest #7 on Friday, and by far the most fun I have had during this adventure! It was on a site called Words Undone, which is a small online writing group which I am quite liking. You have to be a member to view the forums, which is good because then submitted work is simply critiqued, rather than published (like it is on Helium).

The contest is something they call "Friday Flash" and it goes something like this: There is a prompt. You have 24 hours (but I figure you should do it as quick as you can, I took about an hour). Then members vote for their favorite and give feedback on all the pieces submitted. There were 8 submissions and 10 people voted.

"The following prompts can be combined or used individually as required
 

Suggested words: Burn, Trees, Lips, White
Or use one of the following titles:
Power Supply, My Favourite Place
Or include any of the following phrases:
The cupboard was bare, Wish I’d thought of that, I found this lying around

Maximum of 500 words

Submissions to be posted by midnight Friday. Once all submissions are in, the thread is open for comments and voting. Winners are proposed to Lorraine for inclusion in the next WU Magazine."


I got 1 vote (Yay! the winner got 3), and some great feedback! Here is my non-winning entry, although I revised it only slightly according to the feedback given (specifically, the beard was "golden", as in the King Tut mask in my head, but someone thought I meant a blonde man and got confused).

* * *  
[out to lunch]

* * *
Ego Summary: Be here Now.

Have to say that traffic to this site has increased. I have profited from the awareness about Egypt, it's place in this exciting region, and the fact that I have the good luck to be here now. I'll take it. Thanks to everyone sharing my link on Facebook and thanks to the Beaufort Gazette for a little more publicity (featured hometown girl blog).

I have some ideas for upcoming posts: more on Egypt, Cairo, and life here, but also some rants on data, dorks, and dumbassery (stolen word).

February 13, 2011

Magic Carpet Ride

After a serious bout with the much heralded aid-worker affliction of righteous indignation, demonstrated in my last post, I will embrace my inner hypocrite and tell you about my visit to Tahrir Square. In my defense (or how I have satisfied my moral dissonance with "revolution tourism"), the Egyptian people have already won their battle.

In all seriousness, it is one of the most amazing events I have ever witnessed, up there with babies being born. Here is one of those iconic images I took on my own camera (which yesterday I mocked).


* * *

Some friends had gone down to Tahrir Square last night, just after the president stepped down, handing power to the military. They had been on the square during the protests for work, and they were really impressed by the change in vibe. Before it was full of tension and edgy, after it was full of joy and smooth.

Saturday morning, I hopped on the Metro and finally got out of Maadi. The ticket monitor dude sat on his chair, looked at me and said "Welcome!" waving the laminated Egyptian Flag hanging from his chest. I smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

My fellow metro riders were also headed downtown to Tahrir square. Many people carried brooms and mops and buckets and plastic gloves.

* * *

From a balcony about 2 blocks from Tahrir square I checked out the traffic. Not unusual in Cairo, but this time full of Egyptian flags waving out the windows and the horns were a little better coordinated into
Beeeeeeeeeeeeep Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep Beep Beep Beep.
I was pretty overwhelmed, even from 2 blocks away.

As we entered the fantastic fray, back at street level, black and red and white swarmed around me.

* * *

I love hippies: old hippies, young hippettes, dirty hippies, but they ain't got nothing on Egyptians today. The joy and good will felt on Tahrir Square today was deep and genuine and unpretentious as I have ever seen.


Everyone was cleaning as they had demonstrated. Everyone. Women, men, kids. People passed out rubber gloves, garbage bags, brooms. Everyone scrubbing off the words, trash already gone, even the dust that settled on the pavement was swept into dustpans.

If the same happened in New York or Nairobi or even a hippy-filled field in California, you would be left with a disgusting shit-filled mess with trampled grass and flowers. Not here.

The dignity and pride of this movement. It has been Civilized from start to finish, it seems.

There was violence, but very little and it was short lived. Many tried to incite more, but that didn't work very well. Everyone expected more. Each time there was a change, the media went on and on and on, speculating about how it could break down, always surprised when it was okay. Communication was completely blocked, but that too was short lived. For the most part, the military respected the peoples legitimate right to protest and the people respected the military.

* * *

One man brought his 3 young sons to Tahrir square on Saturday, maybe aged 6 to 11 or so, dressed in military uniform. He got a lot of smiles.

One group of young man had a sign and chanted something like "With Mubarak's money I can get afford to get married!" An old woman laughed and joked with him. I imagined she said something like "You're still too ugly to marry my daughter, ha ha ha", but really I have no idea what she said.

Dolled up young women, in their best head scarves in the color of the flag, glamorous JLo sunglasses, shiny shoes. Flirting with the boys wearing cleaned leather jackets.

The iconic images of this event were still there, like where a guy had opened up the light post, connected his wires and with a multi-plug, 15 phones were charging at once. Youth on the square with thier laptops out. More flip phones than I have ever seen.

The military men threw candy at the crowds. This reminded me of the Coast Gaurd Santa Ship that would throw candy to the old dock on the island where I used to live.

* * *
As we walked among the back streets, off the square, we continuted to think of Cautious Optimism. Businesses were opening. The streets were being cleaned. People sat in plastic chairs drinking tea and smoking sheesha.

The McDonalds, where on the 25th I had taken refuge when the riot police started marching, has been destroyed. I thought of the McDonalds Indicator of civil strife mentioned in a previous post and decided I would monitor the situation.

I have talked to people a little. The nutritionist and trainer at my gym are worried about the future. A businessman downstairs says he is optimistic for the future. The people on Tahrir square don't seem to have thought that far a head yet. 

Another side that I should share is that people have said that yes, the president needed to change, but that the way he was forced out lacked dignity, that he deserved more respect, that he had done a lot for the country in the past.

80 million people. 80 million perspectives. 80 million futures.

* * *
So there I was.
So I was there.

I am so lucky.

To the right you see, from back to front: burnt out NDP headquarters, cranes in front of the museum, the crowd, veiled women, proud man, sarcastic white woman.

* * *

What lies a head will be interesting and exciting here. The region is on fire. I just hope it is good.

February 11, 2011

Revolution 9

(I don't think John or Yoko will mind if I put their lyrics out of order... sort of their point wasn't it?)

(Editorial note added after: Why is Revolution 9 more appropriate to this Egypt today than Revolution? The song Revolution is before the action, almost mocking it - but Revolution 9 is clearly after the action and dealing with the chaos and the pieces and the potential of change.)

* * * 

Number nine, number nine, number nine, number nine

Take this, brother, may it serve you well
Maybe it's nothing
What, what oh...
Maybe, even then, impervious in London [Cairo]
...Could be difficult thing...
It's quick like rush for peace because it's so much
Like being naked
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright


* * *


The incessant horns of traffic have been tuned into an anthem for today. The conductor is blind and invisible. Two long and three short blasts.
Beeeeeeep Beeeeeeeep Beep Beep Beep

I am privledge to have witnessed this event. And not from my balcony, but from street level.

I met a friend at the metro station and we walked to a cafe to have a sheesha and a tea. We chatted over the loud television about the media, about how people want to go back to normal, about how incredible it is. We watched people walk by. There was a quick address, in arabic, so we kept talking - then everyone cheered. We asked for a quick translation.

"He left."
"He is no longer president?"
"Yes. The army."

Firecrackers, I say. My friend thinks it's celebratory gun fire next door. We will never know, but celebratory it is indeed. That's when the cars started honking, rolling by. Where their Egyptian flags had been stuck in windows, they were now being waved by youth hanging out of moving cars.

I walk the 20 minutes back home, the
Beeeeeeeeeeep Beeeeeeeeeeep Beep Beep Beep continues with flags and cheers, punctual but repeated.

At the small roundabout just after the train track, for the first time I have ever seen, the fountain was flowing and lighted. I jump and laugh at myself as a young man throws fireworks in the air.

* * * 
But what now? Wow, this will be interesting.
We are smiling large pumpkin grins with a shadow of
Cautious Optimism. 
This is not Africa, we say. 
Tongue in cheek, but it's true.

* * *
  There was not really enough light to get down,
And ultimately (...) Slumped down
Suddenly...
They may stop the funding...
Place your bets
The original
Afraid she'll die (...)
Great colours for the season
 
Number nine, number nine

* * *

So, I will update quite a bit in the next few days.
Until then, please check out this interview of me on a Seattle rogue podcast show (The Marty Riemer Show). He wanted to talk to me about Egypt, about what the people are saying. I didn't really want to talk about what Egyptians are saying. I guess I see his point of view, it IS interesting, but they are saying it themselves and I thought asking me was sorta lazy.  After the interview I wrote him an email, but I don't think he mentioned it on later shows. That's fine, I still dig him and his show. Check him out if you are from the area.

Here's a sorta wordy excerpt of my sorta wordy email:

"Howdy Yaz, Marty et al.

It is a really romantic idea to go join the protests here in Cairo, (to get out as you said... )
to go collect some iconic pictures on my own camera,
to be one with the people, to make history, and to yell
"Viva la revolution!" (preferably in a sweet spanish accent)
or "Down with zee facists!" (preferably in a sweet french accent).

But it is actually a stupid, not a romantic, idea for me to do that.

Foreigners like me have nothing to offer these protests: it is theirs and should remain by and for Egyptians. It is not my place. In fact, by participating I could undermine their message. By trying to interpret their message I could also undermine it. Their message is getting out by "real journalists" and by their own voices (esp. online), i.e. not by me. 
By the way- you can get an Al Jazeera English app for your smart phone that streams it live  (... and if THAT is not available from Comcast, then maybe our own government should be over thrown... ha ha ha.)

Sorry, I know there are a lot of activists and politically active people out there (a lot of them are my friends and probably your listeners) ... It is good, important and there is a place for that sort of activism. But it is not my style, nor appropriate here. You see, I find it a bit pretentious when privileged white people pretend to "feel the pain" of the less fortunate. I am a privledged white person and I try not to pretend to be anything else. We all want to help people (usually for selfish reasons, in fact, but that's another debate) but sometimes,
the best way to help someone is NOT by protesting with them
and NOT by running down to watch them for our own entertainment and awe,
but by doing nothing.

In Cairo, they don't have any need for me (a privileged, sarcastic, white lady) right now and THAT is exactly what makes these events so powerful and extraordinary - even for my fruit dude.

Take care and I'll keep listening. Love your show.
Maybe after this settles down, I'll have another perspective (a real one) to show you... if you like. I haven't made it to the pyramids yet, but I heard they smell like piss."

* * *
Number nine, number nine
Who's to know?
Who was to know?
Number nine, number nine, number nine, number nine
Number nine, number nine, number nine, number nine
Number nine, number nine, number nine, number nine
I sustained nothing worse than (...) 
* * *

Beeeeeeeeep Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep Beep Beep Beep
has replaced the gunfire that started this and it sounds like cautious optimism.

February 3, 2011

Blinded by the night

there is no sand storm
despite yellow stained rays
creeping up the side of shaky skyscrapers
leaning on poorly built lintels
cracked re-bar exposed
under thick un-mortered walls


* * *

So, in the last post I didn't say it explicitly. But here we are, I must... Heisenberg and Bias. Check out the old post, if you haven't yet or if you are new.

* * *

Last night was really incredible. Of course I mention how peaceful it has been, and then it explodes. Do I keep my mouth shut now?

I will not speculate on Why or How or Motivations or Timings of the clashes. I admit that my view of Tahrir square is from 10 km away.

The pro-government protesters approached the square where the anti-government protesters have been for the past week. They charged on foot, on horseback, on camels. A lot of things were thrown by both sides, rocks, sticks, "gas bombs" or molitov cocktails. The front between the two groups shifted back and forth, back and forth as they pushed each other. It was impossible to tell who was who. People got onto roofs. Throwing off chairs and other things.

There was a line of 3 trucks that had no drivers. They were used as a front line, a shield for both sides. They were pushed and moved as the tide of the line moved back and forth.

But that was last night... today is today... now is now... and when you are reading this it will be later.

* * *

Reputable news agencies in this end of the world keep asking leading questions. Interviewing one side only. Using inflammatory language.

There are 80 million people in this country and probably 80 million sides. I guess they can't get to everybody, but maybe more than one would be nice.

* * *

Ego update: Lots of hits on this here humble blog in the past few days. Leave me some comments here! I would love to hear what you like and don't like.

February 1, 2011

Pollution Revolution

“There is a fine line between freedom and chaos,” the president said.

I promised first impressions of Cairo. Well, it is an interesting time to get some first impressions. It has been a week since the protest started and I am fascinated. I am also frustrated because I am not working, I am not out there and I have to stay indoors a lot.

Adoring Robert Fisk does not make me an expert on the Middle East.
This post is not about the region or the politics itself, just my observations.

* * *
Backdrop

I was going to write about the civilized pollution of 20 million people in the air, in the river, blowing noise in your ears. Street exhaust turns my snot black, yet this city noticeably lacks the scent of piss. A blue toilet ended up on the bank of the Nile, but I have not seen a single turd. Under the eerie orange tinted sun, like a solar eclipse, the never ending din of traffic horns is maddening.

I was going to write about the pulse of 20 million people. I walked upstream, south along the corniche, passing resters on benches along the Nile under shade trees. I visited some old churches like a tourist. I wandered through tiny streets filled with baby goats where the dust is packed neatly by old women (still a foreigner, but less of a tourist). I went to the movies at a shiny mall and saw “6 7 8”, a new Egyptian masterpiece about another type of revolution.

I was going to write about how I like this city, but it seems that this here revolution could be more interesting.

* * *
Timeline

The work week in Egypt is Sunday to Thursday. Sunday and Monday were calm and were spent moving into our new apartment.

Tuesday was Police Day and the day it started; a holiday for the country, a day off from work for all, but protests ensued and so the police did not get their day off.

Wednesday I went into town to register for a continuing studies class in Arabic at the American University. Riot police blocked several streets and intersections; it was calm, but tense and they didn’t bother me. I found the metro station on the main square (Tahrir Square) was closed, so I walked south about 10 minutes to the next station and went home.

Thursday, protests continued downtown. I stayed out of the way and successfully explored my new semi-suburban neighbourhood.

Friday was my wedding anniversary. Mario and I had planned a romantic dinner along the Nile. Friday was named the Day of Rage (or Anger ... lost in translation) because the people had planned mass protests after Friday prayers.

Friday evolved somehow sublime, slow and sneaky; filtered by 10 km of city between our suburb and downtown, filtered by our  suburban expatriate sphere, filtered by the television.
The cell phone network went down.
Then the internet, but not the land-line.
Then we tried the sat phone and it was jammed.
Then a curfew was imposed across the country, announced at 5:30 pm and started at 6:00.
The vegetable seller sold me sweet potatoes, and as usual tried to push his broccoli, while he rushed me out and complained that because of the government he had to close his shop without proper cleaning. He would see me tomorrow, Insh’allah.

* * *

In the midst of this turmoil, protest, uprising, infatada, revolution - whatever you want to call it - Cairo is colourful, exciting, moving and incredible to observe.


* * *

Since last Friday, January 28th, the situation changes quickly, yet a steady rhythm has developed in the turmoil: in the movements of people, in the news, in the sounds of gunfire. The rhythm is somehow correlated to the curfew.

The curfew ends at 8 in the morning. As the week has progressed the curfew start time has been moved up from 6 pm to 4 pm, and yesterday to 3 pm.

When the curfew lifts, people start moving for the day. The first days everyone rushed the markets, stocking up and sounding a little confused; yesterday the streets were full of expatriates waiting on the corner for taxis with piles of luggage to get out; today the gym is open, banks are still closed and foreigners know if they are leaving or staying.

When the curfew starts the city shifts. People head home, but once you are in your own neighbourhood you can be outside freely. The neighbourhood men put back up their blockades, drag their sticks on the pavement clang, clang, clang; start their fires, put on the teapot for the nightlong watch.


During the first days, I was glued to the news constantly flipping between channels because it changed rapidly (Mario translating the Arabic channels). A week on, most of the exciting news is broadcast when the curfew starts until about 9 pm. Al Jazeera had their Cairo offices shut down, some of their reporters arrested (who have since been released) and cameras confiscated, and so their coverage has become a bit more sporadic and less deep.

During the first days, there was little or no gunfire in my neighbourhood at all. Then some throughout the night and then a lot throughout the night. Yesterday, there was less throughout the night but more during the day. Last night was quiet, as is this morning. It is not a civil war, not people shooting at each other, per se. It seems to be people shooting in the air as warnings. At first it was smaller arms, then a bit of automatic fire.

* * *

The most iconic scene has been of the crowds of protesters at prayer time. A chaotic mass of people organically arranges itself in neat lines facing Mecca, all the while standing and kneeling in unison.

But don’t misinterpret the image. These are not religious protests; it is simply that the majority of people in Egypt are Muslim, so they pray as such and do not miss a call.

* * *

In my opinion, the lack of violence so far is astonishing. Yes: tear gas was fired, people have looted, people have been shot, people have been beaten. Not to minimize that, but it is a lot less than it could have been.

During the first days (when the riot police were present) were the worst so far in terms of violence - a dangerous, impulsive, edgy energy prevailed - but even then, the riot police did stop hitting when the protesters retreated.

The police disappeared after the first days. The army has been a constant presence.

The interactions of the army and the protesters is amazing. Tanks are everywhere downtown, they come and go, but the protesters and people welcome them. The tank drivers don’t fire on the people and respect their legitimate right to protest”. There are official statements by the state as to this. There are slogans spray painted on the tanks. The tank drivers and protesters shake hands.

The ruling party’s headquarters were set on fire, next door to the famous Museum of Antiquities. In the beginning, protesters joined hands around the museum to protect it from the fire and looters until the army arrived.

Preserving order and protecting private property in light of chaos has fallen upon the people somewhat. Neighbourhoods have set up “vigilante groups” - a bad translation I think - they are more like a very active neighbourhood watch. Each night they stand guard with sticks, metal rods and some guns. Looking down my long street I can see about 6 stations, where the men have pulled concrete blocks into the road, moved the garbage cans into the street. Cars cannot pass. Walking people, like myself, are not hindered. (Although I have to admit, I live in a nice neighbourhood.)

“Vigilante groups” are not the same a “thugs”. The deciphered Arabic to English vocabulary of Egypt is delightful, fascinating and surprising sometimes.

* * *

It is important to understand that there are several types of security forces. As far as I can gather, the police are under the Ministry of the Interior and the military is separate (Ministry of Defence?). Both command a certain kind of respect: The police are feared, and the military is revered.

* * *

One of the first interviews I saw was with a young woman from the American University in Cairo. She came across as cold, but informed and clear headed. When asked to describe the street scenes, she said something like Today, in the streets I saw more blood than I have ever seen. More than in the movies. And she smiled.

* * *

When it is in front of you, it is easy to see the difference between reality and what is in the media. I am not a skeptic, but I am skeptical.

Sensational sexy stories sell: Camera angles make crowds look bigger. The most graphic images are played and re-played. The most violent quotes are iterated and re-iterated. The most shocking stories are told and re-told.

Control can check conception: Images and facts can also be manipulated to minimize the situation. Numbers and can be misconstrued or can be absolute lies propagated on purpose.  Images of streets with no crowds
present can also be played and re-played.

It is not black and white. And it is not simple. The scene is always shifting greys, with colours fading in and out depending on the angle from which you view the scene (or the quality of your webcam). Each exaggeration or downplay is based on reality, or rather someone’s vision of reality, or rather what was once reality.

* * *

There are some journalists who give and command respect; who are rational and neutral in their use of language, tone and facts. There are also some journalists who employ 'Jerry Springer' style reporting (and indeed they are on reputable stations, during non-editorial shows). They are on both sides.
They threaten the integrity of the action and seem to want to incite violence and anger and emotions.
And they make me sick.

As the government has been dissolved and ministers step down, some reporters have used the word defect instead of resign”.

A woman interviewing a government representative interrupted him at least 5 times, never let him finish a sentence and screamed at him. “... these are not mobs. Men, women and children.”

* * *

I don’t have photos of the protests for this post. I am neither a journalist rushing for a story, nor a foolish idealist who thinks my presence is needed to enhance the voice of the Egyptian people. I have simply observed them from walks in calm areas, from my balcony and rooftop, through television and through conversations.

Now people are talking about economics. Stock market closed. More practically, banks are closed and ATMs are out of money.

As I write this, there is a stand off. No one is moving on either side. What’s next?

* * *

At the top of this blog, you will find a favourite quote of mine, which in context has nothing to do with Egypt, but out of context can be appropriate today.