“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.
