The Rotten Pomegranate

As I sit on this train speeding towards Alexandria from Cairo and breathe a sigh of relief after the end of the GRE era, I felt compelled to pull out my laptop to share with you what is going on inside my head. Though mostly preoccupied with enjoying the takyif (air conditioning) and the lack of screaming children on this trip, the soldier next to me reminds me of story of despotism, oppression, and everything else that the Egyptian military and police force so dramatically reminds me of.

I had a conversation with a taxi driver last night on my way back from dinner on the way to Wenzel's apartment. While backed up in the usual smothering exhausted fumes, idling on October 6^th Bridge, the cab driver began to ask the usual questions as we bonded over the national joke that traffic has become. “Where are you from? You live here? Etc. I felt in the mood to practice my Arabic a bit, and since we were stalled and he was clearly bored, he was going to talk to us anyway. The conversation quickly turned to politics: “'andy su'aal wahid lak” (I have one question for you), he says. “Bush?” I look like I'm going to vomit, and he laughs. “I like Obama, too,” he tells me. “You see, Bush, the son, was terrible. I'm not talking about the invasion of Iraq,” he continues. He's just, well...” “His personality is just evil, isn't t?” He smiled. “Yes, totally. But Obama, he hasn't done anything. He's a good man. I love America, I want to travel someday.”

At this point, I felt bold enough to start asking questions about politics, about the elections at the end of this month for parliament, and told him that our elections for Congress were today. Do you have any expectations for who will win?” I asked. He laughs: “Hizb al-watany (The Nationalist Party, and President Mubarak's Party). “ He shakes his head, and continues. “You know, I'm gonna tell you something. People here are tired. Egyptians are just tired of the whole thing (He used ta'aban, which has the dual meaning of “tired”, as well as “sick”, like ailing; still not sure which he meant, but I can guess). This is not a democracy, this is a kingdom, like Saudi Arabia. The President just wants to hold onto power until he dies. Who knows, maybe his son will be better. But Egypt has problems, many problems that need to be fixed. Look at this (indicating traffic). “Egyptians deserve change,” I said agreeing. “The whole Arab world needs change,” he said. Rulers just hold onto power and don't want to give it up.” “Do you think change will come to Egypt?” I asked in wonderment. “No. Never. Not until Mubarak dies. The power lies with that man, not the Party. Without him, perhaps change will come. The other candidate, who isn't really a candidate because he's not part of a recognized political party, is not good for Egypt. He's live outside of the country for much of his life. Huwwa mish ha-ya'arf anna 'ayiz aye” (We won't know what I want). Huwwa mut'aalm giddan” (He's really learned/educated. I assume he was saying that he wouldn't know the problems of the ordinary Egyptian). I thanked him and said I really enjoyed the discussion. “Allah ya khalik” (“God keep you”=thank you), he replied.

As I get deeper into Egypt, I begin to understand al-hayat hinna (life here), and why Egyptians are the way they are. 30% illiteracy rate, political constraints in which no one has chosen a president in 30 years, emergency laws from the assassination President Sadaat, a overarching police and secret police force that keeps a careful eye on those who want to disrupt the status quo, economic stagnation that transcends imaginability and has led to 40% of Egyptians living on less than the equivalent of $2 per day, and classism that divides society into clear-cut cohorts of “haves and have-nots”. “Egyptians are tired”. That phrase rings loud in my memory and strikes something within my core. It certainly helps to put things into perspective for me, and takes my self-centered day-to-day struggles against the bigger picture. I'm not truly suffering in the same way they are. This is all just a dream and after 7 more months I will wake up. Al-hayat (الحياة) here is wearing me down, and I'm not even Egyptian. The more I stay here, the more I get sick of the same quotidien annoyances and struggles of this people. As I told Wenzel yesterday, “Cairo reminds me of 20 years after the economic collapse of a first world country.” Infrastructure is there, but it's all messed up. Things are willy-nilly flung around the city. Sidewalks are unwalkable and we're forced to walk in the streets packed with cars totally around 5 million. There are no emissions regulations because everyone drives old cars. The subway system has limited routes, and water is filtered of impurities to a certain extent, but despite the Egyptian government's effort to dump bleach in the system, it is still unsanitary and totally undrinkable due to the amount of heavy metals that leave their mark on the back of the hair of most Egyptian men.

I was mildly irritated and a bit amused at the utter blindness of a worker in a sandwich shop. He looks at Zenit, who is Muslim, and told her that if she's Muslim, she should pray more. It wasn't only good for her, but also for us (pointing to the white kids). “They're lost.” He said. Lost? Though totally condescending with the conversation about the exact way to order things that followed, I was flabbergasted that this man called me lost. Like most Egyptians, they assume that people who look “non-Egyptian” do not speak Arabic, they are not Muslim, and they need an excessive amount of help for the simpest of tasks. Again, lost. What an ironic assessment of my life, assumed about me based on my appearance. Again, a lack of education and non-exposure to the world in general has produced this. I wonder if he ever thinks about how “lost” his society is? About how corrupt it is, and does he really think it's a joke, like they always portray it? I think he thinks about it everyday of his life, every hour he steps out to see unregulated, smog-producing traffic, when he lights up that cigarette with the cancerous picture of teeth on the label, when he walks over the heap of trash piled high on the sidewalk, and when he goes to pay for the rising price of bread. What about the white outfits and black caps on every corner set there to do absolutely nothing but harass women and look bored in the name of the law? Haram 'alayh”,of course he knows. Whatever he thinks about my religion, he cannot deny the fact that his society is lost, perhaps indefinitely. I always believed in change, especially after Obama's election, but the oppressive, tired atmosphere of Egyptian life is weighing upon me and beginning to erode my hopeful expectations, especially for the presidential elections. Mubarak is running again for another term, and the cab driver, along with every other tired Egyptian has told me that he will win. It's inevitable..

Inevitable. I've held strong to the existentialist belief that deep inside every person was the power of choice in every thing we do, even when it appears there exist no choice. Not choosing is also to choose. But really, when it comes to this, how do you choose to change your political situation? How do you break free of chains that bind you so far down, which have strong roots deep in everything you do, say, eat, and see? I stil believe in the omnipresence of choice, but I've come to look at it differently from my time in Egypt. Perhaps choosing not to act against such a system on a personal level is not a sign of societal weakness, like existentialists claim. In Egypt, it's a game of survival. Who has time to think about change on such a large scale, especially when you can't guarantee that you will be successful, you won't be caught and tortured, or no one will follow you for fear of the same punishment? There are no assurances, there are no guarantees that you will be successful, and you have everything to lose. But I do ask: In a society in which “everything” has been stripped down to immaterial notions of pride and dignity when will it all explode?