Hello, words. I've missed you.

Words. Subtly shaping scenes or brazenly baring broken lives; coldly cutting to the core or whimsically weaving wishes. Beauty; ugliness; pain; love; forgiveness; entrapment. Art. The beauty of words lies in their truth; or perhaps it is their beauty that reveals their truth. And in that truth, the purity and simplicity of naked words - yet neither of those is truth; so, then, perhaps words also are lies.

Words manipulate, they trick. Words make the sinister seem scrupulous; the magnificent, mundane.

To craft words is to know words; to wield words wildly or willfully. A bit of both brings clarity - though sometimes opacity - with a dash of style, a pinch of wit and just a bit of poetry. Inspiration isn't charity.

Stripped of ornamentation, words are just as powerful. Tell a story with adjectives not adverbs. Describe the city by what you see - sidewalks cluttered with construction and pedestrians; white-and-black cabs and rusty motorbikes vie for space in crowded streets; a sandy haze settled low on a horizon of dusty rooftops - and others will see it, too.

Yet words are a capricious craft: the wrong word will rend and raze and render meaningless what was painstakingly built, purposefully created. The wrong word sits heavily, awkwardly, marring hate as fully as joy; loathing diluted to dislike, euphoria whittled away to simple synonyms of happiness and contentment.

Words are used and abused; cultivated and created. Words are a necessity; words are a luxury. They gather together and tear apart and stand between. Written or scribbled or intricately painted; crooned, whispered, shouted, spoken, sung. Intransigent. Maleable. Uncompromising. Submissive.

Hello, words. I've missed you.

Mona Eltahawy speaks out about sexual assault by Egypt police

Mona Eltahawy speaks to CNN after being arrested, beaten, and sexually assaulted by Egyptian riot police.

She says, "I am one of many" who have faced such treatment and she wants the world to know the "brutality of the Egyptian police force." She says she finally refused to answer questions of the military investigations on the grounds that she is a civilian, and was released after about 12 hours in custody.

She says the Egyptian military apologized for the actions of the riot police and said they did not know why she was detained.



Mona was arrested sometime before 3:45am on Thursday, November 24, 2011 and released shortly after noon. For more on her ordeal, check her Twitter stream or these articles:
- Egyptian-American journalist arrested in Cairo
- Egyptian authorities release detained Egyptian-American journalist

Questions over type of gas used against Egypt demonstrators remain unanswered

Every Egyptian who was in the streets during Egypt’s January uprising, it seems, insists the gas used against demonstrators over the past five days is much stronger than what was used in January.

There are rumors that Egyptian Central Security Forces are not using CS gas, known as ‘tear gas’ and commonly used to disperse demonstrations, but the more debilitating CR gas. One difference in the substances is that while water dilutes CS gas, it exacerbates the effects of CR gas.

Some have claimed that there are nerve agents in the gases used against demonstrators in Mohamed Mahmoud Street, which connects Cairo’s iconic Tahrir Square to the Ministry of Interior in downtown Cairo.

Even Mohamed el-Baradei, a popular presidential hopeful and former director of the UN’s nuclear watchdog agency, has suggested that the gas used by riot police against demonstrators isn’t just tear gas.

“Tear gas with nerve agents and live ammunition are being used against civilians,” Baradei said on his official Twitter account on Tuesday. “A massacre is taking place.”

According to Ministry of Health figures, at least 35 people have been killed since clashes broke out between demonstrators and CSF on Saturday morning. Thousands have been injured.

Medics on the scene say the symptoms they have seen over the past five days are completely different from those they saw during demonstrations in January.

One medic told me today that the chest pain, convulsions and seizures caused by the gas during the past weel were not seen at all in January.

Many consider this proof that a different gas is being used.

However, there is another factor: the vast majority of the gas used in January was expired. Most canisters listed a manufacture date of 1999 with a five-year shelf life. The majority of the canisters seen over the past five days - either personally or in photos - were manufactured in August 2010 and consequently are not expired.

“It’s possible,” one medic told me when asked if the new symptoms could simply be from non-expired tear gas. “We won’t know until it’s tested in the lab.”

Two medics today told me that Human Rights Watch and other international NGOs have taken samples of the gases and canisters to determine what they are.

Many gas canisters are marked ‘RIOT CS SMOKE,’ but many more bear no markings whatsoever.

Another medic said samples analyzed in the pharmacy revealed minute traces of cyanide, an extremely deadly poison.

No other sources have confirmed or denied this, and me was not given access to the report.

The Egyptian Ministry of Health says it is also analyzing samples and will reveal the full results without holding anything back.

Some, however, are skeptical.

“We can’t trust what the Ministry of Health says,” one medic in Tahrir Square told me. “They won’t tell us the truth.”

The names of the medics who spoke to me have been withheld for their safety.

This post was initially published at Youm7 English Edition (offline since Jan 2012).

Tear-gassed childhood

A child should never have to know what tear gas is, much less experience it.

Video: Mohamed Mahmoud clashes

Short video of the first of now three days of clashes between Egyptian protesters and riot police on the streets of downtown Cairo.

The heart of an activist

Until a few weeks ago, I knew Alaa Abdel Fattah simply as '@alaa,' a handle and a picture I had followed on Twitter for nearly two years.

I didn't realize until he was detained by Egypt's military prosecution last month that Alaa is the brother of Mona Seif, another Tweep I've followed for nearly two years and only met a few months ago and a staunch supporter of Egypt's No Military Trials for Civilians initiative.

On October 30, 2011 Alaa voluntarily responded to a summons by Egypt's military prosecution. In fact, he didn't just respond, he flew back to Egypt from the United States specifically to attend the summons. Alaa is essentially accused of attacking the military during violent clashes that left 27 dead on October 9 (read my experience that night here).

Alaa then refused to be investigated by the military prosecution on the grounds that he is a civilian, and he was consequently remanded into custody for investigation.

He's still in custody.

I've never met Alaa, but there are some things I know about him through others and through the actions of others. I know that Alaa is willing to fight for a cause he believes in. I know that Alaa is a person to be respected, in part because of the massive outpouring of support after his detention. I know that without people like Alaa, Egypt's January uprising would never have begun or been sustained.

Dozens of Egyptian activists and supporters have changed their user pictures on Twitter to versions of Alaa's avatar; a '#freealaa' campaign has flourished; some activists have changed their Facebook pictures to a picture of Alaa; political activist and long-time public figure Gameela Ismail announced a delay in the launch of her electoral campaign over Alaa's imprisonment; and Alaa's mother has begun a hunger strike.

In interviews posted on YouTube, Alaa is thoughtful and somehow reserved, but determined. The night before he flew back to Egypt to respond to the summons, an interviewer asked him why he was going back, why he didn't just stay in the United States.

"I've personally carried the bodies of comrades who did not run away from bullets. I cannot live with myself if I run away from something much more trivial," said Alaa. "How would I look at myself in the mirror if I hide or run away?"

Alaa's wife, Manal, was nine months pregnant with their first child when her husband responded to the military summons. It's reminiscent of Alaa's early years: his father was imprisoned and tortured as a political detainee.

This video gives you a look into the life of Alaa and his parents; how he was raised to be the man he is. In short, it gives some insight into the heart of an activist who embodies the spirit that inspired and sustained Egypt's January uprising; the determination and strength of spirit that continues to give me hope for Egypt's future:

To tell the story of Egyptians with humanity

I'll be honest: sometimes I wonder why I'm a journalist in Egypt.

Cairo is a dirty, polluted, crowded city. The streets are littered with trash; sand incessantly finds its way into my living room; my family is six timezones away. Everyone is always late, it's impossible to get sources to answer their phones, and Tweeps are more reliable fact checkers than state media.

Last night, for the first time in a long time, I was reminded why I bother: it's because I want to tell the story of the Egyptians. It's because of the never-ending Egyptian humor; the smiles in the face of poverty; the perseverance in the face of persecution. It's because of the slow, steady determination that has kept Egyptians and the Egyptian identity intact over millennia, through invasion, occupation, and oppression.

It's because Egyptians inspire me.

Last night BBC correspondent Lyse Doucet spoke at a gathering of Egyptian and American journalists in Cairo. Her frank speech moved me - and others - nearly to tears. She spoke of objectivity; of obligation; of what it means to be a journalist in a conflict zone. She reminded me why I am a journalist, here and now, and why I care about reporting on Egypt.

"When you cover a happy story, cover it with joy," she said. "When you cover a sad story, cover it with compassion."

To be objective does not mean to be heartless. A good journalist must write with humanity.

I've often wondered what, exactly, is my role - as a foreigner and as a journalist - in Egypt. Both foreigners and Egyptians have told me I don't belong here, and both foreigners and Egyptians have told me I tell the story better than anyone else. I've written before about the line between professionalism and humanity, and that's something that comes to mind again and again.

Before Egypt's January uprising, as a foreigner, I was looked upon with suspicion. As a foreigner, I was thanked profusely. After Egypt's January uprising, as a foreigner, I am looked upon with suspicion. As a foreigner, I am thanked profusely.

It's a bit strange sometimes.

As a journalist, I am obligated to tell the truth as I see it at the time. I am obligated to tell both sides of the story. I am obligated to be objective.

But on January 26, 2011 I watched as a group of young men - unarmed, with their hands in the air as they chanted peaceful, peaceful - were without warning attacked with tear gas, tasers, sticks, and firearms by both uniformed and plainclothes police in the streets of downtown Cairo.

What is the other side of that story?

I don't know.

So what can I do, as a foreign journalist in Egypt? I can write. I can tell the truth, and I can tell it with joy and compassion, which so often seems to be lacking from mainstream media. I can tell the stories of a people and a place that have become dear to my heart, and I can do it in a way many other journalists either cannot or will not.

I've been told I have a way with words. I've been told I can draw people into my writing. I can use that way with words, coupled with common sense and a solid understanding of Egypt's politics and people, and I can tell the story of Egyptians.

That's why I'm a journalist in Egypt.

"The military has thugs," he told me

The hoarse cry came from a man dashing across Cairo’s Abdel Moneim Reyad Square on Sunday night. “The military has thugs! The military has thugs!”

He paused long enough to reiterate the statement to myself and another female journo moving in the opposite direction – “The military has thugs!” – before continuing toward nearby Tahrir Square, the epicenter of Egypt’s January 25 Revolution.

Behind him, a group of military police became clearly visible as they rounded a corner. Among the uniforms were people in plainclothes carrying large sticks and clubs.

The clubs started to swing, and those still in the square ran for cover.

It was around 8pm. The clashes began hours earlier. “This feels like the 28th of January,” someone said, referencing Egypt's 'Day of Rage,' one of the most violent days of the uprising that toppled Egypt’s former regime earlier this year.

The cat-and-mouse game between military police and demonstrators continued into the night as wild rumors spread.

Near the Egyptian Museum, a group of four young people glanced between their cell phones and the scene around them, probably updating Twitter on the situation and their safety.

Twitter is a primary means for activists to keep tabs on each other during demonstrations in Egypt.

Earlier in the evening, the area by the Ramsis Hilton where the military police entered Abdel Moneim Reyad Square was occupied by demonstrators. This was where they carried the wounded from Maspiro, the nearby site of ongoing clashes between Coptic Christian demonstrators, military police and unknown plainclothes persons.

The clashes left at least 26 dead, according to the most recent figures from the Ministry of Health.

Some activists put the number much higher.

Clashes began when unknown persons attacked a Coptic Christian demonstration. When military police  finally intervened it was not to protect the demonstrators, according to eyewitnesses.

Christian demonstrators seeking refuge by the Hilton from the violence and tear gas told me, “The army is killing Christians.”

As the situation around the Hilton intensified, young men directed traffic away from the area. An armed personnel carrier and other vehicles burned, sending a dense black smoke into the air above the Nile.

A fire truck arrived, presumably to put out the fires. It was greeted with stones and rocks, but eventually allowed to pass.

Outside the Hilton, cries of the injured permeated sporadic chants of, “The people want the fall of the musheer,” Egypt’s military ruler, and “Where are our rights?”

One man’s screams faded into dull moans as he was placed on the ground after being carried from Maspiro on a blanket. A group of young men kept the crowd back to give the injured man air, only allowing me, as a photographer, near him, so I could document “what the army did to the Christians.”

A sudden stir in the crowd announced the arrival of Bothaina Kamel, the only woman to announce her candidacy for the Egyptian presidency so far. Wearing a bright orange reflective vest, Bothaina moved quickly through the crowd toward the Nile, the latest location of clashes between military police and demonstrators.

Many Muslims quickly joined their Christian brothers after clashes began. A Coptic man named Nabil told me that Muslims had saved his life twice that night.

Outside the Hilton, one Copt held a string of Muslim prayer beads along with his cross. “Both Muslim and Christian are here,” said another.

“Heard a Muslim guy urging other protesters, ‘let’s head to the front, I’m not gonna let the Christians take a bullet alone,’” tweeted activist Mosa’ab Elshamy. Such poignant moments are reminiscent of the early days of the Egyptian revolution, when Coptic Christians joined hands to protect their Muslim countrymen as they prayed in the streets.

Many Christians were angry, saying they felt they were being targeted. Coptic Christians comprise around 10 percent of Egypt’s population, and often say they are not treated equally to the Muslim majority.

“Christians will live in Egypt forever,” said one Coptic man, angrily blaming the extremist Islamic Salafi trend for being behind attacks against Christians. “They will not make us leave.”

While one man asked repeatedly, “Where is the United Nations?,” another insisted, “We are not asking for international protection.”

A number of activists reported a very different show of solidarity: “I cannot believe it the battle is over and the people who were hitting us from the other side have joined us,” tweeted Lilian Wagdy, an activist on the ground.

A few hours later, popular ‘tweep’ Mahmoud Salem, known on Twitter as ‘Sandmonkey,’ relayed a similar situation. He reported clashes between groups of Egyptians, all in plainclothes, with one side chanting, “The people and the army are one hand” and the other side “Muslims and Christians are one hand.”

Then, he tweeted, “In a very weird moment, both sides started chanting ‘one hand,’ stopped fighting, joined each other into one big marsh.”

At some point, the rumors started to fly, by word of mouth, on Twitter, and in the media.

Among the quickest to spread were claims that U.S. Secretary of State Hilary Clinton had announced that the U.S. would send troops to Egypt to protect Christian churches.

While the United States and the U.S. Embassy in Cairo emphatically denied the rumor, it still made the front page of some Egyptian newspapers on Monday morning.

Another rumor that has proven impossible to confirm claimed someone – either thugs or military personnel – threw dead bodies into the Nile. I have been unable to locate an eyewitness to this incident.

“I say again, I saw three military police throw dead bodies in the Nile, and another body was under their feet,” wrote Mohamed Elmoshir on Twitter.

Some rumors were true: shortly before midnight, I witnessed a military soldier shoot live ammunition in Tahrir Square, and videos of military vehicles driving at reckless speeds through crowds of demonstrators quickly appeared on YouTube.

As Monday dawned, Egyptians were angry, scared, saddened, and, perhaps most of all, worried. What would happen next? What did clashes between the army and the people mean for the transitional period? Blame for last night’s events has been placed on everyone from the demonstrators to Salafis to elements of Egypt’s formerly ruling regime to the military to the ubiquitous “foreign hand.”

One image, provided to the AUC Caravan, perhaps best illustrates the divisions and solidarity on both sides of the battle. In it, a uniformed military soldier carries an injured boy down a debris-strewn street. Another boy and a man in civilian clothes follow the soldier.

In the background, military soldiers and civilians stand, motionless.

**A version of this post was originally published at Youm7 English Edition (offline since Jan 2012).

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Arab Spring

Graphic by alphadesigner.

San Francisco mobile cutoff reeks of Arab authoritarianism

In an unexpected move for such a liberal U.S. city, San Francisco’s mass transport system shut off subterranean cell phone networks last week in an attempt to halt a planned protest. Since then, San Francisco’s Bay Area Rapid Transport (BART) has faced criticism from not only the protest organizers but also a member of its board of directors, American civil liberties organizations and activists from across the world.

The demonstration organized for last Thursday by a cluster of groups called ‘No Justice, No BART’ was in protest of a BART police officer who shot dead a man in one of the subway’s stations on July 3. BART police said the 45-year-old victim had a knife.

On July 11, the protest group briefly shut down three BART subway stations. So, in preparation for the group’s second planned demonstration, BART shut off subterranean cell phone networks. The transport company defended the move by saying their goal was to protect passengers, adding that the protest group had said it would use mobile technology to communicate and organize.

The action is uncannily reminiscent of world dictators who use telecommunications regulation to keep themselves in power. In Egypt, a five-day telecom blackout was intended to halt a mass uprising that just a few weeks later toppled the country’s 30-year dictator.

“In Egypt, we so painfully felt the deadly impact of cutting off communications,” Egyptian activist Mohamed Abdelfattah told me. Abdelfattah was on the streets in Egypt’s Mediterranean city of Alexandria during the 18-day uprising. “During demos, we couldn’t reach families or friends or ambulances.”

“It's incredibly hilarious to hear such a tactic is used in a country that prides itself in promotion of democracy and human rights,” he added.

The so-called democratic “West” consistently denounces attempts across the world to block public unrest or expression with telecom limitations. Yet when faced with demonstrations at home, Western leaders – and apparently transportation authorities – are surprisingly quick to jump to the same tactics.

Just days before the San Francisco incident, British Prime Minister David Cameron considered “limiting” online social networking in an attempt to reign in riots in London.

On Friday afternoon BART officials acknowledged jamming underground cell services from 4-7pm on Thursday to prevent protesters from coordinating plans to stop trains.

“This group seems to want to challenge BART, challenge the police department,” Lt. Andy Alkire told CBS San Francisco. He called the decision to shutdown cell phone service on the subway platforms “a great tool to utilize for this specific purpose.” He did, however, call it an unusual measure.

The would-be protesters (who never materialized on Thursday) and others are furious with BART’s decision. An online petition titled, ‘BART: Stay Out of Our Cell Phone Service!’ received over 3,000 signatures from across the globe overnight.

Some activists have done more than create a petition: a group of anonymous hackers broke into a BART-affiliated website yesterday and posted contact information for more than 2,000 customers as a way to get back at the transportation authority.

The Associated Press called those calling for new demonstrations against BART “anarchists.”

Many are questioning the constitutionality of BART’s decision. According to the San Francisco Chronicle, some civil libertarians “predicted legal action, or at least serious investigation by the Federal Communications Commission.”

In addition to denouncing BART’s move, the online petition states, “the FCC [Federal Communication Commission] has frequently published warnings in the past regarding the illegal nature of jamming cell phone services.”

The Associated Press reported that even a member of BART’s board of directors denounced the action. “I'm just shocked that they didn't think about the implications of this. We really don't have the right to be this type of censor," Lynette Sweet, a member of BART’s board, told the AP. “In my opinion, we've let the actions of a few people affect everybody. And that's not fair."

What Sweet says is “not fair” is exactly the reasoning BART’s deputy police chief used to defend the action. According to the San Francisco Chronicle, police chief Benson Fairow “said that BART considered the free speech implications posed by the cell phone shutdown but decided that those rights were outweighed by the need to protect the public.”

In response to my inquiry, BART Deputy Chief Communications Officer James Allison sent the following statement via e-mail: “BART temporarily interrupted service at select BART stations as one of many tactics to ensure the safety of everyone on the platform.

“Paid areas of BART stations are reserved for ticketed passengers who are boarding, exiting or waiting for BART cars and trains, or for authorized BART personnel. No person shall conduct or participate in assemblies or demonstrations or engage in other expressive activities in the paid areas of BART stations, including BART cars and trains and BART station platforms.”

The statement also said BART “accommodates expressive activities” that are protected by the U.S. and California State Constitution and “has made available certain areas of its property for expressive activity.”

The statement added that cell phone services outside BART platforms were not interrupted and that security personnel were standing by for customers seeking assistance.

It must be noted that BART did not ask cell phone providers to shut down towers near its stations or jam wireless signals. According to the Chronicle, BART owns and controls its subterranean wireless network and BART police ordered it switched off “after receiving permission from BART interim General Manager Sherwood Wakeman, former general counsel for the transit district.”

Thus, no one outside the subway system was affected.

Even so, Abdelfattah, who began attending demonstrations in Egypt long before January 25, said it is never acceptable to shut down communications. He recalls being powerless when friends were killed or injured during Egypt’s uprising, without the ability to call for help. “We then realized the state should never have any control over communications,” he said.

“Being able to communicate is an irrefutable human right and cutting [communications] off in such a mass arbitrary manner should be regarded as a collective punishment,” he added.

The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) agrees with Abdelfattah.

"All over the world, people are using mobile devices to protest oppressive regimes, and governments are shutting down cell phone towers and the Internet to stop them," Michael Risher, a staff attorney for the ACLU in Northern California, told the San Francisco Chronicle. "It's outrageous that in San Francisco, BART is doing the same thing."

"We don't want the government turning off cell phones in Syria, and we don't want them turning off cell phones here," said Patricia Shean, 72, told the Chronicle. "We deal with things differently here."

“It seems true that each country has its own particular fight for democracy and rights,” said Abdelfattah.

This article was originally published on August 15 at Youm7 English Edition (offline since Jan 2012).