Challenging sexual harassment in Egypt's public spaces

'#EndSH' - that was the hashtag dominating Egyptians' twitter feeds yesterday. End sexual harassment. Harassment is a rampant problem on the streets of Cairo: 83% of Egyptian women and 98% of foreign women have admitted harassed (2008 survey by the Egyptian Center for Women's Rights).

Image courtesy of ihollaback.org.

The survey also revealed that approximately half of those women face harassment on a daily basis.

In most cases, harassment is limited to cat-calling across the street - "ya aasl!" (honey) - or whispered comments as a woman walks by - "We fuck now?" But while a minority, groping, attempted fingering, and public masturbation are uncomfortably common. Harassers come from every class of society, from youth on the street cat-calling to well-dressed businessmen in Mercedes propositioning women as they drive by.

"When harrasers include youth, married men, fathers, policemen, taxi drivers, etc. It means we all know or live with a harraser & can #endSH," wrote Merna on Twitter.

"I won't forget the time a gross fat man on a bike was masturbating to me as I walked down then street, shouting out obscenities. #EndSH," posted Jazz Khalifa on Twitter.

"#Maadi Rd9, walked a girl I worked w to her Moms car @ the end of the road. Guy groped & taunted her, I decked him. #EndSH #Egypt,"wrote Patricia Stein. 

Organizations such as HarassMap.org attempt to pinpoint and combat harassment, as well as providing women with a place to vent about what's happened to them. All day on June 13, HarassMap posted women's stories of harassment on Twitter. Some of the posts were horrifying. "Teenagers grab your ass and film on their mobiles," read one tweet. "Ramsis station, wait the train get your breasts grabbed," said another.

One goal of the 'EndSH' blogging day is to open up discussion. Talking about sexual harassment is very much a taboo, with Egyptian mothers shushing their daughters about the issue, teaching them from a young age that they should remain quiet about whatever harassment they've been subjected to on the streets of Cairo (this statement summarizes many personal accounts from female Egyptian friends).

Deena Adel posted on Twitter, "Do you realize how much time a woman in Egypt has to spend in a state of defense on any given day? ... Things I have to do when on the street: 1-Avoid eye contact. 2-Cross the street every 2 mins. 3-Hold my keys in case I need to defend myself".

In a very powerful blog post, Merna Thomas writes about her lifelong experience with harassment in Egypt, letting strangers inside her head: "See, the thing is, harassment, especially the non-stop daily/hourly kind makes you feel ugly. Every body part that they look at, comment on, and touch is ugly. It's ugly and it's wrong. And that becomes your body image."

This graffiti, painted in downtown Cairo, threatens harassers with castration.

In a blog post here, Mina Naguib talks about feeling helpless to protect his female friends from harassment. Referring to plans to hold a stand against harassment in Tahrir Square, Naguib writes: "I hope it turns out to be a great success not by men defending women but men and women standing up side by side against the regime and the society."

Naguib's post also touches on the fact that it doesn't matter what a woman is wearing - she'll get harassed anyway. Underscoring the point, Sandy wrote on Twitter, "#EndSH do you know that girls in Nikkab actually get harassed? Because men believe she must be hiding something!"

Along a similar line, Cairo-based journalist Ghazala Irshad wrote on Twitter, "I think of #endSH as less a campaign against sexual harassment & more of a campaign FOR respecting women..."

"Media, film, and others need to empower women to take action and spread fear among the harassers if they do harass. It works," wrote Egyptian Mohamed Abdelfattah on Twitter. "Utilizing the powers of media and cinema to #EndSH is possible. It can have a transformative impact in a few years, believe me."

Find more posts about this below:

• Arab women cry for end to harassment
• Egyptian women refused to be silenced by assaults
• Sexual harassment in Egypt is reality
• Sexually harassing Egypt's revolution
• The fight even made the front page of USA Today

Jan 17, 2011 - Whispers of a demonstration

One year ago today, 49-year-old restaurateur Abdou Abdel Moneim Gaafa set himself ablaze outside the Egyptian parliament. A stark reminder of the young vegetable seller whose self-immolation weeks earlier catalyzed an uprising in Tunisia, the question inevitably arose: will this be Egypt’s Mohamed Bouazizi?

Egypt remained silent.

“Some… predict Tunisia is but the first of the tyrannical [Arab] regimes to fall,” I wrote at BikyaMasr.com on January 17, 2011. “Others see little chance that Egyptians, typically apathetic when it comes to politics, will be stirred to action.”

There was talk. Analysis. Articles in newspapers – but no revolution. No uprising. Not even one single demonstration.

The next day I wrote, “Egyptians are still too afraid of their government and its security forces… to go to the streets in the numbers that a revolution requires.”

After a year of watching Egyptians’ apparent inability to act, I was already somewhat jaded. I suggested that Gaafa’s act would join Khaled Said on a long list of painful sores for the Egyptian people, but would not be enough to stir action.

Three nights earlier Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali had fled Tunisia. I was at an Open Mic in Cairo when the news broke. The crowd buzzed. In between performances there were whispers of, “Did you hear??” and “Is it true?!”

Some couldn’t peel their eyes from Twitter applications or frantically searched for news updates on their mobile phones. Others – including myself – relied on text message updates from friends following the news at home.

Young people in my circle of friends were frustrated, but many more remained apathetic even as they praised Tunisians’ courage.

“No one will move,” wrote one young Egyptian woman on Facebook. “We are not Tunis.”

It seemed she was right. Egyptians were angry – at their government, at their police, at growing inequality, at their own inaction – but it seemed they were not yet angry enough.

I remember so well the frustration, the yearning in the voices of my friends as they talked about Tunisia and how they wished Egypt would be next. Even the boldest and most optimistic hardly dared to dream that Egypt would rise up - but they did dream. They dreamt and they talked and they planned, and there were whispers of a demonstration on January 25.

And then, just one week later, Egypt rose in all her glory and fury.

New series: Looking back at Egypt's revolution

One year ago today I wrote one of my favorite blog posts – Spiced tea, social norms, and me. One year ago today, no one was talking about politics. I, the young foreign journalist, was the one explaining to my Egyptian friends the requirements to run for president and what, exactly, the Emergency Law said.

One year ago, it would have been unthinkable to sit in a trendy Cairo café and find BBC Arabic on the television.

It’s amazing how much can change in a year.

Outwardly, it’s easy to overlook the changes. In many ways, things seem to be as they always were. The traffic is as bad as ever, young people still have to go to school and take exams, there’s still sexual harassment on the streets. The blog post I wrote last year about social norms I could write again today.

Yet many things have changed. There are Egyptian flags everywhere, every Egyptian knew when parliamentary elections were happening, and the cover of state-run Al-Ahram newspaper doesn’t boast a picture of three-decade ruler Hosni Mubarak on the front page every morning.

A year ago, the only people talking about a ‘revolution’ were those watching Tunisia and the handful of Egyptians who, some for months and others for decades, had been trying to bring political and social change to Egypt.

Among them were the April 6 Youth Movement, the Kefaya Movement, Sheyfenkom, and We Are All Khaled Said. There were individuals, as well – popular public figure Gameela Ismail, journalist Hossam al-Hamalawy, and young activists such as Asmaa Mahfouz, Israa Abdelfattah, and Ahmed Maher.

Now there are a thousand more names: Wael Ghonim, Ramy Essam, Alaa Abdel Fattah (a long-time activist, but only recently well-known), Amr Hamzawy.

On January 25, 2011 I stood in Tahrir Square with Hamalawy. He told me he always knew there would be a revolution.

Over the next few weeks, I intend to post a series looking back on the revolution, its aftermath, and its future. Whether you're looking for more insight into the events surrounding the revolution, a different perspective, or just want to revisit those earth-shaking 18 days, I will show you Egypt's revolution through my eyes.

I will share with you how I crossed paths with names both big and small – Ayman Nour, Mohamed el-Baradei, and many others. Look forward to text, pictures, video, and sound bites of Egypt's January 25 Revolution.

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:

Egypt youth say NO to the SCAF

The Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) has been in charge of Egypt’s administration for 101 days.

Today, Egypt’s young revolutionaries are calling for Egyptians to fight the army-imposed media blackout of the military. They have called on Egyptians to blog, tweet, and post anything which breaks the silence on the military’s violations of human and civil rights. They are trying to create a united front in an attempt to open the scene to frank discussion of the military, and to stop what they see as the military’s escalating violations.

Hundreds of Egyptians have answered the call. Twitter is bursting with tweets and posts tagged with ‘#NoSCAF’ about the military, its violations, and what should happen next.

Activist Mona Seif, one of the first to call for the ‘NO SCAF’ campaign, tweeted early this morning: “Waking up to an internet flooded with posts exposing #SCAF is just amazing.”

“If the SCAF wants to ‘punish’ us for ‘criticizing the military’ and ‘spreading rumors,’ then they will have to arrest hundreds of netizens,” wrote Egyptian activist Ramy Raoof via Twitter.

Journalist and blogger Mohamed Abdelfattah said, “Today the Egyptian blogosphere sends a message: WE ARE NOT SATISFIED WITH THE MILITARY COUNCIL.” He has also compiled a list of blog posts against the SCAF: as of 2pm, 140 bloggers had written posts against the military council.

“Blog. Tweet. Post. Be Free. Evaluate the #SCAF today. This is being documented,” tweeted Ahmed Abdulhassan.

Indeed, an Al-Jazeera English producer tweeted in the morning that he was compiling an article about today’s campaign. The tweets of Mosa’ab Elshamy are among the tweets he plans to include. Mosa’ab was arrested by the Egyptian army last week and only recently released. His tweets about what he witnessed in custody are poignant, disturbing, and certainly revealing.

Egyptians have entered what is likely to be a long war, of which the fall of the Mubarak regime was only one battle.

It is a war in which the uniforms are ambiguous, observers are constantly switching sides, and the majority of the combatants have no idea what the strategy is, or, indeed, who it is they are fighting.

Many are fighting undefined notions of the “former regime” or the “counter-revolution.”

Among the most ambiguous players on the scene is the Egyptian army. Hailed as saviors by the vast majority of Egyptians when they swept into Cairo on January 28, ending a long 'Day of Rage' of bloody battles between the police and the people, the army was then charged with the country’s administration when former president Hosni Mubarak stepped down on February 11.

Immediately some began to wonder if the military – and its Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) – would ever give up power. They wondered if, in fact, the SCAF would attempt to turn a true people’s revolution into a military coup d’état.

The army has now been in power for 101 days. Each day, mistrust has grown between the people and the army.

Stories of human rights abuses by the army are increasing. Citizens are calling out more frequently to end military trials of civilians. And most of Egypt’s young activists are well aware that Egyptian media is forbidden to write anything about the military without permission.

Yesterday, the SCAF released a statement on its Facebook page – created to communicate with the Egyptian people – saying unidentified websites were publishing false information about the army in an attempt to fuel chaos in the country and to divide the army from the people.

(The fact that the army releases all of its communiqués via Facebook is a story in and of itself.)

Egyptians have faced battle after battle in their fight for a secular, democratic country which will offer a better future – a “New Egypt” – for them and their children.

The war did not begin on January 25, 2011.

For many, it began decades earlier. Human rights lawyer Amir Salem participated in Egypt’s student demonstrations in the 1970s, and was arrested in the same Tahrir Square in which, thirty years later, he watched Egyptians gather by the millions to demand freedom. Salem has been arrested nine times but has tirelessly fought for the rights of prisoners, for activists, and was once the lawyer for Ayman Nour.

Prominent opposition figure Ayman Nour first began warning of the dangers of a continued Emergency Law twenty years ago, when he was a law student. As a young parliamentarian ten years later, he dared the Prime Minister to eat a piece of the rock-hard bread distributed to Egypt’s poor during a bread crisis.

Nour is one of millions of Egyptians who suffered under the hand of Hosni Mubarak: he spent four years in the infamous ‘Torah Prison’ for daring to challenge him.

Now, it is Mubarak’s cronies who are behind the bars of Torah Prison: those businessmen, politicians, and ministers who supported a corrupt regime which drained Egypt of its resources and dignity to provide greater and greater opulence to a smaller and smaller portion of the population. Even Mubarak’s sons are imprisoned.

But the battles are becoming increasingly hazy. Who is on what side? What is the so-called “counter-revolution,” who is behind it, and how can Egyptians unite against it? Everyone from young activists to political figureheads to religious leaders have called for Egyptians to unite together against the ‘counter-revolution’ – and then blamed each other of being part of it.

Egyptian State Security intimidated by two women

Our female 'babysitter'

Today was somewhat fascinating from an objective perspective, if intensely boring for those actually involved.

I spent three and a half hours standing in the street with prominent public figure and activist Gameela Ismail this afternoon, after we were prevented from reaching our intended destination by Egyptian State Security. While droves of young football fans were rioting in Zamalek and over 1,000 demonstrators (according to the accounts of others) were gathered near Abdeen Palace, Gameela and I were apparently important enough to have the attention of more than a dozen high-level security officers and the divided attention of around 80 uniformed and plain-clothes police. Who knew two women needed so many babysitters!

Gameela and I reached a side street leading to Abdeen Square - where the President lives, in Abdeen Palace - around 4:15pm. We were stopped just steps from the square itself by a handful of plainclothes officers. They instantly recognized Gameela, who is something of an icon to Egyptians (wife of former Presidential candidate Ayman Nour, Gameela has become an advocate for women's, human, and civil rights, and is extremely active in fighting the regime). Within moments, the number of officers around us multiplied and we were also joined by three women, one in uniform.

Over the next three and a half hours, our babysitters consistantly refused to let us enter Abdeen Square. They tried to get us to go around by means of a narrow alleyway, but Gameela and I were smart enough not to fall for that. Uniformed and plainclothes police diverted pedestrians, and one high-ranking plainclothes officer even told passerby not to look at us.

While being kept from the demonstration - which we could neither see nor hear - was frustrating, I did find it telling that State Security found it necessary to spend so many resources on two women, especially after it became clear that other demonstrators were not coming to our location. Yet our security remained tight, particularly after Gameela managed to move about 5 meters closer to the square when our babysitters were distracted. We were closely surrounded by a group of fifteen uniformed and plainclothes police, and the uniformed female officer and another plainclothes office joined us in our little circle. At least 30 other State Security members watched us from within 30 meters, with others spread beyond that.

Around 7:30pm we learned, via phone and Twitter, that the day's protest was winding down. A few minutes later Gameela told the lead babysitter 'salam w'alaikom' and we walked past our guards away from the square, back towards the car, and left.

What I have to wonder is why we were so interesting. Even if the large numbers of state security were mere coincidence, why was it necessary to keep us so surrounded, particularly when we were still clearly in the eye of passerby? Why was state security so intent to keep Gameela from joining the protest, when other figures such as Ayman Nour and Hamdeen Sabbahi were already there? Is Egypt's State Security really that scared of Gameela Ismail?

Brutal death of young Egyptian raises questions

Egyptian bloggers and independent and opposition media have been widely publicizing the death of 28-year-old Khaled Said over the past few days.

Last Sunday, June 6, 2010 Khaled died. According to most interpretations of the story, Khaled was brutally murdered by two plainclothes police officers who confronted him in broad daylight at an Internet cafe in Alexandria. This article in the New York Times reports that according to Khaled's family the young businessman was killed because he was in possession of a video which clearly showed the two officers who assaulted him dividing the spoils of a drug bust amongst a group of people including themselves (the video can be viewed here). The article says:

The officers slammed [Khaled's] head against a table, dragged him outside, smashed his head against a metal door and continued to beat him even after he was dead.

Ahmed Badawy, an Egyptian activist and acquaintance of mine, went to the Internet cafe on Friday and interviewed its owner. The owner revealed that Khaled had been clearly targeted by the men who assaulted him, who blocked the doors of the cafe to prevent anyone entering.

Khaled's body was dumped outside his home later that evening.

The government's position:

The official statement from the Egyptian Ministry of Interior calls the story a "malicious allegation" which may "deliberately omit all the facts and persist in promoting lies and misinformation." The statement says Khaled swallowed a bag of narcotics and consequently died of asphyxiation. It also reveals that Khaled had been charged with two misdemeanors, stealing and possession of a weapon, in addition to harassment of a woman and dodging military service (compulsory in Egypt). Egyptian activists have questioned the reality of the charges.

The Ministry's statement does not address the dumping of Khaled's body outside his home, nor does it explain the disturbing images of his mangled skull. The images, which are extremely graphic and should be viewed with discretion, have been widely circulated and can be found here.

An article in government-run Al-Gomhuria insists the injuries to Khaled's face were caused during autopsy when his throat was cut open to remove the packet of hashish he had swallowed. The article calls the images' appearance on Facebook a "big surprise." It is a difficult explanation to accept after viewing the gruesome images.

Popular outcry

"If you oppose the government in Egypt, one of three things happens: one, you disappear. Two, you end up dead. Or three, you disappear and then you end up dead," an Egyptian friend cynically commented to me in casual conversation one day. To an extent, Khaled Said's story fits the model - and consequently is no different from others.

Yet Khaled's story is also fundamentally different.

Khaled's story has been publicized. Khaled "died amidst the shock and silence of everyone," wrote Ayman Nour on Thursday. Nour, along with Egyptian paper el-Shorouq, was the first to break the story nearly four days after Khaled's death. Since then, it has flooded Egyptian activist circles, independent media, and Facebook inboxes. There is no longer silence surrounding Khaled's death.

The incident has drawn an outcry from Egyptians, including many who are normally inactive in politics. A Facebook group called My Name is Khaled Mohammed Said has drawn more than 110,000 members over the past three days - the group grew by nearly 3,000 members in the time it took me to write this post - and an event calling for a protest in front of the Ministry of Interior on Sunday, June 13 has nearly 5,000 confirmed attendees.

Scores of Egyptians have changed their profile pictures to images of Khaled, such as the one at the top of this post.

A protest yesterday in Alexandria drew around 1,000 people according to blogger and activist Mohamed Abdelfattah, who attended the protest, and well-known blogger Zeinobia says police dared not come close to the demonstrators for fear of increasing their anger.

"This could happen to anyone."

Despite a general consensus that Egyptian police were responsible for his death, Khaled's story still falls outside my friend's generalization: Khaled was not political. According to the New York Times article, Khaled was intent on publicizing the video he had come to possess, but he was not an activist. He was not opposing the government.

Khaled walked beside the wall, as an Egyptian would say, referring to one who minds his own business.

Despite "walking beside the wall," Khaled was killed by a police force imbued with the power of the Emergency Law, a cause of concern for other young Egyptians. "He didn't look for trouble, yet corruption killed him anyway," said my friend Hatem, a 22-year-old Egyptian currently studying for his Master's degree. "Maybe they've done worse things before, but this directly threatens me: this is a young guy who comes from almost the same background as me and most of my friends. He does the same things that I do. He stays out of trouble. And yet - this. You know?" he told me.

For Hatem, Khaled's death means "this could happen to anyone."

Questions which remain

Nearly a week after Khaled's death, many questions remain. How did Khaled come into possession of the video for which he was supposedly killed? The video was clearly filmed by someone trusted in the room, someone who almost certainly was not Khaled. So was he given the video, or did he somehow happen across it?

What will the government's response be? Will the officers in question be charged with corruption, if not murder? Or will they walk away unscathed? According to a post by Mohamed Abdelfattah, this was not the first act of brutality committed by one of the men who assaulted Khaled (please note, link contains graphic images).

It would seemingly be easier to let the officers take the fall for Khaled's death in the face of the current media onslaught, but there has been no indication thus far that the government intends to make such a move. Why is the regime letting Khaled's death become a rallying point, instead of meting out some form of justice which might placate activists? In some ways this is only the most recent incident hinting at growing discord within the regime.

Khaled's death is drawing attention. What will Egyptians do about it? There have been calls of "revolution" since Kefaya's first demonstration in 2005, but the said revolution has yet to materialize. Even so, 2010 has seen increasing numbers of protests and increasing numbers of protesters. This week, Egyptians already angered by Israel's assault on the aid convoy headed for Gaza quickly took up the cause of one of their own. If Alexandria's demonstration was any indication, tomorrow's protest in Cairo could bring thousands of Egyptians to the streets.

What's next, Egypt?

For more information in English, please visit:

Amnesty

Human Rights First

Global Voices

Al-Masry Al-Youm

Traveler Within blog

Another protest...

More later, but here's a brief for now:

• Around 1,000 protesters showed up - pretty impressive number
• Reps of: Kefaya, al-Ghad, April 6, Karama, National Association for Change, + others
• Multiple protesters were pulled out of the security boundaries by police and beaten
• More of the political elite present: Ayman Nour, George Ishak, Hamdeen Sabbahi, and other MB/ Socialist/ liberal leaders
• ElBaradei nowhere to be found, as usual
• Ayman Nour and al-Ghad Chairman bodily pulled an unconscious protester from under the feet of police
• Complaint of police brutality taken directly to a judge by Ayman Nour and others

Will give you a more comprehensive report later.

UPDATE (14/4): I would like to clarify a few issues from yesterday:

• First, Ayman Nour's son was NOT harassed OR beaten by police. These rumors resulted from a misunderstanding and despite being widely promoted via Twitter and other means they are NOT true. Noor is perfectly fine and safe.
• Bahaa Sabr, who was arrested yesterday and beaten severely by police, is currently in the hospital. Twitter story confirmed by multiple bloggers, although it has yet to be reported elsewhere.

My run-in with Egyptian state security

Today I witnessed a fraction of what Egyptian activists face.

Today is the second anniversary of the April 6, 2008 protests, which were the first simultaneous nation-wide protests in Egypt. The 6 April Youth, who became known after the protests, planned another strike for today. It was supposed to be a peaceful protest march from Tahrir Square to the Egyptian Parliament a few blocks away.

The Government was ready and in no mood to deal with protesters.

Another American journalist and I met at Ayman Nour's apartment in Zamalek at 10am. As we prepared to head downtown, one of Nour's people gave us a few suggestions: don't wear gold jewelry, and memorize someone's number in case you are arrested and they confiscate your phone. I rolled up my sleeve and wrote a few numbers - without names - on my arm. My friend did the same. My roommate and her roommate - non-political friends - and my editor.

Police standing outside the Journalists Syndicate in downtown Cairo

As our taxi neared Talat Harb street, the government's preparations were obvious. Uniformed police lined the streets. Large green military trucks were parked end to end on side streets, as many as eight in one place, each full of soldiers. The atmosphere was already tense.

Our initial destination point was the al-Ghad party headquarters on Talat Harb street. Before going to the headquarters, however, my companions and I decided to take a look at what was happening in Tahrir.

At around 11am we were walking from Talat Harb through Tahrir Square in downtown Cairo (where the Egyptian Museum and the American University are located). My friend and I stayed a dozen meters in front of our al-Ghad friends, figuring we would have more freedom to snap pictures as 'tourists' if we weren't associated with them.

As it turns out, that wasn't really the case.

I snapped a few pictures of the police lining Tahrir as we entered the square and then turned my camera off. My friend panned her camera around the square and toward the police. Suddenly, three angry men were coming straight toward us. It was immediately clear that these were plain-clothes security, and they were not happy.

Riot police in Tahrir Square

"Give me your camera," said the man in charge. "Give it to me. Let me see." He roughly grabbed my friend's camera, trying to pull it away from her.

"You can't do that!" She said, pulling away from him.

In the few seconds the exchange took, we were surrounded by plain-clothes security. One grabbed my arm, attempting to pull me away from my friend, while the first attempted to pull her camera away again. She held onto her camera and I held on to her, and we tried to walk away. Security blocked our path. "I'm an American citizen! You can't do this to me!" my friend shouted. The security pressed in closer. "Somebody help me! I'm an American citizen!" We were drawing looks from passerby. One of the security men waved his arm and we were completely encircled.

After a few intense minutes of arguing, we were ushered against the wall of the building behind us (Hardees). We were less conspicuous there, but we were still making a scene and the police were not pleased.

They also didn't believe a word that came out of my friend's mouth. They weren't terribly interested in me, possibly because they hadn't seen me taking pictures, but they interrogated my friend endlessly. Where are you from? What is your job? Why are you here? They didn't believe her story - that she was a student and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time (later, when we saw the same security men in a coffee shop around the corner, the head man said flatly to my friend: "You are a liar").

Finally a female security officer in uniform came over (this is the first time female officers have been deployed during a protest, and later in the day they proved just as brutal as the men). She went through our bags piece by piece. The first man had already taken a copy of my friend's passport (which we never saw again), but I had no identification on me. Looking back, I'm glad - they don't know who I am.

The whole time, my friend had been on the phone with our al-Ghad friends and others, letting them know that while we were being detained, we would be okay. Whatever happened, we did not want our al-Ghad friends to show up: if they did, our story about being in the wrong place at the wrong time would be shot. As it was, the officers were demanding to know who we were on the phone with. "Who is Badawy?" they demanded.

After another ten minutes or so, another plain-clothes officer arrived. He was better dressed and clearly had more authority than the officers who had been dealing with us so far. He was smiling as he ambled over.

"What is the problem?" he asked.

"I've been all over the world, and I've never had problems with the police!" fumed my friend.

"You still don't have trouble with the police," said the man, still smiling amiably. At this point I was shaking, half from nerves and half on purpose. He looked directly at me. "Why are you frightened?" he asked.

Eventually he 'explained' to us that there were demonstrations, and it was a security matter that we weren't allowed to take pictures. After a few more minutes of this back-and-forth, someone said, "okay okay, come this way." We were ushered around the corner onto another street, and when we looked behind us we realized we were no longer being accompanied by security. We were free to go, it seemed.

Needless to say, my friend and I were a bit shaken up. Our encounter with the police had been pretty intense.

What we faced was only a small taste of what Egyptian activists face: as Americans, the regime is less likely to physically harass us.

Even so, we knew going back to the protest was going to be a bad idea. We finally made the decision not to go back into Tahrir. We considered moving to the al-Ghad headquarters, but my friend had a bad feeling about it, and luckily we went with her gut: around the time we would have arrived, there was a confrontation with state security outside the headquarters when Ayman Nour and his supporters attempted to leave the building. They were eventually forced back inside and the door was barricaded for over three hours, with no one allowed out. Ayman Nour's eldest son was briefly detained by security, and the scratches and bruises on his neck are a testament to the way he was manhandled by the plain-clothes officers.

Noor Ayman Nour, eldest son of Ayman Nour, arrested near Talat Harb.
Photo by Al-Jazeera.

It's too soon to really say if the day was successful or not, but... here are some thoughts and facts:

• Over 80 persons were arrested and moved to the police station in Nasr City.
• There were violent confrontations between police and protesters in Tahrir and also outside the parliament; there were even female police beating female protesters, and two women sustained broken arms.
• More than 70 people were locked inside al-Ghad headquarters;
• Violent clashes occurred in Alexandria;
• Mobile phones and gold jewelry were confiscated by security around the parliament;
• ElBaradei was completely absent from the scene, and there is a possibility that this will hurt his reputation here. Already there has been much criticism on both Facebook and Twitter.

I'll get back to you on some of this soon... there's so much I want to say, I don't really know where to begin.

Breaking news: April 6 events

Will write more later, but for now, here's what's going on:

• more than 70 people arrested in Tahrir Square and in front of the Parliament
• more than 70 people locked inside al-Ghad headquarters on Talat Harb Square, including party leader Ayman Nour
• two al-Ghad members briefly detained, released, including the son of Ayman Nour
• Amnesty International member arrested
• people being beaten in Tahrir Square
• reports of sexual harassment and confiscation of mobile phones

State security is everywhere.

Labor Protest in Cairo

Today I covered a labor protest in downtown Cairo with a filmmaker friend. Egyptians are protesting for a higher minimum wage. The current minimum wage is 35 EGP, the equivalent of $7 USD per month, and was set in 1984s. Laborers are asking for a minimum wage of 1200 EGP, roughly $200 USD.

The following video was shot by my friend, Lillie Paquette.

Trading in Humans

In many areas of the world today, human body parts are bought and sold illegally. Sometimes without the consent of the donor. This is not a new issue but it has come to my attention in various ways recently. I can remember reading a news article three or four years ago about a woman somewhere in the developing world who woke up from a routine surgery to discover that while she was under anesthesia her husband had authorized the doctor to remove part of her kidney, which he (her husband) sold.

The incidents I wish to bring to your attention today are no less distressing. On the contrary, in some ways they are much worse.

Selling body parts in Egypt: An American friend who is currently attending grad school in Egypt recently wrote about an experience in a poor neighborhood on the fringe of Cairo. He is currently working with COFS, the Coalition for Organ-Failure Solutions. COFS is an NGO in Egypt which combats organ trafficking and the exploitation of the poor and refugees as a source of organ and tissue supplies. COFS has recently begun work on a documentary about the issue, and my friend's visit to the poor neighborhood was to conduct interviews for the documentary. Here is an excerpt from his blog:

Both interviews went as planned, first the husband, and then his wife. The husband at one point during the interview pulled up his shirt to reveal his scar from where they had cut to remove his kidney. The wife’s interview was a lot more distressing than her husband’s for Amr, as at one point he had to stop the interview because he started to breakdown. All I can say is that it was in this situation that I was fortunate enough not to know Arabic fluently to understand the procedures and horrific details of their experience.

Read the rest here.

Hunting Albinos: The second issue I wish to address here is one I have read about in the news recently, and that is the hunting of Albinos in Burundi. Witch doctors in Tanzania provide their customers with potions made from the body parts of albinos, which reputedly bring fortune in life, love, and business. Arms, Legs, and genitals are considered the most valuable, and reportedly fetch a lot of cash - as a result, albinos are being hunted for their parts. This is part of an account told to Al-Jazeera journalists at a safe house in Burundi:

Jeremiah began to tell us how one night his brother, Daniel, also an albino, was visited by their older non-albino brother, accompanied by a group of unfamiliar men.

That night Daniel was slaughtered by the older brother who sold his body parts for $240, Jeremiah later discovered.

"I saw my brother's dead body. All his limbs, arms and legs, were chopped off and gone. Afterwards my brother and my sister-in-law were overheard fighting over the money they had received selling his body parts.

"Furthermore, we have evidence that the murderers came through my older brother's compound and spent some time in his house discussing how they were going to kill him. I was lucky not be home at the time," Jeremiah said.

Jeremiah's story is not unique. To read more about the situation of albinos in Burundi and Tanzania, go here and here.


Human trafficking is not an issue which is new on the international scene. Quite the contrary - human trafficking is frequently the subject of political activism, government programs, and NGO attention. There are many organizations which strive to end the international child sex trade or try to prevent cross-border trade which lands illegal immigrants in sweat shops - or worse - in foreign countries. Even illegal organ trading is not a new subject - but it is one which seems to receive far too little attention.

There are many issues here, most of which are not simple or easy to solve. Not only are humans being hunted for body parts to be used in magic potions, some people are even driven to selling their own body parts. Poverty-stricken people in places such as Egypt are being exploited for their organs and tissue. How is one forced to make such a choice, to sell one's own kidney, for example? If you are reading this blog, chances are you are lucky enough not to be one of those people. What if you weren't so lucky?