Uncertainty shadows the eve of Egypt’s elections

On the eve of historic elections, Egyptians are wary.  No one has any idea who will win the country’s first post-Mubarak presidential race. And many of the Egyptians who aren’t boycotting the election also aren’t voting for any candidate.

They’re voting against all the others.

New post at UCLA's The Generation. View the full article here: Uncertainty shadows the eve of Egypt’s elections

Ayman Nour pardoned; will contest 2012 presidential race

Egypt’s military ruler has officially pardoned a prominent liberal politician, paving the way for him to contest upcoming presidential elections. The move negates a 2006 forgery conviction that would otherwise prevent Ayman Nour from his second presidential bid.

"The decision restores rights to where they belong and this is one of the results of the revolution," Nour told Reuters.

In 2005, Nour placed second in Egypt’s first multi-candidate presidential election, receiving around 10 percent of the votes. Many saw Nour’s subsequent imprisonment as punishment for daring to challenge then-president Hosni Mubarak.

"The military council issued a presidential decree giving Ayman Nour the right to elect and nominate himself (in presidential elections), practice all his political rights and drop all penalties against him," Nour posted on his Twitter account on Wednesday.

The announcement of Nour’s pardon came just 10 days before the application period for presidential nominations will close.

Nour, 48, began speaking out against Mubarak’s regime two decades ago. He has already announced his intention to contest the upcoming presidential race.

Elections are expected May 23-24, 2012.

Nour can confirm his nomination in one of three ways: with 30,000 recommendations from citizens in at least 15 different governorates, with recommendations from at least 30 members of parliament, or by registering as the candidate of a recognized political party by April 8.

Nour’s new party, al-Ghad al-Thawra, won two seats in recent parliamentary elections as part of an alliance with the Muslim Brotherhood-affiliated Freedom and Justice Party.

Last year the Cairo Court of Cassation rejected Nour’s appeal to reconsider the 2006 forgery conviction that sent him to prison for five years. In 2005, Nour was accused of forging roughly 1,000 of the signatures submitted to form al-Ghad Party in 2004. Nour has consistently maintained his innocence and insisted the charges and conviction were politically motivated.

Under the Egyptian penal code, a person convicted of forgery, considered a crime of dishonor, is forbidden from participating in political life for five years from the end of his sentence. Thus, without the pardon Nour would be forbidden from running for public office or chairing a syndicate or political party until 2016, five years after his original sentence should have ended.

When Nour’s request for an appeal was denied, his supporters and other members of the political community called on the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) to pardon Nour.

“It is illogical that Ayman Nour is prevented from practicing his [election] nomination right while remnants of the former regime can,” fellow presidential contender and al-Karama Party head Hamdeen Sabbahi said at the time, calling on SCAF to pardon Nour.

Some have already come out in support of Nour after this most recent development, but others worry that his candidacy could further splinter what is likely to be a divided liberal vote.

Elections round 2 so far...

By 2pm, there are a few things we know about the second round of parliamentary elections in Egypt today:

1. 283 seats, more than half the total number of seats in parliament, are being contested today (meaning no candidate for those seats won the 50%+1 majority needed in last Sunday's elections).
2. Of those seats, 188 are being contested between members of the same party - the ruling National Democratic Party (NDP). 114 are being contested outright between NDP members, and another 74 are being contested between NDP members and independents running under the party's platform.
3. There are rumors that in an attempt to fix its massive over-rigging last week, the goverment is rigging votes in favor of non-NDP candidates this time around. According to tweets and Al-Ahram's English online portal, an NDP candidate in Dakahleya's Aga district has withdrawn from today's runoff citing vote-rigging in favor of his competitor, a Tagammu candidate.
4. Voter turnout is, as expected, noticeably lower than it was last week. According to the High Elections Commission (HEC), voter turnout last Sunday was 35% (There is strong suspicion that the number is vastly inflated. In Qasr el-Nil, a strategic district in downtown Cairo, only about 8.5% of registered voters cast ballots). We'll see what the "official" numbers are, but voter turnout might hover around 10% at the most today.
5. Reports of violence, vote-rigging, polling stations opening late, representatives and monitors not being allowed into polling stations, and other irregularities have already been reported.
6. Only 2 of 9 Wafd party run-off candidates headed the party's decision to boycott the second round of elections. Wafd party officials say those who disobeyed the party's order will be stripped of their party membership.
7. Even if every independent and opposition candidate won their seat today - including those of the Wafd and Muslim Brotherhood who are boycotting - the NDP would still control approximately 80% of the seats in Parliament.

That's it for now, folks. Tune in later for more updates.

Egypt: On the Eve of Elections

Gameela Ismail campaigning before elections

Tomorrow Egypt will hold parliamentary elections. The world is watching and the government is ready. Reports of irregularities are already making local and international news. Everyone wonders what will happen - will the opposition win any seats? What about the Muslim Brotherhood? Perhaps most importantly: will the vote be fair?

It's important for observers to realize what appears on Egypt's surface and what happens under it are two entirely different things.

One of the best pieces of advice I received back when I was doing research for a capstone thesis on current Egyptian politics was to try to be as Egyptian as possible when looking at what was happening around me. It sounds simple, but it is both difficult and vitally important. It's like looking at an orange and breaking it open to find an onion.

Here are a few quick facts about Egyptian politics:

1. Egypt is a dictatorship. Egypt's 82-year-old president, Hosni Mubarak, has held the position for thirty years.  This makes him Egypt's third-longest ruler ever, including the pharaohs of old. One way Mubarak holds onto his power is through the army. Egypt has lived under Emergency Law - essentially military rule - since Anwar Sadat was assassinated thirty years ago.
2. Egypt does not have a pluralistic political system. Many outsiders look at Egyptians politics, see the names of many political parties, and come to the conclusion that there is a vibrant, pluralistic political life. In reality, nearly all of Egypt's "opposition" parties have deals with the government whereby they act like opposition for the media in return for certain political or other benefits.
3. Egyptian elections are neither free nor fair. Egyptians know this. It contributes to the extreme apathy most Egyptians feel. Additionally, Egyptian politicians buy votes. Outright. Egyptians know this as well, and some even call candidates to find out who will pay the most for their vote.
4. Egyptians are terrified of their government. There are exceptions of course, but many Egyptians would literally start shaking in their boots if someone confronted them with criticism of the government. They whisper that there is always someone listening - and usually, they're right.

Gearing up for tomorrow's elections, the regime has already made it difficult for candidates or observers to expect a fair race. In 2005, the elections were spread out over a period of time to ensure each polling station would be overseen by a judge. This year, all the elections will take place in one day - meaning there is no possible way for judicial oversight.

Secondly, the government waited until a month before the election to announce its official date. It also stipulated that campaigning would only be permitted starting fourteen days before the election. The campaign period was strategically scheduled during a major, week-long Islamic holiday.

More recently, the government has stated that journalists will need special passes to report on the elections and that Egyptian civil society has the right to observe the elections, but not the right to monitor them.

Getting around the restrictions

There is always an exception to the rule. In the case of this year's parliamentary elections, that exception may well be independent candidate Gameela Ismail (for more about Gameela, check out my earlier post about campaigning with her).

"I am outside the regime's calculations," Gameela told me a few weeks ago, just after she had submitted her papers to run for parliament in Qasr el-Nil, a strategic district in downtown Cairo. To outsiders, it may seem impossible an impossible battle.

Yet Gameela may have exactly what it takes to get around the regime's restrictions. Gameela has battled Egyptian State Security for years and knows exactly what it is capable of.

The combination of Gameela's knowledge of State Security's tricks and their strong desire to keep her at arm's length could serve her well in Sunday's polls. Gameela knows how to deal with State Security and State Security knows better than to make her mad. She'll sit in their offices or keep them standing in the street until she gets what she wants - I've witnessed both tactics.

Over the past few days, many independent and opposition candidates have found their petitions to have representatives in the polling stations on Election Day denied outright. Gameela had a day-long verbal battle with State Security in Qasr el-Nil, but at the end of the day she got what she wanted: permission for her representatives to be in the polling stations.

(Representatives are allowed to remain inside the polling stations to keep an eye on the ballot boxes and watch for irregularities.)

Will it be enough to win her the election? Maybe not, but she has a fighting chance.

Campaigning with Gameela: Day Two

Gameela speaks to residens of the poverty-stricken
Bulaq neighborhood

A dozen young men and women spread down the street, handing out pamphlets and holding large, black-white-and-red posters. Not far behind, a woman with bright, smiling eyes followed, shaking hands and speaking with shopkeepers and residents. Four television cameras and a half-dozen journalists and photographers observed her every move, capturing her interactions on film.

Yesterday was my second day following the parliamentary campaign of prominent public figure Gameela Ismail. Gameela is running for parliament in Qasr el-Nil, a key district in downtown Cairo, against seasoned ruling-party politician Hisham Mostafa Khalil (Khalil's father was once Prime Minister of Egypt).

Gameela has seen and experienced more in the way of dirty politics than most Americans or Europeans could imagine. She learned how to deal with campaign tricks when she ran for Shura Council in 2001, and again when she ran Ayman Nour’s presidential campaign in 2005. When Nour was imprisoned under false pretenses, Gameela managed to raise their two sons and keep the political party running for the next four years, despite constant harassment from the government. She received phone calls late at night threatening the safety of her children, and was even caught inside the party headquarters when a rival faction attempted to burn them down. Gameela survived these trials and became known and respected throughout Egypt for her strength and courage.

After everything she has faced in her fight for democracy and civil rights in Egypt, Gameela is running for parliament against a strong government force. Why? Because she refuses to stand by and watch a parliamentary campaign with no worthy candidates in the district where she has spent her entire life.

And she thinks she has a chance to win.

Gameela speaks to media outside the
Gezira School in Zamalek

The morning began outside Cilantro cafe in Zamalek at 7:30am. More than twenty State Security officers were prowling the area when Gameela’s car pulled up. As her son and sister-in-law covered the car with election posters, Gameela spoke to the already waiting media – CNN, another television crew, German and Japanese reporters – and a half-dozen of her supporters.

The morning was spent visiting schools in the Zamalek area. Soon, a total of four television cameras were following Gameela – CNN, BBC, and two programs from Dream TV – in addition to reporters and a dozen of Gameela’s supporters.

The group then headed downtown to the Mugamma. The Mugamma is a giant, Soviet-looking building smack in the middle of Midan Tahrir, one of Cairo’s most important squares (also home to the Egyptian Museum and the old campus of the American University in Cairo). Gameela considers the Mugamma to be the biggest mark of the State – and she is right. Everyone, from Egyptians needing identity cards to foreigners obtaining visas, must pass through the Mugamma’s doors at least once during their lives in Egypt.

Outside the entrance the thirty or so people now in Gameela's entourage set up camp – supporters passed out Gameela’s pamphlets while reporters filmed Gameela’s interactions with security outside the Mugamma, who were reluctant to let any of the group inside the building and were extremely uncomfortable with the presence of TV cameras. Finally Gameela entered the building with a dozen or so supporters, but without the television crews.

Hanging Gameela's poster on a
wall inside the Mugamma

She headed straight for the Ministry of Education, where she knocked on every door and introduced herself to everyone she encountered. Even here, in this important Government building, the people were receptive to her. They hung her posters on their walls. “The people were so brave,” Gameela said later. “They spoke up loudly against the government.”

Eventually the group made its way out of the Mugamma and moved to one of the poorest areas in Gameela’s district. That is where my story began – as Gameela moved through the streets speaking with potential voters. It’s a hard battle here: the people like Gameela, and many would support her. But unlike the other candidates, Gameela refuses to buy votes.

“A few days ago, this woman’s sister called me,” Gameela told the group, referring to a woman she had just met. “She said, we like you, we want to support you. How much are you paying?”

Gameela's poster hangs over a
shop in Bulaq

The woman's query literally meant, how much money will you give us to vote for you. In many ways it is endemic corruption. Candidates offer poor Egyptians 500 Egyptian Pounds – less than US $100 – for their votes. Half is paid up front, the other half after they take a picture of their ballots with their mobile phones. Then, whoever wins disappears for the next five years.

Gameela wants to change this. “I want the people to understand that I will not pay them for their votes, but that if I win I will work for them for free for the next five years,” she said.

It will be a difficult battle, and only days remain before the elections take place. Bizarrely, the Egyptian government only allows fourteen days of campaigning before elections take place.

Surrounded by a mixed group of journalists, supporters, and potential voters, Gameela pauses to look up at someone speaking to her from their window. Behind her, a young man holds her election poster high, creating a backdrop. She smiles, and the expression on her face echoes the one on her poster – she is looking toward the future with hope, and perhaps that is the key that will help her effect her vision for Qasr el-Nil, and perhaps, eventually, for her country.

Thousands gather peacefully in Alexandria

A long day is winding to a close in Alexandria, yet Ayman Nour's waterfront apartment is still buzzing. Media, friends, al-Ghad members, and activists fill the reception. Tea, cake, and croissants are devoured by the exhausted group as Nour appears for yet another interview. There is laughter, and smiles on everyone's faces despite the exhaustion.

There were no arrests today. There was no police brutality. And oh, was there a protest.

I've heard estimates that there were 4,000 people at the Sidi Gabr Mosque in Alexandria today. I can't offer my own estimates, as I spent the first half of the demonstration smack in the middle of a sea of people. I can, however, testify that it was indeed a sea of people.

Popular opposition figure Mohamed El-Baradei made a brief appearance at the mosque. Ayman Nour, George Ishak, and Hamdeen Sabbahi were there as well, along with literally thousands of Egyptians.

Around 7:30pm this evening, I watched at least 800 people march single-file down the Mediterranean city's sea-side main road. Men, women, young, old. Entire families, complete with small children. Most of them wore black.

El-Baradei again made his typical momentary appearance, and Ayman Nour walked the sidewalks of the corniche with the silent demonstrators for more than an hour.

The death of Khaled Said has brought everyday Egyptians to the streets. The usual group of 200 activists has swollen. And in Alex, unpoliticized youth have found a new means of protest: standing silently along the corniche, wearing black, and praying for Khaled's soul.

Today has been an exhausting day, and it is time I head back to Cairo.

April 6, 2010: Ayman Nour's Commentary and Call for Solidarity

Ayman Nour recounts the events at al-Ghad headquarters on April 6, 2010 and calls for solidarity from the international community:

A Day with Ayman Nour and al-Ghad

Ayman Nour walking to the al-Ghad Party headquarters in Alexandria

Yesterday I found myself smack in the middle of Egyptian politics.

After a last-minute invitation from a new friend, I hopped on a mini-bus at 9am for the three-hour trip from Cairo to Alexandria. Thankfully the trip was uneventful, and the bus was even air-conditioned. Around 1pm we found ourselves sitting at a beach-front cafe sipping fresh juices (strawberry for me, guava for her) and reveling in the clean air and smell of the sea. We took a long stroll down the corniche (the road which runs along the water) and found ourselves outside Ayman Nour's apartment at quarter to three - 15 minutes early! (Apparently neither of us have gotten back on Egyptian time yet.)

(Quick background: Ayman Nour is a well-known figurehead of opposition politics in Egypt. Formerly a member of the Wafd party, Nour left to form al-Ghad (Tomorrow) party in 2004. Al-Ghad was officially licensed just in time for Nour to run for President in 2005, Egypt's first multi-candidate presidential elections since Nasser's revolution in 1952. Nour came in second to president Hosni Mubarak, who has been in power since 1981. Officially Nour received 8% of the vote, but there is speculation that the actual percentage was much higher. Following the election Nour was convicted on forgery charges largely recognized as politically motivated and spent nearly four years in prison. He was released in February of 2009.)

We relaxed in the living room for a while, and eventually the five of us - myself, my friend, Nour, his secretary in Alexandria, and another Ghad party member - left for lunch. Nour nodded out the window to a guard station as we piled into the car. The four men at the station were watching us, and while three of them didn't seem particularly concerned the fourth was looking between us and his phone. He was letting his superior know we were leaving the house, Nour said.

Anyone who argues that Nour's popularity has fallen since his release from prison last year (and multiple tabloid-esque stories in the media) has not seen him in public. From the moment we entered the mall, where we stopped for lunch with other al-Ghad members, the flow of people stopping to speak with Nour, shake his hand, or take a picture with him did not abate until we got back in the car to go home at the end of the night. Men and women young and old approached him, all with smiles and handshakes and waiting camera phones.

Eventually we made our way to the al-Ghad party headquarters for the Alexandria chapter. It was election day at the party - there were two issues on the ballot, and a petition as well. The first issue on the ballot was the deputy election (4 available seats, 5 candidates). The other, a referendum to confirm the party's nomination of Ayman Nour as presidential candidate. The office, the entranceway, and the street outside were full of people milling about, speaking animatedly, talking on their phones, and vying for a moment with Nour.

Eventually my friend and I made our way inside, where there was just as much commotion. People coming to vote, and to sign their names next to their thumb-print on the petition. The petition is for a constitutional amendment to change the current electoral law, an issue supported by figures from Nour to Mohamed el-Baradei, the Egyptian former head of the IAEA. The ruling NDP party, however, has stated that it does not intend to propose constitutional amendments before the upcoming parliamentary elections.

Signing the petition

Yet al-Ghad is determined to prove that change is possible. According to Mohamed el-Wasemy, the Vice-President of the Executive Office for al-Ghad in Alexandria, the party's internal elections are a lesson for both the party and the Egyptian people at large. The ballot counting was something that probably none of us have ever seen before. The ballot boxes are made of glass, a visual reminder of al-Ghad's commitment to transparency. The ballots were counted out loud in front of a crowd of more than 60 people, the tallies marked on a board at the front of the room. During Friday night’s tally, every time the marker made a mistake and marked a tally for the wrong candidate, a dozen voices instantly called out and the error was immediately corrected. Each party member seated or standing in the room was watching carefully.

El-Wasemy called the elections a message to Egyptians. "A free election is not impossible to achieve," he said.

“Political activism is the best way to bring about change in Egypt,” said Mohamed, a member of al-Ghad's youth chapter, echoing el-Wasemy's sentiments in an interview earlier in the day. Mohamed is a fairly new member of al-Ghad and sees the party as the only challenge to the regime. Neither the Reform and Development party or the Karama party have received official licenses, and Mohamed said that much of the other supposed opposition in the country has been created by the regime to play the part of opposition without actually being such.

Whether al-Ghad offers real opposition to the ruling NDP or not, the Tomorrow party faces many obstacles in its battle for change. Mohamed pointed to the broken lock and handle on the door of the room we were in. "Obviously we have no funding," he said. Yet, despite the challenges, many in the party were hopeful as they gathered in the street following the election results.

"Say to me, mabrouk!" called out one of the newly elected deputies. I laughed and said to him, "Mabrouk!" Another new deputy echoed, "And me, and me!" Mabrouk - congratulations.

As the evening drew to a close, the crowd gathered on the street and slowly dispersed. Someone brought cake, and as we stood around talking a young member who spoke a little English walked over. "We call Obama the American Tutankahman," he said. "We like Obama." Why? I asked. "Some people love Obama because his father was Muslim," he said. "But for me, his vision and charisma."

After talk of el-Baradei (the headquarters of his National Association for Change in Alexandria is located in al-Ghad's offices), corporate scandal, and a shocked exclamation of, "What is this language?!" as someone tried to decipher my notes, it was time to head back to Cairo. This time, my friend and I caught a ride with a party member back to the city. It was 11:30pm, and past 2am by the time we arrived back in Cairo.

An eventful eighteen hours, to be sure. I wonder what is next?

Nour surrounded by party members

Why I Wear the Keffiyeh

This morning I boarded a flight from the DC/Metro area to Atlanta. As I slid into my middle seat, the woman in the window seat looked up. “You’re brave to wear that today,” she said, nodding at the black and white scarf around my neck. I smiled to myself, stowing my backpack under the seat in front of me before responding. I settled into my seat and turned to the woman, who was middle-aged with beautiful dark skin. She wore an olive-colored suede suit, large silvery earrings, and a hand-painted scarf twisted around her head in a very African style. “Believe it or not,” I told her, “I receive many more positive comments from wearing this than I do negative.” Perhaps that’s part of why I wear it, I thought. She smiled.

Yasser Arafat made the black and white keffiyeh a symbol of Palestine back in the 1960’s, much as the King of Jordan made the red & white version of the traditional Bedouin scarf a symbol of Jordan. Today, the black and white keffiyeh is strongly associated with Palestine– the fight for freedom, the oppression of the Gaza strip, the “Middle East conflict.” To some, the Palestinian keffiyeh represents resistance and solidarity; to others, it represents terrorism and the worst kind of Muslim fundamentalist. The latter view is what caused my seat-mate’s reaction.

A Chilean-German friend who lives and works in Europe and has traveled extensively in the Middle East told me once that he would never dare to wear the keffiyeh in the United States. Both friends and strangers have echoed his comment with varying degrees of awe, pride, and trepidation at my “daring.” They expect my display of such a supposedly controversial symbol to attract trouble, or at the very least some sort of derision or negativity. Their expectations aren’t unfounded, yet my experiences over the last year have been exactly the opposite – wearing the keffiyeh brings genuine interest, knowing smiles, and sometimes heartfelt thanks (occasionally discounts and job offers, too).

The only truly negative reaction I’ve received from wearing the keffiyeh came soon after I returned from Egypt around this time last year, and it came indirectly. A friend of the family picked me up from the airport one day in early January 2009, during Israel’s War on Gaza. Her parents have worked for the US Department of State for many years and are close friends of my mother’s. Nothing was said that night, but later my mother told me her friend had made a comment about noticing I was wearing a “terrorist scarf.”

More often, the reactions I receive are inquisitive or appreciative. A man came up to me in a Starbucks once and complimented me on my scarf. He asked where I got it and then said his daughter wore one every day. I was shopping with my mother in Florence when a shopkeeper asked me where I got my scarf and then if I spoke any Arabic. “Shuwayya,” I said. His Jordanian coworker was thrilled at my little bit of Arabic and proceeded to offer us a discount slightly lower than the “just for you” discount given to most tourists. Vendors in Rome’s Porta Portese occasionally ask, “enti filistina?” Are you Palestinian? Or I receive nods and smiles from strangers on the street or on buses, the sort of looks I understand and always return.

I was waiting for a bus in Rome one evening when an older man commented on my scarf. “Are you anti-Israeli?” he asked me. “No,” I told him, trying to form a response in Italian. “No, I’m not anti-Israeli, but I don’t support their war. I have friends in Palestine, and I wear this for them.” The man, who seemed to approve of my response, asked where I was from and what I was studying. 

In February I took a shuttle bus from Logan airport to a hotel in downtown Boston. I happened to be wearing my keffiyeh, which started a conversation with the bus driver, who was Egyptian. He and I talked about everything from Palestine and the keffiyeh to Egyptian politics and cultural differences (he also told me the location of the best shwarma in Cairo – down a narrow alley across from the Mosque dedicated to the Prophet’s daughter; I didn't tell him I'm a vegetarian).

The keffiyeh has become a symbol steeped in misconceptions over the past years. Some of you may recall the Dunkin’ Donuts/ Rachael Ray “scandal” of 2008, when the popular donut shop pulled an online commercial featuring Ray because she wore a black and white scarf resembling the keffiyeh. Right-wing blogger Michelle Malkin discussed the issue in her blog, and on May 28 commented: “Anti-American fashion designers abroad and at home have mainstreamed and adapted the scarves as generic pro-Palestinian jihad or anti-war statements. Yet many folks out there remain completely oblivious to the apparel’s violent symbolism and anti-Israel overtones.” Malkin’s comments reflect the sentiments which many expect I should face.

Yes, keffiyehs are sometimes worn by Arab terrorists and have appeared in videos of hostage-takings, among other things. They are also commonplace at anti-Israeli and pro-Palestinian rallies and marches, and Malkin is right that many of the youngsters who wear different colored scarves patterned after the traditional keffiyehs have no idea what their symbolism is. Yet the keffiyehs are so much more than a symbol of “murderous Palestinian jihad,” as Malkin calls it. If terrorists start wearing Gucci jeans is Gucci suddenly going to become a ‘terrorist’ symbol? What about the fundamentalist Christians who have bombed abortion clinics – will wearing the cross come to symbolize violent Christian fundamentalism?

Perhaps the deeper question is, what does it mean to be a symbol of Palestine? A symbol of Palestine is something much greater, something much deeper than modern Islamic extremism. To represent Palestine is to represent thousands of years of rich history. The keffiyeh ties today to the past, to a deep tradition that is not only Muslim but also Christian and even Jewish. The keffiyeh has come to represent strength and solidarity, and courage in the face of adversity. Yes, the Keffiyeh is in many ways a symbol of Palestine, but this does not make it a proponent of violence or bloodshed. The keffiyeh is a symbol of freedom, of hope, of a people’s fight against repression.

I wear the keffiyeh not because it’s a great fashion accessory or because it’s totally in style. I wear it to remind myself and those who recognize it that there is still injustice in the world, and also because I know peace is possible. For me, the keffiyeh is also much more personal than that. The keffiyeh represents friendship. I wear the keffiyeh for my friends in Gaza and Ramallah, for my friends all over the Arab world who support the Palestinian struggle, for all those whom I have never or will never meet. For me, the keffiyeh is personal.

Fighting for Gaza's Heart

Today "Gaza" is a buzzword. It was last year, too. And the year before that, and before that, and back farther than is comfortable to contemplate. Gaza is in the news, on the lips of those who know her and those who don't. Gaza is facts and figures and pictures of bloody children on television and calls of jihad and terrorism on CNN (or perhaps FOX News would be more appropriate). Some of you may know where Gaza is, some may have no idea, and a few of you may know her story.

But how many of you know her heart?

Gaza is more than an occupied territory. Gaza is more than a war zone. Gaza is more, even, than a political nightmare and the breeding ground of terrorists. What, then, is she?

Gaza, a tiny place about twice the size of Washington, DC, is home to more than 1.5 million people. Gaza has - or, in many cases, had - schools, offices, stores, museums, fields. Gaza is a home; one which has persistently persevered. How often have you stopped to think about that? Have you contemplated, instead of the political reality, the day-to-day reality?

Many Gazans cannot get the food they need. The schools cannot get the educational materials. There are shortages of even the most basic necessities - can you even fathom buying toilet paper on the black market? And yet Gazans survive.

Yasmeen: See the TV still in their living room?

I bet they were watching TV and wondering,

when will we be next?

But, what about the "terrorists?" you might ask. A friend of my mother's told me once that Gazans had voted for Hamas, a "terrorist" organization, and in so doing had asked for Israel's January war. I could feel my heart breaking as I tried to explain to this woman, the seasoned wife of a military man, that Hamas' electoral win could not justify Israel's war.

My words fell on deaf ears. It is moments like that which sometimes cause me to wonder why I bother at all... but then I would see another dead or bloody Palestinian child flash across CNN or Al-Jazeera and remember why.

But I am a foreigner who has never set foot on Palestinian soil. What do I know?

My friend Yasmeen is from Gaza. She left home to study at the American University of Cairo. Studying abroad is difficult and risky for Palestinian students, but they have few other options to continue their education. Getting a visa can prove to be an impossible task, and those students who are lucky enough to get one face the possibility of not being allowed to return home - ever.

After nearly two years of being away, Yasmeen was able to return home to Gaza for summer break this year, after Israel's war. After returning to Egypt, she posted albums of photos on her facebook account. One album contained photos of a mass of rubble - what was once the American International School of Gaza. Yasmeen's high school. Her comments under some of the pictures clearly reflect the pain, the sense of injustice and helplessness which so many Gazans feel: under a photo of charred school buses - "The terrorist's buses." Under a photo of a bottle of Crayola powder paint - "the terrorist's gunpowder;" a playground - "the terrorist's training ground;" a textbook - "terrorism for dummies guide."

In another album there are pictures taken all around Gaza - buildings, schools, homes, businesses. Most destroyed beyond repair. Here are stairs leading to air, there a picture of the Wall. And then, suddenly, green grass? Poppies? Is that... wheat, and daisies, and children playing on a beach? Yasmeen's comment: "This is in Gaza too. Don't be shocked."

Even in a place of so much death and pain, there is still beauty. There are still bright daisies and green grass and fields of wheat and poppies and beautiful sunsets over the Mediterranean. There are weddings and birthdays and new babies. Gaza is still full of life.

What does the future hold for that life? Yasmeen offers a chilling observation: "While the world continues to build up, Gaza will build her future underground."

Maybe, if the world remembers Gaza's humanity, her heart, that won't happen. Maybe, instead, Gaza's children will be able to grow in the sunshine.



I've been wanting to write a post about Gaza for a long time now. Sometime after Israel's War on Gaza in January of this year I realized I needed to write about Gaza. But I wanted to say something which has so often been left unsaid. I wanted to capture the thoughts and feelings running around inside myself and combine them with the pain I've seen and heard, the experiences and first-hand knowledge of my friends, the facts themselves. It's taken me nearly a year of thinking and contemplating and wanting to write... and perhaps sometimes that's what it takes.


Special thanks to Yasmeen for her pictures, her insight, and her courage. Allah ma3ik.

Why is the washing machine in the kitchen? Contemplating gender roles in the Meditarranean

If you have ever spent time around the Mediterranean, you may have experienced the peculiar phenomenon of finding the washing machine in the kitchen. I've seen this in many apartments from Rome to Cairo. Some argue this reflects Mediterranean societies: putting the washing machine in the kitchen keeps women in their place.

The traditional view of Mediterranean societies, from Italy to Egypt, says men are in charge and women are subservient to their men. Men dominate the public sphere. They gather in cafes or in shisha (water-pipe) bars, discussing politics and football. Women, on the other hand, are relegated to the private sphere. They appear in public accompanied by a male relative or keep out of the way, perhaps congregating in homes or on side streets, and they discuss happenings in their communities.

But the traditional view taken by the social sciences is exceedingly Euro-centric and male-dominated. The social sciences today remain essentially what they were as disciplines 100 years ago, when they were created by Western male academics attempting to fit everything into terms they were familiar with. Stagnation and resistance to change within the disciplines was the result, according to Lisa Anderson, a specialist on politics in MENA. Considering this, the gender situation in the Mediterranean can be viewed very differently.

Women’s interest in subjects dealing with interpersonal relationships has been referred to as ‘gossip’ for decades. This gossip, however, is actually discussion of issues over which women have direct influence and can wield actual power. The ‘important’ discussion of politics and soccer, on the other hand, are topics over which men have no influence: they are removed from the place of action and have no power over what happens.

It is true that men typically dominate the public sphere and women the private, but the motivations behind this division may not be as clear as they seem. For example, in rural areas of Italy men can be seen sitting in their cars along country roads, reading a newspaper or otherwise idling their time away. Why? Their women, viewing them as nuisances, have kicked them out of the house until supper time.

A curious result of the division between public and private spheres is seen by Lila Abu-Lughod, author of Veiled Sentiments, who conducted an extensive case-study while living with a Bedouin tribe in the western Egyptian desert. She discovered that the women were always abreast of all happenings in the public sphere of men, usually thanks to sons and younger men of the family. Women have an extensive grasp of both the public and private spheres; Men, however, only have access to public knowledge. The women’s world is almost entirely closed to men. If, then, knowledge is power, the power balance in the Mediterranean may not be quite what the social sciences have traditionally deemed it to be.

The traditional views are not wholly without merit. It is true that gender roles in the societies around the Mediterranean are strictly divided. Change is difficult, as these roles are commonly accepted as preserving and protecting society. While mobility between the spheres is possible, particularly among the upper class, it is also true that in many areas the role of women is forcibly made subservient to men. Some may believe the suggestion that women actually have a more powerful role in Mediterranean society than traditionally thought to merely be wishful thinking. Yet at the same time, perhaps the question of why the washing machine is in the kitchen deserves a bit more thought.

And the winner is...

Amidst the intermittent roars and cheers of Egyptian students boycotting the administration (and Delicious, Inc.) in the main plaza of AUC's new campus, smaller groups of Egyptians and Americans cluster to celebrate a totally different victory – one realized seven time zones, a continent, and an ocean away.

Greeting one of my Egyptian friends, he points to my red belt and asks, “is this for the strike?” (Strikers are wearing red wrist bands.)
“No,” I reply. “This is me being patriotic!”
“You’re a Republican?!” he asks with a mixture of disgust and incredulity.
“No...” I tell him. “Red, white and blue “ – my shirt, belt, and skirt – “It’s America. Patriotism.”
I’m celebrating America.

Soon a few more Egyptians join us, and then a fellow American grabs my arm and cries, “Mabruk!” Congratulations – America has won a victory today.

In the states, Americans are either rejoicing or accepting defeat, as usual after a presidential election. Something, however, is different – and the world feels it. Yesterday America made history. Voters elected a man by the name of Barak Hussein Obama – a black man. America proved to itself and to the world that it is better than often given credit for.

Sometime around 6am local time, 11pm EST, news broadcasters released the news. Obama was President Elect. There were still votes to be counted and states to be decided, but with 338 Electoral votes, Obama had won the election. Winning states such as Virginia would also prove to be historic – Virginia has voted red (Republican) since 1964. After 44 years, the capital of the Confederacy has gone blue.

It’s a few minutes past 6am. I’m stretched out on the couch. My 3-legged cat reclins on my chest while my roommate talks animatedly on the phone with her mother, who is in South Dakota, while surrounded by a mountain of pillows and blankets. Unlike me, she stayed up all night to watch as results came in, and has been ecstatic since the announcement of Obama’s win. Both she and I were stunned when just a few minutes later John McCain was on-screen, ready with his concession speech.

McCain’s speech was well-written and he conceded the victory to Obama with grace and character – albeit with a tired air. I’ve always liked McCain. A Republican friend updated his facebook status just after the speech to say he “had never been so proud to be a McCain supporter.” I can understand the sentiment.

As 6:30am rolled around we expected Obama’s acceptance speech any minute and I had a decision to make: I could either miss Obama’s speech and catch my usual 6:55 bus or stay home, watch the speech, and arrive late to my 8:30am class. When a newscaster announced Obama would make his speech in 25 minutes I contemplated my waiting school bag, took my shoes off, and sat back down on the couch.

There have been enough commentaries on Obama’s speech, so I’ll refrain from going into detail and suffice it to say that as Barak Obama stepped on stage to announce his acceptance of the position of President of the United States of America his attitude was what struck me. He was not a man rejoicing in a personal victory. He was sober and composed, and his face was that of a man who knows the weight of responsibility he is taking on; the face of a man calm, composed, and ready to accept what the people of America have offered him.

Both Americans and the world have celebrated today. Cairo’s youth are rejoicing in Obama’s election just as much as any Obama supporter in the states. There are those who have received the news more soberly, understanding that Obama’s election isn’t going to result in sweeping foreign policy changes in the Middle East, but ultimately world is ready to accept Obama’s words that yes, America can. The question that now remains is whether Obama will be able to live up to the world’s expectations – both inside America’s borders and out.