Sand and Sea

I woke this morning to the sounds of the duomo's bells echoing across the ancient town of Amalfi, my chosen place of repose and escape for a couple days. The town was just coming to life, cafes being slowly set up for the day's business, some people wandering to mass. Church bells have replaced the muezzin's call. The owner of my residence brought me another cappuccino on my balcony and suggested routes I should take on the cliffs overlooking the teal ocean. I regretted not having packed any of my oil paints or charcoal. This is a town from another age, a town of seafarers and mariners. I always go to the sea for my moments of stillness and quiet. I am a connoisseur of seascapes. And I miss my endless expanses of oceans as I look out from a ship underway, but I know I will eventually return. Everything always looks different from the sea. I feel detached from the world, though this is probably more of an illusion than reality.

And yet, my thoughts still wander to Cairo and the rest of the world. Yesterday I took my friend and dog to the airport in Rome so that they could return to Egypt. I hope to follow soon. We were surprised to find so many in line for the flight to Cairo, and I again relearned that the world's borders are not set, but differ from one person to the next. A group of Palestinian men, including a university professor, had been waiting for three weeks to return to their families in Gaza. They had spent more than 4000 euro to make arrangements to get home. Egypt was opening the Rafah border crossing for 48 hours and they intended to get across in time. But the Egypt Air employees told them they could not go to Cairo, even though they had visas. As the men desperately pleaded to speak to a manager another senior employee came out to tell them they would not get on the flight. The younger of the group started screaming, "Our families are there! We have to get back to them! The border will only be open for two days! Don't you understand?" Then he turned to us, "I am so sorry for this. Excuse me. But I must get home." He was embarrassed and desperate, forced into this situation by a world of uncaring political borders and the indifference of airline employees. It was embarrassing that my dog could get into Cairo much easier than these men. I have yet to find out from my friend if they were ever able to make the flight and get back to their families...

Yesterday I finally cracked open one of the two works of fiction that accompanied the ten or so foreign policy and Middle East history books I took with me on my flight from Cairo. My copy of The English Patient is worn and battered. But its words and images are divine.  It is more like a collection of thoughts and sensations than a tightly woven plot-line. And how appropriate that my own journey has brought me from Egypt to Italy. 

By 1932, Bagnold was finished and Madox and the rest of us were everywhere. Looking for the lost army of Cambyses. Looking for Zerzura. 1932 and 1933 and 1934. Not seeing each other for months. Just the Bedouin and us, crisscrossing the Forty Days Road. There were rivers of desert tribes, the most beautiful humans I've met in my life. We were German, English, Hungarian, African- all of us insignificant to them. Gradually we became nationless. I came to hate nations. We are deformed by nation-states. Madox died because of nations.

The desert could not be claimed or owned- it was a piece of cloth carried by winds, never held down by stones, and given a hundred shifting names long before Canterbury existed, long before battles and treaties quilted Europe and the East. Its caravans, those strange rambling feasts and cultures, left nothing behind, not an ember. All of us, even those with European homes and children in the distance, wished to remove the clothing of our countries. It was a place of faith. We disappeared into landscape. Fire and sand. We left the harbours of oasis. The places where water came to and touched...Ain, Bir, Wadi, Foggara, Khottara, Shaduf. I didn't want my name against such beautiful names. Erase the family name! Erase nations! I was taught such things by the desert. 

Watching Cairo from Afar

Still waiting away in exile in rainy Naples. Much has happened the last week...the best event being Mubarak's resignation. I wish I could have been on the streets of Cairo last Friday. And as a former student of archaeology, I wish I could join the archaeologists protesting against Zahi Hawaas. It makes my day.

The way things are tending now I think my return will come shortly. The UN is returning to work Sunday and other countries have lifted their travel advisories. With all the money it is costing the State Department to have personnel evacuated, I hope they reassess the situation soon. I will refrain from further lamenting about what seems to be a lost chance at engagement on the ground in a critical time. But through my frustration I am still extremely happy for Egypt, though the battle for democracy is long from over.

Though this revolution was certainly not about the West or the United States, there is still a significant part to be played by the US and great potential on which to capitalize. Even if the US bumbled its way through articulating a stance on the events in Egypt, it was partially responsible for restraining the regime from the level of violence that could have occurred- not to diminish the level of violence that did take place and that I personally witnessed. The aid sent to the regime provided at least some leverage to the US. And it was nervous Israel, after all, who provided the regime with more supplies to suppress the protesters after the violence of 28 January.

The Egyptian military is walking a fine line at the moment and no one seems sure of their intentions. Some are optimistic, talking about meetings between the military and the youth, the suspension of the constitution, appointment of a constitutional committee, etc. But, as many have noted, suspending the constitution can be a double-edged sword. The emergency law is still in place. The military stated it intends for the constitution to be amended, not scrapped. This might, of course, be better in the transitional interim but it also vaguely smacks of a regime still trying to maintain control. And the Army has benefited from the regime and has always been intertwined with it. The million dollar question still is, as it has been for some days now, whether the Army will actually cede power to a civilian government or a transitional government. The military is still calling the shots on its own and not showing any signs of relinquishing to a truly representative transitional government...are they going to let go?

Hopefully powers that be in the US understand the momentum unleashed in Egypt. The people will not take a government that smacks of the old regime and I doubt they will take military rule as well. If progress is not adequate or real the people will not stand down. The US has to push the Egyptian military with what ability it has toward reform and implementation of a true democracy. The Egyptian military is dependent on US aid and the supply chain that comes with US equipment.

On the same note, the US should be prepared to deal with a much more dynamic and pluralistic Egypt. Stale interactions between a single regime and its military are not going to be sufficient. The US has an opportunity to "put its money where its mouth is" and actually support democracy. Though a democratic Egypt will surely be more resistant to direct US influence and goals, it will also be stable at the core. Outlets for political expression and divergent views will be available and what America always suggests as its number one enemy, extremism, will lose relevance and diminish. And, to be perfectly honest, there really is no other choice...it is going to happen.

Exiled

Here I sit for the third night in the restaurant of my hotel in Naples. I am trying to enjoy the fact that I love the food here...I love Italy. But my enthusiasm has been nonexistent. It has been an odd sensation to be back in the fleet, particularly with a sudden celebrity status. Being called ma'am just doesn't sound right...it's as awkward and stiff as the pressed polyester khaki uniform I put on every day. Perhaps I am actually in culture shock...

I have spent the last two days shuffling from one person to the next who wants to speak with me, a large portion including office calls with flag officers. Thankfully, I was "adopted" in my exile status by a flag officer who was also a member of my program. So I have some level of protection as I sit at my new desk in front of his office trying to resolve my life and figure out how to get back to the country I was torn out of. People stop by and remark, "Oh, you're THAT person. Aren't you so glad to get out of there."
"No." I usually flatly respond. "They had to force me out. And the second they lift the mandatory evacuation you can bet I will be on a plane back in." Incredulous looks follow.
"But don't you hate it there? Aren't you glad to be in Italy."
"No." I have nothing else to offer. I don't think I know exactly how to explain.

The greatest emotion I feel these days is anger. I never do well when I do not have complete control over my situation. I am grateful for the support I have received, particularly from my scholarship network. I know the admiral will take care of me and I am very happy to have his support. He understands how I feel I believe. But alas, my fate is in state department hands. 

I get call and messages from people who say that I need to speak with a very vague and nondescript "us." Thus far I have been able to escape those interviews, but I am sure I won't for long.

"But why did they hate him?" I get asked frequently by passers-by. Do I even know where to start? Why do they hate Mubarak?
"Is this an Islamist movement?"
"No."

Don't get me wrong, there are those who seem to have far better understanding than I. At times I think I am too close to the situation. Somehow I got myself emotionally invested in it. I really want Egypt to succeed. The rays of light from the coming dawn are brilliant...if only the momentum can endure and be effective. Everything seems to be closing in and like the regime somehow has an upperhand...the ability to wait it out. Of course the people now know they can rise, but how long until the craving for normalcy outweighs the passion?

More unedited reflection...

Flying over the snowy Alps. I have never managed to make it to them on the ground but every time I fly over them I long to go. Soon I will be in Naples. Hopefully it will be my final destination for at least a week. I have TDY orders for 30 days. The message for the mandatory evacuation did not hit the fleet until yesterday, but I have been assured it will be reviewed before 30 days is up.

My pen has now exploded twice on my airplane adventures the last few days. My hands are starting to look worse than when I go on my oil painting binges. My dog is seething underneath the seat in front of me- he is not impressed with being stuffed into a doggy duffel bag and being subjected to another move. This will be the fourth country he has traveled to in his 12.5 weeks of life- he is truly becoming and international dog of mystery. I’ll have to come up with his theme song. My friend from the university is still accompanying me. Who would have ever thought going to a university friend’s flat last Friday (to look out on Tahrir) would result in now 8 solid days of revolution experience and travel together? She’s waiting, like me, to hear news that AUC really will start up the semester. We decided she might as well tag along with me until she decides to go her own way or return to Cairo. She didn’t want to stay when most of the Americans we know had left- and I did not plan on going to far from Egypt. So here we are, still on a spontaneous adventure. I have to admit, the last week tops even the drama of my divorce a few years back.

Yesterday the protesters did not march on the Presidential Palace. Mubarak did not leave. But as ADM Stavridis pointed out to me yesterday (and others have also noted), it does not matter too much whether he leaves now or a few transitional months from now- Mubarak is finished. However, I would argue that now is the most critical time frame. Stamina must be maintained in the opposition- coherence of thought communicated in a clear voice must be heard. People with government and bureaucratic experience must be in the game. As my professor noted in his recent article, the dangers of authoritarian rule resuming in some form or fashion are not out of the question. Il Ikhwan or the Army might end up as another authoritarian power. It all seems to stand on a knife-edge. I hear the opposition is meeting with Suleiman. I hope they also have some plan for a crippled economy- this might actually worry me more than anything.

In the meantime, I think my dog has become fully housebroken throughout the revolution and following travels. I know he must wonder where we actually live. During our last week in Cairo we were rarely at my flat. All of we friends, including the other scholar and his family, combined households. I transitioned to his house Saturday after the reports of looters were making the news and intermittent machine gun fire was echoing throughout the neighborhood. This was before the impressive neighborhood watches had been formed. It was stressful even making it to his house and thankfully he met us half way- I felt much more comfortable being escorted by an army combat engineer.

One of the days when gunfire went off outside his house he immediately ordered his wife, me, and our friend to the back safe room while he calmly grabbed the embassy radio following us- mostly upset from having almost spilt his bowl of cottage cheese he had been trying to snack on- neither of us had been able to eat with the constant phone calls all and other drama. I was glad for his constant display of calm. As we drove back from the airport after having sent his family off we drove through endless military checkpoints complete with tanks. He noted how odd it was to be on the other side of what the occupation in Iraq must have been like. He considered what the Iraqi people felt at the American checkpoints. It is very different to be on this side of it. I knew he was heart-broken to see his family go, he didn’t know at this point he would be following them a day later. He discussed the differences between all the components of an AK-47 and M-16 to change the subject. I took photos of everything like a ridiculous tourist as I listened. When we made it back to Maadi and went through around 10 different neighborhood checkpoints we finally reached the satellite station where a legitimate shoot out was taking place. One of the AUC American professors (of course from Texas) was manning the watch with the Egyptians. “Don’t go over there man…there is some really messed up shit happening right now.” The professor said. We thanked him and took a different route…I was still taking pictures of people arming themselves with meat cleavers. The sticks with knives taped on the end were my favorites. It was straight medieval. I told him we should boil up some hot tar to pour from windows in case we fell under siege...levity is always better in serious situations. But, on a serious note, I felt utterly safe thanks to our Egyptian protectors. Any looter coming our way would be utterly dismembered.

Snapshots of the last Week

30 January 2011

How does one really capture the sensations and feelings of being caught in revolutionary events for nearly a week? I was contemplating this issue this morning, sitting on my porch in the cool breeze listening to semi-automatic gunfire echoing across Maadi, happy to learn that a couple Egyptian tanks had finally stationed themselves close to my residence after a night of anarchy. The gunfire still sometimes sounded as close as across the street. Looters were prowling throughout Cairo with the guns stolen from police stations that had been burned to the ground in the previous days. Only the bo’abs and other guards were out, armed with pipes, shanks, and other blunt objects. Building materials from a nearby construction sight had been drug into the street to create road barriers. Even Maadi was starting to remind me of Mad Max.

However, Maadi was still not the nearly post-apocalyptic scene my friend and I witnessed after escaping Tahrir on Saturday morning, having spent 24 hours in downtown Cairo watching the Egyptian people defeat the security apparatus. There were burned out cars, army personnel carriers, still in tact tanks, glass and ash strewn in the famous liberation midan filled with youths carrying weapons, one of whom briefly made to attack our taxi until the driver waved him off. The NDP building was still burning and the Egyptian Museum looked unprotected. After Friday I will never forget the smell and sting of tear gas. I will never forget the rage I felt watching the police utterly brutalize people, feeling guilty and helpless to aid the people in the streets; the people who made me swell with pride for the Egyptians. They were not going to let themselves lose this battle. But I digress…I should start with Tuesday, Police Day, the beginning.

Who would think that Egyptians would finally rise against their oppressive government? A week ago I would have told you that this scenario was highly unlikely. The regime was too firmly in place, further cemented by American and Western support.

On Wednesday I wrote some reflections in a notebook as I lay, still tired from the day before, in a cool corner nook at the American University in Cairo, waiting to meet with my advisor:

26 Jan 2011

How long will the US government forsake universal human rights in their pursuit of stability as the strategic cornerstone for the Middle East? Repression cannot go on indefinitely and Arab societies are more than aware of US support for brutal dictatorships. The US sends 1.3 billion dollars a year in military aid alone to Egypt, second only to Israel.

How many Americans are aware that much of their magical bubble and way of life is often paid with the blood and lives of those who have been silenced or left on the edges of political margins? Relegated to the realm of the irrational or the religious fanatic? But I suspect much of the American public will respond with apathy, lost in the world of Britney Spears and reality shows. Those who do look a bit further will find themselves comforted with the likes of Bernard Lewis and others- there is that timeless and unchanging difference in our cultures and religions- the monolithic Arabs have some essential cultural quality that makes them stagnant and unable to modernize like the “West.” Yes, it all sounds academic and well reasoned enough. Such a perspective allows us to take our patronizing tone that suggests, “the West did it so why cannot you?” Well my friends, the same thing never happens twice or in the same way. Our friends in the global “South” do not exist under the same circumstances the West enjoyed some time ago. And let us not mention the lovely US foreign policy that tries to maintain dictatorships for the sake of strategic stability; but in the end this is a band-aid covering a festering wound.

Yesterday I was proud of Egypt and the Egyptian people. It was called “the day of wrath” but I actually sensed a strong feeling of joy. Even amidst the repeatedly fired canisters of tear gas there were happy cheers- the people had actually turned up. They were actually going to take a stand together. They were organized, continued to regroup, and worked in unison. They were serious.

Instead of running, many brought water, handing it out to all who had been overwhelmed by the gas. Everyone spoke openly and clearly about why they had come. This was not about ideology, religion, or culture; Egypt is tired of oppression, tired of hunger, tired of absurd hierarchies of status and wealth.

Egypt surprised me yesterday and I don’t think the momentum will die anytime soon…

3 February 2011

It is hard to believe that I am sitting on an airplane, high in the sky, on my way to Brussels- a last minute destination. In the last hour it changed from Vienna, to Budapest, to Brussels. The day before it had possibly been Paris or Rabat. Did I feel relief when the plane lifted from the ground? I suppose a little- if only because of the finality of getting me, my dog, and my friend out together on a commercial flight so that we were not forced to return to the US on the government evacuation flights. We both agreed we didn’t want to go back- we didn’t even know what we would say to people as wandered our respective small towns. I was sad when the plane lifted- sad to leave. I had no choice. I had delayed until the last minute when my name was becoming far too prominent on the CENTCOM commander’s desk- why is she not gone yet? Why is she not taking the mandatory evacuation flights? Thankfully, I was able work in a commercial flight so I could get my dog out with me. The embassy would not make me leave him.

I felt like I was abandoning Cairo, though this revolution is not mine. I am leaving friends, a life, and a country it seems I have become rather attached to-particularly in the last week. I have been so proud and awed by the Egyptian people. These short words probably do not accurately capture everything that I feel. It was absolutely inspiring to see people stand up to their government, stand together, take control and responsibility for their country. After this I will not doubt in the powers of “agency” again.

And in our rush to the airport I was greatly worried for Egypt, particularly in the way things have turned since Mubarak’s thugs turned out in Tahrir. I hear from various sources that the man only has hours before the fall- he will be gone by Friday. But he is obviously trying to make his last stand.

My friend Hussein showed up before curfew to get us to the airport early enough to battle onto a plane. He showed up in spite of the fact that his brother was in the hospital from severe burns he received the night before in Tahrir. When I said goodbye tears filled his eyes-I told him I would be back in a few weeks. I must come back.

I laughed at the headlines of Al Ahram when they handed them to us in the plane today- all the pictures were of Mubarak supporters. I firmly believe the Army must make a stand now, as dangerous as that could be. I am tired of hearing that only the US can tell them to do it. I am utterly sick of the argument that Egypt will fall to radicals. In my opinion, that is not Egypt and it is not where Egypt is heading. The people now know they can stand- the Muslim Brotherhood is not the only opposition force against the government, though they are the best organized.

I was briefly wondering what to think about my thesis now- this revolution has had no stain from the West or victimhood. Finally, the West was out of the picture- besides the hand in the Mubarak regime and the sheer incompetence of American foreign policy.