Revolution Diaries: Feb. 2 – The battle

Tags

Cairo, democracy, Egypt, jan25, mob, Mubarak, Tahrir, thugs

The president’s speech late Tuesday night created a split that was evident on Wednesday morning.

Those in Tahrir said that lives lost prevented them from leaving. Mubarak gave promises, not decisions. But for others outside, the president has made unprecedented concessions. Life should go back to normal.

My concerns about this worrying split in opinion were quashed by midday. The streets that raged with support for demonstrators for eight days – except for those who wanted to go back to work so they can eat – suddenly had people chanting “Long Live Mubarak.”

“Yes we want the demonstrations to end but I would never chant for Mubarak,” a man told me on the bridge overlooking central Cairo.

I saw a truck carrying pro-Mubarak protesters heading to downtown. The scene was reminiscent of elections, when state-run businesses send their employees to vote for the ruling party’s candidates.

But what I thought would be merely provoking demonstrations turned to be an organized attack of plain-cloth police and thugs on those camped in Tahrir for 8 days.

It was brutal, more than Friday and Saturday. Tahrir has been kept free of any weapon-like material; protesters wanted to keep it peaceful. Unarmed, they were belted with rocks but eventually responded to fend themselves. It turned ugly as the Pro-Mubarak people, at one point on horses and camels, used Molotov cocktails.

Hundreds were injured and people died.

Hopefully, the Wednesday carnage would be the squirming of a fleeing dictator.

This ran in Italian in the Corriere Della Sera.

Revolution Diaries: Jan. 31 – Are you ready?

Tags

Cairo, democracy, Egypt, jan25, Mubarak, protest, Tahrir

Egypt has gone beyond a standoff phase. We live in two worlds, each intent on ignoring the existence of the other. On one hand, the president is holding on to power and making insignificant changes to the cabinet that are cosmetic at best. On the other, protesters are not even paying attention to what he’s doing; they just want him to leave.

No one is budging. What to do?

The opposition has called for a million man march on Tuesday. By Monday night, tens of thousands have flocked to the central Tahrir Square. They plan to stay the night there, waiting for their brethren to join them.

I can’t speculate what Mubarak is doing meanwhile, but I don’t think he’s watching TV. Otherwise, he would have heard the same word over and over again on all channels except State TV: Leave.

There is a similar state of schizophrenia in the city. A couple of hours into the curfew, as I crossed from central Cairo to the Eastern suburb where I live — to spend the first night home since Friday — I was nervous for the first time. It was a feeling I didn’t experience at the height of the violent crackdown on protesters on Jan. 28.

The military check points surrounding the presidential palace and the neighborhood watch groups on literally every corner made the city feel like a war site. Maybe it was civil war, against a faceless enemy — identified as a gang of thugs and looters in some circles and as disguised policemen executing a scaremongering scheme in others.

The people there seemed oblivious to the raging demonstrations that roamed the same streets days earlier. Maybe they had participated in some earlier in the day or will do later on. It wasn’t clear.

Spending the night on the other side of the city, I myself felt detached from the ongoing revolution – having the TV and phone as my only connection in an ongoing internet blackout. But that’s only physical detachment, because I’m already gearing up for tomorrow, ready for the million man march. I’m sure others are doing the same.

This ran in Italian in the Corriere Della Sera.

Revolution Diaries: Jan. 30 – Dead body & Curfew

Tags

Cairo, Egypt, jan25, Mubarak

Sunday started with a dead body and ended up with a tiring long string of check points.

Again the days have merged and there was no telling which was today and which was the day before. But sometime early morning, we got a tip through twitter that a dead body was thrown out by a police car in Mounira.

I woke up Ian Lee, my colleague and DNE video journalist and we headed out. We drove, parked in Zamalek and walked to Tahrir. People who set up barricades on the street leading from Qasr El-Nil Bridge to Tahrir were checking IDs of the few who wanted to get into the now-iconic site of mass demonstrations in central Cairo.

At 8 am, thousands were still there chanting, calling for Mubarak to step down, under the watchful eyes of the army. From the looks of it, they had all camped in Tahrir overnight.

The street between Al-Mogamma and The American University in Cairo was flooded with water. Further up on Al-Qasr Al-Aini Street, army had a forceful presence. Tanks and soldiers lined the once busy street that houses the Parliament, the cabinet and leads to many ministries including the Interior. A couple of burnt down security trucks on the side were a reminder of the clashes between civilians and the police.

In a side street following that of the parliament, a group of three men in their 40s and 50s were standing as part of the neighborhood watch. At the time we were there, civilians policed all the side and back streets, with army nowhere to be found except on Qasr Al-Aini and the area surrounding the Ministry of Interior.

Cars coming out of the ministry that morning had shot at the neighborhood watch, wounding one of them, the men told us. Their theory was that top police officers who had been hiding there since Friday evening or even before wanted to flee but were scared of the now-empowered citizens. The unspoken feeling was that the days of corruption, torture and intimidation were over.

One of the tree men, who identified himself as a top executive in a multinational bank (details removed upon his request), told us about the dead body. A sliver Toyota without registration plates threw it at checkpoint and ran. At the following check point, neighborhood watch checked the driver who presented them with a police ID, state security. The men assure me they saw the ID. After letting him pass, they found the men manning the earlier checkpoints running after the car, telling them they shouldn’t have let the car passed.

The body had a gunshot wound in the abdomen. It wasn’t bleeding, the men stressed. The man must have died earlier and was later shot to cover up the cause of death, they theorized.

The body that was thrown outside the Mounira Police Station was left there for 3-4 hours. The Mounira Hospital refused to come collect it, saying it was the responsibility of the Morgue. Their hands were already full treating the wounded. A resident in the area told us later that a car from the hospital took it.

Residents had covered it in a bed sheet, in a sign of respect for the dead.

The Trip Home

After spending two nights at the office, it was time to go back home. My mother has been home alone (my father has been stranded in Alexandria and my brother has been helping me over the past couple of days). We couldn’t print the paper on Friday, after the 6 pm curfew was imposed at 5.30. The mobile networks and the internet were down. We wanted to print it on Sunday. We did.

This meant we had to be done by 3.30 so we can deliver our content on CD by hand to the printer. For someone who constantly works under tight deadline, Sunday’s was one of the most challenging.

We did put the paper up and managed to restore our website and update it from reporters based in the office and spread across the city. But it was after 5 when we left the office. Civil checkpoints were already set up more than an hour ago. Men from our street walked in front of two cars carrying reporters and editors to clear our way to the main road. There, the man heading the neighborhood watch, a physician, rode in our car to take us through.

The area was the most organized neighborhood watch I had seen that day. As we stopped at a checkpoint on every corner, he gave instructions to the men manning it. A new system and a new color of identifying headbands were being used that night. Systems had to be changed to avoid infiltrators.

The 6 October Bridge was eerily empty. We were advised to speed through. Salah Salem Road was manned by army and republic guards. Checkpoints and detours. Checkpoints, search and detours. Checkpoints and detours. It seemed never ending.

The area leading to and surrounding the presidential palace was completely sealed off by tanks. Once inside Heliopolis, civil checkpoints reigned.

I’m not easily scared, but the unexpectedness of the process left us tense. There was no way of knowing who is manning the next checkpoints. Each area had its own set of codes and systems and we had to adapt to their requests. The most important thing is to keep car saloon light on and drive slowly.

And some men, who were standing there for the second or third night in a row, were understandably tense too. One man thought he had the right to rebuke us for staying out this late, it was 7 pm.

We finally made it home. Our friends in the other car, who had ventured further in Heliopolis took an extra hour of civil and army checkpoints.

Once home, I was glad that the demonstrations in Tahrir were oblivious to the curfew that has paralyzed the city that never slept. The chants for Mubarak to step down were still loud. Our reporter there was heading to the office to put together a video report.

 

Thoughts & analysis

Now the curfew has been moved to 3 pm. This means that people have to empty the streets earlier and civil protection have a longer period of time to cover. The army made it clear on Sunday that it was serious about imposing the curfew, unlike the two previous days. But contrary to what State TV had suggested –that the armed forced would firmly deal with violators – the army didn’t arrest anyone; it was merely checking cars/pedestrians, albeit rigorously.

In addition to reports that citizens have been arresting thugs that turn out to be police, other factors led me to believe that the state of fear spread across the capital is a government tactic. The looting that happened on Friday after police disappeared with the curfew was somewhat plausible. People needed money and it was sitting there unguarded. According to TV interviews, some men with no criminal background found others looting and joined.

But it doesn’t make any sense for a thief, who is by nature a coward, to see all the men armed with batons, knifes, guns and other professional and makeshift weapons and yet tries to engage. Many of the areas guarded are mainly residential, which means that looting would be difficult and money and valuables aren’t guaranteed to be there, unlike stores.

Looters were surprisingly aware of all store locations in all areas as if they have studied them and planned for the thefts for months before that. Also implausible.

Someone suggested that many people are now concerned with protecting their homes than they are with protesting. It’s true for many people, even though demonstrations haven’t waned. But they definitely could’ve been stronger.

Police is said to be deploying back in the country after three days of complete absence. Whether it’ll re-engage with protesters is yet to be seen. Clashes with police, especially with those left near the ministry of interior have already left at least a hundred dead. And people are not backing down.

(I didn’t even have time to give this a second read. Sorry for any mistakes)

Tweetup & Open Mic Night this Friday

Tags

Cairo, Music, social event, Stand up comedy, twitter

Now there are two regular events that I look forward to in Cairo: the Open Mic Night (which was held before at Makan) and the Cairo Tweetup. This month, both are happening on the same night. But the good news is that both are happening at the same place: Darb 1718.

Like Jelly are performing (I said next time they go on stage I’d be there). And on the comedy side Ahmed Al-Mojadidi is making his debut (I guess). I haven’t seen him on stage before, but I’ve met him a couple of times and he’s HILARIOUS.

According to Mo-ha-med, Tweetup Guru, you can call Mojadidi ‘Dodi’, even though he might not like it. But you have to do what Mo says anyway. No questions asked or you’ll be banished from Tweetup Heaven.

So here you go, you can rediscover and support local talent while meeting very interesting tweeps, all at the same time.

We’ll be the geeks with the name tags. We wear them with pride.

Come along and say hi.

For more info, check the Facebook event or Mo’s blog post. And here’s the map.

The Emergency Prosperity Squad

Tags

ahmed ezz, Cairo, change, CNN, democracy, Egypt, Egyptian, ElBaradei, emergency law, ez, laws, Media, NDP, opposition, regime, state, West

If you think of it, no one said anything new on Christiane Amanpour’s Egypt episode; Mohamed ElBaradei quoted the same statistics and the same argument about change and National Democratic Party mouthpiece Ahmed Ezz continued with the regime’s 30-year-long mantra coupled with the past decade’s “we are changing and developing and prospering” bla.

Although not new, Ezz’s comments highlighted the schizophrenia rooted in almost all government arguments. In less than 5 minutes he managed to move from the prosperity fantasy — “Egypt is going through a very exciting time. And Egypt is developing in almost every walk of life. And the political diversity taking place in Egypt today is unseen, unwitnessed in my generation” — to the Hollywood B-movie thriller — “it’s code red alert in Cairo 365 days of the year.”

Supposedly, we are in a time of peace. This is often hailed as the overarching achievement of our wise president, an achievement that extends in lineage to a time before Mubarak came to power. Sadat had promised Egyptians prosperity after the war and the Open Door policy is supposed to have made that true in the 70s. And since 1981, it was prosperity at full throttle.

But it was also the reign of the state of emergency. Almost 30-years of emergency laws justified by a state of mutilating danger (terrorists, Israelis, Palestinians, Lebanese, Iranians, drug dealers, headbangers, satellite TV, stuff in the air, bloggers, activists, journalists, aliens, etc). We are targeted, we are in danger, they are out to get us (regardless of the identity of those “they”), etc.

The multi-purpose Masr Mostahadafa (مصر مستهدفة Egypt is targeted) line has proven useful in dismissing a documentary about police torture as well as condemning any critical statement made by any foreign entity known to man.

The same concept was used by parliament earlier this year to renew the president’s unmonitored authority in anything related to weapons and armament. The representative of the Ministry of Defense present in that session said that such authorization is made in exceptional and necessary cases; and the current dangers threatening the state are exceptional circumstances.

Even on the local level, those ‘dangers’ are often used as a justification. In response to April 6 Youth Movement’s notification to the Ministry of Interior of their planned demonstration on April 6, 2010, the ministry notified the group of its disapproval, “Due to the current security situation and public disturbance marches like this can cause in the capital.”

Almost the same line was used in response to the MPs’ notification of their May 3 march.

The “current security situation” seems to be too fragile to handle anything; it’s a wonder that we are still breathing.

The use of this argument in these contexts proves yet again that the laws are in place only to protect the regime, to stifle the opposition. It’s often used to override the judicial process and court orders, to silence critics, to threaten activists.

Just this past month, Coptic blogger Hany Nazeer saw his 19-month detention renewed in spite of a court order for his release.

“Nazeer’s renewed detention gives lie to the Egyptian government’s claim that it doesn’t use the emergency law to imprison people with dissenting views,” said Sarah Leah Whitson, Middle East and North Africa director at Human Rights Watch. “The government is not addressing a national security emergency but persecuting a writer whose blog may have upset some people.”

Many Islamists and activists face more or less the same treatment, justified and facilitated by the emergency laws.

This has been going on for so long it’s not surprising any more.

The baffling part, however, is how (or why) top government officials can seamlessly combine the constant threat argument with the promotion of the strides the government took towards economic development and political reform. Doesn’t investment require safety? Isn’t political reform supposed to go hand in hand with social stability?

The government is promoting the country as safe and secure to foreign investors while painting the “code red alert” picture during any political argument. But isn’t it worried that those foreign investors would eavesdrop to its security scare talk? Or does it assure them with the heavy hand of its interior ministry?

The current regime has become an expert in giving the façade of democracy to the world, without any tangible progress on the ground, as one foreign politician/academic once told me. Ezz tried to employ the same rhetoric, telling Amanpour about the 240 publications, the 15 TV networks, the regime’s tolerance of ElBaradei, and about the “good Egyptians who are demonstrating … for either political or economic or other grievances” near the parliament. The fact that such grievances are not addressed, or that the emergency laws are used to protect the political survival of this regime is beside the point of course.

It was refreshing though to see that such argument is easily rebuffed.

Ezz’s claim that the emergency laws, which he compared to the US patriot act, can only be removed “when the Middle East is at peace with itself” was met by Amanpour’s stunned “Oh, my goodness.”

Why wouldn’t she say that? The Patriot Act and similar legislations in different countries have been heavily criticized for stifling freedoms — in countries where other civil rights legislations ensure a sort of balance and civil monitoring of state practices and possible violations. We are still struggling to get anything close to that systematic protection of civil and human rights. In addition, our regime has often said it can’t import democracy, but obviously it can import anti-terror laws, which is expected to be the new name of the amended, more systematically abusive version of our current emergency laws.

The wonderful people of Makan

Tags

arabic, Cairo, Egypt, Egyptian, Guitar, Like Jelly, local, Makan, Music, Shady Ahmed, standup Comedy, tabla

I arrived late. I had missed the part I was looking for the most. That was the first thing I learnt when I met my friends; Rami’s standup comedy bit was over. I readied myself to spend half hour or so and then leave. It was open mic night and the last (and only) time I went was solely to see a friend play the guitar. But the half hour turned into three and half. And I spent Friday evening at Makan.

The seven-minute performances were a mix of music, comedy, poetry, and… things. Music without words, songs without music and an amazing tabla duet intercepted by standup comedy, storytelling and poetry recitals. One young woman took the mic to share her views about the definition of humanity. Initially she sounded out of place, and I can’t come up with a category to classify this under, but it was an opportunity for her to share and for us to listen. And like the rest, she was received a guitar smashing applause by the welcoming and enthusiastic audience.

I was enthralled by the abundant talent of mainly amateur performers. Some came out as natural performers, some found a home on the stage, letting go of inhibitions to interact with audience as if with old friends — maybe due to pervious experience in the same or another venue — and others struggled with their stage fright.  But all were equally welcomed — ok maybe some more than others — by a friendly and encouraging audience. The consensus was: if you muster up enough courage to step on the makeshift stage, you’ll get the superstar treatment.

It was almost therapeutic, for the performances and the audiences alike. As if by stepping into Makan that night was entering a safe haven; be yourself, experiment if you want, (you can even forget the lyrics and stutter,) and thou shall be rewarded.

The audience, me included, was equally rewarded. In addition to the inspiration provided by amateurs willing to take a risk on stage, the talent as I said earlier was abundant and entertaining. Two presented an animated, choreographed mix of children songs from the 1980s and 90s. Starting with the opening song of “Cinema El Atfal,” the duo elicited laughs as they stirred happy and silly childhood memories. And we all sang along. When their funny skit was over, one of them sat down to belt out a melancholic Aidy Al-Ayoubi song. The applause was roaring and I couldn’t even get their names.

There was a justifiable bias to performances grounded in Egyptian culture. Although they weren’t many, such dispersed acts offered short reprieves from the English-language performances and guitar playing to provide a much needed local touch to the talent on display. One such sensation was a tabla duet. Again the crowd was invigorated to the familiar sound of those oriental beats.

But the audience also appreciated the other not-so-local acts.

The Maqars, a duet of father and daughter, were a returning sensation. Their performance at a pervious open mic night was so successful that they repeated it and again to roaring applause. Whether it was for Malak’s strong and reverberating voice or her father’s impromptu songs in which he humorously mixed Arabic with English, the crowd went crazy.

Shady Ahmed, singing and playing three songs on his guitar all in English, also got us all to sing along. Moving masterfully from mellow to upbeat, he ended his performance to yet another roaring applause.

But the utmost highlight of the evening was Like Jelly. With just three songs, each preceded by a satirical story, the three-man and one-woman band mixed minimal Arabic lyric with one Portuguese song. The chemistry between the four was evident, so was their humor.

Next time they are playing, I’ll be there.

ElBaradie’s Star Power

Tags

Baradei, Cairo, change, Egypt, El Baradie, ElBaradei, Gamal, Hosni Mubarak, Mohamed, Muhammad, regime, sarah el sirgany, محمد البرادعي

It’s safe to say that the countdown has officially begun. This year’s parliamentary elections will pave the way for the presidential elections in 2011, drawing clearer image of what to expect the following year.

But until then, it doesn’t need a genius to pinpoint the ills plaguing our opposition, supposedly those at the frontline of the battle for change. No single coalition seems to hold its original members for more than six months, regardless of the idea that first brings them together. Popular movements lose momentum almost instantly. Political parties are either too inconsequential to make a difference or are waist deep in internal conflicts between power hungry ‘politicians’, concerned with nothing more but their share of an imaginary power pie. Even the Muslim Brotherhood, whose solid structure and strong social presence had once refuted any allegations of internal rifts, is now seeing these rifts materialize and spiral out of control.

That’s on the institutional level.

On the more individual one, there isn’t a single charismatic leader that enjoys the approval of the majority, at least among the circles of politicians and journalists closely following the rickety non-ruling-party political scene. In fact, it seems that it’s only those in these small circles of activists, politicians and pseudo politicians, journalists and few interested intellects that actually know any names of Egypt’s opposition landscape.

Even with the remote possibility of those opposition figures putting aside their not-so-grave differences (or should I dare say personal interests) to stand behind one candidate from amongst their ranks, this specific candidate would find it extremely difficult to reach out to those outside the aforementioned circles, to find the mass appeal so desperately needed to propel drastic political changes.

That’s why Mohamed ElBaradie is perfect for the job; he has the star power that most of our opposition lack. Yes star power; like the entertainment industry, politics is all about star power. He has the mass appeal required for any candidate to challenge the current rulers and advocates pretty much the same political platform promoted by the opposition.

That’s why it was surprising that many opposition politicians and political parties opposed his emergence on the scene with the same enmity in which the government launched its attack on the Nobel Peace Prize winner, often with false unfounded accusations.

(Un)fortunately, the man is not running for president; the terms he had put for himself as requirements to such endeavor were clear from the very first media interview. The terms, most notably constitutional changes and guarantees of the integrity of the elections, are unlikely to materialize in Egypt in these two years. ElBaradie, like one writer put it, is on his way to be Egypt’s leading dissident, not future presidential candidate.

Supporting ElBaradie doesn’t mean supporting Mubarak’s next presidential opponent; it’s uniting behind one man that has the potential of greasing the wheels of change, setting them in motion.

He arrives today (Friday, Feb. 19) at 3 pm, and plans have been set for a grand reception the Cairo International Airport; not by the government of course, but by popular movements advocating change. This doesn’t mean that the government is not involved; in addition talks of extra security measures to control or thwart the grand reception, there are reports of financial gains. One news agency said they were asked to pay LE 1,000 to gain access to airport to take photos; something automatically granted by their press pass.

For more about ElBaradie read Alaa El-Aswany’s column in Shorouk or its translation by my friends at The Boursa Exchange.

Also, here’s a superb cartoon by my dear friend Tarek Shahin about ElBaradie’s arrival.

Mini Travelogue 1: Whizzing through airports

Tags

Belgium, Brussels, Cairo, Egypt, London, Middle East, Muslim, profile random, profiling, Travel, UK, United Kingdom, United States

During the month leading up to my travel date, airports’ full-body scans were all the rage. News reports, articles, commentaries and editorials were dissecting the inevitable decision to use full body scans at airports. How much will they cost to install? How time consuming are they, especially at already busy airports? Are they ethical? Is child pornography an issue? Is celebrities’ sacred privacy safe? Etc..

The questions were endless. The debate continued, but the one thing I was worried about was the inevitable ‘random’ profiling. Tightening airport security always comes hand in hand with passenger ‘random’ profiling. The extra security measures can’t be applied on all passengers, or else all airports would be flying a handful of airplanes a day. And just to ensure the direction of this ‘random profiling’, the man who reignited the on-flight terrorism scare by attempting to blow up a plane on Christmas Day in the US was Muslim.

With a scarf on my head, an Egyptian passport and an Arab name, there’s nothing random about possible profiling for me. A certain 2007 incident at the Los Angeles Airport (the dear old LAX) comes to mind. There was nothing humiliating or invasive; but if you consider waiting at the airport for 4-5 hours for ‘special data registration’ after 20 hours of flying and transits without knowing when it would end or even the fate of your luggage a problem, then you’d understand why I am not fond of that memory. Those that waited with me didn’t look Middle Eastern and I couldn’t make any concrete assumption about overall ethnicity or religion. But if darker skin weighed more than fairer one, this waiting area could have tipped over the whole airport.

But I wasn’t going to the US this time around; I was heading to Europe, where all my experiences in its airports have been generally ok.  Yet, reading ‘random profiling’ over and over again made this multiple-stop trip an increasing worry.

But it was fine. Seriously, better than I could have ever imagined. Granted, there were longer queues at the security check at the Brussels airport, but that’s probably due to the unexpected snow that day that led to the cancelation of many flights (including mine), which eventually led many passengers to go through security again after struggling to find another flight out. By noon, the security check point was dealing with almost double the number of passengers expected at the time.

The only hint of remote profiling was when I was transferred from BritishAirways to American Airlines, which has stricter guidelines at the airline luggage check-in point (not official airport security). I got the same load of irritating, useless ‘security’ questions as everyone else. Could anyone have interfered in your luggage? Why are you visiting? Bla Bla Bla. But I think I was the only one asked to show my press card, which was in Arabic which this airline employee couldn’t understand, when I said I was a journalist. I don’t think the Belgian in front of me or the American behind me were asked to show further identification. I could have rightfully objected, but I really wanted to leave the city and it was the only flight available.

But still no profiling, random or otherwise at any official security level.

And to top it off, as I was leaving London to Cairo, the bearded security officer at Heathrow handed me my passport with the typical automated half-smile, saying: “Thank you, sister.”

I still don’t know what to make of that, but it makes me laugh whenever I remember it.

Mariam & Abdel-Rahman, Take 1

Tags

alternative, art, Cairo, downtwon, Egypt, Guitar, independent, Music, song, vocals

Last Saturday, January 16, Abdel-Rahman Hussein took hold of his guitar as Mariam Ali belted out a couple of songs in her powerful voice to the lucky attendants of the Hannfaninha Gallery 1^st anniversary celebrations.

Even though I’ve known Abdu for years, it was the first time I’ve seen him perform live. And what a treat. Like I’ve always heard, he’s one of the best guitar players. I’m no musician, but his skillful strumming doesn’t need an expert eye.

As for Mariam, many of you must be familiar with her voice now, having heard her on the radio (Nile FM) before. She doesn’t need much introduction; her warm voice literally speaks for itself.

And to top it off, the duo have an evident and delightful chemistry on stage.

Just watch the videos here. (I had to lower the quality of the second one to cut down uploading time; I’m still new to this video business).

And after you watch these videos and start regretting you weren’t there (which you definitely will), don’t fret. Both are playing tonight, Thursday Jan. 21, in Makan at 8:30 pm. It’s an open mic night, so there will be other acts too.

Be there!

Let the insanity begin

Tags

Cairo, Cairo International Film festival, Egypt, Film, india, sarah el sirgany

The festival started and so is the insanity. But I have to say, I’m still excited and enjoying the experience. Maybe I got used to the insanity that it doesn’t bother me as much.

For example, on Thursday during the premiere of Ahmed Abdullah’s Heliopolis, the entrance was crazy and there was no sense of organization. We were told that we had to buy tickets to get in, even though we had press passes. Then we discovered that press cards are valid on that night and we didn’t even get the seats assigned to us on the tickets. The cast and crew, who seemed to have trouble getting in as well, felt the need to apologize, repeatedly.

There was no need to do that. I myself have seen worse in previous years. I actually watched a film sitting on the floor of that same theater.

 

The thing is, while everyone kept commenting on the insanity of that premiere, I had other encounters on that day to leave me smiling. I’m watching great films and keep meeting interesting people. Just before the premiere and at the reception hosted by the Indian ambassador (India is the guest of honor at the fest), I met Vikas Swarup, the author of Q&A, the novel on which Slumdog Millionaire was based, Ahmed Maher, director of the Traveler, Khaled Aboul Naga and veteran Egyptian film distributor Antoine Zeind, among many more.

Yesterday, I went to the Samuel L. Jackson press conference. He was charming and the press conference was surprisingly, mmm… a press conference. He was actually asked about his career, his films and other filmmakers he worked with not just Obama and his impression of Egypt. My conference story will be in the Monday edition of Daily News Egypt. It’ll be available online on Sunday night.

The recurrent problem, however, is that many filmmakers are not told about the screenings of their own films, or are told at the last minute. And I thought we journalists had it bad. It happened three times so far, and Daily News Egypt’s culture editor Joseph Fahim will write all the details soon in the paper.

Our critics are still the same, though. And disorganization is still rife. On Friday, after discovering that the Moroccan movie we got excited to watch had pulled out of the international competition. There was another Italian movie playing instead, Marco Bellocchio’s My Mother’s Smile. After it, actor Neri Maracoré from Thursday’s film Friends at Bar Margherita walked in. He was told that this would be his press conference. It was clear to all of us that, like us, he too was a victim of disorganization. But some didn’t let go.

One critic insisted on discussing My Mother’s Smile with Maracoré. “You look like one of the actors in the film, are you sure you didn’t take part in it?” she told him. I had to interfere. I raised my hand and asked a question, while another audience member tried to knock some sense into said critic.

We did discuss My Mother’s Smile after all, but later in the day after another screening for director Bellocchio. I don’t remember said critic raising any questions about the film.

But what struck me, was my inability to structure a question in Arabic on the spot about deconstruction of religion and faith, the commercialization of religion and atheism. [My Mother’s Smile explores these issues and had drawn its share of criticism when it was released]. The thing is I read and write Arabic and have started my career as an Arabic-language reporter. But after some thinking, I realized that all the conversations and discussions I had about the issue were all in English. They’ve been all healthy debates about faith and religion, but realizing that I’ve never had those debates with Arabic speakers is scary.

—Follow me on Twitter for regular festival updates.