Politics and Polution
First off, I must apologize to my avid readers (hey Mom :) I know this is only a blog and for all purposes, the ramblings of a jet-lagged twenty-something, but my noble and ethical journalistic sensibilities compel me to tell you, I have led you astray. I am herewith issuing a formal retraction.
In a previous post I made mention of a menagerie of posters depicting what I brilliantly referred to as "Mubarak and Friends." Catchy, I know. But it turns out, nearly totally false. The majority of these posters are in fact fliers advertising one or the other of at least twenty different political parties represented here. How is this possible you ask? We in America barely get by with two and a half? (Looking at you TEA Party) Allow me to share with you what I was able to gather while eating pizza . . . in a country where pork isn't served. At all . . . I would like to take a short moment to stress how critical I think pork is to the noble art of pizza throwing. . . There. The moment has been taken. Moving on:
I was at a pizza parlor yesterday in Zamalek. There are 6 islands in the Nile, as Hamdi has told me, and Zamalek sits on an island in the center of Cairo. The neighborhood is green. The trees are humungous and fantastic and some, viciously barbed. For being in the center of the city, the air is considerably cleaner here. Zamalek houses many of the students at American University of Cairo and there are smaller colleges that sit on the island as well. They tell me it is one of the most desirable neighborhoods. If I were going to live in Egypt, it would definitely be there. At Pizza Mia in Zamalek, four of us launched, or perhaps I may have dragged them, into a political discussion. Here is what I learned:
There are at least 20 parties represented in the elections. They sport titles of such vague similarity, I could not differentiate between them without my new friends Sheri and Ahmed to navigate. The Democratic Front Party, Democratic Generation Party, Tomorrow Party, Authenticity Party, Center Party, Justice Party, Egyptian Social Democratic Party, National Democratic Party . . . I have a newly cultivated gratitude for political groups who are kind enough to cut through the BS and let you know what the hell they stand for (Again, looking at you TEA Party. I may not like you, but damn it I respect you. **Dramatic Pause**)
Thankfully, apparently aware of the inevitable confusion this will cause most Egyptians, they have allocated themselves individual clip-art images! A ladder! A soccer ball! A TANK!! This is also, apparently, an attempt to bring the vast number of illiterate Egyptians into the voting booths. A noble goal, to be sure. Until you discover that campaigning in the rural areas has mostly consisted of men riding around in cars and yelling "Vote for Soccer Ball!" Context be damned. There will be times in the next year where I'm sure I'll feel as though I'm just being shouted at from a series of soapbox pulpits, but this is something wholly different.
It also seems that in a number of areas the poorly educated have been taken advantage of and convinced if they do not vote, they will be fined severely. And if they're going to vote, they may as well just vote for Soccer Ball!
The final of three rounds of voting takes place next week and the clear frontrunner in this election is the Muslim Brotherhood's Freedom and Justice Party (FJP). Sheri and Ahmed characterize them as undesirable, but the preferred alternative to the far more hard-lined Salafist Nour Party, the FJP's strongest competitor.
Also at the table is Steve who is also a native of the Willamette Valley. We fall easily into a discussion about the elections in the States. Mostly because he's been in Egypt and desperately needs to be filled in. He's missed out on so many things! Herman Cain, that adorable and adulterous SOB! Rock Perry and his quick witted antics. And the most amazing, frontrunner Newt! But the parallels between the elections here and those in the States are easily drawn, particularly the incontrovertible role religion plays for voters.
It is easy to allow politics to bring you down, and in a hurry. And there is no perfect political system. I think we're all trying to figure it out, but for all the shortcomings, it is clear that this still feels like progress here. They are right to be skeptical of corruption, I'm sure, but right to celebrate as well. And a celebration is exactly what Hamdi says he expects to come.
Hamdi has been kind enough to pick up random fares in Zamalek to wait for me and after work he takes me the long way around the river. At sunset we drive across Imbaba Bridge, built in 1891 and rumored to have been designed by Gustave Eiffel. Hamdi is the best tour guide, ever. Anyway, the anniversary of the revolution arrives on January 25, and Hamdi expects a great celebration and a gathering of millions in Tahrir Square. The purples and pinks of the sunset play off the river and grandiose hotel facades. It is a beautiful and gentle moment for such an abrupt city. Just down the left bank a few blocks sits, albeit awkwardly, the burned out and collapsing remnants of Mubarak's ministry offices. (The building says "National Council for Women" but Hamdi assures me that was not the motive for its burning.) The charred remains of the building smack in the middle of the main hotel drag make it absolutely impossible for the tourism industry to create an air of removal and separation from the politics here.
It's better that way, I think.
In a previous post I made mention of a menagerie of posters depicting what I brilliantly referred to as "Mubarak and Friends." Catchy, I know. But it turns out, nearly totally false. The majority of these posters are in fact fliers advertising one or the other of at least twenty different political parties represented here. How is this possible you ask? We in America barely get by with two and a half? (Looking at you TEA Party) Allow me to share with you what I was able to gather while eating pizza . . . in a country where pork isn't served. At all . . . I would like to take a short moment to stress how critical I think pork is to the noble art of pizza throwing. . . There. The moment has been taken. Moving on:
I was at a pizza parlor yesterday in Zamalek. There are 6 islands in the Nile, as Hamdi has told me, and Zamalek sits on an island in the center of Cairo. The neighborhood is green. The trees are humungous and fantastic and some, viciously barbed. For being in the center of the city, the air is considerably cleaner here. Zamalek houses many of the students at American University of Cairo and there are smaller colleges that sit on the island as well. They tell me it is one of the most desirable neighborhoods. If I were going to live in Egypt, it would definitely be there. At Pizza Mia in Zamalek, four of us launched, or perhaps I may have dragged them, into a political discussion. Here is what I learned:
There are at least 20 parties represented in the elections. They sport titles of such vague similarity, I could not differentiate between them without my new friends Sheri and Ahmed to navigate. The Democratic Front Party, Democratic Generation Party, Tomorrow Party, Authenticity Party, Center Party, Justice Party, Egyptian Social Democratic Party, National Democratic Party . . . I have a newly cultivated gratitude for political groups who are kind enough to cut through the BS and let you know what the hell they stand for (Again, looking at you TEA Party. I may not like you, but damn it I respect you. **Dramatic Pause**)
Thankfully, apparently aware of the inevitable confusion this will cause most Egyptians, they have allocated themselves individual clip-art images! A ladder! A soccer ball! A TANK!! This is also, apparently, an attempt to bring the vast number of illiterate Egyptians into the voting booths. A noble goal, to be sure. Until you discover that campaigning in the rural areas has mostly consisted of men riding around in cars and yelling "Vote for Soccer Ball!" Context be damned. There will be times in the next year where I'm sure I'll feel as though I'm just being shouted at from a series of soapbox pulpits, but this is something wholly different.
It also seems that in a number of areas the poorly educated have been taken advantage of and convinced if they do not vote, they will be fined severely. And if they're going to vote, they may as well just vote for Soccer Ball!
The final of three rounds of voting takes place next week and the clear frontrunner in this election is the Muslim Brotherhood's Freedom and Justice Party (FJP). Sheri and Ahmed characterize them as undesirable, but the preferred alternative to the far more hard-lined Salafist Nour Party, the FJP's strongest competitor.
Also at the table is Steve who is also a native of the Willamette Valley. We fall easily into a discussion about the elections in the States. Mostly because he's been in Egypt and desperately needs to be filled in. He's missed out on so many things! Herman Cain, that adorable and adulterous SOB! Rock Perry and his quick witted antics. And the most amazing, frontrunner Newt! But the parallels between the elections here and those in the States are easily drawn, particularly the incontrovertible role religion plays for voters.
It is easy to allow politics to bring you down, and in a hurry. And there is no perfect political system. I think we're all trying to figure it out, but for all the shortcomings, it is clear that this still feels like progress here. They are right to be skeptical of corruption, I'm sure, but right to celebrate as well. And a celebration is exactly what Hamdi says he expects to come.
Hamdi has been kind enough to pick up random fares in Zamalek to wait for me and after work he takes me the long way around the river. At sunset we drive across Imbaba Bridge, built in 1891 and rumored to have been designed by Gustave Eiffel. Hamdi is the best tour guide, ever. Anyway, the anniversary of the revolution arrives on January 25, and Hamdi expects a great celebration and a gathering of millions in Tahrir Square. The purples and pinks of the sunset play off the river and grandiose hotel facades. It is a beautiful and gentle moment for such an abrupt city. Just down the left bank a few blocks sits, albeit awkwardly, the burned out and collapsing remnants of Mubarak's ministry offices. (The building says "National Council for Women" but Hamdi assures me that was not the motive for its burning.) The charred remains of the building smack in the middle of the main hotel drag make it absolutely impossible for the tourism industry to create an air of removal and separation from the politics here.
It's better that way, I think.
Comments
Post a Comment