Cubist Cairo: the Puzzles of Egypt

I can say it with pride. I have never regarded painting as an art merely for the purpose of entertainment and amusement. As my pen and my paint do happen to be my weapons, I wanted to use them to penetrate deeper and deeper into a knowledge of the world and of people so that this knowledge might set all of us more and more free each day.
--Pablo Picasso

I am trying to be a little more up-to date with this, and I have a lot to write about, not merely a list of things I’ve done since I last wrote, but some of the things I’m experiencing, reflecting on and trying to interpret as much as possible. I want to tell you all about the pyramids and the Sphinx and my travels, but this also my space to try to make meaning of the barrage of sights and sounds that surround me in Cairo, and share this with you, to “penetrate deeper into the knowledge of the world and of people,” although I’m not sure about setting us free. I don’t really think that’s up to me.

Last Sunday I went with my roommate Sandy to a movie about Islam called The Fog is Lifting. It was a video introduction to Islam, and given that I’ve been studying Islam in one form or another since high school, I knew many of the basics, although there are many different ways to interpret and explain the tradition. The movie was targeted at non-Muslims, and an international audience although, if anything, it seemed to direct itself to Americans, trying to correct common misconceptions about the faith. It was strange to watch an introductory video about Islam to a roomful of faithful Muslims, but it was standing room only by the time we arrived.

Cairo continually challenges my own assumptions that I am not yet aware of, and this was a case in point. I understand intellectually that, as professor Omar from Notre Dame said, there are almost as many Islams as there are Muslims, though all share the same centers of gravity. Yet going in, I did not expect there to be such a lively discussion afterwards. I assumed that, among Muslims, the basics would not inspire that much debate. Yet the foreigners in the audience asked about the usual hot topics, women’s rights, polygamy, jihad, how Islam can be reconciled with “acknowledging faith in Jesus alone,” etc, and the film’s director and former Imam at American University in Washington, provided answers and food for thought. And in response, many Muslim members of the audience offered their own interpretations, explanations and ideas about their faith to the non-believing members of the audience. They also asked their own questions, seeking greater understanding of their faith. It was lively, thought-provoking and one of the continual reminders that I cannot assume consensus or uniformity when there is none. Cairo has far too much to teach me, but if I let my implicit assumptions go unchallenged, I will return home with only a caricature of what the city really is. Its people, its faiths, its politics are dynamic and too complicated to comprehend, but I must continue to struggle with it.

There was more fuel for thought at the movie screening. As I said, when we got there, it was standing room only, but while we were standing, I saw people who were already seated ahead of us suddenly stand up. Sandy and a couple of the ushers told me that they were clearing seats for foreigners, and I was welcome to take a seat. I decided I would rather stand. I was tired, I wanted to sit. But I didn’t, because I would rather stand by my roommate than sit among strangers; there were many there who deserved to sit much more than I. And it was my act of rebellion against the special treatment of foreigners in Cairo. Don’t call me Rosa Parks; I wouldn’t even call this solidarity. I just have a strange relationship with all this special treatment. In Cairo, English is the language of money. Foreigners get taxis and tables at restaurants, get into clubs and behave much differently than the locals can simply because they are foreigners. It’s not right, and it’s not fair, but it’s how it works. I can’t avoid the advantages all the time, but I found it important to make a stand. I can’t quite reconcile in my mind how I feel about being an American in Cairo. We do a lot of good. For example, half of AUC’s equipment has the USAID sticker on it and most of the buildings have plaques declaring themselves “A Gift from the American People.” But what are the costs of this much American influence? I am grateful for what my country does to Egypt and for my opportunities. But because of us, in some contexts, Egyptians are second class citizens of their own country. It’s about as much of a puzzle as a Picasso painting.

And more food for thought. The other day I tried to get some reading done on the top floor of the library. There’s a nice sitting area in the open, on the roof. I looked down and saw something I couldn’t have expected. There’s an empty lot across the street from campus surrounded by high walls; I often pass it by when going off in pursuit of lunch. But from high up, I saw that the lot isn’t at all empty. There are 3 or 4 shacks there, made out of whatever materials were available. I observed laundry hung out to dry, and then a mother and two little boys, maybe 3 and 5 years old playing in the stony, empty ground. Who are they? Why are they allowed to remain? Have I witnessed the world’s most sparsely populated slum? I really don’t know, but I can’t get over the presence of these makeshift houses, hidden from view yet so close to downtown Cairo, with its banks, universities. Yet they have not been forced out even though they occupy prime property, and this is a blessing to them; the US can be all too willing to relocate the poor for convenience or progress, as I saw clearly in Chicago. Since I cannot really provide much knowledge or insight here, I will use my camera as my weapon to penetrate into the knowledge of the world, or at least crack it a bit. Thank you for listening, I hope this makes at least a little sense to you.

In constant pursuit of understanding,
Laura