Article 19: Freedom of Expression

This has definitely been one of those “Cairo, you’re making me question my sanity” weeks. I normally wouldn’t consume a whole box of dates in two days or box of Digestives biscuits in one sitting but it seems that my stress levels have sky rocketed to something unfathomable.

I can usually handle the continual shouts and whistles from cars speeding by but I’ve felt so uneasy this week. Maybe it’s because of some papers regarding women’s rights in the MENA region or simply because of all the horror stories and articles I’ve had to read to prepare for them.

On Thursday I gave a presentation on sexual harassment in Egypt and was just appalled at the behavior and responses of many of my classmates—yes, even the women. While doing research on the topic I noticed  that sexual harassment is not specifically addressed or even defined in the Egyptian constitution *which will be reconstructed in the following year—who knows if women will even be able to participate when writing the constitution.* There are in fact only three articles *Yes, just THREE* that can be applied in cases of harassment. The articles pertain to insulting behavior, indecent behavior, and sexual assault. All of this information I found extremely frustrating and belittling, especially because Egypt ratified the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW)  in 1981.

It is so very obvious that these rules are not being implemented within society and I don’t think that many people in the classroom even knew about these articles beforehand. I understand that it can be hard to talk about this touchy subject in Egyptian culture, so humor may be involved to lighten the mood and make conversation a little more easy going. However, I found myself so frustrated that a few of the male students could not wrap their brains around what I, along with my professor and some foreign classmates, was trying to speak with them about. There were plenty of opportunities for all of the Egyptian students in the class to speak up and freely express their concern and experiences with this problem but some only joked about the matter or had only sexist things to say.

*Please take note however that there were a few among us, men included, that were really interested in the topic and asked fantastic questions concerning the implementation of certain policies and the current initiatives that are being created in Cairo to combat sexual harassment.*

If there is no respect in the classroom (a safe haven in the middle of Cairo where freedom of expression is allowed, for the most part) when discussing an issue such as sexual harassment then how is there going to be respect for women on the street? Is it okay for women to be groped and shoved in the Metro or when they are trying to assist protestors in Tahrir? Absolutely not.

On another hand, I am completely ready for December 8^th to arrive! One of my best friends, Jayanni, is coming from Tennessee to spend two weeks with me here! I’m REALLY looking forward to seeing her in the midst of this chaos—she’s always been my breath of fresh air. We’re planning on going to Alexandria, Luxor, and ALL of the sites in Cairo that I have not been able to see yet (there are too many to count)! Inshallah!

Also, I’m really looking forward to going to Filderstadt, Germany in just three weeks! I’m hoping that it will be beautiful there during Christmas and hopefully snow will be everywhere. I’ve been waiting for so long to go back—these next weeks will be almost unbearable!

A break from Cairo and all of its hustle and bustle is just what I need.

"You're a desert girl now."

Sometimes I go through these maddening stages where all I want to do is write. I have this lovely little journal that I purchased before I came to Cairo. I’ve written bits and thoughts of things that I’ve learned, heard, seen, or tasted. Sometimes I also find dessert (also DESERT) crumbs and varying colors of coffee stains that make a nice addition to the bare pages that I started to write on, which is quite humorous because that helps me to remember where I was and what I was doing on that day.

However, life has been a bit chaotic lately and I tend to get dates and times mixed up and frequently forget how to function properly on a day-to-day basis. Perhaps this means I am adapting quite well to Egyptian society? Let’s hope so. I have fortunately laid off of the shisha but have found other devices of self destruction, such as Haribo gummies in the shape of teeth and cinnamon porridge, to help my daily advances.

In the last few weeks I’ve experienced some rather interesting things, one topic concerning the outlook of AUC students and its female population in general I will have to save and elaborate more on during another blog.

Sandboarding.

This is definitely one of the best things that I have done in Egypt so far. After getting a late start and having to drive a bit longer than expected, which was perfectly fine due to the fun music and great company, I found myself in the middle of nowhere. In this case, the middle of nowhere looks like a mirage—nothing but desert sand and massive, beautiful dunes for miles. I’ve never seen anything like it in my whole life. 

As my friend Angela and I were unloading the truck/trying to make ourselves look busy, the tour guides quickly gave directions to another party that came in a different caravan. They started climbing and slipping up to the top of the dune and slowly began to slide back down while sitting on their bottoms.  I then heard, “Whitney, yalla!”

I found myself clambering up the sandy dune and began to wish for death. It was outrageously hot and I felt like an injured mountain goat, or perhaps a rhinoceros, while making my way to the top. FINALLY I was able to reach the peak. It took longer than expected from immense amounts of laughing and buckets of sand in my socks and eyes. I stood up and tried to take everything in—the view was surreal. All I could see was the beautiful desert that at times looked an eerie shade of blue. The rays of the massive sun and the cool, salty wind teased my skin and hair. Goose bumps covered my body. It was a breathtakingly, gracious reminder of why I had fallen in love with Egypt. I was startled that this place had remained somewhat the same for thousands of years. I was lucky beyond belief to experience such a creation. 

I felt a nudge on my shoulder and realized I had to go down at some point. I decided to be a scaredy cat the first time and sat down as securely on the board as possible. It started moving through the sand so quickly and I completely forgot what I was supposed to do after leaving the top of the dune. Fortunately, I screamed my way down the dune and ended at the bottom without any battle wounds. The second trek to the top proved to be as successful and I actually managed to sand board without falling all of the way to the bottom of the hill! It was so invigorating and exciting! At this point I was exhausted and decided Angela and I needed nourishment.

After several peanut butter and strawberry sandwiches later, followed by apples, grapes, and popcorn, we continued to trek around the desert. I felt like I walked miles and miles in my bare feet as the day began to grow cooler. Before we knew it we had spent hours playing and the sun grew tired of our frenzied adventures. We marched for the last time up to the top of an untouched dune for the most beautiful sunset that I’ve ever seen. The sun didn’t look like a sun at all. It was so strange and pink, like a huge glowing candy ball without any rays beaming off of it. The setting sun was selfish and only stayed for a few moments before it melted into the horizon.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

RED.

Signs of my beloved Autumn and the beautiful Tennessee season.

The best apples to use when making candied treats for Halloween.

Slightly provocative and absolutely carefree—how I always feel when wearing red.

My favorite color to wear on my lips—MAC Russian Red, to be exact.

 

The cloak that conceals my favorite fairy tale character’s brave little face.

Dreams of the perfect crimson shoes that I have yet to find.

Strands of my mother’s fiery hair while she works on her garden and the rays of the country sun setting after.

The current blush of my face, I just stumbled out of bed after tossing and turning all night—bewildered and exasperated.

A sign of the building resentment in my tired green eyes.

RED—my blood is boiling.

RED—the only color that I can see.

RED.
It means STOP.
Not go, damn it.
STOP.
Why is it than when a woman says, ”STOP” some men have a tendency to GO?

 

For instance, last night my friend was in a taxi on her way to meet me for shisha at Villa 55, perhaps one of our favorite afternoon places in Maadi, Cairo. While on her way to the restaurant she noticed that the taxi driver kept looking back at her legs, even though her modest skirt came down to her knees. When giving the driver directions of how to reach the restaurant the driver commented on how good her Arabic was and proceeded to reach back and rub her legs. My friend quickly pushed his hand away and he grabbed onto it while she was resisting and forced his way onto her legs again. She yelled “NO” and “STOP” but he kept driving the taxi until she opened the side of the door and began to drag her feet on the ground until he came to a complete stop.

Is this necessary, to have to throw oneself out of moving vehicle to feel safe and secure? My initial thought would be no. I’m not trying to generalize. Not every taxi driver in Egypt is like this and a majority of men in the world would not behave this way, although occurrences like this happen all over the globe at every moment of every day.

I can’t help but think of the several instances when I was back in Knoxville working at FIZZ in Market Square. A slightly deluded and deranged man would often come into the boutique to browse around drunkenly, possibly buy a few things, and stare at me with immense interest. He began to frequent the store more often and I would have to dash to the back of the store and the manager would have to appear so he would leave without bothering any customers or me. It got to the point where we had to buy a bell to keep at the front of the store to ring in case the man came in (often times my co-workers and I would forget about the symbolic importance of the bell and would sometimes make up little tunes to play if no one was in the store, then whoever was in the back would race to the front to make sure that the creeper wasn’t doing something outrageous…which he did on a few occasions). He even decided to give me the nickname “Little Red Riding Hood”.

 

Finally, it got to the point where I was being stalked. One day I was opening the store for an hour by myself and the man came in. Like a wolf he cornered me behind the desk of the store and I could not get to a phone or away from him. He tried to touch my red hair that he was so fond of but I couldn’t hide my face from him. At this point I backed away and said, “No, stop please.” Then he began muttering about guns and how I should protect myself. He asked if I liked guns and I felt my knees buckle beneath me. I prayed for a cloak of protection. I begged God for him to leave. ***My closest friends and family have always been concerned about my lack of the “sixth sense” that most women possess. At this moment ALL of my senses were raging and I felt like someone was stabbing me in the stomach, making my inside writhe with the strangest pain. I felt so trapped and confined—which is my biggest fear, to not be able to move or go when I want.*** Two women walked into the store and at that moment I swore they were angels. Then, like the evanescence of a dream, the man left after a few terrifying seconds. I miraculously pulled myself together and managed to walk out from behind the counter to call the police.

I’ve heard so many stories of small assaults such as this and know that my own loved ones (my beautiful and strong sorority sisters, amazing church  and family members, and unforgettable mentors) have experienced such injustices. One should note that women are not the only ones who receive this type of treatment! My best gay friend has also been the subject of harassment and unwanted contact.

Cairo has reminded me on a daily basis of why I have come here. Fortunately, it’s not to the point where I’ve had to get one of these bad boys but they are a rather interesting invention. Who's afraid of the big bad wolf now!? Rape Axe: Take Back the Power http://www.antirape.co.za/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=6&Itemid=18
I’ve had to behave a bit differently and have had to wrap myself in a sort of meekness that I am definitely not used to but you can bet your bottom dollar that my cloak is not a boring and dull, old thing. It’s effervescent, full of life, and most importantly…RED.

Sep 27, 2011 2:41:23 PM | Current Affairs, Travel