Encounters in Ma'adi

We spend our first full day in Egypt touring Ma'adi, the affluent, Cairo suburb in which we live. We are met at our flat by Tina, an American English teacher who came to Cairo to teacher for two years only. That was eight years ago. On this bright sunny morning, Tina is serving as our school buddy as well as our local tour guide. She speaks decent Arabic and knows Ma'adi well. She tells us that there was not a buddy system when she first came to the school; it was sink or swim in the good old days before the Arab Spring. That has all changed now. William, the school superintendent and seasoned overseas veteran, ushered in a comprehensive school safety network and buddy system for the school's 175 faculty. He leaves nothing to chance. Tina will be our constant companion for the next several weeks until we become more acclimated to Egyptian customs and social mores.

We walk through a narrow maze of apartment blocks and small, upscale shops. Ma'adi is intensely green. Every road and madan (roundabout) teems with tropical trees and flowery shrubs. Dana and I recognize several varieties of plants we have in Memphis: hibiscus, lantana and crepe myrtles. Some plants we recognize but are foreign to Tennessee. We stroll past the occasional banyan tree, for example. Other plants, like a tree that looks quite like a giant wisteria in full bloom, are completely new to us. Noting our interest, Tina points some of them out.

Not too far from our flat, we stop when Dana and I spot a two-story poster of General Abdul Fattah al-Sisi suspended from one of the apartment flats. The poster is flanked by two rather prominent Egyptian flags fluttering in the warm breeze. Tina tells us about the school's experiences during the final weeks and months leading up to the recent coup. She is politely interrupted by an older Egyptian man walking past us. He greets us and, pointing up at the poster, he flashes a smile giving us a thumbs-up sign. He is a supporter of the coup and is hopeful of a more transparent and democratic process to come. He is not alone. Millions of Egyptians participated in the public demonstrations that culminated in the July 3rd departure and subsequent arrest of President Mohammed Morsi. Many here see General al-Sisi as a protector of the democratic process.

We continue on our walk through our section of Ma'adi. The school is within an easy walking distance to our flat, and so Tina shows us the way to the school. We approach the school from the east. Cairo American College was established and built in 1945, making it one of the oldest international schools in the world. The school facility takes up an entire block in residential Ma'adi. Indeed, the school is a landmark here, and the residents of Ma'adi take good care of it. The school grounds are surrounded by a 15-foot stone wall with informal security posts at odd intervals along the base of the wall. Two years ago during the early phase of the Revolution, these posts were manned by local police armed with semi-automatic rifles. Today CAC security people man the posts, armed with a lifetime of experience living within Ma'adi and a deep knowledge of the local residents. The CAC security group has helped the school further integrate into the local community. They love their school, the teachers and the kids as much as they love their community; indeed they see these elements as one and the same.

We stop to chat with Abdel, one of the security men that Tina knows well. He greets us warmly, like family members. After asking about summer experiences and the health of family members, the talk soon strays toward the ongoing revolution. Abdel tells us that his nephew is among the protestors holding a pro-Morsi sit-in vigil outside of the Rabaa al-Adawiya Mosque in the northwest quarter of the city. He worries about his nephew's safety given the temporary government's promise to break up such sit-in vigils. Still, he applauds the protestors' cause and their bravery.

"President Morsi," he continues, "is a good man in his heart. He is a moral man who loves his country and his people."

"But" he says, holding up his index finger, "such a man like Morsi is maybe not so good for the times now. I think now maybe we need a different man, maybe better for the times now. Someone like Mohammed Ali," he proclaims, making a reference to the Egyptian unifier who wrestled his kingdom away from the ruling Ottoman Empire some two centuries ago. We wish Abdel and his family well, and we continue on with our neighborhood tour.

I learn a valuable lesson today. Passions here in Egypt run deep, and everyone has their own opinion of the situation. As an American, I am uncomfortable with the idea that a democratically elected person was deposed by the military. As much as I disliked President Bush, for example, I acknowledged his legitimate right to rule based on electoral results. Sometimes we have to wait until the next election to get a better government. On the other hand, the humanist in me sees something special about millions of people taking to the streets to protest a government they see as being unfair. This is a kind of passion for democracy we do not typically see in the West. 

What I learn is that I need to listen. This is not a time for me to chime in, but it is a great time for me to observe. And like all Egyptians, it is also a time to wait and see.

The next day, Dana and I feel comfortable enough with Ma'adi to walk to school without Tina. As we emerge from our flat, the mobile rings. It is Teresa, and she is on her way to pick us up. There is a large Muslim Brotherhood, pro-Morsi demonstration forming just outside of the British Petroleum offices in Ma'adi. The offices are just down the street from the school, and we need to take an alternate route. We wait, and Tina duly picks us up. We take another route to the school, but from a distance I get my first look at the members of the Muslim Brotherhood.