"A Little Rebellion Now and Then," Part 2

Around dawn on August 15th, Egyptian Security Forces backed by the Egyptian Army move in to break up the sit-in protests near Cairo University in al-Nadha Square and in the areas surrounding the Rabaa al-Adawiya Mosque. I should say at this point in my narrative that these two areas of the city are nowhere near one another. Many times when we watch a broadcast depicting violence from a place in which we are unfamiliar, we assume that the entire area is experiencing the horror we are witnessing. This is most often not the case. Cairo University and al-Nadha Square are located in a quarter of the city called Giza. Giza is a massive patchwork of urban clusters and small farms located on the western banks of the River Nile. The area most famously plays host to the Pyramids and the Great Sphinx. Several kilometers away to the east, across the Nile, is the heart of Cairo, the city proper. Densely populated and home to millions of people, Cairo is a teeming, bustling, pulsing jumble of high-rises, low-rises and no-rises, packed with narrow streets and every type of small market imaginable. Within this urban bazaar lay the Rabba al-Adawiya Mosque, one of the city's larger worship communities. For those of you who are interested and/or concerned, Ma'adi, the community in which we reside, is several kilometers to the south and the west of the al-Adawiya area, just on the east bank of the River Nile. During the protests, the al-Nadha and al-Adawiya areas look like titanic shanty-towns turned into war zones while most of Cairo's vast neighborhoods outside of these areas go on as normal or are very quiet.

Aware that weapons cachements from the Sinai have been slowly trickling into at least one of the areas, security detachments that move in to break up the al-Nadha and al-Adawiya sit-ins are prepared for stiff resistance. During the previous night, police cordon off both areas, allowing only one safe access/exit point through which protestors can leave. This tactic stongly suggests that the police "have rats to catch" and are interested in more than simply dispersing the protests.

At dawn security forces, semi-hooded men in dark uniforms wielding automatic weapons and backed by armored personnel carriers, move in with tear gas and, so the interim government claims, rubber bullets. Relatively speaking, the al-Nadha protestors respond quickly, stampeding through the one safe exit point. Some are killed in the stampede. There is some shooting, and some die of bullet wounds having been shot in the back. As far as I know, there are no fatalities among the security forces here. By noon the protest has been cleared, and police have secured the area.

The al-Adawiya area is much more problematic. As women and children rush toward the one exit point, shooting from both sides begins in earnest along the roads leading into the protest camp. By noon fatalities have piled up like so many draped corpses lined up in the mosque. Heavier weaponry is mobilized. Snipers take to the rooftops firing down on the crowds below. Fatalities increase. 

I am watching all of this transpire via Internet from the safety of our school. By the afternoon it is clear to me that there will be hundreds of fatalities today. Most media outlets are by now showing images of dead bodies piled up in nearby hospitals and mosques. I know how I am feeling at the moment but wonder how some of my Egyptian colleagues are feeling. I speak with "Mani" and "Fawaz," two women that work nearest my office, gently asking them about how they are feeling about the events as they unfold. 

Both women are Cairenes, peole born and raised in Cairo. Both are mothers. Mani, the younger of the two, is a modern Muslim (she does not wear a covering over her hair). Fawaz, the elder, is a Coptic Christian. As well as being fellow colleagues, they are close friends by the way (a narrow ray of hope that is not lost on me). They are in agreement about today: it is sad, but it is the inevitable result of a large, angry minority causing trouble amongst the people of Egypt. Both are supporters of the interim government, and they see the protestors as reckless individuals putting religious interests before natonal interests. 

"These people," Fawaz explains, "want a nation of Islam. They don't care about Egypt. They don't care that we have been a country for thousands of years. They reject this."

"They don't understand that we do not want Sharia law. We do not want a return to the Morsi government. They don't see that the Army is our sons, that the Army is the people," she continues, "they are all one." I note that Mani is in agreement. As a mother of a son and a daughter, Mani tells me that one day her son will proudly serve the nation. I find out that Egypt has compulsory military service for its young men. Most all men serve in the army at one point in their lives or another. According to Mani and Fawaz, men see military service as a kind of rite of passage, much the same as I have found that both Korean and Norwegian men see their compulsory military service.

Then I ask a rather obvious question: how on earth did a member of the Muslim Brotherhood win the recent national election? Fawaz, as if expecting the question, has a detailed answer.

"Three reasons," she begins. "The poor people of this country are conservative and religious. They have never voted before, and they liked a candidate from a religious background. Morsi from the Freedom and Justice Party and the Muslim Brotherhood was that candidate."

"Second," she continues, "we are tired of Mubarak. Ahmed Shafik was his Prime Minister, you know. Even so, Shafik won just below 50% of the second vote. But, we wanted to try a new style of government, a new party out, you know. We wanted to give this Muslim Brotherhood a chance. We didn't know that they would begin making so many bad decisions."

"Third ... and no offense meant, Mr. Kyle," she resumes, making me wonder where this conversation is about to go. "The visit from Hillary just days before the run-off election made it seem to many Egyptians that the American government was supporting Shafik like they supported Mubarak. We didn't want this any more; I am sorry if I offend." 

"No offense taken, Fawaz," I sheepishly respond. 

I do not know if what she is telling me is the absolute truth, but it is her perception and a perception shared by her friend, Mani. Perception being reality, it might as well be true. If true, the unintended consequence of a Hillary Clinton visit to Egypt just days before a run-off election between standing Prime Minister, Ahmed Shafik, and Muslim Brotherhood candidate, Mohammed Morsi, may have tipped the scales in Morsi's favor. This is morbid irony.

I return to my office, trying to continue to work despite the onslaught of press coverage from the BBC, CNN and Al Jazeera; press coverage that I just cannot seem to switch off.