The Muslim Brotherhood

They are an organization that has been around for almost a century. On this hot, sunny morning, they are chanting and looking rather intimidating; and thankfully they are not at all interested in me or the knot of teachers with whom I am traveling. They are the members of the Muslim Brotherhood, an Egyptian institution formally established in the late 1920s to promote Islam throughout secular Egypt and to provide charitable aid to people living in places where the government and the local NGOs either don't or won't go. They are also, at least technically, Egypt's ruling political party, having captured more seats as a result of the elections in 2011 and 2012 than any other political party in Egypt. They even won the Egyptian presidency in 2012. President Mohammed Morsi is a prominent member of the Brotherhood.

That all changed on July 3rd, 2013, when the army under the command of General Abdul Fattah al-Sisi forcibly removed President Morsi and many of his top aides and political party members from office, placing them under arrest and detaining them at a yet-to-be-disclosed location.

Constitution thus suspended, al-Sisi has organized an interim government backed by his military. Within the next six months the interim government promises a modified constitution, a fresh round of elections and a more transparent, more democtratic society. While many Egyptians approach these promises with an interesting mixture of hope tinged with skepticism, the members of the Muslim Brotherhood have become outraged and evangelized as a result of recent events. Even as the crowds supporting the removal of President Morsi dissipate, they are replaced by crowds demanding the reinstatement of President Morsi and the re-establishment of democracy. Thousands of Brotherhood supporters have descended on the Rabaa al-Adawiya Mosque in the northwest quarter of the city and on the grounds of Cairo University across the River Nile in the Giza area of the city. The sit-in protests have lasted since July 3rd, and the protestors say they will stay until Morsi is reinstated. The leaders of the interim government, General al-Sisi and interim President, Adly Mansour, have promised to clear the protestors and restore complete order. Impasse established.

That brings us to today where bus-loads of Muslim Brothers are being shipped into our quiet neighborhood to stage an "impromptu" protest. The target, the headquarters of British Petroleum. The issue, the perceived tacit support among Western firms toward the interim government. BP headquarters are just down the street from our school, and the presence of the chanting, bearded members of the Brotherhood has prompted our school buddy and guide, Tina, to pick us up from our flat this morning and show us an alternative route to the school. 

Blocks away from the school, we can hear the cadence of hundreds of chanting men. We ask Tina if she can understand any of the chants. She cannot understand much of it, but she can pick out the Brothers' mantra, "Islam is the solution." We cross one of the spoked streets of Ma'adi, and I look right, up toward the nearby intersection and the BP building. In the distance, I see bearded men holding aloft several placards. I can distinguish images of President Morsi and slogans written in Arabic. A few of the men are wearing dishdashas, the flowing white robes that are relatively traditional in Cairo and kumas, the circular caps worn by some men in the region. Others are dressed in more Western garb. From my vantage point, all seem serious. I also spot one or two police officers, present, I suppose, to buffer the protestors from would-be onlookers. I do not however, see any onlookers. Most of the local residents out this morning are doing exactly what we are doing, giving the marchers a wide berth thus avoiding any possibility of trouble.

We arrive safely at school to find the talk among staff, not surprisingly, centering around the protest march. Demonstrations are scarce in Ma'adi and something of a novelty for staff members with experience with the region's language and customs. One veteran member of staff witnessed this morning's march up close. She said she smiled and waved to one of the Brothers, who smiled and waved back, only to be admonished by one of his seniors. Discussion about the march continues on campus throughout the day.

For safety reasons, a number of us leave for the day together; there is, after all, the sense of safety in numbers. Our gate security guards let us know that the march ended quite some time ago and ended peacefully. We take our normal route from the school back to our flat. We do not see any trace of the march. The litter and detritus was long ago swept away, as if sweeping away the chanting images of the protesting Brothers. It is almost as if the march never happened; almost. The following day BP contacts our school's senior administrative team to inform us that they are re-evaluating their policies with respect to security and accompanying families. This could mean fewer BP-sponsored students at the school. Already this year, both the US and UK embassies have temporarily evacuated accompanying families. These families may or may not return. Other firms, namely Hyundai and Samsung, are relocating from Egypt to Rabat, Morocco. The Hyundai and Samsung families will never return.

I think about what all of this means for our school and Egypt in general. Our school enrollment drops. That's no good, especially for Dana and me. Egypt loses out on current foreign investment opportunities and future ones, the investment climate being much safer in other locations in the region. This is no good, either. In a nation with extremely high unemployment, Egyptians need all of the job opportunities they can get. Neither is the current impasse good for foreign firms already operating here because firm owners now feel as if they have to relocate, and they cannot recoup some of their costs. About the only group that benefits from the chaos is the Brotherhood. They are able to stage these marches, causing firms to think twice. When firms do bolt, taking their valuable jobs with them, the Brotherhood can claim that the interim government is mis-managing the economy. The pragmatist in me sees a Catch 22.

The humanist in me however, sees the potential for a brighter Egypt, IF and only if constructive dialogue between the anti-Morsi camps and Brotherhood, pro-Morsi camps begins to happen. 

So far, no talks have been planned.

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.

Arriving in Cairo

I half expected that we would be landing amidst a guerilla skirmish. In my mind’s eye our nervous pilot would be sweating over his instrumentation, manhandling the aircraft through a narrow, heavily-patrolled air corridor; any deviation resulting in gunfire crackling from guerilla bands below. I expected to be rapidly ushered from the flight by helmeted soldiers. I expected to see barb-wire barricades and sneering German Shepherds; maybe a few wafting wisps of tear gas.

Instead, many of the Egyptians on the Frankfort-Cairo flight clapped as we touched down. Maybe they were expressing relief that they would soon be released from 3 ½ hour screaming session that one of the two-year-olds on the flight provided, but I rather think that they were genuinely happy to be home. My wife and I were greeted near the gate by a smiling, mustachioed Egyptian travel agent representing our new school; for once we were the people whose names were on the signs being held aloft by welcoming travel reps. Like VIPS, we were ushered through customs, immigration, and visa processing in less than ½ hour, a new personal record.  Our smiling agents then grabbed our bags from the conveyor and ushered us through the terminal where our school administrators waited along with school vans and drivers. So much for my tough-guy entry into Egypt.

Driving from Cairo International’s location in the northeast of the city to our ultimate destination in the southeast of the city, I scan the horizon for blackened columns of smoke, the tell-tale signs of current revolutionary activity. I see none. Businesses seem to be going about as usual along the highway, a crowded mixture of families in cars and trucks hauling everything from heavy construction equipment to refrigerated goods. What I do see is a lot of small, litter-strewn sand-dunes outlining much of the highway. I also see block after block of unfinished 10 to 15 story apartment buildings. These, as it turns out, are the tell-tale signs of Egypt’s Arab Spring. Started by contracting firms patronized by the Mubarak regime, the firms simply vanished two years ago, leaving behind hundreds and hundreds of half-finished, squared hulks, now quietly collecting dust and sand amidst the sprawling Egyptian suburbs.

45 minutes later and we are dropped off at our new 4-bedroom flat in one of Cairo’s affluent suburbs, Maadi. Many of Cairo’s 100,000+ expats live here. It is a labyrinthine enclave of low-slung executive apartment buildings, tree-lined streets, and small merchant shops. Maadi also plays host to our new school as well as a score of upper-end restaurants, many fine green-grocers and a western-style mall that sells many foreign foods. I noted with a strange mixture of delight and horror for example, a smashed box of Fruit Loops in the street not too far from our flat.

The entrance to our flat is green and welcoming. Our smiling building guard, Mohammed, shakes our
hands and introduces himself to us as we head up the broad, marble staircase, drivers toting our luggage in tow; they refused to let us help. We open our flat door to a gorgeous 10-room apartment complete with built-in kitchen and two balcony/sun-rooms. Our new school has even left us a bouquet of flowers on the dining room set and has stocked our kitchen and pantry with survival food and coffee; bless them.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that Egypt is a nation experiencing an ongoing revolution and quite a bit of very recent political and economic turmoil. I know there will be difficult and dark days ahead. I know this intellectually. This evening however, as we unpack our belongings, showering up after 20+ hour day of travel, I feel a sense of comfort and ease here that I have seldom in my travels abroad experienced before. Living here, it will be difficult to avoid getting lulled into a sense of security and complaceny.