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Gothenburg Fate

I came to Sweden with a very simple and what may seem to be a very harmless goal – to spend time with 2 of my best friends. Even though I may have other projects to spent my time worrying about, the previous project to keep on re-evaluating, and daily activities back home on which to focus my energy. Somehow it seemed only natural to put it all aside and come spend 4 days in a city I know little about and help support a friend speaking at a Swedish media event.

Here at the end of my journey I now see this journey as having had a much higher purpose. Through a series of coincidences and good conversations this became a trip that both inspired and educated me through the experiences of old and new friends. You can’t help but learn something when for several nights in a row you sit down for dinner and drinks with critical, creative, and experienced minds.

As I sat at dinner tonight polishing off some special Swedish dish, I couldn’t help but smile at the conversation going around from person to person at this table. It was better than most university classes I’ve ever experienced and just as exciting as any podcast discussion I’ve ever listened to with great interest. As we looked at the world of successes, failures, possibilities, and ideas, I realized I didn’t just come to Gothenburg to hang around. I came to this place to meet up with this group of friends and colleagues, to help organize my thoughts in order to be ready for my next challenges.

Thank you friends. And thanks Gothenburg.

The Difficult Part, After the Journey

Over the past 10+ years of traveling and creating media based on those journeys, I’ve discovered that the hardest part is not the journey itself, but what happens after. After all the excitement and the learning, most journeys end. And most times, it feels good to come home, examine what has been done, and reflect on that. This is especially true if you live in a community, as I do, where people love to discuss and reflect right along with you.

The trouble comes with that age old insensitive question – what next? What more will you do with what you have learned? What’s your next move? Will it be as interesting or exciting as this latest journey? Can’t you go back and build on the first journey?

Pondering the Pyramids of Giza. November 2012

Sometimes the answers fall into my lap. An invitation, inspiration or an idea that pull me like a magnet in whatever direction seems to be a good fit. Sometimes, however, the answer doesn’t come easy.

Budgets dry up. Invitations expire. Ideas get lost among other ideas. Even the belief in my own self and ability will waver at times. It may all be a natural progression when you’re following a personal mission that is so different from what we normally think of as “work” or “career”.

Thankfully whenever the question of “what’s next” has come up in the past, the answer never took long to appear. The answer sometimes comes from within, but more often comes with the help of good people in my life who understand what this is that I am dedicated to and sometimes see things that in the moment, I am not able to see.

This month will mark the end of the Arab Artists series here on my website. A five week journey that was so rich in learning and communication, it produced more than 3 months of content. Making it the longest series I have ever done for the podcast. A series I hope one day will have a part II. But for now, I’m thankful to have had a part I and that many of you have made the trip with me and enjoyed what came out of it. I honestly wish more people would give it a listen, I think there is an education in there that you can hardly get anywhere else. But hey, as my Egyptian and Lebanese friends would say (in different pronunciations): “khalas (????), you did your best.”

Now for what comes next….

Family That Doesn’t Recognize One Another

In the conclusion of our last major podcast of the Arab Artists Series on Radio Open Source, I told my podcasting partner Chris Lydon that throughout our experience in North Africa, including in Egypt, I felt like I was amongst family. That statement was no exaggeration or attempt to prove to the world that I was comfortable in a place that is now so notorious for its difficulties; that was a statement directly from my heart. It is also a statement that historically makes sense, as my heritage – Portuguese – is part of the larger story of the Mediterranean, where people, goods and culture have been circulating for over 2,000 years.

It is amazing to me, to recognize so many commonalities: in language, expressions, traditions, food, work, and attitudes that Portugal shares with Tunisia, or that Egypt shares with Portugal. Though any student of history would laugh knowing full well that the story of this region has, at different periods, tied these cultures together in one way or another.

That is until this present era. The era of intolerance, apathy, and the sadly misguided belief that people around the world, especially those originating from the Mediterranean, share nothing in common with the people in Egypt. Lets set aside the shared desire for democracy and justice that is almost universal on this planet. (though that alone should be enough) Consider that many people on the modern day Iberian peninsula, in southern France, and Italy in general, may actually look at the media and see the struggle taking place in Cairo and Tunis, and conclude that they have no connection to these people or their issues. Then consider again the amount of Americans, Canadians, decedents of immigrants now living throughout the globe, who’s ancestors came from this very region, yet today look and claim see no reason to care and no connection to that place and its people.

Somewhere, somehow, a mix of time, poor education, cowardice, and perhaps affluence, led people who surely believe themselves to be honest and good to the conclusion that whats going on over there has nothing to do with them. They replaced what are very real and incredible connections from perhaps not all that long ago, with the story that they are a different people, who don’t think the same way or want the same things.

Me, I know what I know and I know what I felt. A feeling that grew stronger everyday based on big and small conversations, gestures, and actions I will tell stories of for the rest of my life. A feeling that when I open a book and read the rich history of this region, is confirmed: I felt like I was amongst family, because when it comes to culture, history, and -yes- basic life wishes, I was among family. And if you really look at the history of this planet, there’s a good chance you’d notice that same connection.

This Jersey Shore

In the final and perhaps odd chapter of the middle east- north Africa journey, I ventured home to the state of my birth, to see my family, friends, and continue editing audio from the trip. Naturally, being back in that part of the world only a few months since the massive storm turned many lives upside down, I went with my family to visit the Jersey shore and see what is happening in many of the communities there.

To begin with I have to mention what a strange juxtaposition it is, like so many tragedies in this world: while some live through terrible ordeals and struggle to satisfy basic needs, others in the exact state are living normal lives and of course- as it was the holiday season – exchanging gifts and enjoy themselves. There is nothing new or alien about this idea, it is the way of the world, so why not- even in New Jersey where many people still have no home and no idea how they will afford to rebuild their homes as a result of the storm. It is the type of situation where I can even be a tourist who drives in from a part of the state where things are fine and in 30 minutes I can be standing between piles of rubble and vanished coast line.

But there they were- one after the other- as we drove along Ocean Av, the typical street name in most NJ shore towns- massive construction vehicles moving and creating piles of sand. Pushing the soggy beige powder out towards the sea while also building tall hills that will serve as a line defense. There is little to no sign of the old lines of defense. All there is is half-shells of former houses, a few miraculously untouched properties, empty space, and piles of wood where long stretches of previous boardwalk once stood. The gigantic machines look like ants in comparison to the vastness and nearness of the ocean. Their work looks flimsy, like at any time it could be wiped away by one massive wave or another round of flooding. But still they work, as do many homeowners and carpenters, stabilizing houses that are leaning one way or another, houses that might be missing their ground floor, or the kinds that are missing sections of their roofs.

Many along the route look eager to rebuild. Like the construction vehicles pushing sand, they’re counting on being ready for the all-important summer months, when the weather is beautiful, life feels relaxing and the tourist dollars flow. Future hurricanes? Unlikely, their actions seem to say. Several residents assure me that such storms only come around every few decades so its certainly worth rebuilding and getting back to life as usual .

Along the route we come upon my most favorite Jersey Shore town, Asbury Park – a city long plagued by economic depression, corruption, and a past marked by social conflicts. Even when their was no storm the place that brought us Bruce Springsteen and the Jersey Shore sound looked like it was barely getting by. But now even the weathered yet proud old structures that survived that re-development wrecking ball, looked critically wounded. A series of fences and police guided detours lead the public away from the destroyed boardwalk, the centerpiece of the city that is supposed to be on its way back.

It may be a small story in the grand scheme of this world and all its acute problems. Or maybe because it happened in the US, in a state where some people live very comfortably, it does not seem like it could possibly be that bad. But even if people around the world are recognizing the scale of the tragedy that has struck this special place, what remains unclear to me is whether or not people in New Jersey see the big picture of what is to come. Driving through proud shore towns that have their traditions and ways of doing things, it was hard to tell if they will do anything different in an effort to deal with future challenges that may even be worse than this one.

Sounds of the Sultan Hassan Mosque

During our time in Cairo, in between the steady stream of interviews and journeys to different neighborhoods, there were also the moments when we managed to do a little tourism and visit magnificent sights of the ancient city. On one such afternoon, under the guidance of our excellent friend and Egyptologist Shereif Nasr, we visited the Sultan Hassan Mosque, a beautiful Mamluk era structure completed in 1359.

Personal Revolutions in North Africa

This week I find myself in the Northeast of the United States, home for the holidays and also to process all the audio, video, and photos from the Middle East – North Africa journey. Being back in the US means being subjected to the local and national media context, which makes American stories seem larger than life, and Egypt feel like another planet. At holiday gatherings and reunions with old friends I am often asked things like “So is it all falling apart in Egypt or what?” Sometimes its put in nicer terms, but the tone is most often one of skepticism and as if their minds have already been made up about what is happening in that part of the world.

Images from Mohamed Mahmoud St., Tahrir Sq.

In the American press I see the other standard reaction towards the events taking place in Egypt, including conclusions about what took place in the weeks that I was in Tahrir Square – the revolution has been hijacked, a new dictatorship has emerged, the opposition is falling apart. When I read and hear such analysis, by both intelligent and less well-informed individuals, I again feel like I left Egypt and landed on another planet. In this world everything has to fit into categories and boxes. There are either winners or losers. Things are either successes or failures. So whatever those countries are going through, they must fit into one of these easy to understand categories.

What I wish most is that I could, even beyond my work here on the website and on radio open source, show them examples of the changes that have taken root on the personal level in Egypt and Tunisia. (and beyond I suspect) It never makes it into headlines or fancy mainstream news analysis, that metro workers went on strike last month, an action that would be unthinkable under the dictatorship. Women, long plagued by street harassment and oppression at home, are now organizing themselves to adopt tactics to neutralize such harassment and get out of abusive situations. Lower class people, long barred from ever working in higher skill and prestige jobs, are starting to demand equal opportunity and an end to prejudice based on what your father’s profession is. The list is actually much longer than this, but in my many conversations over the course of three weeks in Cairo, it was impossible to avoid stories of individuals carrying out personal rebellions against an old and oppressive tradition.

Is the process complete and successful? Are the oppressed finally getting the justice they deserved? No. Sadly, these changes are slow to reach everyone and there is no guarantee that they will take hold for everyone everywhere. Is there resentment and push-back from those who don’t want to see these changes come to fruition? Yes. Many people fear what is to come and would prefer to keep things the way they were. But beyond all of this, no matter what happens in the future or what is happening now, something has changed in Egypt and that something is the individual mindset. And as so many people reminded us, over and over, once you reach this change and start thinking like a free person, there is no going back.