Text – Page 8 – Citizen Reporter

Unexpected Encounters in Egypt

We’re at the nearby art gallery speaking with a talented and kind-hearted painter who is struggling to fully explain his project in English. After a few minutes of explanation and some translation he turns to us and says “Why don’t you come to Nasser City tomorrow, my friend Khaled holds an open studio every Friday and you’ll meet great artists who are good at explaining things in several languages.”

Less than 24 hours and a memorable taxi ride later, we’re walking into a first floor apartment that looks less like a house and more like a secret hide out for talented and funny artists. The walls are covered in art, which includes plentiful collage material pasted on the doors and walls in seemingly every corner of the room. The ceiling is cleverly lined with old acrylic paint tubes that look more like festive lighting. A look into the bathroom reveals a giant white plaster hippopotamus covered in magazine clippings. At the little round table, 4 friendly people are seated with laptops opened, phones on display, and a few big professional cameras strewn about. They drift in and out of conversation and presenting things on screens to each other. Over at another work station, a dedicated music laptop plays the music of Lebanese legend Fairuz, while another few people sit in the next room chatting about a project.

We’ve wandered into an artists’ studio where every friday a group of friends gather in what they describe as a weekly ritual of conversation and camaraderie. And despite our presence disrupting the usual flow of conversation, the group is pleased to have us and we are each immediately greeted with explanations and examples of their work. The youngest among them is 22 years old and she shows me her interactive art installations that focus on surveillance culture. She clicks through the images and explains how it works and where it is on display now. “If I had known you were coming I would have brought my marionettes” she later tells me. Meanwhile one by one they explain their work and their feelings about the past two years. In the difficult events at Tahrir in 2011, they lost friends, including one of their regular colleagues of the Friday open studio, who was killed by a sniper. They speak about him and how they lived those days, all of them at the square of course, where they still return to as part of the Friday ritual. “We will have tea, finish our discussions, and head over to Tahrir later today,” we were told several times.

Both the work and the people were extremely inspiring, as this group not only specialized in innovative art, but they also obviously looked after one another. It was like visiting a family of different generations, dedicated to helping one another succeed in life and art. And lucky us, on this day they welcomed us with open arms and plentiful pastries, pleased to have another chance to get to know visitors and communicate their story to whomever would be interested in listening. (or reading)

The Front Office of Tahrir

It’s almost 1pm on a Friday and the normally jam packed streets are quiet and strangely empty. Many are taking part in Friday prayers, and on this the day after the big speech by President Morsi where he announced new sweeping powers for himself while decapitating the judiciary branch of government. On the heels of this bold and disturbing announcement, you can feel the calm before the storm, as by this afternoon hundreds of thousands will re-occupy Tahrir Square.

Last night and into the early morning hours, the cafe’s of Cairo were packed with people outraged over the announcement, and determined to take the square as a show of force by the people who during those legendary 18 days in 2011, did the impossible. This morning, just a few blocks down from Tahrir, I’m at café Riche, the more than 1 hundred year old establishment that is known as the home of the writers, thinkers, and perhaps the cultural elite of Cairo. I say perhaps because when you sit down at this historical landmark, you feel like everyone talks to everyone, and someone new strikes up a conversation every time. At the front end of the cafe, the owner sits in front of his flatscreen TV watching the news. Oddly, he often keeps the screen set to the live video feed from the square, which is physically only 2 blocks down the street. People periodically rise from their tables and stand transfixed on the screen. Customers walking in do the same before they take their seats. Everyone is looking at what is happening and wondering what may happen yet today.

In the back of the otherwise empty cafe, just as outside a constant stream of people walk by in the direction of the square like there is a magnet pulling them there, a group of older, seasoned veterans of the cultural scene have gathered for breakfast. Its their usual friday gathering and you can tell its THE place for debates and discussions about the week’s events and the big questions of life. They will eat, argue, laugh, and then on to the main event – off to the demonstration.

Engineer Abbas, our new friend who helped design the current incarnation of this cafe that dates back to 1909, is seated at our table telling us stories of protests and the old days under previous dictators in Egypt. I ask him, “does it feel like those magic days in 2011 today?” He smiles, “Those were the days my friend… those were the days.” He goes on to sing “Those were the days” which I think was a song from the 60’s that we all kind of know. After his song Abbas smiles again, “Egyptian people have no schedule… they are.. how do I say.. unpredictable. It may not be today, it might be tomorrow, you never know!”

In my time here in Egypt I find not everyone likes Cafe Riche. Its considered old, tired, elitist and perhaps even touristy. I me be just the latest outsider to be charmed, but the friends I have made, the stories I have internalized in this place, it is for me as unforgettable as the square itself. It is better than any University I have ever attended and more lively than most rallies I have ever been a part of. All day long and well into the night, the flat screen TV stays on and the front desk remains occupied, the writers and thinkers go back and forth, to protest, and back for tea. Rinse and Repeat. Day after day. Just like in that those wonderful 18 days, – I’m told.

Recognizing the Mother of Cities

“The mother of cities” they call it, I had never heard the term until I arrived in Cairo earlier this week. If I were to imagine what the mother of all cities would look like, I guess like Cairo, it would have to be massive. It would also, like Cairo, have to be a place that cannot be ignored, drivers honk all day and all night, and dusty weathered buildings loom large in every direction you look. And then I would top it off, as Cairo does, with a powerful river – in this case, the Nile definitely fits the bill.

No one who has been here for a week can really tell you about Cairo. I imagine you could be here a year and still not know every corner of a place that is so vast and overwhelming. They say New York City never sleeps, but Cairo turns the night into day. And when you can top it all off with a world reknowned cultural movement for creativity and change, it makes for an extra interesting time to be in the heart of the mother of cities.

But don’t let me romantize the worst quality air imaginable where everyone must automatically smoke the equivalent of a pack of cigarettes per day just by walking down the street. Where some areas don’t feel all that welcoming and even if you were welcome, the standstill traffic would never let you get there in a reasonable time. You sit in a cab for an hour but you only rack up a tiny bill. In fact, you could have probably walked faster but its Cairo and sometimes its more about being comfortable than being logical.

I’m yet to sit in a cafe without someone joining in my conversation and offering a testimony about what has been going on and what they have experienced. It seems no one is afraid to speak anymore, and its hard to imagine them keeping quiet.

That about sums up my first days in Cairo: loud city, talkative people, mind boggling scale.

Amin’s Beautiful Family

The idea was to start our Arab Artists adventure with something extra special, with someone that could get us moving on the right foot, and that person turned out to be celebrated author and journalist Amin Maalouf. So before flying down to Tunis, Chris and I met up in Paris for 2 days of preparation and conversation. 2 days during which, it turned out, we would get to spend some quality time with a very wise man and his inspiring family.

We were scheduled to meet for a morning session; a long interview covering the middle east in the present, recent past, and much more. We hoped to talk history, arts, politics, and enjoy the life stories Amin might bring forth. But instead of waiting for that morning appointment, the night before Chris tells me “we should just go over there, drop by, say hello, and see if we can’t get some ideas out for him to sleep on.” My immediate reaction, even though I should realize Chris has been doing this very many decades, was to remind him that people are busy on Saturday nights, and he won’t be home (or he doesn’t want to see us until our agreed appointment).

We arrive at the address and sure enough realize we didn’t bring that essential Parisian tool, the door code. We stand at the door, periodically crossing the street and looking up at the window as if someone will look down and yell — “Oh its you guys, come on up!” – Right around then a neighbor opens the door and invites us in, “who are you looking for?” — Mr Maalouf, I explain. The woman doesn’t hesitate as she points me to the appropriate hallway. 30 seconds later, we’re warmly greeted by the sweetest couple that must have been a little shocked at this inter-generational journalist duo that just wandered in off the street. In his relaxed around the house clothes, Amin sat with us in the living room and immediately began to talk about a projects he is working on, people we have in common, and the latest updates about the US election race.

Not 12 hours later we are back in that same living room. This time Mr. Maalouf is sitting in the living room dressed nicely as I’ve often seen on BBC programs where he is interviewed. He’s been thinking about some of the things we talked about, and just as I figure out the ins and outs of Chris’s recorder, off we go on a 2+ hour journey through time and space. I kept expecting him to run off needing water or to answer a phone, but instead he stays with us and considers every question carefully. It was both exciting and exhausting as I reviewed in my head, every idea he put forward.

After those hours of holding the microphone and resisting the urges to comment, ask a question, or speak up in any way, Chris grabs the mic and puts me in his seat “Your turn Mark… time for you to let loose.” To his credit and my surprise, even after such a long discussion, Amin looked at me with interest. As if to say, “yes, you’ve been sitting there nodding and almost talking for a while.. Id like to know what you have to say.”

The whole discussion was already a massive success in my mind. But just when i though it couldn’t get any better, Mrs. Maalouf comes to get us, to make a plate and join the family for lunch. Now we’re launched into conversations and creative back and forth idea sharing, as the rest of the family is just as kind and engaging as the man himself. It was as if I was speaking with old friends who have long been working on similar ideas. Combine that with the best Lebanese food imaginable, and you get an afternoon that I hoped would never end.

Here Til Its Gone

Lost Highway — Photo by NCDOT Communications

I’m sure many of you, like myself, have spent time over the past years watching either a TV series or a film involving an end of the world type scenario where our systems fail and people have to cope with the new reality. There is this mix of fascination with the possibility and concern with reality, that seems to be one reason why we watch those psy-fi dramas.

Here on the podcast, we have had guests who explain how in real life, system failure happens and can happen at an even greater level than we have seen so far. But when a major disaster hits and the possibility becomes a reality, even on a small-temporary level, the connection is seldom made that in fact, it would not take much to shut down the infrastructure that we are so accustomed to, and very little is being done to improve those structures.

Rare is the city or rural area where new drainage or power capacity is installed. De-centralized power generation continues to be a small movement with numerous obstacles to keep it from expanding. Services get bought, sold, and re-sold, prices go up, but few improvements get made. All sides claim a lack of funds and promise improvements for another day.

Instead of these more complicated and expensive discussions, most content spit out on the internet is about when its getting turned back on. Or, what political party will allegedly keep your house from being washed to sea. Massive deficiencies in the working of our beloved infrastructure are ignored in favor of the quick fixes and consumer level complaints.

Meanwhile we watch the zombie apocalypse, the end of electricity, and entire nations becoming submerged under water on our screens. Somehow, if its on a screen and the characters are good looking, its just a fun escape to help us ignore the fragile, rotting system beneath our feet.

Fresh Eyes, Ancient Place

We are a little over two weeks from the beginning of the North Africa/ Middle East journey lovingly titled “Arab Artists in a Revolution.” As with any great journey, the preparation also raises questions about how to approach our conversations and media creations in the best way possible. The term “best way” is particularly tricky in an era where it’s difficult to capture and retain the attention of any audience, though Im pleased to be starting off with you my listeners and readers, not to mention the Radio Open Source audience who have clearly shown their desire to see this project become a reality.

But here’s another aspect that makes missions like this one a special challenge. My history as an independent, make-it-up-as-I-go-along blogger turned journalist turned media producer or whatever I’m defined as these days. I’ve been working on topics that interest me (and hopefully sometimes you) for more than 10 years now, and throughout my tenure I’ve only occasionally stopped to look around and ask – what do the people want? That was, for me, the major point of being a personal media- citizen journalist type, I don’t just try to entertain or capture your attention, I first follow my heart and learn about topics, people, and places that capture my attention. With any luck my interests intersect with yours, that’s when it feels extra special.

This particular journey begins with a unique partnership, two guys from different generations with different experience, setting off for a land they have -until now- only read and talked about. A region the entire everyone seems to have an opinion about after it re-captured the world’s attention last year. So the question I have for myself is, how do I make sure this one is not only a pleasure for me, but exciting for you as well? To what extent should I be listening to the opinion and experience of others, as opposed to doing what Ive always done, following my nose and relying on my global network to guide me to the fantastic stories of real life? How do you keep your mind and your heart open when you’ve done something one way for so long?

One thing I realize beyond any of these questions, is that it is good to try something new and challenge my own traditions. Thankfully I set off next month with someone who’s work and friendship have taught me a lot about what is possible and what I’m capable of. And of course, I set off with all of you along for the ride, via this daily noise machine known as the internet. So all in all, the fundamentals are in place. Everything else, as always in life, we will figure out and make it great.