im drinking water from the tap, just for the hell of it.

im back in the USSA

ive tried posting several big posts, blogger crashed.

more soon.
stay tuned.

i promise

some qoutes, that help me understand the little that i do.


"Thee do we worship. And thine aid we seek. Show us the Straight Path."
-Qur'an, opening prayer

"Someone exclaimed in a voice hoarse with pain, 'God Exists!' . . . The mention of God's name was like a magnet attracting and assembling around it their roving thoughts which had been scattered by despair."
-Naguib Mahfouz, Palace Walk

"How great is the luck of one whose uncle is chairman."
-modern Egyptian proverb on the subject of corruption.

"As to the righteous . . . they perform their vows, and they fear a day whose evil flies far and wide. And they feed, for the love of God, the indigent, the ophan, and the captive saying - "We feed you for the sake of God alone - no reward do we desire from you, nor thanks."
-Qur'an

"Muslims are weak and disunited because they do not love God enough. We left God, so he left us. Once we truly love God, all of our problems will be solved. Our problem is to be deep in love with God. If we fit soul with body right, we can control all of the world by God. We say victory is through God."
"When the early Muslims said 'There is no God but God' God lifted up the Muslims and the unbeleivers went down. So Islamic people got all of Europe...This is real history."
-Carlye Murphy (Wash Post) interview with Gasser Shadi, Cairo resident

"We see no reason for [Europe's] position of wealth and power except their progress in education and the sciences. Our first duty then is to endeavor with all our might and main to spread these sciences in our country."
-Muhammed Abduh, Islamic Scholar, 1876

"Setting up the Kingdom of God on earth and eliminating the kingdom of man, means taking power from the hands of human usurpers and restoring it to God alone."
-Sayyid Qutb, father of modern armed Islamist political action

"I am Khalid Al Islambouli, I have killed Pharaoh and I do not fear death!"
-screamed by Sadat's assassin, an Islamist, immediately after killing Sadat

" ."
Entire contents of the European book entitled: "Achievements of the Arabs in the last 1000 years."

ian the englishman is english, and speaks english.
better than i do. shit, better than WE ('murkins) do - a fact that i become aware of everytime i chat with anyone from that soggy little island system.

but,
i can't hear ian's english. ians english is being obscured by the english of another man, and the arabic of one more.

"WE HAVES SHOOSES! MANJOE, OR-ANJ! HERE NO BEERS! RAMADAN!!"

the irony of this last statement was not yet fully clear to me. the man screamed it to me, because the 3rd man, the arabic speaker, was singing his arabic into a microphone, which was attached to a primative looking keyboard, which fed a massive 5th rate stereo system.


--


now ive seen different permutations of this stereo setup before, from cuba to vietnam. while some parts may change, the constant element is an old 3 foot single black speaker with a large paper cone woofer(ripped, moldy). deficiencies in the actual quality of the sound reproduced are made up for by a relative increase in the quantity of the sound. (in me this creates deep, animal terror)

these black matte speaker boxes are shocktroops of globalization. they exist to amplify unbelievably abrasive/repetative local pop music and create a kind of "party!" environment. they achieve this magically, wherever they are placed - be it on top of an oil drum, over by the donkey, in the street, on whoevers car that is, etc.

stepping within the range of one of these fun-boxes puts you into party-fun-space - where anything can happen - and where all paths toward SEX begin. in thailand, i found myself in bars among sullen looking young thai men with trendy haircuts and silk shirts. they were sitting silently, enduring 150,000,000,000 decibals of pop coming from 3 speakers that took up about one fifth of the 10 seater bar. unable to even communicate with the bartender, they just sat there in the searing treble, looking satisfied to be in party-fun-space, yet unable to talk about it.
i drank my beer outside.


--


here tho, in what we -thought- was a back-alley bellydancing club of questionable reputation, a giant fat man with salt and pepper hair and moustache and a huge fuzzy sweater was singing into the system. tonight, there was no bellydancing.

but

there were women. with bellies.

i mean of course! this was party-fun-space!

"IAN!"
"WHAT?!"
"IAN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PLACE?"
"WHAT?"
"I DONT THINK THERES BELLYDANCING!"
"WHAT?? I CANT FUCKIN HEAR A WORD YOU ARE SAYING!"
"WHAT?"
"WHAT?"

a not unattractive woman wearing a green and yellow gown of unclear purpose brought us mango juices. she smiled at ian in the way that suggests other services.

"OH SHIT."
"WHAT?"
"WHAT?"
"WHAT?"

the place was empty, aside from us and the singer - who was now torturing us directly - and several robed women, who were milling about, occassionally looking towards us. off to the right was a door to a kitchen where dirty dishes piled high. to the left was a yellowing and dim staircase, ascending towards one of party-fun-space's possible outcomes. and behind us was the door.

"HELLO MEESTAR.."
"OHSHIT!"

the robed woman were clustered around behind ian who was inspecting some kind of sacraligously used Christmas ornamentations which wrapped themselves around the chipping walls of the small club. in one of the strangest and inexlicably disturbing acts of lewdness i have ever seen, fully clothed women of differing girth and attractivity reached out and apprehenisvely touched the locks on the back of ian's head. the touching was slow, tremulous, E.T. style

"MEESTAR.."

in a muslim country during ramadan, this was boot-nasty, and in the strangest way. my total sobriety, the fact that the woman was wearing several layers of clothing, and the disparity of the message and the intended message short-circuited something in me. i had been much less disturbed by women shooting razorblades from their vaginas in bangkok. (actually, that wasn't disturbing at all - that was totally awesome)

"MEESTAAR.."

for reasons i am still coping with, i became jealous that my own hairs didn't get. .. handled.

"IT'S RAMADAN IS IT?"
"WHAT? LETS FINISH OUR FUCKING JUICE!"
"WHAT? LETS FINISH OUR JUICE AND LEAVE!"
"WHAT?"
"WHAT?"
"WHAT?"


what?

'in homosexual news, a european guy told me today that he
fucked my belhop.

is that some kind of insult?

i mean "i fucked your belhop" - holy shit i have no idea
how to respond to that.

thats a conversational checkmate if i ever heard one.

jesus. king me.
wait.

the beds in 3 dollar a night pensions (hotels) are not comfortable.

im wearing the one sweater i own, the one pair of clean pants, socks - two pairs, the second pair hastily pulled up over the first one to fight off the phantom cold feet at what felt like 102 degrees, but i wouldnt have known because i could not find the thermometer which was in my medicine bag, which, as it turns out, was right fucking in front of me -

fever
FEVER

god im happy i im not in a taxi somewhere on the way to baghdad with that annoying little academic turd for a shits and giggles young and idealistic mini tour of a country at war with a fever like -

and then im out again, just coughing a lot just coughing a lot hoping i can get to sleep.

i sleep. with enough sleeping pills to kill mr.T. i sleep for 3 days.

nightmares.
robotically enhanced highschool enemies useing their unlimited array of augmentations to satisfy every woman ive ever desired, on my television.

mysterious canes and crutches which keep appearing, piled on top of me as i wake up, in my dream.

that thin lipped girl i kissed in chiang mai, the one from california with the troubled past, she keeps running out the door of the apartment i got just so i could have another girl over all "im sorry, im sorry, i cant forget"



i wake up every 4-5 hours, look at the clock, feel my forehead, still burning, and pour another glass of apple juice. i eat a cookie. i don't notice until its too late that the box proudly proclaims "made with 100% real ghee!" in arabic. ghee is clarified, meaning "extra fatty" butter. the cookies are about 40% saturated fat. this doesnt speed my recovery.

my friends at my flophouse are trying to take care of me. they run and get medicine, knock on my door. offer hilarious egyptian health advice:
farid: "ya james, you cannot have milk with your tea, is bad for cold, it make you even more sick."
ahmed: "no wanking. save your milk."
farid: "ya james, i can make a tea with a Special milk for you."


a day before this i saw that Mubarak collapsed on TV because of this flu, which is spreading all over the country. (no surprise when you consider that washing dishes with anything other than just plain water is unheard of here, and hundreds of people will drink from the same public glasses) the report then said he was treated with antibiotics, which makes no sense as influenza is a virus.

egyptians.

its a no.

the two guys just left, and i feel OK- altough i was one of the hardest decisions in recent memory.

you dont get the chance to ride into baghdad often, and it would have been a great ending to this trip

granted, i am coming back to the region in a matter of months, and if there is one thing that you can count on, it is war always being on somewhere in the ME. ill get the chance again sometime soon - but right now would have been interesting - switching to Plan B in the iraq would have been sooo fuckin interesting to cover.

but anyways - my reasoning

1. 48 hours notice is not enough notice for my first time in a war zone. you dont just pack a backpack and drive into baghdad handing out granola bars. without really considering it at least. i would have to write a goodbye letter, read up, double check connections and contacts, double check the plans (put together by a 21 year old, albeit a really sharp one), withdraw and convert money, handle visa work, pray everything goes right the first time etc.

1.2 - The insurgents are now attacking journalists.

2. also, the other 2 guys are 21 and 22. they have never been to a war zone. while one of them is a good guy, one of them is a nut. sociopathically annoying -perhaps one of the most annoying people who i have ever met. and hes a nut who looks so stereotypically jewish that i would be concerned in occupied iraq.

2.2 An american, an american turk and an american jew drive into baghdad...

3. I would be spending money that is not mine - potentially lots of it. Also - no insurance in war zones.

4. Gut says no. Odd day dream. There are times in my life when I like to do wreckless things but - this is not one of them.

5. I would make it back just before my flight out of Cairo. Nothing ever goes according to plan - I cant imagine it would inside a war zone. were i to miss my flight, i would have been supremely fucked.


all this said
- cairo feels so boring now.
and i keep thinking of that ranger motto
"those who dare, win"
but then i think
rangers carry assualt rifles
fast-rope out of helicopters

journalists just try not to get killed.



to those of you that i wrote - thanks for your feedback

luck and all
cem

a very important decision

Like I said, things is going to blow up during the last 10 days of Ramadan.

These are the 10 days in which Muslims strive to be better muslims. The religious fundamentalists think this meats blowing people into seared unrecognizable lumps.

More is coming I suspect. One big one right after, when we let our guard down.

If this continues, as it i think it will, Bush will win the next election, riding on fear.

I think something is going to happen here in Cairo but -
I dont know.

Is anyone cheering here?
I dont know. I can guess.
Probably a good 40%.
Another 40 think its bad but.. you know...

the next 15%, the 15% percent that all the AUC people and the westerners who come to Egypt and meet, the people who give the world the impression that egyptians are cosmopolitan, the 15% percent connected to power and the corrupt government that are stifling democratic reforms here, the upper crust - they think its a bad thing, but its America's fault.

the last 5 just think its horrible.

Arabs dont like Turks tho.

And to them, a burnt synagogue is nothing compared to the plight of the palestinians.
To them.

Them.
Them.



2 days ago Mustafa, a friend walked up to me -

"Ya James -"
"Ya Mustafa."
"look - "

he held up a 2001 one french magazine with the twin towers collapsing on the cover.
he waited for my reaction.

"thats great Mustafa."

thats great.

"ya james"
".. ."
"ya james" (everyone at the hotel calls me james, for reasons still unclear)
".. unnhh. ."
"ya james."
"wh.. what? wwhy?"
"ya james!"
".. its eleven o clock in the morning Sameh! please .. go away!"
"ya james someone here. za ethiopian girlie."
"the wh.. oh. fuck. hold on."


--


k. now he's pissed.

a:"democracy!!? this is bullshit. look at your country?! democracy? it doesn't exist anywhere. look at britain. in britain, one million people march on the street to oppose the war in ira-q (he says this with an emphatic, popping arabic 'q', leaning into his words, seething) and this does nothing! democracy is a myth. your country does have more freedom, for the time being at least, and this is so good, but in terms of political power: your country is like my country - you have no power. YOUR COUNTRY IS LIKE MY COUNTRY. here, we have a president who will install his son - and there is nothing we can do about it. same in your country - i mean look at this man - he is a failed businessman and he deserts your army and the only thing he has good for him is that his father was once president! i have met americans with those. . old. . thick.. hairs.."

he seperates his thumb and forefinger one inch as if to 'crush my head', and then points to his hair

c:" . .dreadlocks?"

a:"yes, those, who are smarter than he is. your president's father installed him, just like mubarak will install his son gamel. it is the same. our countries are the same - its just that your country is better at keeping your people under control without violence. i mean, look at how easily your country believed your president about iraq - and now how many iraqi women and children are dead - how many have been broken by your incredible weapons? far more than september 11th. do you know this?"

c:"yes, AP put out an estimate that exceeded 4000 dead civilians after half the total count. we know this. well, i know this, i dont know how many times that number makes it to network TV, i dont know how many other americans know this. but, to be fair - saddam killed many, many more than the US troops did."

a:"well we see the dead people (its true. the news here is not afraid to show you what cluster bombs will do to kids. just like in the UK's newspapers, sometimes there is a lot of red ink). and how many of your own 20 year old men are going to die now? and why should they have to die? and do you think this war will end? do you know how crazy the people who are now heading to iraq to fight the next big jihad are, what they will do to your soldiers? these people are animals! these people are animals - thousands of egyptians went to afghanistan to fight the jihad and the war made them crazy - war does that you know, it creates terrorists - war is horrible. war makes terrorists, and government torture chambers here in egypt too. when the government, the mukhabarat (secret police) strap a peaceful, religious man to a wet mattress for one hour and then put the electric shocks on him, he becomes a terrorist.

i mean look at iraq, you are just asking for jihadi training camps. its like afghanistan and the soviets, again"

c: "its like afghanistan, and the soviets.. except .. its not. the first war in afghanistan, in 2001, was like the soviet war in afghanistan, and we won, easily. things are changing no-

a:"yes, things are changing in afghanistan. opium production is back up, after having been stopped completely by the taliban. and the taliban is rising again because your brilliant president just bombed it and went to iraq. he abandoned them! what do you think is going to happen?! the world is not a god damned playstation, you americans! you cannot just shoot the lasers at bad people, and they go away, game is over!"

c:"motherf- look - i seem to recall women being shot in soccer stadiums for adultry. that isnt happening anymore. there is a more stable -"

a:"stable? the country is about to slip into civil war again!? this is how the taliban took power in the 1st place. and how many women got shot in stadiums versus how many were killed in the war and how many are going to die in the violence there"

c: "mufucker, thats not the question, unfortunately. if it were that easy, and governments were that just , that would be the question - but the world is a lot uglier than that. governments are just only to their constituency, and then only sometimes. in this case, the US government went to war in the name of protecting its own people, and unfairly destroyed other people in the process, thousands of innocents.

now, however misguided this idea is, the US government believes that it may have saved thousands of American lives from terrorist attacks by these two wars.

is called a fact of life - this is what governments do. now i believe that our government actually made the world much more dangerous for americans and multiplied anti-american 'terrorists' by the thousands but -"

a:"dead chldren yanni - they dont understand these things, do they? and why should they?."


--


she played with the tassles in her hejab. it was black, fine cotton, with an intricate pattern. it went well her and her deep brown complexion.

eg: "we need to talk now."
c: "well, you woke me up after 4 hours of sleep - you know what time i left - demanded my attention and now we are sitting in a coffee shop alone. talk."
eg: "ok, dont freak out. i need a really big favor."
c: "telling me not to freak out ain't helping me not freak out so much. what?"
eg: "..nothing.."
c: "jes-"
eg: "lets get married."
c: "OH FUCK"
eg: "see, see, i told you you would freak out and now you are freaking out, i tol-"
c: "no."
eg: "just listen, just listen."
c: "no."
eg: "just listen, just listen, i need to leave this country. i hate this place, i have a plan. we don't need to get married for real, just signed paper-"
c: "ok, you want me, a dual US/Turkish citizen to marry you, an Ethiopian resident in Egypt with 4 years in Saudi Arabia on your passport. as much as i dont want to marry you, it is impossible. impossible for you to get into the US right now anyways."
eg: "look, ok, its not that big a deal. i hate my parents, i hate this place! i want to come to America. i'll join the military, they will pay for my education and ill be alright."
c: "hon, i know you hate your parents, but joining the US military right now would probably be a little worse. and this is a little more than a favor. you cant just get married in - its not that easy, they would be watching me for years, if you even got in. we'd have to live together for 2 years."
eg: "its not that hard, we could just share an apartment. we-"
c: "i've known you for 2 weeks. pointless. an-"
eg: "look, its not impossible."
c: "no."
eg: "just listen, just listen, i ..i. . fucking hate it here. i want to live in america - i mean, everyone does"


--


"By the end of the 1990s [after the imprisonment of nearly all major opposition leaders, the crushing of most opposition newspapers and parties by the Egyptian Government, which is the second largest recipient of USAID money in the world, after Isreal] it became apparent that Egypt's political system lacked the flexibility and imagination to compete on democratic turf with its main political opposition, the moderate Islamists. Instead, it fell back on coercion and authoritarianism [including increased use of torture and long-term incarceration of the unconvicted]. In doing so, it starkly revealed that Egypt's fundamental problem is not terrorism but a lack of democracy and respect for lawful institutions. Like the generals who canceled Algeria's 1992 election to stop an Islamist movement from winning the elections, the Egyptian government continues to tell all opposition: even if you could win an election, we will never allow you to be on the ballot.

This stance begs the question to most Egyptians: If this is how secular, Western modeled governments dispense justice and hold elections - why not give the Islamists and their ideas a whirl? Is it any wonder why many Muslims view secularism and Western - style constitutions with reservations?"


--


"haha, fucking americans."
shareef didnt see me sitting between the german guy and the french girls.
"haha, another one blown up."
the cover of the state sponsored arabic daily had an exploding US helicopter on the front.
the french girls shake their heads, brown hair swinging.


--


ashraff: "my favorite political thinkers would be castro, and bin laden. they support the poor people."
cem: "they.. what?"
he is wearing a nike t-shirt.
fake, of course.


--


two hours later im playing chess with the big german.

the german is clever, he has taken my knights, both of them, trading them for his bishops, reflecting the fact that he recognizes their tactical advantage in the defense he has set up. its a minor advantage. but he takes it, because he is a german. and germans are machines.

he reports to me that the direct german translation for the "knight" piece is "springer".
"ya, ees a shpring-ger."
he makes a springing motion with his fingers.
"shpring-ger!"

the bishop, the bishop he calls a "sprinter"

shareef walks in.


s: "americans always lose!"

i look up.

s:"you cant beat a german, germans and japanese are machines! and you are a stupid american!
can you even find america on this map?? i heard most americans cant find it on a map!"

i know hes kidding and i know hes also not kidding.

s:"U-S-A!!U-S-A!!U-S-A!!"

i recall post 9-11 crowds waving flags, USA/flag doggie sweaters. i become angry. only i can make fun of my own people.

c: "maybe when you egyptians learn its not always about winning you'll be able to stop pretending you are badass rich motherfuckers and you can buy some real designer clothing instead of that fake Armani shit they sell on the street. until then,keep on accepting all the USAID money, which comes from me and my friends' taxes. if you didnt have our money, you people would be eating eachothers' fucking babies."

shareef looks at me, then at the german.

s: "stupid americans."


--


2001, Washington DC. Office of Middle East Insight magazine. Interview for Assistant Editor.

BJF: "WASHINGTON DC... yes, DC - an interesting place to work. Do not believe anyone - noone can be trusted -"
he blinks several times, quickly
BJF: " -here in WASHINGTON: KNOWLEDGE.."
he nods
BJF: "Knowledge, information is the COIN of the REALM- do not reveal anything - to anyone- about anything"

his name is Jon Kessle r. He is a leading operative (Political Leadership Director) for the American Isreali People's American Congress - the Isreali lobby, one of the most powerful in DC (many would say the most powerful - their headquarters is as big as many embassies). He rose to noteriety after publishing a guidebook in the early 1980s for college students. It was a how-to book. In it were questions to ask and proper responses when Palestinian speakers came to campus to speak. The guidebook was deeply controversial because it allegedly amounted to harassment the speaker and endorsed disruption of the event. Whatever the case, Jon was 6 and a half feet of Jewish stereotype - incredibly intelligent, funny, rude, anal retentive, and conspiritorial. I instantly loved him and hated him.

MEI was difficult to explain. He was working side-by-side with a Syrian. Like most Syrians and Isrealis, they hated eachother. Rumors as to the real purpose of the magazine abounded.

BJF: "I know you want to work here. And I know you think you understand this region. I know that you think you have some idea of what is going on here. But I know something you don't know. I have been studying this region for over 20 years - I have met with heads of state, I have met with terrorists. I charge $700.00 an hour for consultation. The most important thing I know about this region is - the more I know, the more I don't know. Cem, you don't know a damn thing. Trust me. None of us understand this."

Big Jewish Frankenstein had spoken.


--


sweet tea with mint. chewing on lamb with okra stew. lambs prepared for the Eid slaughter stumble by outside, painted asses.

im in a restuarant near the arabic school. music videos on. Nelly is on. then the "RIGHT THURRR" song comes on. i bob my head, puff sheesha. a cute young couple sits by wtching. its 2 american videos for every arab one.

a waiter comes in - says something excitedly and switches to the news.

"HAHA!" he claps.

another helicopter had been taken out near baghdad.



Cem, you don't know a damn thing. Trust me. None of us understand this.

it was like it was supposed to feel. a feeling of calm came over me - it was like it was supposed to feel, like i was in 3rd grade again. everything was easy, i knew what i had to do, i knew what i had to do, it was so easy - listen to the teacher, stand in line, do what im told, and eventually and ill eventually get some chocolate milk, and everything'll be OK, everything'll be OK.

he tapped his cane on the ground, twice, as if to prompt me. he said, slowly:

"are you ready?"

he nodded, heavy eyelids, he stroked his beard. the man exuded a kind of peace. a calmness that comes from a sureness about how the word works, an answer for everything. you could feel his peace with the world. you could see it in his eyes, his smile. i had seen it before - in the eyes of christian fundamentalists in Southern VA, in the nonsense of Hari Krishna's in Texas, in the eyes of Buddhists monks i had befriended in Myanmar. they were always so tranquil, so at peace, so assured. the entire world had been explained to them. death was not a problem, and they knew who put the moon in the sky. (in the case of the Krishnas, it was a small blue man)

"are you ready?"


--


Zamalak. high end French restuarant, dimly lit, bottles of red wine and fashionably small dishes available; a background of that garish, high-treble international house music that international rich-kids love so much. Ashraff, black clad, speaks Spanish and English - works in a construction company.
Ashraff:"I don't understand why you Americans, if you love technology, why you dont just accept that Islam is the latest technology from God. I mean - it is the newest religion. There was first the Jews, then the Christians, then God sent his last message through the angel Gabriel to Mohammed. God made Mohammed the final prophet, the seal of the three great religions, there can be no more after. Can't you see that Islam is the newest, the most perfected of the religions? Why don't you accept this technology?"
Cem:"What? Technology? And - are you saying that God made a mistake when he made the first two?"


--


"are you ready?"
"now? here?"
"yes, now. i could see the light of god in your eyes, god is with you this is why i stopped you in the street - i never stop people in the street. this is why we talked - god planned this meeting. yes it sounds unusual, and you are a gentleman to have listened. and now you must make your descision."
"now? i-"
"no? i will tell you more."
"ok, bu-
"the human body is sacred. it is designed in such a way that it needs a proper system. just like a car needs a proper system to run. the japanese understand this, but only about cars. islam is that system, it is the straight path given to mohammed by god. it is a system that effectively governs the body, it understand the differences between men and women and sets out a set of rules which allows us to achieve happiness. the Prophet was the happiest person in the world - he had control of himself and his community was strong. this is why his armies of only 3000 were able to defet 10, 20, 30 thousand - they had the power of god behind them. like a car needs a good system, man needs islam. man, society, it runs better with islam."
"four wives!"
"yes, the Koran allows 4 wives. but that is not all"


--


sitting in a teashop, pulling on a water pipe, scribbling into a book. waiting for my friend farid. a gaggle of tourists walked by. eye caught by a blonde woman, her body from the side. attractive, if thin and a little too made up. my eyes scanned her - nordic with long thin legs, nicely tanned, tight pants, tight shirt, not much chest but well shaped, nice skin. given the circumstances, no chance of sex. end of report.

the appraisal began, ended, and was filed in my mind within 1/4 of a second. this is routine that happens every hour of every day.

she stepped closer. here oddly lanky nordic father detected me, and unconciously put his hand on her shoulder. my blurry eyes came into focus on her face for the first time.

"bint"
i said, recoiling.
arabic for "girl".
i realized i was looking at a 13 year old.


--


islamic cairo.
i like to walk around late at night alone.
it started in chiang mai.

tonight, im walking towards a distant mineret that keeps disappearing and reappearing in the night horizon, hiding behind the roofs of the old shops and apartments. it is nearly 4AM. many people are awake since its ramadan, especially hungry kids, waiting for suhoor, the predawn breakfast.

a little girl walked by with a bag of fresh bread balanced on her head. she was carrying a long stick too, dragging it behind her. she sang a song i had heard before. i turned to look at her smiling. she had a light complexion. she had a covered head, a softly colored headscarf, a slightly grubby pair of baggy pants.

she was just a girl.

she reminded me of pictures of my older sister, when she was younger, in turkey.
i smiled at her.
she smiled and sang louder and rapped the stick against the ground.
a door opened, and warm yellow light poured out onto the street.
i could hear her her mother joking with her.

"you brought us a stick! darling, where is the bread?"

the door shut.

as my eyes adjusted to the dark , it struck me that in america, in thailand, there arent many "just girls" left. and few "just boys" either. you are sexualized early. girls with the bodies of girls strive to become women. i recall toddler beauty pageants with the little girls in swimsuits.




--


"are you ready?"
"no. but thank you friend"
"but, i want to save you from the fires of hell. please think about this."
"thank you friend. i cannot be helped."


--


so much for being children

was a heaving ramadan crowd, midnite on a friday in front of Al Ahzar Mosque.

giant Mamluk style minerets and thinner Ottoman style needles cut up on the horizon - a donkey stopped traffic, the lights i call christmas lights they call ramadan lights blinked warmly - it was all very postcard.

"shes looking at you"
"who"
"ahhhh HELWA - zat one!"
"ah"

a girl complex pattern on her hejab, a beige outfit, and huge almond shaped arab/persian eyes smiled at me, whipped a turn and cut through the crowd of ramadan night revelers.

a man stood from a chair in some kind of spontaneous comedy routine, i followed her through the crowd.

she cut left through the medeviel back streets, through the now closed spice market that still stung my eyes, there was a dead end alley with a fire burning in the end, we past ancient gates and catfights, the constant boom-tikka-tikka-boom of egyptian drums and the singing of smiling ancient men made me dizzy for unclear reasons, and she kept on looking back, smiling, then whipping around and striding gracefully like a deer in the forest. she cut towards a large crowd quickly, they were gathered around a drummer joining in on the chorus "ya.. habibiii" and i kept up the pace and

she waved me along

suddenly i realized ahmed was next to me, and had been trying to follow me.

"where you going?"
"the girl"

the girl was feigning interest at some jewlry at a nearby silvershop window.
i approached, she whipped around dramatically, like an arab woman should, smiling. a curl of blue black hair curled out of her hejab - something like a tit falling out of a tight dress in the states.

she smiled and tucked it in.

"hello"
she said

on cairo streets, dust collects in huge piles. fine brown/gray filth.
you can stand on these little piles, making footprints, smoking cigarettes.
ive spent my time doing this.
watching the people go by.

the exception is downtown, and the richer areas.
these areas are kept clean.
ive spent my time here too, watching the people go by. the tourists and the hustlers, the beggars with various swellings. the ultra rich, the covered girls who smile at you, the men in dirty galabeyyas .

you can do this, you can smoke, standing on dust.

i smoke while im waiting for the microbuses. they seem to pick people up at dustpiles only. tiny 1.4 liter engines pull japanese aluminium boxes designed to carry groceries and little japanese children through tight japanese streets -- yet here they carry up to 12 people assed up on one another. the assing up isnt bad, and they play egyptian pop music at volume 10 for your enjoyment. its hard to say no - music and a ride is a great deal for 50 piasters (8 cents). thrill too, mind you

the buses scream through the city, constantly thousands in dented white at every possible direction - etch-a-sketch trajectories - uneven speeds - in the background everywhere - loading and unloading women in robes, thick middle aged workers, small families, occasionally some with chickens and rabbits. to stop one, you wave and scream your destination at it as it is going by. it will then either continue onwards, or stop suddenly, veering off to the side. a man will scream something at you about hurrying the fuck up, and then you scream your destination back at him. get in.

the felt of the seats is long gone, but that is far less worrisome than the long gone breakpads, the seething twitching dust covered driver (these men work incredibly hard and for long hours just to turn a small profit) repeating a sunna from the Koran ad infinitum and watching the ground go by through the floor.

the microbuses are the chief reason cairo has the highest road-death average in the entire world - 52 times that of the US. when one of these goes down, the result, in the words of Robert Young Pelton is "a lot like putting a couple of mice in a coffee can full up nails and broken glass, then shaking it really hard."

another factor might be the fact that..

.. .

noone drives with headlights on here.
at night.
yeah.. . thats what i said - noone uses the headlights on their cars.
yeah.. . everyone is driving around all night with no headlights.
in the. ..dark.

the common perception [sic] here is that:

1. headlights use up the battery. (again - why doesnt Mubarak have some kind of national headight awareness day?)
2. its really rude to shine that light in someone elses eyes.

funny, yeah -
and confusing -
people driving around in the dark,
colliding with one another
operating on dubious information
its a good parable
of some type
i think


--


"y'allah, y'allah!"(lets go, lets go)
the man was holding his head, screaming at the driver. blood trickled through his fingers, which were shaking.
"yanni - y'allah!"
they left in another microbus.

the bus sat on the side of the road, in the dust, scraped all along its left side. people were standing around, some screaming at eachother, some silent, some dazed, one on the ground moaning, some whispering. someone had left their bag of groceries in the bus.

i looked down at the dust, at the tiny trail of blood left by the man in the front seat whose head cracked the window. he was the only one bleeding - because of the glass which probably a cheap replacement).

apparently it wasnt that bad.

the wind kicked up for a second, and the little red clots dissappeared as the gray silt shifted.
the street was drinking.

i wonder if people report seeing ghost microbuses, filled with dead people, rusty and hot, trailing smoke. maybe only the beggars see them.

i read that in saudi arabia there were recently rumors among the young.. of women with goat legs dancing in the alleys of Riyadh, singing and dancing and committing other such sins, trying to succor in the weak of faith, presumably into the hands of the devil.

i shut my eyes and try to imagine the sound of a collision
the wind kicked up again.

FLIP

it is over.

i have taken a full month to bash egypt, and the stupid, mindless, hairy, horny, drooling, dangerous, primative, "crudely constructed [human] bombs" that inhabit this overflowing ditch latrine of woe and wretchedness. by now, if you have been following this, you have called your senator and asked for prices on carpet bombing raids and anti arab spray.

now -

everything i have written is entirely true but -
please -
don't believe everything your hear these days.

there are certain people out there who want you to have certain opinion about ..
certain people.

and they dont have to lie to you.

they just have to leave out certain parts of the story

shopping in principal; an amended definition

in the downstairs foodcourt area of a downtown Cairo mall with Samir and Gamel, doing what they seem to like to do most - staring silently at passing women. Gamel is wearing what is apparently his only outfit.

Samir occassionally lets out a "Helwa" (sweet) or a "Gamoosa" (cow) at the passers by - but aside from that, none of us talk. bored, im getting ready to leave.

the table is at the bottom of an escalator going up and another coming down. its a kind of parade of covered women in bright, cheap, trendy clothing, and guys with sunglasses and lots of hairgel. everyone flaunts - its a fashion show - a wierd, sexually repressed/machismo/latently homosexual one to my foreign eyes. most of the guys are wearing the hilarious rip-off mechandise - the ADADIS or NIKIE type stuff ubiquitous all over the poor world. i note that i keep seeing the same people, and then realize that almost everyone seems to be doing laps of the mall - and noone seems to be carrying any bags.

Gamel and Samir are from the distant suburb of Helwan, way out past the pyramids. this is what they like to do with their time - come downtown and.. stare. when i ask them what draws them all the way from Helwan (40 minutes away)

Samir: "so exciting here, fun, so many people, all the musics, the good beautiful stuffs - this the life."

of course, Samir and Gamel cannot afford "the life". they can barely afford the horrible french fry sandwichs (?!) they are eating (french fries are a halmark of urbane living in the poor world. eating them includes you into the world of malls, globo-culture.. . which is an important thing to people who complain about their donkey shitting outside their window) they definitely cannot afford the flashy merchandise or the cell-phones.

the blaring, horrible egyptian pop music and the smell of fried food test my patience. as i am about to stand up and leave, i notice a woman walking by with bags - a thick, heavily made-up woman with expensive and ridiculous looking loose vinyl pants, a baby blue shirt, and orange tinted sunglasses. suddenly i realize that she is the only one wearing the type of clothing for sale at this mall. everyone else is wearing what Gamel and Samir are - cheap, 3rd-rate ripoff merch. she cuts through the crowd easily - everyone is aware of her presence.

its then that i realize that all the people doing laps are not shopping - and in all likliness, they wont be doing any shopping any time soon. only a few egyptians are actually shopping. the rest are like samir and gamel - poor people from the poor suburbs, attracted to the loud, bright commercial space of the mall like moths. with all this time on their hands from unemployment, they circle the mall, window shopping, argueing over which products that they can't afford are better, brushing up on specs of the new Nokia.

we leave the mall and head towards the Nile. tired of their company, I'm trying to politely shake them, and failing.

samir:"cem, why dont you stay at the Nile Hilton?"
cem:"what? my bank account would be done in 2 days."
samir:"oh.. . it costs $185 a night?! you are American, this no problem for you!"
gamel:"that one Ramses Hilton - it $165 for a double"
samir:"or you can go to Marriott - $280, big rooms."

they then listed the exact prices of all of the major hotels, including amenity specifics like cable TV, hot tub. they knew these all by heart, even though all of them were places that would cost them 6 months pay. places they would never be able to afford.

samir:"you try the ritz - this one has big bed."
cem:"guys: my hotel costs $3.00 a night"
samir:"what - you are American?! why?"
gamel:"are you poor in america? you not live the luxury life?"
cem:"luxury life? im not rich. i do have more than one outfit tho, gamel."

--

sitting on the bridge as samir and gamel argue over the price of the Nile Sheraton, i notice a trio of beautiful girls walking across the street.

c:"hmm.. "
samir:"man these are hoookars."
c:"hookers? really? they dont look like it, they look like college students"
samir:"man, I know, i know women, these ones are hookars, they are the bitches"
c:"na .."
samir:"really."
c:"then they look like really expensive well educated hookers. how much?"
samir:"how much? for the having sex with man? only few do it for money. most do it just for fun."

something is going to blow up during the final 10 days of ramadan this year

i took a look at the searches that result in a link to my page. they are kind of like fortune cookies - all mysterious an shit:

the top 5 are:

1. milfs (8)

2. russian nymphettes (5)

3. greys papaya (4)

4. drunk boys fondled (4)

5. captain stubby and meth (!!)


the following searches also sent readers to my page:
dutch clogs breasts

disgustin womans

i was a ten year old gay boy fondled by a gay man

how to make methamphetamines ingredients to make methamphetamine how to cook methamphetamine

argueing over the internet is like winning the special olympics

vietcong sound dampening

pronto shrimp peeling machine

chicken intestines omelet

her massive ass

angry bearded men

recently paralyzed from i need 2003 gay

veiled muslim sluts

russian toenail polish

futuristic leathermen

nice phrases and qoutes



soo - now that i know who my audience is.. .

when i grow up, i want ot be a journalist!

Odyssey of Aussie sheep to end in Eritrean pots

Eritrea said that 50,000 Australian sheep that have been wandering the seas for more than two months are in good health and will eventually be cooked and eaten.

flip

typically wise egyptian insight from Mohammed #12 the horny boab(building caretaker); a plan is hatched

M12THB:"you know, i love jabanese women"
c:"yeah.. . they are beautiful."
M12THB:"'zey is very clean (he makes a sweeping motion over his crotch with a dirty hand) and zey is very polite. HELWA!(sweet)"
c:"yeah, i knew this kinda japanese girl at home. she was beautiful. polite and clean too. i ne-"
M12THB:"zey is so easy. just one hour you talk, and zey fucks you."
c:"really?"
M12THB:"yes, you ask zem if zey want ze tea, if you say yes, and you go to tea, zen (!) you get fucked. so easy."
c:"wow. tea. this ever happen to you?"
M12THB:"habben to me? no. my friend it habben to recent, he fuck zem."
c:"who?"
M12THB:"Mr.Ramadan"
c:"the fat asshole on floor 3?"
M12THB:"haha, yes. fat one. he take Korean woman to a beer and zen he fuck her."
c:"what? Korean is not Jap- ... anyways - when?"
M12THB:"2 day ago"
c:"Mr Ramadan fucked a Korean woman over beer - DURING RAMADAN?"
M12THB:"you know it so easy. zey like the egyptian men, it because the jabanese men - zey have weak sex."
c:"weak sex? what is weak sex?"
M12THB:"zey don't like sex. zey very shy, afraid."
c:"what? you have no idea what you are talking about."
M12THB:"NO - NO - no, is true man!"
c:"you are a fucking elevator man in Cairo, and you are telling me japanese men dont like sex and are afraid and weak. that is the stupidest thing i have ever heard."
M12THB:"LOOK ZE MAN LISTEN-"
c:"NO YOU LOOK- OK- (yelling, argueing, and getting emotional [read:irrational] is apparently part of normal egyptian conversation, so this was friendly) did you ever hear about World War II? do you know what a samurai is? do you have any idea what tentacle porn looks like?"
M12THB:"LOOK OK LOOK - zey are weak, and so shy. zey always quiet, zey always afraid."
c:"whats the arabic word for "culture"?"
M12THB:"for what?"
c:"look- im going to be late. i have to leave."
M12THB:"zer are jabanese women in your hotel, yes?"
c:"i think."
M12THB:"later i can come to visit, maybe we can-"
c:"no man, no."
M12THB:"please man."
c:"no."
M12THB:"man, you so lucky you can have sex, here we cant i want only to have sex, but they wont let me into hotel."
c:"what the - ok mohammed, goodbye."
M12THB:"well - i will will wait for them to come down, and then - maybe tea!"
c:"brilliant."
M12THB:"what?"
c:"nothing."

i learned something exciting and new last night, in the best place to learn exciting and new things - a 3rd world taxi.

c:"peace be upon you, take me to Zamalak please"
Taxi Shiekh:"yes, Zamalak, god willing"
c:"..."
ts:"god willing - happy Ramadan!"
c:".. .."
ts:"uh.. .are you muslim? do you know about ramadan?"
c:"well, my father was a muslim, my mother was a christian."
-oh fuck-
ts: "ah - you are muslim!"
c: "well, no."
ts: "no, your father is muslim - you are muslim"
c: "im sorry, no"
ts:"what? impossible - you are muslim!"
c:"im sorry my friend, untrue."
ts:"YOU ARE MUSLIM - FATHER MUSLIM - YOU ARE MUSLIM, PRAISE BE TO GOD."
c: "no my friend, untrue."
ts:"praise be to god.. so you are christian then, like your mother? we are all people of the book"
c:"no, i am not christian."
ts:"WHAT??"
c:"uh.. "
ts:"do you believe in god?"
c:[switch to english]"do you speak english?"
ts:"yes, i sbeaks a little, yanni. god- yanni, what about god?"
c:"uh.. "
ts:"..."
c:" uh. . .you speak good english"
ts"..yannii. .. sank-you."
c:"my arabic is terrible.."
ts:"nono, its good."
c:"thanks. shookrun giddan."
ts:"..."
c:"...so i wa-"
ts:"you know, it is good that you are learning the arabic.
c:"yeah, i like it - difficult but interesting."
ts:"nono, arabic easy. it is the first language god created. all languages come from this one, so it is easy."
c:"what?"
ts:"yes, its true! English, French, Spanish, German, Russian - all from Arabic."
c:"..what?"
ts:"you see, the word 'mother' in French - 'mama'. in arabic 'um'"
c:"huh..i ..never knew. ."(this is - of course - the most ridiculous and incorrect thing i have ever heard. but as usual, when people here are saying something 100% incorrect, he is 200% sure of it.this guy knows what hes talking about)
ts: "you see all of the world come from arabs. that is why god revealed the last prophet to us - the arabs. we, were chosen. and that is why there is so much oil under the holy cities of mecca and medina.
c:"really?"
ts:"god wants us to spread his message."
c:"that is wonderful."
ts:"you dont believe in god?"
c:"no. and, i am American."
"ts:"- ."
c:"im from Washington DC."
ts:"..."
c:".. ."
ts:"belcome to Cairo"

he turned up his sermon-on-tape.

funny but-
this conversation is in no way singular. this happens often. egyptians seem to me to be more prone to dubious truths than anyone i have ever met.. so far.

now, obviously, you cannot judge a place by its taxicab drivers.

wait - but - actually, this is completely untrue. you can.

like most of the "developing world" egypt is a place where 85 percent of the people are Fucking Poor - like the cabbie (who would actually fall in the upper end of Fucking Poor), 11 percent are Getting By, and 4 percent are Filthy Fucking RICH-RICH-RICH.

you have an upper elite, primarily centered around the wildly corrupt government and the extremely well run tourist sector. they generally ape the west and consume conspiciously and keep everything in the family, hording all the money (like the president's son, who will succeed him after his 20 years on the throne)

you have 11 percent normal people, who are just broke a lot.

then you have a ton of poor people who reject the (secular) government, can't eat enough, are ignorant as fuck because they recieved no education or they are smart as fuck but have nothing to do and cant climb the social ladder because they don't have the right connections. they are bitter about it, unsurprisingly.
they do, however, have religion.
miserable people turn to religion.
religion gives young, out-of-a-job guys something to do.
it's one very good, proven way to make yourself happy and mute poverty.

and how can i blame them for not wanting to mimic the snotty American Univerity of Cairo elites that annoy the fuck out of even me?

id take a little green book and a prayer-bruise over ill-fitting ass-pants shameless imitation and supplication to the west.

well.. i think.

love in the time of ramadan

ahmed: "egyptian women, they are so arrogant, i mean.. its sexy. they just know that they have it, this thing its so-"
cem: "this thing?"
a: "yeah, this thing, yanni (egyptians say yanni a lot. roughly, it means "you know?") that european women and american women don't have. i mean, european women - they have more money, they can dress nicer but, you know, they don't have it."
c: "let me guess-"
a: "they are virgins, yanni, noone has taken them. they are pure."
c: "and so european and american women are all sluts right?"
a: "i mean, they don't take care of themselves, they get fucked all the time, its just so easy. and yanni, they really like egyptian men."
c: "haaahahahaha . .. egyptian men? bullshit. no, the stereotype is that arab men are crude, slimy, hairy, and sex obsessed in the 'states, that they have no respect for women, along with the whole terrorist/suicide bomber thing."
a: "yanni, lets not talk abut palestine and the jews agai-"
c: "oh, hell no we wont. - so european/American women are sluts."
a: 'look, i don't think this way, i have worked with international tourists for years, i know its a diferent culture. but to the men on the street that you see bothering all of the tourist women, they think that western women will just open their legs for them. they think that all western women just like to be fucking all the time. and you know that the egyptian women won't fuck them until they are ... have marriage, so they see on the TV brittany spears and these Sexy American movies, and they think that American and European women are just sluts. and you know, sometimes this is true. australians or americans fuck these guys after only a couple of hours in the bar."
c: "so then the guys go home and tell their friends."
a: "of course. this is the main way you are going to have sex before marriage here. have sex with a european. or an ethiopian or sudanese - they all like to fuck. or in some clubs there are many russian and philipino prostitutes."
c: "wait, wait, sudanese and ethiopian - black. philipino.. philipino. russian european american - white. rest - arab. so, all non-arab women are sluts?"'
a: "like i said, egyptian women have something."
c: "oh for fuck's sake-"
a: "what?"
c: "so you can go fuck around with foreign women all you want, and you are still going to marry a puuure virgin. and all your women are virgins, huh? and you have sex with lots of western and black women, and go home and tell your friends about it. america may be a superpower but - our women are all sluts, and futhermore, you've fucked them and they like arab men. is that what you think?
a: "well, its true. america is in power, yes, yanni but there is something wrong with the culture, its true. thats why you have all this gun violence and the racism-
c: "what the - racist? violence? yes, but, welcome to everywhere in the world, especially here - egypt is racist as hell - what dud you just tell me about women?"
a: "not like america, you have so many black people getting killed, yanni, its on the news. and you have all of these rapes. we dont have theives here, no raping."
c: ".. .except for non-arabs, who can get hustled and groped on the street, and whose women are all sluts, whatever the word slut means. and you have never been to america, fool. you just see the stupid articles in the newspapers (in places like china and the arab world, where america is a rival, they have special sections devoted to chronicleing just how racist/wierd/evil/violent life in America -Really- is, just like we have articles devoted to just how Wrong their lives are)"
a: "well, in america, the women, like i said, dont take care of themselves. in muslim mostly arab - countries they do."
c: " oh! finally! is this the one thing that the arab world has to offer the rest of the world aside from oil? virgin women?"
a: "yanni, calm down. look, we like to have pure women. yeah, i mean, its a different culture, this is important to us, our religion."
c: "your religion? were you chanting the Koran when you were humping that drug-addled russian prostitute? the book fit real good between her bruised up brea-"
a: "YANNI - its ramadan, you cannot say these things, we should not even be talking like this."
c: "ok, fine, ill shut up but you are a hypocrite. and to finish - i'd way rather marry a "slut" than a virgin. i don't even understand the word slut means?!"
a: "you'd rather marry a slut?"
c: "i mean, someone who ive had sex with. a lot. maybe not a russian ex-prostitute. i mean, how can you buy a house that you want to live for the rest of your life in without having at least had a look around? inside i mean. uh, i mean.."
a: "well, id like my bride pure"
c: "pure. ok. you want to marry a virgin."
a: "of course. i mean, its so SEXY, yanni!"
c: "whats so sexy about a bleeding vagina?"
a: "what?"
c: "you know, the first time, blood and everything."
a: "yanni.. thats disgusting. its ramadan."
c: "i'm just asking why you like that so much."
a: "KHALAS (finish) YANNI!"
c: "hahahahahaaha"

HOLY FUCKING FUCKING


What I wrote about in "Muslim sideshow" is being proven true. My well informed friends at Burma magazine Irrawaddy are confirming it here:

its friday morning and the imams are wailing.
raving.

the holy day, the air is filled with noise from weathered speakers, certain shops are closed. notably the oddly named "Mad-dog Books" on talat harb st, the one with the colorful "greatist hits of sheik osama-bin-laden" books, is shut. stray cats play in its doorway.

some imams are repeating memorized sunnas from the koran, screaming them. i can almost see the lines of spittle arcing from their mouths, encrusting the beards around their mouth in religion-induced-foam.

i imagine that if we mixed a droplet of this foam with a particle of tammy-fay-bakers religion-induced-mascara there would be a massive explosion. i suppose we have seen these exposions already, in baghdad and new york.

i pick up a few words here and there in the graceful medieval koranic arabic that they are using. even to someone who does not understand the meaning, many sunnas of the koran just sound beautiful with their rhyming, winding beat and emphatic repetition.

muslims will tell you that the the koran is the one of the great if not the chief miracle of islam. the language in it is so rich and so complex that it could only have come from god, they say. this is why muslims from around the world to study the koran in arabic, and their native tongue. whether or not it came from god via the archangel gabriel into the hermitic prophet mohammed's ear 1,300 years ago or not, some verses just sound beautiful.

"sometimes when i hear certain verses of the koran it just makes shivers run up and down my spine." says my friend Samr as he clenches both fists and shakes, as if electrified. i imagine a SIGINT team in the pentagon turning a satellite towards us. "i understand why people are comforted in martyrdom operations (suicide attacks) - it just takes you over and you want to die for islam, or for something - you are ready to give your life - it just instantly connects you to something bigger than you."

i assume at first that he is kidding, but he is not. Samr is a well educated man, his english is magnificant and he commands french just as competely. he is the kind of man who uses words like "autocratic" and "exponential" as he sucks on filterless cigarettes - smart and honest.

Samr's words are not unlike someone who once described to me the feeling one gets when one sees the American flag - the man who told me this was a veteran. Samr's words are not unlike the last scene in saving private ryan.

my last year of highschool an english teacher told me one of the most important things a teacher has ever told me.
"my husband says that religion and nationalism are the 2 most dangerous forces in the world". when i woke up on Sept 11 to my older sister screaming through the answering machine at me to "wake the FUCK up." i immediately thought of this sentence. turning on the TV, i repeated it in my mind over and over.


--


it was me that 5 years ago said that islam is not an inherently violent religion. i still believe it, but maybe not as much - something really ain't right. it was me that spoke up in class when the essay "Jihad Vs McWorld" came up in the reading, trying to explain the fact that jihad meant "personal struggle", not just holy war.

i was right. it meant. meant - past.
language evolves based on common understanding, and this word has been subverted. anyone still telling you otherwise is part of the apologist crowd to which i was once part of. chief among these people are those who have never been to the middle east and those who are married to someone from the middle-east. nearly all of these people are academics who are not accustomed to dealing with the actual world.

these days i would say something different - i know the name of the man who changed the meaning of the word, he far predated Osama. egyptian and saudi followers of his actually tried to kill Osama in Sudan in 1995 because Osama -holy shit- wasnt radical enough for them.

AK-47 girl, Sonja, put it well when she said that "..these societies are organized around one thing - a green book, the Koran. everything in life is supposed to spring from this 1,300 year old book, but there is a limit to the amount you can get from this book." Sonja is right. these societies are not moving forward- they are stuck in this book, frozen in time. you can only extrapolate so much from a 1300 year old epic poem, and its difficult to fit it around things like the internet and nano-technlogy.

it reminds me of when i was in Cuba, and i saw the daily newspaper which had a picture of Fidel and Che on the cover sharing a victory cigar after their 1960 victory. the headline said "We Won!" as if the victory was yesterday and not 40 years ago. the goverment, the people, were frozen, reliving the past over and over. contemporary non-moderate islam seems to be doing the same thing - reliving a glorious past over and over -- except this past is 1300 years old, strictly defined, and worse yet - it is a past in which its heros were expansionist. the House of War, the House of Peace. you, reader, live in the the House of War - you will one day be converted.

it is me that now agrees that islam as we know it today is a failing tradition (religions too evolve based on common understanding), it is me that agrees that it has lost its way - from SE Asia to N. Africa. its not as if muslims are evil - faaar from it - it is just that this tradition doent seem to be capable of bending or growing

i now understand Ataturk, the "Father of the Turks", who recognized this in 1916 and turned Turkey's head away from Mecca and towards Europe, who banned the fez, who destroyed the caliphate (the pope of islam) - an act that Osama and religious wackos still refer to as a major grievance. Ataturk traded religion for nationalism - the lesser of two evils. Pakistan's Pres/General Pervez Musharraf is a man who idolizes Ataturk - and thats why George W. Bush has him on fucking speed-dial. oddly, i find that Musharref and i are in the same boat. we look forward instead of back.

this boat keeps taking on water. bearded guys with goats, and men waving old books - one green and one black - are trying to destroy it. not all of them, it appears, are in the middle east.


--


i woke up across town today. i was in a triple room, three single beds. one was empty, untouched. one was messed up. i was sleeping in the third. my head hurt badly. i remember Sakara 7 stars - a strong Egyptian beer, and then getting a room with an Eritrean girl. at least i think this happened, this wasnt a dream. fuck, i dont know.

we walked around talking before hand. everyone made catcalls and assumed she was a prostitute because she was black, attractive, and walking with me after midnite. Egypt, like most of the world, is a deeply racist place.

i remember our hilarious night together, i remember the morning. at 4:30 AM the muezzin calls the faithful/disciplined to prayer. at 4:30, as the beautiful and haunting "allllahhhhhu 'akbar sounded from a nearby mosque.

i looked down at the girl in the soft, blue morning light. playfully, i had tied her up with her headscarf. her veil. the symbol of her allegience to islam, her piety.

she was tied down with it. she could not move.

the dawn call to the faithful curled through the room.

i woke up alone.

egyptian man: "please, please, let me take you there."
Cem:"no, no, im sure i can find it."
em:"no, please just giving me one second and i will close the shop and take you."
c:"no, its ok, im sure i can get there"
em: "i insist, you are guest. here have some water. would you like some tea?"
c:"no, really, i cannot. please"
em:"what? no.. no tea?"
c:"im sorry, i cannot, but thankyou my friend."

em closes his cell phone shop despite the fact that it is the middle of the day. as we walk he smiles at me and starts joking in the way i am becoming familiar with - the egyptian tease - the harmless but barbed, loud yet sly, winking humor that fills the cairo streets and coffee houses with noise.

em:"come with me mr.bush, right this way. now as a favor for me guiding you to the metro, i wish that you ask your amazing airforce to bomb this shop -" he points to a nearby cell phone shop, presumably his competitor"- they are really assholes for my business."
c: "what about the school nearby?
em:"yes, but that never stop them before in iraq"
c: "well, its no problem, the 'collateral damage' will be very little! actually, little children."
em: ".. yes.."

clearly i fucked that little conversation up.

none-the-less, he laughed, and i felt extremely uncomfortable with my sense of humor.

we walked to the metro station together. he was hilarious the whole time.
as usual in egypt, he introduced me to all of his passing friends and family - what must have been 15 people - along the way. i refused tea, seats, and cigarettes at least 10 times.

i was late but
it doesnt matter -
everybody is late.
late means people want your company, they want to say hello and ask about your family - even if superficially. and you want their company and want to know about their family. - it means you have social connections that are hard to break away from. late can be good.

is there any connection to this understanding that people and family and friends and life is more important than business and career goals ... and the broken down buildings and chaos around me - the inefficient businessess and government, the filth and squalor?

probably a little.

but which one is worse? bad business and lots of social life (sitting for tea for hours, missing appointments, missing deadlines, hiring family, living with family, sitting up all night with friends in coffee houses) or good business and very little social life(coming home exhausted, staying late at the office, less time with the kids, 6 days a week of work, moving away from family and friends for a job, 5 days of time off - A YEAR)? again, i have a lot more thinking to do.



i got to the metro station (oddly, the metro here is superior to new york's and dc's - and unlike the rest of the city - its quiet, clean, and on time),

em smiled and clapped me on the back.
em: "i will wait for the bombs. soon please, i want to buy a new TV."

the guy was hilarious
and i was late.
but it wasn't a bad thing.

oh god not now not no-

"tahib shai? tafaddil! (you like tea? please come in!)"

fuck! i have an appointment! nooooooo!!

"la, la, la asif ya sadiki ana masghuul (no, no, im sorry my friend im busy)" i said in my 4th grade arabic.

they looked at me, horrified, dumbfounded, disgusted. refuse tea? thats like shitting on grandma in the states. how could you refuse tea? how could you shit on my grandmother?

maybe thats not exactly the best cultural translation but

but, i came in for tea.
i was on the way to a meeting, but fuck, who cares? business? what? god put you in front of me and now we will have tea and share a few minutes with eachother.


as an american, the chief criticism i got from egyptians was not our recent american fondness for blowing arabs into sizzling little hunks with fancy high-tech weapons, it was our american allegiance to business and schedules. its just inhuman to them. in their eyes, what is most disturbing about America (and Japan and Germany too) is how much we fucking work, and how little focus there is on social life and friends and family. and sitting for tea.

--

third cup of tea? oh sure - i didnt have an appointment with anyone. but this is cairo! appointment? tea!

cem: "2 sugars please, praise be to god."

yes, i could feel my beard growing everytime i reflexively said "praise be to god" (il'hamdul'allah) or "god willing" (insh'allah) - words that punctuated even the simplest sentences.

i sat staring out the window, noting how in American english, the word "fuck" is the all-time most powerful word, one which can be used in endless ways and for endless twists of expression. (fuckin hell. what the fuck? aw fuck. fuck'm. FUCK ME! fuuuck me. fuck you. fuckin' jerk. fuck. fucker. jesus fucking christ! ahhh fuck - fuckin retarded fuckin sex offenders again - FUCK! ruuun! oh fuck! etc.)

in arabic, the word god (allah) seems to be the most versetile, common and powerful word.
for example-
taxi driver: "where to?(fain?)
fucking cem: "to Zamalek, God-willing (ilaZamalek, insh'allah)"
taxi driver: "praise be to God (il-Hamdulliallah)" (meaning - OK)
-cem gets into dented little black and white cab. music blaring from one 2 inch speaker, window doesnt work.-
cem: "O God! (y'allah!)"(meaning - lets go!)
taxi driver: "to Zamalik, God willing. (ilaZamalik, insh'allah)"
cem "And my God!(W'allahi!)"(meaning - OF COURSE!)
cem:"How are you O brother[in Islam]?(Izziak ya akhi)(meaning - how are you, im a muslim too, or at least pretending to be, so dont rip me off too bad)
taxi drivr: "Praise be to god(il-Hamdulli'allah)"(meaning - I'm fine, thank god.)

i was thinking about what that meant for our two societies, and the way in which the two societies were colliding.

God Vs Fuck

I guess it made a little sense. I mean, in a horribly simple way. Islam- a sexually conservative religion where women are encourgaed to cover their bodies and no sexual contact between the sexes is sanctioned before marriage (even walking down the street with someone of the opposite sex who isnt your husband or family is considered scandalous), where sexual standards on TV are very 700-club.. versus . .. versus. . Brittany Spears, string bikinis, Sex in the City, and internet porn.


(but what about "jesus-fucking-christ!"?)


--


i was staring out the window at women walking by with their beautiful headscarves wondering whether the scarves were restrictive, or liberating (according to the feminist academic crock of shit that came up notion of the "[EVIL]Male Gaze", probably liberating, though they would never admit because of the Islam-is-horrible-for-women feminist party line, or they would add a couple of clauses of other BS)(I [fucking]hate academics) when -

i realized i was still having tea with these Bedouin guys from my friend Figo/Gamel's class.

and the Bedouin guys were all smiling. all 4 of them, who had come up for 2 months to live in the flophouse directly below penthouse flophouse i was living in. the hotel was named "Pension Suisse" but there was nothing Swiss about it, aside from a badly painted red swiss cross on the door, the kind you see on Swiss army knives.

finding it important to make conversation while drinking tea, i asked the nearest guy, a long haired guy named Samir why he was in Cairo.

Samir: "To learn Italian. To fuck the Italian women."

as he said this, he made a thrusting motion. I was in the line of fire. Retaliating, I said:

"You have come to Cairo to learn Italian, to fuck the Italian women. How long are you here for?"

s: "Two months. Then back to Sharm a'Sheik.(A tourist hotspot) I teach the diving, and I like the Italian women."
mbd: "They good fuckars"
Mono-brow Dude made a similar thrusting motion.
c: "have you ever fucked one?"
mbd laughs: "Future, yes."
c:"future? insh'allah?"
s:"yes, of course. all women from europe and america, canada, australia, they fuck easy. not like egyptian women, they are diffcult, they wont even talk to you unless marriage."
c: "so western women are your only chance for sex, egyptian girls won't do it.
s:"most egyptian girls wont. it difficult. their family makes it difficult."
c: "and to you all western women are-
mbd: "-slut."
c:"slut?"


i had some more thinking to do.

Dear Doomed, Foresaken Planet:

Arnold is governer of California. There is a Chinaman on the way to space. "Pop-rocks" are still a popular snack among middle-schoolers despite their known lethality. Worst yet, I am now masquerading as a guest regional expert:

http://www.atimes.com/atimes/Southeast_Asia/EJ21Ae01.html

God help us all,
Cem

i LOVE japanese people.
and the little emails they send me.
they are so cryptic.
its like poetry.

for example:


"hi!
kaifa faalan? (arabic in ENGLISH. see - they are so smart - like ROBOTS. extremely clean good at math robots.)thank you very much your mail.
i am rearlly sorry not to send you.
mitsuyo and I went to go sightseeing.
in alexandria and bahriyya oasis and deserts.
it is very exiting days!!
but we exhausted.
that is why we cannot send to you.
i'm very sorry.

i am looking forward to meet you next time!

if possible. next time,
there is an amusement park in cairo,
name is dream park. (am i being insulted here?)
don't you want to go there?
surprisingly, we can enjoy. (does she totally want me?)(anyone ever heard of tentacle porn?)(nevermind.)
maybe we study on arabic us too? (what? i dont kow what you mean, but YES.)

ma'asallaallma!! (more of this JAPO-ARAB-ENGRISH!! how exotic.)

fumikasasaki


who want to teach me nipponese?

saleh: "you know secretly my dream.."
cem: "yeah?"
s:"my dream, my secret dream is that something habben' like Iraq habben here, but in the beaceful way."
c:"you mean-"
s:"i mean 'zese government here, 'zey are the most motherfuckers. there is no middle class. there is just us boor beoble, and some rich motherfuckers. we have no freedom. zey keeb our money, and every day i work for 10 hours for 10 bounds ($1.60). zis rich kid here (he points to an American Univeristy of Cairo student on a cell phone eating a sandwich), he has rich father, brobably in ze government. my father, he sell ta'amia (falafel). i have no chance. i have NO CHANCE. i speak some english a little, german, some jabanese, some sbanish and italian. still i have no chance."

he stirs the gray brown pot of mashed wide beans, fool, egypt's breakfast of champions.

c:" uh.. bi'limoon..min fadlik" i say.
meaning: with lemon please.

he ladles out a slimy bowl of fool, hands me a rough pile of bread for dipping.
s: "nuss"
meaning "1/2 bound"
meaning "8 cents"

meaning..

ahmed: "My aunt, she live in Manhattan!"
cem: "OK, my twin sister lives in Manhattan, along with maybe half of my friends from university."
a: "look, she said there was a huge party. they were all celebrating. i believe it."
c: "party? celebrating? bullshit."
a: "how can you explain the fact that they all took the day off? they all told eachother! they all knew."
c: "are you fucking kidding me?"
a: "man, you don't know. these people are like that. they will do anything."
c: "these people?"
a: "yes, the jews."
c: "jews or isrealis or zionists?"
a: "no difference."
c: "ok. the jews flew the airplanes into the world trade center. the jews told eachother about it before hand, and so everyone took the day off and none of them were in the towers."
a: "all around the world jews took the day off. my neighbor at the juice shop is jewish - he was not working that day."
c: " OK - and noone in America noticed this. and then they had a Big Celebration in new york city, that your aunt saw, to celebrate their Secret Plan to destroy the towers."
a: "well - "
c: "yes or no?"
a: "yes. of course. ask anyone around here."

AK-47 girl:"right through here"

she leads me through the burned out bottom level of the British Club in Mohandiseen. it had been 2 days since the fire. they don't think that it was arson.

AK-47 girl:"and up here"

we climb the stairs and find ourselves in a small pub with several small roundtops and
a pool table. the patrons seem, rather unsurprisingly, to be British mostly - middle aged and social. we take a seat at an empty table. it is my birthday.

AK-47girl's real name is (red) Sonja. despite the fact that she grew up maybe 3 miles from me, went to a neighboring highschool, went to the same university as i did, studied the exact same subjects and classes as i did, and graduated at the same time as i did, i have just met her. in Cairo. i became aware of her online, and decided i had to contact her after seeing a picture of her in Yemen with an AK-47, and a smiling mustachioed Akbar of some type in the background. the picture alone had earned her my instant allegience.

we talk for some time, swap stats and find ourselves once again in somewhat similar shoes. her shoes tho are much more broken in than mine. she has been in the region for some 2 years. she has a strong command of spoken and classical Arabic, and a good amount of regional experience. its the kind of hard-won experience i hope to gain in the region over the next 1-2 years.. at least according to Plan A.

but.. after all of this time teaching learning anf travelling in the region.. .she is completely fed up with the region.

"its a worthless region" she told me later. "honestly, i don't see it going anywhere. its completely culturally intolerant and it's backward thinking. there is no such thing as progess. honestly - im sick of it."

and already i can't help but agree. we talk more. unsurprisingly, given our mutual backgrounds, we are thinking many of the same things. the only Arabs of any international standing were educated in. .. yep, the West. racism runs veeery deep all over the M.East. treatment of women is backwards (although, just as bad as most of the rest of Asia.) and cannot be written off with cultural relativism. etcetc.

she's seen these things over 2 years. i however, have been here for 7 days. i knew i wouldn't love the Cairo - that was no doubt. but i wasn't prepared for how much i would dislike it. i wonder if i will make it a year here.

maybe i just dont understand something crucial yet - maybe it will all fall in place - maybe that same bug that bit me when i first got into the middle east will come back and pull me back in - the multiple cultures, the languages, the mystery of islam, the Challenge of it all - the obsession i had for years reading insanely boring books about the region -

maybe not.

honestly, at this moment i don't think so. now that i can see it with my own eyes, i don't want to make excuses for these people and this culture anymore. while the people are outwardly warm and friendly, its fucking backwards, and its hostile at heart, and overall, it is intolerant. the question is - do i want to stay here for a year of my life to figure out how to keep it in check - how to keep it from threatening he place i have strangely becme so proud of in my absence? the place that, for all its problems, created hip-hop, the internet, BBQ, womens lib, Goonies, Fugazi, bluegrass, NYC, Austin, Jefferson, Dylan, the 1965 Ford Mustang Fastback, daisy dukes and mufuckin' NutterButters?

we'll see.
im considering switching to japanese.

--


BAE: "marry the woman with the lowest education that you can find!"
cem: "yeah?"
BAE: "you don't want smart wife - you want good mother. you want a little bit pretty for your wife, not too pretty. but your girlsfriends must be pretty!!"

he shut his sagging eyes and pursed his lips together as if to sneeze - then unexpectedly burst into the kind course, gutteral laughter which can be produced only by Slavs, and only when past the point of socially acceptable drunkedness. the rest of he British Club's patrons paid little notice.

the Bosnian Abassador to Egypt was an antique man. he thought it fitting that on my birthday he should give me life advice, and called me his "American Nephew". this was OK with me. later, he joined in with everyone in singing me happy birthday. this was OK with me. his ancient, pink belly pushed out through an unbuttoned section of his button-up. he hunched over on his stool and raised a thick, crooked finger. i sipped my bourbon and prepared for more Balkan wisdom.

it was my birthday for chrissakes, and everything was going well.


--


"vatch out!" said the guy with the goofy rings.
and then he made a goofy record-scratching motion, touched his invisible headphones and bobbed his head staring at me.

in the most retarded way concievable, the Egyptian man across the pool table was trying to intimidate me at the beginning of the game. clearly not in keeping with the Detroit hip-hop affect he was attempting at, he kissed his male friends hello and held hands with one.

i cocked my head to the side and smiled. what a fucking idiot.

"Belcome to Cairo!" i said to him in a mocking horrible Egyptian accent. it was the phrase they all learn in school, and every little boy and girl is instructed to greet tourists with the line.

he wasn't amused.

he lost with 3 balls on the table.


--


vemg:"so are you going to tie me up?"

the beautiful veiled ethiopian muslim girl who i had ended up kissing in Sonja's apartment elevator the night of my birthday seemed to be enthusiatic about our next encounter. reflexively, i quickly glanced around the phone booth to ensure that noone could hear me before i answered.

the booth was a teal kind of green, it read "Menetel" in English and in Arabic. 3 mechanics were taking a pause for their evening prayers about 3 meters away, pressing their heads to the ground, facing mecca, like perhaps 100s of millions of people at this very moment around the region. dead opposite of mecca, i thus recieved a fantastic view of 3 egyptian mechanic asses. i hoped these asses didn't speak english.

cem:"sure."

'jesus' i thought 'i can't believe i just said that. how retarded. and.. tied up? what the hell?'

I thought of her black headscarf, symbol of her eh.. piety, and her sharp featured semetic face. I thought of catholic school girls in virginia, and the reputation they carried among us hormonal public highschoolers as being extra permiscuous as a reaction to their extra-strict and repressive religious educations. it must be the same with muslims - but worse.
its the same principal of human nature. you tell a kid no, and she-

vmeg: "i want to be tied up."

- wants to be tied up. christ. christ? no, mohammed. thank-you mohammed.

this is not what i expected from a covered girl.. . or .. from anyone in Egypt for that matter.

her god will strike me down for this.

again, i don't understand but
im beginning to
but still -
what the fuck?


--


"FUCK!"

"eh, vhat Jeem, eh .. problem?"

i was teaching Gamel English, and he was teaching me the spoken Egyptian dialect. he was an incredibly fast learner.

"Gamel, a bird just shit on me."

I looked up at a row of pigeons on a wire above. They shook their bird-asses, mocking me.

"Goods lucks! This mean good luck in Egypt. You are goods lucks!"

I looked down at the stain on my pants. It was bright white, like paint, with a brown smear in the middle.

"This is fucking good luck?"
"Jyes. Goods lucks."
"OK.."

I wiped the good luck off my pants and tried to wipe it on Gamel. He jumps back, laughing.

"My luck goodgood! Always! I don't want!"

We laughed. The guys at the next table seemed to understand, and they laughed too.

Something clicks.

ps: i'm 25 today. word up to twin sister.

nearly alone in the middle east. good times. but -

i've got the coordinates of a pork-chop, some beer, and a nice person from Virginia.

we'll see.

i was sitting in a street-side restuarant with maksim, the american guy with russian origins. clever guy. good arabic.

i was settling into my low flu-fever and after dinner bloated feeling, maksim was explaining something about jewish mindset and culture.

there was a shadow.
a huge paw of a hand swept my plate clean and stuffed the bits of chewed and spat out lamb grizzle into one of the leftover pieces of pita on our table.
my eyes met his eyes.
i dont remember his face, just his eyes. they were brown, beady, angry looking, yellow whites, bulging at me; they were familiar. my dog cara defending a small peice of pork i dropped in the kitchen once.

he walked away, i saw him from behind.
he was tall, fat, and not poorly dressed.
it happened in maybe 2 seconds.

c: "desperate, huh?"
m: "i think so."

"Mr. Cem!"

I look across the bedroom at Akbar. Hes sitting to the left of the computer that Mohammed #1 and Mohammed #4 are fighting over. They are installing Windows XP professional onto a Pentium 2 PC. This software, when legally purchased, costs more than they make in a year, especially in the slum town of Helwan we are sitting in, in which the roads are uneven dirt and garbage is simply thrown into unkempt piles and picked over by legions of cats. There is a donkey outside. They didn't purchase the software.

"Mr. Cem!"

Akbar again. He was a nice guy, if a little dim cmopared to the rest. He crosses his wrists in front of himself, palms inward, as if to display handcuffs.

M4:"Akbar want to say yesterday he arrested for fighting on the train."

Akbar smiles at me, shaking a huge, stubby Felaheen fist at me. I note that his forehead is one inch.

M1: "Mr. Cem! Do like Terminator 3?" M1 is starting Windows Media Player to show me the movie. I imagine the American developers who wrote the code for WMP, and if they ever imagined this kind of user. It occurs to me that maybe copy-proof software is a good thing, and that from Shanghai to Tunis people are freeloading on American/Japanese ingenuity. I flinch, beacuse I have always been anti-copyright, but I cannot deny the feeling.

Staring at the guys fighting over whos going to control WMP, I realize that seeing illegal copies of all kinds of software and entertainment in Thailand never bothered me. What was bothering me was that these people are the same ones who were just talking shit about my country, and now they are high fiving to one of America's worst sequels ever on pirated American software.

M4: "Mr. Cem! You like Egyptian music?" Suddenly M4 switches T3 to some kind of horrible Egyptian pop. All 4 guys jump up and start dancing at once, in a way that I find horribly goofy, feminine, and alien all at once. Akbar gets a large knife from the next room, and they start incorporating the knife into the dance, passing it from person to person weaving it through the air, throwing it from hand to hand. I was dumbfounded.

Figo:"Senore Cem, musica Egyptiano bieno, no?" (sp?)

Figo's real name is Gamel, but he doesn't know English, so he speaks to me in Italian, of which I understand 30 percent. None-the-less I was met with unbelieveable hospitality several hours prior when his whole family took me in for dinner. Figo's mother, who has breast cancer and cannot afford a doctor, prepared an unusually good meal for me on the spot, even making the pita bread fresh and by hand. We sat around the TV in their ancient two story house watching re-runs of October 6th celebrations which reminded me of the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in Salt-Lake City.

Amid all the dancing, M1's mother enters the room with 6 glasses of fresh mango juice.

"Shookrun." (Thanks) I say "Enti latifa gidan" (you are so very nice)
"Afwan" She says, and walks back to the female area of the house.

Suddenly M1 looks at me, and seemingly out of nowhere asks:

"Mr. Cem - do like Bush, or Saddam?"

Politics are far more important to everyday life and conversation here in the ME than in the US, and often when people know I am American, it seems that the statements are on the tip of their tongue

M1's father suddenly enters the room - a small, wide man in a long white robe, his forehead bruised form constant supplication. In English he blurts out:

"Saddam good man. His people love him. He make them happy."

Knowing better than to argue with the man of the (muslim and arab) house in a religious quarter of a very distant slum in the biggest Arab city the world, yet not wanting to bend over for this and aware that any attempt at explaining would be unproductive, I looked at Figo quickly and said-

"Coza-coza" (Italian for so-so)

I smiled and looked at my mango juice.

Mohammed #1's mother, covered completely in black except for her eyes and thick hands peered through the door.

She blinked.
I blinked.
And for a few moments, we were all silent.

Hey Everybody - Happy 6th October!

WHAT?! You DON'T KNOW about 6 Oct.?! Please tell me you are kidding. Praise be to God that He designed you with such humor.

Wait, you ... you don't? What are you, some kind of hooked nosed Zionist blood-sucking hydra who will spend eternity in hell chewed by nameless vermin made only of fire and pure misery for your unforgivable sin of being born into the pool of unholy venom and filth that is the Jewish race, praise be to God?

Ha ha, of course you aren't you silly American! Of course you don't know - you are merely mindless peon of those subhuman villains! You still have a chance for eternal paradise! Now listen -

Ever heard of Columbus day? Its similar, 'cept not really an all out genocide thing. Okok, listen close -

Get out your [Egyptian only please. Er, those approved of by the Ministry of Education only please] History books - because TODAY is the the anniversary of that time we really kicked Isreal's ass!

Yep, its FUCK ISRAEL day here in Masr - the mother of the world, aka - Cairo. Want a balloon? No? Howabout a flag? OK - OK - oh! Let the little one light it!

So, jeepers - we are having a REALLY BIG PARADE, and everyone can stay home and spend this time with the children!! Bring the kids - you are never too young to learn to hate!

Our unstoppable army of synchronized hairy men will march down Talat Harb Street in Al Qahira - the City Victorious - in remembrance of how We Fucked Them Up! .. in 1956.. uh.. once. . well, it wasn't really a war.. it.. it was one big battle really, and we.. uh.. lost every single other confrontation. . .but shit, for those 6 hours, they were running, they were RUNNING!

Look, despite the fact that military historians call the defeats suffered by Egyptian and Syrian forces at the hands of much smaller Isreali forces from WWII forward some of the most audacious, and comprehensive in modern military history, we really fucked them up that one time!! Boo-ya!

Good times! .. Yep, and I'm celebrating by kicking some INFIDEL ASS, my very own ass actually, as I prepare to throw myself down a flight of stairs and give myself multiple papercuts with this embossed holy Koran.

Whos with me???

What? This has nothing to do with religion?? This is a purely nationalist/political situation that has little to do with religion and is merely a memorial for those lost in battle in the struggle for the return of indigenous land from imperialist fuckers?

Oh you are rightrightright!! This is the middle-east, religion is barely relevent.

And the Muslim Brotherhood/Islamic Opposition here in Cairo isn't nearly as powerful as the actual fucking government, so the government isn't scared for it's survival, and doesn't use opportunities like this to show the population that they can have a religious dimension/role as well.

That said, yeah, I can see the whole imperialist fuckers thing. BURN THEM BURN THEM BURN THEM!!


Do you hear something?

Whats that Mr. Said? Oh wait, I can't hear you, because you are burning in a special area in hell reserved for non-muslims. You will merely face eternal punishment at the hands of barbed imps, which is not without its moments of pleasure. Another plus is I think you can get Harpers down there. Ta!

.
.

.

..damn this is a fucked up situation, I don't agree with any side over here.

Happy 6 Oct.

and God Bless religious wackos - Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, and Jewish.

i put down the chopsticks, it all changed.

Bangkok International Airport, I was sitting back with my eyes shut, feeling happily bloated from the totally unnescessary 2nd dinner I had taken. I was just about to carefully let a giant, magnificant burp escape quietly after a huge bowl of Thai noodles - they were sen yai - the wide kind, the ones with the balls of congealed pork blood that i love so damn much and the pounded 'salted crab' on top and then -

and then:

"You are finish? 120 baht sir thankyou."

I looked up at the waitress. Unlike before, before when she had invited me me to sit down and after, when she had commented how happy I looked with my food with a sweet, shrill Thai "Arroy, nakha?" -

Unlike before, she was not smiling. She wanted me to pay and fucking Move. She looked pained, and urgent. This was very un-Thai. Something must be wrong? Something must be wrong. And then I heard it. Arabic.

"Fee lahim sandawitch?"(Do they have meat sandwiches?)
"La ya habibi, ma'feesh, yallah - al mata'aam mish qwais, w'al-bint 'aandah"(No my dear, they dont have them, c'mon lets go. The restuarant is no good and this girl is slow)

I looked behind the girl in front of me - she seemed paler than any Thai skin whitening cream could have gotten her.

All I could see was black.

I finally understood that I was leaving Asia.

The work was beginning.

--

Walking towards the gate, I looked back. The 4 women from Saudi Arabia or some other gulf country were swarming around the table I had been enjoying, it looked like a ninja party. They were fully covered - all black burkas revealing only their eyes, and shapely, bejeweled hands. I could sense that the poor Thai girl hadn't seen anything like it before. I heard their broken English and hilariously stupid questions to ask at a Thai restuarant, about whether they had bread or lamb noodles in broken English.
Fucking Saudis.
They need to be educated. And shaved.

--

Egypt Air, flight 804 nonstop to Cairo.
The service in the air - stunning.
The attendents? Surly.
The food? Scary, horrible mock western.
The passangers? Angry. It had been less than a month since Egypt Air changed their smoking policy on-board, and several people had to be asked to put away their lit cigarettes.

I recalled a paragraph in a Middle East affairs journal I had read some time ago, in which an Egypt Air flight had been hijacked. Egyptian "commandos" had boarded the plane on the runway in Cairo. The hijackers were killed by the crack team, along with 57 passengers who were caught in the crossfire. There were 92 passengers on board.

It is not terrorism I am worried about, it is just the Egyptians. Something in my gut is telling me ..

--

Cairo Egypt.

a better writer called this place the "great upturned ashtray". I have to agree with him. the fucker.

But I'm all for urban blight.

Cairo, where rabid seething Imams scream into microphones on Friday - gutteral, desperate, angry.
Was it I that said that Islam is not inherently violent?
This sounds violent. I've never heard a Christian or buddhist sound like this. This screaming can't be creating a sense of tranquility.

Cairo, where covered women move down the streets on platform open-toed shoes, their ill-bent and brightly colored toes a source of excitement for the ubiquitous nose-picking guards in white cheap uniforms crouched on every street.

Where believers who pray so much they have permanently bruised foreheads (like Wesely Willis, RIP) and confused looking eyes which scan you, relentlessly, unshyly, as you stand nearby.

Where the Muslim Brotherhood's samizdat tracts are passed out quickly on the French-built metro, and collected before the next stop.

Where lines don't exist - you simply crowd around the ticket booth/cashier and wave your money, stepping on anyone, stealing a ticket if the cashier looks away.

Cairo, home of the Felaheen.

Felaheen? The peasant class, the oafish subjects of the (great!) Ottoman empire and the Mamluks before them, and empires before that. The people who now occupy the land around the pyramids and whose descendant generations have lived here for thousands of years. Cairo started as a labor camp for building the pyramids.

Some of the poor are still known as the Felaheen, and you can see that they still retain many of the same worker-drone characteristics to this day. Big hands, stout, oddly shaped men, round women, quick and stupid tempers, guile and dishonesty - all a mix of Africa and the Middle East.

Arab, but Egyptian Arab. Not as clever as the Levantines, not as fervantly ignorant as the Gulf Arabs. Thick, expendable drones, in a hive of 17 million.

Most disappointingly, they lack their own cuisine, stealing from Turkish and Lebanese.. "They eat - but only to fight off death" said a good friend to me once. He's right. On the bright side, tea is everywhere, and costs 4 cents a glass, a falafel sandwich costs 8 cents. Yes, thank god for their plummeting economy, I can eat for cheap

These people tho. ..

--

Ahmed, our new friend, is under arrest. For walking with us without a permit. They put him in the back of a small van. I ask why they grabbed him

"He need Tourist-Leader permit for be with tourist" says the giant Felaheen asshole in horrible english. I reply in horrible Arabic.
"Huwa Sadiiki! Mish Tagen!"(he's my friend - not a businessman!" I say, desperately trying to remember any Arabic at all.

The other guards just look at us, stupid in their white uniforms, holding old Chinese AK-47s.
The 2 hilarious french guys with us just keep smoking.

The huge, pot bellied Felaheen captain pulls out his gun for us, and shows us the bullets are real. Why do most Egyptian men have those god-damned potbellies? For a starving country, everyone is so fucking fat.

He makes a popping noise witjh his mouth, as if to simulate the sound of gunfire. He then smiles through his ridiculous sunglasses. We stare at him, unimpressed.

They just wanted a bribe.

--

Yes, I've never met such a wildly dishonest people before in my life - these people have tried to take me for money or worse at least - I'm not exaggerating - 4/5 times in every interaction I have had with them. I pray it is just the tourist area that I
am temporarily in, and I miss the cool-hearted and sophisticated East Asians deeply.

Lord, these people - they make my Ottoman blood boil.
Insolence!
And my Southern USA blood is telling me to call in airstrikes.

Maybe I will get a ticket back to Thailand.

--

do i have the right to be so annoyed by
these people?

am I misinterpreting something?

is this culture shock?
if so, why didnt I feel it in Thailand, Myanmar, or Vietnam?
its 2003. culture shock isnt an excuse anymore.
or is it exactly what defines 2001-2003?
this is why im here right -
this is the work.
to understand these people.

but -
why am i asking you people?

--

Islamic Cairo - Old Cairo

Stray cats and winding, impossible streets. Slums built on buildings 800 years old. beautiful buildings. the entire area has been declared a UNESCO world heritage site. UNESCO sites are supposed to be quiet, solemn, holy. This one is still alive. Pepsi cans are everywhere among the ruins. A little kids in a school uniform peed from the old fortress wall.

Donkey carts vie with vespas for the space around a truck from which a man is screaming at another man whose vegetable cart he bumped into. No damage, but It seems like they like the sport of it.

I'm learning. The sport of it - they are not angry - it is a ritual. They are saving face. I'm beginning to understand. In Thailand, you don't make a peep. When a white guy gets knocked into a truck on his motorbike, you pretend that it isn't happening. Here - here its the opposite - you Must make a peep about everything, or you lose face.

Children are saying hello to me everywhere. Unlike near the tourist attractions, they don't want money. I buy a kid some sugar cane juice for his outstanding farting noises. I buy some bread. Some young people practice their English on us. The roads, the buildings, the alleys, they are swollen with people, choked by exhaust. Flies whip through clouds of dust, a young girl sits among old tires and eats grapes, offering some to me as I walk by with her small hand.

Her hand is so clean.
Her uniform is so white.

Deisel smoke curls around us,

and I am somewhere else.

--