Tahrir Square, Cairo, Egypt

Cairo, Egypt

Flying home business class on an emergency flight from Cairo to Istanbul, I met a middle-aged German gentleman who had arrived in Cairo to run an annual marathon. We had been among the final 10 people allowed to board the flight out of an increasingly hectic, violent, and dangerous Cairo where the news of the day was that the Egyptian minister in charge of security forces, rashly motivated, opened the prisons sending potentially thousands of criminals onto the streets. While my friends and I hadn’t had access to the Internet and therefore any useful news for the last few days, the sporadic waves of information we did acquire every so often were shrouded in layers of bewilderment, mystery, and anticipation. The night before, I woke up every now and again to the crack of gunfire in the distance. Neighborhoods had apparently organized their own security forces in the absence of the police and were firing warning shots as part of a method of organization and warning. My friend and I had gone out the evening before to grab a bite to eat at an open stand not far from the apartment. Men and women carrying sticks and pointed objects in order to protect their businesses from potential looters met us with peaceful smiles but the weapons in hand sent a different message. The anxiety flooding Cairo was palpable.

As we marveled over the luxuries of Turkish Airlines business class (where we were ironically placed as the final people to board) – the spacious leg room, HD televisions in the head-rests, uniquely-packaged magazines, and the electronic seat adjusters – my German friend joked that we ought to find another country on the verge of political collapse and catch a flight out of there. Perhaps we’d nail another pair of business-class plane tickets. He mentioned Sudan. I smiled the best I could in quiet agreement.

What we both found less funny, and in fact appalling, was the way in which the waning Mubarak regime had deliberately contributed to the chaos Cairo now finds itself. The President’s refusal to step down and the liquidation of the prison system only meant more anger fueled by fear. But I realized that such brutality only scratches the surface for the Egyptian people – a population that has suffered brutal repression and a severe lack of opportunity for decades. I learned what it must be like to be Egyptian, and witnessed the pain of living under such repression bubble up and spill over as a young but sizeable movement of men and women assembled in the streets.

Having had studied the Muslim Brotherhood, regarded as the largest and most influential opposition movement in Egypt, I was interested to hear mostly secular chants from the throngs of demonstrators in Tahrir Square. “God is Great!” was chanted sparingly relative to simple albeit passionate declarations of freedom and disdain for Mubarak’s thirty-year reign. While it’s impossible to assign a leader to the movement (it seems Twitter and text messaging played a significant role) it seems to me that the demonstrations were student-led. I noticed one sign advertising the secular Wafd party, but that was one amongst hundreds that crossed my sights.

One demonstrator on the morning of the 28th, his face blackened with soot, wearing an Egyptian flag on his back, the side of his head bandaged tightly, was distributing pink carnations to soldiers in tanks who had moved into Tahrir in the early morning hours. Tear gas still wafted through the air as a reminder of what had transpired the night before. The military presence seemed a reassurance for the demonstrators who met them with bread and juice handouts in a deeply moving display of gratitude and appreciation. The gatherings evoked feelings of patriotism and of victory, at least for the time being. Police forces were driven out of the city, first by protestors and later by the military, and the gigantic National Democratic Party headquarters – a symbol of tyranny – burned in the background. The military stood idly by, and the people marched.

Small albeit violent skirmishes between lingering police and the demonstrators persisted. Rumors circulated that live fire was being used against demonstrators, and between the military and the police. The maze of allegiances wasn’t easy to comprehend. The military seamlessly took to protecting the people from police oppression, including plain-clothed thugs apparently hired out for a few pounds a day to wield clubs and suppress dissidents. But my friend and I are wary of how long the collaboration between demonstrators and the military will last. Despite the cooperation, the idea of turmoil doesn’t seem too far-fetched, especially as the gap in political power and in civil organization deepens, and the streets become more lawless.

It will no doubt be interesting to see how Egypt withstands the chaos: who falls, who rises to power, and the political consequences of such a transition. Protests have ignited throughout the Arab world as calls for freedom grow more furiously. The example of Tunisia, and now Egypt, may have inspired the most downtrodden of the most repressed countries, and the global political results may prove momentous. Finally, with the Internet back at my disposal, I’m able to read what information the media has gathered. The Egyptian movement is anxiously waiting for the military to make a decisive decision: the people or Mubarak.

While exciting to watch history unfold before my eyes, I withstood not only the wonder and excitement of it all, but also the fear and uncertainty. I’m stuck in overdrive, having seen events I found poignant but also profoundly frightening. While hardly confronted with the prospect of getting seriously hurt, I would have like to stay in better contact with my poor parents. I’ve traversed a broad spectrum of emotions these past few days and despite the serene scene in Sultanahmet's very own Starbucks, I’m still in need of a catharsis. I’m anxious, but talking and writing about it is somewhat of an emotional outlet.

Peace

From Home to Home

I just got back to Istanbul having traveled to the States for 10 days to celebrate Christmas (a little late but Mom still had some Christmasy branches strewn across the dresser), catch up with close friends, and detox from a busy semester. It was a good break in preparation for a second semester of teaching and travel, and searching for jobs..

I felt as though I was in two places at once this time. Turkey has become normal to me, and I felt it especially as I walked around the Istanbul neighborhood of Besiktas just a few minutes ago. Such a brief trip to States in a way left me feeling like an overstimulated tourist. Maybe it's because my bedroom had vanished, and because I was living out of a suitcase, or because I was sucked into the exciting, amorphous lives of my family (Dad's just opened his third pizza restaurant!), or because I'm so used to being alone in Turkey. On the other hand, I'll miss those I spent time with even more now. I've sort of stimulated a sore, but that's a part of being away. I don't love my time in Turkey any less, that's for certain.

Tomorrow I leave the country again. In early February I'll return to Bilecik and get to work. To those of you whom I saw during my trip to the States, thank you. It was a wonderful pleasure seeing all of you. I just wish I could have you here!

Peace

Şanlıurfa, Turkey

Fi, Fie, Fo, Urfa

Yesterday's trip to Urfa was a highlight of my so-far fascinating four months here. Urfa, similarly to Gaziantep but in a more explicit capacity, stands in contrast to the Turkey's "European" north-east. While the cities of the north-east have adopted the trappings of Western architecture, design, and culture, the south/south-east remains very much steeped in the tradition of the Middle East. Urfa's open displays of religious piety, arabesque architecture, earth-toned city-scape, and general sense of gentility reminded me somewhat of small neighborhoods in Cairo.

Not-to-mention the religious significance as what seems to tie the Middle East together for me. The Holy Land (which I broadly understand as the places of Quaranic and Biblical tales) very much includes the southern portion of Turkey. Witnessing the alleged site of the birthplace of Abraham was a pleasant surprise, and Balikli Gol, where Nimrod threw Abraham into a fire, which was then turned into a pool of sacred fish, is beautifully situated between the Great Mosque of Urfa (once a church), and the marketplace of the old city. Job - my favorite religious-historical person - is also said to have been born here.

My friend and I walked the buzzzing streets of Urfa in between each azaan (call to prayer), encountering a whirlwind of heavily rhythmic music, the sweet yet mild aroma of elma shisha from the dozens of outdoor cafes populating the old city, and the allure of one of Turkey's greatest culinary achievement, freshly-baked kunefe. We took advantage of all there was to offer, and left the city full of food and contentment. It was a day I hope to remember for a long time. The layers of Urfa's history dazzle and enchant, and best came into view as we stood atop the Urfa Castle ruins gazing at Roman pillars from the 1st century, Urfa's Great Mosque, and the Turkish flag flapping in the wind. Wow - what a place.

Gaziantep in Early January

The ever-present diversity of Turkish society is a thing easily missed, but my journey to Gaziantep, to visit a close friend of mine in the program, revealed layers I've blithely ignored. Because my exposure to Turkey has been so stimulating, I've only adjusted to my region and a few choice places I find myself regularly visiting on the weekends. Istanbul, Bursa, Eskisehir, for example, top the list.

But as I walked through the streets of Gaziantep, a city to the south-east, near the Syrian border, I couldn't help but feel more foreign than I've felt in my 3-4 months here. At times, I felt more as though I were back in Cairo than anyplace I've been in Turkey. I described the difference as that between "day and night" - as a stark interlude between my time in Bilecik and my time in Istanbul. But I'm thrilled I've had (and continue to have) the opportunity to witness it.

The sky is wider here, and paler too, and the people resemble the subdued, vacant sky. It's mysterious to me, and I hope to get a better sense of the unknown in the next few days. The mosques I've noticed to be more diverse and intricate than those I've grown accustomed to in Bilecik, probably because of the Arab and the Persian influences that have swept through this area like turned pages in a history book.

Without going into too much detail, Gaziantep proudly stands up to its name as having the best food in Turkey. My visit to a famous eatery yesterday left me sublimely content. The baklava is what I'd expect to find in heaven - crunchy, sweet, delicate, and rich - and stood in contrast with the bitter air and the wary stares of city-dwellers.