Sean Jacobs's Blog, page 685

The Soundtrack of the Revolution

By Sophia Azeb

Egyptians once led the Arab world in terms of literature, music and film, but Hosni Mubarak's regime significantly hampered the will and pride of the people in their own culture. This sense of disempowerment had ultimately been exemplified by the relative lack of active struggle against Mubarak–something Nawal el Saadawi mentions here.

Since January 25th, however, Egyptians–once referred to as apathetic by outside observers now awed by the revolution–are utilizing culture, primarily music and dance, to sustain their revolution and inspire one another to stay strong.

A few days ago, I heard Abdel Halim Hafez's "El Watan el Akbar" (The Greatest Nation) piped through the speakers in Meydan Tahrir while watching Al Jazeera. Abdel Halim, commonly referred to as "The Son of the Revolution," is adored by Egyptians of all ages. This song, a celebration of Nasser's Egypt and anthem of pan-Arab independence, opens with the main chorus: "My country, my beloved/ The greatest nation/Its triumphs fills its existence/ Each day its glories grow/ My nation grows and is liberated."

Egyptian-born singer Dalida's, "Halwa Ya Baladi" (My Beautiful Country) inspired an impromptu dance in Meydan Tahrir, the sort of which have become a lifeline to Egyptians like me, who are watching the revolution with great pride, hope and anxiety from outside Egypt. It is no longer a song I associate only with the victories of the Egyptian national football team, previously the only occasions in which Egyptians felt able to take pride in their nation.

Still, with all the patriotic anthems produced by the immortal and beloved artists of Nasser-era Egypt, anti-Mubarak protest chants have inspired the everyday people on the streets of Egypt to make their own music. One such song has gone viral (this video provides an English translation) – I've heard it sung at solidarity rallies in both New York City and Toronto since the revolution began.

A young boy, inspired by the Hosni's gone mad! songs, beautifully shares his own version with a crowd in Meydan Tahrir. Any fan of the classic Egyptian singers and actors– Um Kulthum, Abdel Halim Hafez, Omar Sharif and the like – is likely to laugh or cry (or both) at this child's heartfelt imitation of 1950's-era Egyptian 'gestures of love'.  He is also clearly familiar with the old political comedies from the 1970's that my generation grew up with. Likewise, the sheer joy of the audience following this woman's protest song is delightful.

Of course, the song most important, most inspiring, and most trasured by Egyptians in Egypt and around the world in this moment? Our national anthem.

* Sophia Azeb is a graduate student and instructor in African & African American Studies at SUNY-Buffalo. You can follow her on Twitter.

The Real Housewives of Cairo

The Egyptian revolution faces a terrible crisis in the U.S. media: it does not understand how to be a good reality show. It was exciting when it broke out and roses were handed out to twitter and facebook, the key front-runners in who was to woo the world. It got mildly more interesting when Anderson Cooper was slapped by a random person—bitch slaps always enliven reality shows. The sight of hot Egyptian men and the looting of museums has provided some narrative relief.

But now. Tanks. Blood. People milling around. And a Hosni Mubarak who will not go.

It's as though we are stuck in one of those interminable pauses reality shows call "suspense." We are becoming restless. We want "action" and "action now."

In truth, revolutions do not lend themselves to good reality tv.

Oh, they have the initial drama, the learning of new names, the appearance of new faces, the heart-stopping conflicts. But, unlike reality tv, we don't get to enjoy long commercial breaks—unless snow comes down and power goes off. We don't get a week off. And, as clever as we can be, we don't get to label 6-8 discrete individuals with cute, zany, or interesting nicknames (Sianne Ngai's categories). There are too many people. And not all of them are hot Egyptian men.

Pictures of "courage" sound better than they look, and intrepid U.S. reporters trying to get in the "thick of the action" risk being slapped, their petty resentments spilling over into petulance: "I was just trying to do my job, to "inform" the U.S. How dare they not respect that? How dare they restrict my freedom?" Anderson Cooper, the world's reality tv host, has discovered a space that will not pause for him to perform care.

I am struck by how many people—close and distant—describe the revolution as a "spectacle," as something "unprecedented," something being "avidly watched," registering interest and distance simultaneously. I am fascinated by how the genre of reality tv shows marks the rhetoric around Egypt—not simply who will win, but which new scandal will be unearthed to keep interest going. Even as I participate in it myself.

As irreverent as this post might be, I want to suggest something of my discomfort around the many calls for easy resolutions, to suggest there is something unnerving about journalistic and diplomatic calls for "quick" resolutions, to ask how what feels like our increasing boredom is dangerous for political work.

Let me be clear: lives and bodies are on the line. The blood we see is real blood. The bodies we see (when we do) are real bodies. I am not invested in revolutionary snuff films.

From the African side, the calls for resolution come from advocates of the most undemocratic compromise ever devised: power-sharing. I'm sure [former Kenyan life-president, Daniel Arap] Moi wishes he had thought of it—then we would have been stuck with a Moi-Kibaki team. It is easy for African dicta-leaders to cheer when Fox News shifts Egypt from the continent, precisely because it becomes possible to resist the acts of introspection that should be happening about the future of African leadership. But this is another topic.

Riveted by the possibility of spectacle, we are scrambling for new sites of conflict, asking whether there will be "surprise" entrants into this particular show. And if they don't show up, we want to know why.

Who will win this particular reality show? Which country will get roses for being the most dynamic, exciting, suspense-filled spectacle on this side of reality? Will it be Egypt? Tunisia? Jordan? Yemen? Will Saudi Arabia make a surprise entrance? Who will get the final rose, carried on a velvet cushion by a beaming Anderson Cooper?

Gukira.

'Who's in Control'

It must be the moment. British band British Sea Power's anti-privatization pop song, "Who's in Control."

Oh, were you not told

Do you not know

Everything around you is being sold

Do you not care

Will you not bear

Everybody else is going spare

What's yours and mine

Hers, his escape you all the time

Sometimes I wish

Protesting was sexy on a Saturday night

Tahrir Square

These striking images of protesters on Tahrir Square in Cairo on February 1 was shot by British filmmaker Oliver Wilkins, a Cairo resident for the last 12 years.

Backstory.

'If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next'

"… The United States and leading European nations on Saturday threw their weight behind Egypt's vice president, Omar Suleiman, backing his attempt to defuse a popular uprising without immediately removing President Hosni Mubarak from power."

Source.

The Egyptian people did not get the memo. They must be listening to the Manic Street Preachers.

Music Break

Cape Town/Atlanta singer Lindiwe Suttle and Abbot Network, performing "Sweet like Butta," for the online Taxijam series. (BTW, we've featured Suttle on AIAC before.)

Deep Roots Malawi

Gasper Nali is one of the musicians featured in the 2009 Deep Roots Malawi documentary. I haven't seen the documentary yet (and I'm sure it could do without the dubious 'heart of Africa', 'undiscovered' and 'lost heritage') but Nkhata Bay sure sounds attractive. Especially on a Sunday afternoon. H/T: Bart Deweer – Tom Devriendt

Found Objects, Item No.9

"Running Cola is Africa!" (1968), a black and white plotter drawing by Masao Kohmura, Koji Fujino, Makoto Ohtake. "A computer algorithm converts a running man into a bottle of cola, which in turn is converted into the map of Africa." The owners are the Sprengel Museum in Hannover, Germany.

Via compArt daDA.

* This is a continuation of the series of posts (at least eight deep) on this site titled "Sunday Ephemera". It will still be on Sundays. The only difference is the title has changed. It's about old stuff. Serious.

The Public Archive, Item No.9

"Running Cola is Africa!" (1968), a black and white plotter drawing by Masao Kohmura, Koji Fujino, Makoto Ohtake. "A computer algorithm converts a running man into a bottle of cola, which in turn is converted into the map of Africa." The owners are the Sprengel Museum in Hannover, Germany.

Via compArt daDA.

* This is a continuation of the series of posts (at least eight deep) on this site titled "Sunday Ephemera". It will still be on Sundays. The only difference is the title has changed. It's about old stuff. Serious.

Cairo, City of Clay

A graphic novel probably doesn't come more timely than Dutch comic artist Milan Hulsing's City of Clay ("Stad van Klei"):

The book follows the misadventures of civil servant Salem and his descent into madness when he starts labouring on an elaborate scheme that involves the creation of an entire imaginary town and its police force. While personally collecting the invented town's security budget, Salem finds himself forced to write an endless amount of believable police reports in order to keep the invented town off the radar of his superiors. For this he starts to obsessively build a clay model of the town and its citizens in his own living room. Soon the imaginary and the real world fold into one when the town starts to reflect Egypt's corrupt and bureaucratic reality against Salem's will. Instead of earning Salem bonuses, the police force is cracking down on self inflicted security problems. Salem finds himself victimized by the merciless and corrupt police inspector he himself created.

Milan Hulsing has been living and drawing in Cairo for some years now. City of Clay is based on Mohamed El-Bisatie's novel Over the Bridge, "a compelling allegory about power and its abuse" in which "the bureaucrat's elaborate illusion begins, gradually but relentlessly, to take on a reality and momentum of its own and, by the conclusion of the tale, reveals itself as having contained the seeds of its creators demise."

About the state of graphic novels in Egypt, Hulsing says that "… (s)omething is moving: you'll find more and more graphic novels on the bookstore's shelves. And a group of comic artists recently also launched a new comic magazine. It's alive." (Interview in Dutch.)

- Tom Devriendt