“Egypt before the Revolution”: Per Munther’s Leica

Cairo, 15 January 1850

[…] Here we are then, in Egypt, the land of the Pharoahs, the land of the Ptolemies, the kingdom of Cleopatra (as they say in the grand style). Here we are, and here we abide, with our heads shaven as clean as your knee, smoking long pipes and drinking our coffee lying on divans. What can I say? How can I write to you about it? I have scarcely recovered from my initial astonishment.

 

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Cover Art for FLICK, the Cairo International Film Festival 2014 Bulletin, Issues #1-10

DRY NILE SONG

Sing, Adaweyah! of the microbus’s wrath

That, rattling death and venom-fuming, a demented sphinx,

Carves through the flesh of traffic like missilery,

And brings car-owning Pasha to his knee.

Sing of the asphalt urchin, creature of the dust

Who in its smoggy wake performs noir rites;

His muffled yelps, as pædocock stretches his child’s asshole,

Transforming into clouds.

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RC: A Story in Tweets

Baba shows up the night Murad’s body arrives. It’s revolution day, he says. How come you’re not celebrating? Ghosts are funny that way.

Murad came back in two packages. He was hit in the neck, they said. The squall of ammo was such the head wouldn’t stay in place.

After Mama was hauled to Tante Loulou’s I arranged him on a mattress in the living room, then I sat thinking how he hated the army.

I’d hated it too, twelve years before. Even though at that time conscripts weren’t being screwed. But to be in the barracks on July 23…

The Gunmen had timed it to make a point. The army is the state is the infidels is the enemy, they believe. And July 23, 1952? A coup.

It’s the coup you call R that WE call bloody C. How about everyone just calls it RC, I was thinking. Then I remembered.

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Hoarseness: A Legend of Contemporary Cairo

The White Review

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U. Mubarak

It kind of grows out of traffic. The staccato hiss of an exhaust pipe begins to sound like record scratching. Skidding and braking, the vehicles resume their car horn concerto. Braying, bawling, crashing, farting, fortissimo hustling cut in. Then comes the imperious vroom of a makana – the Arabic corruption of the Italian word for ‘machine’ – as a motorcycle is called on the streets of Cairo…

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Jassmi, Take Three

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When a UAE-based Palestinian friend sends me a link to the Emirati singer Hussein Al-Jassmi’s hit Boshret khair (or “Good Tidings”), I wonder what she finds remarkable about the video. After Tesslam el ayadi (or “Saved be the hands”), Boshret khair — written by the mainstream lyricist Ayman Bahgat Qamar and composed by the notoriously anti-“revolution”, conspiracy-theorising musician Amr Mustafa — is the second and by far the more tasteful anthem of 30 June-3 July 2013. Its aim is to encourage a high turnout in the presidential elections, to bolster up the legitimacy of the current democratic process.

Quoting the lyrics, “Don’t begrudge [Egypt] your vote,” my friend turns out to be taken with the irony of Egyptians being urged onto the ballots by a citizen in a country where no voting is allowed whatsoever. She seems to find dark humour in the fact.

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RT @sultans_seal: Tweets through a glass pane

@Sultans_Seal

rakha_youssef_ 3

If not being allowed to have strong opinions is not I’m not sure what is

Western outrage at ‘s treatment of continues to shock and awe me. Where do you get off, people?

People who see the west as an end in itself are the mirror image of people who see it as the source of all evil

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