Sunday, 23 February 2014
GOING DOWN
A friend has just bought a pair of these cute panties to taunt her boyfriend - an ardent activist who flinches every time el-Sissi is mentioned - two of his mates are somewhere in a Cairo prison, no one knows where, and are about to be charged with assisting 'terrorists' - ie looking at a person with a beard. And if that's not enough, his girlfriend's walking around with another man's face on her fun-zone.
I warned her that the el-Sissi knickers would not go down well in the bedroom, and she replied that they would go down faster than a protester hit by a police sniper, and this was why she was wearing them. It struck me as an inappropriate simile but this is how it is in Egypt these days. Humour is the antidote to reality. There's a limit to the number of stories of young people being tear gased and roasted alive in police vans, torture, cooked up charges, beaten, kicked, shot that can be listened to without either bursting into tears, overdosing, or laughing.
The knickers are Ecstasisi gone mad. They are selling well. El-Sissi is reaching the parts he never thought he would. Knowing how jealous and possessive Egyptian men can be, I'm hoping this will turn the tide of el-Sissi mania. The Lion King may have saved the country from gathering Islamist hoards, but does he have the right to have his face in the crotch of Egyptian womanhood? If this continues, votes are more likely to go to some secular wimp than to the guy who's on, and by implication, in your wife's panties.
It's a turn off in more ways than one. This is the man who sanctioned the humiliating removal of the panties of jailed women protesters to enable a search for intact hymens. If it's broken, eureka!, you are a bad woman, and deserve the charges. This alone, should be a no vote, let alone everything else.
Thursday, 20 February 2014
SADAAM AND BUBBLES
Someone
has just given me a copy of Field Marshall el-Sissi's identity card, and in the ladies
section of the tram in Alexandria today, a small boy was selling fake
100 LE notes with guess-who on them. There are el-Sissi watches as well,
and plates. You name it, el-Sisi has got his mug on it, even chocolate. It reminds me
of Sadaam Hussein, who favoured clock faces and plates. He even managed to have his face printed on the bars of
soap at a hotel I stayed at in Baghdad. Maybe because he was leader of the Ba'th party. It wasn't much fun having a
shower with Sadaam - dictator's can be slippery and he kept blowing bubbles.
SUNGLASSES AND DICTATORS
I
used to go to a spa in Amsterdam where it was common for men and women to
swim, sauna, steam, and relax together naked.
It reflected the healthy, non-prurient attitude the Dutch have to nudity.
Nobody stared or leered and I soon got into the swing of things.
The only person who made me
feel uneasy was the guy in sunglasses. You couldn’t see where he was looking, but I was damn sure it wasn't the trees. He also
kept a towel over his dick. Women complained
and he was eventually asked to
leave. It’s a pity the world’s dictators
cannot be asked to do the same. Sun
glasses are their nod to style and authoritarian rule. The thugocracy love to
stare out at their starving masses from behind mega-dollar frames. If they hide their
eyes, they think we won’t see the torture chambers.
Libya’s Munama Gaddafi liked to
hide his cosmetically enhanced
eyes with a frameless J-lo style and was rarely seen without them. I gather he wasn't wearing them when he was found hiding in a hole, probably because his dictatorial game was over and he didn't need them in the dark. Zimbabwe’s little
treasure, Robert Mugabe, favours gold
rimmed sunglasses that tilt to the side, giving him a slight Dame Edna
Everidge look. He’s the monster who
sanctioned military violence and ordered his opponent’s wife to be burned
alive.
One
of the most iconic shades-wearing dictators in history, North Korea’s Kim Jong
Il, left a legacy of desperate, starving citizens, horrific work camps, hundreds of thousands of political prisoners and a huge number of sunglasses
to his son, Kim Jong Un.
Clip-on
shades rimmed in gold bling were favoured by Togo’s Gnassingbe Eyadema. He ruled
for 38 years, winning numerous
uncontested elections and rigging the rest. He had an entourage of 1,000 dancing women who sang
and danced in praise of him; portraits of his ugly mug were everywhere and $20 wrist watches with his portrait, were available to the few Togolese who could
afford them.
Sudan's Bashir prefers to tease with a glimpse of his eyes behind round gold-rimmed glasses that darken in sunlight. He likes them to slip down his nose at conferences to give him a more intellectual air. More hard-line shades are worn when he's going for the tough-guy look in his bully-boy military uniforms. He's the man behind the horrors of Darfur.
Sudan's Bashir prefers to tease with a glimpse of his eyes behind round gold-rimmed glasses that darken in sunlight. He likes them to slip down his nose at conferences to give him a more intellectual air. More hard-line shades are worn when he's going for the tough-guy look in his bully-boy military uniforms. He's the man behind the horrors of Darfur.
Augusto Pinochet, Chile’s dictator proved that a good pair of sunglass is the making of a dictator. He hid behind them throughout his 17 years of political genocide. Thousands of his opponents disappeared and have never been seen again.
Sadaam Hussein’s wife went shopping for her husband’s shades in Europe’s top designer stores. Interesting to note the former Iraqi dictator wasn’t wearing the latest designer shades for his six foot drop. As with Gaddafi, and Pinochet during his arrest in London, the shades leave when their wearers fall and all that remains are old men blinking at the light.
Hosni Mubarak’s sartorial elegance was topped by to-die-for
shades and he’s even appeared in court
behind bars wearing them, which begs the
question, does he sleep in them? It's a sign that he still thinks he is Egypt’s dictator, and the way things are going,
there could be a horrible truth in this.
The eyes are the
window to the soul, and any attempt to
hide them merely makes the person appear soul-less. You can peer out at the world from behind
them, but the world can’t see the truth of you. If you know you have something
to hide, why not hide it?
A man who is hiding plenty, (including activists and journalists in his jails), is Egypt's president, Abdel Fattah
el-Sissi. He's as shady as you can get. He likes to match his with military bling and tailored suits. Media shots
show that, like Mubarak, he prefers to hide behind tinted glass, even when indoors. When he
delivered his coup speech to Egypt, on July 24 2013, he was wearing sunglasses. He called for new protests and for the
Egyptian people to give the military a mandate to fight "terrorism." Noone saw the gleam in his eye. The Muslim Brotherhood
was toppled, and the shades moved in.
Since then Al-Sisi's one-man-band has given itself unchecked powers to
combat ‘terrorism’, torture the
opposition, manacle the press, sink the economy, This is
very worrying, but what worries me more are
the Ray-Bans.
Saturday, 15 February 2014
MRS EL-SISSI
I understand Field Marshall el-Sissi
has a wife. I don’t know anyone who has met her, and I cant find any
photographs of her. Several google searches have revealed very little. Elshaab on-line says her name is Nihad Nour. Reuters say she
wears the niqab, while others say she wears the hijab. One report says she is a best mate to Suzanne Mubarak, who introduced her to el-Sissi, and another says she comes from a wealthy family - and that a brother, Tareq, owns TV channels, night clubs, businesses and had links with Tamarod. It really should be a
case of who cares? But when it comes to
a prospective president's wife, people do, and it matters.
“If el-Sissi runs for
president, I wont vote for him, purely
because we will never see his wife,” says my friend Karim, a lawyer. “I want
Egypt to be seen as a modern state, with
an active, visible First Lady, like Queen Rania of Jordan. We need to show we are
living in the 21st century.”
Another friend, Yasmina, says,
“Forget First Ladies', I want a female president,” but knows, with a sigh, that at this stage of the gender
game, it’s not even worth bitching
about.
Karim might have to wait a
while for a sexy, smart highly visible First Lady who juggles her own life, with
that of being a head of state’s missus. Egypt has become a deeply conservative society,
and the only thing that matters is that
el-Sissi has a wife. A visible,
working wife, might lose him votes from his more conservative backers . In
Egypt , most women give up their jobs once
they are married, (if they have one) and hunker down to have babies, put on weight
and get bored out of their atrophying brains - much like UK’s valium popping housewives of the fifties.
Mrs Nagla Ali Mahmoud, 51, is the wife of
deposed ex-president Morsy. As his wife, her duty was to provide a prime
example for her fellow Muslim Brotherhood
sisters. Covered in what looks like a
large duster that reveals only her face, Mrs. Mahmoud, from a poor village background,
is so ordinary by contemporary Egyptian standards as to make her elevation
extraordinary. Mrs. Mahmoud could hardly be more different from her
predecessors, Suzanne Mubarak and Jihan el-Sadat, both glamourous, half-British
and highly educated.
During
the time of her husband’s presidency, Mrs Morsi preferred to be known as Umm
Ahmed (Mother of Ahmed, her eldest son), and devoted herself to looking after her husband and children
behind palace doors. She was a woman who looked and lived like most people’s
sisters and mothers and for many, made a refreshing change from the up-front,
glamorous Suzanne Mubarak, with whom they could not identify. But to the westernized elite, she stood for a backwardness and a provincialism which it saw as typical of the
Muslim Brotherhood. A column in the newspaper, El Fagr asked incredulously: “How
could she receive world leaders and still adhere to her traditional Islamic
standards of modesty? “Don’t look at her. Don’t shake hands with her,” the
paper suggested, calling it a “comic scenario.”
She was reported as saying that if she tried to
play an active role, she risked comparisons with Mrs. Mubarak, who was widely
despised for her supposed influence behind the scenes. But if Mrs. Morsi is
invisible, she said, “They will say that Mohamed Morsi is hiding his wife
because this is how Islamists think.”
Given
Egypt’s patriarchal culture - men seldom talk publicly of their wives,
and mentioning them by name is a taboo for Islamists – it is unlikely Morsi’s
missus would ever have been shoved onto the podium beside him, whether she liked
it or not. She only became visible when
her husband was forced to stand down and was marched off to prison. Like a tragic heroine in a Greek
play, she stepped out of her confinement to plead for the release of her husband from his.
As a small girl I can remember watching Jehan Sadat on the television, with
her husband President Anwar Sadat. She beamed intelligence, and of course, was
very beautiful. Today , she is known internationally as a lecturer, educator and social activist
promoting international peace and women's education. She contributed to the image of Egypt and the Arab world in
her own unique way. In the 70’s while the world’s media obsessed over Mrs
Sadat’s wardrobe, her hair etc., she got on with playing
a key role in reforming Egypt's civil rights laws. Often called ‘Jehan’s Laws’
the new statutes granted women a variety
of new rights, including those to alimony and custody of children in the event
of divorce. I remember her as a breath of fresh air blowing through Middle Eastern politics. She was evidence of a secular liberalism that flourished for a while in Egypt but like, Islamism, never took root in mainstream politics.
Queen Rania of Jordan has followed on in this
tradition, and focused on education and
health, community empowerment, and cross cultural and inter faith dialogue. She
is genuinely loved and respected by Jordanians, and represents a society that
is seen as progressive and outward looking, partly because of her dynamic visibility.
Egypt desperately needs its own Queen Rania,
or another Jehan (with or without hijab) if it is to take its standing in the world and develop
social activism for educational and health reforms that will benefit everyone. First Ladies have access
to a network of powerful elite, funding, sponsorship, business networks, expertise that
can benefit their countries.
First Ladies can also be bitches from hell, endorsing their husbands' butchery. Take Asma al-Assad, stylish wife of Syrian President, Bashar al-Assad.A former investment banker, she has stood by her husband enjoying the fruits of his billion dollar fortune rifled from the country. Between them they are a dynamic duo of destruction. Her mega spending sprees and recently posted instagram pictures of her charity work are a heartless endorsement of her beloved's razing of the country and the murder of its children with chemical weapons.
First Ladies can also be bitches from hell, endorsing their husbands' butchery. Take Asma al-Assad, stylish wife of Syrian President, Bashar al-Assad.A former investment banker, she has stood by her husband enjoying the fruits of his billion dollar fortune rifled from the country. Between them they are a dynamic duo of destruction. Her mega spending sprees and recently posted instagram pictures of her charity work are a heartless endorsement of her beloved's razing of the country and the murder of its children with chemical weapons.
With no sighting so far of Nihad Nour, and barely a mention of her in the media, el-Sissi is going to have to bring his missus out of the closet soon, or tongues will start to wag. Last year, Egyptians politely ignored pictures in which he appeared to enjoy being drooled over by a clutch of actresses at the October 6 celebrations. I wondered if Nahid Nour was watching it all on the television, and what the hell did she feel about it? Nobody seemed interested enough to talk about it, even though her connections have played an important role in her husband's stellar rise. Do Egyptians really not want to know who might become the power behind the throne and a cheerleader of goodness knows what is to come?
The election of el-Sissi as president, will be a misguided response to the security and
stability Egypt is gasping for, and will reinforce the message of the Muslim Brotherhood that the military
purports to despise - that Egyptian women must be neither seen nor
heard.
Friday, 14 February 2014
OPEN SCREEN - EL GAMALAYA
The boys bunch in the dark, shift on threaded palm and stones,
a cigarette passes from one small hand to another,
a banding together of fingers around fire and ash -
affirmation of a tribal pact, rodent eyes veiled in smoke.
A voice calls. "Put that cigarette out!” They sulk, tilt on chairs,
cartwheel a dog-end into jasmine, snarl at the film,
then rise, faces caught in the flickering light, old and shuttered,
balanced on frail, birds’ cages. They are a feral pack leaving,
moving as one, a hunch of waves turning. In the street,
they straighten, lords of a famished kingdom, kicking cats.
More of my poetry can be read on http://www.odyssey.com, http://www.chanticleer-press.com/, http://www.vivimusmag.com/poetry.html
Saturday, 1 February 2014
FALLING ONTO ALEXANDRIA
I hover above the city, wingless,
every bone as thin as string,
taut as an horizon. Below -
a crumbling labyrinth of catacombs,
streets of fading Greek and French,
a Jew hobbling, the scent of sea,
brickdust rising in a desert wind.
I was there once, earthbound,taut as an horizon. Below -
a crumbling labyrinth of catacombs,
streets of fading Greek and French,
a Jew hobbling, the scent of sea,
brickdust rising in a desert wind.
rooted in your hand, tamed by crumbs,
shedding songs for you of love
and distant lands. I curved my eyes
around your limbs, your kisses lay
like prayer beads on my skin.
You were my spell, my augury of loss.
In a lens of refracted light beyond sight,
I see your heart, a bruise, incurable,
never hushed, tucked inside you,
a knife in a sheath, ticking as you
stalk the streets - a skilfully
moving dream hunting sex.
You watched me once - a scandalous
leaving - sifting through the slats of
shutters, floating from the terrace,
my backward glance, a broken arrow.
One day I’ll return: a windblown hag
falling from the sky, an aborted planet,
landing where the bay curves and
the candy floss seller blows his horn.
You won’t know me.
.
More of my poetry can be read on http://www.odyssey.com, http://www.chanticleer-press.com/, http://www.vivimusmag.com/poetry.html
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