I was almost apprehended by two plain-clothes officers in the middle of Tahrir Square, the now famous epicenter of the Egyptian popular revolts, one early afternoon last February. The cause of suspicion was that I was leaning against one of the railings that line the sidewalk with my backpack lying at my feet. This, including the claim that an important government minister was apparently being driven through the area, was reason enough to interrogate me on the spot in front of hundreds of Egyptians. The two officers stood on either side of me to prevent any possible escape. Not that I was considering running away. Generally fleeing from authority confirms guilt, plus there could have been five other undercover officers waiting for me at the end of the block.
“Bata’tak” (your id), one of them demanded. I wanted to ask for his first but, unlike back home in America, plainclothes officers in Egypt are not required to present their identification. Not that it mattered as I knew right away who they were. Both were wearing conspicuous leather jackets, the standard Egyptian police thug apparel. Trying to maintain my composure, I smoothly handed over my United States passport. The older and no doubt senior officer glanced over it with suspicion, as I was dark enough to pass for a regular Egyptian.
“American?”
“Yes”, I replied. Got it in one.
He then starting slowly flipping through the mostly empty pages of my passport (I had recently gotten a new one a few months before I arrived), as if biding time just to inconvenience me. The other officer simply stared at me in silence. All the while people were walking by, staring a bit, but then quickly looking away as if ashamed. A few of them looked at me with what appeared to be utter sympathy, but then they carried on. The shame of being publicly humiliated was almost worse than the prospect of interrogation in some dirty, dank basement room in the Mogamma building.
“What your business in Egypt?”
“I am a student learning Arabic here”, I replied coolly.
The officer stood in silence. Clearly his English language comprehension was limited. I pointed in the direction of the American University, whose downtown campus was thankfully right around the corner. “AUC”, I said. “Student.” That response seemed to suffice, although I’m sure the officers were disappointed that they couldn’t harass me more, or better yet hit me with a baton.
No doubt my experience was tame compared to what befalls countless normal Egyptian citizens on a regular basis. I was fortunate enough to have my passport and a convincing command of English. Needless to say most Egyptians are not so lucky to have a safety net when confronted by the Mukhabarat (the general Arabic term for secret police).
The point of my little story is that such experiences are a part of living in Cairo for millions of Egyptians. Indeed such instances are a reflection of the regime’s security apparatus that is in charge of maintaining “public order”, usually in the form of violent intimidation and arbitrary arrest and interrogation. Anyone can be stopped for any reason, even the most mundane such as standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Coupled with this is the reality that the Mukhabarat is often above the law, rarely being held accountable for their actions. In some controversial cases, such as the horrific public murder of Khalid Said in Alexandria, the officers in question are ‘tried’ but then quickly released with often nothing more than a slap on the wrist. In this culture of impunity, ordinary citizens live in fear of the Law. This fear has been broken as a result of the revolts that resulted in Mubarak’s reluctant resignation. Nevertheless, it remains to be seen what the future is for this deeply entrenched pillar of the regime.
Strangely enough I couldn’t even recall why I was standing in Tahrir square to begin with. But one thing I do remember all too well. As the officers were leaving, the one that took my passport took a few steps, turned around and smiled and said in English, “Welcome to Egypt”.
1 comment:
It's really good to hear your perspective and to read back on your posts from a couple of years ago too. I lived in Morocco for a couple of years and had some similar experiences although it is not quite as complicated as in Egypt. Just different because it's a kingdom and they worship the King there. I found that very disconcerting. We could have long talk about all this. I found it fascinating to learn about the culture from the inside, living with a Moroccan family. Keep writing about this. It's important. You write very well.
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