Kalimat Magazine Winter 2012 - Issue 04 by Kalimat Magazine

Volume I • Issue 04 • Winter 2012

Kalimat is proud to call its Winter 2012 the Egyptian Design Issue. Check out the Art+Design section for more. TRANSIT FACILITIES IN THE ARAB LEAGUE Underground Metro

Rapid Bus Transit

Lightrail

Marine Port

Inland Waterway

Airport

Rail

Algeria Bahrain Comoros Djibouti Egypt Iraq Jordan Kuwait Lebanon Libya Mauritania Morocco Oman Palestine Qatar Saudi Arabia Somalia Sudan Syria Tunisia UAE Yemen

Operating

Planned

Light-rail includes trams, monorails, urban commuter rails.

Bus Rapid Transit refers to exclusive high capacity bus lanes.

Often light-rail systems transform into underground metro lines

Taxi, “share-taxi”, private vehicles and regular buses are common services, not depicted

Current Affairs Ali Suleiman takes a look at the Arab world’s transportation system and future planning. Page 28.

Culture Tasnim Qutait discusses the emergence of Libya’s revolutionary rap and hip hop scene. Page 54.

New Media Colouring nostalgia. Check out the continuation of the Sindibad colouring book. Page 150.

Kifak Inta?

Art + Design In Egypt, Sally El Sabbahy sits down with Shahira Fahmy, Mona Hussein, Dina El Khachab and Cherif Morsi to discuss the state of design. Page 92.

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EDITOR’S LETTER

It’s hard to believe that it has been a year since I first launched Kalimat in November 2010. A soft social media launch was followed by unbelievable moments in our history - when the actions of Mohamed Bouazizi changed the Arab world forever. That moment has given all of us hope and inspired many of us to take action. It also made me understand Kalimat’s purpose even more. The question that’s been popping up recently is what exactly is Kalimat? I like to answer with what would be considered one of those obnoxious Chuck Norris jokes, “You don’t get Kalimat, Kalimat gets you!” The idea is that you can choose to call Kalimat a journal, a magazine, a website, a resource, whatever you like, but the point is to enjoy the contents and use it as a tool. Kalimat works with all types of writers: professionals, amateurs and beginners from all sorts of backgrounds to feature tones as varied as Arabs themselves. That leads us to the second question: the content. Is it a design magazine featuring articles on politics in their Current Affairs section? The four broad dossiers are in place to avoid being boxed into one certain topic under the magazine rack. Personally, I like to read about everything, and I love to buy magazines that cover my wide range of interests. Design: magazines are vital examples of good publication design and this is where designers can get really creative. It’s not there to turn anyone off or scare them - better visuals help you process information in an easier way (think of infographics or transit maps). I am not a believer that only fashion, art, design and architecture magazines deserve nice layouts, everything does. In the last issue, I spoke about Kalimat moving into the education sector, specifically, media and design education. Our future plans include bringing together students, educators, professionals, entrepreneurs, businesses and just about anyone from any background committed to education, collaboration and pursuing new solutions to problems. Design is a powerful problem solving tool. Designers mediate across language barriers, clarifying messages using elements of design. This isn’t a thinking process saved solely for all fields of design, and it isn’t purely aesthetic, but it can be used in non-typical places for collaboration and to find creative solutions to social and political problems, policies, business practices, and more. Since the influence of the fields of design and media is largely ignored within education, our goal is to fill that void by developing curricula that will address this issue, training a new

generation of thinkers and leaders using design methodologies to make significant changes in their communities. Our current rigorous editing process with writers whose first language isn’t English is our first step in creating a system of constructive criticism and language building in order for them to develop the confidence and skills to share their stories in various outlets, not just in Kalimat Magazine. Media, like design, is a powerful tool for education. Our Egyptian Design issue is a great entry into my discussion here. Kalimat, in collaboration with Alchemy Design in Egypt, includes interviews, conversations and features on various Egyptian, Arab and international designers discussing the power of design, the cultural differences, stereotypes, the challenges and more. We’ve put together a fantastic and resourceful issue that touches on topics largely ignored and misunderstood in the region and amongst the diaspora - not only the different areas of design but also homosexuality, transportation, the state of science amongst others. Also in this issue, we’re presenting our first series of infographics that will help our readers better visualise the data included in some of the articles, and a conversation with two Syrian activists who were arrested during the uprising. I want to thank everyone for the wonderful support and feedback received this past year, we’re working on a printed edition, we swear! We still need your help with our surveys and donations. A big thank you to Ghada Ibrahim from Alchemy Cairo, without her passion, will and ideas, we would never have such a wonderful Egyptian design issue. I also want to thank Karim Mekhtigian from Alchemy Cairo (and his entire team) - Karim blogged on our blog Kalimat, Kalimat twice a week for an entire month, preparing our readers for the Egyptian Design issue. And finally, I want to thank the entire Kalimat staff and the contributors for helping put this issue together. Without their dedication, Kalimat wouldn’t be possible.

Danah Abdulla danah@kalimatmagazine.com

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staff DANAH ABDULLA Creative Director+Editor Danah Abdulla is the Founder, Creative Director and Editor of Kalimat Magazine. She is passionate about education in design, journalism and media alongside the creative industry in the Arab region. Danah completed her BA in Communications at the University of Ottawa in Ottawa, Canada and is a Master of Arts candidate in Social Design at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA).She has experience in marketing and advertising where she has worked for companies like Matchstick, DDB and Isobar and is also a freelance writer. Her works have appeared in The Washington Report on Middle-East Affairs, blogTO, Heeba and FEN Magazine. With one foot in the East and another in the West, her goal is to make you rethink the way you know Arabs. Twitter: @theyuppie Web: www.danahabdulla.com

contributors KARIM SULTAN Editor+PRODUCER Karim Sultan is a Toronto-based electronic music producer, oud player, and writer. Born to a mixed household (Syrian-Arab and Indian) that moved and spread from country to country (Egypt, Canada, the Gulf, etc.), he found his home in the variety of music and literature he adopted when left to his own devices. While studying the basics of Western (composition and theory) and Arab (oud technique and the maqam—pl. maqamaat—the Arabic tonal system) art music, he is largely self-taught, inspired most of all by the chaotic structures of the world’s major cities and what Mahmoud Darwish, Said, and others call exile. Currently he is working at attempts to adopt a cosmopolitan approach to produce music based on encounters with electronic music and sound design and an understanding of composition and improvisation found in Arab art and popular music. Twitter: @karimsultan Web: www.karimsultan.ca

----------------------------- ------------------------------RIME EL-JADIDI RAWAN HADID intern COMMUNICATIONS+PUBLIC RELATIONS

Rawan Hadid spent the formative years of her life on the shores of the Arabian Gulf. This was followed by the beautiful city of Montreal, where she pursued her B.A in Communication Studies at Concordia University. Since then, she has completed her M.A in Middle Eastern Studies from Columbia University in the City of New York, where she is currently based. She curated and co-organised the Dreams of a Nation Film Festival in 2011 and has dabbled in magazines, educational initiatives and media production, until she found Kalimat which is where she focuses on pursuing her varied passions in one place and in pursuit of a goal with high social impact. Her greatest aspiration remains: to one day find a place to live that is just as exciting, but not as cold.

----------------------------amina hachemi EDITOR Amina Hachemi obtained her BA from ParisSorbonne University and her MA in Translation, Writing and Cultural Difference from the University of Warwick. She is a passionate linguist with particular interest in literary translation and writing, especially short stories. She enjoys creative experimentation, such as testing the boundaries of language through the incorporation of foreign words into her writing. Being of Algerian and Irish descent, she also likes to explore cultural perspectives and interaction through her work. Amina believes in the arts as a fundamental platform for intercultural dialogue and understanding. She is currently working as a freelance editor and translator. Twitter: @ahach Web: www.ahachemi.weebly.com

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Rime is a 20 year old from Casablanca, Morocco. She is completing her BA in International Studies at Al Akhawayn University in Ifrane and plans to pursue graduate studies in Journalism. Rime is interested in Middle Eastern politics, new media, cinema and travel. She lives in hope of someday becoming a solo traveller. Twitter: @rimerrante

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ALI SULEIMAN Ali is a recent graduate from the University of Waterloo’s Civil Engineering (surprised?) program, in Ontario, Canada. He is of Palestinian and Turkish origin, and is fluent in Arabic and Turkish. Ali has worked in project management and construction in Canada, Turkey, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia. Currently, Ali is the director of Media and Public Relations for the Toronto Area Interfaith Council and was Project Coordinator of the University of Waterloo Sustainability Project from ‘07 to ‘10. His passion for entrepreneurship extended as far as fashion: in ‘09 he organized R4 Fashion, an eco-fashion show in Toronto. He has also provided workshops on sustainable business practices for the Youth Employment Services, and is an avid supporter of green design and development. His interests include historical research, film studies, wind-surfing, and theatre. Ali is glad to be a contributor to Kalimat (and we are glad to have him on board too!), and hopes to provide comprehensive pieces that stimulate the minds of readers. He likes comments, suggestions, and criticism, so feel free to contact him whenever you wish: Email: a.suleiman@gmail.com.

-------------------NAIRA BADAWI

Naira (ni-air-uh) n. 1. A 21 year old music snob who hails from the coastal city of Alexandria, Egypt. Born in Alexandria, she’s the textbook definition of a Leo. Globetrotting between Alexandria, Manchester, Little Rock, Charlottetown, Omaha, Philadelphia, and Toronto, is what made her the self-proclaimed nerd she is now. Nothing excites her more than politics, philosophy, poetry, good tunes and good food. Despite her love for political science and philosophy, studying said subjects at the University of Toronto is the absolute bane of her existence. In her spare time she reads, drinks pretentious teas and plays with her cat, Abaza. 2. Nigerian currency.

-------------------angie BAlata

Angie Balata moved to Egypt promptly after graduating from the University of Toronto. She followed the ‘moral’ path, dedicating her life to human rights and put her mind towards pursuing a Master of Arts. It took a revolution to realise that any change and any event began on the streets. She’s an activist and a tweeter, a writer and a trouble-seeker, and still trying to figure out the ‘everything in between’. Twitter: @3aasy

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REEM FEKRI Reem Fekri is an Emirati currently living in Thailand. She obtained her BA (Hons) in Fine Art from Central Saint Martins and her Masters in Cultural and Creative Industries from Kings College London. She previously worked at Art Dubai and currently works as a freelance writer, writing about art, food and travel.

-------------------RAWAN RISHEQ

Rawan Risheq is a Palestinian woman who has spent the first half of her life in Jordan and the second half in Canada. She graduated from the University of Toronto in Political Science and Middle Eastern Civilisations. She has since travelled to volunteer and document in Indonesia and Palestine and worked with an NGO as part of Queen Rania’s initiatives for education. Independently, Rawan initiated Message In A Bottle, her campaign to raise awareness of the water crisis in Gaza and collaborate with purification companies in an attempt to alleviate the dire need for clean drinking water. She currently resides in Toronto where she is completing the ToP Facilitation Programme at the Institute of Cultural Affairs. She is in a constant state of expression through her creative writing, photography, painting and music, and believes in the power of art to heal and communicate across the world. Twitter: @Soul_RRebel

-------------------SALLY EL SABBAHY

Half American and half Egyptian, Sally El Sabbahy is born and bred in Cairo. Since graduating from the American University in Cairo where she studied Political Science and Arab and Islamic Civilisations, she has spent her time pursuing her two passions: Egypt and writing. Her interests include contemporary Egyptian history, social dynamics in the Arab world and culture and heritage preservation. She is currently a writer for a Cairo based advertising and publishing company and has recently begun pursuing a wider career in freelance writing.

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HEBBA FAHMY Egyptian-Canadian poet, writer, activist, and teacher, Hebba Fahmy can be found scribbling ideas and verse in notebooks and on scraps of paper wherever inspiration finds her. She completed her B.A. in French Literature from McMaster University and her Bachelor of Education at Brock University. Teaching being its own activism, Hebba dove into her role as teacher with gusto. Her interests range from complimentary and alternative medicine to swimming to reproductive rights to sustainable architecture. She is currently working on her debut poetry collection, forthcoming. Her articles, poetry and short stories explore themes of oppression and empowerment, love, sexuality, gender, the environment, notions of ability, identity, spirituality and the Arab revolutions. Hebba has appeared in panel discussions about Muslim women and about Palestine and her writings have been published on rabble.ca.

-------------------ALEX KINIAS

Alexandra was born and raised in Egypt during a time where careers were not a personal choice but rather the result of parental guidance and the educational system. Following in her father’s footsteps, she graduated from Alexandria University as a Mechanical Engineer and pursued a career overseas with a corporation that built power distribution plants in Antigua and Barbuda. In ‘97, she moved to America and decided to pursue her ultimate passion: writing. She studied screenwriting and wrote her first script, Lonely Hearts. The screenplay, which was written in Arabic, was sold to an Egyptian production company. She is also the author of Cleopatra’s Sisters, a collection of short stories about women in Egypt, and several political thrillers and drama screenplays. Alexandra is a member of Scottsdale Society of Women Writers and currently lives between America and Egypt as she works on her first fiction novel that takes place between the two countries.

-------------------TASNIM QUTAIT

Tasnim Qutait grew up in Sweden, Britain, Egypt and Libya. She graduated from London University with a BA in English, recently completed her MA degree at Uppsala University, and now works as a translator and freelance journalist. She is interested in the interconnections between politics, culture and literature and the negotiations of identity between the Muslim world and the West.

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contributors mehrunisa qayyum Mehrunisa Qayyum is the founder of PITAPOLICY consulting and a writer and consultant on issues of development and political economy. She has degrees from Chicago and Georgetown Universities, and worked at the United States’s Government Accountability Office for four years. She is the author of a policy brief on the Syrian diaspora for the Middle East Institute, and has written for Islamic Horizons. She runs a blog, PITAPOLICY, focusing on the political economy of the Middle East and North African region. Twitter: @Pitapolicy

deena douara Deena Douara speaks a quaint form of Arabic but pretty decent English. She writes wherever and whatever she can, including, most recently, blog posts for Salon.com. She has worked as a journalist, teacher and a communications consultant. She considers herself very lucky to have close ties and fond memories with the Middle East, particularly Egypt. Don’t quiz her but in addition to other degrees she does not use, she has a Master’s degree in Middle East Studies from the American University in Cairo. But really, Deena just loves writing and taking pictures.

contributors RANIM HADID

Born in Canada, Ranim Hadid is a Palestinian living between Qatar and Beirut. Currently a Senior Journalism student at the Lebanese American University, she chose this field because she thought it best suited her energetic and curious personality. Upon completion of her degree, Ranim plans to pursue her Master’s studies in the United States. She enjoys learning about different cultures and animals, has a weak spot for children and and hopes to pursue a career in journalism. Twitter: @RanimHadid

-------------------- -------------------- -------------------SOPHIE FARIS bashar CHAMAS HABAYEB alaeddin Sophie Chamas recently completed her MA at New York University’s Hagop Kevorkian Center for Near Eastern Studies, where she focused specifically on the Lebanese-Shi’a group Hezbollah and carried out an ethnographic analysis of a sample of the media produced by the group. She received her BA in International Studies and English Literature from the American University of Sharjah. Sophie is a short fiction and poetry writer and has been published in UnlikelyStories, Big Bridge, and The Juke Jar. She just concluded a summer internship with the New Yorkbased NGO ArteEast, where she served as the film intern. Hailing from Lebanon, she has lived all over the Middle East and is currently "in between" countries.

Born in Abu-Dhabi to Palestinian parents, Faris Habayeb spent most of his early years living in the Arab world. Summers were spent in Palestine and Jordan and in-between, he lived in Qatar until he moved to the Midwest for professional development. Faris graduated with degrees in Visual Communications Design and Professional Writing and Publishing from Purdue University. Currently, he resides and works in New York City as a graphic designer and writer. He has a passion for food, typography and French bulldogs.Twitter: @fhabayeb Portfolio: www.behance.net/faris Web: www.darabzine.wordpress.com

Bashar is a Levantine mix of Jordanian, Lebanese and Palestinian origins and currently resides in Jordan. He’s digital photographer, a motion designer, a social activist and iPhone-obsessed. His two major passions in life are the visual arts and attempting to shed light on social affairs and causes in the Middle-Eastern region through his photography and videos. Bashar is a tech-geek when it comes to cameras and optics. He reads a lot about philosophy, geography and the science of human emotions towards imagery. He loves food, is an Aquarius and quit drinking coffee seven years ago. Twitter: @BAlaeddin Web: www.balaeddin.com

-------------------- --------------------------------------ABDELbassil KHALID RAHMAN mikdadi ALBAIH HAMED An avid sports fan, Bassil Mikdadi holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in Middle East Studies from McGill University and a Master of Business Administration from Virginia Tech. When he isn't slogging away at the office, Bassil enjoys partaking in various athletic activities, learning foreign languages and traveling. He is a big believer in supporting local teams over the football/marketing behemoths and is a supporter of Major League Soccer's Montreal Impact. Bassil is a co-creator of Football Palestine. Twitter: @FutbolPalestine Web: www.footballpalestine.blogspot.com

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Currently based in the Gulf, Abdel-Rahman Hamed recently graduated from the University of Toronto with a Bachelor of Commerce. While the 22 year old makes his living in the world of consulting, his passion lies on the football pitch. A long time follower of Palestine's National Football Team, he co-created Football Palestine - an English language blog dedicated to matters of Palestinian football. In its three years, the website gathered an international readership, including a mention in Sports Illustrated. Outside the football world, he enjoys reading up on politics and history and experimenting with his electric guitar. Abdel-Rahman's vision is for Football Palestine to become a thorough documentation of the Palestinian National Team's trials and accomplishments, thereby supporting wider efforts to preserve and promote the Palestinian identity. Twitter: @FutbolPalestine Web: www.footballpalestine.blogspot.com

Khalid Albaih is a Romanian born Sudanese political cartoonist based in Doha, Qatar. Due to his father’s diplomatic status followed by political exile, he lived in the Diaspora most of his life, surrounded by politics and conspiracy “theories”. Currently working in the Museum of Islamic Art in Qatar, Khalid considers himself a virtual revolutionist, publishing his political cartoons about life in the Arab and Muslim world on various blogs and websites. Twitter: @khalidalbaih Web: www.flickr.com/khalidalbaih

saif alnuweiri nassra AlBuainain Nassra is an Emirati artist, graphic designer, photographer and writer. With a Bachelor in Communication and Media, Nassra has a variety of experience under her belt. Her interest in art dates back to childhood when she was fascinated with colouring books and attempted to draw cartoon characters. This evolved into the challenge of drawing portraits with pencil and her current experimentation with acrylic painting inspired by silk screening. Nassra has experience in advertising, having interned at Young and Rubicam and she currently works as a graphic designer in a governmental entity in Abu Dhabi. Her poetry and writing has been published in a book published by her university and in a student magazine.

-------------------Ahmed El Kaffas

Born in Alexandria, Egypt, raised in Montreal, Quebec, and educated in Toronto, Ontario, Ahmed grew up playing music in local bands and backpacking the world at every possible opportunity. He is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in the department of Medical Biophysics at the University of Toronto. While his formal education is rooted in science and engineering, he has since developed a passion for studying the history, sociology and philosophy of science. This has brought him to look at those both in and outside the scientific community to understand the greater philosophical questions pertaining to the field of study as both an enterprise and a culture. He is also fascinated with understanding the relationship that science holds with society and how the two interact and feed off one another, with emphasis on the Arab/Muslim world and the general Middle-East. Ahmed is also interested in composing experimental music inspired by systematic and oriental rhythms, entrepreneurship for social innovation, and the advancement of scientific culture.

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Saif Alnuweiri is a Palestinian born and raised in Vancouver. Currently a sophomore Journalism student at Northwestern University in Qatar, he has been able to return to his roots after 13 years in Canada. An avid photographer and traveller, Saif takes great pleasure in visiting new places and revisiting old ones. Instilled with the values of the Medill School of Journalism, accuracy and clarity are the most important aspects of any written work. Twitter: @ saifnuq Flickr www.flickr.com/photos/saifalnuweiri

-------------------GHADA Ibrahim Born in Paris and currently residing in Cairo, Ghada Ibrahim has over 7 years of experience in design-related Public Relations and Marketing Communications Management. She is currently working as the Communication and Public Relations Manager of Alchemy Design Studio. Since 2006, Ghada Ibrahim has been responsible for the development and management of Alchemy Design Studio and its designers’ communication activities, which resulted into a considerable increase in the company’s coverage in local and international media. In addition to working on interdisciplinary accounts, she has also specialised in Branding and Design Management; which led to the establishment of several local design brands (&CAIRO). Throughout her career within this Cairo-based leading studio, she had the opportunity to work on a wide variety of high profile projects within the Egyptian Design Industry and participate in various international design events. Web: www.alchemy01.com Email: ghadaibrahim@alchemy01.com

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karim mekhtigian Karim Mekhtigian is a designer who picked-up his skills and knowledge from around the world. Though Armenian in origin, he was brought-up in Cairo in an environment that allowed him to enjoy the city’s multicultural background. He travelled to Paris to study Interior Design and Scenography at the École Supérieure d'Art et Techniques (ESAT). In 1993, he started “Dessilk”; a small Paris-based design studio specialized in the creation of handmade tableware and home accessories. In 1997, he moved back to Cairo and founded “Alchemy Design Studio”, which quickly became a staple in the Egyptian Design Scene with its wide range of design services including architecture, interior and product design. Known as "the Alchemist", this designer started different initiatives to promote the Egyptian industry. The projects included the creation of the Egyptian Designers Forum (EDF) to working as an Art Director for the Egyptian Furniture Export Council (EFEC) and launching his own furniture brand Alchemy Cairo. With a passion for timeless designs, stories and concepts, he has been trying to subtly transpose the Cairene sensorial landscape into his designs for this new brand. Web: www.karimmekhtigian.com

-------------------HEBA EL KAYAL

Heba Elkayal is the Lifestyle Editor of the Daily News Egypt. A writer and a journalist, Heba has spent the past three years exploring and covering the trends of fashion, food, travel, architecture and design interiors in the Arab world, while probing the universe of modern and contemporary Egyptian art. She has interviewed some of the most established and globally recognised artists and designers including Philipe Starck, Christian Louboutin, Rosita Missoni, Donatella Versace, Rabih Kayrouz, Jason Wu, Matthew Williamson and designers of Lebanese brand Bokja. Heba is also a brand ambassador for Egyptian jewellery brand Azza Fahmy. Twitter: @hebaelkayal Email: hebaelkayal@gmail.com

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NEW MEDIA EXTRAS: kalimatmagazine.com D UL O W YOUR AD E N I F Y T H LOOK MIG HERE.

Make sure to visit “New Media Extras” at kalimatmagazine.com for interactive components of articles in this issue.

DOWNLOAD: Listen to our official podcast Isma3oo no. 4. Find out more. Page 147.

. D UL O W T I s e y . . . yes

SHOP: KALIMAT. GOODSie.COM

Kalimat Logo Notebook Make a statement with this 32-page, blank paper, pocket-sized notebook (8.9cm x 12.7cm/3.5in x 5in) featuring the Kalimat Arab Map design all around. Made from 100% recycled paper and printed with vegetable-based inks.

WATCH: Pay a visit our vimeo video channel "Itfarajoo".

limited edition posters Straight up Syrian slang poster “Shufi Ma Fee” is specially designed for Kalimat by designer Nermin Moufti and “Books are written in Cairo, published in Beirut and read in Baghdad” celebrates an Arabic saying. Get these limited editions before they’re gone.

CONTACT US: Have something to say? Maybe some feedback, some suggestions or some work you would like featured in Kalimat? Send us an email to info@kalimatmagazine.com.

Get in touch for our rates www.kalimatmagazine.com rawanhadid@kalimatmagazine.com

“les moustaches” unisex tshirt CORRECTION FROM FALL 2011: On page 81 - bottom photo reads " A self-portrait of the graffiti alter ego? Artist: Shank". Caption should read: "Self-portrait. Artist Amry Aly". Page 85 - 2nd row, left side, incorrect photo is featured to match the caption.

Can you guess whose moustache that is? This fun, limited edition, unisex, 100% fitted white t-shirt is screen printed and will make everyone stop, stare and try to crack the puzzle.

highlights

7aafiz, mish faahim: rote in the Egyptian classroom Deena Douara

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CULTURE

art & Design

100

Towards an Arabo-Scientific Culture - Ahmed El-Kaffas

118

The Ancient and the Urban Sally El Sabbahy

122

Coming out or Coming to terms: Non-traditional sexual arrangements - Sophie Chamas

137

Politics and Sport: Football in Palestine - Abdel-Rahman Hamed & Bassil Mikdadi

146

Kinship in Arab Cinema: Rasha Salti on the myth of a Radical Rupture - Rawan Hadid

147

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A Day in Cairo - Heba El Kayal

Current Affairs

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new media

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BohĂ¨me - Fashion Editorial Acclaimed: International designers on Egyptian Design Karim Sultan

Alchemy Design - Karim Sultan Welcome to the SHANKSPOT: an interview with design gangster, sketch master and a creative wizard - Angie Balata What should we do? Isma3oo No. 4 - Kalimat's official podcast

Ashya2/Things

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S Y R I A Some say that the inherited presidency Bashar al-Assad will soon fall, others say civil war is

coming, while others are sceptical and refuse to comment. Either way, the death toll of protesters is rising (in the thousands), and despite being one of the quieter states in the past, Syria’s true importance comes to the forefront, a vital pressure point between Turkey, Israel, Iran, Lebanon, and the rest of the Arab region.

T U N I S I A In a move that would only cause more discomfort to

autocrats, exiled human rights activist Moncef Marzouki is elected president by a coalition led by the “moderate Islamist” Nahda party. Still in the process of unwinding the tangles left by the former ruling family, a new dynamic settles between Nahda, liberals and the left, and the legal and political legacy of Ben Ali.

P A L E S T I N E Despite the attention

I R A Q As American forces prepare to leave, many of us ask ourselves:

they have received in the media, the second (and Supposedly final) stage of releasing 550 Palestinian prisoners has had issues that have marred the process. Many have re-entered custody, others remain under house arrest, and others still cannot return to their families.

“What happened?” A state now almost wholly dependent on the foreign intervention that brought its fall, Iraq remains a dark reminder of the frailty of alliances and that strange new politics that came to shape the region at the end of the last century.

K U W A I T In news that surprised many outside the

SYRIA LEBANON

TUNISIA

M ORO C C O

country, the government fell and prime minister resigned and—uncharacteristically—protesters stormed the parliament amidst corruption scandals. Is this emirate (which sits on 10% of the world’s oil) yet another to check off the list in the wave of 2011, or is this politics-as-usual, given that the government has been dissolved all but three times since 2006?

IRAQ

PA L E S T I N E

JORDAN K U WA I T

ALGERIA W ES TE R N SHARAH

L I B YA

BAHRAIN

EGYPT

SA UD I ARA BI A

Q ATA R

UNITED ARAB E M I R AT E S

OMAN

MAU R ITANIA

YE ME N

SUDAN DJIBOUTI

B A H R A I N Being home to some of the largest

L I B Y A We all watched it happen. After months of

violence against an authoritarian regime, suddenly Qaddafi’s death was everywhere—it was a headline moment few will forget. Yet the country still remains far from settled in the aftermath of months of violence against Qaddafi’s regime, the images leave us with a lot of questions about the fluctuating utility and disposability of both Arab leaders (and Arabs themselves) in that churning, oil-burning engine of world politics.

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and most sustained protests in the region, events here have come to be known as "the forgotten revolution." Recently, after promised reforms were not delivered following a highly critical report into the protests earlier this year, gathering protests by Shia demonstrators (the majority of the population) have been continuously dispersed in a systematic crackdown against unrest.

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Current Affairs

7aafiz, mish fashim: Who is to blame for rote learning in egypt? by DEENA DOUARA

he rather flat translation of the quote above, “He’s memorised, not understood,” belies its insightfulness, used frequently and across various contexts

in Egypt.

The meme represents an understood societal phenomenon in which a person appears to parrot speech or action without really understanding, questioning, or contextualising it. Egypt’s educational system is well represented by the saying. It is widely accepted in Egypt and across much of the Arab region that the national education systems promote rote learning (learning by repetition) and memorisation over critical thinking, creativity, or self-reliance. The result is that schools breed submission and conformity rather than critical and independent thought. Students become used to and are rewarded for being passive knowledge recipients. Though it would be tempting to use the revolution to debunk such assertions, it would also be hasty to do so without further investigation into who led the revolution, why the country had been relatively calm until recently, and the percentage of Egyptians actually active in revolting and why. Student-oriented and critical teaching methods, on the other hand, are widely hailed as crucial to producing successful leaders, adaptable employees, and productive, developed societies. On a more individual level, such learning creates more confident, creative learners capable of evaluating and analysing, interested in learning for intrinsic satisfaction as opposed to external reward. Egyptian universities, educators, parents and students are themselves concerned about these issues. Even the Egyptian government has publicly acknowledged rote learning as an “educational crisis” since the 1990s and has since initiated various reform efforts. But if everybody is acknowledging and denouncing the same thing, how is the system perpetuated? Who is to blame?

Government A theoretical approach some researchers take is to contextualise education as a reflection of society at large, intentionally or unintentionally shaped by larger political structures. One view is that an authoritarian regime will beget an authoritarian educational system, reliant on punishment, coercion, and suppression. Students are taught that there is only one “absolute truth” or correct answer, and they intensely fear answering incorrectly. In some schools, beating, cursing and humiliation are commonplace as teachers instil fear and enforce authority. Even in university, students may be penalised for holding a different opinion than their professor. 14

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Ultimately, students learning under any authoritarian system anywhere may display “apathy, excessive obedience, uncritical conformity, lack of resistance against authoritarian discourse, self-abnegation, and fear of freedom” (according to influential theorist Paulo Friere). Again, that the “Arab Spring” somehow disproves this theory is optimistic and perhaps more complicated. It may be better said that the wave of revolts have occurred in spite of what has been instilled. While this theory represents education as reflective, other theories are more accusative: the government is not interested in creating a society that will challenge the status quo. Indeed lay people commonly believed the government wanted to keep people too occupied for politics. On colonialism, scholar Lauren Dale says “mass education became a direct means of maintaining social control, using rote to internalise social values of conformity and obedience.” For less pernicious reasons, the government may have had an interest in reducing the number of students flowing into Thanawaya Amma (the final years of high school discussed below) and universities due to the high costs to government and the low returns on investment. Yet another take on the politics of low-quality mass education is to view it as an effect of elite desires and priorities. Professor Mark Warschauer, for one, blames powerful elites with the most to gain from the status quo for thwarting government efforts to disrupt the testing and private tutoring system. He notes that meaningful reform only occurs when powerful social forces push for it. While in some societies wealth depends heavily on a thinking and intelligent workforce, in Egypt it may be argued that larger and easier profits can be made through investment into real estate, import trade, or monopolising a service. As such, there has traditionally been little impetus for elites to push for serious investment into quality mass education. And, of course, the children of elites are rarely attending national system schooling themselves. In this way, the majority of the population is irrelevant to elite reproduction of their own wealth. Nonetheless, reform efforts have been numerous, with varying degrees of success, and burgeoning neoliberals may have a growing stake in educating the population in such a way that would fuel the private sector and adapt to globalised competition.

Teachers Teachers are frequently the first line of attack for societal dissatisfaction with the system. Ultimately though, teachers’ abilities and failures must be accounted for by how the system selects and trains them, and supports or pressures them throughout their careers.

In general, we may presume that enthusiastic teachers will seek ways to engage students and succeed as instructors, however “success” may be defined for them. In fact, it appears that most teachers did not actively seek the vocation and are not enthusiastic about it, at least in the beginning. Faculties of Education accept some of the lowest entrance marks, which reduces its prestige, and absorbs those with few other options. Once in the classroom, in public schools at least, obstacles far outweigh incentives. Even where teachers are trained on the concepts of critical thinking and student-centred learning, they face other practical restrictions: large class sizes which can reach up to 100 students, pressure to cover a lengthy curriculum, and administrator and parent pressures to stick to teaching to the test. Ministry inspectors themselves often prevent teachers from implementing new pedagogy learned from workshops. Most fundamentally perhaps is the issue of salaries, which are notoriously low – the lowest of all state employees – which further tarnish the position’s prestige and status, and undercut teachers’ authority. They have also arguably led to deterioration in teaching quality in the classroom in favour of giving private lessons – perhaps the most controversial topic in education today. Teachers need private lessons for the money, and students need private lessons for the marks. Teachers say they cannot make ends meet, or live a “dignified life” without the sometimes lucrative intake from private lessons (10 times their salaries in big cities). They are a perplexing phenomenon: students in their final two years stop attending school and instead pay private tutors, who are the same school teachers, for tutoring classes which are often equally or more populated than would have been in school. The irony is that while parents and students grow increasingly dependent on them (despite their illegality), they are at the same time blamed for a deterioration of in-school teaching quality, with many even accusing teachers of intentionally sabotaging the system—saving quality instruction for private lessons and penalising students who do not take them. Furthermore private lessons exhaust teachers, leaving little energy for classroom planning and teaching. Two statements can be made unequivocally: private tutoring is ubiquitous, and teaches strictly to the test. The official rate on participation is approximately 58% of families (in 2005), and nearly all secondary students. Households may spend upwards of 25% of their income on private lessons and some families will sell belongings and go hungry paying for them. Attitudes toward “prestigious” and non-prestigious faculties boosts lessons as well, with increasingly fierce competition for the top faculties, which demand higher and higher marks— sometimes exceeding even 100%. Preceding this is competition for general secondary school acceptance (as opposed to vocational school), which practically guarantees university acceptance. Private lessons reinforce rote learning and probably to a greater extent than classrooms do since parents pay tutors solely for higher examination marks. Students with the right tutors or guides expect to find on the exam many of the questions already practiced. Teachers have joined a host of other protesting workers since Hosni Mubarak’s ouster to call for higher salaries, permanent contracts and reduced classroom sizes. Whether or not such changes will soon be implemented and will have the desired effect on educational quality, will remain to be seen.

Exams Thanawaya Amma exams are the secondary school exit exams which cover the entire curricula and account for 100% of students’ marks and university admission criteria. The exams are an event and media frequently cover the weeping, fainting, fury, leaks, violence, and even suicide attempts that accompany them. There are basically three stances on standardised exams: a) they are desirable because they are equitable; b) they are undesirable because they promote undesirable teaching and learning methods; or c) they may be written in such a way as to encourage higher-order thinking, making them beneficial. Societal opinions on Thanawaya Amma are complicated. On the one hand, one frequently hears complaints about

the extremely high stakes exams which exhaust students, parents, and budgets. On the other hand, they are commonly viewed as the sole means of ensuring objectivity and fairness. Some even believe the pressure of exams is what forces teachers to teach and students to study. Universities too find the exams a useful selection mechanism amid ever-increasing enrolments. Overall, there is actually great resistance to changing the system despite what educators and scholars may say about it. Some of the negative effects are summed up by Ronald Dore’s thesis of the “Diploma Disease” which describes how even from primary school, the centre of schooling and learning revolves around preparing for the “monster” exams which almost wholly determine a student’s career path; they provide a single opportunity to test well enough to determine, first, whether a student enters vocational or general secondary school and later, which faculty and career a student may enter, in a society where education, social mobility, prestige, and marriage are all very salient and interrelated concerns. The structure of the exam and the ensuing “training” for it is also problematic. The tests largely consist of very specific factual recall-type questions, which are prepared for through memorisation, drills, and worksheets. Some questions even require the near-verbatim memorisation of definitions or passages. Educator Ali Osman says the system encourages “reproducing” rather than creating or thinking, even up through the university level. In one telling example, he describes an experiment which pitted student responses against prepared model answers. Teachers were asked to rate answers as they would on an exam. To a question assessing English that asked “What do you usually have for breakfast?” one student responded “I usually don’t have breakfast.” Model answers described a few possibilities containing breakfast foods. The student was thus given a zero for his response. Cheating also seems to be thriving. It is not uncommon to hear stories of teachers who “assist” students who take private lessons with them during local examinations, or of students who devise clever and not-so-clever means of cheating. Government reforms before the revolution were aiming to include more portfolio-type assessments, relieving at least some of the pressure of final exams. Different types of considerations could enter into a student’s overall exit “score”. The problem with approaching rote by experimenting with the stakes of the exam is that it does not consider the reason exams have largely been supported by the public: they are seen as (rightly or wrongly), at least just and egalitarian. Corruption and cheating is pervasive in Egypt, and any form of subjective assessment would likely be problematic, unfair, and easily corrupted. Perhaps as evidence, the SAT tests that American diploma students must take went up from 40% to 60% of a student’s final mark because the other 60% were too easily attained, bought, or granted by schools. Many believe changing the exam system to prioritise higher order skills and problem analysis would force everything else to change. The question then is, why have exams not changed in a way that experts, teachers, or administrators recognise as a positive step forward? Back in 2008 when I was finalising my research on the subject, Thanawaya Amma students were taking their Physics exams. The exam was “weird”. Newspapers and talk shows covered the big story that had students tearful, parents angry, and teachers stunned. Some students left in the middle of their exam. One said he had gotten a “brain stroke” upon reading the first two questions. One mother on television insisted on calling what happened “death” rather than “injustice”. There was a public uproar against the “weird” exams. One student, used to being a top scorer, appeared on a popular talk show to express his ire and frustration after having solved 54 old exams throughout the year only to be challenged and perplexed by the difficult exam. Apparently the exam was all “tricks,” “imaginative,” and “indirect”. Among the teachers, students, parents, and even politicians included in the debate, not one defended the exams, despite the fact that everyone appears to be saying that exams should force students to think critically, creatively, and independently. The change in question style would seem to be what K A L I M AT

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experts have been calling for for years: questions to stimulate higher-order thinking; questions that you need not practice 54 tests for. It is actually quite plausible that reform will have to be instated top-down, exactly how it was implemented – through changes in the types of exam questions asked. There would undoubtedly be growing pains as teachers and students alike struggle to adapt to a new way of testing and thinking but these “growing pains” are unjust

to no one in particular and eventually, all parties would necessarily adapt. The Thanawaya Amma system explains many contradictions. While students and parents say they desire a certain type of teaching, what they mean is they would want that in an ideal situation. Instead, they are in a less-than-ideal situation in which, quite naturally, their greatest concern is doing well in school so as to open all the right doors to future success. Teachers are caught in the same dilemma. They are expected to complete the lengthy curriculum and when they do try to implement changes and different teaching practices, they are confronted with negative reactions by students and parents worried about covering the material more directly.

Onward In this transitional period for Egypt it is still too early to tell how education may change. It is certainly not many people’s priority and is not as “hot” a topic as more overtly political ones. Whether education reforms resume, halt, or change entirely, time will tell, but there can be little doubt that the revolution and the variety of new political and social options, and fresh debates it has ushered in will force many young people to make up their own minds about their futures. Whether their education had any effect on young people’s participation in the revolution, there can be little doubt that the revolution will effect young people’s participation in their own education.

We put the culture back in pop culture.

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reality check: Turco-arab relations

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opinion piece by ali suleiman Holding both nationalities and having lived in both Turkish and Arab societies, I believe hold a unique view on Turco-Arab relations. Though I am critical of the AKP party in the following article, I do not hold any political allegiance, and I recognise the benefits it has bestowed upon Turkey. My purpose is to shed light upon what many the Arab region are overlooking and to challenge its public discourse.

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One minute, one minute,” cut in Turkish Prime Minister Tayyip Erdoğan, objecting to Shimon Peres at the 2009 Davos World Economic Forum, “you know how to kill very well”. He then packed up and left the stage accompanied by bedazzled journalists. Enter stage right: the Arabs, swept off their feet, falling in a love affair with Erdoğan, the Justice and Development Party (AKP), and Turkey in general. This new relationship is reflected almost everywhere. Arabs are glued to their television screens keeping up with Turkish soap operas that overwhelm with alluring scenes of the Bosphorus. One Palestinian in Gaza named his son after Erdoğan. And, amusingly, there are now Arabs who profess their newly rediscovered Turkish roots, even if this involves a grandparent, or better yet, a distant great-grandparent.

Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoglu at Arab League - Reuters

Part of me is very happy about the new relationship. During my primary school education in Jordan, our teacher touched on the Ottomans and Arabs, mentioning the Arab Revolt from the Ottoman yoke. To this day I recall the students turning to me and giving me contemptuous looks, knowing that my mother was Turkish. Now I imagine the Education Ministry refining those tiny details to suit a better public discourse. This love affair is getting out of control. It needs a reality check to slow things down for a rational re-assessment.

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The AKP has been able to muster much sympathy in the Arab world for two primary reasons: increased intervention in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and carrying an “Islamic” persona that projects itself as a role model for successful governance. Hereafter, I will use AKP and Erdoğan interchangeably. Sure, I’m happy with Turkey’s new stance on the conflict, but not with the methodology. Following the Gaza flotilla incident Erdoğan became more flamboyant than before, adding threats of military action and promising to accompany future aid ships with naval powers. The AKP recalled its ambassador from Tel Aviv and ended all military relations with Israel (though the extent of this has not been confirmed). Who in their right mind threatens a more powerful and intelligent army? (After all, you don’t threaten a lion when you are a mouse.) But Erdoğan is not dumb; he knows how to use this Israel-bashing opportunity to improve his image at home and to gain Turkish investment opportunities in the Arab world—and that’s all it is. You may disagree, but if Erdoğan were really passionate and sincere about the Palestinian cause, he would terminate economic relations with Israel, not the meagre military one that only benefited Turkey with some small measure of arms. Israel was Turkey’s fourth largest trading partner in 2008, so it is interesting that Erdoğan chose to continue economic relations that feed the Israeli occupation. Does he value the Turkish economic performance—thus ensuring political popularity—over the lives of Palestinians? Finally, I’m opposed to Turkey’s intervention in the Palestinian question due to Erdoğan’s swashbuckling methods and use of “Islamic” idioms. I believe the Palestinian cause should be an Arab initiative and effort (with international aid, not intervention), devoid of any religious idioms, and certainly not Islamic, because it is an insult to our Jewish, Christian, and non-religious friends who strive on behalf of the Palestinians. The conflict is territorial, not religious. AKP’s “Islamic” roots are a major catalyst in this new relation. Erdoğan even exudes an image of the future Caliph to some Arabs. It may sound frivolous, but this is the reality Egyptians welcome Erdogan - aa

in the Arab and the wider Islamic, world. Even In Turkey, while campaigning next to mosques following the Friday prayers, he is also seen by some as a sort of return to the Ottoman Caliphate. Opposition parties in Turkey use this imagery in their polemics, but I don’t believe in it. Establishing a caliphate is not in his or his backers’ best interests, neither will the AKP impose sharia law. Nevertheless, the idea does truly exist in the minds of fundamentalists or the uneducated, who view a vote for the AKP as a vote towards God. I can’t blame the Arabs; from their perspective Erdoğan is a saviour (as demonstrated above) and the AKP is the model to follow if you want to achieve economic success and better living standards, with an Islamist twist. How does it work? Turkish soap operas are a vital cultural export. The shows exhibit a lush lifestyle with attractive characters driving expensive vehicles and living in villas overlooking the Bosphorus. Of course the shows in the Arab world are edited to censor sexually tense scenes to fit in with the “moderate Islam” angle. Still, the audience, in turn, metaphysically participates in the presented lifestyle, which integrates a biased positive image of Turkey and, by extension, Erdoğan, and the civil society that awards such a pleasurable experience to them. Not only has this attracted larger number of Arab tourists, it has convinced many that this is the ordinary Turkish lifestyle. Credit where credit is due: AKP has probably provided the best social services and reforms in the recent past. But this comes at a cost of increased corruption and a more authoritarian regime. Over 57 journalists have been jailed based on antigovernment bias. Other intellects and writers have been detained or put on house arrest based on flimsy conspiracies to overthrow the government. The 2010 constitutional referendum, which passed, allowed the AKP to appoint Supreme Court judges and other unprecedented government control. Yet the soap opera lifestyle remains reserved for close friends of the AKP and its supporters. The Arab region is fed a biased view of the Turkish economic performance, often citing only GDP growth. Yet Arabs who have never read into Turkish history or politics somehow find the authority to claim Turkey is in better shape after Erdoğan; poverty, unemployment, and consumer purchasing power has either deteriorated or remained stagnant. The Muslims in the Arab world have to wake up and realise that neither is the AKP modelled on true Islamic values, nor will the perceived caliphate seek out the Arabs’ best interest. Turkey’s goal is to enhance its regional power and seek economic dominance, not create a brotherhood of Turks and Arabs holding hands. One only must recall his latest trip to Egypt and North Africa where Erdoğan was accompanied with over 350 businessmen

from Turkey. Similarly, over 500 officials and businessmen from various trade and investment groups joined Erdoğan in January 2011, when he visited the GCC capitals. Since the AKP’s victory in 2002, new interest groups formed that possess lobbying powers on foreign policy. These include the Turkish Foreign Economic Relations Board, Turkish Industrialists’ & Businessmen’s Association, and the Confederation of Businessmen and Industrialists. Such bodies have for increased Turkish expansion into Middle Eastern markets, and trade and investment between Turkey and its Arab neighbours has almost quadrupled between 2002 and 2009. I would be the first to suggest that enhanced and healthy economic relations lead to stronger political and social relations, but here we are getting a clear picture of who is dominating. Even if we were to agree on a trade relation that benefits Turkey more than the Arabs built on the trust of some vehicle of Islamic unity, most Arabs are unaware of the foreign privatisation movement in Turkey. Major industries and family companies are giving way to European or American firms, often with AKP compliance. Privatisation can yield benefits, but Turkey’s complete and almost unregulated sell out of natural resources, telecommunications, banks, and other key institutions is alarming. We Arabs can be emotional people. We think with our hearts, and there is the danger of being easily exploited due to this weakness. With attachments to a sense of nationalism and religion, anyone who speaks to us in this language will get our trust. Rather than fully embracing this new relationship, we must be cautious in our analysis. Are we asserting our regional interests in these bilateral agreements? Are we safeguarding our internal policies from exploitation? Turkey should be a regional ally holding extensive relations with its Arab neighbours, but to achieve this, we need a stable, rational, and truly bilateral process that protects self-determination of the Arab region.

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towards an arabo-scientific culture

opinion piece by ahmed el-kaffas

Here, an attempt to describe the problems with developing an innovative culture is set out in a felt way. Though there are issues with always looking outwards for solutions, it is made clear that unless a society undergoes the long, hard struggle from within, no real change can be made.

ne of the hot questions arising from the on-going Arab Spring is on how to improve scientific research and the science enterprise as a whole in the Arab region. All the right motivations are there: about 0.2% of gross domestic product has generally been spent for the past decades on science and research in Arab countries; the overall contribution to the worldly body of scientific literature arising from the region is extremely small; most Arab universities don’t even make it in the top 500 world universities, and so on. This has of course been a relatively important concern for decades, and more recently in the Khaleej (Gulf) region, particularly amongst the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) nations. The trend in those countries has mostly been to develop large scale “science cities,” or build satellite campuses for recognized foreign universities, where foreign scientists are imported to run the show. This sort of model is being considered in post-revolution Egypt in the creation of a science city supported by the Nobel Laureate Ahmed Zewail. As an analogy, I would equate these projects to enormous, state-of-the-art jet planes (very well equipped, sophisticated and powerful) flown by pilots who simply lack experience maneuvering around the local skies and terrain. Just like past efforts to build great institutes and modern universities in the region, these will likely crash and burn with time, unless a scientific culture begins to thrive in the region. The political tectonic plates of the Arab region have consistently shifted every 10 to 20 years over the past century. Changes are rapid, short lived and often lose meaning with equal speed. Confusion is pervasive as its inhabitants try to find their way around to their identity, exploring new and often weak ideologies. Truth would have it that Arabism has mostly failed. This may sound pessimistic, but I believe that understanding this failure would allow us to also comprehend why it is that most comprehensive attempts for change undertaken to date have failed. There are a number of well thought out theories that can try to explain the lack of success in the region: lack of maintenance, short lived passion, fear of the unknown, a lack of grassroots initiatives, the love of all that is foreign, economics, foreign intervention, and so on. All these attributes interact together in an extremely complex manner to yield the current Arab fiasco. I am not interested in writing about the intersection of these factors and how they came about, but what I am interested in is the development of science in the Arab region. I strongly believe that without a scientific culture, science and any long-term initiatives associated with it cannot bloom. Subsequently, I also believe that the development of a scientific culture will lead to seemingly natural solutions to many of the political and social problems of the region. Here I want to set out, in a basic way, a quick overview of the structure of the scientific culture (or the lack there of) in the region. Specifically, I would like to contemplate the following questions: What is a scientific culture? What are the potential societal uses of a scientific culture? And, what are the challenges of establishing such a culture?

What is a Scientific Culture? To the outside observer, it can be said that the average 20

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Arab mindset hasn’t yet realised the true value of scientific research (and academia as a whole for that matter). Yet there remains a belief that the values and lessons of science can simply be imported from the Western world, and that doing so will rapidly generate innovation and influence rapid positive change in the region. A recent article published in Science Magazine (Bhattacharjee, 2011) reports on universities in Saudi Arabia, which offer to “compensate” successful foreign scientists who conduct their research elsewhere on the basis that they include the name of their university (in this case, a Saudi university) as an affiliation in their journal publications. What these academic institutes are doing is simply increasing their academic, scientific, and research footprint through financial means, with minimal attempt to recruit these scientists to conduct their research at the university itself. Such practices can seriously threaten the ability of these universities to transform themselves into world-class research centres. Without local scientists who know the Arab terrain (which includes the Arab culture itself with its traditions, limitations, ideologies, as well as its positive attributes) and who have undergone their own struggles to successfully establish their own scientific culture, these institutes will likely fail with time at generating genuine scientific research, especially as the Arab region continues to change. Lauren Daston, a world-renowned historian of science based in the Maxwell Institute in Germany, describes the history of what can be termed “modern science” (15th century and beyond) as a European self-portrait (Daston, 2006). She identifies the well-known and well-established modern scientific method, and all of its innovative byproducts, as a European (Western) influenced idea, unique to European society because it directly reflects the evolution of European society. The struggles which countless Europeans and Westerners have gone through to establish this enterprise are the reasons why science works so well in the West, and are the reasons why science has become a “culture” amongst Westerners. The scientific revolution was itself a “decisive break with tradition.” she states, initiated on a grassroots level. Those who struggled against ancient traditions sacrificed their lives for the innovative and controversial ideas they believed in, often to never see any form of direct compensation. In the Arab region today, one can certainly appreciate an increasing number of young Arabs who are beginning to live for great ideas and ideals, willing to sacrifice for them all that they have, at minimal financial compensation. However, because this new phenomenon (which really only becomes visible with the arrival of the Arab Spring) is conceptually difficult to adapt within the existing framework of the current Arab culture, the number of people in the region who think this way is very limited. In fact, I would argue that most Arabs in power today still simply seek a quick and easy fix. Although the few notable changes are promising, these will certainly require a great deal of effort and struggle before a noticeable change can be appreciated. Lee Smolin, a physicist-philosopher at the Perimeter Institute in Canada, describes science as a culture made up of a community of immensely imaginative, extremely rational and highly ethical individuals (Smolin, 2006). These individuals are capable

of bringing about new and potentially innovative ideas to change how a society views the world. But just as science influences the society from which it stems, it also is inversely influenced by that society. This sort of influence is often related to the creative forces (arts, literature, media) as well as the ethical values of the society. Scientific culture is then fostered at a very young age in children through an education system that emphasises critical thinking and research skills over simple memorisation skills, further establishing an appreciation and an almost naturalistic scientific existence. Overall, science requires freethinking and the ability to question basic facts, theories, traditions and ideas and, more importantly, the practice of scientific research must not be financially driven. Money can, and will, certainly buy new technologies, the rights to innovations or even entire science centres, equipment and personnel, but we need to realise that along with these comes the lifestyle and sociocultural values of the innovator. Money cannot buy innovation that lead to real change, and it will certainly not buy a scientific culture. Science needs to be developed locally on the basis of a society’s collective curious intellect and yearning for understanding above and beyond that which already exists in its traditions. This is the only way it can be intermingled with its local ethical and imaginative roots.

What are the societal uses of a scientific culture? Science itself can offer solutions to many challenges haunting the Arab world. For one, scientific research is well known to produce innovations, which can in turn enhance the economic growth and improve standards of living. For an example, one can simply look at Germany and Japan. After being devastated by war, both nations managed to return to the world stage as innovators in science, engineering, research and technology. On the other hand, incorporating a scientific culture to complement on-going scientific research offers a completely different range of vital benefits. Some of these benefits include: • An emphasis on rational thinking and systematic methods for resolving everyday life problems (through education and societal encouragement to develop critical thinking and research skills) • A more rigorous evidence-based professional practice (Medicine, Law, etc.) • A system (i.e. peer-review system such as in most scientific and academic communities) which scrutinises and aggressively validates the quality of knowledge production and traditions embedded in a society • Transparency—an obvious problem in most Arab countries (in governance and otherwise) • Research on topics relevant in the region (and sometimes even down to the community)—on a grassroots level, this can even address existential or metaphysical questions pertinent to Arab nations • Enhances the quality of interests of citizens and shapes their personal understanding of the world around them • Yields a systematic and rational self-portrait of a society Of course, a scientific culture in the Arab region would be unique to the region in its ethics and perhaps even in its imaginative character, but would still speak the same language spoken by all scientists—that is the language of reason and evidence based knowledge production. On that level, Arab scientists would then be able to collaborate with scientists across the globe, yet contribute in a manner unique to them.

What are the challenges of establishing such a culture? There is an obvious range of potential challenges that young individuals trying to establish this sort of culture in the region would have to face. The first one to mind is, of course, tradition. Arab societies are often saturated with taboos and norms dictated by religious as well as ancient cultural traditions, which can be excessively limiting to scientific research and the formulation of scientific thought. Another challenge that can be professed is the obsession of all that is foreign. There is a sense of adoration in the Arab world

for importing new things from (predominantly) the West. It is often a struggle to adopt these ideas/technologies/products in the region, which can create a number of domestic issues and challenges. Examples of imports which have led to challenges in the Arab region could include banking systems based on interest, a range of destructive technologies and consumer goods, pharmaceutical drugs and pesticides which have caused a range of chemically-induced diseases, multi-national corporations, and so on. Although most of these may hold appeal for some, without a critical examination and adequate research capabilities these can lead to overconsumption, misuse or the exploitation of a society and its resources. Along similar lines, there has been the tendency to quickly build new and large-scale projects (institutes, cities, vacationing resorts, parks, etc.), without ever feeling the need to maintain what is already present. As a result, these projects often age and deteriorate rapidly. This phenomenon leads to the construction of other newer projects (because we often find that “newer is better”), leaving the older to quickly turn into ruins. Maintenance is necessary, especially if research institutes and universities are to continuously produce good work and good students; we can’t keep allowing everything to fall apart. The elements necessary to produce a progressive and innovative Arab culture need to come from the bottom up and become a natural phenomenon in the lives of the society’s members. From a very young age, children must be taught to question ideas, and reach answers through logic and reason. They must also be taught to struggle for what they wish to achieve and to be creative and imaginative both in what they produce and in finding solutions to their problems. Their sense of curiosity must be nurtured, and they must be taught to think profoundly of all that they encounter in life. These new scientists and academics, native to the region, as well as everyday members of society, will be equipped with the ability to examine their surrounding critically, conduct research and formulate well rationalised conclusions and decisions based on evidence. Consequently, they will be able to design and implement new innovative and creative solutions, which match their physical, economical and metaphysical needs. The methodologies utilised to conduct scientific research and arrive to innovations will also better reflect the essence of the society and adequately address its immediate requirements. Furthermore, it will be necessary for the Arab world to put break with the current culture of “education through memorisation,” which often encourages a “right” or “wrong” (black or white) answer. Doing so also has the advantage of integrating the idea of pluralism into society, an imminent challenge faced by most Arab societies today. Importing foreign models and institutions without laying down the necessary foundations will almost certainly lead to failure. Thus, fanatical opposition to such initiatives will then more likely bring this society even more backwards (as has happened in the past). We’ve certainly seen other such foreign ideas fail in the region. These often do more harm than good. However, having a unique and truly integrated scientific culture in the region will allow a system of maintenance to more readily be available. Furthermore, it will dampen the culture of dependence on foreign intervention currently in place as the region becomes increasingly more independent and capable of competing in a healthy manner with the rest of the world (in terms of the quality of what it produces). Perhaps a good first step to rejuvenate the culture of science amongst Arabs is to revisit the ancient centres (some much older than others) for higher learning. I am referring here to centres such as Al-Azhar in Egypt or Al-Karouine in Morocco—ironically, the two oldest universities in the world. As a comparison, the two oldest universities in the West (Oxford and University of Bologna) remain highly respected and efficiently functional institutes, still ranked very highly amongst the top worldwide research and learning centres. This certainly goes to show how much Arabs generally lack appreciation for their heritage. There are of course many other institutes worth revisiting (and renovating) in almost every country in the region. These centres have an ancient history of knowledge and innovation, an ancient tradition of discovery, of new ideas, of autonomy, of research and of discourse and questioning. Understood as such, such legacy should then provide a solid platform for a grassroots scientific and innovative culture that is well-grounded in a historical perspective.

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THE ancient AND THE urban text SALLY EL-SABBAHY photography Faris Hassanein

n the preface of Cairo: 1001 Years of the City Victorious, author Janet Abu-Lughod, writes, “To the student of modern urbanism…Cairo presents primarily problems…Here admittedly is a city with pressing problems of land use, chaos and inefficiencies, of human and vehicular congestion, of social disorder and poverty, striving vigorously to create a utopia. But here also is a complex city, a blend of old and new, of East and West, which must not be allowed to achieve its new order at the expense of its unique and poignant beauty nor its human warmth. The problem is one of balancing conservation and progress.”1 In spite of having been published forty years ago, Abu-Lughod’s articulate capturing of Cairo continues to ring true to the chaotic yet absurdly functional nature of the city today. However, while the description given by Abu-Lughod may still do the current character of Cairo justice, the Cairo she was writing about then was a metropolis composed of approximately four million inhabitants. Today, the number exceeds sixteen million2,and while the boundaries of Cairo have stretched outwards into numerous urban desert developments since the publishing of her book, the majority of the city’s growing population has continued to reside in the core. Besides the obvious implications that this raises regarding the inefficiencies that are rampant in Cairo’s urban infrastructure and management schemes, it also raises the question of what has been happening with the conservation of the city’s historically significant districts and monuments amidst these pronounced modern stresses. Given how vast and complicated the issue of urban conservation is in Cairo alone, three examples will be discussed to provide a clear insight into the varying approaches that have been used in urban conservation plans across Cairo. Needless to say, the problem of balancing, as Abu-Lughod described it in 1971, is still raging in the city of a thousand minarets. Six months after the resignation of President Hosni Mubarak, local newspapers published photos of El Moez Street, the remaining vein of Fatimid Cairo, which revealed that the recently renovated pedestrian-only road was now lined with cars, motorbikes and impromptu street cafés following the disappearance of the security blockades and tourism police during the initial days of the January protests. “Restored Moez Street needs rescuing again,” read the headline in one popular paper, while a handful of concerned twitter activists called upon the interim ministers of Tourism, Culture and Antiquities to save the well-known historic avenue from its vehicular invasion. At first glance, it did appear that the UNESCO world heritage site, which had undergone costly renovations over a period of 10 years, was at risk of damage due to nothing more than the seeming indifference of its neighbours. However, it is too simplistic to sweepingly generalise the disregard for El Moez’s “pedestrian only” policy as the result of people not respecting the value of

1 Abu-Lughod, Janet, Cairo, 1001 Years of the City Victorious(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1971). 2 Sims, David, Understanding Cairo, The Logic of a City out of Control (Cairo, Egypt: The American University in Cairo Press, 2010).

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their country’s heritage. Instead, the heart of the issue stems from the failure of the Egyptian government to provide and regulate the infrastructural needs of most of Cairo’s neighbourhoods, while paralleling these efforts with the conservation of the city’s historic districts and monuments. The case of El Moez Street is illustrative in that it shows how the social impacts of this policy failure quickly manifest in the absence of any sort of law enforcement. Over a cup of coffee, Omar Nagati, an Egyptian architect, urban planner and self-described “urbanist”, elaborated on the issue. “The problem with El Moez Street is that most of the interventions were meant to cater toward tourists and cultural production, as opposed to the local needs of the people in the area. That’s why after the revolution the local people began driving on the street after the security barriers came down; it’s not because they’re ‘uncultured’, it’s because they have needs that haven’t been addressed. So unless an urban conservation plan addresses the needs of the majority then it’s a matter of power relations.” The story behind El Moez’s renovation and the character change it underwent is particularly revealing in this respect. During a conversation with author David Sims (Understanding Cairo: The Logic of a City out of Control) and architect and urban planner Kareem Ibrahim, it was revealed that El Moez had once been home to a series of markets, specialising in the sale of lemons, garlic, onions and pickles. A walk down the street today would not

“Conservation does not mean freezing the city and making it into a museum, because a city cannot be a museum. To freeze everything is not conservation; it’s a way of looking at conservation that can work for an archaeological site or a painting or a sculpture, for instance, but a city cannot be like that. A city is bound to change, and so the problem of urban conservation is to manage that change,” he asserted. A significantly more successful project in another area of Historic Cairo was undertaken by Aga Khan Cultural Services, which took into account the infrastructural and socioeconomic needs of the modern inhabitants while carrying out the renovations of selected buildings. The focal point of the urban conservation efforts were in al-Darb al-Ahmar, one of the poorest areas of the city, which is also home to a very significant collection of Islamic architecture. Ibrahim, who had worked as the Aga Khan Cultural Services technical coordinator of the Darb al-Ahmar Revitalisation Project, discussed with us the two-pronged development and restoration approach that was created for al-Darb al-Ahmar beginning in the late nineties. After conducting intensive historic, infrastructural and social studies of the conditions of the area, the first phase of the project took off in 2000. “This [first phase] aimed at improving the living conditions of the inhabitants of the area, but it did so through a dual strategy,” Ibrahim explains, “We worked on physically upgrading the neighbourhood by addressing housing issues and

Conservation does not mean freezing the city and making it into a museum, because a city cannot be a museum. reveal so much as a lemon rind, much less an entire market dedicated to them. The disappearance of the markets can be credited to Mubarak’s Minister of Culture, Farouk Hosny, who personally spearheaded the renovation of El Moez Street. His vision for the street’s aesthetic took on a predominantly touristic appeal and consequently, the local shop owners had to replace their goods with shisha and souvenirs, or as Ibrahim describes it, “gentrification on the commercial level.” A particularly poignant embodiment of this commercial whitewashing of El Moez is captured in the story of a fish seller who works directly on the street. Ibrahim recalls, “Farouk Hosny was touring the street and the fish seller wanted to show how proactive he was, so he brought his grill outside and starting grilling fish. Hosny got offended at the idea of a fish restaurant that didn’t fit with the look he wanted for the street, so he shut him down. The man wasn’t compensated; he was simply told he could not grill fish anymore. He literally just sat in his shop doing nothing for three years until the revolution.” In spite of the quirkiness of this one case, it provides a unique insight into the official mentality towards conservation in the historic city. The linear approach to urban conservation that could not accept a fish grill in Fatimid Cairo is what also led to the banning of cars on the street, without providing an alternative space for the shop owners’ cars. With no way of easily moving their goods to and from their shops and often having to walk long distances to reach them, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that once the barriers came down, El Moez’s storeowners returned to driving and parking their cars along the street. In spite of its noteworthy accomplishments in turning El Moez into an appealing historic attraction for Egyptians and foreigners alike, the renovation plans failed to take into account the socio-economic or infrastructural needs of the local people, and as shown, actually detracted from these needs. In a conversation about El Moez with Daniele Pini, the UNESCO coordinator of a three-year long project, entitled ‘The Urban Regeneration of Historic Cairo,’ he summarised the problematic nature of renovating based on such a limited scope.

public space infrastructure and monument restoration, while also looking at the other aspect of socio-economic development of the district.” In that respect, the project focused on microcredit, employment, vocational training, health and education issues and even included some environmental initiatives. “Our philosophy was simply that you cannot do a physical upgrading in the historic context without looking at the socio-economic conditions behind them, and I think this is one of the biggest lessons learned from this project,” he adds. Among the socio-economic endeavours that Aga Khan implemented in al-Darb al-Ahmar were the establishment of a health clinic, the installation of water heaters in many homes and a trash collection programme. In terms of renovations, one of the many structures that were restored included a dilapidated school building, which was originally built in 1905 and was missing most of its ceilings and floors due to decades of neglect. “This building was one of the very rare examples that existed in the neighbourhood, because originally, it was an extended family building. This is actually the case of many of the older buildings in al-Darb al-Ahmar, but most of them have fallen down or have been subdivided into smaller plots with small separate structures,” he notes. Aga Khan was able to buy the school building – a process that took roughly three years – and restore it, and now it is a functioning building for the use of the community. In total, the project managed to restore nearly 100 buildings within al-Darb al-Ahmar, but Ibrahim is quick to point out that this number is still a drop in the ocean because “al-Darb al-Ahmar alone has 5,500 buildings to deal with.” Unfortunately, in spite of the successful model that Aga Khan employed, the “drop in the ocean” impact that Ibrahim described was simply not enough to prevent similar postrevolution transgressions, like what occurred in El Moez, from happening in al-Darb al-Ahmar. Following the absence of any sort of cohesive law enforcement, many financially opportunistic landlords in al-Darb al-Ahmar quickly built additional – and illegal – floors on their buildings, thus deteriorating the urban fabric of the neighbourhood. A renovation process – the results of which have yet K A L I M AT

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to be seen – has also recently taken hold of the downtown area. Although not similar to the previous two examples in that it is not technically considered historic heritage, downtown Cairo has garnered a renewed interest in recent years from private interest groups because of its architecturally significant buildings. In general, the area as a whole has fallen into disrepair since the 1970s, when downtown lost its title as a high-end shopping and entertainment haven to neighbourhoods like Mohandeseen and Heliopolis. A great part of this disrepair, Nagati explains, can be largely credited to rent control, “So, even though many of the buildings may still look fantastic from the outside, if you walked into them you’d find that the infrastructure is completely torn apart, because the owners don’t have enough revenue, thus incentive to maintain the buildings.” Nagati, who also teaches urban design studios focusing on “in-between” spaces in downtown Cairo, added that the recent interest in downtown was sparked by the return of younger generations, who flocked to it to “re-discover something [there] that was lost for their parents.” Following this “re-glamorisation” of the area, large real estate companies who had been paying attention to this changing dynamic, began buying up properties in anticipation of a real estate boom. One of these companies, Al Ismailia Real Estate, owns twenty properties at the present, with plans to acquire another four or five in the near future. During a walk through downtown with Nagati, we were able to see a handful of the buildings that Al Ismailia owns, such as the well-known Viennoise Building, which currently hosts community art initiatives and offers a space for screenings in the ground floor, and a sprawling retro movie theatre, which will supposedly be restored. The current conditions and functions of the buildings sits in sharp contrast to the growing fears that groups such as Al Ismailia intend to gentrify areas of downtown through turning their properties into boutique hotels and high-end bars and shops; a move that would put low-income and essentially informal businesses in downtown– such as the many street cafés – out of business due to increased rents. Karim Shafei, the Chairman of Al Ismailia firmly denies these suspicions and expressed his sentiments during a recent conversation. “I think the definition of a successful downtown, worldwide, is that it is a melting pot for the

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different socio-economic segments of the society. You cannot have a downtown that is exclusive to either the upper markets of society or the middle markets or the cheaper markets. If you label it as either of those you are immediately excluding the other strata’s of the society…Our vision for downtown is that it remains accessible by all different sectors. ”He does acknowledge that Al Ismailia intends to go through with some high-end projects, but adds, “We don’t think that this is the only way to go and this is not the ultimate target of the project. The ultimate target of the project is to have a mixed society in downtown, because otherwise our real estate would simply not be as important.” Nagati seems to agree that the company has been given a bad rap for the most part, but said that he understood the fears expressed by some, as “the paradigm of pushing poor people out of areas and into the periphery of Cairo has taken place in several [other] instances.” For now, it seems that those eager to know the outcome of the urban renovations to downtown will still have to wait a number of years. To summarise, the task of carrying Cairo into the future, while also maintaining the remnants of its past is no easy feat. The combination of weak governance, a burgeoning population, and often-unrealistic expectations of what the city can and cannot be has created the urban paradox that is modern Cairo. However, if the familiarity and understanding of Cairo that was expressed by the individuals interviewed for this article is any indication, the current problem of urban conservation is an imbalance that may one day see itself straightened out.

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illustration Khalid Albaih

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Planned Amman BRT - Greater Amman Municipality

Current Affairs

Tunisian made Wallys Izis montceau-news.com

NEXT STOP: TRANSIT IN THE ARAB REGION

text ALI SULEIMAN infographic DANAH ABDULLA

In a 1899 study on the development and growth of cities, Adna F. Weber concluded that transportation along with political and socio-economic factors caused different growth rates and sizes of cities1. The concept was furthered by Schaffer and Sclar (1980) who demonstrated how modes of travel (walking, driving, public transit, etc.) influences these parameters2. To better understand the socio-economic development of the Arab world, it’ll be worthwhile to review and forecast its transit facilities. The current situation is not as bleak as one would presume, as I did at first. According to a 2009 report by the UN Economic and Social Commission for Western Asia (UN-ESCWA)3 over 30 million motor vehicles exist in the Middle East, including Egypt, and growing at 4.2% per year; average rate of developing countries is 2.8%. Of the 30 million, passenger cars constitute 60% of the road transportation fleet, while trucks and buses make up approximately 28% and 3%, respectively. With 10 million more in remaining Arab nations (North and East Africa), total number of motor vehicles in the Arab League is over 40 million. I began focusing on private vehicle statistics to highlight a growing concern for transit planning in the region: lack of adequate public transit. As pointed out by Lynn Sloman in Car Sick (2006), our car-addicted culture has a high price: obesity, degraded air quality, unsustainable land-use, and dependence on oil. Indeed, the ESCWA report points out that in 2005, 51% of total oil consumption in the Middle East was by road transit! So we are in need for sustainable transit, defined by Indiana University Professor William R. Black as a system or network of transportation that offers independence from oil, fewer emissions, lower road fatalities/injuries, and, reduced road congestions.

CURRENT SITUATION Danah Abdulla and I have prepared a graph summarising existing and planned transit facilities. Note that marine ports are highly commercial zones and mainly used as trade ports, though some passenger services are offered.Majority of railways in the Arab region are for cargo transport, with minimal people movement. Exceptions to this are Tunisia, Egypt, Morocco, Algeria and Sudan, who have significant amount of people movement through national railways. What is exciting is how many governments have decided to develop light rail transit (LRT) systems, best described as trains for urban and inter-urban movement (e.g. tramways, monorail, streetcars, metro, etc.). Egypt and Tunisia are not new to LRT, having operated such facilities since the late 1980s. The city of Cairo is also considering expanding the underground metro with a third line due 2022. An LRT is planned in Jordan between Amman and Zarqa – a route constantly ridden with traffic – with a capacity of 100,000 riders per day. The project is aimed at reducing congestion and emissions, while preserving the environment. Why is rail transit on many of the governments’ agenda for public transit? High-speed and light-rail trains carry a soft approach 1 Weber, Adna F. 1899. The Growth of Cities in the Nineteenth Century. Macmillan. Reprinted by Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press in 1965. 2 Schaffer, K. H., and E. Sclar, 1980. Access for All: Transportation and Urban Growth. New York: Columbia University Press. 3 http://www.uncclearn.org/sites/www.uncclearn.org/files/unescwa14.pdf

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to promoting public transport; they are more comfortable, reliable, and attractive than conventional bus networks. It has a higher people moving capacity, which is advantageous for transit planners. In addition, from a politician’s view, they represent modernity and something tangible to win public support. Rail projects’ gain in momentum signals the promotion of rural transportation, on a regional and national level. This is part of a greater plan known as the Integrated Transport System in the Arab Mashreq (ITSAM), aiming towards strong regional integration. This is furthered by the Agreement on International Railways4 & Roadways5 in the Arab Mashreq. Examples of this regional cooperation include: • a proposed railway linking the GCC countries, with possible links to Jordan and Syria; • five agreements have been signed that include Sudan, Jordan, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and some African countries, involving passengers and goods transport; • a 40km suspension bridge connecting Qatar and Bahrain, offering several traffic lanes and one railway line; • improvements of highway Routes M40 (linking Jordan, Iraq, Palestine, and South Mediterranean coast) and M45 (connecting Jordan, Syria, Saudi Arabia, and Yemen); • new rail network linking Jordan’s urban centres with neighbouring countries for movement of people and goods. On the local level governments must offer proper public transit for urban and rural areas. The need for solutions is to tackle congestion problems due to increased private vehicle ownership and limited road networks.

CAR SICK The first solution governments offer is traditional: more roads, or, their expansion – as we witnessed in Dubai. Often this is sided with traffic signal improvements. However, this is not attentive to the problem, which happens to be increased private motor vehicles. Changing urban forms and shapes to accommodate increased car ownership only feeds the menace that is increased vehicle ownership – reaffirming a “car-city blueprint”. Rather, authorities should promote public transit over private vehicle, to dramatically reduce the number of vehicles on the road. This solves the congestion issue, which in-turn lowers emissions and reduces road fatalities/injuries. Reducing private motor vehicles is not easy, and requires longterm stability and the will to implement policies and monitor outcomes. Nevertheless, heavier promotion of public transport and regional integration of is visible. What follows is what has been achieved (or needs to) in promoting and developing a sustainable transportation model. URBAN FORMATION Not many Arab cities are paying attention to land-use strategies. 4 http://treaties.un.org/doc/source/RecentTexts/11_c_4E.pdf 5 http://untreaty.un.org/unts/144078_158780/4/2/12115.pdf

According to Lynn Sloman, municipalities cannot get people out of cars and into public transit if offices, homes and shops are built according to a “car-city blueprint”. This translates into a land-use model that forces people to drive because no adequate public transportation is available for inter-zonal trips. Measures that would help are: • develop along public transit routes • revitalise inner city zones to be pedestrian friendly, barring cars • locate residence, retail and employment spaces in close proximity, minimising travel-effort • discourage urban sprawling; develop self-contained and carindependent residences These policies require a 20-30 year planning vision.

Cairo Metro Safety Guidelines - D. Bothe

policy and will is Jordan’s replacement of old taxi fleets in major cities; according to the UN-ESCWA, “(…)authorities provided custom exemptions for medium-sized passenger cars and buses and reduced the sales tax...taxi owners have been granted an exclusive exemption from taxes if they replace their old vehicles with new ones.” Cairo has also implemented a similar program in retrofitting old cabs.

The first solution governments offer is traditional: more roads, or, their expansion – as we witnessed in Dubai. BUS RAPID TRANSIT (BRT)

ELECTRIC VEHICLES

BRT is a high quality bus service achieved through exclusive grade-separate lanes and high passenger capacity vehicles. The system can integrate other features such as lowlevel boarding, intelligent fare collection, and fuel efficient or electrical engines. Few Arab governments are following this technology. Jordan has launched such a project for Amman, however, financial and political issues have caused delays. Though significant interest in LRT is promising, municipalities and regional authorities shouldn’t ignore the importance of a good bus service. They can serve many areas where LRT infrastructure is physically barred, and offer a lower initial capital investment – LRT facilities require almost new structures.

This sector remains limited in the Arab world, however, some achievements must be noted. Perhaps the most thrilling is the release of Wallys Izis6, a Tunisian-made 4x4 vehicle (only the engine was manufacture by Peugeot). Although the main engine is a 1.4 litre petrol engine that meets Euro 4 emission standards, an electric version is available with a 90 km range. Recently Jordan launched its first solar-powered electric vehicle charging station to promote clean energy7. It is the first phase of a future vision of installing such stations on the Kingdom’s roads.

VEHICLE EMISSIONS TESTING & CAR REPLACEMENTS Many Arab countries have set vehicle emissions testing, to ensure compliance with rated emissions, leading to improved urban air quality. Old vehicles also result in fuel deficiency and poor emissions. In Syria, 60% of cars are at least 13 years old; 25% of Egypt’s vehicles are over 20 years old; and 60% of Palestine’s vehicles are between 5-15 years old. A success story of

PROMOTING TRANSPORT SAFETY Many Arab countries have taken steps towards reducing on-road fatalities/injuries, almost each having a road safety commission. The Arab Road Safety Organisation was established in 1999 to promote and share road safety strategies. The organisation’s statistical publication isn’t promising, questioning the enforcement effort of policies. However, data is incomplete and only covers between 1989 and 2006. Individual statistics offers a better view. For example, according to the organisation’s publication Morocco has one of the highest recorded traffic accidents of the league at 54,492 in 2006, nearly 3,000 6 http://www.wallyscar.com 7 http://www.jordantimes.com/?news=42481

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TRANSIT FACILITIES IN THE ARAB LEAGUE Underground Metro

Rapid Bus Transit

Lightrail

Marine Port

Inland Waterway

Airport

Algeria Bahrain Comoros Djibouti Egypt Iraq Jordan Kuwait Lebanon Libya Mauritania Morocco Oman Palestine Qatar Saudi Arabia Somalia Sudan Syria Tunisia UAE Yemen

Operating

Planned

Light-rail includes trams, monorails, urban commuter rails.

Bus Rapid Transit refers to exclusive high capacity bus lanes.

Often light-rail systems transform into underground metro lines

Taxi, â&#x20AC;&#x153;share-taxiâ&#x20AC;?, private vehicles and regular buses are common services, not depicted

Rail

more than the year 2005. However, a few months ago Moroccan infrastructure ministry data showed a 17.5% drop in road accidents, attributed to a new highway code8. The code enacted a penalty point system and higher fines for careless driving, something Algeria has decided to adopt. Mauritania passed its first legislature of its kind on road safety, met with protests claiming the fines are too high given the low income of citizens9. Qatar has reduced traffic accidents by 28.6% between 2007 and 2008 through legislation, improvement of road networks, and national awareness campaigns.

LRT in Algeria rabatramways

CURRENT AFFAIRS

intelligent transportation systems

THE SYRIAN STRUGGLE text HEBBA FAHMY

(ITS) ITS is a system that provides an enhanced transportation experience and performance through information technology. Examples include conveying real-time traffic conditions to drivers/commuters for enhanced trip behaviour and mode choice, through information displays at transit stations or on-road messages.The use of ITS in the Arab world is yet limited. Dubai, as usual, is an exception. It implements such a system at its port operations for container terminal management, ship movement control, and customs processes. Furthermore, Dubai has enforced vehicle locating and tracking systems in its taxi fleet. Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, and Saudi Arabia have shown interest in following suit.

IMPROVED FUEL SPECIFICATION Improving fuel specification can result in fuel savings, healthier emissions, and maintenance cost savings. In 2005 nearly 20% of gasoline in most Arab countries was leaded, compared to todays almost completely unleaded. Many countries also sought to reduce diesel sulphur content: Lebanon set a maximum 350 parts per million (ppm) while Bahrain at 50 ppm. Palestine is also improving diesel specifications to comply with Euro 4 standards.

Old road transformed into pedestrian only zone in Amman Expat Family Amman

CHALLENGES & CONCLUSION The main aim towards a sustainable transportation model is to shed from a car-culture to a society where public transit is held as the moral and preferred method of movement. The first step is to provide good public transit facilities at a convenience. The number one obstacle towards a sustainable transit system is funding, followed by weak integrated policies, and lack of technical expertise, according to the ESCWA. The GCC is unique in not being financially hampered. The recommendations presented must be implemented with caution, often integrated with other solutions for optimum results, and always with socio-cultural and physical dynamics in mind. A transit service functioning well in one city may completely fail in another. What remains is proper implementation of policies and regulatory forces. Education is also essential, teaching children on environmental issues and promoting public transit as a healthier and moral choice. Compulsory driving education on safety would also be beneficial. 8 http://tinyurl.com/3evs8o3 9 http://tinyurl.com/3pnpzls

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Metro in Tunisia - Panoramio (htabor)

mid intensifying repression by Bashar Al-Assad’s regime, Syrians struggle for unity and dignity. This past November in Cairo, young Syrian activists rush from meeting to meeting with the goal of unifying all opposition groups. In Canada, a young Syrian lands in an unknown place. Abdulhamid Sulaiman is a young Syrian painter, architect and activist involved in the Syrian uprising since its early days. During the spring he was arrested by the Assad regime. Upon his release, he left Syria for Cairo. In exile, Abdulhamid continues the struggle against the regime, meeting with all Syrian opposition groups in order to achieve a Syria for all, including the Alawis. Mohamad Muner Al Abdallah arrived in Canada in October 2011. A Syrian civil engineering student, he joined the thuwwar (rebels) early on. He too was arrested. During the revolution, he stayed all over Syria, including Damascus, Aleppo, Homs, Hama, and Palmera. Far from Homs, Mohamad adjusts to life in a shelter in Canada. His faith in the Syrian sha3b (people) is indomitable. The road ahead, for him, is paved with struggle – and hope. Both Al Abdallah and Sulaiman see the potential of the Syrian community, amid divisions fostered by the regime. Al Abdallah explains that Syrians, generally, don’t have a lot of money and those that do, use it to help people. They help students from poor families buy books, assist people in getting medical treatment, or in leaving Syria. In Al Abdallah’s experience, discrimination is found in the economic sector of society. On a personal level, he finds that people around him accept each other as human, not as a religion or a language. He sees trust already present in Syrian society, but it is in need of cultivation. Many of his friends are Christians and Muslims, and he lived in a neighbourhood with many Kurds, eating and studying together. Problems are government-created, he feels, and divisions can be mended when the regime falls. For example, the Alawi accent is distinctive and favoured by the regime - people can tell a person’s background by their accent. It is important to Al Abdallah that discrimination ends. If someone applies for a job, he insists, no one should look at the person’s religion. As the uprising continues, people stay at one another’s houses, a peaceful place to sleep and to leave their belongings. People invite defectors into their homes to protect them and so airplanes shoot defectors and some buildings, in Homs. “If I didn’t go, who will go out? The young people have to go out, to make this, to make the government [fall]. We have to do this every day,” states Al Abdallah. The Syrian government succeeds “in killing the people’s fear,” he says. He notes Aleppo’s increase in participation, through the shadow of the 1982 regime crackdown. “We need Aleppo’s assistance to win in this revolution,” he affirms. It’s healthy for people and parties to have different viewpoints, in Sulaiman’s opinion. For the moment, however, they need to come together - for the rebels in Syria. Sulaiman, as an independent member of the opposition, and many others have conveyed concerns to the American Ambassador, the Russian Ambassador, groups from the United Nations (UN), and human rights groups from around the world.

Sulaiman expresses the need for the opposition to unify their demands and strategies. “The rebels inside, they are counting on us,” he says. Foreign countries explain that it would be easier to communicate with one unified body. The Ambassador of the United States in Cairo met many different opposition groups one on one - each group with different demands, requests. He continues, “We have to be together, and we have to give only one demand that we all agree on.” Opposition groups, including youth leaders, meet continually, to finalise a basis of unity. The groups diverge regarding the viability of various strategies to oust the regime. For Sulaiman, this regime cannot be removed peacefully; a sad conclusion, he laments. The revolution should be armed, he says, or should have external help. Other opposition members, like the National Coordination Committee (NCC), feel that the regime can be removed peacefully, or without military intervention in Syria. Groups like the NCC are deterred from foreign intervention by the Iraq and Afghanistan catastrophes, and by the emerging Libyan example, viewed by the NCC as foreign occupations. Al Abdallah and Sulaiman see a need for a no-fly zone, and Sulaiman sees a need for a buffer zone. But, Sulaiman says, “I don’t like it. I don’t want any foreign soldiers on my land.” Al Abdallah concurs, “No soldiers are welcome on Syrian land except for the Free Syrian Army.” Sulaiman adds, “And I don’t want anyone to bomb any Syrian, even if he is supporting Assad.” Al Abdallah says the revolution should remain peaceful, that nobody should be allowed to use guns except for Al-Jaysh Al-Sooree Al-Hurr (the Free Syrian Army, or FSA) and both young men dread civil war. They explain that demonstrators protest unarmed specifically to curtail the possibility of a full-fledged civil war. Al Abdallah explains that if somebody is injured, many people come to the rescue, even under fire to take the wounded to safety. Away from the hospitals, doctors treat injured protestors. It’s hard to face guns peacefully, says Al Abdallah and the demonstrators don’t carry guns. The Syrian security has difficulty facing large groups, he says. They get people alone, which is why groups of people run together to retrieve the injured. Under the night’s cover, Syrian security prefer arriving at people’s houses to round people up for detention. Al Abdallah and others took garbage cans to the street, and stayed awake all night. Three buses of Syrian security and military came and the young protestors threw small rocks at the garbage cans. This loud noise, and the sound of fireworks, emulated clashes and gunfire. The Syrian security forces retreated. Until the tank came, but it didn’t shoot and the youth retreated. On September 12, 2011, Sulaiman attended a workshop called “Warshet 3amal Mo2tamer: Mo2tamer Warshet 3amal: Tajreem Ta3ifiyyah wa Siyanat al-Wi7dah al-Wataniyyah” (Conference: Workshop on the Criminalisation of Sectarianism and the Maintenance of National Unity). “We were Syrians from different sects, different visions. Like, for me, I was from the left, from the Agnostics,” he explains. The Ikhwan Al-Muslimeen (Muslim Brotherhood), Christians, Alawis, Druzes, Kurds, and other individuals and groups were also represented. Together, they wrote a declaration

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Abdulhamid Sulaiman and Haitham Maleh

against sectarianism1. They vowed not allow anyone to attack any sect after the regime’s collapse. Workshop participants also penned a letter to Alawis. The letter emphasises their belief that all people in Syria are equal, including the Alawis, he states. Sulaiman sees that people have learned to expect discriminatory treatment from Alawis, and are therefore suspicious of them. But, he says, there are honest Alawis, who don’t use the preferential treatment the regime offers them. This past November, Sulaiman personally witnessed some Syrian protesters pushing and throwing eggs at NCC members in front of the Arab League building in Cairo. He tried to stop the protestors and help the NCC members. One of them, Ahmed Fayez Fawaz, had spent 17 years in jail, for being against the Hafez Assad regime. He considers Fawaz a patriot. And although Sulaiman is completely against the NCC’s point of view, he stood up for them twice. “We are calling for democracy, for freedom. We should let anyone say whatever they want.” People also attacked some artists who support Assad when they came to the building. “I am also against this, even if they support Assad. We don’t have to deal with them in this brutal way. […] It’s not our vision. We are fighting for rights for everyone, so we don’t have to use this against people.” Sulaiman sees that Syrians are trying to help their fellows inside or outside Syria as much as they can. Al Abdallah notes that many Syrians are giving money to those inside. Both observe that people help friends leave Syria, in order to join them, or help family. Al Abdallah notes that rallies across Canada help tell the Syrians that people outside of Syria support them. The Canadian media covered the protests and even Al-Jazeera picked up the story. “Activists outside are completing the activists inside,” says Sulaiman. Syrians are now coordinating in cities worldwide, to support the Syrian revolution. Spreading knowledge about Syria is useful, in order for people to understand what is happening. Al Abdallah was surprised about the lack of Canadian media coverage on Syria. He appreciates Canadians’ support, including that of the Syrian Canadian Council (SCC). He wants Canadians to learn more about Syria and about the revolution, and urges Canadians to support Syrians by writing to the Canadian government, to send money to the Syrian people and to send some support to the Free Syrian Army. Sulaiman appeals to people outside Syria to increase pressure on their governments to vote against Syrian government, to remove their ambassadors from Syria, and to send Syrian ambassadors back to Syria. He wants people to ask their governments to apply economic penalties on, and to completely cut 1 Nabil Chabib. “Warshet 3amal Mo2tamer: Mo2tamer Warshet 3amal: Tajreem Ta3ifiyyah wa Siyanat al-Wi7dah alWataniyyah” (title in Arabic script). Midadulqalam.info. 12 September 2011. http://www.midadulqalam.info/midad/modules. php?name=News&file=article&sid=1990

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ties with, Assad’s regime. “Activists inside, they can’t work without the activists outside. Everyone has a part,” says Sulaiman. Both activists feels it’s important to spread the Syrian people’s case and to send more letters to their countries, to UN bodies and human rights organisations, asking them to act faster. Syrians are done with the speeches. “We want acts,” says Sulaiman. Syrian refugees are in dire need of assistance. In Turkey, in Lebanon, in Jordan, and refugees like himself. He doesn’t live in a refugee camp, but is a refugee, out of work and applying for asylum. Sulaiman explains that many people are getting killed or arrested, because they fear that no one will give them asylum. If they leave, “they will die starving, maybe, outside,” he states. Syrians are fleeing Syria constantly, applying for asylum at the UN and the UN informs them that it can take over a year to find Syrian refugees in Egypt a country that will accept them. In Egypt, refugees can’t work, Egyptians can’t even find work. How can Syrian refugees find work to survive? Sulaiman states that if all countries gave asylum to Syria, Syrian refugees would be faring much better. Australia, Canada, some European countries, and the USA, take, together, tens of thousands of immigrants. I mention to him the Canadian immigration and refugee systems are highly flawed. I note that Canadians can write to the government, not just to pressure them to grant asylum to the refugees, but also, to demand more receptive systems overall, and to grant status for all2,3,4. Both Al Abdallah and Sulaiman agree that the quality of Syria’s education system needs to be improved. The two concur that bribery must end. Sulaiman highlights the need for a work-focused technocrat government, rather than one focused on religious views. Al Abdallah mentions improvements in agriculture, infrastructure, healthcare, the environment, communications, and tourism. He states that the court must be separate from the nizaam (the state) - it must be independent and make its own decisions. People in jail must have human rights. The Syrian media must listen to everybody, and not say who’s correct - it must disseminate information and let the people decide. The minimum wage of the country must increase, as part of the bribery problem results from a low minimum wage. Healthcare must improve; it’s free, but it must be better quality. The education system must be more organised and contain more practicums. Civil engineers should train at building sites, and medical students, in hospitals. Sulaiman would like to have a country where activities are performed through institutions, rather than the government. He feels that most Syrians, including religious ones, believe in a secular system. Syria can be secular and offer human rights to everyone. In his vision, Syria would make a Ministry of Human Rights. In the meantime, Al Abdallah was shocked that the Canadian government would help him as soon as he landed. Having lived in Syria for so long, this was a completely different experience. He would like to have a place where he can stay for a long time and is planning to apply to university here, and has found a job. He thinks his life will get better. Sulaiman’s future hangs in the balance. He feels that the Egyptian people welcome the activists, refugees and opposition members and finds them to be friendly, supportive, and protective. The people, and even political parties, have given them places to meet, help with media, and interviews. Activists from Syria, Libya, Yemen, Bahrain and Tunisia held a conference and Syrians, Yemenis, Libyans, Egyptians, protest together at the Syrian and Yemeni embassies. “I have carried martyrs in Syria and I have carried martyrs in Egypt,” he says. However, he is unable to use his architectural skills in a country with such a high unemployment rate for citizens – much less, refugees. He sees his status as a refugee as unsustainable. Meanwhile, in Al Abdallah’s opinion, the regime’s violent repression and its lies to the international community, demonstrate that the Syrian government is losing traction. The Syrian people are strong, he says. He states that, historically, once the people decide, they do not wait - they create change, like the French Revolution. He also cites the Civil Rights Movement, calling it the “African American Revolution”. The people identified problems, persisted over time, and prevailed. The Syrian people know that those revolutions triumphed, and so will theirs. 2 No One Is Illegal - Toronto. “Canadian Immigration System: Broken Homes, Broken Promises”. No One Is Illegal - Toronto. Toronto: n.p., 2011. http://toronto.nooneisillegal.org/node/649 3 No One Is Illegal – Toronto and Tamil Youth Organization. “Stop Detentions! Stop Deportations! Status for All!”. No One Is Illegal - Toronto. Toronto: n.p., nd. http://toronto.nooneisillegal.org/node/362 4 United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. “UNHCR urges more countries to establish refugee resettlement programmes”. United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. Geneva: United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, 5 July 2010. http://www.unhcr.org/4c31cd236.html

CURRENT AFFAIRS

VIRTUAL DIALOGUE text Mehrunisa Qayyum

witter and Facebook jumpstart political and social justice discussions. In the case of “TweetNadwa”, a socio-political movement born in Egypt, Egyptian Twitter users are not afraid to jumpstart socio-religious discussions and the role of religion in politics. Lebanon boasts more Twitter users than Jordan, Egypt, Libya, and Saudi Arabia combined. These countries make up a significant portion of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region. Yet Egypt achieved a revolution with less Twitter and Facebook users than its Levantine cousin, Lebanon. Consequently, Al-Arabiya journalist Anne Allmeling, and Dalia Mogahed, Director for the Abu Dhabi Gallup Centre, assert that Egypt’s revolution is incorrectly labelled as the “Facebook Revolution”. Furthermore, social media tools, like Twitter, “amplify” the voices of social and political movements rather than cause social change because Gallup found that only 8% of Egyptians respondents relied on updates from social media as events unfolded leading to ex President’s Hosni Mubarak’s resignation.1

Studying the MENA Universe of Twitter, or “Twitterverse” The Dubai School of Government issued its second report to share data and highlight trends of the “Twitterverse” segment of the Arab world. Although product developers will leverage university study as market analysis to produce new applications, I cannot help but join the several activist “Tweeps” and organisations, like the Search for Common Ground, to determine how to plug in and amplify my voice for a particular social justice cause when I have gone hoarse from talking too much. According to the Dubai’s seminal social media analysis the Arab Social Media Report (ASMR), the Arab region houses 30 to 40 million Twitter users that are “active”. Essentially the active group provides information to about 160 to 170 million Twitter consumers in the Arab region alone2. To what extent have we overplayed the social media factor in political and social movements? The analysis above already covers that, but other socio-cultural and socio-political movements are not pausing for more answers. In fact, social organisation and conflict management activists are moving forward anyway with their smart phones in hand in response to the next phase of grass roots mobilising in 140 characters (the really savvy ones are probably using 139 characters and have already retweeted their analysis of this piece by now). Already, information addicts and policy wonks face a “virtual identity” crisis when tweeting or updating their Facebook statuses. Overlay this virtual identity crisis upon political and social justice activists engaging in virtual debate, then the search for common ground undergoes a translation challenges as nuanced debate must employ language that the technological world uses through binary code of “zeros and ones”. If I overlay this virtual identity crisis upon political and social justice activists engaging in virtual debate, then I observe how controversial actors, like the Muslim Brotherhood, undergoes a translation challenge as nuanced debate must employ brief, succinct language. In fact, 1 http://english.alarabiya.net/articles/2011/06/16/153573.html 2 Arab Social Media Report, 2011-http://interactiveme.com/index.php/2011/06/twitter-usagein-the-mena-middle-east/

social organisation and conflict management activists are moving forward anyway with their smart phones in hand in response to the next phase of grass roots mobilizing in 140 characters. In addition, these lessons learned may apply to a future forum in the US regarding another controversial subject. For example, imagine a symposium, like “TweetNadwa”, occurring in the US as many Americans reflect on the 2010 Census. American townhalls already exist to debate divisive legislation. Why not add an additional layer of participation that would allow opportunities for those who are unable to commute to a far location. The virtual participants would have an opportunity to discuss the data, respond, and then review the implications of increasing minorities.

“TweetNadwa” Functions as an Ongoing Forum for Debate Ironically, my virtual friend—not to be confused with imaginary—Eiman Abdelmoniem, who tweets as @EimanAbdel, responded to my Tweet question: “What socio-political movements serve as positive examples of using social media?” @EimanAbdel pointed me, “@Pitapolicy”, towards “@TweetNadwa”, which means “Tweet Symposium”, an Egyptian inspired/organised project developed by Egyptian grass roots organiser, Alaa Abd El Fattah. In particular, audience members discussed the Muslim Brotherhood, an “Islamist” organisation that inspires political participation and civic engagement and renounced violence over 50 years ago. Hundreds of Twitter users and audience members gathered to listen, read and respond over a large screen in Dokki, Egypt and voice their thoughts in no more than 140 seconds—or 140 characters. Participants responded to questions about their Islamist background to more delving insights, like “Why did you leave the Muslim Brotherhood?” As a result, El Fattah mobilised others who believe in dialoguing on the evolving description and purpose of Islamism, Islamist identity, and its participation in the new public sphere of Egypt. July 6th marked the latest “TweetNadwa” forum in Egypt. The virtual forum discussed social justice and economic challenges. Comments included a range of analyses that both supported and questioned rejected Egypt’s decision to accept foreign loans. Specifically, those favouring socialism debated with those who leaned towards capitalist systems. However, debates are not strictly one side versus another. Those wary of social media’s limitations on communicating nuance need not worry as other Twitter users introduced additional perspectives that did not strictly adhere to “for” or “against”. For example, one participant commented that corruption occurs in both systems—so the “-ism” that should be challenged is “despotism”, rather than strictly “socialism” or “capitalism”.

SudaneseThinker Amir Ahmad Nasr is Sudan’s first blogger and is known throughout the Twitterverse “@SudaneseThinker”. The innovative forum created by Amir Ahmad Nasr provides a contemporary case study of connecting Muslim thinkers, social media activists K A L I M AT

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and Islamic scholars in a global setting. Ahmad founded his blog “Thinking Aloud, Thinking Allowed” to explore the spectrum of Islamic thought. He acknowledges his earlier strict Islamic leanings, which then morphed into atheism, and again transformed into a Muslim who wants to engage with other interpretations that respond to society’s needs. Some ideas might receive more approval, or “Tweetplause”, than others, but democratising a public forum on controversial discussion serves to encourage many possible solutions to a multi-faceted problem. As he quoted Haroon Moghul at a DC based think tank, Freedom House, Islam faces “a crisis of authority—too many scholars who believe that there are authoritative, but they are actually authoritarian.” In this vein, Amir’s online project developed into offline discussions and transformed into the forum “Future of Islam in the Age of New Media”, which invited 60 speakers from contrasting philosophical backgrounds to speak for a minute each. Participants included insights from: Fatemeh Fakhraie, Reza Aslan, Asma T. Uddin, Haroon Moghul, among 56 others. The full recording is available online. Nasr enthusiastically refers to the conference as the first, shortest online discussion of informed interpretations of Islam. The forum tackles what he identifies, as the “postmodern” age problem in that “each interpretation is equal” and thereby problematizes discourse. Each “authority” projects an opinion without reviewing the counterfactual. Hence, if each interpretation is weighed equally, then online and offline communities offer credence to unfounded interpretations rooted in extremism. Moreover, those scholars that tend to agree with one another, continue to engage within comfort zones rather engaging across comfort zones. Thus, interpretation remains stagnant because there is less cross engagement. The goals for the forum included convening those with different viewpoints who normally would not interact with one another. Amir stated that “people holding similar views tend to discuss challenges with each other and are less likely to engage with those who are from other schools of thought,” at a July social media event hosted by Freedom House, a DC based think tank that focuses on transparency in government and civil society. In particular, Amir honed in on a “meta critique” of modernity: each interpretation is equal. However, this philosophy poses the post-modern problem that “each interpretation is equal”, which problematises belief structures and offers credence to unfounded interpretations rooted in extremism. Amir’s organisational experience with social media questions the possibility of “groupthink”. Theoretically, social media introduces an opportunity to tackle “groupthink” by allowing different voices to speak to each other. However, if implemented is social media reinforcing a human tendency to tune into others who we would have already listened to on traditional media? For example “like attracts like”—as the saying goes—where those who are anti-polygamy will not engage with those who believe that polygamy should be reintroduced in modern society. Both schools of thought might simply find comfort in their labels as “progressive” or “liberal” or conservative” without even trying to update each other on their current positions. The vast majority of non-scholars might simply represent a large median range while the “labelled” positions represent less than 20% of the population. This polarized trend applies to other societies as well—not just Islamic interpretations. In fact, the polarised trend reflects how many Americans characterise their dilemma of media coverage as either too “liberal” or too “conservative” nor does it stray too far from how mainstream Americans express their religious, political and social views.

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Lessons Learned: Application in the US? The lessons learned from this forum may be broken into two broad categories: philosophical and organisational. Philosophically speaking, it is possible to engage in controversial, nuanced debates about religion and politics. The reason is simple: rather than acting on the paranoia about the involvement of Islamist parties and avoiding discussion, engage whomever is willing to participate in a respectful environment. In fact, including controversial viewpoints challenge the secular paranoia regarding Islamist politics—which is often magnified by many uninformed media outlets and pseudo political analysts. The second lesson is: abstract, loose associations can still benefit from organised forums via abstract networking devices, like Twitter and Facebook. Both facilitate exchanging ideas without being judged by appearance/physiognomy—or the more divisive construct of ethnicity in identity politics—if one chooses to participate virtually. According to the Pew Research Survey, the average age of Facebook users has risen to 38 from 33 among Americans. The increased participation in social media tools like Facebook reflects Americans’ comfort engaging in social media. What if we, as Americans, discussed identity politics and evaluated the message rather than fixating on the face of the messenger like the “@TweetNadwa” forum? These lessons learned may apply to a future forum in the US regarding another controversial subject. For example, imagine a symposium, like “@TweetNadwa”, occurring in the US as many Americans reflect on the 2010 Census. American townhalls already exist to debate divisive legislation. Why not add an additional layer of participation that would allow opportunities for those who are unable to commute to a far location? The virtual participants would have an opportunity to discuss the data, respond, and then review the implications of increasing minorities. Through social media tools, like Twitter, El Fatah has 1) engaged on a controversial subject of “Islamism”, 2) enlisted participation by non-Egyptians without fixating on ethnic identity, and 3) offered a model for other activists, youth, and organizations to set up their own virtual dialogue by holding their crowded “@TweetNadwa” event. In addition, Ahmed’s organised event challenged the “post-modern” ideology that each interpretation is equal by revisiting the essence of who and what determines authority. In summary, both “TweetNadwa’s” and “Future of Islam” organisers and participants are transforming a paradigm of an abstract controversy into an accessible discussion available to anyone who respects healthy dialogue and differences. Even though the Egyptian and Tunisian revolutions and the Sudan transformation, did not stem from social media, the protestors and participants involved have more options in amplifying their presence and voice for whichever socio-political causes they choose to pursue to better understand their communities. Moreover, information addicts and policy wonks will do their best to keep up with these motivated activists who are either mobile, or using their mobile.

D UL O W YOUR AD E N I F Y T H LOOK MIG HERE.

. D UL O W T I s e y . . . yes

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coming out or coming to terms: nontraditional sexual arrangements opinion piece by SOPHIE CHAMAS

ast June, I received an invitation from a friend to the opening reception of an event in New York City entitled: “Coming Out Muslim: Poems, images and artistic works honouring and celebrating queer Muslims.” While I had met many individuals who identified as queer in the Middle East – many of whom were born into Muslim families – I had never come across a person who identified as a queer Muslim. For some, religion was a sore spot, a thing they rejected because they felt it had rejected and subjected them to social and familial discomfort and unwarranted feelings of guilt. For others it was wholly insignificant, a relic from the childhoods they left behind, gathering dust in a figurative attic like an old toy. The surprise that characterised my initial reaction to the invitation made me realise that I had subconsciously (and ignorantly) assumed the mutual exclusivity of queerness and piety. Additionally, after attending the modest but moving exhibition in the basement of a church squeezed between bustling restaurants in the East Village, I awakened to the uncomfortable realisation that my perception of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ) community in the Middle East had long been framed by mainstream Western discourse on homosexuality in the region– a discourse that assumes the naturalness and transhistorical character of the heterosexual/homosexual binary, the inherently homophobic nature of Middle Eastern cultures, and the universal desirability and benefit of both translating sexual practices into a fixed sexual identity and of publicly professing that identity. In his controversial article “Re-Orienting Desire: The Gay International and the Arab World,” Joseph Massad argues that the international gay rights movement – or what he calls the Gay International – is trying to “remake the world in its own image.” Western gay rights activists, he argues, ignore the particular history of sexual practice in the Arab world and as a result, see the prevalence of private same-sex relations in the region as a sign of severe religious and cultural oppression. These activists then seek to “liberate” practitioners of same-sex relations by helping them publicly embrace the sexual identities they have thus far been prevented from expressing. This discourse, writes Massad, “assumes pre-discursively that homosexuals, gays and lesbians are universal categories that exist everywhere in the world, and based on this pre-discursive axiom, the Gay International sets itself the mission of defending them by demanding that their rights as “homosexuals” be granted where they are denied and respected where they are violated. In doing so, however, the Gay International produces an effect that is less than liberatory” (p. 363). In attempting to impose its own “sexual epistemology” on the Arab world, Massad asserts, the Gay International undermines

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a tradition of sexual fluidity in the region and paradoxically puts practitioners of same-sex relations in danger of persecution. To clarify, the Gay International, according to Massad, assumes that without publicly professing one’s sexual identity, one is not being true to oneself. But this process of outing oneself creates what Massad calls a “uniform desire” and in so doing erases the possibility of other previously available forms of desire and pleasure. A man, for instance, whose desire was to penetrate – meaning he might have yearned for both men and women – in being made to transform his sexual practice into a sexual identity is forced to choose one sexual object. Additionally, in blanketing the region with the homosexual/heterosexual binary – where it did not exist before – Massad argues that the Gay International paradoxically de-naturalises same-sex practices in Arab countries. The heterosexual norm comes to be juxtaposed with the homosexual deviancy and same-sex practices are forced out of the private realm where they had long been allowed to thrive and into the public sphere where they come to be perceived as a threat, as something that must be repressed and/or weeded out. In seeking to liberate Arab homosexuals, Massad argues, the Gay International has actually made it more difficult for them to engage in same-sex practices. I do not purport to engage with the work of the international gay rights movement in this article (a project which would require a lot more research and a much larger word limit). My reason for briefly recounting Massad’s complex argument was to preface the coming paragraphs in which I discuss the way a group of Algerian and Israeli individuals, fictional and real respectively, navigate, experiment and struggle to come to terms with their sexualities. I examine two films, a documentary and a mock documentary, that deal with how these individuals look inwards at their own societies and try to find a space for their desires within them. Instead of dismissing their heritage and choosing to look outwards to the West for acceptance, comfort and “liberation” from the “oppressive ways” of their people, and instead of trying to understand and define themselves using a foreign epistemic vocabulary, these individuals examine their own heritage and customs and try to produce new and modified ways of being that build upon and are rooted in the already established practices of their societies. These films highlight the diverse forms that same-sex relations can take. They animate the point that Massad is trying to make: that what may seem liberatory and universally desirable to one person may cause violence to another and may not be satisfying to him or her. In watching and listening to these people navigate their sexualities on their own terms, we are able to gain an appreciation for the diversity of practices, relationships and configurations of love

and affection that exist in various societies, and we are pushed to question our quickness to assume that a given arrangement is the result of oppression rather than a product of a different lifeworld – one we might not belong to, but which we might be capable of understanding if we take the time to patiently watch it in motion. Israeli director Illil Alexander’s 2004 documentary Keep not Silent follows three Orthodox Jewish lesbians in Jerusalem as they struggle to reconcile their faith and sexuality. Instead of trying to paint a generalised picture about the plight of lesbians within Orthodox Judaism which explicitly forbids homosexuality – Alexander invites three women to relay their particular and varied experiences. They not only speak to us through interviews, but generously make room for the viewer in the most intimate and painful corners of their lives, allowing us to linger in the background behind sheets and window panes as they share private kisses with lovers, engage in painful encounters with family members, and get into heated debates with Rabbis. The first is Yudit, a woman trying to find a way to share a traditional Orthodox Jewish marriage ceremony with her partner. The second is the married Miriam-Ester who has ten children with her husband and has spent her entire marriage repressing her sexual attraction to and feelings for women in order to keep from violating her religious beliefs. The last woman, Ruth, is also married with children but has taken a lover with her husband’s approval and divides her time living between both households. As part of a group known as the “Orthodykes”, these women meet regularly to discuss Jewish law and its stipulations on sexual practices and same-sex relations. I was particularly struck by one scene in the film in which Yudit sits down with a Rabbi to discuss the possibility of embracing her sexuality while remaining a committed and practicing Orthodox Jew. We watch this sweet-natured, timid woman uncomfortably explain to the Rabbi how she tried to “overcome” her desire for women, pushing herself to be with men, trying to shed her forbidden feelings. Nothing worked, she explains. This is who she is. This is how she was born. There had to be room for her in her faith, there had to be a page somewhere in the mosaic of books that decorated the Rabbi’s walls into which she could fit comfortably, in which she made sense. But there was no such page, he asserted. There was no place in Judaism for a lesbian. There is no ambiguity when it comes to this topic, he stated comfortably. We are all tested and made to suffer in different ways by God, he explained. This was her particular brand of suffering and she had to try and overcome it. But since she had clearly tried and seemed incapable of defeating this “affliction”, and in order to keep from entering into a marital union with a man against her will, he suggested she resign herself to a life of abstinence, finding self-fulfilment in charity and volunteer work. I had difficulty wrapping my head around Yudit’s resilient dedication to a faith that seemed to repeatedly shove her out and that attempted to punish her for the way its God had created her. Why didn’t she and the other women in this film just leave the Orthodox Judaism that seemed to bring them so much personal anguish behind, I wondered. As the film progressed, I watched Yudit joyfully satisfy her desire to share a traditional wedding ceremony with her partner and I witnessed the remarkable arrangement that Ruth’s family had agreed upon in order to bring her happiness. I realised that I had misunderstood these women’s relationship to their religion, and underestimated the depth of their faith, and their determination to remain committed to its customs and ways of life without having to give up the desires that make up such an important part of themselves. I realised that bringing my own subjectivity to bear on them, I had wrongfully assumed that their sexual identities took precedence over their religious beliefs, that the former constituted part of their “true self” and the latter a social imposition that suppressed this inner truth. One might assume, like I did at first, that Ruth chooses to stay with her husband while taking on a lover instead of leaving him and “freely” living the life she desires because she is oppressed by an overbearing religion and a society dedicated to strictly implementing its laws and ostracising those that violate them. But, just like we have no right to tell these women

that their sexuality is a perversion, we also have no right to tell them that in order to practice their sexuality and love for women, they must give up the faith that plays such a central role in their lives. It is assumptions like these, which we take for granted and fail to question, that Massad warns us against. When we approach, however benevolently, foreign ways of life without questioning the universality of our own beliefs and ways of being, we run the risk of doing violence to the people we seek to help by failing to ask what liberation means to them, what their desires and priorities are, and whether they needed us to liberate them in the first place. If we set our assumptions aside or at the very least, open them up to the possibility of being challenged and reworked, we are able to see that for someone like Ruth, for example, her “compromise” allows her to continue to practice the customs of her faith and take care of the family she has nurtured and deeply cares for, while being able to comfortably engage in a relationship with the woman she loves. Remi Lange’s mock documentary The Road To Love, while significantly lighter in content than Alexander’s film, is a nevertheless touching and thought provoking story about a young Franco-Algerian on the awkward and uncomfortable journey to realizing, exploring and coming to terms with his sexuality. Karim, a sociology student in France, decides to make a documentary about homosexuality in North Africa for a class project. His encounters with the gay North Africans he interviews make him extremely uncomfortable at first, as he wards off a few unwanted sexual advances and has trouble figuring out the direction of his project. He eventually strikes up a friendship with Farid, a young flight attendant, who teaches him not only about modern same-sex practices in North Africa and its diaspora, but also exposes him to the history of these practices in the Maghreb and the wider Arab world. What began as a friendship gradually blossoms into something more than, with Karim’s girlfriend Silhem noticing the evolving relationship between the two men before Karim fully realises the depth and nature of his feelings for Farid. As the two continue to grow close, Karim becomes more comfortable confessing his feelings to Farid but remains hesitant about “giving himself” to him. Together they travel to Marakkesh, Morocco’s “gay city”, where same-sex practice is ubiquitous and widely tolerated. There, the historical narrative that has framed Karim’s journey to self-discovery continues to punctuate the film, as he learns about the Quranic school famous for its promotion of master-pupil same-sex relations, the Siwa oasis in Egypt where it was considered perfectly natural for men to temporarily marry, and many other examples of same-sex practices in Arab history. What I found interesting and different about this film’s approach to Arab homosexuality was that Karim’s journey of self-discovery does not occur in Parisian gay hot spots. Lange veers away from the expected, from the assumption that Karim’s repressed sexuality stems from his rootedness in a homophobic and intolerant culture and religion. Instead of having his sexual awakening occur in “liberal Paris” and instead of dismissing his heritage as backwards and unaccepting, as something that must be shed in order to embrace his “true self”, Karim is able to come to terms with his sexuality by contextualising it within an Arab heritage of same-sex practice with which he is able to feel emotionally connected and in which he feels at home. He seeks sexual asylum then, not in the West, but in the long history of sexual fluidity and experimentation cradled within his region of origin, a history which, while tragically ignored by modern Arab governments, cannot be erased from a collective memory which preserves it through written and oral histories passed down the generational ladder, and which continues to flourish through continued practice, as extremely secretive as it might have become. Farid, finally understanding what it is that Karim has been waiting for, gives him a ring. As he places it on Karim’s finger the screen flashes briefly to an old image of a Sitwa marriage ceremony, linking the two events. “Well,” Karim says, “you can take me now.”

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greyscale: a rainy beirut voyage photography BASHAR ALAEDDIN

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TAHRIR 2011-THE GOOD, THE BAD & THE POLITICIAN: too soon or soon enough?

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anatomy of a Disappearance: Review by TASNIM QUTAIT

by SHEYMA BUALI

lmost one year on, the political and social shifts that have gone on in our region still stand as unprecedented. While perhaps the euphoria of hope is starting to balance out into a dire and perplexing reality, for some countries the honeymoon is way over, the time to rebuild is starting to lag and ideological complexities are getting thicker. For others, the fight marches on. In the meantime, scholarship and the arts are scrambling to keep up with the zeitgeist, while making efforts to document the trickling points of change. As it is, by now, “Arab Spring movies” have already been received with grandeur at major film festivals all over the world. October’s Doha Tribeca Film Festival gave its “Best Film” award to Merzak Alloueche for his film Normal, set in Algeria with the Arab Spring as a backdrop. Despite its big win, the film got damper reviews with Variety calling it “contrived” and “shapeless” for reworking a shelved project to fit into the current hype. 18 Days, an anthology film of ten shorts, was at the centre of the Cannes’ focus on Egypt. This film was deemed forgettable, but, also according to Variety, with “strong reaction to recent events.” From the same producers comes another portmanteau, Tahrir 2011: the Good, the Bad and the Politician, a feature-length film made up of three half-hour documentaries, which premiered at Venice. In the cases of 18 Days and Tahrir 2011, the argument was made that these films were made too soon to generate an insightful look into those two and a half weeks. But Tahrir 2011 stands as a worthwhile piece of documentation. Slightly similar to 18 Days, all three segments used real footage stitching them to interviews retelling the events of those weeks. If made at any other point, it would not have so energetically grasped the spirit, attitude and overall mood that betook Egypt during that intense period. The first of the three segments is the strongest example of this. The Good, directed by Tamer Ezzat, takes us back to Tahrir Square to revisit the activists who were there, talking about their experiences and looking back at the media images that defined the revolution globally. Of the three, this is the segment that best captured the spirited frenzy of those weeks. The half-hour piece is like a trip back to the main stories and images witnessed around the world: the aggressive water hoses spraying the men in Friday prayer, the wild Battle of the Camels and all the bare-chested men who bravely stood in front of tanks daring them to roll on (these YouTube videos brought new meaning to the word “gada3” [brave]). These looks back at the “bigger” events that were picked up by the media keep details that weren’t included in perspective. To some, this was seen as lacking innovation for that same reason. But innovation is not the point, there is a more practical object here, which is documenting events as they happened through the eyes of the activists, uncensored and unabridged. The Bad, directed by Ayten Amin, gives insight into

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police’s point of view. The officers’ testimonies demonstrate the mixed up political position they were in. The most revealing was their discussion of the “eliminations”, or killings of activist believed to be leading the protests, the on-going cover-ups by the Egyptian media and subsequent resignations of many of the policemen. One officer, hiding his face from the camera, spoke highly of the protesters, referring to them as “revolutionary brothers”, pointing out that they were indeed very peaceful; while another says uneasily, “I also wanted the regime to fall, but this is my job.” This was the most serious and chilling of the three segments. The Politician, directed by Amr Salama, takes a big u-turn. A comic exposé of the man who was the target of the nation wide protest, this is the most experimental of them all. Cartoonishly in its pop-colour scheme, it questions what it takes to be a dictator and digs up some silly anecdotes about Mubarak’s superficiality, namely his ritual of hair dying (stating “hair dying is a philosophy not an action.”) Salama interviews different men that were part of Mubarak’s cabinet, as well others who were not, including Alaa Al Aswany, author of Yacoubian Building, and former Director General of IAEA, and Egyptian presidential candidate, Mohammed Al Baradaei. This segment brings up media manipulations and nonsensical hair colour concerns of the men in charge (Wednesdays were apparently hair dying day with most of the cabinet’s men following Mubarak’s lead). The film succinctly collects the stories that stood out during the revolution, retelling them from the point of view of the people who were there. The raw emotion of the immediate review of iconic events kept the energy high throughout the three-part documentary. It is often the case that a time buffer is used to look back at big events in order to give them certain sense of logic and narrative. In this case, there was very little, if any at all, which for documentative purposes, worked very well. Tahrir 2011 mirrors the way the media worked throughout the Egyptian revolution: grassroots, empowered and immediate. People on the streets with cameras and phones took the place of formal journalists, their videos, images and text being the content of major news networks. This same footage and information is now being used in cinematic documentaries being screened worldwide, archiving testimonies and setting stories straight. Civilian media lead the recording and disseminating of “truths” that corporate media either failed or wasn’t allowed to do. Tahrir 2011 captured the unique spirit of the revolution, documenting the united voice that toppled a 40-year-old regime. Whatever happened after that, well that’s a whole other movie.

ibyan writer Hisham Matar’s latest novel Anatomy of a Disappearance is at once the coming of age story of a son’s struggle for intimacy with his distant father, and a haunting tale chronicling that father’s disappearance, leaving the son in the limbo that is the psychological shadow of a disappearance. Suspended in the past, without the finality of bereavement, the lack of closure is articulated by the young narrator as a condition of inbetweenness: “The truth is, I don’t believe Father is dead. But I don’t believe he is alive either.” The absent father is a recurring theme in Hisham Matar’s writing, drawing from the abduction of Matar’s own father. Jaballa Matar was once a member of the Libyan delegation to the United Nations and, after Muammar Gaddafi’s coup, found himself a political dissident living in exile. Abducted in 1990 by the Egyptian secret service, he was handed over to the Libyan equivalent and subsequently imprisoned in the notorious Abu Selim prison. His fate remains unknown until this day, though the collapse of Gaddafi’s regime may yet yield information on his and countless other missing Libyans’ cases. Hisham Matar’s writing, both journalistic and fictional, gives voice to Libya’s four decades long history under one of the most entrenched and brutal dictatorships of the region. Both his novels have been hailed as being “prescient,” under that double-edged quality of “timeliness” ascribed to works seen as having contemporary political relevance, as distinct from the “timelessness” to which literary works are often said to aspire. His debut novel, In The Country of Men, charts the surveillance, show trials and public executions of a police state through the perspective of a nine year old child whose father is imprisoned by the “Guide.” A finalist for the 2006 Booker Prize, it was

quickly labelled “the Libyan Kite Runner” not so much as a result of topical resemblance between Matar’s novel and Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner, but as a reflection of the contemporary interest in works tied to “the Middle East” and connected with the so-called War on Terror. The recent turmoil that has been given the name the “Arab Spring” has again lent topicality to Matar’s work. His second novel, Anatomy of a Disappearance was completed in November of last year, a month before the recent wave of Arab uprisings began, and was published on the heels the Libyan uprising and just as Muammar Gaddafi’s regime was collapsing. During the early days of the Libyan uprising, in an attempt to stave off a revolution, Gaddafi freed a number of prisoners, including some of Matar’s relatives who had been in prison for two decades, and one of his cousins was later killed during the battle for Tripoli, an event he wrote about in The Guardian. Through his writing, and the well-known circumstances of his father’s abduction, Matar has been described as uniquely positioned to speak to the political forces that fuelled the Libyan revolution. However, while much has been made of the semiautobiographical nature of Matar’s fiction, there is no raw emotive or confessional quality to the novels, which are remarkable for their spare and lucid prose, leaving the reader to fill in the gaps. Moreover, despite the specificity of the first novel’s setting in Tripoli in 1979, the reader is left with the sense that In the Country of Men could be set anywhere. Rather than allowing the narrative to be embroidered with ethnographic details, the novel’s spare style works to strip away much of the sense of particularity, representing Libya as the archetypal totalitarian state. In Anatomy of a Disappearance, this is taken one step further as the whole novel takes place in exile. While the father, a former minister in an overthrown monarchy, is described as working towards a time “when the country comes back to us,” that country itself remains unnamed. From the few details we are given it appears to be Iraq rather than Libya, but very little is made explicit throughout the novel. Events are subordinated to atmosphere, and politics, like the mysterious abductors, are left in the shadowy margins of the story, even as the impact of political forces on the individual lives they rupture is testament to the truism Kamal offers his son: “You can’t live outside history.” The disappearance of the narrator’s father is at the vanishing centre of both of Matar’s novels, which are both narrated through the perspective of an only child, yet they are markedly different in tone. Suleiman tells his story with an urgency and immediacy, describing with vividness a child’s confusion at his alcoholic mother’s “medicine,” and his dissident father’s mysterious “business trips.” On the other hand, Nuri’s narrative has an air of quiet introspection that lends an atmospheric, intangible quality to the writing. While the first novel focuses on the claustrophobic bond between a child and his lonely and embittered mother, the second is largely about a son’s struggle to understand and connect with a distant father. At the beginning of Anatomy of a Disappearance, the young narrator Nuri el-Alfi lives with his father Kamal, K A L I M AT

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Hisham Matar - National Post

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ArteEast Maps Arab Subjectivities at moma by RAWAN HADID

T a dissident in exile in Egypt whose relationship from his son is strained following the death of his wife. As Nuri tells us, his father “seemed to have lost his way with me; widowhood had dispossessed him of any ease that he had once had around his only child.” Father and son become “two flat-sharing bachelors kept together by circumstance or obligation,” until, while on holiday at a beach-front hotel in Alexandria, fourteen year old Nuri meets Mona, a young woman in a yellow swimsuit who becomes both a source of adolescent angst and a mother substitute: “the yellow strap running across her back brought to mind the yellow hospital bracelet that had been bound round my mother’s wrist.” Mona’s emotional hold on both Nuri and Kamal further complicates their relationship until the story takes an unexpected turn with the mysterious disappearance of Nuri’s father. The son who wanted to be the father, to emulate “his elegant, tailored clothes, his perfectly manicured fingers, and that defiance in his eyes” finds himself lost as a series of revelations unravel any certainties Nuri held about his father’s life: “All that I did not know about my father—his private life, his thoughts, why he was kidnapped and by whom, what he had actually done to provoke such actions, where he was at this moment, whether he could be counted amongst the living or the dead—was like a mask that suffocated me.” Throughout the novel, the precision promised by the title is affected through an increasingly narrow focus on the effects of the disappearance on the son, almost to the exclusion of all else, so that the narrative develops into a dissection of the coping strategies by which we respond to loss. The unknown fate of his father continues to slowly consume Nuri, this paralysis deftly captured when he tries on his father’s old raincoat: “I tied the belt around my waist the way he used to do. He will need a raincoat when he comes back. This might still fit him. I returned it to its place.” Nuri tells us that following his father’s disappearance, ”[e]verything and everyone, existence itself, has become an evocation, a possibility for resemblance. Perhaps this is what is meant by that brief and now almost archaic word: elegy.” This intense focus seems to force the events of the story to recede to the background. This quality of Matar’s writing is evident in the first novel in the immersion of the reader in the stifling atmosphere of the police state, as young Suleiman evolves from innocent child to a participant in an inescapable culture of private betrayal and public humiliation. Compelled by an urge he scarcely understands, he is driven to betray his best friend, and later to inform on his father to the friendly security 48

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man in the white car outside the family home. He witnesses the disturbing scene of his mother’s self-abasement as she begs the wife of the local secret police chief to save her husband, an incident which haunts him many years afterwards: “That visit has remained with me ever since. Whenever I am faced with someone who holds the strings of my fate — an immigration officer, a professor — I can feel the distant reverberations from that day…and this is also why, when I finally think I have gained the pleasure of authority, a sense of self-loathing rises to clasp me by the throat.” Writ large, this scene of desperation and humiliation sums up the circumstances that impelled the recent Arab uprisings calling for dignity and social justice, as a new generation attempted to resist the despotic regimes their parents had attempted and failed to overthrow before them. This kind of insight into the emotional impact of living under oppression is at the heart of the political relevance of Matar’s writing, which dwells on the dangers and rewards of resistance. In Matar’s first novel, the revolutionary fervour of the father and his comrades is met by a bitter response from Suleiman’s mother: “Clouds,’ she said, ‘only clouds. They gather then flit away. What are you people thinking: a few students colonising the university will make a military dictatorship roll over? For God’s sake, if it were that easy I would have done it myself. You saw what happened three years ago when those students dared to speak. They hanged them by their necks. And now we are condemned to witness the whole thing again.” There are parallel passages in Egyptian writer Ahdaf Soueif’s The Map of Love, published in 1999, including one character’s prescient account of how many revolts there have been in Egypt: “We live by slogans. We take comfort in them: the great Egyptian people. The peaceful, patient nation that when it is aroused shatters the world. Shatters the world? Tell me when in all of history did the Egyptian people rebel? When? When ‘Urabi [reference to the uprising led by Ahmed Urabi in 187982] spoke up for them, they sold him out. They ran away and let the British in. You’ll say 1919 but 1919 wasn’t a revolution. It was a few demonstrations and it hasn’t changed anything… Fifty-two? That wasn’t a rebellion of the people. It was an army movement which rode the people and told the people that it spoke with their voice. The people have no voice.” These passages offer a poignant reminder that for all the euphoria over the uprisings in the Arab world, the story is not yet over, and that it is through the very act of reading that a work’s significance becomes lasting, moving from timely to timeless.

he Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) has begun to redefine and expand its credentials with respect to Arab art beginning with a landmark three-part exhibition on Arab cinema—Mapping Subjectivity: Experimentation in Arab Cinema, 1960s-Now. A mouthful? Possibly, but the content of this film programme is no small feat. Longforgotten films and entries at recent high-profile festivals join forces in what the programme refers to as a remapping of cinema from the Arab world. I had long ago resigned myself to perpetual disappointment when it came to Arab and Middle Eastern focused organisations—reductive, essentialist, orientalist or simply ill-informed—I had yet to come across anything that didn’t feel fundamentally flawed. Whether it were new organisations with a post 9/11 agenda, desperate to pander to a holier Other, or whether it was established arts organisations venturing into the suddenly-sexy world of Middle Eastern art, I was usually left with a sour taste in my mouth. If I saw one more poster with a niqab-covered woman and another film series called something smart like “Unveiling Arabia,” I may have had to unveil that poster off the wall myself! But then I moved to New York, and New York is the city where all bets are off. ArteEast is a non-profit arts organisation based in New York City that focuses exclusively on promoting and supporting artists from the Middle East and their diasporas. Their programmes manage to find that balance between working within a regional agenda and somehow escaping the narrow and flat framework for approaching audiences that is ubiquitous when dealing with all things Arab. Their film programmes specifically propel the critical viewer to question what we were being told by the programme as a whole—to push our boundaries and challenge preconceived notions of the topic or subject at hand. Programmes like Mapping Subjectivity that give another layer to the regional framework and complicate prevailing perceptions, are the strength of ArteEast. Last year, the programme opened with the well-known master of the absurd in Palestinian filmmaking, Elia Suleiman. Much of its remainder, however, was made up of hard-to-come-by films, or works by less well-known filmmakers. The obscure was prevalent, and the programme was formed of clusters that reflected thematic and aesthetic relationships rather than chronological or geographic ones. This programming intends to inspire new ways of thinking about modernity in the cinema of the Arab world. If this sort of programming didn’t change the interlocutor and tell stories despite, rather than because of, overarching discourses, I didn’t know what could. The second year of Mapping Subjectivity included a

diversity and richness of visual imagery from all over the Arab world. A panel titled “Archives, Appropriation and Montage: Rewriting History and the Personal in Arab Film” was held at the MOMA. There, Rasha Salti, senior director at ArteEast, and Jytte Jenson, Curator at MOMA’s Department of Film were joined by Jean-Michel Frodon, film critic, Karim Tartoussieh, scholar of Middle East and Islamic Studies, and Rania Stephan, filmmaker. Her film, “The Three Disappearances of Soad Hosni” was part of Mapping Subjectivity: Part II and was acquired to become part of MOMA’s permanent collection. At the panel, Salti discussed her hope that critics and scholars will revisit and rethink prevailing theories, and the way we are taught to think about Arab cinema. The entire programme is premised on such complications; an against the grain reading of modernity, screening the continuities and conversations between modern narrative filmmakers and postmodern conceptual art. By teasing out the alliances, the programme insists that a kinship exists and challenges a prevailing view that an animosity is present, whereby postmodern creative producers refuse to use modern works as a reference. The focus here is on the use of found footage and archives to engage critically with official narratives, often approaching what may otherwise be considered “unmentionable”. A number of films in Mapping Subjectivity Part II achieve this through the personal, absorbing the audience into the life of the filmmaker. “Hiya + Howa Van Leo: Her + Him Van Leo” (Akram Zaatari 2001) is the portrait of Armenian-Egyptian studio photographer Van Leo, where “Her” is Zaatari’s daring grandmother. The film is a conversation between Zaatari and Van Leo about photography and its relationship to film, and how Van Leo remained outside of the way in which photography is used by national projects. While the state produces ID card photos, Van Leo produced studio portraits of scantily clad women. Like this, the film places us at the intersections of experimentation and modernity. Another film, chosen to screen immediately after “Hiya + Howa Van Leo” was “Ikhtifa’aat Soad Hosni el-Thalaathat: The Three Disappearances of Soad Hosni” (Rania Stephan 2011), an elegy to that stunning icon of Egyptian cinema. The dialogue between lowbrow Egyptian cinema and video art is testimony to the power of fabricating fiction from archival fiction. This is a film history of Soad Hosni, but also of Arab women in film history itself. In paying homage to Hosni’s career, Stephan avoided the polemic nature of her tragic death and decided to work with Hosni’s work. The result is a slowly compiled three-part Greek tragedy, which asserts, “Imagination is more beautiful than reality,” where Hosni’s memory is the plot, and the actress tries to remember her past. The final product is stunningly powerful. K A L I M AT

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ArteEast’s Programming

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During the second installation of Mapping Subjectivity at MOMA this year, I sat down with Barrak AlZaid, Artistic Director of ArteEast and talked about how and why ArteEast got started, how the organisation challenges people’s understandings of the region, how education fits into ArteEast’s work, and all of the smaller scale programmes that keep ArteEast engaging.

Hiwa + Huwa Van Leo

Ikhtifa’aat Soad Hosni el-Thalaathat

Barrak and I spoke about ArteEast’s many projects— far too many to describe in detail here—from their visual art exhibitions, film programmes and artist talk series, to their online programmes which include quarterly publications such as Arte’Zine and Shahadat, a literary e-zine which toggles between translations and thematic issues, which look at both popular literature and contemporary literature. As though all of this doesn’t keep ArteEast bustling and busy enough, they also act as a resource for artists. ArteEast streamlines grantwriting processes, acting as an intermediary for the artist by acting as their fiscal sponsor and disseminating industry news, artist opportunities, grants, fellowships and production grants. When discussing ArteEast’s location: not having a dedicated space, and being located in New York City, versus say, Beirut or Cairo, Barrak had this to say: “All over the world we’re doing this incredible work from different standpoints and I think what we do that sets us apart is, we act as a kind of a nexus and a platform for all the disparate ways of doing Arab or Middle Eastern art. We have a really dynamic online platform, so we’re able to provide resources directly to artists and to consolidate all that noise that’s out there about, you know, grants and funding opportunities and residency opportunities. So I think that that’s really where our strength lies, is our ability to kind of be—to be able to tie together all those different ways of doing art and ways of supporting artists.”

The Revolutions Currently, the one topic that pervades all things Arab is that of the revolutions, and it’s a topic that has also punctured into the ArteEast bubble . Barrak commented on the impossibility of reflecting sensibly or intelligently so early on. “Because there was so much revolutionary programming that was happening afterwards, we really wanted to step in and say, now there’s an important level of criticality that needs to happen before we can just perpetuate all these images. The first response that we had was with the issue of Shahadat, which did the translations of the signs that were in Tahrir Square. “With that issue, we took a slice of all the revolutionary fervour that was happening and attempted to situate that slice within a very specific cultural, historical and regional analysis… Things that audiences over there would take for granted—that’s an aspect of the education that we do.”

The Arab Art of the Arab Gulf Another topic that preoccupies me when it comes to “Arab Art” is that new-fangled mania I spoke about earlier—the “suddenly sexy Arabian Art,” and the type of gallery that has been popping up in recent years that sells art at really high prices, which five, ten years ago was unimaginable, for the artist 50

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and for the buyer. Very few would have thought a piece could fetch six digits in a 3-minute auction in Doha or Dubai. Now it just happens much more often and we discussed what the echoes for this new art market are in New York City and around the world. Barrak commented: “Part of what drives the market is production of works and how they circulate. So I think works are gaining presence, and as for what’s happening in the Gulf, I mean, there are galleries that have been operating there for many years. You have Sultan Gallery, Farida Sultan (the director), who’s been showing works in her gallery for years and the same with Dar Al Funoon, and that’s just in Kuwait! Then you look at Dubai and you have dozens and dozens of galleries that have cropped up in the last couple of years and I think a big part of that is driven by Art Dubai and the intensely commercial nature of the market that’s created by having a global centre for art and for collectors. So I think that when you create a space for something, you never create something in a vacuum; it’s always being pushed and supported by other things. So you know, you have Art Dubai and you have that happening alongside the Sharjah Biennial, alongside the construction of cultural institutions in Abu Dhabi. You have that region acting as a nexus and a mid-point…Geographically, if you just like look at where that fair is situated, it’s an area of very high interest, it’s an area very high passage… There are lots of people that are passing through.” There are of course, consequences to this type of movement: “If you look at the Sharjah Biennial last year, so many incredible works that were produced through production budgets by the biennial. Just forget regional specificity; just look at the works themselves and they’re just works of art, and it’s something really special. Rania Stephan’s film was, completed in a large part by support from the Sharjah Art Foundation. It won the biennial prize, and was recently acquired by the Museum of Modern Art. It’s being shown simultaneously at the Mapping Subjectivity programme and in the gallery installation at MoMA PS1. That’s another way that the interest is being leveraged. The flow of information is not uni-directional” And it is precisely this sort of natural, organic flow that ArteEast promotes and perpetuates that makes it such a necessary organisation. While so many things continue to go wrong, and those “Unveiled” posters are still around, at least something else is out there for the rest of us. Next year’s instalment of Mapping Subjectivity may be the last, and I for one am already excited for it. I am sure the many more programmes forthcoming will continue to draw audiences and cultivate critical conversations.

BARRAK ALZAID

Politics and Sport: football in palestine by Abdel-Rahman Hamed & Bassil Mikdadi

he international footballing world that is governed by FIFA is strewn with scandal. From racism to bribery FIFA has weathered quite a storm in recent months. Lost amongst the controversy and bright lights of the World Cup Finals are the success stories FIFA is responsible for. A prominent example of such success was the creation of a fully-fledged, re-affiliated Palestinian national team in 1998. This meant the Palestinian National Football team could now compete in World Cup and Asian Cup qualifying, a symbolically significant development for a people without a United Nations (UN) recognised country. FIFA approved the membership based on its “neutral stance” towards the final status negotiations between the Israelis and the Palestinian Authority (PA). Palestine quickly announced its presence on the world stage with a bronze medal in the 1999 Pan Arab games in Jordan, beating out the likes of Qatar, Syria and the United Arab Emirates (UAE). With these early participations, there were clear political overtones as the local media lauded every match as a statement of existence and match commentators rambled on about solidarity. For the fans, there was enormous pride as the Palestinian flag was carried onto international football grounds and the players stood for the anthem. The national team did not just represent a geographic region, but an identity that was dispersed the world over. In 2002, this global outreach was emphasised as Nicola Shahwan, a Chilean-Palestinian, was put in charge of the team, bringing in five South American based players with him. Today, the Palestinian squad draws more players from historic Palestine - both in and outside the Green Line - as local football

got back on its feet, and it includes players from wherever Palestinians can be found. In this sense, it truly unites and represents Palestinians, whether they are from the Occupied Territories or in the Diaspora. As years went on, fans naturally started to expect more from the national team. “Participation for the sake of participation” in tournaments was no longer enough. Results were demanded as the local press and online football forums became increasingly critical and scrutinising of every performance. However, there was room left for excuses as Israeli travel restrictions hampered preparations more often than not and the fact that the local league was in hiatus meant not as much was expected of the players. In fact, these hardships made any results achieved all the more celebrated as in the eyes of the fans, they demonstrated the perseverance of the Palestinian people. This link between struggle and sports should make it no surprise that the team is nicknamed “Al-Feda’ie” (revolutionaries) after the fearless resistance fighters of the 1960-1970s. The Palestinian Football Association (PFA) had a modest budget and was supported by the generous efforts of a group of Palestinian businessmen. Squad selection was subjective as there was no stable pool of players to draw from and neither was there a sure way to assess their abilities than in short training camps. Difficulty in obtaining the necessary visas from Israeli authorities and poor coordination with the clubs of foreign-based players made the planning of these training camps even more chaotic. Furthermore, while other teams enjoyed the comforts of their home matches, Palestine played its “home” matches in Qatar and Jordan in near-empty stadiums, often travelling the same distances as the K A L I M AT

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“visiting” team. With all these factors, Palestine had, by default, underdog status. It was easy to rationalise this: If all other areas of Palestinian life were out of the ordinary, surely football had to be too. In 2008 however, something changed. The PFA administration was dissolved and a new one, headed by former PA security chief and Fatah Central Committee member Jibril Rajoub, took over. He brought with him enormous political backing to the PFA as its annual budget swelled to $6.5 million - an eight fold increase. Since Rajoub took over, Palestine hosted several international matches on home soil, the first of which was against Jordan and hugely hyped. The West Bank Premier League was resurrected, thanks to PFA funding and corporate sponsorship. Rajoub’s political “connections” meant more easily issued visas which facilitated travel. The national team benefited from these developments as the league got players into shape, introducing new faces, and the matches on home turf boosted team spirit and increased fans. If political overtones just came naturally with Palestinian football before, with the new PFA administration, they became part of official policy. The Faisal Husseini International Stadium located in Al-Ram, a town on the outskirts of Jerusalem, became the new home of the Palestinian National Team. Its location is not accidental and is in line with the Palestinian Authority’s claims to East Jerusalem. Whether it was the senior, Olympic or Women’s team that was playing, any match at home was touted as a political achievement in PFA press releases. Concerns among the fans grew that the national team was being used as a political tool as matches with questionable technical benefit were being agreed to. One example was a trip to Iraq for their first international match on home soil since the US invasion where the unprepared and weakened Palestine squad was hammered in the two matches in Baghdad and Arbil. That might be one extreme end, where purely political considerations are factored into deciding on what matches to play. The PFA otherwise has used this “football diplomacy” wisely, in some cases to bring technically adept teams into the Occupied Territories to play against Palestine. Very recently, South Africa’s development squad visited Palestine for two matches in Dora and Nablus. The dates for the matches were chosen for political fanfare, one was held on the anniversary of Yasser Arafat’s death and the other on the 23rd anniversary of the Palestinian Authority’s declaration of independence. The “sons of Mandela” were welcomed in their visit of solidarity to the last people in the world under Occupation. All the political aspects aside, these matches were beneficial to Palestine’s preparations for two upcoming tournaments. More often than not, fans are left with the feeling that the political overtones are more important to the PFA than the game itself. Since hosting that first match against Jordan three years ago, posters of foreign leaders, adjudged to be representative of the national team or club Palestine were playing, have been hung in prominent areas all over the stadium alongside depictions of their local counterparts. The list of leaders to get this treatment includes some of the most maligned sovereigns in recent years: Ramzan Kadryov, Vladimir Putin, Bahrain’s monarch Hamad Al-Khalifa, Silvio Berlusconi, Tunisia’s deposed President Zine El-Abdedin Ben Ali, and most recently, Jacob Zuma. As Palestine strives for credibility on and off the pitch, one must ask what this political pander is achieving. For his 52

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Tatreez…preserving Palestinian identitY text and photos RANDA OTAIBI

T part, Jibril Rajoub has announced that he will not seek a second term as PFA president and instead return to the political sphere. FIFA has stringent laws concerning the use of the sport as a political platform. In November, the governing body stopped England from wearing poppies on their jersey to commemorate Remembrance Day. FIFA has also issued bans or threatened a ban for a slew of nations whose governments have obstructed actions of the FA. For whatever reason, Rajoub’s blatant political hijacking of many games has escaped the ire of FIFA. Football has become a powerful tool over the past three decades: the sport has become intertwined with popular culture and its stars can garner billions of dollars in revenue. On the international level, football has become a bastion of soft nationalism, which has resulted in the creeping of political messages. The teams and associations involved avoid any potential controversy by simply focusing on the game. But with politics affecting Palestine’s ability to call up players and travel freely, it is nearly impossible for them to emulate their European counterparts. That being said, the political messaging in Palestinian Football has gone past soft nationalism: it’s become more of a platform for Fatah’s leaders and their political visions. With a new coaching staff in place and with another PFA executive board set to take charge in 2012, it remains to be seen if the politicisation of Palestinian football is just a passing fad or the start of an unfortunate trend.

atreez– the Palestinian embroidery or cross stitch – is more than an art or craft; it is an integral part of the Palestinian culture. This kind of handicraft has geometric patterns and floral or biomorphic motifs which has been generated instinctively, transferred from generation to the other expressing the wisdom of a nation’s heritage. Implemented professionally, this simple systematical work procedure maintains the thread direction while moving from one stitch to the other. Thus, it produces a one directional stitched piece that reflects the unity of the origin in spite of the variety of the patterns. Embroidery styles changed recently. Patterns which, for centuries, were tied to regions and villages became mixed together. The dominating red colour which used to be dominating the tatreez also gave way to a variety of colours expressing the new generation’s preferences. Embroidery survived, but it was transformed from a village handicraft into an artistic expression of Palestinian identity.

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KHALED M - Montreal Mirror

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thawra! libyan revolutionary rap via CBS

by TASNIM QUTAIT

ays after the Libyan revolution began on February 17, 2011, the newly formed group Revolution Beat came to the hub of the Libyan pro-democracy movement, the collection of seaside buildings known collectively as “The Courthouse” in Benghazi. They found an empty room, brought in their equipment, and started recording their first song, titled simply and appropriately “Thawra”(Revolution). The group’s appropriation of a room for their creativity is an apt metaphor for a generation that grew up under the regime of Muammar Gaddafi finally finding the space and the freedom to express themselves with revolutionary zeal. Early on in the uprising, hip hop became the music of choice for many young Libyans trying to oust Muammar Gadhafi, embodying in its form and content the revolt raging in the streets. In one article, a Libyan rapper was quoted as saying, “The revolution expresses how we feel and that is what rap is about: expressing how you feel. And now we are not afraid.” Following the liberation of Benghazi, musicians in the opposition-controlled east were able to air their work on radio stations such as Benghazi Free Radio, Libya FM and Tribute FM, composing songs aimed at boosting the morale of fighters and persuading people that it was time to rise up against the regime. Dozens of rap songs were put on CDs and groups started distributing copies to demonstrators at the courthouse in Benghazi where crowds gathered every evening to listen to speeches, drumming, chanting and patriotic songs which celebrated their release from decades of fear. Earlier this year, TIME featured an article with the title “Rage, Rap and Revolution: Inside the Arab Youth Quake,” describing “Rayes Le Bled” as “the anthem of the young people who have shaken regimes from North Africa to the Arabian Gulf.” With 60 percent of people in the Arab world under the age of 30, youth culture has been at the heart of the cultural and social forces driving transformations in the region, and rap songs in particular have created an important platform for encouraging a spirit of resistance. This outburst of political, insurrectional hip hop in the region was not born out of the uprisings; rather, the events of what has been called the “Arab Spring” galvanised an underground music scene that has been evolving over the past few years. As a historically subversive form of music, hip hop has been used to give voice of people who had been marginalised, evoking themes of struggle and resistance. Artists in the region have been creating their own versions of this form of music with live performances beginning in the 1990s, borrowing from but not blindly mimicking mainstream Western hip hop. In tapping into hip hop’s spirit of defiance, Arab artists have reshaped the style to fit their own purposes, to voice outrage about the problems in their societies, rapping about poverty, unemployment corruption, autocracy and repression. As the lyrical, rhythmical nature and the hyperbolic boasts of hip-hop bring it close to Arabic poetic traditions, fusions of poetry, pop, traditional music and rap have been created by artists adjusting the beats and lyrics to fit their own reality, an art form which in many cases emerged as a platform for free speech and political resistance.

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Many of these groups worked underground, a result of government repression and censorship. In Gaddafi’s Libya the bold invective of this form of music would never have been allowed on the state-controlled radio stations, and so the only way of circulating tracks was through cell phones and the internet, a major outlet allowing them the ability to record songs and put them up online almost immediately. One of the most prolific Libyan rappers, an artist known Ibn Thabit, who had been criticising the regime in Libya in his songs since 2008 and kept his identity hidden in order to protect himself and his family from government reprisal, posted the song “Al So’al” (The Issue) on YouTube on the 27th of January 2011, several weeks before the uprising began in Libya. In it, he comments on people who will say “at least we have bread, bread is cheap/but you can’t measure the price of blood.” Towards the end, he addresses Gaddafi directly: Muammar, you have never served your people Muammar, you’d better give up Know that you can’t escape Our revenge will catch up to you Like a train coming at a wall... I swear by the God who created you and created us Muammar, your end is near After protests began on 17 February, Ibn Thabit continued to release songs such as “Tripoli is Calling” and “Libya Is” which includes both Arabic and Tamazight lyrics, posting videos on platforms like YouTube and offering songs free for download on his website. In his “Call to the Libyan Youth” Ibn Thabit ends the song with these words: “I have a message for you/this is the chance you dreamed about/so you can live standing on your feet not on your knees.” A self described “ordinary Libyan speaking the thoughts of many Libyan youth,” Ibn Thabit’s anonymity and the fact that he had not promoted himself opportunistically as a revolutionary “celebrity” produced a unique dynamic of identification for many young Libyans who saw his potent lyrics as expressing the frustrations, the dreams and the hopes of their generation. Recently, on the 30th of November, Ibn Thabit posted a video on YouTube announcing that he would keep all his videos and his website up for those who want to download his songs, but that after the liberation of Libya he would no longer be creating new material, saying that he didn’t create music for fame or applause, but for the cause. Ibn Thabit has collaborated with MC Swat in a song called “Victory or Death,” and another called “No Doubt” which sends out this message of self-examination: “Those who want the revolution to succeed/Begin with yourself,” and continues “Now we’ve overcome the fear of death/now we each have a voice/Now silence in the face of oppression is a crime/The devil’s dream would be that nothing changes/And that is what I’ll fight, as long as I’m alive.” Another prolific artist, MC Swat’s songs include “Story of 1969,” “Laugh and Smile” which commemorates the martyrs

REVOLUTION BEAT - Odd Culture

those in the homeland, forging identity links between those who never left the country of origin, those have lived abroad in self-exile or forced exile for decades, and those who grew up as second-generation immigrants. Through this sense of unity, protest songs by artists with dual or hyphenated identities such as LibyanAmerican artist Khaled M have become part of the unofficial REVOLUTION BEAT - Odd Culture soundtrack for the Libyan revolution. Based in Chicago, he is the son of a Gaddafi dissident who was jailed for five years under the regime. After the as those who will not die, and “17th February Revolution,” uprising began, Khaled M. and Iraqi-British which begins with these lines: Lowkey released the single “Can’t Take Our In the name of the revolution, Freedom” which contained lines such as In the name of this generation “You cant take our freedom and take our In the name of Libya’s beloved soil soul/You are not the one that’s in control/ Today I stand and claim my rights La ilaha illa allah/no power is greater than With five million behind me. God’s.” These lyrics employ the shahada (the article of Muslim faith) to de-authorise Ibn Thabit is represented with three tracks in a Gaddafi, destroying the self-created power and omnipotency of his personality cult, admusic anthology inspired by the events of the “Arab Spring.” dressing him directly: “Go ahead and divide “Khalas Mixtape Vol. 1: North African Hip Hop Artists Unite” your plans, at the end of the day you are features songs by artists from Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and just a man.” Algeria. The album was complied by Khalas (Enough) (www. One of the refrains of many Libyan enoughgaddafi.com) an organisation formed by members of the Libyan diaspora in 2009 in response to Gaddafi’s rap songs is to refer to todays’ generation as first speech at the UN. The Khalas mixtape is an example the “grandchildren of Omar Mukhtar” in refof the way protests throughout the Arab world have alerence to a famous Libyan resistance fighter lowed not only the long-repressed voices in the region to who fought against Italian colonialism in the 1930s, a testament to the historical context reverberate, but also created an opportunity for people in in which the revolution is seen. Many of the diaspora to speak out in unison and collaborate with

the songs include the words “We will not surrender, we win or we die,” a slogan taken from a speech by Mukhtar, which became the title and opening words of a song by Irish-born Libyan Rami El-Kaleh. Tragically killed by Gaddafi loyalists in March before seeing the song released, El-Kaleh’s lyrics give poignant resonance to the song’s message that the revolution can not die: “You can burn all the bodies / You can bury them in the ground / They will rise from their ashes / Just to bring you down.” Interweaving lyrics with the musical components of the protests themselves, with call and response rhyming chants and segments of Gaddafi’s virulent speeches, music, and especially rap in Libya popularised calls for resistance and protest, and the Internet spread this message like wildfire. Rather than being a trend indicating political or ideological affiliation, it became a platform for honest self-expression and a productive means of expression for youth to communicate with one another across the region. In becoming the rhythm of the resistance, these songs about revolution strip away the “bling” of the genre and brings it back to basics—someone telling it as it is, uniting people who share common struggles, and encouraging new beginnings. As MC Swat says in “No Doubt”: “I have something to say, and I don’t need a podium/I only need a mic to reach you.”

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THE BOXER

text and photos by BASHAR ALAEDDIN

rifa, a 27 year-old aspiring filmmaker, seems to be your average Jordanian girl, but not exactly: she’s Jordan’s boxing champion, a title she’s maintained for two years and is about to defend it for a third time this December. I sat with Arifa to ask her about the sport, her life and the time she got her first broken nose.

ARIFA: Boxing taught me discipline, patience, self-confidence and selfcontrol. I have learned to never under estimate my opponent, or anyone, and to keep pushing myself. You never really know what type of person you are until you have been tested, and stepping into the ring is always a major test. Above all, I learned that it’s never too late to start doing what you love.

BASHAR: Tell me about yourself BASHAR: What is the one thing you love about boxing? What’s the best part? ARIFA: I’m a 27-year-old aspiring filmmaker. In 2006, I earned my Bachelors degree in Film and Journalism from the Lebanese American University. I am the two time boxing champion of Jordan in my weight category as well as the captain of the national team. My favourite colour is hot pink and I am a Libra (laughs).

ARIFA: Winning! When the referee raises your hand at the end, announcing you as the winner, the feeling is not comparable to anything else! I have come to love the discipline of training and getting myself in the best possible shape, both physically and mentally.

BASHAR: What inspires you about boxing?

BASHAR: How do you feel about the world of boxing in Jordan?

ARIFA: I have been boxing regularly for the last four years, and every single training session I learn something new. I love how it stimulates and coordinates your entire body while keeping your mind sharp; every move counts, it’s like a game of chess. The footwork is pretty challenging too, like a dance.

ARIFA: The members of the Jordanian men’s team are internationally ranked, they are world-class boxers. I am currently training with them and they are fascinating to watch every time. They have earned gold medals in world championships and are in the qualifying rounds to go to the Olympics in 2012. On the other hand, The women’s boxing team is relatively new, our achievements and performance can’t be compared to the men’s team just yet, however I can see it improving and female boxing in Jordan becoming more popular in the next few years. We have what it takes to make it; state of the art facilities, dedicated coaches and enthusiasm…what we are missing is more boxers. I invite anyone to come to a training session, and who knows, they may fall in love with boxing like I did!

BASHAR: What role do you think you play in encouraging other young women in Jordan who want to pursue boxing? ARIFA: I hope that when young women see me in the ring they think, “she can do it so I can too!” I think I have inspired my friends and family to realise their athletic potential whatever age they are. I do hope my experience encourages women to put their gloves on and get into the ring. BASHAR: What obstacles did you have to overcome (mentally, physically, socially, etc.) to become the champion you are today? ARIFA: I was never really an athlete. At 23 I discovered my passion and talent for boxing. I started training on a daily basis to make up for all the lost time. So one of my biggest challenges is that I’m still trying to physically transform my body to that of an athletes’ and to master the mental and physical aspects of boxing,. BASHAR: How does your family feel about your athletic ambitions? ARIFA: My family have always supported me in everything I’ve done, but honestly, they didn’t take me very seriously when I told them that I want to compete and enter the National Boxing Championship after only boxing for a couple of months. However, when they saw my dedication and complete transformation, they cheered me on. We were always raised to be the best at what we love to do. My family started to get more physical, even my grandparents support me fully by always keeping up with boxing news. Actually, my grandfather collects newspaper clippings of me! Everyone is proud. I remember before competing in the Asian championship, I was nervous about the thought of breaking my nose, so my mom said nothing that is broken can’t be fixed.

BASHAR: What’s your next step? ARIFA: I will be defending my title for the third time in the National Boxing Championship of Jordan soon, and then I’m ready for whatever the boxing federation has planned for our team in 2012. Exciting! BASHAR: What do you do in-between training? How do you relax? ARIFA: I am a freelance assistant director, so when I’m working on a project, the long hours make it difficult to eat and sleep properly! Between projects, I make sure that I get enough sleep, eat well, get occasional massages and generally take care of myself. I love watching movies and spending time with my family and friends. BASHAR: Tell us about a major win and a major loss. ARIFA: I will never forget my first boxing match at the 2009 Jordanian National Championship. I wasn’t expecting to win at all, it was the first time I got punched squarely in the face, but the natural high of winning made it worth it! I lost in Kazakhstan at the Asian championship. It was a different calibre of boxing. Still, that training camp/championship in Kazakhstan taught me life lessons and I made friends with some world boxing champions. We had a great time. You win some, you lose some as they say. Robert Green Ingersoll said, “The greatest test of courage on earth is to bear defeat without losing heart.”

BASHAR: What lessons from boxing have you transferred onto your personal life?

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DUBAI in patong text and photos REEM FEKRI

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KINGDOM OF WOMEN: REVIEW by RAWAN HADID

Arab and Indian waiters bearing the restaurants t-shirts.

’m driving through Patong, a rather claustrophobic and somewhat soulless area of Phuket, Thailand and rather suddenly, in true Thai style, the heavens have opened up, and it starts to pour rain. It’s falling so hard I fear it might leave bruise marks all over my forehead. My scooter feels slippery on the road, and I can barely see through my fake Ray Bans. I pull into the nearest café that I could find. I run in soaked to my very core. I look up at the tacky neon sign reading “Dubai Restaurant” out loud. I laugh and look around. Dubai? In Phuket, Thailand? Of course. It’s surreal, the “kitschiness” of the décor, the smell of apple shisha in the air, the ornate gold frames that surround the portraits hanging on the wall. I sit down and order hummus, lentils and baba ganoush (eggplant dish). It’s over priced and rather terrible tasting, but I enjoy every bit of it. Because for half an hour, while the torrential rain alters my day, I’m home.

A customer sitting in what resembles a majlis, under a charcoal sketch of His Royal Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum

ilms about Palestinian women, Palestinian refugees, and films about Ein el Hilweh Refugee Camp, are in no short supply, but Dana AbouRahme’s Kingdom of Women does speak a new visual language that sets it apart. A resoundingly satisfying visual appreciation of how the women of Ein El Hilweh have navigated their lives, the film is peppered with animations which show the viewer what the women’s stories cannot convey: memory, visual history, and feeling. The film follows the women through their lives as they tell us their stories and about their struggles and successes. Produced in collaboration with Al-Jana Arab

Institute of the Arts, the film maintains a strong sense of oral history, chronicling an element of the Palestinian experience. The largest, and most well known of the Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon, Ein el Helweh has endured war and destruction through several Israeli invasions and the Lebanese civil war. The film records the lived experiences of mothers, daughters, sisters and wives as they tell us about the complete destruction of their camp and how they rebuilt their lives and their homes. In one sense, the film can be seen as a commentary on gender in refugee camps: after the destruction of their homes , the women did what they felt they needed to do to survive. Without simply being pigeonholed in their “Palestinianness,” these women and their stories are truly inspiring. Making films about the Palestinian experience continues to be a complicated undertaking. There is no one way of being Palestinian, just as there is no one way of being a woman. As I saw this film, it was ultimately about everyday heroes fighting their every day struggles—it just so happens that these struggles take on a particularly forceful narrative when the Israeli invasions are involved. One sequence of events includes women burning the aid tents provided to them in protest of their living conditions. Here, the women taught the aid workers the lessons they needed to be taught—scenes particularly gratifying to watch. The women took their own lives and homes into their own hands and refused to have their futures dictated to them by unsympathetic aid workers. Living in tents was not going to be an option, and they made that clear. There is a history, and violence, and consequences, and this film absolutely accounts for and involves all of those, but I don’t think all our Palestinian stories should be about struggling mothers,

There is no one way of being Palestinian, just as there is no one way of being a woman. and distraught refugees. People respond to their environments and create change and that is what is inspiring. This need not always come in the form of iconic images, like Leila Khaled’s famous poster yielding a gun and draped in a keffiyeh, but also in every day struggle and resistance. Animated cartoons of Palestinian artist Naji al-Ali tell the viewer about the Israeli invasion and it’s destruction. The raw simplicity of the animations adds commanding layers to the film. We meet women who were imprisoned and women whose husbands were imprisoned while the women tended to their families. How can this be shown without physical memorabilia? They are no longer incarcerated and the houses have been rebuilt. When the women burned their tents in protest and refusal against their living conditions, they literally became the animated superheroes of their kingdom.

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His Royal Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum portrait sits next to a portrait of the Royal Thai family, a requirement in Thailand

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IN SEARCH OF “GOLDEN” CINEMA AT THE DOHA TRIBECA FILM FESTIVAL by sophie chamas

ike cattle, members of the press at the Doha Tribeca Film Festival were herded into the press centre, where we spent a good portion of the four-day event. I wasted time I had intended for interviews wandering around confused, trying to figure out if the professional journalists around me were also clueless or if I, a mere doe-eyed amateur, was simply out of my league. To my relief I wasn’t alone in the dark. Even before the red carpet was dusted off and laid out, the festival had begun on an awkward note – from the perspective of the press at least. We received the press schedule and media guidelines the evening before the start of the festival, prompting several outraged emails. Later, press conferences were cancelled without notice. Interviews were scheduled with filmmakers that we – or at least most of us – were not made aware of. Press screenings, interviews and conferences overlapped, making it impossible to adequately savour the selection of events available to us. Moreover, for reasons unknown, press screenings were not arranged for most of the films competing in the Arab Film Competition, leaving the press conferences held on their behalf embarrassingly empty and awkwardly silent. The press conference for the Arab Documentary Film Competition was cancelled altogether for a “lack of media interest,” I was told. How members of the press could be expected to show an interest in films they hadn’t seen was beyond me. Not only was this debacle frustrating for reporters, it was somewhat insulting to the filmmakers, who found it (rightfully) difficult to hide their annoyance. Film has the power to change lives. This, tells us Amanda Palmer (executive director of the Doha Film Institute (DFI)), is DFI’s “founding belief”. The prologue to the festival’s film guide, written by Palmer, gives one the impression that DFI is primarily concerned with changing lives through Middle Eastern films. Palmer focuses mainly on the Arab Film Competition and emphasises the importance of honouring and promoting contemporary and artistic modes of Middle Eastern self-expression in a region currently gripped by a historic revolutionary fervour. “We welcome you,” she writes, “to be moved by laughter, tears and debate by films that speak to a region and world in the midst of prolific and epochal change.” But inexplicably, it is these independent, Middle Eastern films that the festival claims to celebrate which were effectively snubbed - shoved out of the way to make room for Western films like The Help. Even the awards ceremony for the Arab Film Competition was put together haphazardly and, once again, without notifying the press whose role it is to help spread the word about these lesser known regional films greatly deserving of international attention – especially

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at this most significant of historical moments. In actuality, the festival hosted a wonderful selection of Middle Eastern films, making it even more tragic that they were overshadowed by a marketing campaign aimed at gearing both press and audience towards mediocre but more internationally known productions. I can’t see how any lives might have been changed or even slightly dented by the festival’s spotlight film and DFI’s first international co-production, Black Gold. The film first came to my attention weeks before the festival, as I drove past four recognisable faces plastered across a massive black and white billboard that cupped part of Qatara – the “cultural village” that houses DFI. Antonio Banderas, Frieda Pinto, Mark Strong and Tahar Rahim poised contemplatively for the on-going stream of cars, creating an air of seriousness and depth to envelop their anticipated film, described as: “a sweeping historical epic set against the dramatic backdrop of the Arabian Peninsula in the

1930s…The tale of two rival Emirs, the oil that came between them and the young, dynamic leader who rose to unite the desert tribes.” What excited me most about that billboard was its least known face: Tahar Rahim. Still fresh in my mind was the memory of his captivating performance in Jacques Adriard’s 2009 French film, Un Prophète. Unfortunately, not even an actor as promising as Rahim could redeem the mediocre Black Gold. The film can best be described as a caricature of the Arab world. It tells the story of two Emirs “somewhere in Arabia” – one desperate for modernity and the wealth and prosperity it promises, the other clinging to tradition and the ways of his ancestors – the discovery of oil that catapulted them and their opposing ideals into war, and the shy Librarian-Prince who emerges as a leader capable of striking a balance between modernity and tradition. During the press conference with the film’s cast and crew, producer Tarek Ben Ammar proudly emphasized the fact that the Tunisian revolution broke out in the midst of filming. The film, he claimed, was partially inspired by the momentum of the Arab Spring. It was a cinematic nod in solidarity with this historic moment. But contrary to such statements, the film felt more like an homage to Hollywood films of the 1950s and 60s set in the exotic “Orient” and saturated with problematic over-simplifications and stereotypes. My issue with Black Gold is not that it portrays Arabs in a negative light – on the contrary, it makes a concerted effort to do the opposite. But, a film about the Arab world should not be judged based on how positively it portrays Arabs, despite how tempting this might be in a world where the spectre of the Angry Arab looms large. Rather, a film about this much-misunderstood region should be judged on its ability to communicate complexity and nuance, and on its willingness to raise questions rather than provide clear-cut answers. Black Gold gives us Tahar Rahim’s benevolent Prince Awda who is intelligent, educated and gentle with his wife. However, it also takes complex issues that have a contemporary resonance in the Arab world – such as the relationship between Islam and modernity, the socio-political and economic role of oil in the region, Arab-Western relations, and the dynamics of gender in the area – and strips them of their nuances, contradictions and detailed historical contexts. It simplifies them to such a degree that it rids them of substance and modern relevance, transforming them into stick figure versions of the real thing. Ben Ammar explained that they wanted to address elements that continue to be central to the modern Arab world. But, in trying so hard to abstract these issues, in giving us “Arabia” rather than a specific Arab locale, in breaking the significant historical moment that was the early twentieth century down to “someone found oil and not everybody liked it,” in whittling the colonial context down to one lone American,

in providing us with an “Islam for dummies” version of the religion and an image of the harem as Frieda Pinto dressed like Jasmine peering out a window at the world beyond, the film comes off more like a Disney-type fairy tale than a serious period piece. The aim of the film, I think, is to provide an entertaining story – one with a suspenseful climax and a happy ending, villains and heroes - to be presented to a mainstream Western audience assumed to be curious about the Arab world but not willing or ready to be seriously challenged and made to feel the emotional discomfort that comes with a film that deals with a historical moment and its conditions of possibility masterfully. During the press conference, I hoped to hear a convincing reason as to why, at a moment when the region is bursting at the seams with cinematic talent, Ben Ammar and the film’s director Jean-Jacques Annaud, chose to cast primarily non-Arab actors in the lead roles. Ben Ammar tried hard to sell the idea that this was done for quality’s sake. When he first saw British actor Mark Strong, he explained, playing the Jordanian chief of police in Body of Lies, he turned to a friend and asked, “who is this wonderful Arab actor?” He was so impressed with Strong’s apparently convincing performance as an Arab that he had to cast him as Ammar, Awda’s father and the Emir fighting to keep the Westerners out of Arabia. Strong is a more than adequate actor and did the best he could with the mediocre lines assigned to him. But, to say that he was cast because he makes such a convincing Arab or that Antonio Banderas was the ideal choice for the greedy Emir Nassib because of his Andalusian roots, and so forth, is taking it a little too far. After all, Arabs also make convincing Arabs and have slightly more recent ties to the region than Banderas’ ancestral ones. For a producer who spent a good portion of the press conference discussing the importance of turning the Arab world into a cinematic hub and fostering regional talent, Ben Ammar failed to deliver, giving us instead a Western film about the region, not a “Middle Eastern epic”, complete with A-list names to draw in audiences and big bucks, not artistic legitimacy. Rather than being swept away by the “epic” Black Gold, I found myself taken with much more “localised” and parochial films. In being “limited” to small villages, alleys, and the particularities of a given family, these films spoke more to me about the societies and historical contexts in which their narratives are entrenched than Black Gold, with its abstract tropes, did. For example, How Big is your Love, an Algerian film by Fatma Zohra Zamoum, follows Adel, a young boy in modern day Algiers, as he adjusts to his parents’ separation while being awkwardly comforted by his grandparents, with whom he has been sent to live. The film’s charm lies in its focus on the mundane activities of everyday life through which familial relationships are nurtured. It is, in a sense, these collective, routine activities that make up the most intimate aspects of familial life: repetitive bodily practices that we flow through alongside those we feel most comfortable around, momentarily free from the social layers we parade around in publicly and the neurotic thoughts that guide so many of us awkwardly through this modern, fast-paced world. We watch Adel and his grandparents adjust to one another and navigate the new dynamics of their relationship as they carefully prepare lunches, buy new wallpaper for Adel’s room, take trips to the zoo and make couscous from scratch. Sharing these private, everyday moments with the viewer communicates wonderfully the kind of affectionate bond that is unique to familial, cross-generational relations. Like most people I thoroughly enjoyed Nadine Labaki’s, Where do we go from here? Her film pushed all the right buttons: I cried; I laughed heartily; and I felt simultaneously proud and ashamed to be Lebanese – happy to see such great work coming out of my country, and frustrated with the sectarian reality the film poignantly highlights. I think one of the marks of an exceptional artist is the ability to take a topic that has been discussed ad nauseam and do something original and unexpected with it, highlighting it in a refreshingly new light and in so doing, shaking those of us who have become desensitised to it out of our grogginess. Nothing quite like a musical about sectarianism in which hash plays the role of peacebroker to do just that. Two other films that left quite an impression on me were Khaled El Hagar’s, Lust and Yasemin Samdereli’s, Almanya – Welcome to Germany. Lust is set in an impoverished neighbourhood in Alexandria. It tells the story of one woman’s desperate attempt to yank her family out of squalor. The film tries, explained El Hagar during a press

LEFT Nadine Labaki at the “She is Film” panel RIGHT Jean-Jacques Annaud K A L I M AT

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the first lady of arabic hip hop

text and photos RAWAN RISHEQ

TOP Eshooq BOTTOM LEFT Antonio Banderas BOTTOM RIGHT Tarek Ben Ammar

just hip-hop, it’s bigger than music, its an idea. Julian Mer Khamis was, as you might know, murdered in April. He was also an idea; they killed a person, but there are millions of Juliano Mer Khamises - we’re three of them standing here on this stage. So, you cant just kill one person, you don’t even know what you’re killing. That also goes for Vittorio Arrigoni, the Italian activist who was murdered in Gaza in the same week as Juliano. I just came from Rome a few days ago, and there is a huge hip hop scene in Italy as well, a very revolutionary spirit - not just in Rome, but because I was there that was the impression that I got. Really, as I said, there are a million other Vittorio Arrigonis, so you can kill one person but you can never kill an idea. That’s really my analysis on Arabic hip hop. The Canadian audience members (AM) then went on to address her with issues of their own personal experiences related to their various backgrounds, and posed questions on how to strengthen their solidarity. AM: I’m from Somalia so we too have been victims of US foreign policy - the solidarity is there. I wanted to know, just from watching the movie, how do you move beyond the anger you feel towards Israel into something more productive, or what can people here in Canada do to alleviate the pain?

conference, to communicate a universal message through a very local story. And indeed, the very particular tale of Sawsan Badr’s Imm Shooq does quake with an unsettling universal relevance. El Hagar takes the most benevolent of archetypes, the mother, and shows us how unfortunate circumstances can eat away at her humanity, transforming her into something unrecognisable and horrifying. She starts off as a victim of a State that, while not directly addressed in the film, lingers in the background like a kind of invisible puppet master, setting up the conditions of possibility for the plot’s devastating progression. We watch as Imm Shooq, one example of millions of neglected Egyptians, loses her son to kidney failure after being unable to afford his dialysis, triggering a descent into darkness. Accompanied by a trail of chilling music, we watch what began as innocent begging meant to raise money for her dying son, slowly consume her. Gradually we see the money she gathers corrupt her. Her original desire to help her family evolves into a yearning to control all those around her by buying their submission. Her obsession leads to her tragic end. To El Hagar, Imm Shooq is a personification of the Egyptian government and the horrifying consequences that accompany the misuse of power. The film shows us how appalling living circumstances, such as those in which Imm Shooq and her family are mired, can enable behaviour that those of us leading comfortable existences are incapable of fathoming. I walked away from this film with its footprint sitting heavy on my chest, a reminder of its powerful message. Samdereli’s Almanya also deals with an issue of 62

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global resonance on the much smaller scale of one family. This heart-warming film begins with a Turkish family in present-day Germany whose roots in the country begin with the elderly Patriarch and thread down to his young, third-generation, halfTurkish grandson. It is the story of the charming idiosyncrasies that colour multi-generational immigrant families and the difficulty involved in trying to keep one’s heritage and culture alive in a foreign country, as the links to the “motherland” are gradually watered down with every new generation. We join the young grandson in listening to his grandfather recount his hilarious tale of immigration – his first encounter with a Western toilet, his initial horror at the idea of domesticated dogs, etc. And we follow the whole family to Turkey where the grandfather introduces the young toddler to that Anatolia he’d heard so much about. The film serves as a thoughtful meditation on the way heritage and culture get translated from generation to generation, increasingly blending with others in this globalised world of hybrids - never dying, as it is often said, but transforming, adjusting and being constantly reborn as something not quite the same, but not entirely different either. In the end, I would label the festival a success in terms of the majority of the films it screened, and misguided in what it chose to spotlight. It is a young festival in a country that only recently dipped a toe into the arena of arts and cultural development, so its errors are understandable. I hope that, in the future, it does a better job of sticking to its stated purpose: supporting regional talent.

SM: I think it’s really important that now people in Palestine are aware of their own situation. When you go there you’ll see for yourself - you’ll witness everything you’ve ever read about, you’ve ever heard about going on there. But really, now we’re in a different phase of awareness, of enlightenment. I think now it’s a global revolution. It’s the revolution of the mind - you need to spread the message, in any profession, it doesn’t have to be music. If you’re a painter, a writer, whatever you do, I think that you should channel whatever is going on in Palestine into what you do, and that may be a contribution. I believe in any way - it doesn’t have to be music, it doesn’t have be as vocal as what we are doing - any kind of expression. You know what is even scarier for the Zionist ideology and culture? What you see in the film - this is the Third Intifada. We’ve been talking about the Third Intifada, and it’s not Meet Shadia Mansour. Dubbed the first lady of Arabic hip hop, a battlefield with guns and weapons, this is the Third Intifada. This is she is a UK-born artist of Palestinian origin who has chosen to express her an element of the Third Intifada. identity and protect the culture of her displaced nation through her lyrics. The first time I saw her was when a friend sent me the music video of her AM: I once wrote a paper on Israel/Palestine in my last year of high hit track Il Kuffiyeh Il Arabiyeh (The Arabic Scarf), and even through the school. At that time, I was neutral in a school with a Muslim majority, video she made my hairs stand on end. The second time was at the Toronto which is not easy to say or do in that perspective, but I tried to research Palestine Film Festival’s (TPFF) screening of her sister’s documentary entitled it from both sides. To tell you the truth, there’s a lot going on inside Hip Hop is Bigger than the Occupation, which followed Shadia and fellow Israel itself, I don’t believe that Israelis themselves want the occupation; hip hop artists as they toured Palestine to perform, conduct workshops for I’ve seen a lot of them go against the Netanyahu government in terms of children under occupation, and interact with the local communities. Following protests against the occupation of Palestine. I don’t think we should see the film, she stepped onto the stage in sweatpants and a t-shirt that read the Israelis as enemies themselves, but we should look at the government “Same shit, different Saddam”. From that moment, her presence captured who are being the oppressors and not look at the people as a source of me for the rest of the night; her humble appearance was refreshing, and her conflict. I’m talking from experience, being from a Muslim country as commanding words are worth sharing although I have yet to engage with well. I’m from Malaysia, and that country itself has a lot of oppression her. Her first statement was in response to a request to analyse the Arabic against the Indian and Chinese populations who have been living there hip-hop scene inside Palestine: for generations. We make up 6% of the population, but we basically get segregated, so that’s what I’m trying to say; it’s a whole problem there. SM: When I first started, there wasn’t really a strong female presence, but every time I go back, it’s growing and growing and growing. It’s not just the SM: About how we shouldn’t think that Israelis are the enemies, that’s females, it’s the new generation out there that’s really growing and getting not the impression that was intended in the documentary. Yes, there are stronger. It’s a revolution and for me, I consider Arabic hip hop the “CNN” of people in Israel, there are Israelis, who are joining the anti-apartheid our generation. What you saw in the film is not something that just happened demonstrations against the government, but it’s not enough. There aren’t a year ago, it’s something that’s growing every day, and it’s an idea, it’s not enough people. There were over 300,000 Israelis the other month who K A L I M AT

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were protesting against the government because they were disadvantaged and they were inconvenienced. They would protest for social reforms, but their country is still an occupying force. I don’t understand how within a month 300,000 people can come out and protest and completely occupy streets, with tents and bring out their families, but they can’t do that against the apartheid wall. So, the intention isn’t to say Israelis are the enemies, the intention is to say that we need more Israelis to stand on the other side of the wall and protest against the occupation. Maybe from my anger in my music it may come off that way, but at the end of the day I live in Haifa, my parents are from Haifa, Palestine. So when I go there I have to pledge allegiance, which I don’t, but I am expected to pledge allegiance to the Israeli government. My parents were born under the British Mandate of Palestine, my parents have Palestinian passports, so how can I ever call Haifa Israel? How can I ever call Haifa Israel? I’d be insulting my parents. I also know Israelis within ‘48 territories; there are a lot who are not standing with the apartheid government, but they’re also not standing against, because they want to stay neutral and keep their house and keep their garden there. There are so many different types of people just like all around the world. It’s not a very big place, it’s very overpopulated, and there are enough Arab Israelis - I don’t like to call them that, Palestinians living under the Israeli government; they dominate the Jewish population in the 1948 territories. Obviously, 64

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we’re asking more Israelis to come out and so you’ll see more Arabs out too. The Jews you’re talking about who are standing with us, I know them; there are a lot of Jews that want peace, that’s a natural thing for a human to feel, but over there at the end of the day, there just aren’t enough people standing on the right side of the wall. My music can give that impression because I can get emotional, but I’m part of the Palestinian diaspora; it’s even more frustrating for me to see Israelis in London doing counter-protests on the days when we are trying to commemorate nine murdered Turkish activists who were slaughtered on the flotilla in May 2009. That makes me sick, and I think no, they need to understand, even if it’s in a harsh manner, that we’re coming with facts and statistics, especially artists like Marcel Cartier and Lowkey, and that should be enough to enlighten more Israelis. AM: First of all thank you, this has been really amazing. I’d like to welcome you to the land that the settlers call “Canada”. I’m from Moose Creek First Nation. I’m an indigenous Canadian. This is not my land specifically this area, but I guess what I wanted to ask was - well, first a comment: I started learning about Palestine about three or four years ago, I didn’t really understand what the big deal was. I started reading more and more and I have a lot of friends teaching me on this learning path. Something I came to tell myself was, “oh my god, they gave them fake borders, they gave them Palestinians cards and said that this is the only way you can be Palestinians, they gave us the same kind of fake borders, they gave us cards and said this is the only way that

you can be an Indian”. So, it just makes sense to me; how can you not support Palestinian people as an indigenous person in Canada? How can you not support Palestinian people as someone living in a colonised land? So I guess my actual question is how do you think we can strengthen the bridge from Turtle Island (the original name of North and South America by its indigenous inhabitants before colonisation) to Palestine? SM: When I go to a country I always like to pay my respect to the natives. So, when I went to Montreal in June I went to Kahnawake, I went to visit Mohawk nation, and I met the real Montrealers there. I just want to share my experience with you because it was amazing. The first house belonged to - I don’t know if you guys have heard of Clifton Nicolas, he’s a comrade. I went with a group of people and when I walked into his living room he had a huge Palestinian flag hanging down from his front room ceiling, and he gave me their tribal flag as well. When I arrived in Toronto today, I asked where there is a reservation, but we couldn’t arrange it quick enough because we’re only here for a few hours. So, I think if you ever come to “Israel”, if you come to Palestine as an Indian, I’d advise you to visit the West Bank, ’48 (territories), and Jerusalem, all of Palestine. And that’s really how I see us bridging the gap: it’s getting handson with the situation. It’s not enough to go to protests, put up a banner and shout “Free Free Palestine”. I think we talk about revolution, but really being a revolutionary is something you do, just like hip hop, and we have to exercise it. That’s my advice really - it’s to actually

go and visit and leave a mark, you know, mark your territory, not in a colonising way. The third time I saw Shadia had the most impact: I shyly asked her if she would mind doing a short interview with Kalimat before she had to perform as part of the closing night ceremonies. We huddled into the staircase of the Pilot bar with music sneaking in through the gap under the closed door. There, I turned on my recorder, despite her initial apprehension on being recorded, she seemed to have quickly warmed up to me after I explained what we at Kalimat were all about, and mentioned that I too was originally from Haifa. RR: How was it breaking into the Arabic hip hop scene as a woman and into the international scene as an Arab? Which was harder or what were some of the challenges you faced? SM: I guess breaking into the Arabic hip hop scene as a woman wasn’t really as big of a challenge for me because I had a lot of support from the male MCs - just because it was predominantly male Arabic hip hop artists. I was motivated by them, and that really was my boost into Arabic hip hop. It wasn’t until I started going to Arab countries and performing, confronting more conservative communities, that the challenges began for me. Being a female hip hop artist and trying to be accepted in our own communities I’d say is harder than trying to be accepted in the international community. It’s not so much just being a female, it’s about the type of subjects that you’re presenting as well; politics seems quite a masculine subject to most conservative communities, and breaking that barrier, yes, I’d say it’s

slightly harder than breaking into Western hip hop. RR: How and when did you know that music was your form of expression about Palestinian oppression? SM: It didn’t start with music - I come from a revolutionary family, a humanitarian background - it started at protests, it started in personal family discussions, it started definitely at protests in London and I started singing at these protests, you know, I was a one-woman band. That kind of escalated into spoken word hip hop, and when I was a teenager 9/11 happened and then everyone knew where Palestine was on the map, everyone knew what an Arab was, everyone was familiar with the word. So, I felt like our image was being distorted and I kind of injected my own pride into my music. That’s really the message behind my music: defending our culture, defending our identity. Especially me, someone like me who was brought up in the West, who can easily lose their culture and their identity because we’re forcefully integrated into a Western society. For me, I’m Arab, my name is Arab, I feel Arab, I think Arab, so I choose to express myself in Arabic. On that note, I had the privilege of then witnessing Shadia in her element as she sang and rapped in Arabic, shaking me to my core. In her voice, I heard my own, and felt finally like someone understood me.

CULTURE

CELEBRATING SAMIRA SAID

by FARIS HABAYEB

CULTURE

Kinship in Arab Cinema: Rasha Salti on the myth of a Radical Rupture by RAWAN HADID

RH: This three-part programme aims to map the largely unknown heritage of personal, artistic and experimental cinema from the Arab world. Could you very briefly discuss the different facets you have focused on for the three years, and what your overall curatorial intent has been?

er voice is unmistakably dogmatic, soaring for many a decade of Arabic song. Her look and sound is a tradition of relentless trend - yet she is a classic act in her own right, a presence that is filled with a unique femininity and a strapping vocal range that has pervaded through time. At her simplest, Samira Said can be characterised as a “diva”. Her lengthy dossier can position her along the ranks of the ostentatious, perhaps landing her a two-year, 70-show contract in the Arab region’s Las Vegas—otherwise known as Dubai. But this is Said’s worst-case scenario, and frankly, that sort of arrangement would be better suited to someone belonging to Rotana’s army of insipid artists. When celebrated, Said is an ambassador of the ballad and the anthem. Her voice can be a wet ripple, deeply reverberant in the most sombre of tunes, or, shatteringly assertive and modern, unleashing gusto unexpected from a singer in her fifties. Redefining the contemporary Arabic song, Said has continued to break the music grid in her discography that now spans more than 30 years in the making. Said has jazz, show tunes, dance, and oriental, all cinched under her Moroccan belt. Yet she is always evolving, shifting the Arabic song in its structure and exhibition. A realist, Said has nullified the fairy tale hymns of everlasting love, a musical rhetoric that is forever engrained in the Arabic song. Ezzay Aheb (How Am I Supposed to Love?) is a jaded hip-hop ditty that indulges in Said’s inability to devote and love like others do. This sensibility has contributed to a rising number of Arab female artists bringing forth a form of street-smart credence. Call it a mild form of feminism if you will, but Said is not strictly angry and man hating. When Arabic pop bores the listener with a humdrum habibi (my love) refrain, Said reconstructs the experience with scat and a vivacious employment of her voice as percussion. Said has come a long way from her iconic pan-Arab debut in the eighties. Iconically recalled in a pink-layered dress with magenta lips, singing Moch Atnazel Annak (I Won’t Give You Up), Said’s artistic journey began almost a decade prior. She

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represented her native Morocco in the Eurovision Song Contest with Bitaqat Hob (Love Card). The only Arabic song entered thus far into the competition. A detonating firework, she was ushered into Cairo, conquering the music scene with Abdul Halim Hafez and Baligh Hamdi’s backing. In the past decade Said has released three records, a humble achievement in comparison to counterparts in the Arab music industry. Her most recent, Ayam Hayati (Days of My Life) (2008) concluded a contract with Mohsen Jaber’s label Alam El Phan. Seemingly in artistic purgatory, she is yet to be signed to a label. Nonetheless, in the past year, a collaboration with Marrakesh hip-hop trio Fnaïre brought forth a notable ripple in her musical CV. Said’s music is often discredited for almost exclusively being Egyptian in its lyrical delivery. The single, “Be a Winner” is an urban ode to self-empowerment, infusing English and Moroccan rap alongside Said’s arabesque trilling. Amidst heavy rumours circulating that the next record will be personally sponsored, Said has graced the stages of Star Academy and a few Arab summer music festivals this year, mildly satiating fans of her presence. Said maintains a presence on Facebook and I follow her on Twitter. TWITTER: @Samira_Said FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/samirasaid

RS: Extensive research preceded the selection of the program. We had to celebrate the plurality of voices, as well as highlight or privilege kinships between works/filmmakers across generations and countries. If you think of our threepart programme as a platform, the idea was to showcase as diverse, plural and yet cogent a programme as possible. Besides deciding to articulate the programme in three editions, we also organised within each edition “clusters”, or series of films and videos that seemed to be in a conversation, or share an interesting kinship. The curatorial intent is very much what the programme’s title spells out, namely to map how filmmakers have articulated their subjectivity in film and video. RH: I look at this year’s programme, and while found footage, archives and icons are absolutely running themes, I sense a lot of revolutionary undertones. For example, the programme opened with Waqai’ Sanawat al-Jamr (Chronicles of the Years of Embers). I can’t help but wonder if this is a coincidence or if the Arab Spring played a role in your selection? Is this meant to challenge prevailing views about revolution and push people to revisit how they think about Arab revolutions in the same way that the rest of the programming tries to propose an alternative artistic historical map? RS: You are absolutely right in making a connection between the Arab Spring and Chronicles of the Years of Embers. Like every programmer looking at Arab cinema in 2011, we could neither dispel the attraction, nor the expectation of addressing the Arab Spring. While by the time we were locking this year’s programme, there were films about–and from–the Arab spring circulating in festivals We did not feel these works fit the purview of Mapping Subjectivity. In fact we sensed it was too soon in time and in relation to the events for us to expect a strongly subjective take on such overwhelming historic moments. We were in Algeria and we looked at “Chronicle”—it was after all the seminal film, that told the story of the first revolution in the Arab world, from within. “The Battle of Algiers” has received more attention of late, and with all due respect to Gilo Pontecorvo’s magnificent effort, “Chronicle” had established the canon. Moreover, we learned that in spite of the fact that the film won the Palme d’Or it had only screened in New York once, in 1996. So it seemed to make sense that we render our homage to the Arab spring and inaugurate our second edition with the film. You are also absolutely right in seeing that the rest of the programme invites to consider an alternative history, using video and film that engage with archival footage of all kind. It’s wonderful to see that our curatorial approach is so decipherable!

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RH: Would you say that experimentation in cinema is in itself a form of revolt or revolution? RS: Definitely. If the word revolution is excessive, certainly revolt or insurgency are appropriate. It is important to note that these films were each produced in a specific context, informed and enriched by other artistic fields: poetry, visual art, theatre, music and literature. In some of the films, like “Tahya Ya Didou”, you can see the intimate connection to poetry because Momo, one of the main protagonists, recites poetry all the time, and his verse seem to drive the film’s narrative. Ahmed Bouanani was also very inspired from poetry and literature, he wrote and published verse and short stories himself. And finally a number of the short films we included in this edition are also video installation works. In other words, their authors/makers straddle both worlds of cinema and contemporary art.

RH: At the MOMA panel, you mentioned that you hope critics and scholars will revisit and rethink prevailing theories or the way we are taught to think about Arab Cinema. Could you expand on that a little bit? RS: So far, chroniclers and scholars of Arab cinema have tended to draw more North-South connections; for instance, there is a mapping of how the French New Wave and Italian Neo-Realist schools inspired Arab filmmakers, and these are true. They are based on narratives of filmmakers testifying to what or how they were influenced. There are practically no South-South connections that are acknowledged or taken into account, for instance how the nascent African cinema impacted Algerian, Egyptian or Syrian filmmakers, or how Brazil’s Cinema Novo influenced North African cinema. Even the influence of the VGIK (the film school in Moscow) is barely acknowledged. I say this because while filmmakers have told their stories, the places where the most exciting encounters took place, even by their own account, were neither Paris, nor Cannes, nor Rome. They were the Algiers Cinémathèque, or the Pan-African Film Festival in 1969 in Algeria, FESPACO, the Cairo International Film Festival, the Journées Cinématographiques of Carthage, Assila Festival in Morocco, etc. In other words, film historians and theorists have not tried to investigate how the encounters and the conversations that took place there have inspired works. In Mapping Subjectivity we wanted to draw attention to kinships in style, form, approach and motif that might not be explained in a straightforward interpretive framework of a transmission

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across generations and geography. Arab cinema is not accessible to Arabs across time and space. That is one of its biggest tragedies. The Cinémathèque of Algiers holds close to 10,000 films. What of these have Algerians seen in the past decade? Extremely few. What of these have Egyptians seen? None. Not only is the exchange between two archives in neighbouring Arab countries practically non-existent, there is no cinémathèque in Cairo (the capital of Arab cinema), and definitely not a single art house cinema. The same goes for Damascus. Non-mainstream films are not available on DVD. Very, very few are available on the market of pirated films. Even fewer are broadcast on satellite TV stations that screen films 24 hours on 24. All this to say, that due to structural reasons, the theory of how generations of Arab filmmakers develop an acquaintance with their region’s film legacy does not quite hold. And yet there are tangible kinships, recurring motifs, a shared poetics. Film historians and theorists of Arab cinema have to engage them one way or another. RH: Again, at the panel, you discussed the national moment and post-national moment, the modern moment and the postmodern moment. The programme tries to challenge traditional theorisations about these moments in Arab cultural production, by finding parallels and insisting on an artistic kinship between generations of filmmakers. Could you tell our readers a little bit more about this? RS: There is an overwhelming notion of a “rupture” between generations of artists, the modernists and the post-modernists. This notion comes from artists’ own narratives. The post-modernists were rejected by their “fathers” or predecessors, the modernists. Established critics contributed to that rift as well, and did not take the post-modernists seriously enough, quickly enough. The reasons for this “rupture” has to do with a complex and multi-layered set of circumstances, factors, situations, changing conditions of production, modes of dissemination and conception. The painters have taken a great deal of time to accept video, installation and conceptual art as art, and vice versa, the conceptual, installation and video artists have taken a great deal of time to accept painting as a valid contemporary artistic practice. The same rift existed in cinema. The advent of digital technology and Final Cut Pro enabled a generation to make films at a tenth of the cost of a 16mm or 35mm. For instance, in Egypt, the Cairo International Film Festival was not able to include Egyptian digitally-shot films under the category of “films”, and opted to institute a section in their programme titled “digital cinema” rather than revisit the definition of “cinema”. The question of medium is, ultimately, superficial in itself, but it is everything else that comes with the digital medium that instigated tension. Video art is lightweight and speaks a language that painting does not for the most part. It also exhibits, communicates and disseminates in an entirely different manner. To some, it was undecipherable, and to others it was authentically contemporary. The lack of communication between generations of artists was experienced as contempt, disregard, a radical rupture in transmission from one “tradition” to “another”. In Mapping Subjectivity, we proposed a programme that did not take into consideration this rupture. We basically gave primacy to the works, and our readings of the works and assembled films made in Algeria in the 1970s with video art works made in Lebanon in the 1990s, or in Morocco this year. As to the “national” and “post-national” moments I identified in that presentation, they are remarks on distinctions between filmmakers using the first person, those who speak in the plural

form (the national “we” or “us”) and those who use the singular (the post-national “I” or “me”). While I hate to impose a linear chronology, my remark was that the generations working in the 1960s and 1970s used the first person plural, speaking in the voice of a collective or community –hence challenging official discourse or rewriting a history in the name of society– whereas the generations working in the 1990s and 2000s use the first person singular, underscoring the breakdown of a possible “we” or society, political parties... RH: You also said that it was more natural to have Goddard visit Syria in the 70s than to have a Syrian in Cannes today - a commentary on the changes in the North/South conversation in the last 40 or 50 years. I think such changes are paralleled in activist/revolutionary. Could you comment on this? Do you perceive any new shifts? Does the Mapping Subjectivity film programme consider this divide? RS: North-South relations have not been operating on an even keel since the North developed colonial ambitions towards the South. My remark was really about how modern artists–not sure about the activists–saw themselves in the world. Since the end of WWII, or more precisely the 1950s and until the end of the 1970s, the understanding of modern art in our region was that it was a “project” where everyone could contribute equally because our “traditions” had held the keys or were the inspiration to, cubism, abstraction, etc. By the admission of such masters of modernism as Picasso, Gauguin, Matisse, and so many others, Islamic art (whether calligraphy or miniatures), African art and Japanese art had opened their eyes to possibilities of rendering and representation they had never imagined before. Modernism had a universalist tenor, and a belief/idealism that a new world, equitable, just and prosperous was possible with technological progress, modern sovereign state structures, etc. Artists from the Arab world imagined themselves in a conversation with their western peers, as well as with their eastern peers. That illusion or fiction was shattered in the 1970s. Today, the terms of engagement are openly uneven, and these translate to how structures in the west engage with contemporary artists. I am generalising of course, but let’s say that a city like Munich will not engage with Arab artists unless there is a specific grant to “dialogue” or “host” artists from Islamic societies or explore contemporary art from Islamic societies. The purview is much too often geo-cultural. In fact, some artists see themselves on an even keel with western artists and see their artistic practice not to be strictly an “epiphenomena” of their political-social-cultural environment, and turn down invitations that acknowledge the geo-cultural framing of “Arab” or “Muslim” worlds. The Mapping Subjectivity film programme grappled with that problem because it only engages the Arab world, and acknowledges that geo-cultural framing in its title. In a few instances we have had to convince artists and filmmakers that our curatorial vision was to challenging geo-cultural framing by undermining “the canons”, proposing alternative histories and theorising of Arab cinema and including in the third and final edition films by non-Arab filmmakers on the Arab world... Our arguments have been convincing so far.

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Current CULTURE Affairs

Mohem? Aham! Review of Nagham Masry’s Mesh Mohem by NAIRA BADAWI

think it’s safe to say that I’m pretty uptight when it comes to music. I’ll listen to all kinds, but I admit it’s almost physically impossible for me to utter the words, “That was perfect.” As far as I can remember, the most recent bit of music I thought was “perfect” was Mohammed Mounir’s “Etkalemy,” and that came out in 1983 before I was even born. Don’t get me wrong; there have been some absolutely genius musical creations in the last 20 years. To me, an extremely miniscule portion of it could even remotely be classified as perfect. And to me, Mesh Mohem (Not Important), by Nagham Masry, is perfect. Nagham Masry’s oriental-jazz fusion is tremendously refreshing; the minute it’s played, you can’t help but wonder where has this group been all my life? Well, apparently the group was originally and haphazardly formed in 1999. However, band members come and go like money and, in the end only, some stick around for the long haul. The group currently consists of eight members, Ousso and Sherbini being the front-runners of the group. Ousso told me that the entire project was started in an effort to, “Showcase very Egyptian melodies and words with some serious and honest music!” What’s remarkable about this band is that they’ve managed to fabricate a perfectly-balanced combination of Egyptian folklore, classical Arab sounds, and modern jazzy, almost funkified beats. Qanoun (zither) and oud (lute), played by Sherif Kamal and Shady Sharaf, beautifully complement the drums, keyboard, bass and percussion played by Amr Khairy, Faisal Fouad, Samer George and Hany Bedair, respectively. Each and every member contributes greatly to the beautiful soundscape surrounding Sherbini’s raw, yet refined, guttural vocals. Noting that the album took eleven years to complete is definitely “Mohem.” Thanks to the less than despicable nature of the mainstream music industry in not just Egypt, but the entire Arab region, Ousso took it upon himself to do absolutely

“stupid.” “I didn’t really care about what people would think when they heard a rock guitar solo right after Salah Jahin lyrics!” he said with indifference. Well, the people love it, man. The title may give off the notion of nonchalance but the album is actually dripping in positive messages. You got problems? “Mesh Mohem” (it’s not important), you can get past it. Makes me smile. These guys stuffed the album with some of the most beautiful poetry written by some of the most celebrated Egyptian poets to ever hold a pen. The album starts off with a quite a bang. Salah Jahin’s perfectly put words are supported and put to life by intricate and beautifully played guitar chords. Sherbini’s voice carries our beloved poet’s lines wonderfully and adds a much-needed Egyptian flare to the listener’s day. Pay close attention: if you want a bona fide “eargasm,” listen carefully to the golden nugget of sound in the opening track’s second minute. The fact that qanoun is my all-time favourite instrument makes this sound snippet that much more self-indulgent in my perspective, but you don’t have to be as obsessed with the qanoun as I am to appreciate the depth of those few seconds. I could write about how beautiful “2 Sabahan” from here ‘til 2 AM. I’m a sucker for anything Ahmed Fouad Negm, a poet famous for his stark depictions of anything relating to Egypt. “Allah Hai” is another memorable track off of the thirteen-track album. The Dervish aesthetic is heightened with every “Allah hai” rhythmically kneaded into the instrumental. I don’t know which is better, the qanoun solo or the guitar solo. They are both executed with sublime finesse and you won’t be able to get enough of either. I guarantee the song will have you involuntarily swaying your head from side to side. In line with “Allah Hai,” “Hereb el Khasees” possesses almost the same warmth. That “back home” feel to it is just too good to be true. Songs like “Hereb el Khasees,” with the

Pay close attention: if you want a bona fide “eargasm,” listen carefully to the golden nugget of sound in the opening track’s second minute. everything to ensure the record was released exactly the way the group had envisioned it. When I say he did almost everything, I mean it: “The production, arrangement, recording, mixing and mastering was all done at my humble home studio.” Ousso and the band really wanted to create music that was free of “any consideration to the mainstream or what Egyptians are used to, like the tabla (drum) and [the] maksoum (beat),” even going as far as to say that mainstream Arabic music is “cheesy” and

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clapping and the male vocals in unison, are reminiscent of icons such as Mohamed Roshdi or Said Darwish. To some, these lyrics and classic folkloric styles seem outdated, but that’s exactly the reason why mainstream Arabic music today is so atrocious; it steers clear from who we are instead of embracing it. Each track on Mesh Mohem pays tribute to the pure roots of the genius of Arabic music and reminds us of where we came from. Yet they do all this while still keeping their sound fresh and modern.

Our Oriental (sharqi) origin and heritage is further preserved in songs like “Istanbul,” a track dripping in magnificent cultural imagery that is made even more vivid with the help of Sherbini’s strong voice. I assure you, Nagham Masry’s music will forever remain relevant due to the fact that the group tackles universally relevant topics, such as oppression and tyranny. “Qoulo La’a” was likely written for Hosni Mubarak. Expressive and poignant, the hollow sounding melody perfectly seems to allude to the emptiness felt by citizens of Egypt during the ousted dictator’s reign. “Qoulo La’a” essentially applies to any oppressed mass and a song that can achieve such universality has “classic” written all over it. Nagham Masry did not just ride the wave that most quasi-revolutionary musicians were so eager to be a part of. In fact, long before the usurpation of Mubarak’s regime, they’ve been attempting to incite revolution through their lyrics. “We were the only band since ‘99 singing revolutionary songs against the regime,” Ousso said, “And while everyone else was hiding, we were facing a lot of problems with Amn el Dawla (State Security). When the revolution started, I refused to play or ride the wave, I decided that it’s time to fight and stand for our rights.” Unlike some of the musicians who played in Tahrir Square during the revolution, Nagham Masry had always been adamant about a regime change. They’ve been urging people to rise up long before January 25th, 2011. I believe the pièce de résistance of Mesh Mohem is

“El Qal’a.” Perfection can come in degrees and this, to me, is the most perfect of all their songs! If I had heard this song without knowing who performed, I would think it was from a different era. They do justice to Ahmed Fouad Negm, and I think Sheikh Imam would’ve been proud. I feel Bahia (a name for Egypt coined by Ahmed Fouad Negm) in this, it’s a true distillation of “el nagham el Masry” (the songs and melodies of Egypt). From start to finish, the album successfully manages to bring back the tried and true folkloric sounds of Egypt while throwing in some jazz, funk and even blues. Mesh Mohem is free for all to enjoy and can be found on www.egy-bands.blogspot.com. Grab a cup of Turkish coffee, sit in your room alone and take it all in! www.naghammasry.com

CULTURE

a day in cairo

by HEBA ELKAYAL Old man on Muezz street in old Fatimid Cairo. Omar Hikal

ry as one might, it’s quite difficult to be able to claim to know the city of Cairo thoroughly, regardless of how long one lives here. There are too many neighbourhoods, ever changing, sprawled across the seemingly infinite area that composes Cairo. Assorted alleyways, avenues and narrow streets can lead you from one adventure to another across the neighbourhoods of Giza, Abasseya, Zamalek or Old Fatimid Cairo. Whatever it is one might be in search of, whether it’s visiting old Islamic sites, listening to some music played on a oud, an exhibition of contemporary Egyptian art, or a meal with a view of the Nile there’s something to be enjoyed by everyone here in Cairo. Attempting to explore the city of Cairo in one day is ambitious, yet ultimately it can be done if only to get a taste and feel for the myriad of offerings the city has to present. It’s best to start your day early. Aiming to leave your home or hotel by 7am to get to the Giza Pyramids by 8am is necessary so as to avoid one of Cairo’s ghastliest traffic jams on Haram Street on your way back downtown. Enjoy walking around the pyramids for an hour or so - don’t linger too much, but promise yourself you’ll return for a properly organised tour of the pyramids, or else a ride on horseback during sunset. Both experiences are worth the time and trouble of making it out to Giza again and testing your skills at bartering with the men who hire out horses and camels to visitors. If you’d like to stop for a cup of tea or quick breakfast, the old Mena House Oberoi is right by the foot of the Pyramids. Built in 1869 as a hunting lodge for King Isma’il Pasha, it has since been converted into one of Egypt’s grandest hotels, bearing witness to historic events and historic guests. The interiors are fashioned in an Orientalist manner, some pomp and circumstance abound in the long hallways and dining rooms, but regardless, it’s well worth a quick visit. Head back into town and visit the Saladin Citadel. Once a medieval fortification, the complex has expanded on its current location perching over the city since it was first built in 1183. Fantastic views from above of Fatimid Cairo, the centre of Islamic Cairo with Al Azhar Mosque and the Khan il Khalili bazaar below, make for great pictures. You can explore the Mohamed Ali Mosque or walk around the various courtyards. The noise of the city below is dim, and one can clearly make out Al Azhar park to the right. It will perhaps be your last moment of serenity and calm before exploring the charmingly chaotic Khan il Khalili bazaar. Catch a cab to Khan il Khalili and if shopping is on your mind, the rule is always to barter with the vendors for the best price. Bartering, as tiring as it can be, can be half the fun. Brass lanterns, copper ornaments, hand blown tableware and other trinkets make for great gifts and easy home decorating additions, but the beauty and fun of the bazaar is to walk around with eyes open. Ask for directions to El Fishawy Café and recuperate for a short while. Though not the café at which Egyptian writer and Nobel Laureate once sat daily to observe characters and gather stories for his writings, it would have been a very similar experience to Naguib Mahfouzs’ who lived in the neighbourhood Gamalayya, adjacent to the bazaar. At El Fishawy, waiting staff brusquely make space for

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you amongst the tourists and locals sipping on tea, gathering chairs and setting up a squat copper topped table to perch your tea or hibiscus juice on it. Once seated make sure to look above: taxidermied stuffed crocodiles, large gilded mirrors and various characters passing through make El Fishawy a bizarre and entertaining experience. You can smoke a hookah pipe as you people watch or else save your shisha for dinner time. From El Fishawy, ask for directions to El Muizz street. One of the oldest streets in Cairo, it is dense with Islamic monuments along its one kilometre stretch stretching from Bab El Futuh to Bab Zuweila, two historic gates that once guarded a Mamluk-era city of palaces and homes. Having recently undergone extensive renovations, El Muizz street, a strictly pedestrian zone, is now an open air museum rivalling Luxor or Rome. The present blends into the past on this street of grand mosques, old houses and schools where once Koran was taught, and small shops sell spices and assorted bazaar wares. If any of the mosques are open, walk inside, and again, look up. The craftsmanship and work executed on the walls and ceilings are exquisite, and it’s easy to lose track of time admiring the craftsmanship and art of calligraphy engraved in stone and wood, and fine stucco borders. Walk to a main street and hail a cab to the island of Zamalek. An affluent neighbourhood, Cairenes familiar with New York will explain that Zamalek is to Cairo what Manhattan is to New York City. A neighbourhood with galleries, restaurants and residential areas, there’s much to do and see in Zamalek on any given evening. Check out Safar Khan Art Gallery, a gallery run by a mother and daughter team who have a fine eye for great artwork. Showing and representing established Egyptian artists as well as young up and coming artists, Safar Khan is worth a visit to get a feel for how the art scene in Egypt is. It would probably be time for dinner, so head to Sequoia, a restaurant and dining experience that is uniquely Cairene. Located on the southern tip of the island of Zamalek, Sequoia is part lounge and part restaurant, all set outdoors with seating directly on the Nile. The 270˚ view of the neighbourhoods of Imbaba and Beaulac, and the Imbaba bridge, are calming. What makes Sequoia so special is the simplicity of both its dining interior design concepts: unwind and enjoy dinner under the white canopies which hang over Sequoia. The setting is relaxing and candles are lit to add a warm glow to the canopies and overall setting. The menu is a mélange of Egyptian and international mezzes, appetizers and dishes. Alcohol is served, as is shisha, and the quality of the food and service is very good. It’s a great place to people watch as well, everyone comes to Sequoia for the food, the setting, and of course, a lot of laughs and a bit of gossip.

Hand blown glass cups sold in Cairo’s Khan il Khalili bazaar Omar Hikal

Safar Khan Gallery: 6 Brazil Street, Zamalek, Cairo. Telephone: (002) 0123-127-002 Sequoia: 53 Abou El Feda Street, Zamalek, Cairo. Telephone: (02) 2735-0014, (002) 0100-366-7000

Right: Muezz street lit up at night. Omar Hikal A L I M AT Left: Sequoia, a lounge and restaurant located on the Nile. Photo courtesy of KSequoia.

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CULTURE

YA MSAFER WAHDAK (LONESOME TRAVELLER)

ome call her “Bint Battuta” in reference to the 14th century Moroccan traveller. She has indeed Ibn Battuta’s passion for travels as well as the wisdom of Gandhi, her namesake. Leila Ghandi has been travelling around the world with her backpack since she was 15 years old. From Thailand to Peru, Iraq to China, Leila is always on the hunt for human interaction - she is interested in meeting people, living like them, and being one of them. A writer, filmmaker and photographer, Leila has won several prizes and distinctions throughout the years for her work. Leila, who works with the United Nations (UN) programme Alliance of Civilisations, was named “Thought Leader” in the Middle East and North Africa by the UN programme Search for Common Ground. She recently settled down in Casablanca but continues to travel the world for specific projects. At the time of this interview, Leila recently returned from Brazil where she was working on a new project. Between two trips, she accepted to share her story and projects with Kalimat. RE: Where does your passion for travel come from? LG: It’s a family story actually. My dad himself is a traveller. He was a scout leader at a time when very few people travelled, especially Moroccans. He travelled across Morocco with very little money in his pocket. My parents also initiated me to travel and discover through several journeys outside touristic circuits. So it’s really a family heritage. At the age of 15, I travelled on my own for the first time, and later on I decided to make it my job. RE: Can you tell us more about that first trip you did when you were 15? LG: It was kind of a test for me. I went to England for a month and I wanted to see if I’d be able to cope on my own, if I could manage a budget, get around with no difficulties. It was also an opportunity for me to improve my English. I realised during that trip that I had no reason to fear solo travels. The next year I went to Australia, and then, every year, I went to a new country. But at the time I still depended on my parents to finance my trips. I began financing my trips when I became a college student, from my personal savings and jobs. RE: What about your first trip where you intended on discovering and learning from a new culture? When was that? LG: My first discovery trip was in Thailand when I was 18, and my first extended journey was in South America, where I spent eight months. This trip really affected me and influenced the decisions I took later on. I first worked at the French Embassy in Chile, and then I travelled for five months through Peru, Chile, Bolivia, and Argentina. It was a very significant journey because it was a long trip, and because I hopped from one country to another and also because I mixed my professional career with leisure travel. I was alone for a long period for the first time in my life and it made me think things through. It was a sort of introspection, a personal adventure that enabled me to know what I wanted to do with my life.

by rime el-jadidi

passion. What triggered that? And what were the sacrifices you had to make? LG: In hindsight, I don’t think that there was one specific moment that triggered that decision; it was a whole process that started when I was 14, it didn’t happen overnight. I have always been interested not only in travelling, but also in encountering new cultures. As for photography, I received my first camera at 15 and I started experimenting with movie cameras during my trip to Thailand. My journey in South America was, as I said, a moment of introspection. Then in 2004, I travelled to China, Tibet and Mongolia. And it’s during this journey that I was able to make my decision, but I wasn’t able to make it happen until 2006. It took me two years to put things in place, to save money before making the big step. I worked for a year at the Chamber of Commerce in Paris, in the international relations department. Having studied international trade and political science, I used to think that this was the field I wanted to pursue my career in. I had a very good job but I realised that office life is not made for me, even if it has all the international and political aspects within it. Concerning the difficulties, the most challenging one was to finally take the plunge, especially that I didn’t have any established network or a degree related to what I was planning to do. I had only my determination, my experience and my artistry. It was a leap into the unknown at a time when I had social, psychological and economic stability. RE: Many people travel and have no interest in getting to know or adapting to local cultures. How do you prepare for your trips? Do you try to learn about the country you’ll visit beforehand or do you prefer discovering it as you’re travelling? LG: I try not to prepare for my travels in order to accept and embrace the culture as I experience it. However, since it became my job, I now have specific projects to achieve during each one of my trips and so I must gather information before I travel. My intention is to avoid clichés and touristic locations. As a matter of fact, I just came back from Brazil where I lived with the people in the favelas. I try to live with the people so that I can immerse myself in the culture and not be just another tourist. This way, I can bring sincere testimonies from the countries I visit. My approach is not journalistic but more documentative, and also a humanist one. RE: From your experience, what are the advantages and disadvantages of travelling alone? LG: One of the major advantages of travelling alone is that you’re more open-minded, more accessible to the other and more inclined to adapt. Unlike when you travel in a group, being alone attracts new encounters. Besides, when you travel on your own, you don’t depend on anyone, there are no compromises. You can adapt your schedule without depending on someone else and you follow your own intuition. It’s not selfishness, it’s simply living your journey to the fullest. But then, the disadvantage is loneliness. Sometimes you need to talk to someone who understands your language and

your culture. Sometimes you also need a witness or an accomplice. I don’t always travel alone, especially when I go for specific projects, there’s always a cameraman with me. RE: Being a woman who travels alone, aren’t you sometimes afraid? LG: Well, yes and no. A woman alone is always considered easy prey, more vulnerable than a man on his own. Still, nothing bad has ever happened to me. But being a woman also has its advantages. People, especially women, open their doors easily to another woman. They trust her easily without any apprehension. RE: How do you balance between your travels and your family? LG: My travels evolve as my projects and my personal life evolve. I’m not saying that I’ll be travelling at the age of 45 the same way I do now, but I think that there’s a time for each thing. Now my travels are shorter, more oriented, and more professional. In the past, I used to travel to discover a new culture and to discover myself. Now I travel for a project: either a movie, an exhibition or a book. RE: In 2010, French intellectual Gilles Kepel commissioned you to portray Arab societies. Can you tell us more about this experience? LG: It was a very interesting experience especially that I didn’t know this region at all. Working with Gilles Kepel was also very enriching because he’s a specialist in the region. This experience enabled me to discover the Arab-Muslim countries, which are a totally different world from ours, especially Saudi Arabia. From a photography perspective, I discovered a world where the woman has a very specific status. It was very difficult for me to meet women in Saudi Arabia. I couldn’t encounter them in the streets, as in other places in the world. It was hard for me to get testimonies and to take pictures. Saudi Arabia was also a spiritual journey as I did the Umrah (lesser pilgrimage) while I was there. Overall it was a very diverse journey. I went from wearing the 3abbaya (full-length robe worn by some Muslim women) in Saudi Arabia to shorts in Dubai, to body armour in Iraq. The Arab region is very rich in diversity and very different contexts. RE: Can you tell us about your work in Morocco?

LG: I travelled a lot in Morocco too. I recently worked on a project for national television, a documentary on Moroccan children. And I came back to live here two years ago, after living in Paris for a while, because I felt the need to get closer to my country, and to travel more here. RE: Who are the people who have made a mark on you the most during your travels? LG: It’s usually very simple people who make a mark on me. Travelling is an excuse. What interests me is the lifestyle, the human aspect, how people live, either in Tibet or in Morocco. The people who made a mark on me are the children I met in India, Nepalese grandparents who were extreme hospitable, and of course the Dalai-Lama! RE: You are a role model for many Moroccans. What advice would you give to young people who are scared to take the step and pursue their passion? LG: My first advice would be: know yourself. Know who you truly are, and what you want to do. For me, it took me years to figure out who I was. I think it’s the longest and the hardest step in fulfilling one’s dream. My second advice would be to give yourself the means of achieving your dream, once you know what it is you want. As Mark Twain once said: “They did not know it was impossible, so they did it!” I believe we all have a mission in life, something important to achieve. It’s not necessarily something big and at an international scale, but rather something at the personal level. Each one of us has their own path. And remember, nothing is impossible! RE: What are your plans for the future? LG: I work with local NGOs, like Bayti (A Moroccan NGO that works with street children). I represent Morocco at international conferences related to intercultural dialogue. I plan to work more with Moroccan media in the future; I have a documentary project that will be aired on 2M (Moroccan national television). I am also preparing an exhibition and I am currently finishing my new book. My aim is to share with the world how people live. I also want to be involved in the Moroccan civil society as much as I can.

RE: In 2006, you decided to dedicate yourself completely to your 74

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DREAMING OF AGATHA text and photos ALEXANDRA KINIAS

o avenge the death of three year old Daisy Armstrong, twelve people took it upon themselves to bring her justice. On board the Orient Express, the twelve passengers affected by her death stabbed Mr. Rachett, Daisy’s kidnapper, who had killed her three years earlier despite having received her ransom. It was the perfect crime. Had the shrewd Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot, not boarded the Orient Express in Istanbul at the last minute, the mystery of the murder would never have been solved. Murder on the Orient Express was one of the first of Agatha Christie’s books I read. Her own experience travelling on board the lavish train inspired the setting and some of the characters of this thriller. Ms. Christie’s magic spellbound me; enchanted by the plot, I travelled along with her characters. In my imagination, I walked through the compartments, savoured the buffet of desserts in the dining car, and followed Monsieur Poirot. As an eight year old child, arriving in Istanbul on board the Orient Express became my ultimate dream. Some dreams are engraved in our memories, waiting for the right circumstances to be brought to life. Many decades later, and after spending a weekend in Thessaloniki, Greece, I knew that the chance to recreate my childhood dream was knocking on my door; after all, Istanbul was just next door. I grabbed this opportunity without hesitation and convinced my husband that the fourteenhour train ride would be a memorable experience. Before he knew it, we were sitting in Thessaloniki train station waiting for the evening train to Constantinople. In that part of the world, the name Istanbul is taboo since Constantinople had been the capital of the Byzantine Empire before it fell into the hands of the Ottomans who not only changed the name, but also converted the church of the Agia Sophia, the Byzantine crown jewel, to a mosque. After the formation of the Turkish republic in 1923, the name of the city was formally changed to Istanbul, but the Greeks never acknowledged this name given to their precious city by their adversaries. Thessaloniki is the hub for passengers travelling to East European countries. While waiting inside the coffee shop of the train station, I nibbled my hot, melted Kasseri cheese sandwich and watched “Meet the Kardashians” playing on the television screen. Algerian Raï music played in the background. I love globalisation. On 5th June, 1883, the first “Express d’Orient” left Paris for Vienna and in 1891 was officially renamed “Orient Express”. Though the route changed many times, Istanbul remained a destination until 1977 when the train stopped operating. After this, the city continued to be in the limelight through movies, books and songs. Since Turkey is outside the Eurozone, commuting back and forth between Turkey and Greece depends on local trains. The train we were waiting for arrived on time. Crescents were printed all over it, an indication that it was Turkish. After we boarded, three shaggy men in grey uniforms appeared at the compartment door. The first one counted the passengers, the second handed us bed sheets and the third was pillowcase custodian. The compartment had a sink and two beds, the upper bed dangling from the ceiling by leather straps attached to each side. Overwhelmed with excitement, I wandered around to explore my dream train. Two cars were taken over by Japanese tourists who transformed

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the night into day with their camera flashes and another car was crammed with excited backpackers. I imagined the chefs on board the train’s maiden journey preparing dinner: oysters, soup with Italian pasta, turbot with green sauce, chicken “à la chasseur”, fillet of beef with “château” potatoes, “chaud-froid” of game animals, chocolate pudding and a buffet of desserts. I wondered how big their kitchen was. However, my dinner fantasies evaporated when, to my dismay, I found that the train didn’t even have a dining car. The three shaggy conductors showed up again. The first one pushed a shopping cart loaded with soft drinks down the compartments, yelling to sell his merchandise as if he was in a bazar. The second conductor followed holding a tray to serve the passengers the drinks they ordered. Both men were tailed by their supervisor who collected the money; a live demonstration of what bureaucracy means. The mobile cafeteria closed at midnight with no food to offer the starving passengers. As the voice of the yelling conductor faded into the night, the sounds of the excited backpackers partying on board blended with the rattling of the train and I wondered how such a group of loud young people would have inspired Agatha Christie had she been on that trip. In spite of the uncomfortable vibration of the train as it raced on its tracks, I eventually fell asleep while trying to figure out a survival plan, should the supporting straps of the upper berth break. My sleep was soon interrupted by the conductor’s continuous knocking on the doors at three in the morning calling for passports. An hour later, the train stopped. We had no idea where we were, the sign being hidden by another train on the opposite track. A sleep deprived, unshaven passport officer in a blue shirt, buttons struggling to contain his bulging beer belly, showed up in the doorway and collected our passports to register them. The train on the opposite tracks left and in the dim street light, I read the sign of Pythion, a small border village a few kilometres north of the border city of Alexandroupolis. The faint streetlight reflected off peeling grey paint on the wooden shacks forming the police station and passport control offices. The Greek flag fluttered on a pole on the platform. A middle-aged officer walked out of the passport control office and whistled. A brown dog came running, lunged at him and wagged his tail. After they shared a sandwich, the officer returned to his office. I was immersed in a scene from a black and white, Eastern European movie when the train roared away from the station. Fifteen minutes later, the conductor knocked on our door, announcing that it was passport control, again. Amidst our confusion, we discovered that we had already crossed the border into Turkey. At the first stop, we had checked out of Greece and now it was time to check into Turkey. The train braked in the town of Uzunkopru and I was overcome with a sense of déjà vu; the dim street light, wooden shacks with peeling paint, a police station with the Turkish flag hanging on a pole and another shaggy, sleep deprived passport control officer collecting passports. However, before he disappeared he instructed us to follow him to buy entry visas fifteen Euros each. In no time, the train was filled with mosquitos.

In spite of the military aid Turkey receives from the United States, American citizens are required to have a visa to enter the country, a practice that European passport holders are exempted from. While waiting for the passport control officers to finish their procedures, the customs control officer in civilian clothes boarded the train to inspect the luggage. Dawn was already crawling over the horizon and all the passengers were up and on full alert. The flashes of the Japanese tourists’ cameras glowed in the dark and the backpackers were loud and bubbly. Unexpectedly, the dawn prayer call echoed in the sky of the little village in the middle of nowhere. It sounded like it came from another planet and, for a brief moment, I was disoriented. Finally, we were given back our passports with their visa stamps and the train thundered on towards its destination. Voices had faded, eyes were red and passengers were worn out. Istanbul was still six hours away. In a delirious state of mind and with a stomach growling from hunger, I yearned for sleep and collapsed, but in less than half an hour, the conductor’s loud voice accompanied by extra knocking on the doors woke everybody up again. He wished passengers a good morning in multiple languages and asked if anyone wanted coffee or tea in his multilingual tongues. The situation was anything but humorous, but all I could do was laugh because the alternative would have been deadly. At this point, other passengers were also ready for bloody revenge. It was easy to read their body language and it wouldn’t have been hard even for Monsieur Poirot to solve this murder case. Before too long, we found out that the coffee and tea operation was a ruse; the real motive behind waking up the passengers was to collect the bed sheets and pillowcases before they left the train. At any rate, the sun was already out and sleep was no longer attainable. The Turkish countryside was pretty with miles of cheerful sunflowers, their faces swivelled towards the sun. When we reached the outskirts of Istanbul, the conductor tucked in the beds, removed the sheets and pillowcases and took them away. He checked the cupboards and counted the three plastic hangers on the wall. I watched him in amusement and wondered how I had ended up

on this train. In Istanbul, the Orient Express restaurant, as well as the statue of Ataturk, welcomed us as we stepped out of the train. In desperate need of a meal and coffee, we walked into the restaurant that was opened in the late 19th century to serve passengers arriving on the lavish train. In order to enjoy the moment, I pretended the previous fourteen hours hadn’t happened. I also made a mental note not to think of the return journey for the following days. I had promised my husband a memorable journey and indeed it was, even though I will not attempt to repeat it or recommend it to anyone. The trip was triggered by nostalgia for the belle époque, an era long gone. This fascination must have been induced by the simplicity, elegance, romance and dialogues of black and white movies. However, after actually having travelled for fourteen hours in the sleeping compartment of a train, I no longer wished to live in any time but the present. I will not trade the Internet, cell phones, Facebook, Twitter, iPods and Kindles to relive the era of telegrams. Nonetheless, it was thrilling to have breakfast in the place where Agatha Christie had sat and ate. As I sipped my coffee, I wondered if future generations, who will travel in flying trains, will ever look back at our times with nostalgia too. It is unfortunate that I won’t be around to find out.

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Current CULTURE Affairs

FETISH SYSTEMS: REVIEW by KARIM SULTAN

t was the writer Italo Calvino that suggested a writing that—rather than pointing at or recreating an object or character—envelops, surrounds like a fine mist. This suggests their existence rather than attempts to simply recreate them, allowing the reader a measure of engagement and creation with the text. The writing in Fetish Systems, a new written work by multi-talented Lebanese author Raafat Majzoub, warrants this comparison. His bio alone which adorns this slim

a state of trance, where ‘elastic’ would describe our functional execution of our everyday…” The work begins with curious jump-starts into a loosely shaped narrative that can be described as extremely subjective. There is no clear and formal introduction of characters or plot, but rather the text quickly makes it clear to the reader that this is more akin to the highly personal literary experiments of the past century than anything else. The language resembles somewhat the erotic poetic sketches of Georges Bataille, although more cohesive, more drawn out, but similar enough in neardestructive exploratory eroticism to draw the comparison. The fragmented flow of the narrative often times resembles poetry, with alliterative flurries of words provide rough outlines of occurrences that bring to mind a defective photography which only hints at shapes, colours and movement, with the Majzoub’s Beirut always vaguely in the background. “It has become instinct to absorb, shock, absorb, trauma, react, trauma, shock, absorb shock. It is something, a trait that we contain—for so—we all are nothing…We claim that we have lost our identity, we claim the right to construct a holistic monotone remedy to unite us—to homogenize us.” This work is certainly not for the casual reader; there is no quick drawing-up and resolution of characters and plot. Rather, this work has something intensely therapeutic, describing personal relationships with mysterious “others” and places in intimate detail in a way that is, once again, acutely subjective. One gets the impression that even the most innocent of exchanges between the narrator and a lover will show up on the page as darkly dissatisfied, anxious graspings for understanding and rejection of understanding, spiralling outward and inward simultaneously. Majzoub’s language, word choice, and cadence is curiously playful, vacillating within single sentences between the vulgar and the academic, sometimes with seeming deliberate focus on the rhythm and the sound of the passage rather than the written meaning, making it somehow visceral and physical and something that attempts to refuses rational deliberation. “We are only afraid of our naked bodies in the mirror. We define our curves from our audience’s point of view, from their eyes, from between their eyelashes—so we struggle to title us, to make it easier for them to comprehend, easier for us to make them believe—for our actions and words—not the same.” The success of Majzoub’s experiment is difficult to gauge. Yet as a text, the sustained formal and subjective effort makes this author one to keep an eye on in the coming years.

The success of Majzoub’s experiment is difficult to gauge. Yet as a text, the sustained formal and subjective effort makes this author one to keep an eye on in the coming years. volume is merely suggestive: “he is trained as an architect, yet refuses the title – he is currently working on several construction projects, a few books, something that might be a painting, a table and would like this bio to end with an et cetera.” “To live in Beirut, is to know that one must accept circumstance. We have become numb—all of us—numb—in 78

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teta alf marra: REVIEW by RAWAN HADID

I’ve been following “Teta Alf Marra” (Grandma, a thousand times) since the 2010 Doha Tribeca Film Festival (DTFF); this is a long, protracted story. My mother called to tell me she had watched this great film and that I had to see it. She said it was about a Teta (grandmother) and I was, understandably, confused...She assumed it would play at TriBeCa in New York, and it did. I had read about the film and was absolutely interested in seeing it. I bought my tickets the minute they went on sale, excited for the premiere, and I even blocked off my schedule that day! My tonsillitis was so bad at an hour before the premiere, that I was at health services being given steroids as the doctor told me that if I waited any longer, my tonsils were going to block my breathing. I still considered going, but was sent to an ear, nose and throat specialist for further tests... Meanwhile, I was most upset about missing the film. Then, this past summer, I was in Montreal and found out that the film would be screened at the Montreal World Film Festival. Again, I got really excited to see it, but had to go back to Doha and missed it by one day. At this point I was beginning to think that my relationship with “Teta” was cursed. I followed it on Facebook, and saw announcements for international screenings with a sense of defeat- everyone on earth was going to see this film before I did. Every review talked about how cute it was. Cute. I needed to see Mahmoud Kaabour’s Teta. I needed a cute film about a teta. I already felt like I knew her! Was it ever going to come back to New York? In early December, it finally did. I told all of my friends, bought my tickets in advance and was at the IFC theatre twenty minutes early. This is a cute film. Super cute. His Teta is my Teta and your Teta and all our Tetas. When Mahmoud introduces his blonde fiancée Eva for the first time to Teta, she is very nice to her - but doesn’t shy from reminding him that Arab girls are prettier. She’s mildly placated that Eva can speak Arabic and tells him that Eva has a nice figure, as consolation. I told you, she is all our Tetas! Kaabour allows us to mourn the passing of our older family members, their impact on family ties, and their history, while shining an affectionate light on their quirkiness. Together, Mahmoud and Teta Fatima conjure distant memories that screen on the window behind them. We see a Beirut of a different time, when successful violinists wore tarabeesh (an Ottoman red felt hat, or fez, worn by men) and strolled the black and white streets. Teta Fatima is now 85, so she spends most of her time at home - smoking a lot of argilleh (shisha, hookah), reminiscing about her house full of children, and her beloved deceased husband, who Mahmoud not only looks like but is also named after. In the film, his love, awe and respect for his grandmother shine through vibrantly and transfers through to the viewer; you almost want to visit her in Beirut to share an argilleh with her while she tells you about her life. The film is only 48 minutes long, and the viewer is absolutely left wanting for more time with the inhabitant of that sun-drenched Beirut apartment, with its windows open to the sounds coming from the street below. The New York Times called it “delightful” while Variety gave the film a terrific review. The Huffington Post reviewed it under the title “Magical”—although the rest of the review

did discuss the need for a “Western understanding of the Arab spirit”1- sorry, Huff Po, a little confused about what that is and where to find that? More importantly, the shared humanity and delight in loving your Teta enough to make a film in tribute to her is beyond endearing without being overly sentimental. His Teta is delightful! I came out of the film vowing to call my own Tetas more often. Maybe they’ll tell me about how pretty Arab girls are? A confidence boost never hurt. 1 http://www.huffingtonpost.com/e-nina-rothe/magical-dfi-presents-mahm_b_854692.html

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alleys: exploring syria photography DEENA DOUARA

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an ode to women in film text and photos RAWAN RISHEQ

BOTTOM LEFT George Hachim and Afrah Farah RIGHT TPFF Art show

o communicate, two men stand on two neighbouring hillsides, shouting through megaphones and catching up on their families’ news. This is the closest they can get to one another, with a border separating the occupied man from the one in his homeland. This scene out of the film Shout symbolised the struggle of all those under oppression trying to get their expression heard. The Toronto Palestine Film Festival (TPFF) amplified the indigenous voices of that land in that way precisely, like our super sized megaphone. And in its fourth annual showcase, it proved just how loud it was growing to be. In 2008, I attended the first opening, held at the grassroots Bloor Cinema between two shawarma spots. This year, the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) BELL Light Box was the location for the opening and closing of the festival, with the bulk of the films screened at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO). On opening night, the crowds were buzzing with excitement. Seated in the lush red theatre I paused, impressed at just how organised this event really is. We were introduced with a brief history, and an acknowledgement of the volunteers who toiled tirelessly to make this festival happen. The message at hand: that there is no wall too high to contain the stories of Palestine. The films presented fragmented pieces of that one story, with this year’s focus illuminating the strength of woman. The selection of strong fictional characters, directors and real life representations, was diverse and truly empowering. The first of those fictional characters was Kamar (Yasmine Al-Masri) of Pomegranates and Myrrh, the epitome of a strong willed, free spirited Palestinian woman. Palestinian female director Najwa Najjar takes us on a personal journey with Kamar, through her blooming love-filled marriage to Zaid (Ashraf Farah) and into her migration to her husband’s olive farm, until

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he is arrested for resisting the confiscation of his land. While he is imprisoned, Kamar grapples with the conflict between her dancing soul and her rooted identity. We witness her internal struggle, resisting the lure of an alternative dance teacher who tempts her to “live for today” and coping with the longing and confusion caused by her husbands detainment. We then come to see her resilience peak through the darkness as she picks up a shovel and works the field across from the Israeli settlers who have set up a tent on her property. This only manifests after she finally accepts her Zaid’s warning as truth: “If we lose the land, we lose everything ” and becomes dedicated to protecting that which is sacred, even if it means threatening her life. Noha (Nadine Labaki) of the Lebanese film Stray Bullet radiated the same type of independent minded and beautifully powerful woman. Although her tale is tangled in civil war, it remains as personal as Kamar’s, In Noha’s case, it is that of a woman torn between expectations to be wed and wrestling with the traumatic unrest of her motherland and family. Just before she ushers in her happy ending, Kamar’s climax of intimacy with the soil beneath her feet comes in a poetic scene of her dancing barefoot on the land. Her feet scratch and bleed as she picks up her spinning speed, and her passion rises under the moonlight. Under the light of Luna, clinging onto an old dark tree, Noha also comes to face her destiny, in true film-noire style, the film crackles in its vivid vintage capture of a tragic moment where she watches her mother get killed and loses her sanity instantaneously. “It was the only happy end possible”, said director George Hachim when he spoke to Kalimat, “she did not want to be married and she is not, all the country is in hell, the house is burned, and she’s in a beautiful area”. A

harsh reminder washed over the crowd - that in the reality of the situation, strength alone does not warrant freedom. Before we came face to face with the real-life women to be highlighted in the festival, Kalimat had the chance to ask Toronto based Palestinian scholar Nahla Abdo during the panel discussion on “Representation of Arab Women in Film and Media”, why she thought there weren’t enough films on these types of strong women throughout history. “In general I think women are, to begin with, rarely or scarcely represented in films all together…mainstream Arab media is male-stream, filmmaking is the same thing. The emergence of women in filmmaking with the perspective of women is a relatively recent phenomenon…I would also second your “why?” by saying that I would like to see more films about Arab women in history and their historical role. For example, right now I’m working on a new project; which is women political prisoners. My focus is Palestinian woman detainees in Israel. However, I do comparisons with other women all over the world. And my question is until now, we have not seen a single film looking at the lives of women before, during and after prison. Yes, they share the same type of torture, racist torture, not just physical, and mental, etc. but in addition, they also share something gendered, namely sexual torture by the prison authority. I would like to see a film on that kind of, and Palestinians have produced tens of thousands of women who have entered jail, Algeria the same thing, I mean throughout the Arab world you have women who have suffered that and built history throughout, so why are those women not out there?” The panel ran for three hours, discussing topics ranging from history, to politics, to gender issues, filmmaking and the media, including the challenges facing female filmmakers in the industry. Ruba Nada, a Toronto based Palestinian-Syrian filmmaker, touched on this by responding to the same question as Nahla and adding that, “it’s very difficult in my experience and I’ve heard stories as well, to finance a movie about women, where the female heroine is the hero and that’s the main storyline. It’s very difficult to get financing from the West and from the Arab world.” Although Nahla’s desire to hear the female prisoner’s tale has yet to be addressed in film, for the remainder of the festival she attended the majority of films and actively expressed her appreciation of the women depicted throughout. Of the two documentary accounts focused on the female perspective of this plight, Kingdom of Women left its audience in awe. The bleeding ink off of Naji Al-Ali’s cartoons interlocked narratives of women in pain – in the same style as the film’s weaving of a unified story of the resistant women of Ein Il Hilweh refugee camp in southern Lebanon. Forced to fend for themselves when their husbands and sons are rounded up in a mass arrest, these women embodied a phrase uttered by one of them, “necessity is the mother of invention”. They burnt down the tents provided by Israelis in compensation for their demolished homes, and rebuilt with their own hands from the rubble up. One schoolteacher was even able to drive out Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) camped out on the roof of the kinder garden with the purposeful screams of children. The second documentary was focused on a family story through the eyes of Zahara, a great grandmother who has endured and persevered in keeping her Palestinian lineage alive and well, inside of her occupied homeland since the Nakba (catastrophe) in 1948 - a tale, as director Mohammad Bakri puts it, “of history repeating itself”. Children of the Revolution, the last documentary to illustrate the strength of woman as the focus, was a-typical of any others at the festival. The two women in question were not of Arab origin per say, but their roles in creating and implementing revolutionary acts were undeniable on the world scale. From their daughters’ eyes we were able to gain insight into what their “terrorist” mothers really underwent behind closed doors. May Shigenobu’s account of her experience alongside her mother Fusako, founder and former leader of the Japanese Red Army, was fascinating. Fusako moved to Lebanon as part of the International Revolutionary Solidarity, and worked alongside the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) to “consolidate the international revolutionary alliance against the imperialists of the world”, as she put it in her writings.

While residing there, she became pregnant with the child of a Palestinian guerrilla fighter and May was her blessed gift. Nahla even went on to praise May during the question and answer period for her courage and positive outlook, having endured 28 years without a national identity, living in hiding to protect her mother, in avid support of her cause. After watching Enemy Alien, another a-typical documentary by Konrad Aderer, a Japanese-American who joined a 2 year campaign to free Palestinian prisoner Farouk Abdel-Mahti, Kalimat asked May Shigenobu to reflect on her realisations concerning freedom of speech and she said, “No. I don’t think we have freedom of speech even in developed countries with private media. We have freedom of speech when we’re talking to each other as individuals, but we don’t have it in a scale that affects society and can be freely found in the mainstream media. We still have censorship, perhaps not through state censorship as in the past, but self-censorship that comes from the fear of losing sponsors and advertisements, as well as from political pressure. This is a burden mainstream media will have as long as it operates and finances itself through subsidies, funds, sponsors, and advertisements. If freedom of speech really existed in the US or Japan or most democratic countries, we would have more critical in-depth discussions and see thinkers like Noam Chomsky and Norman Finkelstein on mainstream media. If we had freedom of speech, Octavia Nasr and Helen Thomas would not be fired from CNN and the White House Press corps for saying what they said. Of course we do have alternative media, but it is still not strong enough to have an impact on the general understanding of what is going on in the world.” Konrad emphasised with Farouk due to his own experience as a Japanese-American post WWII - hearing echoes of his own family’s internment in the struggle of Muslims rounded up in mass arrests post 9/11. Farouk was a man who utilised his voice, without the need for a megaphone. He was outspoken about global injustices, including the one taking place in Palestine, and his goal was to enrich international solidarity for all oppressed peoples. This film was compiled largely of stock footage, documents and interviews, resulting in a captivating truth that left the audience churning with enlivened curiosity. Kalimat caught up with Konrad and when we asked him if he felt any less helpless following the release and hastened death of Farouq, he answered “I don’t know, it’s so funny, you know if I look at it rationally, I guess I should feel even more helpless about all this, but I think through making the film and even an event like this, through joining with people and keeping the narratives going and sharing the narratives of people and joining up with more communities, I still feel basically like what they always say, ‘the people united can never be defeated.’ Even though it seems like it never comes [this victory], I still feel like there’s so many people working towards victory and securing the rights of people no matter where they come from and not using the state as this fetish to oppress people. So just through learning what I learned and getting to know the people that I’ve known through the film and responses that I’ve gotten, has given me hope, maybe its not rational, but it makes me feel active.” Through Konrad’s feelings it is evident that the festival not only amplified the voices of Palestinians, but of others who have undergone similar strife and come to understand the meaning of international solidarity. In addition, it is important to mention that TPFF did not solely cover the perspective of women, there were a great number of films that merited to be shown. The audience was transported into the mind of a Palestinian child in the exquisitely crafted short tragedy Checkpoint, into an underground tunnel with a young man residing in Gaza as he smuggles humanitarian supplies in Into The Belly of the Whale, into the last run-down factory in Hebron that struggles to continue producing the national symbol in Kuffiyeh: Made in Palestine, and all the way into the eyes of Israeli youth in Occupation Has No Future. All of these films were impeccably made, moving to the core, and the last of which was revolutionary in its information sharing. Listening to the Israeli youth in Occupation Has No Future as they share their worldview and indoctrination into believing they are defending themselves

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against violent Palestinians, and how that bubble was burst by the pursuit for truth, was exhilarating. Watching them act, as people part of a larger human family in which all deserve a dignified life, was refreshing. From refusing conscription to serving as human shields for Palestinian farmers, these people truly redefined the meaning of international solidarity to be inclusive of those living locally. Alongside the gravity of the heavy subjects tackled in the films, there were two aspects of the festival which one can’t go without mentioning – art and music! A traveling art show accompanied the screenings at the AGO and Kalimat asked Nadeen Khoury what her objective was when curating the show, “I wanted to have a well-rounded show so I selected print making, collages, painting and photography, which will change every day. They’re not all Arab, there are some Palestinians, Lebanese, Pakistanis and Canadians, all from Toronto.” And as for music, “Sahtain!” the Palestinian Brunch held at Beit Zatoun featured the brilliant composer and pianist John Kameel Farah, and an array of delicious traditional food. The musical performances arrived just in time to aid in the sweet surrender that was the closing of the film festival. After the screening of Hip Hop is Bigger Than The Occupation, a documentary following several spoken word artists and musicians as they tour the Palestinian territories and inspire children to speak out, the crowd rushed to the Pilot for the party featuring Marcel Cartier, Mazzi S.O.U.L Purpose, Yaseen from Ivoice, and the first lady of Arabic hip-hop, Shadia Mansour. Before the performance, Kalimat caught up with Shadia to ask her what she would advise young Palestinian females in the territories who face obstacles to expressing themselves through art due to traditional settings, she blew us away by answering that, “You know these girls, like Mariam that you saw in the documentary, they’re already strong, girls, they’re already fuelled with will power because they know that they need to. They don’t even look at it from like a female-male perspective, it’s more about the need to multiply the numbers and the need to consolidate each other, because at the end of the day, women make up half the society. So even in a hip hop society or a dance society or a theatrical society, women make up half that society, it wouldn’t be whole without women so I think people like Mariam also get support from her male coactors, and that’s really kind of the foundation that she has. For me, she inspires me to be honest, people like her inspire me, because I think in a way they are actually breaking barriers for us, the females that are coming from the Diaspora, coming into the conservative, coming into the refugee camps. At the end of the day, she has to live with that and she has to wake up the next day and face whatever consequences. They’re the real heroes, you know the women living in those camps over there who are trying to pursue their dreams.” And Shadia took that inspiration and tore the roof off of the place with her Arabic lyrical genius and powerful presence, there could not have been a more perfect way to say goodbye than by standing inches away from a powerhouse of a Palestinian woman.

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Le dernier combat du captain Ni’mat by RIME EL-JADIDI

t’s a rainy day in Ifrane. I’m stuck in the library, procrastinating for over an hour. I decide to take a look at the new acquisitions’ shelves, and that’s when I find, in the place I least expected, Le dernier combat du Captain Ni’mat by Mohamed Leftah. I’ve heard a lot about this book: it is censored in Morocco and no one can find it in bookstores. I’ve also heard that it’s about homosexuality, but now that I have read it, I think it’s more than that. Prohibition doubles the pleasure of reading a book, as it does for many other things. And while I’m usually a very slow reader, I finished this novel in less than a day. So what’s the controversy behind the story? Le dernier du combat du Captain Ni’mat is the story of Captain Ni’mat, a former Egyptian military officer that participated in the Six Day War in 1967. When he is much older and after having a life-changing dream, he discovers his homosexuality and begins to acknowledge his penchant for men. He then has an affair with his Nubian domestic, Islam. In the story, the Captain Ni’mat is a man who accepts his defeats, in war as in “masculinity”. After reading the book, the question remains: why is this book banned in Morocco while other books about homosexuality written by Moroccans are circulating legally? No one has the answer yet. A good guess would be that some might find controversial that the Captain is sleeping with a man named “Islam”, and Islam is seen as sodomising the Captain. Not only is the name of the character problematic here, but there are also other issues related to this relationship. There are of course the differences in age and in social classes, and the fact that Islam is Nubian while Ni’mat is Egyptian. Yet one of the most problematic aspects is one that the Captain himself raises in the story is the passive homosexuality. In the novel, the main character expresses the difference in which Egyptian society perceives homosexuals: active homosexuals do not suffer prejudice; it’s the passive ones who do. Active homosexuals are regarded as manly, sometimes even more than straight men. The author describes active homosexuals as “sodomisers” and the passive homosexuals as the ones

being sodomised. Another potential danger represented by this book is its critique of masculinity, which is very often - if not always - understood as strength and violence towards the opposite sex. The Last Battle of the Captain Ni’mat also has a political aspect, related to the defeat suffered during the Six Day War. Unlike many of his friends, Ni’mat didn’t participate in the Yom Kippur war (1973), and didn’t get the chance to experience victory - even though he considers the 1973 victory as incomplete, but would never voice this, fearing the judgment of his surroundings. But beyond all this, it’s the social aspect of the novel that makes it, to me at least, very interesting. The ending draws the Captain to a life-changing dilemma and his series of defeats to his last.The battle here is that of assuming one’s individuality and leading one’s own life, a battle that many in the Arab world are confronted with everyday. And in this sense, the book is not only about homosexuals but about everyone who was ever considered a social outcast or slightly different and people who want to assume their individuality in a communitarian society. The story happens in Egypt, the characters are Egyptians, but we can transplant it anywhere in the Arab world. As the Captain asks himself: “When will we reach the status of individuals enjoying inalienable rights, among which, first, the freedom of conscience and the right to dispose of our bodies and of our sexual orientation?” Through the character of Captain Ni’mat, Leftah raises the challenging issue of being an individual in a society that is not always accepting of difference. As the character of Captain Ni’mat represents a threat to the high-society of Cairo and to the male chauvinistic society of Egypt, Mohamed Leftah’s book represents the same threat: a threat to masculinity and to communitarianism. Whether Captain Ni’mat won or lost his last battle, well that’s for the reader to decide.

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“THERE’S MUSIC OUTSIDE OF DAVE MATTHEWS?” by KARIM SULTAN

KS: How did family and friends react or deal with music as a part of your life? RR: Everyone has been extremely supportive since the beginning. KS: Do you actively search for music outside your comfort zone, or do you tend to stick with one set of sounds? RR: There’s music other than Dave Matthews? KS: Does Egypt as a setting, a place, its people, etc. have an impact on your music? RR: Can’t really say it has any. There’s no oriental or Egyptian influence in my music. But I’m certainly influenced by some of the underground local bands and artists here. KS: What do you think of the Cairo “scene?” What are its strengths or the things that make it exciting or fresh, and what is it lacking?

e managed to have a short back-and-forth with Rashad “Rash Radio,” a talented young singer-songwriter and guitar player from Cairo’s small but bustling underground music scene. His emotive vocals and melodic guitar have been catching the attention of many, and his abrupt and witty responses may amuse others. KS: How would you describe your music? RR: I think it’s a mish-mash of every genre, every sound and every rhythm I encounter. There’s no solid body to it I can describe. It’s fluid and ever changing. KS: Why the guitar? What drew you to it? RR: Seemed cool, there’s no deeper reason behind it. I think what initially drew me to it was noticing that girls liked it! Very douchie of me, I know! KS: What was the story of your singing? And was it something you always did, or something you kept to yourself at first? RR: No, the singing part came vey late actually. I kept it to myself for quite sometime, until I got relatively good at it and had a couple of original songs done. KS: What do you recall listening to growing up? What were the different types of music and sound (i.e. family, city, television) that formed the backdrop? RR: Most of time, it was incredibly shitty Arabic pop music, but my dad always had on classical music and good ol’ Arabic music (i.e. 3ammar el Shree’y, Fairouz, Abdel Halim, Om Kulthoum, Ke$ha, etc.) on long car drives, so I think that helped with the detox process.

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RR: The Cairo scene is currently in very bad shape. The only strength would be the amazing bands and artists that we have here, but unfortunately the venues and festivals available don’t provide the suitable soil for any artist to grow. KS: Do you relate to the other music scenes in Beirut, Amman, and other cities in the region and in the diaspora? RR: I don’t really follow up on the scene in the region, but I’ve heard some great stuff on sites like triplew.me. There’s a lot of good music I hear that really needs the support to be heard worldwide. KS: Your sound can be classified as pretty “international”—is this a natural extension of younger Egyptian music? RR: I can only speak for myself. I still hear the typical cliché of Arabic pop all around. But I think some of the artists in the underground scene have developed a real original sound, one you can call “international” KS: What do you think of “Arabic” music? What does that mean to you? RR: Like any other genre, certainly has its bad and good. I’m not really into Arabic music so it doesn’t mean much to me. RR: What’s your dream/ideal project? Is there anything you would absolutely love to do musically or artistically, or beyond? (Your imagination is the limit). KS: Well since my imagination is the limit, and since I’m a Dave Matthews fanatic, it would be mind blowing if I was ever able to get in the studio with the Dave Matthews Band—granted that I won’t be doing much music with me being busy saying “Oh My God it’s Dave Matthews!” but that would be awesome!

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CELEBRATING ELIA, SAID AND REVOLUTIONS

he Boston Palestine Film Festival (BPFF), co-presented with the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (MFA), celebrated its fifth anniversary this year. From October 21-30, BPFF screened over 50 Palestine-related films by Palestinian, American, Israeli and international filmmakers at various venues across the city. This year’s festival had a number of thematic threads including the work of Elia Suleiman, celebrating the legacy of the late Edward Said, an homage to past and present revolutions, challenging the status quo and women making movies. This year’s programme also showcased a burgeoning number of young emerging filmmakers who are focusing their talents on Palestine-related narratives. Alongside the many films it screened, BPFF featured numerous live music shows, an art show and several distinguished guests in attendance including Elia Suleiman, Osama Zatar, Sameh Zoabi, Dahna Abourahme, Roger Brown and many more. Opening night featured Elia Suleiman’s The Time That Remains (2009). The highly acclaimed and award-winning film is a semi-biographical black comedy film written and directed by Suleiman in which he also plays a leading role. BPFF also screened Suleiman’s other films Chronicle of a Disappearance (1996) and Divine Intervention (2002), discussions with the director followed every screening. At the reception following the opening night Film, BPFF presented Shusmo (“Whatchamacallit” in Arabic), an eclectic NY-based band that has created a unique mélange of alternative Arabic music. The festival closed with Man Without a Cell Phone (2009), a feature debut by Sameh Zoabi, a Palestinian director who is a citizen of Israel. Zoabi, who attended the screening, was named “one of the top 25 new faces of independent cinema” by Filmmaker Magazine. The film is a humorous, sharp take on the social milieu of a Palestinian village inside Israel. The film was the winner of this year’s BPFF Audience Award. BPFF hosted a two-part event called “The Gift of a Music Education: Celebrating the Legacy of Edward Said”. The special event celebrates the legacy of the late Edward Said in facilitating access to music education and involvement for Palestinian youth, and “promoting interaction and coexistence among cultures through music.” The event began with a screening of the award-winning film Knowledge is the Beginning, which chronicles the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra (WEDO), established in 1999 by Edward Said and Israeli conductor Daniel Barenboim with the aim of bringing together young musicians from Israel, Palestine, and various Arab countries, supported by Spanish musicians. Edward Said called it the most important thing he had done in his life. Following the film, a reception and concert honoured the on-going efforts of Berklee College, building on Said’s legacy and in collaboration with the local Arab-American community, to collaborate with the Edward Said National Music Conservatory in Ramallah to identify and recruit gifted Palestinian students. Professor Adel Iskandar of Georgetown University contextualised the legacy of Edward Said for the audience, followed by Berklee President Roger Brown, who spoke about how Berklee benefits from having Palestinian students, why the school will continue reaching out to recruit more, and the power of music to transcend deeply entrenched stereotypes, something that he said he first experienced growing up in the Deep South.

Under the musical direction of Palestinian qanunist and Berklee student Ali ‘Amr, four Palestinian students from the College brought together about 15 international students for a smashing and culturally diverse musical programme along with remarks about what the gift of a Berklee music education means to them. BPFF also featured the art exhibit “A Child’s View from Gaza” accompanied to the film Gazastrophe. The exhibit, curated by artist Rajie Cook, featured drawings created shortly after Operation Cast Lead by children in Gaza. This year’s festival also featured a university film series in conjunction with student groups. The programme culminated with a series of hip hop events including a hip hop concert featuring DAM, Shadia Mansour, Mazzi of S.O.U.L., M1, Yusuf Abdul Mateen, Foundation Movement, and Ahmad Awad.

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art & Design

STATE OF DESIGN: Discussions With Key Figures in Egypt’s Design Community

M Chalet shahira fahmy

Top shahira fahmy Bottom Inside-Out Tea Set by shahira fahmy

by SALLY EL-SABBAHY

hances are if you’ve spent any time living in or visiting Egypt, you’ve been exposed to the work of its ambitious designers without even realising it. Although still growing in size and reach, the influence of Egypt’s design community can already be seen around the country; from private homes to bars to coffee shops and offices, these designers are leaving their mark in a multitude of ways. But beyond the notable individual impacts that these designers have made, the larger scope of design in Egypt usually goes undiscussed. This includes anything from the education offered to future Egyptians designers to the untapped problemsolving potential of wider design utilisation in Egypt. For a sharper insight into these issues, we spoke to Cherif Morsi of Cherif Morsi Design, Dina El Khachab of Eklego Design, Shahira Fahmy of Shahira Fahmy Architects and Mona Hussein of Temple of Light. The result was a varied and no-frills look at the current nature of the Egyptian design scene.

bottom and the system continues to put unqualified people at the top because of who they know, and this has killed so many things, including the growth of the fields of design and architecture. Things are improving though, the design community has really grown over the years and I think, if things go well, within the next two years we’ll find many designers who are currently underground begin to really blossom. SALLY: Why do you think that the boundaries of the Egyptian design community have succeeded in expanding, in spite of the obvious obstacles?

DINA: I think it’s a function of the way the city and the country have been growing, in the sense that we’re more exposed. More products come into the country now and people are exposed to much more and they can appreciate a design service a lot more. In the past that wasn’t the case, but its like that in any country at the beginning of the development of a service industry beSALLY: First of all, was it a challenge to become established in cause services are always undervalued; it takes time to nurture the design community in Egypt? the value of the service and have people learn to appreciate it or understand why they’re paying for it. SHAHIRA: There is almost no community (laughs), it’s very small and tight-knit. I think this is primarily because it is so hard SALLY: Can design in Egypt be construed as sort of an elitist to succeed as a designer in Egypt, and one of the reasons for niche? that was the Mubarak era. Everybody left the country, including many potentially good designers, because not everyone could CHERIF: In the end, what I or any other designer do may end afford to open their own office or could manage to get a job in up looking very elitist, and that’s because the design comone. Even the cultural environment made it very hard; when I munity in Egypt is sort of stuck in this elite niche right now. started my company in 2005, I had two or three commissions It’s not because we choose to be, but it’s because what we do for architecture, and they were never built because the clients is still kind of new, and companies and clients are still slowly rejected them, even though they had said that they wanted to realising that design isn’t so much about flexing muscle as it is work with me. They just couldn’t bring themselves to accept a way to offer real alternatives to ways of living and problem the designs I was producing – although when I submitted these solving. I do think design should be much more available, but same designs in international competitions, they won awards. unfortunately the majority of people or companies who currently In 2007, I finally got my first paid commissions in architecture, commission designers to do something for them are, by default, but much of the work I had previously produced from 2004 up the companies or people that can afford to take that risk. But to 2007 was sitting in drawers because no one wanted to act on it’s getting better, in the last 2-4 years design has become much it. The corruption also makes it hard to succeed as a designer more available and popular. here, and that’s why a lot of people are “underground”. By that, I mean that there are a lot of designers that do great work, but DINA: I think so sometimes, especially among the smaller, private because they don’t have the right connections they’re still not clients. With corporate clients I think design is understood as widely known. Generally, in every field in the country you had more of a basic necessity because it ends up saving costs and a few people who were the so-called stars of that field, whether the project itself is operating under such a big budget that it it was culture, politics, education or medicine. They didn’t get ends up being more efficient and alternatively, actually costs those positions because they were the best at what they did! So, less. So, while design may be viewed as elite for the time being, you have all the talented and hardworking people at the very I think it’s only because it’s still not properly defined in the 92

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Aperitivo Bar & Restaurant, interiors by Eklego Design. Photo Faouzi Massrali. Articulate Baboon Art Gallery, interiors by Eklego Design. Photo Faouzi Massrali. K A L I M AT

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Joubal Signature Apartments, interiors by Eklego Design. Photo Orascom Developments

Right: BARTEN BY CHERIF MORSI Left: DESIGNOPOLIS BY MONA HUSSEIN

Allegria House, architecture by Eklego Design Photo Eklego Design

Jotun Environment BY CHERIF MORSI

majority of the population. If you look at Egyptians from lower socio-economic classes, you find huge amounts of innovation and creativity and design just because of a lack of physical resources and space. About ten years ago I went to a very isolated site we were working on and the construction workers there were living on-site. They had been sleeping there for almost a year and they really had nothing with them; there were no facilities and nothing to do and they couldn’t get around because there was no transportation in the area. So they had made all these gadgets, like a shisha pipe from scrap metal and a bed structure that could be converted into a sitting space during the day. That, for me, is design, its just not labelled among these people as “design”, because they see no value in that. SALLY: So, could design be better embedded into popular culture in Egypt, as it is in countries like the United States, for example? SHAHIRA: Yes, but actually I also think it has changed dramatically for the better. A client that rejected my work back in 2003 bumped into me recently and told me that my latest work was incredible and that he loved it. But at the time he couldn’t see that. The awareness has just totally changed. Whatever happened in other Arab cities like Beirut and Dubai with the participation of international designers in those markets – although this has its pros and cons – has given people a different view of how things can look and has increased people’s tolerance. So, I think a really dramatic shift has happened. At the beginning if I didn’t think on the same wavelength of a client then they would just perceive me as being not educated enough about design simply because I didn’t think like them. I also firmly believe that the majority of the population is actually more open to design than the very top percentile. This is because they themselves are so creative, even in the way they build their houses. I am so inspired by what Egyptians do. Even if everybody wants to label an area as a slum, I still love it, because the people living there have found ways to overcome space and resource issues to make these areas liveable. They’ve got adaptability and flexibility and are very open to new things and I believe that they are much more tolerant to design than the higher socio-economic minority. 94

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CHERIF: Design in Egypt is still very much like a fashion statement, because people who are interested in it choose to go after the brand more than the design itself. But I do think this is normal, and it’s a step that we have to go through at the beginning. Once design stops being “new” in the sense that the general culture gets more used to it, then we’ll be able to appreciate the core of design more, without requiring a brand behind it to make it interesting. SALLY: What are your takes on the education that is currently available to future designers in Egypt? MONA: Generally speaking, the design education in Egypt remains quite conventional in that it focuses mainly on the major disciplines, such as architecture and interior design, but with a traditional, static curriculum. It usually churns out idealistic, textbook qualified people who are eager to begin their careers but are usually lacking real-life experiences and are unaware of the intricacies involved in realising conceptual designs. Since the focus during their education is usually based on hypothetical projects, the essential link between conceptualising a design and then actually implementing it is usually non-existent. However, the surge in new universities in recent years has seen an introduction to newer subjects such as product and lighting design as well as a new approach to teaching, whereby students are no longer confined to the classroom but are able to go out to meet suppliers, to discuss matters with them and to understand the production process. All of this has created an environment that is much more conducive to the development of good and progressive design than it was the past. DINA: I really don’t like to be negative, but I think so far the people coming out of universities, in terms of architecture and interior design, are not coming out as designers. I think that is partly because they have a very narrow education; its not holistic and it doesn’t include artistic and creative ways of thinking, which should really be pushed on these kids from a younger age so they can learn how to think in ways that can have nothing to do with science. A lot of what is being taught today is very scientifically geared or is based on memorisation, so you may have a student who comes out very strong in architecture or AutoCAD, but not necessarily in design. There’s a lack of creative and critical thinking, generally.

CHERIF: When I was in university, I was really unhappy with the gap between what we were being taught and what we saw on the ground. The ways of thinking in design education abroad are much more interesting and there were design movements that coincided with that. Here, the main problem is that designers are taught certain approaches and methods at university and then they’re stuck with that select knowledge because they’re not encouraged to develop on their own and to pursue alternative ways of thinking. This is why you’ll see a lot of the same thought processes in the designs that are created here. I’m not saying that the designs are not interesting; it’s just that they’re not different or varied. We have to improve design education a lot, of course, but there is also another problem tied to that, which is to realistically figure out how to improve it,

lunique table by cherif morsi

educating designers and even things like design project initiatives would occur more frequently. But there are some pretty good Egyptian designers out there, regardless. SALLY: What about the uses of design in urban public spaces in Egypt? MONA: The unprecedented expansion

Within this context, the potential for improvement is limitless. The transformation of the urban landscape in Cairo, through the collaboration of designers from various disciplines such as architecture, interior designer, landscape design, lighting design and so forth, is not only a possibility but should be a necessity. The introduction of minor elements, such as well designed signage systems, uni-

[...] the majority of the population is actually more open to design than the very top percentile. [...] They’ve got adaptability and flexibility and are very open to new things and I believe that they are much more tolerant to design than the higher socio-economic minority. and that is a whole other huge topic. I think that the moment that there is a more general interest in culture and an understanding of what the culture can produce for its people is when we’ll have an opportunity to develop design education. Under those kind of conditions the government will be more inclined to invest in

of Cairo during the last few decades has created a megalopolis with no clear urban planning or any structure or uniformity in design, as well as the creation of satellite shanty towns within the city and on its peripheries.

form street lighting, taking advantage of the weather and focusing on outdoor spaces for cafes and restaurants, even the planting of bougainvillea to grow on lesser buildings would go a long way in improving the urban landscape in Egypt. K A L I M AT

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Tamarai Lounge and Restaurant BY SHAHIRA FAHMY

Cairopolis by Cherif Morsi

TOP LEFT: Block 36 Westown BY Shahira Fahmy TOP RIGHT: Residential Interiors BY mona hussein BOTTOM LEFT: Cherif Morsi bottom RIGHT: Mona Hussein

Eklego’s partners; from left, Dina El Khachab, Hala Said, Hedayat Islam and Heba El Gabaly

SHAHIRA: I genuinely believe that design could really have an impact on the urban structure of cities like Cairo more than it ever had before since designers may potentially now have more of a say in how their city and their country can look and function. After the revolution, people are finally getting their cities back and developing a sense of ownership. Even the experience of the revolution was about that; walking from Zamalek to Tahrir Square was an experience in itself, because I had never walked on Kasr al Nil Bridge before. We’ve been living here for so many years and yet we always felt like we didn’t own anything; it was as if we were all foreigners. Now that we feel like we own the country again, we can make it better in terms of design. This will take years, but it will happen. SALLY: Where do you see the future of Egypt’s design community heading? SHAHIRA: I mostly hope that education will improve, for designers and in general. When I think about design education in Egypt my heart really hurts because it’s such a huge issue and it will take a lot of time to improve it. Developing more competition and opportunities for designers would also have a huge impact for the community, because such things will challenge the current criteria, push for the improvement of 96

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DINA: I think the design community has a lot of roles to play, especially with creating competitions, whether they are local or international. For example, the memorial competition that was held for the World Trade Centre was an international competition and any designer could participate and in the end I think the chosen design was one of the most beautiful architectural pieces I have ever seen. Events like these raise awareness, they create a public space and they commemorate an event and we could have this same thing here, especially given the events since last January. We have a lot of spaces that could benefit from something like this. I think with more of these kinds of efforts, such as the creation of the Egyptian Design Forum, we can really make a huge CHERIF: The local design community has no- difference in the country. where to go except forward. It won’t be easy though, as design will have to be re-thought MONA: With an increased interest in the field of in the way it is actually taught and sold. Uni- design by professionals and individuals alike, I’m versities will have to rely on an eclectic mix of certain that the local design community will conestablished designers to give workshops to ex- tinue to expand and influence future generations change knowledge with future design students, of designers. One direction I’d like the design scene but there also needs to be a big shift in the to take would be to move towards creating a design cultural policies on the state level too. There are trademark for Egypt whereby different elements good initiatives already operating and making of our culture and heritage are reflected in all the a great effort but these initiatives should start disciplines of design, from architecture to interiors, getting more support and have more diversified furniture design and more, rather than focusing on and carefully planned design events. Western approaches to design and importing them into the local context. education and also drive young potential designers because the environment will be tougher. I think we’re at the beginning of that already. I meet so many young designers who have amazing ideas, thanks in part to the new media age that we’re living in. Young architects and designers in Egypt know that the system is not giving them the experience that it should, so they work on themselves by researching on the internet and exposing themselves to more things. They can even post their work online. These opportunities weren’t there when I was a student, and the young designers I meet really do give me a lot of hope and inspiration.

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art & Design

communicating the incommunicable by Karim Mekhtigian

FORTY WEST APARTMENTS, INTERIORS by Eklego Design Photo Sodic

“Only if consciousness is radically altered and transmuted from ordinary level of everyday perception to a subtle level of perception, so that every object is perceived in its perfect archetypal form, which is contained within the absolute.”- Stanislas Klossowski de Rola.

VOODOO ASHTRAY BY CHERIF MORSI

RAS EL KHEIMA BY MONA HUSSEIN

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hinking about the nature of our society and the multilayered reality of our culture, it became evident that in order to change people’s perception in such a diverse environment, one needs a certain medium to effectively reach/ touch people. While some might argue that the power to change may be in the power to communicate, I find comfort in knowing that design can be a great tool of self-expression and story telling. For years, I have been trying to translate, through design, certain elements inspired from our culture. In an attempt to express consciousness about Egypt and to speak a language that is universal, I decided to adopt an alerted definition of Alchemy and make it my own. Although some choose define Alchemy as “the medieval chemistry and speculative philosophy aimed at transforming base metal into gold”, for me it has a deeper meaning rooted in our own culture, where the definition of the word is derived from Al-Kymia (Arabic for chemistry), which in turn is derived from Kyme (Egypt)- known as the black land. However, the black land, which despite all the beauty within its diversity also encounters considerable challenges. In a country where cultural diversity is embedded in the multilayered nature of its society, sometimes we get lost in translation and we accordingly find ourselves in an inevitable communication crisis. While this archetypal disadvantage goes against the nature of our collective consciousness, I can’t help but notice its affect on our daily life. Therefore, in the light of the “Revolution”, “Arab Spring” and latest uprisings, I find myself thinking about the origin of the current situation and I am faced with the following conclusion: “the problem is that we are unable/incapable to effectively communicate on every level”. But the question remains, how does design fit into all of this chaos? On that thought, I am tempted to think that design serves as a tool to create guidelines or methods that allow us to communicate a certain code of harmony. Through adopting a certain precision and order, this code addresses the beauty and serenity that are emerging from the apparent chaos within our culture. As a result, sacred proportions and standard forms are

used as instruments to help balance and adjust our perception in an attempt to communicate the incommunicable. On another level, design also acts as a catalyst that allows us to explore our cultural diversity with all its different layers. From its geographical location to its historic background, Egypt was destined to have a multifaceted identity, one that could be described as the perfect African, Arab, Mediterranean, Pharaonic, Coptic, Islamic without forgetting Ottoman, French and British mille-feuille. Analysing this description, it became apparent that this unconventional reference suggests how Egypt’s layers would coexist in the absolute. Unfortunately, in spite of all of these notions I am still left wondering if I should be talking about design. So I leave with this final thought: If contemporary designers should not only provide function, form and meaning but also draft the scripts that allow people and objects to develop and improvise a discourse; should we (design professionals) speak now? Or should we forever hold our peace in the midst of the current social/political/intellectual crisis?

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BOHème

photography PHOTO BOUTIQUE designer AMINA KHALIL

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Left: Tee with a Fringe; Right: Fringe 2SL

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Left: Tee with a Fringe; Right: Fringe 2S

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“This is not graffiti”, the commercial death of Cairo street art? by angie balata

“If you take graffiti off a street wall and put it inside a confined space, is it still graffiti? Does street art maintain its value when you remove the noise, the faces, and the life of the streets and put it on a safe wall?” These are the questions posed by Soraya Morayef, managing editor at Cairo360.com and the blogger-turned graffiti groupie-turned amateur curator of the Townhouse Gallery’s September exhibition of This Is Not Graffiti. The show brought together nine of Cairo’s most prolific post-January 25 artists: Keizer, Sad Panda, El Teneen, Adham Bakry, Dokhan, Hend Kheera, Hany Khaled, and Charles Akl and Amr Gamal. The artists were given the dream offer for any street Michelangelo: unlimited access to a large space, paid resources, and complete freedom to express whatever their mind’s desires. A pretty sweet offer, especially for a group of artists just starting to find themselves—it would be foolish to reject. One such artist did and I suspect it has a lot to do with the basic argument of the entire exhibit, does graffiti retain any sense of legitimacy when not only is it brought indoors, but shown in a gallery space that has gone so far as to create false sense of “street”. These are the issues Morayef and I discussed when I interviewed her about the exhibition. Sitting in an outdoor café in one of Cairo’s posh areas, not far away from some of the first pieces of graffiti in Cairo, Morayef meets me for the interview. She walks in with confidence and sits comfortably waiting for me to introduce myself and my mission. The interview, I explain, will be more like a conversation to discuss different aspects of the exhibition, but mainly focusing on the concept, the administration and implementation, the general public’s reaction and the artists’ reaction. Out of curiosity, I ask how Morayef got into graffiti in the first place. She tells me that her blog, “Suzee in the city”, which is mostly dedicated to graffiti, began after a conversation with a friend about the new rise and transience of graffiti in Cairo and the need to document it. According to Morayef, this spiralled into a series of blog posts due to the positive reaction from people and social media allowed the access to, and connections with other artists and documenters. All of this gave her the necessary foundation about the local scene to approach the Townhouse Gallery in search of funding for a book project she wanted to do on the subject. As she gave her pitch to Townhouse, she mentioned in passing the idea of holding an exhibition as part of the book project. The hard-to-please owner of the Townhouse, William Wells, saw a unique opportunity in the moment and, well, the idea became a show. Wells and Morayef agreed on the basic framework, including dedicating the gallery’s entire massive factory space to the project and giving artists free reign to do what they will with the pieces allotted to them. But there 112

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was always uncertainty about whether the ever-elusive majority of Cairene graffiti artists would agree, especially in light of the institutional aspect of the art space. Drawing up a list of the key artists based her own profiling, interviews and/or actual connections she had made with them, Morayef approached the artists. The focus was artists in Cairo, which she explained was largely a result of feeling like Cairo was the space she most understood and had the most contacts in. Except for the prolific and eclectic Ganzeer, all had agreed and some suggested others to join. Surprisingly, as many of the artists have been notorious about not appearing publicly in any way outside of the pieces they stealthily and quietly create on Cairo’s streets, many of the artists agreed to do the exhibition. I asked her about her opinion for the impetus behind the artists’ participating and she explained that each came in with their own agenda. Adham Bakry and Sad Panda, she told me, wanted to send a message whereas Hany Khaled and Hend Kheera were both excited by the fact of having a large space and complete freedom to paint what they wanted without interference from the street. She explained that El Teneen, a friend of hers, supported the idea, but struggled with the concept until the final stages. All in all, it seems that the each artist wanted what every artist dreams off—a piece in a gallery. And this is where the conversation got more interesting. The graffiti I grew up with and saw around the world was always in the street, the only available space for those segregated and excluded from the circles of “high art”. The gallery art world used to be the arch-rival of graffiti art, refusing to accept the former as an art form. Moreover, graffiti is illegal in most countries, consequently, creating a unique environment in which the art form flourished--so now to put it indoors, and in a gallery of all places, seemed blasphemous and a selling out of sorts on the part of the artists. How do we as the avid observers and long time supporters of the art form reconcile ourselves with that? Never mind us, how do the artists? In the days prior to the event, Morayef sets up the exhibition as social experiment of sorts, writing on her blog: “The cool thing about graffiti is that there are no rules and nothing off limit; this experimentation at Townhouse will leave viewers to decide if the art they see on the wall is graffiti or not, if it incites the same reactions as it would out on the streets. There is no right answer or easy conclusion; it’s up to you to figure it out. Also, if you’re a graffiti fan like me, it’s a pretty cool exhibition to check out.1” However, the entire thing seems contradictory, especially when you consider that the exhibition is described as “not graffiti” yet providing a space with walls similar in look 1 http://suzeeinthecity.wordpress.com/2011/09/10/this-is-not-graffiti-group-exhibition-attownhouse-gallery-of-contemporary-art/

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--Charles Akl & Amr Gamal

and touch as those on the street, in addition to having graffiti artists do actual graffiti on these walls seemed very much like an attempt to recreate graffiti, indoors. In discussing this with Morayef, it was clear that the contradiction depends largely on how you see graffiti and art in the public space. The name for the exhibition, according to her, was a result of a debate with artists and with others about whether graffiti inside a space would actually be graffiti. She began with her own view that graffiti inside or outside would be still considered graffiti and the concept was developed around a series of questions posed to the audience and the expectation was that each person would figure it out for themselves. The artists were working under what she felt were the perfect conditions:

lots of time, considerable space, resources and a threat free environment. Moreover, she insisted on the Townhouse Gallery agreeing to no censorship and no control. She discovered that many struggled with the idea and their responses to it. But some, like Adham Bakry and Sad Panda had simple messages and were done quickly. She also discovered that the solitary experiences of each artist began to transform into one of community and interaction. She believes that graffiti can be graffiti as long as there is no imposition on the artist. For her, it can be inside or outside, the location is not important, as long as the artists retain their full freedoms to express. For her, the environmental factor, including the street itself, the differing textures of walls, the noise and all that comes with it, is secondary to the K A L I M AT

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ADHAM BAKRY

absolute freedom crucial to the authenticity of the art form. So, were there any problems of interference from the “art” establishment? Morayef describes an instance where the “establishment” via Wells began to cross boundaries. Illustratively, she says that the Sad Panda piece was a point of concern for Wells as he thought Sad Panda could have done better and suggested that perhaps that particular piece could have been reworked. For Morayef, when Wells entered the conversation it became an issue of the art institution and its imposition of what can and can’t be considered art. While Sad Panda himself responded positively to the idea of reworking his piece, Townhouse did not want to pick up the bill for the additional resources. So, was it successful? Morayef originally chose to do this because it was a “crazy opportunity” that she was given as an amateur who just took pictures of graffiti. The opportunity allowed her to meet other artists and take a private debate more publicly—thus, a personal success, especially in light of the turnout. For many of the newspapers reporting on that night, the exhibition was problematic. Among the many negative critiques, The Daily News headline announced the exhibition as “a pretend display of Egyptian graffiti at a disappointing Townhouse exhibit” and expressed that “the disappointment in this project is evident upon entry, when one’s expecting that — given the legitimacy of the space and therefore the unlimited time, comfort and lack of need for a getaway plan that graffiti artists have to deal with in public spaces — the work would be provocative, raw and outstanding.” When I asked her about this, she shrugged indifferently and explained that these reactions were reactions of the “art critics”. The chatter regardless of positive or negative, is great because the discussion is interesting as there is no right or wrong answer. When it comes to the actual graffiti produced, she had expected something but the artists produced something completely different. She learned that you can’t force anyone to do what you expect or hope you can only stand back and watch the process unfold. The crowning glory for her was that in the end, one person had responded to the entire event by spraying a stencil outside the exhibition space that said “howwa dah ba2a graffiti ya habiby” (that is graffiti, of course, my dear) and Sad Panda tagged his signature Panda on one of the outer walls of the exhibition—veritable proof that graffiti can exist inside. On the part of the artists and audience, the reaction was lukewarm at best. One artist viewed the gallery representation of an art form that belonged in the street to be juvenile and attention seeking. Two of the artists, Adham Bakry and Sad Panda, outright insulted both the idea and the Townhouse Gallery. Morayef points out that the artists participated freely and many of the people who came were well known underground graffiti artists who had originally told her the idea was ridiculous and the Townhouse was crap for doing this, but came anyway. She feels this was a small accomplishment. She thinks people, particularly the artists, came out because the graffiti scene is competitive, but still one with amiable interaction. So likely those who showed up came out to support friends and/or see what was being produced. And returning back to the institutional aspect of it, Morayef points out that a well-established graffiti artist was brought recently from Spain to do graffiti at the Townhouse, and so would this not also be considered graffiti? As long as there is no imposition and it is still raw, then it is graffiti, she adds. In another conversation with two of the artists who participated, the project fulfilled their expectations and more. Hend Kheera explained that the space was amazing, there were no restrictions and all had complete freedom to do what they want. Both felt that the Townhouse may have, in fact, been too hands off and would have appreciated more administrative support from the gallery. For Hend, the project intrigued her because of not only the complete creative freedom she had, but, also the physical freedom to move and paint without harassment. Hany added that the idea of graffiti is not whether it is indoors or outdoors, but it is the art itself. Hend explained: “Graffit is a matter of breaking rules, so why don’t I break the rules of where graffiti should be or is expected to be and do it in a gallery space?” They both felt that they might repeat it again as long as the same degree of freedom is made available. 114

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For what it’s worth, I attended the exhibition with the sure feeling that I would hate it thoroughly. And I did. On an artistic level, the pieces were interesting but clearly the work of art of a generation still trying to find itself. As one artist friend recently pointed out, the exhibition was set up for icons that are nowhere near the experience necessary for this kind of show and have yet to prove that status. Adham Bakry and Sad Panda definitely achieved the shock status and the bitter response to the gallery world, but one that is falsely contrived the moment they agreed to this exhibition—their pieces might have seemed more natural had they been painted outside of the gallery. Some of the artists, for all the bravado and secrecy which they guard closely, came short of offering anything worth a second look. Charles Akl and Amr Gamal made slight modifications to the unoriginal Pulp Fiction piece they had previously painted on an actual street and El Teneen, for the effort he has put into tagging “replica” around what he views as imitative work by Keizer, himself produced a copied image of the ‘barcode zebra’ and unexcitingly, and seemingly out of place, added Qaddafi’s head. Hend Kheera’s bold piece and Hany Khaled’s signature colour piece offered anything close to originality and art. All in all, it was abundantly clear that the artists, for the most part, produced pieces that said mostly nothing about them as artists. More broadly, the exhibition itself was a complete hoax and contradiction in terms. As a prolific German graffiti artist friend of mine mused: “This is no graffiti” as a title is misleading because it doesn’t really remain true to the art form displayed, which is graffiti, and doesn’t give credit to the hard work of the artists that are graffiti artists. The title should have been given to reflect that the gallery was an exhibition of art that began with graffiti but moved to something beyond. Unlike my friend, I’m an avid believer in the essential street aspect for graffiti. Having seen it in different places around the world and followed some of the greats, it’s hard to be convinced that graffiti inside is anything worth seeing. There is something great and utterly unique about passing under a bridge or alleyway or a side street and seeing the pieces of art that someone has left for you to find. The exhibition made this impossible by excluding everyone but the friends of artists and that small number of people who would have heard about it from even smaller circles of communication. Once you enter the gallery world, as admittedly many graffiti artists have done, the art itself changes—it must in some way as you are no longer producing in the street. I don’t like the idea of seeing art, especially street art, inside because of the exclusionary aspect, but I can understand the need for the “high culture” world as represented by galleries to acknowledge street art as a viable form of art. The problem is that this exhibition reflects a larger issue in Egyptian society, one that the Revolution has unfortunately not affected, and that is the issue of accessibility to space. Graffiti historically responded to the counter need to having accessible space for those not heard, not seen and not allowed to join the circles. It was the art form of the oppressed and the segregated. The problem in Egypt is we have a tendency to want to “own” things, we want to take things over and make it “our” contribution to society and, often, it is surrounded by large fanfares and chatter among the inner circles of the elites, the “Westernised”, the “activists”, and other cliques. We appropriate, we segregate, and we display to and within our circles. We do not engage, interact, or invite the outside world. And in that lies a sad whisper of hypocrisy. The beauty of graffiti is not the rawness or the environment, which without a doubt are fundamental to aesthetic quality. No, the beauty of graffiti is in its social aspects—the quiet conversation between the artist and audience. It is a silent conversation that invites everyone to participate, no matter what social or political class, no matter what age or gender. I’ve been on a couple of graffiti runs with some artists and the engagement with the street, the interest that passerbys show and the need to want to see and know what art is all about—a conversation and a bridge between people. When we segregate ourselves, that conversation stops and those bridges are not built.

HEND KHEERA

SAD PANDA reads “Graffiti is in the street, and this is not graffiti you sons of scum/dirt”

HK (HANY KHALED) - piece was unfinished

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the creative space: rethinking fashion education in beirut by RANIM HADID

nspired by an idea, Sarah Hermez is one of the very few people who have been able to implement her dream into a reality. After completing her studies at Parsons/New School in New York City with a double major in Fashion and Media and Culture, Sarah moved to Lebanon to start her dream. Hermez is the founder of The Creative Space, a fashion programme committed to providing fashion education to designers from various backgrounds that work together in order to create an haute-couture collection. The significance of the name “Creative Space” comes from the idea of not limiting the organisation in the future, as they would like to expand into more than just a fashion design programme. “We were thinking about a name for a while, but this one just seemed to suit it most, it really is a space for people to be creative,” Hermez said. Born and raised in Kuwait, Hermez, who is of LebaneseArmenian origin, wanted to give back to the Lebanese people and moved to Lebanon in order to start this project. “Where else can someone feel most free to give back other than their own country? It was time for me to learn about the country I am from,” Hermez said. After working with Unite Lebanon’s Youth, a local NGO, she was able to circle refugee camps and women’s institutes

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to find potential candidates who would be interested in her idea. “I had no credibility at first, it was just me and my teacher from New York, but I really believed in it and that’s what got the girls to believe in me,” Hermez said. Rania Dalloul, Hermez’s childhood friend, joined the team to help with advertising and marketing. Dalloul runs the website and Facebook page which surprised them by the attention it garnered, “People wanted to know more, so I started updating more often,” Dalloul said. Dalloul’s contribution isn’t limited to marketing, advertising and website maintenance, she also teaches the five students English classes three times a week. “They wanted to learn English, so they just asked me,” Dalloul said. “My Arabic is very weak so it’s always an exchange,” she continued. The requirements for the girls who want to join the Creative Space are very basic: passion is their priority. Another important qualification is to have previous creative work done, whether it involves sketching or drawing. The girls, aged 17-23 are talented and had previous experience in fashion design. In order for the dresses to be of top quality, Donna Karen New York (DKNY) donated the fabrics that are currently being used for the designs. They are hoping to receive a second shipment and more fabrics will also be sent from Parsons.

Baraa Al Abdullah, a 20-year-old Palestinian born in Saida (Sidon), attended UNRWA’s Sibleen training centre to learn about fashion design. Hermez discovered Al Abdullah after she contacted the school to find students who would be interested in her idea. “My parents were first against the idea and were worried about me finding a job later on but I believe that I have a future in this industry,” Al Abdullah said. At first, some girls had difficulty leaving the camps because it was not considered a successful field to enter by their families. Al Abdullah is inspired by her passion and doesn’t enforce any rules in what the girls must design in order to enhance their creativity. “Sometimes I start by making a top and I end up with a dress, our ideas develop as we design,” Al Abdullah says. Eman Aswad, a 19-year-old Palestinian who previously attended MDM Technical College, felt as though she could not use her design skills to the best of her ability. “When I met Sarah, I felt more comfortable with my work, I was doing what I was feeling and not what I was told,” Aswad said. Aswad felt that working with the Creative Space would allow her to grow as a designer. Unlike most fashion institutes in Lebanon, the Creative Space does not apply rules about design to the students. “I have so much freedom with my designs, when I’m done with them, I really feel like it’s my work and not someone else’s,” Aswad said. Nourhan Abdellatif, a 17-year-old Palestinian born in Shatila and the last one to join the programme, never thought that fashion design would be her field of study: “In

my family, design is not really liked, although my parents fully support me.” The two other students in the Creative Space are Sophie Youssef, a 20-year-old Lebanese and Carmen Havatian, a 23-year-old Lebanese-Armenian. Youssef received all her support from her father and enrolled in Graphic Design until Hermez discovered her and she joined the Creative Space. Havatian is studying Graphic Design at the Lebanese University but has always been interested in fashion design and hopes to create her own line. For Hermez and Dalloul, the Creative Space is a place for students to feel a connection with their designs: “We want to expand in terms of not just being fashion design, the idea of this is that it’s an education where you’re producing,” Hermez says. “The project is sustainable, the more we produce, we generate income which is advantageous for the students,” Hermez continues. What’s next for the Creative Space? Dalloul hopes to “grow, into different forms of creative expression.” www.creativespacebeirut.com

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acclaimed: international designers on egyptian design

Christophe Pillet photo Romain Cabon

French designer and architect, Christophe Pillet has had a history of collaboration with the Egyptian design scene for some time now. He recalls his experiences and some of the challenges that were encountered in what could be called an “early period.” The many conversations that took place shaped things until the present day, and the lessons learned remain fruitful for Egyptian—and Arab—creatives now more than ever.

by KARIM SULTAN

CP: It was. There were obligations, no rules—it was like doing music, you know. I was a musician when I was young, that is what I wanted to do, and I still consider that my job should be like that, with no constraints of answering to specific industrial questions, just expressing what we have in mind, our vision, our desires, being very free. KS: On a side note, what kind of music were you making? CP: I was playing rock and funk music, and I was a keyboard player. I sang as well. KS: That sounds like a lot of fun. CP: It was, actually.

KS: How would you introduce KS: You mentioned you were in touch with Karim Mekhtegian. yourself? Were you mostly working with Alchemy when you were in Egypt, or did you establish other links with other organisations in the CP: I am a designer, and as a design scene there? designer my activity goes into designing [consumer] prod- CP: It was more than ten or twelve years ago, and the design ucts, furniture, and industrial scene was not that big, not the way it is today with so many products. On the other hand, I talented designers and strong companies. It was mostly a few gradually became an interior ar- friends who, together, trying to compete with, or trying to belong chitect, then an architect prop- to the international design scene. It was just a few designers er, working on hotels, fashion (who we are still in touch with today), and we started making shops, and private residence. I prototypes with Alchemy. Slowly we had the opportunity to am based in Paris, but I am working, as you would say, “around.” make connections with other companies as well. KS: Working internationally, “around,” was there anything that KS: You mentioned a sort of friendly atmosphere when working made you decide to collaborate with Egyptian companies, or did with Karim and other collaborators there. What were the more or sort of happen by chance? enjoyable, and the most challenging things you had to encounter? CP: It happened by chance. On my job, I wasn’t pretending to be a designer at first, it just happened very randomly. I decided, when I became a designer, that I would follow that adventure of going here and there, and having good collaborations with people. I didn’t then, and still don’t now, have any professional goals of doing things that are cool and nice or what not. I don’t feel like I have any specific mission or goals; I am just spending good times with people. Being in Egypt was the same kind of opportunity. I had a good friend there, Karim Mekhtigian, whom I met in Paris, who asked me if I wanted to spend some time in doing projects with him and his friends. My interaction with the Egyptian industry and Egyptian companies started more as friends’ Sunday hobby, even while doing it very precisely and professionally. It was a very nice opportunity being in Egypt and trying to set up a few things. KS: That sounds fantastic actually.

CP: The most enjoyable was the pressure those men and women had to reach that international design scene. They were spending a lot of time working, considering themselves challengers in a way. What’s good about that is the attempt to find your own way, doing things alternatively. You don’t reach the international scene doing the same things that have already been done. We had a lot of discussions about “the Egyptian way” of doing things, the local aspects of culture, all these discussions and debates that were very interesting. That was more than just doing chairs and sofas. There was that goal of expressing something different, that pride of being a challenger, and the pride of coming from a small design nation. Not a small country, because Egypt is not at all a small country, but in terms of design and the industry there. There weren’t a lot of companies, and not a lot of international experience with specific, technical know-how. This aspect, which could sound negative, was for us something very positive. As you know, the industry of furniture is not a very technological one: its still craftsmen making things. In Italy,

for example, there are people working metals with theirs hands. It’s not like the cosmetic industry, or the automotive industry in that aspect—it’s still connected to the craft and the craftsmen. KS: What were some of the inspirations of this time, and how did it reflect in the designs that came of it? CP: I would say mostly the energy of people. I can’t say that there was a main source of inspiration. I’m not the kind of guy saying, “I have read this book yesterday,” and dedicating the rest of my life to work on it. No, it was more being a group of challengers and trying to find out how to compete with people from Italy and the UK and so on. It was more looking to what had been accomplished elsewhere, and also look inward to see what distinct thing could be brought out in the work. There were also talks about traditional culture and craftsmanship, which was fun, because I don’t believe that traditional culture, in its replication, makes a difference in contemporary design culture. It’s more feeling, emotion, it’s more the philosophical, the political, the ideological. The difference is not where you come from in terms of the quantity of references to traditional craftsmanship, it’s more the enthusiasm that makes the difference. Sorry this answer is somewhat abstract! They were looking for patterns as ingredients in the local, traditional culture. I said to them, “Who cares about that! You are Egyptian, so if you are designing you will be an Egyptian designer; that’s it. Just put your enthusiasm and desires into it.” You don’t need to put what I call “exotic references.” We must take the local craftsmanship and industries for the qualities and flexibility: this is giving you an identity, and its not putting patterns of ancient Egypt that will make a difference. KS: Did you find that you had to change your workflow or design process being in Egypt in this collaborative context? Or did things come naturally? CP: It was a little bit of both. In terms of time, things were going pretty slowly in coming up with prototypes and pieces of furniture. It was giving us enough time to think about how a design could be done differently. You know, usually when you are working you have you project and its done. Here it was complex. I’m used to working with big industries, which are fast and there is a lot of embedded knowledge with the tooling and particular techniques. That was not the case here. The idea was how to finally take advantage of the very particular craftsmanship in Egypt, to make things, not different, but with a certain— fragrance? It might look the same, but you know that there is something different. Not dry, being tooled by machines, but made with a lot of passion, and with a desire to learn. KS: Are there any anecdotes that reflect this process? Or was it sort of a blur? CP: No, I remember something specific, that while working with wood, the craftsmen were trying to reproduce a very smooth, plastic effect. I remember fighting with them, telling them, “You are working on wood; don’t reproduce plastic, just express what’s wood.” They had the desire of doing the absolute best they could, “the best” was to reproduce aspects of industrially produced objects. I said to them “We don’t care about that—if it’s not perfect its good,” which I love. I love those

differences. They were working with metal by hand, but attempted to reproduce the perfect finishes of something produced by big tools or moulds, and they were surprised when I said to them that I like the errors, the traces of handmade things by humans.

to teach them something and seeing young companies and young protagonists being able to produce things at a top level, reconsidering their point of view on the quality of what is produced. KS: Is it getting to a point where that initial competitiveness is paying off?

KS: What do you attribute this attitude to? CP: It was a sort of shyness, I suppose. They were aware of their position, and expecting to be part of the international scene, taking the main models of products and were trying to replicate them. Its like trying to belong to a club, and dressing like the regulars—it could come across as fake. But we learned not to care about copying those models. You don’t have to dress—and of course, it’s an analogy—you don’t have to dress like those people. Dress the way you want! You have to enhance your particularities instead of erasing them. I would even say that it was being ashamed of their knowledge and their lack of knowledge, which was not at all a lack of knowledge, simply not having those industrial machines, of replicating things by hand that others were doing by machine. We should do the best with our tools and our knowledge, even if things look like they’re handmade or whatever. It’s like if you are making music: If you are French or German, and try to imitate American groups or UK groups, you’ll just sound, well, fake. Don’t be ashamed to sing in French or German. But there’s always this fear if you express your local language and culture not to be on the level of the “models.” KS: Especially if there is something else out there that’s much more established. CP: That’s exactly the problem, looking towards establishments. And they were, mostly in this case Italian companies. But we must not. We can be part of a successful establishment if we are an alternative to it; but you must compete with it, show your own direction, your own way. KS: There have been a few initiatives in the past few years in terms of Egyptian design. How do you see where things are going, especially in light of your involvement? What do you as the future of the work you were part of? CP: At the very beginning, there was a lot of energy there, with a limited capacity to express, but still this attitude of “We are really going to get into those other Western countries with our designs.” There have been a lot of inviting back and forth as well in the industry with international designers and architects, to where there was a sort of cross-contamination, taking and sharing experience and skills, not only to the growing Egyptian design scene, but to the international designers as well. After twenty years of an “international style,” people became very bored and looked after something more particular, expressing more local points of view. In that sense, Egypt—and I’m not being flattering in any way—belongs to the rising countries of design with Brazil, Korea, and countries like Sweden which are more established, but are known as having a very specific, and internationally recognisable for having certain ways of doing design. Since I’ve been living this life for a while, and I’ve seen, more than once, people coming to Egypt with the idea that it was sort of a “third world design country” and being surprised by level of work produced there. Imagine, arrogant, larger Italian companies thinking they were going

CP: As far as Europe, as design countries we are old countries. There is no input; we have said what we have to say. We have everything we need and we are not fighting to exist. For me, in the cultural dimension, what’s new comes from the desire to fight for things, and not just being established. Definitely, if you are looking to the world panorama of design, what is good isn’t coming from Europe, it is coming from those “small design countries,” and Egypt is definitely a part of it. KS: There are definitely many stories to tell, and design is a medium for telling them, exploring them. CP: Certainly. The international panorama is expecting new stories, and we as Western people, have no stories; we are always singing the same songs. We can come up with new interpretations of those songs, but in the end its nothing new. KS: Is there anything new you are excited about? CP: Personally, there are many projects. I am actually finding far more freedom and perspective with clients outside of France or Europe. I still have my clients in Europe, but it is still with projects that are very established, not with as much curiosity in doing them. KS: So it seems that it is more open to new ideas outside of Europe? CP: The future is something that no longer belongs to Europe or Western countries. When I work with European clients there is a great anxiety about, say, the economic situation, the future, that there is no positive or fresh energy. When you’re working with others, you feel that there is a sort of potential, in the quality of experimentation and things you can explore.

KS: Speaking of exploration, as many of our readers tend to be developing creatives and at the beginnings of their careers, what would you want to tell them?

CP: Don’t go too fast and leave us established people some space! [laughs] I would say what I was saying earlier: don’t trust the other too much, just trust yourself and go ahead. The world is expecting new things, not expecting the same, established things. Many times young people, and young energy, will reproduce existing things to exist, but things are changing. The world is expecting new models; you have to be confident in yourself and not in the old.

www.christophepillet.com

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Harry&Camila photo Rainer Hosch Francesco Rota photo www.woont.com

Francesco Rota started his own design studio in 1998. Ever since, the Italian designer has worked in different fields of design ranging from products, furniture to corporate and residential interior as well as events. He has been awarded two honourable mentions for the Compasso d’Oro with the Linea Chaise Longue and Island Collection for Paola Lenti, which are today in the Historical Collection of the ADI Compasso d’Oro Award. In addition to taking part in several exhibitions held at Triennale di Milano and Royal Academy of Arts in London among others, he has been teaching since 2004 in the Master Research Study Programme in Industrial Design at the Istituto Europeo di Design in Milan in collaboration with Magis.

While designing for local companies, what were your sources of inspiration? And how were they reflected in your designs?

I think that my curiosity and my fantasy are big contributors in my projects, however, different aspects contaminate each project’s process during the development phase. The fact that I travel a lot for business and pleasure definitely allows me to constantly absorb information related to different cultures. For example, if we take food and all the elements related to nutrition, the way it is prepared, presented and consumed, is a factor that strongly distinguishes different cultures. Only thinking about Italy, you can notice that every 50/100 km the scenery changes, as well as the cuisine and the dialect amongst other As international designers, what made you decide to col- things. On the other hand, people’s behaviour and lifestyle also laborate with Egyptian companies? Which companies have change according to the climate zone they live in. In brief, for you worked with? me travelling represents a fascinating way of nurturing creativity and it always influences the development of my projects. I met Karim Mekhtigian, owner of “Alchemy Design Studio”, a few years ago in Tokyo through my friend Shimpei Tominaga Working within a foreign culture, did you have to change and we immediately hit it off. He asked me if I wanted to de- or adjust your regular work/design process? sign some products for his company and I agreed, even though it took quite some time before I started to work. Finally, he No, I just fine-tune it a little bit to meet the expectations. decided to come and visit me in Italy, then we chose together some of the designs I had developed for Alchemy Cairo. The Given the different initiatives that were done during the “Gouna Collection” as well as the “Hexagon Tables” created for past few years, how do you see the future of the Egyptian Alchemy was my first collaboration in the country, however, I Design Industry? still hope to work on more projects with other companies within the Arab region. Hopefully, I’ll get the chance to build other I think that in the near future, when Egypt will be more stable, long lasting professional relationships like the ones I have with there will hopefully be such a desire of redemption that the international brands such as Paola Lenti, Lema, Living Divani, Egyptian industry will have a great opportunity to satisfy the needs and the desires of the entire Arab population! O luce, Moroso, Archetipo, Frag and many others. Having worked with local manufacturers, what would you say was the most enjoyable and challenging parts of their collaborations? I really enjoyed the super-hospitality of my Karim. I really love how he tried to bring everyone together, and of course, the parties at his place! It was a great experience to work with a big crowd of collaborators that share this beautiful project with him.

www.francescorota.com

Harry&Camila, these “Creators of Signs” are known for their mysterious objects, exemplars of vibrant design of the 21st century. The futuristic shapes of their designs are reminiscent of technologies applied to high speed. Their imagery draws from aeronautical performances, with fantasies of aircraft wings, space travel and spaceships. Their resulting design approach concentrates on experimentation with materials and topologies. This dynamic duo has been working with different international design brands such as Living Divani, Kristalia, Dedon and Casamania among others.

which they handle an industrial project. However, we do have an experimental design approach so it was quiet interesting. While designing for local companies, what were your sources of inspiration? And how were they reflected in your designs? Our main source of inspiration was the country’s rich history and the present. The local culture definitely had an influence; we usually put great interest in personal seeking and free expressions so we like to concentrate on the analysis of identities and human behaviour.

[...]I’ve seen, more than once, people coming to Egypt with the idea that it was sort of a “third world design country” and being surprised by level of work produced there. As international designers, what made you decide to collaborate with Egyptian companies? Which companies have you worked with? It all started in 2008, when we got invited to be a part of an initiative organised by the Egyptian Furniture Export Council (EFEC) and the IED Centro Ricerche of Milan. During the “1st Design + Industry Workshop”, we got the chance to work on developing different furniture pieces for local manufacturers. The purpose was to create products that come out the Egyptian culture, so we came up with the “E-Walk Seating Collection” for Karassi + Karassi and “Sun Stools” for mohm, which were all exhibited at Kyme, the Egyptian stand at Salone Internazionale del Mobile. Then in 2010, we collaborated with Alchemy Cairo and designed the “Satellite Collection” for their official collection, launched last year.

Working within a foreign culture, did you have to change or adjust your regular work/design process? No and we never will… We only work with foreign cultures and we take it as a challenge and learn from the experience. At this point we would be taking a turn to our designs, as we initially put great interest in personal seeking and free expressions, therefore we would rather like to concentrate our interest in the analysis of the current identities and human behaviour. Given the different initiatives in the past few years, how do you see the future of the Egyptian Design Industry? The Egyptian Design Industry still has a long way to go! www.harrycamila.com

Having worked with local manufacturers, what would you say was the most enjoyable and challenging parts of the collaborations? Well it would have to be the artisanal and handcraft way in

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alchemy design

text KARIM SULTAN infographic DANAH ABDULLA

How does the Egyptian context fit into the design process?

Top: Hacienda Duplex - Roof Pool (design Mohamed Fares) Bottom: Hacienda White House (design by Mohamed Fares and Rania Loutfi, photos Hussein Shaaban)

It is supposed to have great potential.

Is there a specific and unified sense intended to be evoked with the interior work, or is it dependent on the space and the client? If so, attempt to illuminate that process.

What is the projected future of the brand?

Usually spaces dictate what is the best technique to translate a certain concept into interiors. We try to take a comprehensive approach towards designing a project; in a way it is like coming up with the most adequate equation combining the volume, the clients’ demands and our vision to reach the best solution. If we really have to pin it all down to one element, it will be what we like to call “human-tech”.

We have always described the brand to be emerging out of chaos. Therefore, generally as “Alchemy Cairo”, a furniture brand based on the Egyptian culture, we have decided to readjust to the current transitional period in our country. This quote by Jimmy Dean sums it up “I can’t change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination.” www.alchemy01.com

There is a diverse set of educational and practical backgrounds to each member—what is the importance of the educational aspect? What recommendations are there for design-based education in Egypt and the region?

Alchemy Design Studio (the office) Throughout the years, we have been trying to incorporate the nature of the Egyptian lifestyle within the spaces that we have created. We usually do our best to analyse the different layers of the Egyptian way of living that are embedded in our culture in order to come up with design solutions that also serve our clients’ individual needs. There are certain common traits that we find in most of our clients, which is a true representation of our collective memory. Most of the time, the living areas are the most important parts of the house because as Egyptians, we have an innate desire to gather during events to share and communicate. It also exudes a key aspect of Cairene life, where a certain culture of “warmth” brings people together in social gatherings. This warmth can also be represented in the selection of certain materials or colour schemes that reflects perfectly the nature of the people inhabiting our interiors. At the end, it is about understanding where people come from and tell their stories through what we call “narrative environments or spaces.”

work together.

We do our best to use our diversity positively; in a way we complement each other. However, nowadays it is important to have a more diversified design education. Unfortunately the concept of designed-based education is still new in our country so it is difficult to find this diversity. On the other hand, there are some private universities that are trying to focus on this type of education in order to fill a certain market gap but it will take time until this profession is fully backed up with a well-established, design-oriented education system.

Satellite Collection (design Harry&Camila) photo Hussein Shaaban

Is there the notion that design or design-based thinking can play a larger role (i.e. socially)?

Top: Hacienda House (design Mohamed Fares) Bottom: Hexagon Tables (design Francesco Rota) photos Hussein Shaaban

There is a distinct style that ties much of the work together—how involved is the client in determining the finished result, or is your process mostly independent?

Maadi Loft Bedroom Shot (design Karim Mekhtigian, photo Sherif Tamim)

Some people consider design to be a glamorous industry, however we believe that there is bigger purpose behind it and it can play a larger role in different aspects of a country, whether social, economical or environmental. Over the years, we have seen some designers use their skills to improve living conditions or to support certain causes—design is not only about creating good looking interiors and comfortable chairs, it is about the process of thinking behind it.

Alchemy Cairo (the brand) How has the response been so far, locally and internationally?

We believe that our profession is about elevating the quality of life; therefore we do our best to make sure that clients are involved in their projects. We try to understand each client’s lifestyle, needs and requirements, as well as aesthetic preferences among other things, in order to avoid creating impersonal spaces that lack character.However, our clients come to us for our professional opinion therefore, through our designs, we provide them with our version of their own story. It is like making a movie, where you have a script, characters, location and a director - you use your own

Most of the time, the living areas are the most important parts of the house because as Egyptians, we have an innate desire to gather during events to share and communicate. Hacienda White House (design Mohamed Fares and Rania Loutfi, photos Hussein Shaaban)

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methods to mix all these different elements and tell the story with your own creative vision. Working under the same design studio, we decided a long time ago that we needed to create a distinct design identity. We wanted the work to be recognised in order to build the company’s name and reputation, which resulted into a certain familiar style that links our

Well, the feedback has been mainly positive. We think it is because as long as you have the intention to come up with true authentic stories and try to communicate them to people, and as a result, they tend to react with a welcoming attitude.

Soheimi Lounge Seat (design Karim Mekhtigian) photo Hussein Shaaban

How do the design concepts emerge? Is there a pool of influences that are dipped into regularly, or does each piece emerge as a unique or independent process? We all agreed early on that we wanted “Alchemy Cairo” to be an Egyptian furniture brand. By Egyptian, we don’t only mean “manufactured in Egypt” but also inspired from our “local culture”. For more than a decade, we have been designing individual pieces of furniture for our projects so when we decided to finally launch our first official collection we wanted to communicate the concept behind the brand through our designs. There is definitely a general design concept that reflects the story behind “Alchemy Cairo”, so when we started working with different designers it was to create different dialogues where each one is reflecting his individual vision of that common story.

Alchemy Designopolis (the showroom) Given that Designopolis is a consumer-oriented design destination in Cairo, what are the projected effects on the Cairo context—not just for consumers, but also for (potential) designers and design aficionados? It is an important station. It is a good platform that allows the brands to create a certain design-oriented community. K A L I M AT

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2007

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JANUARY

2008

2009

2010

APRIL

JANUARY

The Core- Furnex Exhibition (Cairo, Egypt)

Obelisk, PlanĂ¨te Meuble (Paris, France)

Timeless Stories, Salone Internzionale del Mobile (Milan, Italy)

Kyme, Salone Internzionale del Mobile (Milan, Italy)

Design Management Courses (Cairo, Egypt)

DECEMBER

FEBRUARY

JUNE

Karim Rashid and EFEC collaboration

Karim Rashid lecture on design (Cairo, Egypt)

The Home, Furnex Exhibition (Cairo, Egypt)

Kyme, Furnex Exhibition (Cairo, Egypt)

APRIL

DECEMBER

Egyptian Stand, Salone Internazionale del Mobile (Milan, Italy)

The 1st Design + Industry workshop (Cairo, Egypt)

+20 Egypt Design, 1st Cairo Design Week (Cairo, Egypt)

The 2nd Design + Industry workshop (Cairo, Egypt)

JUNE

The Platform, Furnex Exhibition (Cairo, Egypt)

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sublimely egyptian: azza fahmY

text by HEBA ELKAYAL

t is thanks to Azza Fahmy that we in Egypt can now claim to have a jewellery brand with an aesthetic that is sublimely Egyptian. What is so Egyptian, in the purest sense of the word about Azza Fahmy’s jewellery, is that it was a brand born from the very workshops of Egypt’s famed Khan il Khalili bazaar. It was there in the late 1960’s and early 70’s in the workshops located above the stalls and stores of famed jewellers of the bazaar that Fahmy learned her craft. She was the only woman at that time, learning directly from the men who taught her old techniques working with silver and gold, before setting up her own brand. Forty years later, the brand has expanded to become internationally recognised, selling jewellery that combines gold and silver with gems decorated and engraved with patterns, script, calligraphy or motifs that are inspired by Egyptian jewellery and culture. Yet, Fahmy’s designs are never staid or repeated. Her pieces always celebrate our past as much as they do highlight how once reworked with more contemporary ideas, can result in a new form of Egyptian jewellery and design. The brand is composed of several lines that Fahmy, along with her daughter Amina Ghali, co-design. Fahmy’s other daughter Fatma is CEO of the company. The lines include seasonal holiday lines for Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day but also a fashion line, culture line and exclusive collection line that offers more couture like statement pieces that incorporate precious gems including rubies, emeralds and diamonds. Each year, Azza Fahmy debuts a culture line that is inspired by one particular element or facet of Egyptian culture. One year it was traditional proverbs while another it was talismans. This year, it was a grand collection that took three years of production from research to design and production: the Pharoanic Collection. One of the greatest accomplishments of her design career thus far, it is a collection that draws upon imagery and motifs from the walls of tombs, from matters as simple as the reeds and water lilies of the Nile to grand breast plates the likes of which decorate the coffin of Tutankhamun. Grand multi-layered chokers incorporating blue lapis stones with silver, Horus wings strung from a necklace of scarabs, rings inspired by the pattern of woven baskets, and cuffs (the likes of which would have made Cleopatra proud to wear) offer clients a variety of visually and technically stunning pieces. The collection is both a design and commercial success: considering that luxury retail in Egypt has taken a dive since the onset of the revolution, the collection is being sold like hot cakes and women all over town are proudly flaunting their purchase. Fahmy has done Egypt a cultural service for producing pieces that pays homage to one of the greatest time periods in Egyptian history in a manner that is contemporary and easily wearable. Her other designs deserve to be as equally celebrated: no stone or aspect of Egyptian culture has been left untouched. Over the years Fahmy has explored even the most underappreciated elements of Egyptian life such as the beauty of Nubian architecture

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found around Aswan. Even something as complex as physical structures could be translated by Fahmy into jewellery: small model Nubian homes with the most precise details of palm trees and figures have been set on rings and the effect is beyond charming. Yet she has attributed her more recent modern designs to Amina who joined her mother after studying at Florence’s Alchimia School of Contemporary Jewellery. The duality of mother and daughter as designers has changed the course of the brand. Now, even the most classical themes have been infused with something fresh and contemporary to their designs. This move towards the exploration of using classic techniques of handmade silver and gold jewellery with modern designs has resulted in Azza Fahmy attracting the attention of other designers, notably Julien McDonald and duo Justin Thornton and Thea Bregazzi of the hip British brand PREEN. With McDonald and PREEN, collections in collaboration with the designers were made to compliment the designer’s clothes. With McDonald, Fahmy channelled Bedouin cuffs, a few long necklaces and some fantastic earrings were made to compliment McDonald’s famous knitwear that required something eye catching when set upon his chunky wools. Though Azza Fahmy was gaining grounds as a popular and appreciated jewellery brand by fashionistas, celebrities and even royals in the Arab region, it was a collaboration that placed the brand on the international design map. Following the Julien McDonald Autumn Winter 2007/2008 collaboration, Azza Fahmy and PREEN presented a stunning line of chokers, cuffs, necklaces, rings, and even a silver belt meant to compliment PREEN’s Spring/Summer 2010 collection. Fahmy worked with Thornton and Thea to produce pieces that would be harmonious with the silks, lace and designs of the collection. Working particularly with the lace, Fahmy created hand pierced silver chockers, the floral pattern somewhat Orientalist, and the silhouette of the chocker somewhat sci-fi and modern without the sense of it being costume like or even kitsch. The pieces are meant to born with the clothes, adding to the clothes. A high collared satin dress has a choker peek out, long black sleeves are adorned with the gold and silver tribalinspired cuff, and bracelets are big and with sharp cut angles. Suzy Menkes, Style Editor of the International Herald Tribune, had much to praise about the PREEN show during New York Fashion Week when PREEN and Azza Fahmy sent their designs down the runway. And how could anyone doubt the judgment of Menkes on such fashion matters? Fahmy is to be respected for many other efforts and work she does to preserve Egyptian culture and craft heritage. A collector of jewellery, Fahmy has taken it upon herself to record her collection and the extensive research she has done since her first days of training in Khan il Khalili. A book entitled Enchanted Jewellery of Egypt is an incredible tome of information on the history, craftsmanship and beauty of Egyptian jewellery from all corners of the country be it Bedouin or otherwise. As the brand evolves with each passing year, surprising clients and admirers with the originality and functionality of each new collection, Azza Fahmy has become more than just an Egyptian brand but one that serves globally as an example of how a small family business reliant on the familiar could become a brand about heritage and the present.

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Blown to Bits: The potential of the video game as genuinely powerful new art

Absurd and ridiculous error screens appear at random in the game (whose randomness is carefully calculated into the architecture of the game, which is meticulously designed to allow for multiple paths to be taken based on how the user reacts at certain points), and at one point, in a screen depicting a lowbit snow flurry, the user finds that their character has control of a single snowflake, which can only move aimlessly until the next, harrowing screen is reached. The aggressive capacity of almost every video game is altogether missing, and (strangely enough) the result is thoroughly unsettling. Often, the cues that allow a game player to move and almost instinctively know what to do next are there, but only in a false, misleading, and almost frustrating way. Only trial and error allows the character to move from one screen to the next, but there is never any real progress, only further, circular descent into a unique representation of that shared exile feeling that has characterised many recorded and unrecorded experiences of the artist’s generation. The feeling of displacement, misplacement, exile and forceful loss of self into a game-constructed fantasy is ever present. It is a difficult thing to characterise and this is where, for the most part, Weak succeeded.

by karim sultan

ost gallery art has the unfortunate distinction of being passive. Despite the numerous subtle things composition, colour, subject matter, material, and the individual technique and vision of an artist will do to us, it can be difficult for some to see the multitude of objects residing in art galleries, whatever the medium, unless our undivided attention, seemingly by chance, passes over them. Yet amongst other contemporary mediums (i.e. film or installation works), video games have not seen a high level of serious attention from the art world. Given their ubiquity and incredible market dominance as a consumer product, this lack of attention to a highly relevant form of cultural production is somewhat disastrous. Yet a few artists are exploring this medium for its dense emotional impact and ability to deal with the most personal of personal significances and political circumstances, all of which can be difficult to deal with or decipher in language or in traditional forms of art making. “Blown Up: Gaming and War” at the InterAccess gallery in Toronto, Canada, known for its unique contribution in the emerging world of electronic media art, featured work by three

artists—Harun Farocki, Wafaa Bilal, and Mohammed Mohsen—and the mediums shown instantly and, almost aggressively, seized attention. Harun Farocki and Wafaa Bilal are established artists. The former, hailing from the Czech Republic, is described as “one of the most important artists of contemporary film and documentary,” and the latter is an infamous Iraqi artist and New York-based academic who has gained attention and notoriety as a producer of engaging performative and interactive works. Yet it was Mohammed Mohsen, a Toronto-based Palestinian artist, whose enigmatic work stood out. Mohsen, whose work Weak debuted at this showing, drew the largest crowds, and with good reason. The installation itself, a monolithic reflective black cube-like structure in which a screen is housed, with a small similarly shaped stool on which to sit, had a single means of user interaction: a small, red joystick through which the viewer engaged with the game. Rather than, as Bilal’s work did, exploring the post-9/11 video game phenomenon of the “first-person shooter,” Mohsen’s work—programmed from the ground up by the artist—recalled the raw, nostalgic images of 1980s games. But something is different. Rather than jumping to the clear, colourful characters and levels that one may recall when we think of the video game classics, Weak begins with labyrinthine screen composed of a dark, dizzying palette with a number of distorted, unidentifiable

objects roaming the screen. The “character” one is able to control is not stable by any means, and often times is a fragment of something recognisable. As though falling deeper into some dream (nightmare) reconstruction of learning to play the early video games in youth, the impetus behind the game becomes clear. The delicately confusing youthful alliance of a burgeoning Arab awareness with the almost universal benignly militaristic American-ness of the 1980s and early 1990s comes together in nearly frightening ways on the screen—a digitised scene of murder by American troops is seemingly cushioned by Om Kulthoum’s bittersweet “Lessa Faker” (You Still Remember?).

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multidisciplined: Marwan shahin Marwan Shahin has yet to graduate from Alexandria University where he is currently completing his studies and he’s already on his way to becoming a pivotal figure within the arts community of Alexandria. The motivated and imaginative young man who was born and raised in the coastal city, works effortlessly everyday to hone his skill and cultivate his natural talent for designing vivid images that possess an interesting balance of funk and profundity. I recently hit up the well-spoken and opinionated Marwan to ask him a few questions. NB: What led you into graphic arts? MS: You know, I’ve been drawing my whole life, just sketching and doodling and stuff. When I got older, I got into (Adobe) Photoshop and started illustrating. I began posting my artwork on the internet and was contacted by DJ September 7th; he was looking for a graphic artist. He had seen a cover I designed and he really liked it. I showed him some more stuff and he eventually asked me to design all the artwork for his album.

NB: That certainly counts as being “pretty cool!” So, living in Alexandria must help you out a lot artistically, right? Does any of the culture, vivid scenery, elements of Alexandrian life inspire you at all? MS: We have great artists in Egypt, just no impact. We do everything really well. But again, there’s no impact…no shock behind it. That’s what leaves a mark and they’re too scared to show their stuff off in fear of this criticism. So, we’re not leaving our mark on the artworld.

I actually do way more than just graphic design. I paint, sketch illustrations, I even do graffiti. But, my strongest skill is graphic design. When I started experimenting with Photoshop at the age of 15, I thought it was limitless! You can go as far as you want with your creativity. With the typography and illustration, there is no end to what you can do.

NB: I noticed you have a ton of designs made for Americans! From designing that huge series of mixtape covers for the Nevadabased producer, DJ September 7th, to being the art director of a sports magazine in Arizona, you’ve practically done it all. But, it doesn’t really seem like you’ve done too much within the Arab region, am I correct?

NB: From what I gather, your’re all about “achieving uniqueness”, hence the title of your trippy yet poignant blog, AchieveUniquness. Tell us a bit about this unique project of yours…

NB: Cool! So who are your main influences? Are any of them Arab or even Egyptian? Do you have a favorite graphic designer?

MS: Actually, I’ve done a little bit in Egypt. The problem in Egypt is that yeah, people do like my style of artwork, but only to a certain extent. They like it but don’t fully appreciate it. They just want me to play it safe. They look at it for a few seconds and don’t bother to look any deeper to find the meaning; they don’t access it as if it is real art, and don’t appreciate the product or its creative aspect. Well, maybe it’s because I’ve worked in small agencies. You know, I’m still a student, so I can’t get a full-time job in the industry yet. Maybe If I did some work for a major agency they would actually see my work for what it is and look deeper into it to understand it.

NB: So what is it about their pieces that makes you wanna emulate their artistic style? MS: Well, Salvador Dali created such amazing pieces. I mean, he lived in his own mind. He made stuff that normal people can’t ever possibly THINK of more or less create; that’s what I love about him. Warhol, for example, he takes stuff that supposedly means nothing and turns it into art. Like the Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup painting; you might think it’s really “nothing”, but (I think) it’s amazing. The meaning he created for it is amazing. A guy like Shepard Fairey; all his work on propoganda influenced me tremendously. It deals with revolution, you know? NB: So what does the revolution mean to you? How have the events affected your artwork? MS: It’s mind blowing. Experiencing what we went through is crazy; the protests, those cold nights when we used to stay out protecting our homes. It definitely changed me as a person and inspired me as an artist. My best work was done during and after the revolution. NB: In your opinion, what was the coolest post-revolution piece you’ve created thus far?

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MS: There was “The Dictator” piece I did, which was featured in African Digital Art, but I think my favourite was “The 2Vth”. It’s a King Tutankhamen’s bust with a V for Vendetta “Anonymous” mask on the pharaoh’s face. I designed it then did a graffiti stencil of it in Loran, Alexandria. People have really responded to it! I think that’s my most popular image so far. It’s been photographed a lot and it was even featured on Al-Jazeera! (laughs) So yeah, I thought that was pretty cool!

MS: There’s’ a lot of things going on, you know? I think what inspires me a lot is those little bits of Egyptian culture you see here and there. Classical statues you see in Alexandria; you see this stuff and you go “Wow, I need to be making pieces like that!”. I really hope to even come close to what they made back then.

MS: Unfortunately, none of them are Egyptian or even Arab. My major influences are like, Shepard Fairey, Salvador Dali, Andy Warhol.

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NB: Why is that the response you’re getting from Egyptian employers? Why do you think these smaller scale mainstream Egyptian businesses you’ve worked with don’t appreciate your form of art? MS: Most employers only worry about the cheapest and fastest way of getting their point across. They aren’t concerned with the deeper aspect of our creativity and such. They want you to understand the image straight away. NB: So they don’t try to understand it, really? They just want simple, almost meaningless pieces to represent their brand? MS: Yeah, exactly. Every artist intends to place a certain meaning into any piece he creates. They (Egyptian employers) only wanted and cared about the simplest forms of art. The businesses want pretty and simple. That’s it. Nothing too different. You know, I don’t want anyone to look at my stuff and say “Hey, there’s no meaning to that.” Like, c’mon, think about it for a minute!

MS: It’s all about inspiration. People need it; I need it! Sometimes I’m just looking at images on the internet and I think, I need these…I need them all in one place! So I kind of wanted to create a blog for myself that would be very inspirational. NB: The blog has a really cool collection of quirky and unique images. So you just throw on all these images that inspire you in order to inspire other people? I was perusing through it and it really inspired me to write. NB: You were just saying that you don’t like the general manner in which art is perceived in Egypt by certain employers, at least for graphic arts. Do you think we’re doing poorly right now in Egypt when it comes to putting out material into the “graphic arts world”, so to speak?

MS: That’s the point! Whether you write or draw or make music, you always need a source of inspiration to push you to create. I wanted to just have an array, the most unique things that can be seen so that people look at it instantly and aspire to achieve uniqueness. It’s like I’m the curator of my own very unique art collection the internet! (laughs)

MS: You know, I’ve never heard of an artistic figure like Shepard Fairey come out of Egypt; someone who’s had so much of an impact. I’m trying to be the first (laughs). We have a lot of people creating art in Egypt, but their stuff doesn’t have any sort of massive global impact. You know, you see their stuff and you hear stories about them, but they don’t create their own vision.

NB: It’s sort of like “visual hashish”…

NB: But there’s some really great art being put out in Egypt! MS: Yeah, there is, but people are scared of criticism. Some artists want to be told that their stuff is “great” and nothing more. They’re scared of doing something different. Their fear of criticism is stopping them from putting stuff out. NB: So the reason we’re doing somewhat poorly, according to your opinion, is because the artists are scared of criticism?

MS: (laughs) People enjoy it! NB: Well, you’ve pretty much dabbled in all the realms of design, you’ve designed album covers, magazine covers, graffiti, you even started your own line of funky and cleverly-designed t-shirts (Sparx); where do you wanna go from here? MS: I wanna go as far as I can. Regarding the clothing line, it’s still in its early stages. I have to formulate a brand for myself and know exactly what I want the line to consist of. www.marwanshahin.com achieveuniqueness.tumblr.com twitter @mrmarwanshahin

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traditional

text and photos ALI SULEIMAN

To know the truth, To love the beautiful, To will the good.

radition encompasses a secret and unempirical force that communicates to an entire civilisation, influencing the arts and crafts. Manifested as limitless love, art is essentially founded on wisdom. In 1998, His Royal Highness Prince Gazzi Bin Mohammad ordered the establishment of the Institute of Traditional Islamic Art and Architecture (ITIAA) in Al Balqa University in Jordan as a response to the lack of such institutions in the Arab region. ITIAA aims to: • reform higher education and the cultural understanding of arts and crafts •encourage an appreciation of the universal values of the traditional arts •help students and young professionals to understand and rediscover their cultural heritage within today’s modern world •promote the idea that beauty of form manifested in the traditional arts is not only aesthetically pleasing, but is representative of a more profound universal order •reduce unemployment and create new opportunities for young graduates through vocational training and vocational courses to teach craft skills, which are no longer taught in the Arab and Muslim world. •encourage local market development and create non-governmental work opportunities •establish a permanent gallery within the institute where young artists can display and sell their works Islamic wisdom has had a direct effect on the Muslim mentality, leading Muslims to innovate great and exquisite creation in Islamic art. This was first manifested in Arabic calligraphy, then in the arts of illumination and foliation, geometry, and biomorphic ornamentations, and thereafter in all other artistic crafts, including wood-work and zillij - gypsum work dovetailed with coloured glass and brass. The institute offers the following academic degrees: 1. BA in Islamic Art, Interior Design, Projects Management 2. MA in Islamic Art, Interior Design, Islamic Architecture 3. PhDs are being developed and will be initiated within a year In addition, the institute constructs training courses in all its majoring areas for both professionals and non-professionals. The ITIAA is located in Amman, Jordan. It holds various seminars and conferences on Islamic art, and promotes active research in the field. www.itiaa.edu.jo * All photos presented are the work of the institute’s students. ** I would like to thank Randa Otaibi for her help in producing this piece.

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art & Design

we are young, we get by

text Saif Alnuweiri

HUSSEIN SHAABAN

SHIBSHIBI

Shibshibi Shibshibi is another venture led by Sara Hamza, Nadia Ahmed and Dina Naguib. Recreating the shibshib, as flip-flops are called in Egypt, the trio started working on creating new designs for the iconic footwear. The shibshib and similar footwear, has been worn by numerous societies that have inhabited the shores of the Nile for over 5,000 years. Several statues of various pharaohs can be found bearing the same footwear that Egyptians still wear to this day. “The shibshib is a product that is very involved in our culture and has been for as far as our grandparents can remember. Back then, there were only two colours or designs available called zanouba and khaduga,” said Hamza. The group released their first set of designs in January 2010 and their sandals were on the market six months later in June. Since then, their products have been sold in the Arab region and Europe. Hamza said she was very satisfied with the success of her and her friends’ works, “even though it’s a simple idea.” Despite the continuing turmoil in Egypt, Hamza and her colleagues plan to remain in Egypt, hoping that the political turbulence comes to a close in the 134

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Egypt, holding 40 self-expression sessions with over 1,100 people attending. In the spirit of the post-revolution Egypt, the former student said, “We aim to break social boundaries, allow for human understanding, decentralise cultural points, empower individuals and spread love.” However, El Quessny also said, “we do not want to envision a future, we keep it open and allow the people to determine what this project will be and where it will go. [It is] an experiment” of breaking with the norms society forces upon its youth.

The Amici Bar and Restaurant in Egypt succeeded in transforming an 80 square metre space into a popular Zamalek nightspot. Strikingly different from other nightspots, the bar’s heavy use of wood paneling combined with minimalist European design and warm lighting created an ambience rarely found in Cairo. Working with his brother, Makram has also started a new furniture brand, &Cairo. Planning on displaying an upcoming collection in the IMM Exposition in Cologne, Makram plans on staying in Egypt, “I am planning on expanding my little office.”

www.mashrou3almareekh.com

Both raised and educated in the United States, Shahana Helal and Noha Ghany are two Egyptian fashion designers who head (fobs), “an emerging brand paying homage” to Arab culture. Playing off the usually derogatory term “fresh off the boat,” the two Ohio State University graduates have infused Western styles and Arabic influences into their designs.

near future. www.facebook.com/people/Shibshibi-FlipFlops/100001071084279

Mashrou3 al Mareekh Mariam El Quessny, a graduate of the Pratt Institute in New York, started the forum Mashrou3 al Mareekh (The Mars Project) in 2009. Starting up the forum was simply an act of perseverance for her. Writing a short story late one night she realised, “I don’t want to just post this on Facebook and have people read it two hours, two days or two years from the time. I want people to hear it, feel it and react to it in real time.” From there she developed the idea of the forum, a place for people to express themselves with the hope that each visitor will reveal their “true self amongst others, in the hopes of igniting compassion which leads to the understanding of true equality amongst human beings.” At the Cellar Door Bistro in Cairo with a crowd of 40 people, Mashrou3 al Mareekh has its first of many sessions, in which the objective she set out with was satisfied. Since that first night, the forum has toured across

Rami Makram Renowned in Egypt for his work on a variety of projects, Rami Makram is an interior designer and founder of design studio D-Evo, established three years ago. Having originally pursued a degree in communications, Makram changed his mind while in college to follow his passion, interior design. “I didn’t want to limit myself into only one type of design so I tried working on different kinds of projects ranging from commercial to residential,” Makram said. After seven years in the field, Makram had a hard time choosing what he would consider to be his best work. “To be honest, I find it hard to choose a certain project and label it as my best work,” he said. “Every project is special in its own way. However, I believe that our standards evolve with time therefore, we always need to challenge ourselves and push our limits to come up with new concepts and new ideas.” Nevertheless, he said the Amici Bar and Restaurant and the Utchat Stool would be his favourite works. The stool was chosen for display in the Egyptian stand of the 2009 Salone Internazionale del Mobile.

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Growing up “glued to our TV’s and memorizing the films” of classic Egyptian cinema, the two wanted to revive the images of the women that were idolised by the Arab world in past decades. “We never considered ourselves fashion designers. It came unintentionally,” they explained, despite Shahana’s work for Tommy Hilfiger. Constantly nostalgic of their home, Egypt, the two embarked on a plan to design and make t-shirts reminiscent of their culture. “Our focus was to shout out to our very own culture,” they said. They also sought inspiration from the American culture they adapted to as they looked to the ways Americans paid homage to sports teams, universities and home states as a way of garnering attention to their work. “We wanted to connect both worlds as Arab Americans.” The duo’s current work has focused primarily on classic Egyptian cinema with famed actresses such as Soad Hosny and Hend Rostom flouting the fronts of their unconventional t-shirt designs. But they see “all things iconic of Middle Eastern culture” as a source of inspiration for their work and a way of promoting the creation of more designs.

photographer in Egypt frustrating. “I haven’t done what I wanted to do or what I’m capable of doing,” he said. Nevertheless, the job has been rewarding, mostly due to his perseverance. He picked up his first camera at 14, a Zenith that was a gift from his father to encourage him to follow a similar path as him in the visual arts. Having wanted to change his major to photography, Makram approached his father, a film director in Egypt. His father refused and encouraged him to enrol in film school in Cairo instead. He continued to pursue photography however, and took part in “non-stop photography, workshops, exhibitions and contests, I was exhibiting my photography in the Goethe Institute in Cairo,” he said. Then in 2003, the Cairo Times requested an interview with him and showcased his work. A few months later, “they called me again asking if I would like to shoot for them.” From there he started shooting portraits for the magazine and photographed author Dr. Edward El Kharat in his first shoot. In the following weeks he photographed the actor Amr Waked and Khaled Abol Naga. Inspired by the work of famed British portrait photographer Harry Borwww.facebook.com/pages/ fobs/144104065664690 den, Shaaban prefers shooting in black and white. “It has its own magical touch,” he said. Despite the opportunities, “working as a photographer in Egypt Despite his skilled work, is really hard,” he said. Photography is Hussein Shaaban finds working as a not treated as an art form and it is not

Hussein Shaaban

experimental enough, he complained. Anyone feels they can be a photographer, “You find anyone with a $500 camera calling it a professional camera just because he can mount the lens to the body. Then they shoot a photo with a shallow depth of field and feel they are now photographers,” he said, criticising the little skill that most so-called “photographers” actually have in Egypt. The difference between him and other photographers is that “they don’t read, browse websites, study or [try to] educate themselves…and then right away they prong a business card with the word ‘photographer,’” he said. It’s more than the camera that makes someone a photographer, he said. Even so, Hussein Shaaban’s passion for the misunderstood art of photography has allowed him to make a name for himself in Egypt. Nevertheless, his work has attracted the attention of many photo aficionados.

art & Design

welcome to the shankspot: design gangster, sketch master & creative wizard text ANGIE BALATA

is work is unique and easily identifiable from his signature quirky and rainbow colours. He is an illustrator, a fashion designer, a graffiti artist and a sketch master—there is almost no art challenge he is unwilling to take and, often, exceeds expectations. Officially, he is a graphic designer for the advertising giant, Leo Burnett—but, this is the least interesting detail about this eclectic enigma born Mohamed Fathy, also known as Shank. I’d first seen his work on his Behance Network page while in the midst of serious hunt for imaginative and original graffiti artists. After hours of internet stalking, I came across his signature image, realising then that I’d actually first seen his work under a bridge in one of Cairo’s affluent suburbs before ever connecting that unusual graffiti with the enigma of Shank. Too intimidated by the astoundingly creative level of work I saw on his page and fully expecting that any email of mine would be quickly discarded in the trash bin, I moved on. Never did I imagine that months later I would meet the very man whose bizarre imaginative side resulted in both the creation of a genius online design battle page, GanShank Redemption, with another Cairene design hero, Ganzeer and, simultaneously, my regretting not having been born with any artistic gene (I thoroughly blame my parents for not nursing the clearly nascent talent I exhibited when I decided to unleash my inner Picasso on their freshly painted walls instead of the proper Arab beating I received…but I digress). The Shank as you’d expect has a reputation: he is the prince of sketch with a Midas touch—an artist in every sense of the word. He is able to create commercial designs to make your head spin and his own personal art sets him in a league of his own. He moves fluidly between his different worlds and is able to go from drafting the “Win a Cherokee” campaign for the telecom giant MOBINIL which infused graffiti art to going out into the street and spraying images to promote his own brand of social awareness. As I was to discover after some proper virtual tracking, Shank is ranked among Egypt’s small elite circle of greats that include the likes of Aya Tarek Hassan and Adham Bakry. After being forewarned by close friends on how difficult it would be to find him, I prepared a rigorous plan to stalk him into submission. Unexpectedly, as I’m sure for him as well, he answered my call after only the fourth ring. Stuttering and completely thrown off by his down to earth kindness, I gave him my specialty sales pitch that went something along the lines of “I need an interview, you are extremely talented and I would love to showcase you in a foreign magazine, I know you are busy but if you give me an hour I promise to make it interesting and worst case scenario you get a free cup of coffee perhaps laugh a little

www.husseinshaaban.com

at my, sometimes, funny jokes.” And….he agreed! (I won’t lie, but it was a small victory that I celebrated with my signature “fat duck happy dance” in the hallways of my office). So we finally meet 24 hours later. As per my usual habit, I show up late—a common infraction that he jokingly berates me for having realised the ease by which I become flustered. The plan is for us to meet up, and then try to find a quiet place to talk. I show up at the pickup spot and there waiting is a young man who looked like he walked straight out of an H&M commercial—skinny jeans, Keds-like shoes, plaid sweater, and a pair of nerdy-cool black plastic glasses. He looked too fashionable to be part of the usual Cairene artsy crew and, for a moment, I contemplated backing out thinking this was going to be a yuppie interview with a wannabe artist—there was nothing “struggling” about him. But then he gets in the car and starts telling me about his day, and I’m completely captivated. In a matter of seconds, he bridged all boundaries and any possibility of awkwardness was gone. Completely at ease with himself and the world, he emanated comfortableness. In addition, he was hilarious-funny and swung between his artist side and mimicking typical old Egyptian aunties when he wanted to illustrate the ludicrousness of a situation. We finally agree on a café and the conversation flows easily about a plethora of things before I pick up my pen and feign serious journalist. When we start talking, he is excited and happy, but tired. He had just come back from selling some of his pieces at the wealthy design wonderland, Designopolis. He doesn’t say it, but he recognises he has come a long way from that provincial town boy who failed to get into art school. Before he became Shank, Mohamed Fathy, a native of the seaside town of Ismailia, worked in his father’s import/export business. He is a true child of this revolution in every sense. Like many young people, his dreams were stunted in large part due to a system that promoted mediocrity and killed individuality. As a director friend of mine perfectly explained: “Mubarak had created a society that reflected him, bland and without any source of life.” In this system, young kids with dreams like Fathy were certain to fail—they just did not fit the mass mould of the completely dull average. The regime refused to allow his sort of individuality to grow and prosper creatively. His first experience with the “system” was being denied entry to Cairo’s prestigious College of Fine Arts. Refusing to draw what was asked of him on the entry exams and, rather, drawing what he wanted, Fathy immediately failed the exams. But refusing to be shut out of the art world and realising that this was his passion, he looked for ways to get in and fell into fashion design completely by accident. It

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was not his original intention, but one that he found he loved. But as with many artists, the “industry”, which he hated, is what finally made him leave. In an effort to catch up with other artists his age, but likely a personal challenge he took on for himself, Fathy began to teach himself about the different forms of graphic art. As he quickly found out, the “system” was not the only obstacle for him. The transformation from Mohamed Fathy to “Shank”, however, was more than just about his overcoming the obstacles of a corrupt and rotting education system aimed at mass producing shit. As well, the tight knit and extremely cliquish circles that artists roamed in made it very hard for an outsider like him to easily enter. So, he bought books ranging from graphic design to graffiti and pushed himself to learn a little about everything. The game plan was to try different forms of graphic design and excel in each, thus expanding not only his skill sets, but, also his networks. And that he did. He worked his way up the graphic design ladder until he landed the job with Leo Burnett. This not only gave him the “official” experience he sought, but as well the connections that are so vital to success in Egyptian society. Beyond his corporate side, Shank has maintained his art, doing everything from graffiti to puppet making. The “other stuff” that he does is what, for me, is most interesting about him—it is where you find out about who Shank is. We talk a bit about graffiti and the conversation spins to the “This is not Graffiti” exhibition. As a graffiti artist, I ask him about his own views on the show and the pieces. He tells me that graffiti can’t be indoors and if it is done indoors, as Banksy and other big artists have done, then it must be at a level of art that is iconic. Banksy, he explains, is able to do these type of shows because he is an icon and when he does a show the graffiti he produces for the inside is different than what he does on the street. The problem with the exhibition is that none of the pieces were at a standard for a gallery exhibition. He says this not in any condescending way, quite the contrary he speaks highly about many of the artists who participated. But the discussion was on the idea of setting art to a standard that one would go and attend a gallery and feel that he/she has walked away changed, inspired, or, even, repulsed. For him, the artists participated at a point when they many not have been ready to exhibit “art”. Keizer, whom he likes, demonstrates excellence in technique, but, still lacks the kind of creativity to capture despite being one of the most prolific artists in the scene. For Shank, El Teneen, on the other hand, was not original and his piece seemed to fuse different figures and designs that lacked a clear insight. Sad Panda and Adham Bakry both swore at the gallery and exhibition, perhaps a bit too contradictory in light

of the fact that they also both participated. In this way, for him, the exhibition was not appealing. Shank believes that graffiti need not always have a message as it is first and foremost about the art. It can be displayed inside at a certain point when it is displayed as art and at the level of art. As an artist who has done graffiti himself, he has admitted to not being as prolific as he should. Shank pushes himself to different spheres. In May 2011, along with nine other artists from the around the Arab world, Shank participated in a workshop on Puppet-making for animation. The result was the unbelievable minute and a half animation video. As we come close to the end of our discussion, and almost as an afterthought, I ask him about being an artist during a time of revolution. He tells me that unlike many others the world of politics has not affected his life. He participates in the revolution as a citizen, but not an artist. So what’s next for the Shank? In the long term, he dreams of opening a design school to give kids opportunities that he did not have. Likely, the advertising world will not be one he wants to reside in for a long time and he hopes to be able to move into art as his full time preoccupation. He dreams of doing a gallery, but doesn’t feel like it’s time now. He believes that the society in Egypt is also not ready for it. As he explains, the right time would be when he feels that he can give back in a way that will help raise the standard of “art” in the city, but, also, when he can come out as an artist and have his pieces express and reflect who he is. The harsh experiences he endured not only gave him the drive to become one of Egypt’s most talented artists, but, more importantly, taught him a crucial lesson: everything is fluid and one must always be open to different ideas and experiences. As a fleeting final question, I ask him how he is able to reconcile the different, and often contradictory, worlds of art and design. With a degree of self-assurance that can only be a product of many years of obstacles, he tells me: “Art elevates design. Design is often boring and operates very much according to plan and formula—but art allows one the freedom to create, without plan, without formula.” Beyond his creative gift, it is this ease and certainty by which he both approaches and understands different worlds that allow for not many to know Mohamed Fathy personally, but for everyone to know Shank. www.behance.net/shankspot

Make sure to visit “New Media Extras” at www.kalimatmagazine.com/new-media-extras2 to watch a video accompanying this article.

art & CULTURE Design

the design ingredients of Mohamed Fares K

uala Lumpur Design Week (KLDW) is a massive event viewed worldwide and you were a featured designer. Give us some details on your presence there and the designs featured. It was my first participation in the Asian design scene. KLDW was such a great experience, and it was rewarding to attend this design festival where skilled and qualified creative people meet and interact. There, they were able to showcase the latest knowledge and expertise through a series of lectures by international designers and face-to-face exhibitions, all bringing international and regional designers together to share their experience. Kuala Lumpur took the initiative to be an upcoming creative city through adopting a universal idea in the region to stimulate, magnify and promote the country’s creative resources internationally. When in an international space such as KLDW, are you conscious of yourself as an Egyptian or Arab designer (with the responsibility or need to represent the country or region)? Or do you feel that national or regional affiliations are secondary to an event that is marketed as a meeting of creatives? Well, the organisers of the event were very keen on having guest speakers from various regions as well as featuring professionals with different design backgrounds. This was the main reason why I was approached to give a lecture to present my work and my company Alchemy Design Studio. Being the first Egyptian to be invited to KLDW since it started in 2009 was definitely a big responsibility. While I was trying to figure out what exactly I was going to present, I kept thinking that, due to the events of the past year, there was so much attention on Egypt that resulted in mixed reviews and opinions about the country. I wanted my presentation to initially explain the different layers in our culture, their effect on our thinking process, and how they could inspire professionals within the design or creative industries. Taking the form of small stories, my team and I decided that the focus would not be to display our projects but to tell the endless stories that built my personality and formed my design process. However, when you speak in front of an audience for 40 minutes, how do you fit an entire culture without being boring? So we knew that we needed to creatively grab their attention! We came up with an introductory movie, “a teaser” to highlight the different layers in our culture and how different elements like nature, food and emotions sometimes act as ingredients that affect our thinking process. What is unique to KLDW? KLDW is a platform that allows creative communities and industries to meet and the event cleverly grouped different disciplines ranging from architecture, interior, art, advertising, film, music, media, web design and publishing. This was the key to what makes it unique. The event emphasises encouraging young creative entrepreneurs and presenting them as the upcoming players in the creative scene while also giving them a chance to showcase their

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passion, energy and optimism. It showed how their talents can diffuse throughout the globe and how their minds can power the new economy. What stood out to you most about the featured designs at KLDW? There were so many great designs and inspirations; you could see the potential of their talent and skills in the Asian industry. I was particularly struck by their approach towards advertising and the creative industries around graphics, music and filming. Also, I was really surprised by their way of thinking to promote brands and production, which incorporated a glimpse of their culture. If I have to choose something, I would say that I was specifically surprised by their fascination with characters; it was the most striking thing for me. It was really impressive to see the imagination that is required to come up with these creative illustrations and how they were able to turn it into a complete industry. Did you have a chance to explore the design scene in Malaysia? Are there any parallels to design in Egypt (not necessarily aesthetically, but perhaps in approach, initiative, culture, etc.)? After the event, I was struck by the similarities not within the process but in the nature of our backgrounds. The rituals and traditions embedded in Asian and Arab cultures date so far back that it has become infused within our identities and lifestyle. I would say that Malaysia and Egypt both have very particular cultures, which might be difficult to understand if you are an outsider. I think that the layers within the two cultures give a new dimension to our thinking process; it gives it a certain depth that makes it more unique. Is design a wholly global phenomenon? Or do you feel that it is tied to geography, culture, politics, and so on? I would say yes and no. Let me explain, I think that design is design regardless of my national or regional affiliation. I personally see it as a set of rules that allow me to create different concepts, which vary in form according to my interpretation of these guidelines. Design and culture have always been somehow closely interrelated, however, sometimes design is flaunted as the true measure of culture rather than belonging to a part of a certain cultural context within our society. I think that design has become the embodiment of a larger process with a country’s creative culture; it is becoming a means to capture innovation, communicate ideas, and reflect a cultural identity. Lately, it has been more difficult to express culture through the medium of design due to other factors like time, technology and globalisation. Surprisingly, despite the general confusion and fusion of cultural identities there have been some recent attempts where new cultural strands are being revived and reappearing. While, some of these initiatives are intended

and strategically driven, others are indirect reactions to a desire of reclaiming a more long lasting cultural integrity. This recent type of “cultural fundamentalism” has been prompted by a reconsideration of roots of national design like in Europe, a number of countries have been leading this movement resulting in their recognisable design identities, as seen in the Dutch and Scandinavian industries. It is all about how you work with what you have, if we take Italians for example they emphasised on innovation and discovery, while Scandinavians capitalised on the “less is more” concept through minimal/sleek designs. However, you also have countries like Brazil, who are heavily stressing on the social or environmental aspect of design. It is taking a global concept and communicating it in a local dialogue, as a result making it GLOCAL. The opening text to your website reads: “The designers success lies in his ability to dig beneath the surface in order to draw out a secret subject to use.” Explain this further, and what do you usually find yourself looking to? Well this quote sums up my design philosophy. Let me explain: I really believe that each designer’s success depends on his ability to come up his own secret ingredients. These ingredients are the result of a constant research that starts long before he/she works on the design process of any project or product. They are not on the surface; I think they are on a deeper level, therefore, each designer has to search for them and dig within himself in order to identify them to create different stories. This process makes each designer’s work more unique, as it embeds his own signature within every project yet allows him to mark it with its personalised story.

art & Design

+20 egypt design

[un]ordinary

by saif alnuweiri

by nassra al buainain

CAIRO - CITY CENTER MAP Fairmont Hotel

SHUBRA

Don Quichotte Restaurant Sangria Restaurant

6 th of Oc tB rid ge

Cairo Tower

Opera House Museum of Modern Egyptian Art

Semiramis InterContinental

Tahrir Square

Shepheard Hotel

Adly st

Ab de l Khalek Tharwat st Kasr El Nil Square

Talaat Harb Square

il El N Kasr

DOWN TOWN

Café Riche

Koshary El Tahrir Restaurant

Kekhia Mosque

El Azhar

Bab al-Nasr

Khan El Khalili Market

Amir El Guyushi St. El Hussein Mosque

Al Azhar Mosque

Sabil Al Silihdar

Studio Misr Restaurant

Azhar Park

Ahmed Mah er S t.

Suhaymi

Hotel Le Riad

Aqmar Mosque

El M uiz st

ad Sa El

Manial Palace

Din st

Me gee d

ban st El Lab

Sala h El

st ny ra Ba

El Fustat Market and Ruins

Bab Zuwayla Mosque Ibn Tulun Mosque

EL MANIAL Cairo

Hanging Church

Gayer Anderson Museum

Bait El Shaer

Qalawun Complex

Textile Museum

Madrasah Mausoleum and Mosque

Gohar El Kaied St. Ashraf Barsbay School Sheikh Mutahhar Mosque

El Fustat Crafts Center

Salah El Din Citadel

airport

Spice Market

Magra El Eyoun

about 3,6 km

FURNEX

PLACES OF INTEREST EVENT AREA

FACILITIES DESIGN HOTSPOTS

CULTURAL PLACES

ENTERTAINMENT PLACES

Uthman Kathuda House

Sabil-Kuttab of Khusraw Pasha

El Azhar st

Ghuriya Complex

El Muiz St.

CITADEL

Grans Hyatt Cairo Hotel

Abd El

Amir Bashtak Palace

Hamam Inal

Po rt Sa id st

Ezz El Arab st

Four Seasons Hotel

Mohamed M. Khalil Museum

Sabil-Katkhuda

Hasan al Sha’rawi Kathuda Mosque

Salah Salem

GARDEN CITY

El Mo nsour st

Felucca Ride Spot

Taboula Restaurant

El Ain i

Nil Corn iche El

El Kababgi Restaurant Sofitel El Gezirah

An artist from the United Arab Emirates (UAE), Fatima obtained her Bachelor of Fine Arts from Zayed University in Abu Dhabi. But her artistic journey started long before university: she has been developing her talent since she was very young. Fatima’s art is a collection of diverse conversations that invites us to discover a new perspective of what is ordinary around us.

Al-Hakim Mosque

El Ghouri Complex

atima Al Mazrouei is the type of artist that can turn any subject before her into an art piece. The first thing you will notice when you meet her is that she adds her artistic touch in everything that surrounds her.

Wikalat Qaytbay

Rare Books Library

El Kasr

Cairo Sheraton

Dr. Ragab’s Papyrus Institute

Opera Square

Moha med M ahmu d st

EL Horreya Garden

t hrir s El Ta

st ish Ge El

Info Point

El Ba nhaw i st

to to t FURN he a EX irpo rt

Corniche El Nil

After Eight Restaurant Arabesk Restaurant

TAHRIR

laa st El Qa

Nile City Restaurants

Fatimid Northern Walls

Arabic Music Institute

Sala h Sa lem

Koshary Abu Tarek Restaurant

Egyptian Museum

Bridge 6th of Oct

Bab al-Futuh

El M uiz s t

Le Pasha Restaurants

ZAMALEK

6 th of Oc tB rid ge

Islamic Ceramics Museum

MAIN ENTRANCE

Por t Sa id s t

26 th of Ju ly

Ramses Hilton

EVENT AREA MAP

RAMSIS

Nile Maxim Restaurant s

Ra m sis

Marriot Hotel

Pyramisa Hotel

ge t Brid f Oc 6th o

World Trade Center

Resident Hotel

Faculty of Fine Arts

Tal aat Ha rb st

Abul seed Restaurant

Sawy Cultural wheel

Conrad Hotel

Mohamed Farid st

Golden Flamenco Hotel

Khan el-Khalili Market Naguib Mahfouz Café

Perfume Market

Wikalet al-Ghuri

CAIRO AIRPORT

CAIRO

n June 7, 2011, +20Egypt Design, an initiative marketing Egypt’s unique furniture and design industry, was concluded with much fanfare and enthusiasm. With over 3,000 individuals visiting the exposition over its three-day run, +20Egypt Design’s first event has been a success. Starting as a home grown effort by the Egyptian Furniture Export Council (EFEC) and the Industrial Modernization Centre and curated by renowned designer Paola Navone, +20Egypt Design showcased the works of several well-known foreign names such as Lucy Salamanca and Pierandrei Associati as well as local establishments such as Al Cazar Fine Woods and Asal. These local designers followed old traditions with a modern twist, as seen in such work as Dina Shoukry’s ironic looking shisha legs. Ahmed Helmy, Chairman of the EFEC, said, “It has created an amazing positive atmosphere where different cultures and experiences materialise into forms of architecture, design and visual

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communication. +20Egypt Design has brought a new way of communication in Egypt and from Egypt to the rest of the world.” Given the recent events and years of economic stagnation in Egypt, the event came at a crucial time; +20 Egypt Design provided an important outlet for the creative works of local artisans and manufactures. And given Egypt’s cultural and economic preponderance in the Arab region, the event’s planners believe the initiative will put Cairo and Egypt onto the international design map. www.20egyptdesign.com

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art & Design

THE TOWNHOUSE

t’s almost been a year since Hosni Mubarak was overthrown, a time where artists flocked to Tahrir Square and documented the uprising, creating strong pieces of work – a “revolutionary” art movement per say, corresponding to that of Egypt’s change. It is questionable what the future holds for the field of contemporary arts in Egypt, but one can only hope it will be positive. During Mubarak’s regime, artists had to masquerade the conceptualisation of their work and refrain from anything overtly political. Editor of Bidoun magazine, Negar Azmy, once asserted that the state would continuously play a role in what is decidedly shown at galleries, and politics “would remain intimately tied to the arts,” Townhouse Gallery particularly, due to its curatorial rather than commercial focus, is undeniably pulled into this. And it’s no secret that the state controls what is shown. Cultural development in Egypt was officially ruled by the Ministry of Culture, established in 1952 (following the rise of Gamal Abdel Nasser’s military takeover), the body decided on what would be funded due to its appropriateness and therefore exhibited. Despite this, there have been a handful of independent spaces that emerged, such as The Townhouse Gallery. Historically, contemporary art spaces tend to be located in more affluent parts of cities, with sleek white walls and shiny windows for collectors to gaze into, contemplating potential purchases. But nestled within an industrial neighbourhood of Cairo’s mechanic district lays the Townhouse Gallery, one of Egypt’s leading contemporary art spaces. A pioneer in the development of the art scene as well as partaking in many international events, the Townhouse Gallery plays an important function in the cultural development of not only Egypt, but also within the Arab region. Established in 1998, at a time where most galleries in Cairo where either “run” by governments or commercially orientated, William Wells, the director, saw the need for an independent space that worked with artists in a socio-political context. Fast forward four years later to 2002, the Townhouse Gallery increased its physical space, which includes a library, work studios (holding countless workshops and lectures, often for free or by donation) as well as a living space for their residency programme. Perhaps it is this lack of a traditional white wall gallery space that makes Townhouse so appealing to artists, curators, and the community within its surroundings. Townhouse gallery also initiated many large scale events such as PhotoCairo, Open Studio Project and Nitaq (albeit short lived), all of which were successful initiatives that worked in transforming Cairo into a cultural hub, working with the inclusion of the public rather than the art elite, giving great importance to the social conditions of the community. Perhaps this is what is to enthralling about the way the gallery operates – it draws in practitioners from all disciplines, from photography, to performance, theatre and of course, visual artists, creating a kind of accessibility that is rare in the art world. William Wells asserts that has the Townhouse works with three different fields: contemporary practices, development and education, and, as a gallery, they relate more towards artists that have a relationship with the society and culture they are surrounded by, whether its through honouring the diversity of their region or to critique and underline the difficulties faced.

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by REEM FEKRI

Furthermore, Wells agrees that Cairo itself has taken up a major artistic role within the MENASA sphere, because of cooperation between independent spaces – and Egypt’s role facilitates relationships between different countries, and “formalises them in a non-contractual way.” Even though, in previous years, projects have been affected by the governments control over what can and cannot be shown, the Townhouse Gallery has continuously strived to show that artists can still speak through aesthetic dialogue. Lectures, workshops, outside projects, residency programmes and much more continued to flourish and develop, despite being under such authority. Now with Mubarak gone, we can only hope for a freedom of expression that was previously so cautiously felt. As we all witnessed, in the news and within social media, one of the most spectacular details of the uprising was the production of visual art – at last, freedom of expression was tolerated. The Townhouse Gallery, going into its fourteenth year of operation, can now be devoid of any holds or restrictions placed on it. Even though the gallery, despite being situated in a “controlled” environment, has always acted relatively freely and for the public rather than for the market of elite collectors. One can only hope that they continue to show work that is engaging and that continues to critique the world that we live in. www.thetownhousegallery.com

D UL O W YOUR AD E N I F Y T H LOOK MIG HERE.

. D UL O W T I s e y . . . yes

Get in touch for our rates www.kalimatmagazine.com rawanhadid@kalimatmagazine.com

new media

wHAT SHOULD WE DO?

ISMA3OO no. 4

THE OFFICIAL PODCAST

Ah, yes, the most infamous question that many people hate to answer. Well, we’ve found a [pseudo] solution to your problem - let’s hope we covered your area! Want to post your event? Send us the details to info@kalimatmagazine.com. Just remember, we publish quarterly.

JANUARY

Chasing Mirrors: My Portrait, Shape by Shape

National Portrait Gallery, Saint Martin’s Place City of London London, United Kingdom Until January 8, 2012 www.npg.org.uk/index.php?id=8625

FEBRUARY

MARCH

The 3rd International Festival of Contemporary Art of Algiers

“Athletes and Science” exhibition at Souq Waqif

Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art in Algiers (MAMA) Until February 3, 2012 www.universes-in-universe.org/eng/ nafas/articles/2011/fiac_algiers

A TRIBUTE TO ADONiS LITERARY EVENTS

The Mosaic Rooms, Tower House, 226 Cromwell Road London, United Kingdom February 3-February 8, 2012 www.mosaicrooms.org www.wegottickets.com/event/148193

Souq Waqif Doha Qatar Until March 10, 2012 www.qma.org.qa

Zaha Hadid: Form in Motion

Philadelphia Art Museum Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA Until March 25, 2012 www.philamuseum.org/exhibitions/750.html

AHDAF SOUEIF CAIRO: MY CITY, OUR REVOLUTION

The Mosaic Rooms, Tower House, 226 Cromwell Road London, United Kingdom January 20, 2012, 7pm www.mosaicrooms.org

ARAB WINTER EXHIBITION

Fresh Paint Gallery 180 St Catherine East Montreal, Québec, Canada Until January 30, 2012 www.arabwinter.tumblr.com

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Little me Little you International Children’s Festival Beirut. Lebanon March 20 - April 20, 2012 www.kadmusarts.com

The New York Arabic Orchestra Winter Concert & Fundraiser

Florence Gould Hall French InstituteAlliance Francaise New York City, New York, USA February 16, 2012 www.newyorkarabicorchestra.org

March Meeting 2012 Working with Artists & Audiences on Commissions & Residencies Sharjah Art Museum Sharjah, United Arab Emirates March 17-19, 2012 www.sharjahart.org

This time we made sure you can get to our podcast in as many ways as possible, through iTunes (finally!), SoundCloud (www.soundcloud.com/kalimat), or from our own site at www.kalimatmagazine.com/isma3oo. In this edition, we features a talk by Creative Director and Editor Danah Abdulla given at the “Artistic Arabs in America” event in Washington DC on issues with education and cultural production (particularly in the Arab region); an exploration and commentary of issues of nostalgia, technology, and what was lost and gained in recent developments with Arab music; a song by an artist featured in this issue (Rash Radio), and a sneak preview of an upcoming project by Kalimat (which promises to be a lot of fun): Remixaat. As before, if you have any content of your own to submit for future editions of Isma3oo (new music, interviews with interesting people, good ideas that need to be shared), reach out to karimsultan@kalimatmagazine.com. Karim Sultan

Make sure to visit “New Media Extras” at www.kalimatmagazine.com/isma3oo-no-4-winter-2012 to download this podcast.

new media

Ashyaa2/things Alexandra card by Rami Kashou

Art of the Middle East: Modern and Contemporary Art of the Arab World and Iran

Beautiful runway couture on a limited edition birthday card embellished with metallic fabric, gems and delicate black feathers, designed by Rami Kashou. Each card comes in a custom design drawer. www.papyrusonline.com

A great resource for anyone interested in art from the Arab world and Iran. “Art of the Middle East“ is an accessible overview of modern and contemporary art of the Arab world and Iran from 1945 to the present. Divided into literature, portraiture and the body, and politics, conflict and war, it also provides an engaging commentary on each artwork and the artist. www.amazon.com

Egyptian Laptop Case

Freedom and Life Poster Latin type on posters is in abundance, we recommend decorating your wall with Celine’s Freedom and Life posters. www.celinek.blogspot.com celinekh@yahoo.com

More than anything, we’re featuring this Egyptian laptop case not because this issue is dedicated to Egyptian design, no, because we love its kitschiness. Perfect for your extremely proud Egyptian friend, or one who have recently found themselves (post-Revolution) admitting to being Egyptian. What’s more is this product is made by El Horreya, an ongoing dynamic design project created to support humanitarian organisations in need across the Arab region. Each piece is carefully hand-crafted in Egypt. www.store.arteeast.org

Probe AP Wall Light by Studio Italia - design Karim Rashid

Memorable Memo Board Made with four different cotton fabrics and a simple wooden frame, this board can display just about anything (to dos, photos, etc), in a stylish manner. www.keswah.com

Fashionista on the Freej tshirt

You didn’t think we’d dedicate an entire issue to Egyptian design and not refer to Karim Rashid did you? This wall light can be mounted and adjusted for direct lighting. It comes in an assortment of colours. www.moderndesignoutlet.com

“So what if I wear my heels to the desert?” Arabulous, a Bahraini tshirt company, aims is to conserve and popularise Arabian culture in the Arabian Gulf by merging media and fashion, East and West to create quirky and funny graphics. arabulous@gmail.com www.arabulous.blogspot.com

Nazareth and Upper Galilee A tribute to her hometown of Nazareth, Baltimore-based Architect Elaine Asal started photographing the area for the benefit of family and friends. The result is a stunning photography book perfect for your coffee table. www.blurb.com/books/1166760

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Off the Wall: Political Posters of the Lebanese Civil War Graphic design at its finest - propaganda posters. Zeina Maasri’s Off the Wall visually illustrates, through posters, the Lebanese Civil [Poster] war. www.amazon.com

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