Times

I heard the blasts in Dahab, in fact I even felt the largest one, and refused to immediately acknowledge them for what they were. Even when we heard the sirens a few minutes later. No, not here, not now, not when I wouldn't know where to run to be safe, not when I have friends wandering around the town, not when the death and the blood and the shock would be here, now, and not on a TV screen. Not when I am not ready to be anything but a coward. Bombs go off evey day.

We dealt with Dahab, with the priority that was given to foreigners to exit the town, with a government which was more concerned with the peace of mind of foreign tourists than the safety of its citizens. With the next wave of attacks in Egypt, with the lack of clear information about exactly what happened and where, with the ridiculous blame being placed on the same group of bedouins, with the reality that the truth will likely never be unearthed. Ras shaytan, Taba, Sharm el-Sheikh, how many fucking resorts do you need to see blown up on national hoidays before you start giving a shit. Where is the money which is being funneled into the security apparatus going? Where is it going when you cannot protect your cities, your people, when you can't run a simple or effective check at a checkpoint?

And then my friend. In jail. Or maybe at still at the police station. No one seems to know. Arrested in the early hours of that same day as the Dahab attacks for demanding independence of the judiciary. For demanding what is a fundamental base for a functioning state. They raided the vigil, beat up a judge amongst other people, and arrested a group of 15. Twenty something years into a state of emergency and you can't yet counter the instability which you have identified as the reason for the lifting of all normal rules of government. Bombs are being planted in the sinai and you are busy beating up judges in the capital. Cells are being formed and you are busy torturing people for countries which pay you to do their dirty work. Kos ommokom.

And I am afraid for him. I'll admit it. I am pissed off, angry about a lot of things which caused his arrest; but I am also afraid for him.

And then I return to cairo. I go to class and there are some security people around. Four hours later there are around 10,000. They are still beating up protestors. Sometimes they do it themselves, sometimes they inject civilians whom they have paid what might buy them a pack of American cigarettes to become state-sponsored criminals, to beat and provoke and aggravate. I am trying to find out simple facts: where exactly were the second round of attacks located? Where exactly are the arrested protestors being held? And all I get is contradictory information. One of the few consisitent pieces of information I run into is a statement by the president to the press, explaining his respect for the judiciary and the ultimate sanctity of its independence, and asserting that the problem is an internal one amongst the judges themselves. Nothing to do with his executive wing and the influence it exerts through the ministry of interior, which has created a prosecutor's office which dances to the beat set by state security offices.

In my on-line hunt for information, I watch the video of that first round of arrests. I watch it again as I write this. It looks like early morning. People are screaming as they drag them away. My chest hurts as I try to spot my friend. They take them. Just like that. Then they tear down the enormous Egyptian flag in front of which the protestors had been standing. Don't touch that. It is not yours. You have never understood, will never understand, what a nation means. You only know your own world, of orders, of favors, of the weak clinging to power that is not theirs. You are disgusting and filthy and you should not touch that. It is a symbol. It's a symbol for something which has, so far, only been realized in the minds of people. And they know that. But they want it. They hope for it. Some work for it - in, around, and outside your tyranny. Leave it be. It is not yours.