No Dark Sarcasm in the Classroom

It never ceases to amaze me how easily music travels. Here, in the middle of Sinai, Egypt, Muhammad and I cruise to Dahab in his  ’95 blue jeep Cherokee whom I lovingly call “Z” (note this is because I cannot pronounce her real name but I know it begins with a Z and ends with an A). 

“I love Pink Floyd,” he yells over the wind and the music and sings without hesitation, “All in all you’re just a brick in the wall.” He knows each word by heart.

We had an hour drive through the valleys of Park Nabq ahead of us and I took the opportunity to pick his brain about all of the things that my newly found knowledge of ancient Egypt had left wanting. For instance… what happened AFTER Ramses II? What had my own tour guided classrooms along the Nile left out?

Muhammad started with King Farouk, the one who ruled Egypt as the British had stuck their hands in its bountiful candy jar. WWII had arrived in Africa then, but Farouk was more or less still popular. The British however, were not. According to Muhammad, the Egyptian people, and their endless threats and hatred toward the Brits were ultimately what sent the occupation running.

After Farouk, came Nasser. Under him, Egypt lost the Sinai Peninsula to Israel which was devastating to the people.

“Why did Israel want Sanai in the first place?” I asked.

“Because Moses walked the deserts there for 40 years,” he responded as if that were a natural and obvious reason to wage war. 

We flew over a sand dune, and Muhammad’s face which had gone slack at the thought of Israel once again beamed with excitement of a five-year-old driving a toy car.

Nasser took full responsibility for the loss and announced his resignation. Egypt, however, accepted his apology and urged him to stay to lead them to victory and regain the sacred Sinai. But, he was assassinated via poisoned dinner before he could do so.

After Nasser came Sadat who was somewhat more successful than his unfortunate predecessor. Sadat threw himself and his resources into reclaiming Sinai. But by this time Israel had built up a powerful defense, a massive damn on the Gulf of Suez blocked Egyptian access to Sinai. One day, after many days of racking his brain with how to bring down Israel’s defense, Sadat stood on the West Coast of the Suez looking out at the lost Sinai as he often did. When nature called he did not hesitate to pee in the sand cursing Israel as his stream slowly washed the nearby sand away. And in the purest of light bulb moments he had solved all of Egypt’s problems. He rushed to the university and the government and gathered a team of expert engineers. “We will wash the sand away!” he exclaimed. Sure enough, Egypt was able to strategically pour water over the sandy damn, and break Israel’s main defense.

And so, on June 5, 1967 the infamous Six-Day War began. Egypt sent 7,000 men over the Suez and lost 3,800. But in 24 minutes the troops had successfully cleared the way for 200,000 more Egyptian soldiers who were able to cross the Suez quickly overwhelming baffled Israeli's,  taking back what they had lost. Sinai was Egyptian territory once more.

“If you ask anyone today, the people will tell you, “We love Sadat, we love him the most of any ruler”” Muhammad says with a trace of sadness in his voice.

Sadat was killed by Mubarak, or so, many Egyptians think. It was never actually proved. Today two leaders of the Muslim Brotherhood are blamed for the crime and have sat rotting in jail since Mubarak took power after Sadat’s death. So,  for 35 years, Mubarak ruled with his oppressive regime, squandering money left and right from his country and his people.

Until, of course, on January 28^th, 2011, the people rebelled in Tiran Square. 840 people died for the cause but soon after, Mubarak resigned. Today nearly five months later, Egypt still faces huge obstacles and they don’t end in the capital where unrest is publicized most.

Here in Sharm-el-Sheikh, the heart of the Sinai Peninsula, Mubarak resides, lying in a hospital bed, killing the livelihoods of local Egyptians just by his presence.

“I don’t understand Muhammad, if he’s hauled up in a hospital, what harm can he do?” I ask.

“Habibi, while he’s here, the people will not come.”

Tourism is the blood of Egypt’s economy, more than 30 percent. And it is true, that it has taken the hardest hit from the revolution, but in Sharm, a place which relies far more than 30 percent on tourism, foreigners refuse to set foot while Mubarak is anywhere near.

Muhammad is the leader of the revolution here in Sharm. He seems to be friends with everyone and thus capable of rallying each clan of Bedouin Sheiks’ and all major heads of resort tourism. Under his guidance, a silent protest, 2,000 strong,  will ensue tomorrow outside of the hospital where Mubarak resides.

We are in Dahab now. The story of Egypt’s rocky recent history has outlasted Z, and we now sit on a dock watching the sunset over the Red Sea. Taking another sip of Bedouin tea, Muhammad’s eyes begin to water. “It’s not fair.  We worked so hard to free our country, and now our home is under the same oppression. He has to leave.”

This sea-side classroom is as real as the blue water that envelopes my dangling feet, and there’s not a speck of sarcasm in his voice as he continues to speak of the ongoing revolution.  Sharm-el-Sheikh, the place I had thought was, “The City of Peace”, is under just as much torment as the rest of Egypt. Only here, the people are not pinned against each other in a baseless religious battle. Here, they are still rooted against one man, who’s sickly presence grows like a cancer on the city.