Nov 30 2011
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Fiction, Serious-ish, Two minute read

The Rumor Mill

a captivating picture for a captivating topic

Here in revolutionary Egypt, rumors pile up faster than cigarette butts in a student bar district on a Friday night. For the most part, I’ve found it safe to assume that no one really knows or understands what’s going on in the political process. Those who claim they get it are either idiots, lying idiots, or just liars. Some people do know more than others, but they are few and far between.

This uncertainty leads to one of CASA students favorite daily activities: blind speculation fueled by sleep deprivation, emotion, breakfast foods, and twitter feeds. The results of this speculation can be quite surprising and often completely wrong, but this is nothing compared to the gems that fly around Cairo as a whole. Here’s an (exaggerated) sample of what happens.

The Rumor Mill

Fact: a small group of protesters has gathered in Tahrir and is calling for the end of military trials for civilians. There is a heavy police presence, but no violence. Some participants and bystanders are eating sandwiches. Meanwhile, a woman was going to get some groceries when she tripped on a curb. No one was injured.

(the actual occurrences proceed through the rumor mill)

I heard on twitter that the Egyptian government hired a squad of armed spaghetti aliens that entered Tahrir square  making a horrible “WOOP WOOP WOOP WOOP” sound and drenching the men, women, and children there with low-grade spaghetti sauce. They’re trying to drown the revolution in bland tomato goop!

Someone else said that the aliens were Israeli and were sprinkling the victims with tiny parmesan stars of David—-the hand of Israel AGAIN!

Yeah! And my friend told me that her sister’s boyfriend’s friend’s cousin’s facebook status said that all foreigners in the square have somehow remained clean of spaghetti sauce, so they’re definitely part of the conspiracy. The universe is attacking the Egyptian people!

But I heard that the protesters were fighting back with stolen chopstick launchers they stole from the police force and that they had also commandeered a militarized Zamboni from the army and were running over valiant army officers, who they claim to be mercenary spaghetti aliens. The protesters are THUGS!

And state radio said that the concert going on in Tahrir square might cause an excess amount of noise for the next few days and that it might sound like “WOOP WOOP WOOP WOOP.” It also said that the Egyptian government would never do anything to hurt its people. I think we should believe them!

But my friend saw a soggy scrap of paper on the ground that said there were a bunch of Salafis in the square wooping it up and calling for the imposition of Sharia law under the absolute jurisdiction of an infant that would be chosen by the most righteous man in the country as determined by a reality television show. I’m going to protest against them!

Don’t be ridiculous! It was the Muslim Brotherhood putting on their annual dodgeball tournament in order to raise money to buy all of the ground water in Egypt so that they can blackmail the government into giving it supreme power. I’m going to protest against THEM!

I thought I heard someone say they read an email that mentioned the possibility of class being cancelled, so we should probably stay up all night and not do homework. Woot Woot! No class!

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Nov 28 2011
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Anecdotes, Fiction, Two minute read

An Automated Response to the Rainfall

visual evidence of what may have been the end

Alert. Alert.

This is an automated message addressing the near-apocalypse that occurred last night in Cairo, Egypt from approximately 17:30 to 20:30 pm.

What could have been the end of the world took the form of a heavy rain descending upon Egypt’s capital. The moisture falling from the sky proceeded to form large lakes and puddles on every uncovered surface in the greater metropolitan area due to a complete lack of street drains. Thankfully, the inconveniently tall sidewalks were still of no use since they are pocked with various pits and sudden changes in height and existence.

As the night progressed, the (temporary) bodies of water became foamy, a result of both the physical movement of cars and the multiple chemical reactions going on between the various air and ground pollutants that include but are not limited to: soap, animal feces, garbage, and car exhaust. This foam can and will be used by the Egyptian government as a new form of riot control.

Though the streets have suffered considerable damage from the acidic mixture eating away at the concrete and asphalt, their physical appearance is almost indistinguishable from what it was before the quasi-Armageddon and the new potholes will likely go unnoticed.

Mild panic reigned over much of the populace during the moisture-time, resulting from an inability to identify the bizarre tapping sound that pervaded Cairo’s various boroughs. Once the sound and the substance causing it were identified, the panic was replaced with a sense of bewilderment, wonder, and hunger as entire families gathered round to watch the sky water drip down the sides of buildings and make the streets unusable.

Though Cairo’s streets were predicted to bloom today as the result of this rare rain, it appears the only thing blooming this year is Egypt’s democracy, and even that has a chance of getting stuck in the chemical muck left behind on both major and minor thoroughfares.

In response to the widespread fear that such a scathing indictment of the quality of the roads and sidewalks will cause the government to respond, an official has reassured the populace that, as in the past, nothing will be done to change the infrastructure’s current condition and that there is no cause to worry.

Happy Election Day. Please do not respond to this message.

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Nov 27 2011
5 Comments
Fiction, Two minute read

Will It Stick: Thanksgiving Edition

As I sat at my friend’s apartment deeply pondering the political turmoil in Egypt and my miraculous completion of a homework assignment, I found myself struggling to come up with a blog post idea. Despite the fact that we are living in unusual times and Christmas is coming, I pulled blank after blank. Finally I began considering what kind of foods, after being thrown, would stick to a wall. As I delved further into this topic, I realized what an intellectual treat it would be  to analyze the traditional foods of Thanksgiving through this lens of viscosity and velocity.

Allow me to present the results of my brief investigation:

For purposes of simplicity, I have divided the foods into the categories of stickers, non-stickers, conditional stickers, and sliders. A sticker being, of course, something that would remain on the wall for a period of no less than 10 minutes after being thrown. Conditional stickers are things that would stick depending on the circumstances, and sliders are things that would ooze down the wall slowly before puddling into goo at its base. I’ve commented on the particular nature of some dishes, while leaving the rest to personal interpretation.

Stickers:

Mashed Potatoes (those with a fairly firm consistency)

Sweet Potato Casserole

Jello Salad: this fine traditional midwestern dish that provides a preview of dessert at the dinner table would most certainly grace a wall for a few minutes after being flung upon it

Pumpkin pie: a little too gooey sometimes for my taste, this viscous dessert would most certainly join its mashed brethren in decorating the wall.

Non-Stickers:

Rolls

Turkey legs

Leafy green salad: though one or two leaves that are particularly soaked with dressing might stick, odds are most of it would just bounce right off. You  shouldn’t have too much dressing on the salad anyways. If it sticks, you might want to consider laying off the blue cheese dressing

Apple Crostata with Cinammon-Almond Topping: not only will this not stick, but you’ve probably annoyed most people at the potluck by insisting that your crostata is not an apple pie.

Conditional Stickers:

Slices of turkey, depending on size and whether or not someone ruined the turkey by over cooking it

Stuffing/dressing, depending on if it’s inedibly dry, disgustingly mushy, or toothsomely perfect

Pecan Pie, depending on the velocity with which it was thrown

Sliders:

Gravy

Green Bean Casserole: no doubt some of this would remain plastered to the wall, but a good amount would probably slither all the way down

Cranberry Sauce

There is certainly more to be said, but I will leave some fun for Christmas, where many of the same dishes will once again be over-eaten and then lobbed against the walls.

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Nov 25 2011
2 Comments
Humorous, Open Letters, Two minute read

A Very Ex-Pat Thanksgiving

What have you DONE?!

Dear attendees of last night’s Thanksgiving celebration,

You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Never have I seen such a despicable sight on this green earth. Normal Arabic students and friends were transformed into beasts of insatiable greed in front of my very eyes. The mutilated carcasses of the helpless birds alone speak for the gluttony that transpired last night, not to mention the photographic evidence of post-poultry dance moves that were ill-advised if not downright dangerous.

First of all, have you any idea of the ridiculous amounts of food that each and every one of you consumed? Not only that, but many of you had the audacity to complain about being too full even while shoveling more chunks of pecan pie down your gullets. Shame on you. Do you think I felt anything even close to pity when I saw you later on the couch with your tongue lolling out of your mouth and your eyes glazed over? Of course not.

Second of all, for all of those who cooked or baked or sautéed or peeled or mashed or otherwise did anything to help prepare the feast that was later set upon by the guests as a plague of locusts to the harvest, what business did you have in creating anything so delicious? Don’t you know that the human heart is weak, and that by making mouthwatering, delectable dishes, you were setting a trap for the already revolution-enfeebled souls present at the party? Had there only been sleeves of saltine crackers and unfiltered water, I have no doubt we would have witnessed similar hedonism, since these Thanksgiving-ers had all the self-control of a starving herd of goats.

And do I even need to mention the general spirit of gratitude that pervaded the atmosphere with a ripe odor not unlike rotting fruit? The sickly sweetness of good feelings and camaraderie were downright inappropriate, especially since many of us there were hoping to continue focusing on the negative aspects of the political, economic, and social situations in America, Europe, the Middle East as a whole. People kept saying they were thankful for things even when it was abundantly clear that there is no hope and everything is going to hell in a hand basket.

Last but certainly not least, I would just like to say that the generosity of the hostesses was completely inappropriate. Had I seen a herd of Arabophiles like these heading for my doorstep, I would have bolted the doors and called the cops as well as reported them to Homeland Security before lighting the fire under my cauldron of oil and getting ready to heave ho. The willingness with which you opened up your home and allowed it to be destroyed in a craze of excess clearly points to some kind of mental illness, for which I hope you will be treated very soon.

I hope to never see anything so disturbing again, and I’m thankful for the fact that Thanksgiving is only once a year.

Your disgusted colleague,

Emily

P.S. But really the party was great. The food and the company were both a sheer pleasure to enjoy.

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Nov 23 2011
4 Comments
Anecdotes, Stories, Three minute read

On Your Mark. Get Set. Fear!

Milk: Gotta Have It for Coffee

Cairo, Egypt.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011: A million man protest is scheduled for 4 o’clock pm. During our classes and breaks we watch tv and discuss what is going on or eavesdrop to other’s conversations. Life, for the most part, continues as normal. At 1 pm, the director of our program knocks on the classroom door. This is unusual.

She pokes her head in and calmly states that there is a city-wide curfew beginning at 3 pm, that classes were ending early, and that everyone should go home after stopping by the grocery store and stocking up on ramen noodles.

Did I freak out? No. Did I leave more quickly than usual, make an urgent phone call to my roommate, and then speed walk to find a taxi after not taking time to say goodbye to my fellow students? Yes.

All I could think about was getting to the grocery store. I was almost out of coffee. And milk, we needed milk. I could probably buy a few cartons of milk, and then ration them if I needed to. Yes. I need milk. How could I drink coffee without milk? What if there’s no milk? I have to get milk.

This sick internal dialogue was accompanied by terrifying images of ravaged supermarkets, bare shelves poking out everywhere and not a drop of milk to be had for the roaming groups of latecomers who pick over the off brand mayonnaises and weird canned meats others have left behind. I simply knew we would get to the store and find there was no milk left, the shelves on which it was usually stocked completely empty, only the dust revealing that anything had ever been there. And then what would I do? In order to calm myself down, I made a contingency plan: “ I might have to drink coffee without milk and that’s fine.” But it didn’t feel fine. It felt awful.

We took a taxi home and didn’t even stop by our apartment before heading to the corner store to get the necessities. Unlike the wasted aisles in my day-terror, the store seemed quite normal. I didn’t have to elbow any portly twelve year olds to get the last roll of Choco-Biscuits, and there were no flocks of mothers screaming at each other and their children while fighting over the last bag of rice. I bought two cartons of milk  (the long-lasting kind), and refrained from buying another. I was just so relieved it was there. I began to suspect the other people didn’t know about the curfew. They weren’t going to have any milk later on if they didn’t get smart. They also might be arrested for violating curfew.

We, on the other hand, went home and unpacked our groceries and prepared for a movie marathon complete with coffee and choco-biscuits. Curious, I checked the news to see what it said about the curfew. Interestingly enough, it said nothing.

I poked around a little more, searching in English and Arabic Western and Egyptian news sources, and found zilch. And then I went to the Twitter and searched “curfew.” Bingo. I discovered a slew of tweets deriding the curfew and alternatively begging others not to spread ridiculous rumors or mocking them for doing so.

Thus we found the curfew was, in fact, not real. I was glad I’d resisted buying 3 cartons of milk because then I would have really felt foolish. The lesson? Be careful about spreading rumors, including this one.

P.S. I am not one of the American students that was arrested. I’m not writing this from jail. They were all dudes anyways.

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