The Yacoubian Building (Book Review)

The Yacoubian Building is a rich and multi-layered examination of the intersections of sex, race, class, and state violence in modern Egypt. The building's complex and morally ambiguous tenants rise, fall and scrabble to their feet again from various circumstances. On the one hand, this novel is a brilliantly executed tapestry of interconnected stories--Taha's lost love Busayna gets used by another character, Malak to trick a third character Zaki el-Dessouki, into giving up his lavish apartment. One common thread through the characters and their stories is, the cynicism with which people, particularly men, use others, to achieve happiness. On the other hand, The Yacoubian Building is a revealed archive of Egypt's layered pasts--the linguistic and cultural legacies of French and British colonialism, the contested figure of Gamal Abdel Nasser as hero or heretic, the multiple registers of Arabic language, and the rising influence of Islamist organizations on Egyptian society. Aswany, as a secular intellectual, is obviously quite skeptical of how far the newfound piety in Egypt really penetrates, but his faith is nevertheless strong in the "everyday goodness" of Egyptians. It is this flexibility that allows people like the closeted gay newspaper editor Hatim to flout certain social conventions within well-defined limits. The elasticity of this commonsense piety is what Aswany seems to admire, in contrast to the more austere piety of the Islamists. Nevertheless Aswany refuses to caricature Islamists. On the contrary, he gives the reader a very moving and convincing portrait of how a young Egyptian becomes radicalized, and the instrumental role of state violence in that process. This fictional portrayal shows, far better than most policy reports I have read, the step-by-step process by which the lower-class Taha is denied access to the traditional routes to respectability and begins to be pulled into the ambit of the Islamists at his university. Aswany shows how Islamist rhetoric works on the young man, pulling at his desire for Busayna. We can symphathize with how Taha becomes an activist, and we understand his desire for revenge, not as a brainwashed youth marching into Paradise, but as someone who has experienced very real torture at the hands of state security forces. It is this factor of torture that proples him into the violent act that ends the novel. There are numerous clues that he, (like his first love Busayna and others) is a victim of cynical manipulation by those who were supposed to be his closest compatriots. Finally The Yacoubian Building is a heartbreaking commentary on the venality of everyday life, and a look into the heartbreaking choices that people must make in these conditions. Aswany's book is a critique of power and the raw urge to dominate and use others that lies at the core of violence. When Hatim tosses racist slurs at his lover Abduh, when Hagg manipulates his mistress into an abortion, we see that the Islamists are not the cause but a symptom of a society profoundly sickened by corruption and greed. Women and men wear masks over their feelings, performing a lie, just as the state wears a mask of piety and order cloaking its brutal forms of repression, hypocricy and violence. Aswany ends the novel on a note of optimism--the wedding of Zaki and Busayna, the old aristocrat and his young lover. In spite of evil, Aswany seems to be saying, love, fragile but persistent, can bloom out of degradation and humiliation.

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More of Cairo: Taha Hussein's grave, the Maqam of Imam Shafi'i, and Ibn Ata Illah

"I arrived at length at Cairo, mother of cities and seat of Pharaoh the tyrant, mistress of broad regions and fruitful lands, boundless in multitude of buildings, peerless in beauty and splendour, the meeting-place of comer and goer, the halting-place of feeble and mighty, whose throngs surge as the waves of the sea, and can scarce be contained in her for all her size and capacity." -Ibn Battuta

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The Pyramids

On a hot dusty day in Cairo, I jumped on a bus heading west to the suburb of Giza and the pyramids. Its quite a revelation to find that the Pyramids are smack in the middle of a bustling suburban area of Cairo, even more so when you encounter their stark beauty and sheer size. As for the relentless atmosphere of tourism, the scantily clad Italian and German tour package retirees...well it doesn't take away from the silent beauty of these monuments to the afterlife.

I also had the opportunity to see a much smaller less spectacular pyramid called the Step Pyramid. It is the oldest stone monument in existence, designed by the legendary architect, doctor and sage Imhotep. As always, enjoy the pictures!

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Islamic Cairo part One

Cairo, the city victorious; what can one say? Too many layers of history to sum up neatly. The people the buildings/ dusty apartment balconies, a millenia of handworked stone on minarets and domes/ the magnificent crumbling of old homes. Tables spread in the street for millions. The adhan comes, the adhan goes/the faithful bow in calm repose. I blow black snot from my nose. Cairo is beautiful, pulsing, polluted and home to the hardest hustlers anywhere, cats who can look at you, assess your nationality, and pitch their sale in your native language without missing a beat. My first night here I sat playing backgammon at a cafe with some friends and the subject turned to wheat, the commodity that is apparently bleeding Egyptian coffers dry as they try to buy it on the open market after their main suppliers--Australia and Russia--suffered severe shortages of export due to drought and (in Russia's case) massive fires. This bread called "aish" (Arabic meaning life), is an Egyptian staple and attempted substitutes have not been popular. The next day another friend related that much of Islamic Cairo lay under a giant accumulating pool of sewage, which was styming some restoration efforts. How long can 20 million people beat a living from the desert here? But yet they do, day after day. For now I'm the tourist just soaking in the incredible pace and feel of life here. Yesterday at an Indian restaurant in Zamalek for iftar, we ran into Gamal Nkrumah, Kwame Nkrumah's son who was offered asylum in Egypt after his father was deposed in Ghana. He works for Al-Ahram Weekly. Other than iftars and internet cafes, my main activity has been visiting shrines and masjids and buying gifts for the family. I present to you the results of my visits around Islamic Cairo. If anyone remembers my photos from Damascus, they will notice that Cairo also has a Seyyid Hussein maqam (allegedly also his head) and a Seyyida Zeinab maqam. Enjoy!

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Amman to Aqaba to Nuweiba to Cairo

So I started out taking a bus to Aqaba from Amman. The bus was air conditioned, I slept most of the way, and arrived in Aqaba to ridiculious heat and a bunch of crabby taxi drivers. 5 JD (Jordanian dinars) one says, and starts to pick up one of my bags before I assent. Then another guy swoops in, picks up another bag and yells "3 JD!" I move to go with him and a huge tug of war ensues with the first guy cursing the second profusely and then trying to wrench my bag from his hands. I finally get in the second taxi and we go to the ticket office and then to the port. There were no tickets at the port, which I think, in retrospect, he knew, so we go to the main ticket office and I buy a ferry ticket. He then drops off his other passenger and ends up by taking me to a nearby lodge for the night, as the fast ferry has already left for the day. Meanwhile he is smoking (claiming he can't stop because too many "beautiful ladies at the beach") and blaring Ciara and some Arab disco-trance monstrosities over the sound system. He charges me 11, yes 11 JD for the ride, claiming each trip back and forth cost 3 JD plus 2 JD to the lodge. Sigh. I gave in.
At the lodge, the price/per night the driver quoted me of 15 JD has gone up to 45 JD. The manager is trying to claim its because it "includes breakfast". When I say I won't be eating breakfast because of fasting, he gets interested. "Are you Muslim?" "Do you swear on your God that you are Muslim?" I decline to swear but offer to recite al-Fatiha, which he accepts. He lowers the price to 20 JD and invites me for iftar.

After a beautiful air-conditioned sleep, I wake up for iftar. At iftar, one of the guys asks me if I know of Hamza Yusuf! LOL....the world is getting smaller everyday.

The beach at Aqaba is quiet and beautiful and the stars had started to come out, so I went and sat and watched the waves for about an hour. Very restful. Went to sleep early after swimming some laps in the pool.

The next morning I get up and go to the ferry. In the customs line, I speak a little Arabic to the officer, telling him I was studying Arabic in Amman. The guy next to me is tall, bald, and diesel in the extreme...looks like Israeli army off duty. They question him a bit longer than me, as he went through Israel. Outside, attempting to strike up conversation, he asks me: "Are you actually Muslim or do you just dress like that for protection?" (I happen to be wearing a kufi). Sigh....its Ramadan so I humor him. "Yep I'm really Muslim"....Turns out he is some Italian businessman on holiday. He spends most of the boat ride trying to chat up two striking Afghani girls from Germany.

On the boat, an Egyptian guy, his sister and her four kids sit near me. The kids are hilarious...we have a good time messing around. The guy's name is Mahmoud. "Will you be my friend?" he asks. This happens a lot to me actually...random strangers desiring to be my friend. It takes some getting used to. When he finds out I'm from Chicago he asks, "How is Chicago? kweis? (good?)" When I answer in the affirmative, he continues, "but Chicago...niggers." Its a one word statement of his twisted view of reality, a depressing distillation of white supremacist ideology...writ global. So many things go through my head...Dubois, pan-Africanism, Arab racism, American tv...where the hell did he even learn that word with his halting English?
And finally we arrive in Nuweiba on the Sinai Peninsula. From there I buy a bus ticket to Cairo, for a bus "leaving in half an hour". 2 hours later we finally depart. The air conditioning creaks and barely works, the dust on the seats fills my lungs and the world outside as we move from the port becomes like the landscape of an ancient planet...rock formations with geological time mapped onto their contoured layers, walls of sand blown against the rocks, red and black and brown earth stretching for miles without any sign of human habitation.

We stop for iftar at some highway restaurant. I eat kifta which tastes like it has rocks in it and go to the bathroom to wash my hands for prayer. As I come out a kid is collecting money at the door. Everyone in front of me gives, so I feel compelled as well...but what am I paying for? I give him a 5 pound note and change is not forthcoming until I demand it. Welcome to Egypt.

At 11pm we arrive in Cairo and its a different world....overpasses and billboards and wall to wall traffic. Again I manage to negotiate a decent taxi price (although the first driver pawns me off on a second one who tries to ask for a higher fare) the driver, although he protests, is relatively straight up once I make it clear what the deal is.

And just like that I'm in Garden City...a beautiful neighborhood of gates and walls and trees and long curving avenues. Its so quiet and peaceful at night. My friend comes and scoops me and my looong journey is over.

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"Where the Middle East Meets Africa"

My friend and colleague W.H. Marsh has been penning some interesting stuff on his blog "Where the Middle East Meets Africa" He is currently doing a Fulbright in Cairo and has a lot of interesting insights about race, culture and politics there.

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