In January I visited Egypt for the first time since the tragic events of 9/11. It was a nice get-away from Minnesota’s harsh weather and from the gloating smirks of conservative friends all around me. Previous visits to my birthplace had revolved around relaxing and revisiting old places, meeting families and friends and reminiscing about childhood memories. This time I went to Egypt to look for an answer to a singular question that has crowded my mind since our two-term president so hastily raised it, immediately after the attack of September 11, “Why do they (Muslims) hate us?”
Are my people inherently hateful creatures? Do Muslims hate America for what it does or for what America is? Is Islam—as a prominent American evangelical once suggested—a religion of violence? Is our Allah a hateful god? All these questions had hovered over my head throughout my trip like a heavy cloud. After a long 24 hour flight full of anxiety and frisking at airports I arrived at Cairo international airport at 2:00 in the morning. Fourteen members of my family were waiting at the airport gate, among a sea of other Egyptians who were waiting for their loved ones. The outpouring of emotion was overwhelming and their raw emotion was refreshing. The first question I asked myself was, are those the same angry people whom I used to see on Fox and CNN evening news? Are those people, with that much love for their visiting sons and daughters the same people who send them to become suicide bombers and terrorists?
After a long restful day that was full of laughter and eating, I sat down with one of my brothers, a devoted Muslim who in 1981 had been snatched out of his wife’s arms and the frantic cry of his own kids at dawn by Egyptian secret police. He was locked in the notorious Egyptian jail Al-Qalaah in the western suburb of Cairo without any trial, and he was tortured for 13 months then let go without even an apology or explanation.
I asked him how he feels about Americans, and whether Muslims hate America. “How could I hate people I haven’t even met? Our problem is with the Bush Administration’s crusade against Muslims, not with the American people.”
America, he felt, talks a lot about peace but seems always at war. I asked him how his life changed after the traumatic experience in prison. “The nightmare and fear of reoccurrence is always there,” he mused sadly, “here I live like a second class citizen in my own country.”
I visited the Egyptian press association, a majestic building in the heart of downtown Cairo. I went to a huge office on the 4th floor to see Aassem Hanafy, an Egyptian journalist who has been writing about Egyptian life for more than 30 years in Rosel-Youssef magazine. I asked him directly why or if Egyptians hate America/Americans. In response, he grabbed my hand and walked me over to a picture window overlooking the famous El-Sherif Street. “Look and listen to those people,” he demanded with a serious voice. “Do they really look like they have the time or the energy to hate anyone?” Most Egyptians are so consumed by their harsh daily lives that they don’t have time to hate. When I asked Hanafy what bugged him the most about Americans. He exploded: “We gave them all the attention, we were so interested in their culture, politics, movies, music, etc., but Americans didn’t reciprocate, Americans are not interested in us, we have a great history and culture, but Americans only stereotype us. I refuse to be ignored.”
After more than 50 years of failed nationalist movements and rule by an undemocratic police state, Egyptians are becoming more ambivalent to anything that doesn’t directly affect their personal daily life: family, private tutoring for children, food, traffic, jobs, marriage. Many have lost their interest in politics and even their fervor for soccer. So where are those angry Muslims who shout death threats to America in front of the TV cameras on the network evening news? As Lila Tallat, a university student explained to me when I met her at Cairo University, “From the moment we wake up until we go back to bed at night, we are faced with incurable problems. We don’t have time for the self-important and self-biting America.”
Unlike America where you will see the American flag posted everywhere on cars, businesses, restaurants, car dealers, houses and front yards, in Egypt the flag is not prevalent. This flagrant obsession with flags is absent in the Arab world in general. What you see instead are pictures of presidents, like Mubarak, posted everywhere, on every building, on public or business offices and in public squares. Flags to Egyptians, as to most Arabs, represents the past and serves as a symbol of their disgrace and disappointment in leaders and nationalism. What brings most Arabs together now is their religion, and the Qur’an is not just a holy book but the symbol of unity and bride. It is their constitution, and mosques and homes have become Muslims private spaces where presidents’ pictures are replaced by verses of the Qur’an. In the Arab world, freedom of expression is a private affair where the Arab leaders get their real names, president Mubarak is the “laughing cow,” president Kadaffi is el Magnoon; the “lunatic,” King Abdallah is the el Malek elmaatouh; the royal idiot, and Saddam was Gazar Baghdad; the “Butcher of Baghdad.”
On a beautiful sunny morning I took my video camera in search of the American haters on the streets of Cairo. It was the beginning of a four-day celebration of the Islamic holiday, the feast of sacrifice, where every able Muslim family is required to sacrifice a lamb and give to the poor to commemorate the saving of Abraham’s oldest son’s life – Ismaeel (Ishmail) (let us not get picky now on which son). As I was walking by an apartment building a big crowd was watching with amusement, engaged in the slaughtering ritual. Is this a good time to get people to talk to me about hate, I wondered? A fully clothed middle aged woman who was waiting to get her share of the slaughtered lamb asked me if I was here for the meat give away. I told her, “I live in America and . . .” she interrupted me; “Amreecca!” (as Egyptians call it) and she gasped as if she just met or heard about someone she knew long time ago. I asked her if she would like to say something about America. “Malha Ameeeka?” or, “What about America?” she answered, “they are as beautiful as their glossy cheese that they used to give us when I was a youngster in school. I don’t know why we don’t get along,” and then she ran to get her share of the meat.
How about the children, do they hate America?
I walked to one of the few public parks in the Almoneerah, a crowded area west of Cairo. Kids with beautiful brightly colored clothes were playing everywhere in the small gated park, celebrating the feast. Hundreds of innocent young girls and boys playing together, taking rides, kicking the soccer ball and just enjoying great clean fun. I approached a tall slim 13-year-old girl with long black hair and big wide dark eyes. Her name was Ryhan Salah, She seemed to be looking after her younger brothers. I asked her if she could help me collect a few children to talk about America on camera. In a few seconds a human storm of more than 20 kids were climbing all over me. Had they ever been told not to talk to a stranger? If they had, climbing over them wasn’t in their parental advisory list. Too young to talk about hate, I asked them, “What does America mean to you?” They all started screaming and talking at the same time. The boys’ idea of America was all about forbidden fruits. “I like their apples, peaches, and bananas,” said an eleven old boy. “I like their sweets and ice cream,” added another.
In the midst of this food fight chaos, a pretty little eight-year-old girl in jeans and a yellow T-shirt jumped up and literally climbed over everyone standing in her way, demanding attention from all around her. “Be quiet, I want to say something!” she shouted with the confidence of a well-compensated CEO. She stared right into the camera and began shouting, “I love America, I love America!” She repeated it over and over; as if she needed to make sure everyone understood this complex concept of America loving. “I want to go to America, I wish I could live in America!” she cried. Her name was Narmeen Muhammed, and I asked her why she loves America. “I love American people; they look beautiful and they smile a lot.” I asked her what she might like to say if she met an eight-year-old American girl like her. “I want to be your friend,” she immediately answered with a hopeful smile.
As I was leaving the park, Ryhan, the tall girl with beautiful wide eyes who was unusually quiet followed me and asked if she could say something to the American kids, I immediately handed her the microphone. She shyly looked to the camera and whispered, “I like you all, and I want to meet you, do you like me?”
This absurd notion of why others hate us has been ingrained in the American consciousness since the first immigrants arrived on this island. “Why should we engage ourselves with the world that we had left behind? The others—they hate us anyway,” reflects a conservative mindset used to justify our isolationist predisposition towards the rest of the world.
America has always been about exceptionalism, and for right-wing conservatives, Americans represent the chosen people and the world is envious of them, it’s that simple. But we need to understand that as a nation our arrogant and self-righteous attitude toward world affairs has everything to do with the way the world views us.
This administration wants us to believe Muslims hate us for who we are and not for what we do. But the opposite reality is found in those Egyptians kids, who were innocent enough to love America and offer that love without conditions. Any takers?
Ahmed Tharwat is a Freelance Writer, Producer and Host of the Arab American TV show BelAhdan which Airs on MN Public TV, Sundays at 10:30pm. www.belahdan.com.
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