Ten Minutes Older, was a classic cinematic experience, that was both delightful and frightful. I couldn't help but feel a nurturing responsibility towards the child, the central character of this documentary, as it experienced a fragile ten minutes.
Constructed to involve us as spectators of a group of children watching what seemed a horror film, but not able to see what the children were observing, we the viewers were left in suspense, only able to judge developments of the story, by observing the children's reactions to what they were watching and by following the suggestive score, that echoed the emotional journey of the children.
What made the film endearing, was the role the central character played, a little three or four year old, who helped create tremendous empathy with the idea. This was emphasised by intuitive camera work. Shot in one long take, key moments were highlighted through tight close-ups, that revealed the sweet face of the central character, experiencing awe, fear and relief as a reaction to what it was watching. In one case the child's eyes were filled with tears, in another it cried out in fear and occasionally the child smiled sweetly. There's no doubt that the film was moving.
Hosted by Land in Focus, as part of a series of experimental Baltic cinema, during the East End Film Festival, in only ten minutes, we observed a child's innocence affected little by little, symbolic of what life might have in store for us as we grow older. It left me wondering whether the child was left emotionally scathed as a result of this filmic experience.
I write about documentaries.
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
Saturday, 23 April 2011
Pina in 3D by Wim Wenders: 100 percent emotion
Wim Wenders' documentary Pina left me astounded. I was left bathed with delight from beginning to end. Wim Wenders left no stone unturned, making this documentary a circular experience. This is what a documentary made with love looks like.
I've got two things to mention that made the experience emotionally enriching.
Aesthetically 3D technology was used in such a way to simulate the experience of a live dance performance in the theatre. 3D was an integral part of the treatment of the story, making it visually engaging in a near realistic way.
This realistic experience was accentuated by the underlying emotional journey of Pina Bausch's legendary life and labour of love as a dancer and choreographer, projected onto me in the audience. In just 100 minutes, I experienced delight, sorrow, happiness, ecstasy, the pain of death, loss and love.
It was a 100 percent emotional journey.
I've got two things to mention that made the experience emotionally enriching.
Aesthetically 3D technology was used in such a way to simulate the experience of a live dance performance in the theatre. 3D was an integral part of the treatment of the story, making it visually engaging in a near realistic way.
This realistic experience was accentuated by the underlying emotional journey of Pina Bausch's legendary life and labour of love as a dancer and choreographer, projected onto me in the audience. In just 100 minutes, I experienced delight, sorrow, happiness, ecstasy, the pain of death, loss and love.
It was a 100 percent emotional journey.
Monday, 11 April 2011
The Sandwich - Egyptian Ethnographic Documentary
Watching Ateyyat El Abnoudy's documentary from 1975, The Sandwich, was a 12 minute ethnographic delight. I was delighted to see a part of Egyptian rural life, that had a romantic notion of the past to it, and that was far removed from Cairo's modern metropolitan life that I had grown up with. I wondered if things were still the same, in that part of rural Egypt.
I decided to dedicate this post to a documentary from a past era, as I find it both necessary and inspiring to watch classics, like The Sandwich. Egyptian documentaries are difficult to get hold of. It sometimes seems like trying to find a pin in a haystack, that I was thrilled to have attended a whole evening of Egyptian documentaries and art films, during the Egypt in Focus event, hosted by Land in Focus.
The Sandwich documents the slow paced life of a rural village in Egypt, starting off with a classic bread-making sequence, which was one of my favourite scenes. I could have indulged in that scene for a bit longer.
The second sequence that I enjoyed watching was of a goat boy, who was in the process of milking a goat, having offered it a piece of bread from the earlier scene. The goat boy then poured the milk into his piece of bread, creating a sandwich, as the title of the film goes.
The third sequence I liked was that of the train arriving, and the village children running to the crossing, excited by its arrival. It portrayed a moment of joyful simplicity of life.
I decided to dedicate this post to a documentary from a past era, as I find it both necessary and inspiring to watch classics, like The Sandwich. Egyptian documentaries are difficult to get hold of. It sometimes seems like trying to find a pin in a haystack, that I was thrilled to have attended a whole evening of Egyptian documentaries and art films, during the Egypt in Focus event, hosted by Land in Focus.
The Sandwich documents the slow paced life of a rural village in Egypt, starting off with a classic bread-making sequence, which was one of my favourite scenes. I could have indulged in that scene for a bit longer.
The second sequence that I enjoyed watching was of a goat boy, who was in the process of milking a goat, having offered it a piece of bread from the earlier scene. The goat boy then poured the milk into his piece of bread, creating a sandwich, as the title of the film goes.
The third sequence I liked was that of the train arriving, and the village children running to the crossing, excited by its arrival. It portrayed a moment of joyful simplicity of life.
Saturday, 19 March 2011
Alexandria Symphony of a City - Documentary
I thought it would be nice to share this documentary about Alexandria today, on the day of Egypt's constitutional referendum. It's an important day in Egypt's history and this short was produced in a time when Egypt was still under dictatorship. Little did I know that Egypt would be free two years later. Today's a day of celebration.
Alexandria Symphony of a City is a short documentary that I produced during a visit there in the winter of 2009. I wanted to capture a nostalgic romantic mood inspired by classic black and white Egyptian movies of the 1950s and 1960s with actors like Omar Sherief, Faten Hamama and Roushdy Abaza. These were elegant times (or at least I perceived them that way), when Egypt had a voice culturally, intellectually and politically. I feel these times are returning now. Freedom has made everything possible now.
I always see Alexandria in black and white. I sometimes feel like it's frozen in time, especially when I drive along the Alexandrian Corniche and when I see some of the classic buildings like the Cecil Hotel, now called the Sofitel Cecil Alexandria, where my parents used to go.
Not sure how to structure the narrative arc, I ended up developing the concept around a day journey to Alexandria. Hence you see the film start with the arrival by train during daytime and departure at the train station in the evening.
The film was inspired by classics like the 1927 Berlin Symphony of a Metropolis. The idea of some of the train shots came from there. I love some of those classics.
Alexandria Symphony of a City is a short documentary that I produced during a visit there in the winter of 2009. I wanted to capture a nostalgic romantic mood inspired by classic black and white Egyptian movies of the 1950s and 1960s with actors like Omar Sherief, Faten Hamama and Roushdy Abaza. These were elegant times (or at least I perceived them that way), when Egypt had a voice culturally, intellectually and politically. I feel these times are returning now. Freedom has made everything possible now.
I always see Alexandria in black and white. I sometimes feel like it's frozen in time, especially when I drive along the Alexandrian Corniche and when I see some of the classic buildings like the Cecil Hotel, now called the Sofitel Cecil Alexandria, where my parents used to go.
Not sure how to structure the narrative arc, I ended up developing the concept around a day journey to Alexandria. Hence you see the film start with the arrival by train during daytime and departure at the train station in the evening.
The film was inspired by classics like the 1927 Berlin Symphony of a Metropolis. The idea of some of the train shots came from there. I love some of those classics.
I hope you like watching it. Please leave any comments/thoughts.
I'd vote NO
If I was in Egypt today, I'd vote NO. It's another emotional day, as Egyptians go out to vote in the constitutional referendum taking place today. I feel a bit teary-eyed at the thought that again, I'm missing out on a significant moment in Egypt's history and I don't know why Stevie Wonder's track: That's what Friends are For, is running in the back of my mind.
If I was there, I'd vote NO, because I believe Egypt needs a new constitution, not an amended one that was built on the wrong foundations.
I hope NO wins today, as I'd like to see a fair democratic political process being built, with the right amount of time required to get to an Egypt with a strong democratic fair and tolerant foundation.
If I was there, I'd vote NO, because I believe Egypt needs a new constitution, not an amended one that was built on the wrong foundations.
I hope NO wins today, as I'd like to see a fair democratic political process being built, with the right amount of time required to get to an Egypt with a strong democratic fair and tolerant foundation.
Thursday, 17 March 2011
Guilty Pleasures: A romantic comedy documentary
Guilty Pleasures is a documentary that I enjoyed watching. Contrary to what I expected, it turned out to be what I call a romantic comedy documentary. I'm not sure if the term exists within documentary genres, but I've noticed the rise of more documentaries that capture love stories. Or maybe I'm just drawn to that genre and seeking them out.
Like Guilty Pleasures, a good romantic comedy documentary is heartwarming and it leaves you smiling at the end. I find these kind of documentaries a nice escapist break from reality.
And like the Mills & Boon romance novel, on which the documentary was based, it mirrored that escapist world. Director Julie Moggan said in a Q&A following the screening at this year's Birds Eye View festival, that she'd come across a news article that stated, every four seconds somewhere around the world, a Mills & Boon is sold. That inspired her to make this documentary and to seek out Mills & Boon readers around the world.
And like a classic Mills & Boon book, the documentary featured characters that were going through personal struggles in their romantic lives. It featured a number of female Mills & Boon readers and their partners, but the woman that stood out most for me was Hiroko a Japanese housewife. I just found her likeable.
I could have sworn the whole thing was scripted. Hiroko read Mills & Boon and fantasised about being swept off by a prince charming during a ballroom dance. She was looking for a kind of romance that she did not encounter in her marital life. But reading about it was not enough for her, and she decided to embark on a ballroom dance course to make that dream come true.
In the process she sort of fell in love with her handsome dance instructor. But as time continued, her ambitions grew and wanting to participate in a dance competition, a costly matter, her husband decided to join her. Together they embarked on dance lessons in preparation for the grand competition. In Hiroko's case, her dream for prince charming became a reality in her marriage and on top of that, they won the competition, a happy ending to her journey.
The thing that stood out most for me was the structure of Guilty Pleasures. It was cut in a way to mirror reality versus fantasy. Like the action of reading a romantic novel, specific scenes would enable that escapism to take place. Aided by a romantic score, I felt it most during Hiroko's dance scenes.
On the other hand, reality would return once the novel was put down. This was particularly strong in the case of Shirley, an English woman. Mills & Boon helped her escape into her own world. Shirley was in a loving relationship, but having to struggle with her partner's depression. It served as a strong reminder to real life in contrast to her Mills & Boon world.
The other striking character in Guilty Pleasures was Stephen, the North American cover model. His presence in the documentary served to present us with an iconic picture, symbolical of the typical hero. Structurally, the interludes with him, tanned and well-built, driving his racing boat, arriving like a knight in shining armour, dramatised this escapist world. The sun was always shining and the sky was blue in scenes featuring Stephen. It was a backdrop fit for a Mills & Boon cover, in contrast to some of the grey scenes that reflected the mundaneness of real life outside the novel.
Like Guilty Pleasures, a good romantic comedy documentary is heartwarming and it leaves you smiling at the end. I find these kind of documentaries a nice escapist break from reality.
And like the Mills & Boon romance novel, on which the documentary was based, it mirrored that escapist world. Director Julie Moggan said in a Q&A following the screening at this year's Birds Eye View festival, that she'd come across a news article that stated, every four seconds somewhere around the world, a Mills & Boon is sold. That inspired her to make this documentary and to seek out Mills & Boon readers around the world.
And like a classic Mills & Boon book, the documentary featured characters that were going through personal struggles in their romantic lives. It featured a number of female Mills & Boon readers and their partners, but the woman that stood out most for me was Hiroko a Japanese housewife. I just found her likeable.
I could have sworn the whole thing was scripted. Hiroko read Mills & Boon and fantasised about being swept off by a prince charming during a ballroom dance. She was looking for a kind of romance that she did not encounter in her marital life. But reading about it was not enough for her, and she decided to embark on a ballroom dance course to make that dream come true.
In the process she sort of fell in love with her handsome dance instructor. But as time continued, her ambitions grew and wanting to participate in a dance competition, a costly matter, her husband decided to join her. Together they embarked on dance lessons in preparation for the grand competition. In Hiroko's case, her dream for prince charming became a reality in her marriage and on top of that, they won the competition, a happy ending to her journey.
The thing that stood out most for me was the structure of Guilty Pleasures. It was cut in a way to mirror reality versus fantasy. Like the action of reading a romantic novel, specific scenes would enable that escapism to take place. Aided by a romantic score, I felt it most during Hiroko's dance scenes.
On the other hand, reality would return once the novel was put down. This was particularly strong in the case of Shirley, an English woman. Mills & Boon helped her escape into her own world. Shirley was in a loving relationship, but having to struggle with her partner's depression. It served as a strong reminder to real life in contrast to her Mills & Boon world.
The other striking character in Guilty Pleasures was Stephen, the North American cover model. His presence in the documentary served to present us with an iconic picture, symbolical of the typical hero. Structurally, the interludes with him, tanned and well-built, driving his racing boat, arriving like a knight in shining armour, dramatised this escapist world. The sun was always shining and the sky was blue in scenes featuring Stephen. It was a backdrop fit for a Mills & Boon cover, in contrast to some of the grey scenes that reflected the mundaneness of real life outside the novel.
Sunday, 6 March 2011
Exit through the Gift Shop: The artist is the art
Banksy's documentary Exit through the Gift Shop a collaboration with Thierry Guetta, was a film I very much looked forward to. I was keen to see who the enigmatic man was. What surprised me most was the film was not about Banksy, but about Thierry Guetta. But as I later discovered, it revealed a lot about Banksy and the world we live in, through Thierry Guetta's journey.
Thiery aka Mister Brainwash (MBW) shot to fame as a street artist after taking on Banksy's challenge to drop his film project and to become a street artist instead. This is where the story began. Perhaps Thierry was Banksy's artwork which spun out of control and took on a life form of its own. I say this in a loving not cynical way. I liked Banksy and I liked the suggestion that he was the black reaper at work, determining the fate of a mortal.
The film took an interesting turn when the camera was turned on Thierry. Till that point, I was a bit disappointed with the conventional narrative structure. A bit of observational footage intercut with interviews, narrated by a well known actor. And generally at that point I felt the pace was too quick, not allowing me to engage enough with the featured artists and their work. But to my surprise about 3/3 in, a turn took place and I was able to enjoy the documentary. I found out more about Banksy in that last third.
It seemed to me at first that Thierry's fate as a street artist was orchestrated by Banksy. There was an element of suspense built into the film as I waited for Thierry to fall to his artistic death decided by Banksy. But that moment didn't happen. For example when Thierry asked Banksy for a quote to help him promote his show, I expected Banksy to react less amenably. But nothing like that happened and thankfully there were no exhibits of clichéed artistic behaviour.
This said a lot about Banksy. Maybe this documentary was about Banksy in a roundabout way after all. As a side comment, I also found some of the narrative detail revealing. For example, I enjoyed getting a tiny glimpse into the personal world of Banksy through a close-up shot of his hand holding a bunch of £10 forged bills he'd printed, where I noticed the ring on his finger. Whether intentional or not, it was a little window into his personal life.
I also found Banksy's views on Thierry's success interesting, which said more about the society that we live in than they did about Thierry: "I don’t know what it means Thierry's huge success and arrival in the art world. I mean maybe Thierry was a genius all along. Maybe he got a bit lucky. Maybe it means art is a bit of a joke." It also revealed Banksy's down-to-earth side, a fact I enjoyed discovering about him.
The current obsession with celebrity and instant fame as widely seen in popular culture, was best captured by Shepard Fairey, an established graffiti artist who underlined the irony of it all: "The whole phenomeon of Thierry's obsession with street art, becoming a street artist, a lot of suckers buying into his show and him selling a lot of expensive art very quickly...it’s anthropologically sociologically...it’s a fascinating thing to observe and maybe there’s somethings to be learnt from it."
Perhaps Exit through the Gift Shop was more of an experiment of today's popular culture. It revealed that Thierry was essentially a marketing phenomenon. Only time will judge his quality as an artist, a point Thierry raised himself, but till then I feel it was a case where the artist was the art.
Thursday, 3 March 2011
Shafiq you're the weakest link, good bye
I also did not like the way Alaa El Aswani lost his cool with Ahmed Shafiq, Egypt's then prime minister and now ex-prime minister on yesterday's OTV live Egypt political panel discussion, but I also liked what he said. His style was not professional, but I think we should separate the two: his message and how he delivered it.
Also, we should put this whole discussion into context. This is the first time we see an open debate of this calibre on Egyptian television. The prime minister for the first time is being questioned / drilled... This debate was unprecedented. I was witnessing a special moment in Egypt's post-revolutionary democracy.
The PM was in my view in a difficult situation as he had to bear the brunt of 30 years of oppression. In other words, for the first time the lid was lifted and all that steam came out in one go. He was shot, as the messenger of 30 years of political oppression.
It was not a natural situation and I bet you Aswani would in future handle a debate differently. At least I would hope so. When has the ruling authority in Egypt been questioned in public?
The main outcome for me is the debate showed that Shafik is not committed to any positive change. This is more important to note from this debate than the fact that Aswani was unprofessional.
Aswani stood up for the rights of the revolution and he made good points. That is honourable enough for me.
Also, we should put this whole discussion into context. This is the first time we see an open debate of this calibre on Egyptian television. The prime minister for the first time is being questioned / drilled... This debate was unprecedented. I was witnessing a special moment in Egypt's post-revolutionary democracy.
The PM was in my view in a difficult situation as he had to bear the brunt of 30 years of oppression. In other words, for the first time the lid was lifted and all that steam came out in one go. He was shot, as the messenger of 30 years of political oppression.
It was not a natural situation and I bet you Aswani would in future handle a debate differently. At least I would hope so. When has the ruling authority in Egypt been questioned in public?
The main outcome for me is the debate showed that Shafik is not committed to any positive change. This is more important to note from this debate than the fact that Aswani was unprofessional.
Aswani stood up for the rights of the revolution and he made good points. That is honourable enough for me.
Anyway since writing this note, I found out that Shafiq has resigned, which is in itself testimony to further incredible changes that we're witnessing in Egypt's political scene at the moment.
Monday, 14 February 2011
From Trafalgar Square to Midan El Tahrir
I got my chance to celebrate Egypt's freedom. That longing to be part of home was fulfilled by the dancing and singing with fellow Egyptian expatriates in Trafalgar Square. The revolution had awakened a national pride that I had not had before. It was a cold day, but the sun was shining. It felt like the sun would shine on Egypt from now on.
No longer able to delay my trip to Egypt, I caught the next Egypt Air flight and arrived in Cairo on Sunday 13th of February. It felt like a spiritual pilgrimage, that I needed to take. I'm not quite sure why an obsession had over-taken me during the period of the revolution. I felt I needed to go to Egypt and to be part of it. I didn't make it back in time, instead I expressed my support for the protest from London, all the while feeling like a bit of an exile.
I put my life on hold for the entire period as probably every other Egyptian expatriate did; glued to the television, to Facebook, Twitter or protesting outside the Egyptian embassy. I was part of the community abroad obsessed with developments in Egypt. I'm sure my political awareness peaked dramatically in that phase. The only entries on Facebook were related to Egypt. Political discussions ensued for the full period, some were in the pro demonstration camp and others were in the pro stability camp. Some pro stability supporters felt that the expatriate community had no right to encourage demonstrators to go out on the streets as we were not out in the streets ourselves. Some of these Facebook debates ended in friendships breaking up. People's sensitivities were heightened.
I always felt I was showing solidarity with the greater cause. The demonstrators had made up their own minds to take to the streets. Would I have gone? It's difficult to answer this question in a theoretical framework. Perhaps I would have been crippled by fear from the violent backlash and perhaps I would have overcome my fear. It's simply impossible to answer this question. I do feel I would have joined the march, but not knowing what I would have done, I did what I could from London.
All that time I was acutely aware of the fact that I was involved with the cause from the comfort of my Western home. I couldn't possibly appreciate what Egyptians had experienced. That's one of the reasons why I wanted to experience it there. I finally decided to go to Egypt after the revolution, to witness things for myself.
When I finally landed at Cairo International Airport, I soon realised how removed I'd been from what had happened. I noticed on my way home, that Egypt was pretty much back to normal. If you had not known that a revolution had taken place a few days earlier, you would have been none the wiser. I'd arrived with sensational images of a city in a state of battle, burned into my mind, thanks to coverage by BBC and Al Jazeera. But instead there was a calm, albeit an unsettling calm. The only noticeable difference was the relatively empty flight and a fairly quiet airport. It wasn't bustling the way I'd left it a few weeks earlier. I'd left Cairo on January 24th only a day before the January 25th uprising.
My first conversation with a fellow Egyptian was with a taxi driver on my way home. He told me he hadn't taken part in the demonstrations. He didn't have time for that type of thing. He told me he'd felt bad for the way Mubarak had been humiliated and how he'd been let down by his son Gamal who'd started the corruption. I left my opinion to myself. Although admittedly, having grown up with Mubarak as the country's 'partron', I'd also felt sorry for him for a second. I'd sensed he was a broken man and for a minute I'd forgotten who he really was.
I later met with my neighbour who gave me the key to our flat. My family was away and they'd left the key with him. My neighbour had been a part of the neighbourhood watch that had protected our area. The stories he told me made me realise even more how much I'd missed over the past 18 days. I'd missed a whole significant chapter in Egypt's history. It felt like I'd gone out during the interlude to get a drink and come back to realise I'd missed the central part of the play.
Hearing the tales of my neighbours who'd formed communities to protect their neighbourhoods from looters and criminals who'd broken out of prisons during the uprising, felt like listening to the plot of a film. They had a whole organised system going on, armed with guns, walkie talkies and symbols to identify their neighbourhood community. No one could get past their barricades, if not part of the same street or area. I'd heard all of this during telephone conversations with a friend in Cairo, but even then I couldn't really imagine what it felt like to live in fear. This was the other side of the story, that I'd seen hardly any coverage of during the 18 days of the revolt.
I felt I needed to make contact with a supporter of the protest in Egypt, and so I met with a friend of mine, who'd actively demonstrated in Tahrir Square, to discuss my grievances as an expatriate who had supported the protest from abroad and had experienced a backlash from the pro stability camp. He told me protestors in Tahrir appreciated the international support. It helped keep the momentum going. It was nice to hear that view. I realise now, everyone had their own personal experience and view during the revolution and I'd done the right thing by continuing my support for the cause no matter what critique I had experienced.
Next day, Monday 14th Feb, I finally went to Tahrir Square. Seeing tanks and soldiers patrolling the streets was a surreal experience. It reminded me that a revolution had really taken place. On every corner street vendors were selling Egyptian flags. Others were walking around waving their Egyptian flags proudly. The smell of baked batatas was in the air and nearby I saw some candy floss and milk rice puddings. I saw memorials with flowers and people crowded around them. I saw people moving around with a sense of urgency, as if on their way to the next ride in a game park. Some were taking photos with soldiers in front of their tanks. I secretly wanted to climb on top of one of the tanks and to be photographed as well. There was excitement in the air and I felt like I was on my way to a concert.
I saw a plant with people's notes hanging off it. It looked like a Christmas tree with children's wish lists, but I later realised it was people's thoughts on handwritten notes. Perhaps these were the dreams of those that had given up so much for our freedom.
The demonstrators had been moved off earlier on in the day by the army, and there were few protestors left. Camp Tahrir had sadly disappeared into oblivion, to be remembered later through thousands of photos and video recordings taken during this world changing moment. Anti Mubarak slogans had been painted over, perhaps a final gesture to cover-up the humiliating exit of Mubarak. I wished these slogans could have remained, to serve as a visible reminder of what had once been.
Youths were hanging out. Others were sweeping the streets and painting the pavements black and white euphorically. It was a symbolical moment, as they cleansed the streets from its former political corruption. Some people clumsily stepped on the freshly painted stones messing up the careful paintwork. Cars were back on the streets spinning around the square. There was a mad sense of order within this chaos. Remnants of the revolutionary days were mixed in with life's daily routines and traffic jams. Experiencing the two together was like seeing two alternate realities exist side by side. There was freedom and then there were the tanks, representing Egypt's current military rule.
The funny thing is, I'd only just been to Tahrir Square less than a month earlier. I'd passed through the square the same way I'd passed through it on any other day, without a second thought. I'd even walked by the NDP building. Little did I know, that it would soon go up in flames, a symbol of a 30 year old dictatorial regime. More importantly, little did I know that Tahrir Square would become a symbol of freedom worldwide, less than 4 weeks later.
No longer able to delay my trip to Egypt, I caught the next Egypt Air flight and arrived in Cairo on Sunday 13th of February. It felt like a spiritual pilgrimage, that I needed to take. I'm not quite sure why an obsession had over-taken me during the period of the revolution. I felt I needed to go to Egypt and to be part of it. I didn't make it back in time, instead I expressed my support for the protest from London, all the while feeling like a bit of an exile.
I put my life on hold for the entire period as probably every other Egyptian expatriate did; glued to the television, to Facebook, Twitter or protesting outside the Egyptian embassy. I was part of the community abroad obsessed with developments in Egypt. I'm sure my political awareness peaked dramatically in that phase. The only entries on Facebook were related to Egypt. Political discussions ensued for the full period, some were in the pro demonstration camp and others were in the pro stability camp. Some pro stability supporters felt that the expatriate community had no right to encourage demonstrators to go out on the streets as we were not out in the streets ourselves. Some of these Facebook debates ended in friendships breaking up. People's sensitivities were heightened.
I always felt I was showing solidarity with the greater cause. The demonstrators had made up their own minds to take to the streets. Would I have gone? It's difficult to answer this question in a theoretical framework. Perhaps I would have been crippled by fear from the violent backlash and perhaps I would have overcome my fear. It's simply impossible to answer this question. I do feel I would have joined the march, but not knowing what I would have done, I did what I could from London.
All that time I was acutely aware of the fact that I was involved with the cause from the comfort of my Western home. I couldn't possibly appreciate what Egyptians had experienced. That's one of the reasons why I wanted to experience it there. I finally decided to go to Egypt after the revolution, to witness things for myself.
When I finally landed at Cairo International Airport, I soon realised how removed I'd been from what had happened. I noticed on my way home, that Egypt was pretty much back to normal. If you had not known that a revolution had taken place a few days earlier, you would have been none the wiser. I'd arrived with sensational images of a city in a state of battle, burned into my mind, thanks to coverage by BBC and Al Jazeera. But instead there was a calm, albeit an unsettling calm. The only noticeable difference was the relatively empty flight and a fairly quiet airport. It wasn't bustling the way I'd left it a few weeks earlier. I'd left Cairo on January 24th only a day before the January 25th uprising.
My first conversation with a fellow Egyptian was with a taxi driver on my way home. He told me he hadn't taken part in the demonstrations. He didn't have time for that type of thing. He told me he'd felt bad for the way Mubarak had been humiliated and how he'd been let down by his son Gamal who'd started the corruption. I left my opinion to myself. Although admittedly, having grown up with Mubarak as the country's 'partron', I'd also felt sorry for him for a second. I'd sensed he was a broken man and for a minute I'd forgotten who he really was.
I later met with my neighbour who gave me the key to our flat. My family was away and they'd left the key with him. My neighbour had been a part of the neighbourhood watch that had protected our area. The stories he told me made me realise even more how much I'd missed over the past 18 days. I'd missed a whole significant chapter in Egypt's history. It felt like I'd gone out during the interlude to get a drink and come back to realise I'd missed the central part of the play.
Hearing the tales of my neighbours who'd formed communities to protect their neighbourhoods from looters and criminals who'd broken out of prisons during the uprising, felt like listening to the plot of a film. They had a whole organised system going on, armed with guns, walkie talkies and symbols to identify their neighbourhood community. No one could get past their barricades, if not part of the same street or area. I'd heard all of this during telephone conversations with a friend in Cairo, but even then I couldn't really imagine what it felt like to live in fear. This was the other side of the story, that I'd seen hardly any coverage of during the 18 days of the revolt.
I felt I needed to make contact with a supporter of the protest in Egypt, and so I met with a friend of mine, who'd actively demonstrated in Tahrir Square, to discuss my grievances as an expatriate who had supported the protest from abroad and had experienced a backlash from the pro stability camp. He told me protestors in Tahrir appreciated the international support. It helped keep the momentum going. It was nice to hear that view. I realise now, everyone had their own personal experience and view during the revolution and I'd done the right thing by continuing my support for the cause no matter what critique I had experienced.
Next day, Monday 14th Feb, I finally went to Tahrir Square. Seeing tanks and soldiers patrolling the streets was a surreal experience. It reminded me that a revolution had really taken place. On every corner street vendors were selling Egyptian flags. Others were walking around waving their Egyptian flags proudly. The smell of baked batatas was in the air and nearby I saw some candy floss and milk rice puddings. I saw memorials with flowers and people crowded around them. I saw people moving around with a sense of urgency, as if on their way to the next ride in a game park. Some were taking photos with soldiers in front of their tanks. I secretly wanted to climb on top of one of the tanks and to be photographed as well. There was excitement in the air and I felt like I was on my way to a concert.
I saw a plant with people's notes hanging off it. It looked like a Christmas tree with children's wish lists, but I later realised it was people's thoughts on handwritten notes. Perhaps these were the dreams of those that had given up so much for our freedom.
The demonstrators had been moved off earlier on in the day by the army, and there were few protestors left. Camp Tahrir had sadly disappeared into oblivion, to be remembered later through thousands of photos and video recordings taken during this world changing moment. Anti Mubarak slogans had been painted over, perhaps a final gesture to cover-up the humiliating exit of Mubarak. I wished these slogans could have remained, to serve as a visible reminder of what had once been.
Youths were hanging out. Others were sweeping the streets and painting the pavements black and white euphorically. It was a symbolical moment, as they cleansed the streets from its former political corruption. Some people clumsily stepped on the freshly painted stones messing up the careful paintwork. Cars were back on the streets spinning around the square. There was a mad sense of order within this chaos. Remnants of the revolutionary days were mixed in with life's daily routines and traffic jams. Experiencing the two together was like seeing two alternate realities exist side by side. There was freedom and then there were the tanks, representing Egypt's current military rule.
The funny thing is, I'd only just been to Tahrir Square less than a month earlier. I'd passed through the square the same way I'd passed through it on any other day, without a second thought. I'd even walked by the NDP building. Little did I know, that it would soon go up in flames, a symbol of a 30 year old dictatorial regime. More importantly, little did I know that Tahrir Square would become a symbol of freedom worldwide, less than 4 weeks later.
Friday, 11 February 2011
Dear Misr: My bitter sweet confession
Dear Misr,
It's a glorious day. The dictator has been uninstalled 100 per cent as one demonstrator tweeted.
I'm immensely proud for Egypt and eternally grateful for those brave people who took to your streets and reclaimed you as ours. Egypt is free. Egypt is full of optimism. Egypt is proud.
But as our people celebrate in Tahrir Square, I suddenly feel disconnected from it all. Absolute joy spreads across the midan and across the world and I'm supposed to be ecstatic, but instead I feel a subdued bitter sweetness, for I was not there. I was not on your streets of Cairo for the past 18 days and I'm not in Tahrir Square now standing shoulder to shoulder with all those fellow jubilant Egyptians. I feel de-rooted.
No matter how much they claim that technology has connected us, these moments can only be felt sincerely when you are there, feet on the ground, one person next to the other, sharing life the way one should.
But I end this confession with full of hope and optimism. I will take to the streets of London instead, and I will celebrate your freedom in whichever way I can. Long live Jan 25th. Freedom, democracy and justice forever.
yours faithfully,
Dok-Szene
It's a glorious day. The dictator has been uninstalled 100 per cent as one demonstrator tweeted.
I'm immensely proud for Egypt and eternally grateful for those brave people who took to your streets and reclaimed you as ours. Egypt is free. Egypt is full of optimism. Egypt is proud.
But as our people celebrate in Tahrir Square, I suddenly feel disconnected from it all. Absolute joy spreads across the midan and across the world and I'm supposed to be ecstatic, but instead I feel a subdued bitter sweetness, for I was not there. I was not on your streets of Cairo for the past 18 days and I'm not in Tahrir Square now standing shoulder to shoulder with all those fellow jubilant Egyptians. I feel de-rooted.
No matter how much they claim that technology has connected us, these moments can only be felt sincerely when you are there, feet on the ground, one person next to the other, sharing life the way one should.
But I end this confession with full of hope and optimism. I will take to the streets of London instead, and I will celebrate your freedom in whichever way I can. Long live Jan 25th. Freedom, democracy and justice forever.
yours faithfully,
Dok-Szene
Thursday, 3 February 2011
The true heroes of Egypt
Some critics suggest that the Egyptian ex-pat community abandoned Egypt so what claim do we have to the country's political future? We don't know what is really going on over there as we continue following the news from the comforts of our homes in the West.
When I have protested outside the Egyptian Embassy in London, it has been a protest without the fear that I will be terrorised, fired at with tear gas, shot at or intimidated. Yes it's true, I have felt safe in my right to express my opinion freely far away from the battle field of Tahrir. The same right should be given to Egyptian protestors in Egypt.
Even if I have left Egypt, it does not change the fact that I am entitled to an opinion on the matter. I stand for the right to demonstrate without the fear of violence. I stand for democracy, peace, social justice, tolerance and political freedom.
I extend my solidarity to our fellow Egyptians on the streets of Egypt. They are the true heroes of Egypt.
I do not claim to be a revolutionary. I do not wish to have any label. I merely wish to be seen as a fellow human citizen supporting a noble cause. The protestors have made a choice and I support them. I am not urging or inciting violence. I am only supporting peaceful democratic change and the right to express that opinion.
What can the ex-pat community do far way from the shores of the Mediterranean and the Nile? We can raise awareness within the international community and we can actively seek support through political channels internationally to stop the violence against the protestors. Egyptians should not be terrorised or silenced.
If we all held hands and went out in the streets of Cairo collectively, we would have a stronger voice. Until that happens, I urge my Egyptian friends to recognise that we are on the side of Egypt: for a better, free, tolerant, democratic Egypt.
Friday, 28 January 2011
Enemies of the People
Rob Lemkin's documentary Enemies of the People, directed and produced with Thet Sambas was screened at University College London (UCL) on Wednesday this week. The award-winning documentary attempts to explore the tragic history of the Killing Fields through the personal journey of Thet Sambas, a Cambodian journalist, whose family had been killed during the massacres, and who confronts his painful past by meeting some of the perpetrators of the former Khmer Rouge including one of the Khmer Rouge top leaders: Nuon Chea.
The film was made possible through the personal quest of Thet Sambas, who'd spent years looking for perpetrators of the former regime, attempting to get them to open up and to admit to their attrocities. It revealed the highly complex nature of a documentary of this sort. The film's success mainly relied on access to the perpetrators, something not easily achieved by an outside filmmaker and made possible by Thet Sambas. It was thanks to the persistence of Thet Sambas over the years and his ability to build relations with some of the former perpetrators that led to them opening up and revealing their dark pasts.
After years of his own research into the history that had affected him personally, Thet Sambas met with Rob Lemkin to work on a project which ultimately led to this film. Thus credit needs to be given to Thet Sambas who not only helped make this recount possible, but who also played a key role at establishing a connection with the story through his personal quest. At the same time credit needs to be given to Rob Lemkin for directing Thet Sambas' journey with tremendous sensitivity and objectivity towards all contributors.
While I found the film to be informative and engaging on a rational level, there was one element missing for me that made it more difficult to connect with it on an emotional level. I didn't find the film to be as moving as one has come to expect from this genre of human rights films. Perhaps this is the point that needs to be examined. In a world of Hollywood-esque stylised movies that have portrayed the stories of crimes against humanity in a near epic way, one has come to be accustomed to the idea of expecting a strong emotional response to films of this nature. In an almost perverse way one expects an emotional wow effect after watching a documentary with this subject matter. Powerful visuals accompanied by emotional music in key dramatic scenes have usually underlined the tragic message in films of this type. Instead Enemies of the People has a more quiet and less dramatic presence, making the film all the more realistic and poignant.
The film was made possible through the personal quest of Thet Sambas, who'd spent years looking for perpetrators of the former regime, attempting to get them to open up and to admit to their attrocities. It revealed the highly complex nature of a documentary of this sort. The film's success mainly relied on access to the perpetrators, something not easily achieved by an outside filmmaker and made possible by Thet Sambas. It was thanks to the persistence of Thet Sambas over the years and his ability to build relations with some of the former perpetrators that led to them opening up and revealing their dark pasts.
After years of his own research into the history that had affected him personally, Thet Sambas met with Rob Lemkin to work on a project which ultimately led to this film. Thus credit needs to be given to Thet Sambas who not only helped make this recount possible, but who also played a key role at establishing a connection with the story through his personal quest. At the same time credit needs to be given to Rob Lemkin for directing Thet Sambas' journey with tremendous sensitivity and objectivity towards all contributors.
While I found the film to be informative and engaging on a rational level, there was one element missing for me that made it more difficult to connect with it on an emotional level. I didn't find the film to be as moving as one has come to expect from this genre of human rights films. Perhaps this is the point that needs to be examined. In a world of Hollywood-esque stylised movies that have portrayed the stories of crimes against humanity in a near epic way, one has come to be accustomed to the idea of expecting a strong emotional response to films of this nature. In an almost perverse way one expects an emotional wow effect after watching a documentary with this subject matter. Powerful visuals accompanied by emotional music in key dramatic scenes have usually underlined the tragic message in films of this type. Instead Enemies of the People has a more quiet and less dramatic presence, making the film all the more realistic and poignant.
Sunday, 23 January 2011
To blog or not: where do you start?
I figured the one thing I've been talking non-stop about, is the documentary scene. So I decided to make that my talking point and a chance for me to share all things interesting in the international documentary scene. It might be a comment on a documentary or festival I've come across, political activism, a trend, an interesting book or some related news.
As I searched for a blog tool, I came across a couple: WordPress, Tumblr and then Blogger. At first glance, WordPress seemed professional, but a bit too complicated and Tumblr is too 'trendy'. I decided to use Blogger. Its simplicity allows you to focus on the writing. In today's digital world, it's hard to keep up with all the new developments. Simple works best for me.
My fascination with digital communication started when I began immersing myself into the world of documentary filmmaking. I kept coming across buzz words such as 'cross-media' and I realised that's where current creative opportunities lie. So it seems, sticking to old school thinking won't work in today's complex media landscape.
As I searched for a blog tool, I came across a couple: WordPress, Tumblr and then Blogger. At first glance, WordPress seemed professional, but a bit too complicated and Tumblr is too 'trendy'. I decided to use Blogger. Its simplicity allows you to focus on the writing. In today's digital world, it's hard to keep up with all the new developments. Simple works best for me.
My fascination with digital communication started when I began immersing myself into the world of documentary filmmaking. I kept coming across buzz words such as 'cross-media' and I realised that's where current creative opportunities lie. So it seems, sticking to old school thinking won't work in today's complex media landscape.
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