Second rule of human rights work, Rafah, and "Free Spirit"

Left: the hottest tourism poster I've ever seen, kind of out of place in Egypt...




1/4

The second rule of human rights work: if everyone going somewhere is something and you're not, and you get asked if you're that thing, lie and say you are.

I read in the news that the border with Rafah would be open today, so I got up early, checked out of Sinai Sun, and headed to Rafah. I had tried to go on Jan 1 as well, but at the first checkpoint, not even five miles out of Arish, the police stopped me and told me to go back. I told them to look at the letters I have and the cop, the only Egyptian I've seen so far who's taller than I am, put his hand on his pistol, got right in my face and said "go...back...Arish." I obliged him.

But today, none of the police checkpoints stopped me. "Yes!" I thought. "The border must actually be open!"

Rafah took about 40 minutes to get to. The driver on the way there didn't speak a word of English, but he and I managed to communicate a little bit. The inevitable "Muslim?" came up, to which I responded as always "no". He looked at me very sadly and (I think) tried to explain that I will go to hell, while he will go to heaven. I really didn't know what to say, so I just said I know, which strangely enough seemed to satisfy him. Afterward I think he tried to ask me if I'm not Muslim because of Osama bin Laden, which made me laugh. The guy had a little embroidery piece hanging from his mirror: a Star of David.

The drive from el-Arish to Rafah is through several dusty towns, each of which seems poorer than the last. Rafah itself doesn't seem to be much more than a small town and a huge militarized border crossing. I'm quite sure the ratio of soldiers to non-soldiers there was about 5:1, and these guys were armed as if the Soviets were invading. Quite different from the 5'4'' guys who weigh 120 lbs and have clothes that are way too big for them directing traffic in Cairo with their thirty year old machine guns.

When I got to Rafah this was the scene: about one hundred people, some with a bunch of luggage and some with a backpack, standing and sitting on the side of the road about 150 meters from the enormous Rafah Gate, the crossing into Gaza, where all the soldiers were. I just stood amongst everyone, waiting, not really sure what was going to happen. While standing around a young guy came up to me and started asking me questions, to which I gave my standard reply. "Ah, speak English?" He was maybe 16 years old, very pleasant, named Hosni. ("The big boss!" he said; Egypt's president/dictator is Hosni Mubarak.)

Him: Where you from?

Me: From America, but I am Iranian.

Him: Ah, welcome! I love America, and I love Iran!

Me: Shookrun! I love Egypt and I love Palestine! [He had told me his dad is Egyptian and his mother Palestinian]

Him: Why?

Me: Ehhhhh...?

Him: Why love Egypt?

Me: Uh... Egypt is very nice? (It was almost a question, really I have to say I could have done without Egypt in life.)

Him: What? Donkey here, jesh [army] there, what nice?

Me: Ah, okay, Egypt nos nos? [Egypt is kinda alright?]

He and I carried on like this for a while. He exclaimed "everyone here my friend!" and then claimed to know every single person waiting to get across the border. "Really?" I asked. "Yes. Some okay. Some bad. But all, ah, friend. You come, please." Then he picked up my bag and walked about five meters up the road to two women who were waiting.

When we got to them he said something in Arabic, and then one of them said "ah, you are from America?" Why does everyone speak English all of a sudden?

She and I chatted for a while. Again I told her I am American and Iranian (explaining "I'm Iranian ethnically, kind of, well you see..." is just too much here) and she said "Ah, I like Iran better!" I asked "but American people?" And she hastily added, "No, I love American people! Only not like American government, so bad!"

We talked about politics for a little while ("We have no problem with Shia or Sunni, in Gaza Muslim and Christian live together, and even no problem with the Jewish", "What has Obama done? What is the change?"), she mentioned about five hundred times that her daughter speaks excellent English, is beautiful ("like her mother!" she exclaimed, and then giggled hilariously), is 22 years old, and has one year left on her pharmacy degree at al-Najar University (I think it's al-Najar, whatever the Palestinian national university is), etc.

She has four kids, one has a Ph.D. in law and lives in New Jersey, one lives in Dubai with her husband, who manages a company owned by an Iranian guy ("Musavi, but he a good!"), and two studying in Gaza. One goes to the Islamic University, the laboratories of which had been modernized by donors just a few years ago and which were bombed by Israel during Op Cast Lead (they were being used to "develop Hamas weaponry", which explains Hamas' amazing military capabilities during that operation). I think she said he's studying engineering. The other is the 22 year old daughter.

"I hate to go to Gaza" she says, despite the fact that it's where she was born. She kept repeating a phrase in Arabic that I didn't know the meaning of and saying she didn't know how to explain it in English. Finally she said, "I think, it is not good for the human."

"For the human rights?" I asked.

"No, not for the human rights. But also not for the human. Even not for the dog." she replied.

At that point an old man whose right had was gone asked me for money, so I gave him the 2 LE I had in my pocket. He had his sleeve over his stub so I wasn't sure, I asked the kid (who was still standing next to me, not saying anything) "his hand is gone?" Hosni told me he lost it during Cast Lead, and that he used to be a stone worker, but with his right hand gone he's reduced to begging.

The lady and I talked about some other stuff that I can't remember, then the buses came. The buses take people to the first gate in the Rafah Gate, where they check everyone's IDs. For some reason people aren't allowed to walk to the gate, they are required to get on this bus and pay 10 LE for no reason that I can discern.

When the buses arrive, all the young people who aren't waiting to cross make the most insane dash for everyone's luggage I've ever seen. The instant the buses pulled over, the road - which had been almost silent other than me and the lady talking - exploded with human activity. Every piece of luggage was thrown into a large wooden and metal cart being pulled behind the bus, and by thrown I mean launched. Somehow these kids (none of them could have been over 16) remembered whose bags they had thrown into the cart, then got on the bus and harassed those people for money, the going rate seemed 2 LE for a small bag and 3 LE for a big bag. That was another thing the lady brought up while we were talking: "In Egypt, everyone want money for everything. They think everyone who come from outside have so much money! Where to get money from. Even for the toilet!" (I've had to pay to use the bathroom many times, and you definitely don't enjoy the experience...)

Anyway, when they checked IDs on the bus they told me to get off. "Are you Palestinian?" Violating the second rule of human rights, I was honest and said no, and then I argued with the soldier (who again spoke English) for ten minutes that it makes no sense to say "today only for Palestinians." He insisted he can't do anything about it and that I have to go to the Ministry of Interior now to get a permit. Fantastic.

I met two Egyptian guys, one was sending his wife to Gaza to see her family, the other was sending his sister to Gaza to see her husband's family. Again, both spoke more than enough English to get by. Us three and another guy who was taken off the bus by the Egyptians and then had a shouting match with them all took a taxi back to el-Arish. The two guys stayed in Arish I think, I took a shared taxi to Cairo (40 LE, not bad), and I think the other guy took a shared taxi to Ismalia, a city just west of the Suez Canal I think.

On the taxi ride to Cairo it was pretty much all Egyptian students and me, we all had a good time piecing their English together to communicate with me. The inevitable "Muslim?" came up, this time I decided to say yes just to see if there would be a different response. "Welcome." That was it. I was disappointed, I was hoping for a ceremony of some sort, preferably involving an elephant.

Half way through the taxi ride the taxi broke down; this was in the middle of the Sinai desert. Not at all bothered by it, the driver got out, tinkered with the engine for a while (I suspect it just had to cool off), and then, after half an hour, started it and drove until Ismalia. In Ismalia he stopped to get the car handwashed (it was the oldest functioning car I've ever been in, it had literally zero door handles that worked from inside the car and only one window roller handle left intact), so we sat around, smoked and drank tea, while the car wash guys poured dirty soapy water all over the car and then wiped it down until it sparkled in the sun. Actually it was still the same faded red it was before, but oh well.

Then from Ismalia to Cairo. From Cairo I got a taxi to Cecilia Hostel again, but unfortunately they were full. They sent me to a place about three blocks away called Sara Inn Hostel, here I have a dorm room for I think 60 LE per night, not bad. The shower here is fantastic, and it made me super happy.

I called a friend I was introduced to by email through another friend, and he and I met up. There was a film screening for a movie called Gaza On Air, I hope I can get it and show it at HSPH when I get back. No foreign journalists were allowed into Gaza during (or for the two weeks before, illustrating again that the attack was meticulously planned and timed) Cast Lead, for obvious reasons. There were Palestinian journalists in Gaza though, and they shot amazing and truly horrifying footage of what unfolded in those 22 days.

After that we went to a fish place for dinner with another friend of his from Belgium, a quirky blond whose name I can't remember. She told us about how she cycled through Tibet, I think she said three or four years ago, it was the craziest thing I'd ever heard.

Oh, and "Free Spirit". So when I got to Sara Inn Hostel I got a bed in the dorm room, nothing else was left and I really didn't care. Like I said, the shower was unbelievably amazing. I'm wearing new clothes for the first time in five days, incidentally; I have been doing everything I can to avoid unpacking just to repack, and I definitely smelled like I'd been riding around on Egyptian public transport for a week.

Anyway, right before I was going to go take a shower this tall white guy walks into the dorm room. "Hello" I said, "my name's Feroze."

"Free Spirit, hi."

I knew he had just told me his name is "Free Spirit", but I thought "maybe he thinks I said my name is 'Free Spirit'", so I asked him again "sorry, what's your name?"

"Free Spirit."

Uh, okay. "Where are you from?"

"Oh I'm from the UK originally."

"Cool, what are you doing in Egypt."

"I came here to do some research actually."

"Oh really? Me too, but in the Gaza Strip. What are you doing research on."

"I'm trying to show how various E.T.s were involved in building the pyramids."

"Like, extraterrestrials?"

"Yeah. I had several shaman experiences two months ago and made contact with some E.T.s. Most of us can't contact them because we're not vibrating at high enough level, because we're worried about money or something like that."

"Yeah, I can't communicate with E.T.s."

"Yeah, so I'm here to look for aliens painted into the hieroglyphics. The E.T.s I contacted told me I should come here to look for proof of their existence, so I did. Oh I also took an incredibly cheap Nile River cruise today for 10 LE, it was really quite amazing."

So basically I have either a schizophrenic or, and I'm guessing this is the actual case, manic guy sleeping across from me in the dorm. I'm guessing he's manic because he must have had some money and wherewithal to make it to Egypt in the first place, doesn't seem likely for a 35 year old schizophrenic.

Anyway, that was January 4 for me. It's 1:30 in the morning and I'm going to the embassy for the third and, I sincerely hope, last time tomorrow, and hopefully then to the Egyptian Ministry of Interior. All of this would really be simpler if the embassy just stopped pretending it can't give the Egyptians orders...