Political divide splits families
But debate between secular rule and political Islam pales in the face of extreme poverty
Even among the poorest of the poor, Egypt is a country divided today. Sitting outside her threadbare plywood shanty on the margins of the El Drasa cemetery, 72- year- old Nagat said she wished that air force Gen. Hosni Mubarak, who ran Egypt for 30 years, would be freed from prison so the former dictator could be reinstated as president.
That notion provoked cackles of derision from Nagat’s daughter, Suhar, who lives with her, as does her younger sister and six of Nagat’s 14 grandchildren.
Suhar, who like her sister and mother is a widow, admires the Muslim Brotherhood’s Mohammed Morsi, who was ousted as president by the military last week after winning elections only one year ago. She wants the generals who have jailed Morsi to allow him to finish the remaining three years of his term.
Speaking limited Arabic, I had trouble following the conversation that ensued between the two women. But I know the same often fiery debate about the merits of political Islam or secular rule is being heard in homes across Egypt.
Pressed by Suhar, Nagat, who asked that her full name not be used, confessed she had voted for Morsi last June.
“I did that because everybody said he was good,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t like him now because everybody says he is bad.”
Nagat had many reasons for wanting a return to military rule, and if that was not possible, a secular government backed by the military. All of them had to do with her family’s dire economic circumstances and the general lawlessness that has gripped Cairo since Morsi was elected.
Married at 15 to “a kind man” who worked in the cemetery before he died four years ago, Nagat has spent her entire life in makeshift lodgings built against the graveyard walls.
Motioning toward the television set that was her only form of entertainment and her sole connection to the world beyond El Drasa, Nagat said: “I heard Morsi promise on the TV that he would give us apartments and I did not get one. All I want is a place to live and he lied to me.”
With her husband and her daughters’ husbands gone, and her three sons having left home to raise families of their own, the grizzled matriarch touched the black dress she was wearing and said, “I am the boss.”
A question about how much money her family earned produced gales of laughter even from several of the youngest grandchildren, who were five and six years old.
“We have no money,” Nagat said, flashing a snaggle- toothed smile before admitting this was not exactly true. Her family of eight got by on about 200 Egyptian pounds ( about $ 19) a month, which they earned from a modest outdoor tea stand right next to their shanty. Their main source of income was four shisha pipes that men from the neighbourhood paid one pound each to puff on.
The television and the satellite dish it was connected to were gifts. Like the 50 or so other families who live next to the graveyard, power came from illegal connections to the local grid. There was no plumbing because, needless to say, there was no running water. However, a local mosque allowed them to fill bottles of water for free. As for meat or chicken, Nagat said her brood depended on the occasional generosity of slightly better off neighbours living in apartments nearby.
“I hate the Muslim Brotherhood because they made us even poorer,” Nagat said. “With Mubarak, security was good.”
Early Monday morning, Egypt was badly shaken when 51 supporters of the Brotherhood and three members of the security forces were killed in a wild gun battle near Raba Square.
“All the news is about the Muslim Brotherhood. They kill people,” she said, again motioning to the television, which at that time was showing a huge anti- Morsi rally in Cairo’s Tahrir Square that had taken place three days before the military stepped in.
“A Muslim Brotherhood march going to Raba the night before came right by here on the way. I heard they killed some police there. We could hear some of the fighting from here. The people in Tahrir are good. Those in Raba are bad.”
At this, her daughter, Suhar, interrupted to forcefully state the opposite.
“We are so poor we do not see what is really going on,” Suhar said. “Whatever happens next, Egypt is finished.”
Squinting into the sun, as she squatted beside her daughter, Nagat said, “This is my life. I don’t know another. So, for me, it is OK. But for Egypt, I want this to end. Nothing good comes from people dying. We pray to God to end this now.”