Turning 28 in a few days, I find myself thinking a lot about how it feels to be someone in their late twenties living here in Egypt. Now, I consider myself to be pretty average: born to an upper-middle class family, acceptably-educated, moderately aware of history by way of information filtered through a state apparatus keen on maintaining a certain image. In short, there are millions of people like me out there at the moment, making their way to work, cursing the traffic, wondering what bad news the day might bring.
And that’s the sad thing about it, no? Life in Egypt right now has become this game of expectation; you wake up in the morning not knowing what will happen, but there’s always this sense of trepidation in the air. Sometimes, you manage to forget about it, you enter your bubble of choice, feeling somewhat guilty, but also justified in doing so. After all, you’ve got your own issues and struggles to deal with. Don’t we all? But still..
I understand of course, that I am talking from a position of privilege here; I make enough money to live comfortably, I possess a car, and — perhaps most incriminatingly — I’m a guy, which means I get to not experience the systemic abuse Egyptian women see on a daily basis.
Your twenties often bring about a lot of things: disillusionment with the status quo, a desire to change your place in the world and a fleeting sense of hope that change is indeed possible. Eventually, one acquires the valuable ability to distinguish between what can and cannot be changed, which brings with it some modicum of inner peace. This might be the case in general, but nowhere is it more pronounced than in one’s twenties here.
I was 23 in 2011 when the revolution happened. Our parents love to throw around the accusation that we’re not patriotic and we don’t love our country, but it’s funny, because I don’t think I’d ever cared about Egypt as much as I did during those brief days of upheaval. Anyway, time went by, things fell apart and we find ourselves 4 years later with a lot more awareness, but also a great deal more hopelessness. I’m not going to sit and think back to some golden days, and say how I think we led a better life back then. Who knows whether it was worth it or not? I honestly don’t, and I don’t even think I have the right to judge, given how little effect all these changes have had on my life.
But, even if your life hasn’t been visibly impacted by these changes, it is impossible to deny that your surroundings have definitely changed. Much has been said about how the psychological profile of Egyptians has been irrevocably changed after the revolution, and it’s no surprise. Take me, for example. I experience a little bit of panic every time I see a small gathering of police somewhere, simply because I know how helpless I’d be if anything were to happen. I could disappear, for no apparent reason, and no one would ever find me again. I worry about aggravating a deranged driver, because I know it’s entirely possible that they’ve got a gun or a knife in their car, and no one would stop them. I worry about my mother, when she walks home from work at night, because I know that I cannot rely on anyone to help her if she’s a victim of harassment or mugging. I worry about falling ill, because I know that the entire medical superstructure in Egypt is corrupt and malpractice is as common as the common cold. I worry about an ailing economy, that is spiraling downwards towards an abyss, while everyone argues about the true meaning of sovereignty and the power of the state.
I worry, and I despair, because I know that there’s very little any of us can do to change these things.
And so this is what our twenties have turned into: a time of supposed experience and learning that has become a great mess of anxieties and fears, that snowballs ever bigger each day, as the bubble of disinterest and denial struggles to keep it outside. But the cracks keep growing, and it’s only getting worse.
Eventually, you find yourself just thinking ‘Well, at least I’m alive,’ and I guess in some sad way, that’s the joke Egypt plays on us every day.
See you next year!
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