I am a reluctant editorialist. I’ve always dreaded writing op-eds because much as there is out there to cover, when it comes to putting my thoughts on paper, I’m constantly at a loss for words. Naturally, I do have my own opinions — no one can be indifferent to the disturbing events happening, not just here in Egypt but the world over — but I’m of the firm belief that if you can’t add to a debate, then there’s no point joining one.And as such I’ve never taken the time to mail a letter in response to a magazine or newspaper piece, I’ve never reached for the phone to call in and take part in a discussion on TV or on the radio and I’ve never even been bothered to scroll down to the “add comments” section following an article or opinion piece online; believe me, it’s neither apathy nor plain old laziness. Everyone else says everything I want to say, so I am content to sit back and listen, watch or read, fully satisfied that this is sufficient-enough participation.
Which is why it is with much trepidation that I’m starting this weekly column. What, I’m fretting, am I going to write about? More importantly, what on earth am I going to say. I do have one buffer I can fall back on when it comes to scouting for ideas: as a trained editor I intuitively pick up on the little issues that sometimes fall by the wayside because they are overshadowed by more momentous events. Going through the dailies, it’s never the headlines that keep my attention; invariably I spend more time on the mailbag section, the crime page and the quirky news that touches on ordinary people’s everyday lives.
In this space every week I’ll be looking at one or two of these ‘Egypt's own’-type incidents in an effort to understand just how people are thinking, what makes them do the things they do and how they react to the world around them day in day out.
Among the events, big and small, of the past few days, one story really got me worried — the activation of the Amr Bil Maarouf and Nahy Aan El-Monkar (Committee for the Propagation of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice) societies in Egypt. New Year’s Day brought tidings of their initial campaign in Qalyoubia where members reportedly ‘visited’ retail stores and barber shops, warning employees at the former that they had to start stocking ‘conservative’ womenswear and telling the latter that they were not to shave men’s beards (Muslim tradition encourages men to trim their mustaches but leave their beards unshaved). More of these visits (surprise, checkup ones) were promised.
A friend of mine told me the initial reaction to the directives was “utter disbelief and incredulity.”
But it’s always the women who save the day — and bring on the laughs. When Amr bil Maarouf and Nahy Aan El-Monkar activists stormed a hairdresser’s and sanctimoniously announced what the male hairdressers were doing was nothing short of haram (forbidden) and displeasing to God, and urged them to change the commercial activity of their outlet and switch to a more ‘honest’ trade, they were chased out of the building by the customers. The women took the fight out to the street, beating the men speechless in front of all and sundry. |
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