Chicago, Alaa Aswany [first e reader .TXT] 📗

promise not to bequeath the presidency to his son, thus opening up an opportunity for a real contest for the presidency based on elections subject to international supervision.

We sat drafting the statement, Karam Doss and I, at Dr. Graham’s house. John participated with the enthusiasm of an old revolutionary. We translated the text for him and he gave us some important ideas. He said, “The language of the statement has to be precise and definitive. If it is rhetorical or emotional, it will not be taken seriously. If it is too militant, as if it were a declaration of war, it will look like a caricature.”

We added some demands: to release detainees, to do away with special tribunals, and to ban torture. We finished the statement in its final form late on Friday night. I got up early in the morning, printed the statement, and made twenty copies, then began my mission: I had to meet Egyptian students and convince them to sign. During the day, I met five students who responded with useless debate, then refused to sign. The strangest reaction came from Tariq Haseeb and Shaymaa Muhammadi, two colleagues from the histology department who are inseparable (I think they are romantically involved). This Tariq is a strange man, very brilliant, but introspective and aggressive, and he always seems to be in a bad mood, as if someone has just awakened him. He, with Shaymaa by his side, listened to me in silence. I described conditions in Egypt and said it was our duty to do something for change. I noticed a sarcastic expression on his face, and as soon as I mentioned the statement, he interrupted me derisively. “Are you kidding? You want me to sign a statement against the president of the republic?”

“Yes, for the sake of your country.”

“I am not interested in politics.”

“When you go back to Egypt, aren’t you going to get married and have children?” I asked him as I looked at Shaymaa.

“God willing.”

“Don’t you care about the future of your children?”

“My children will have a better future if I concentrate on my studies and go back to Egypt with a PhD.”

“Why do you accept that they will live in the midst of injustice and corruption?”

“Would their conditions be better after I am detained?”

“Who’d detain you?”

“Of course everyone who’ll sign this statement will be harmed,” said Shaymaa, her very first sentence. I tried to be patient and to explain, but Tariq got up and said, “Don’t waste your time, Nagi. We are not going to sign any statements, nor, I think, will a single Egyptian in Chicago. Let me give you some advice for God’s sake, don’t go down that road—it doesn’t end well. Concentrate on your studies. Mind your own business and don’t try to change the universe,” he said again derisively and grabbed Shaymaa’s arm and the two left me alone. When I met Karam in the evening, I was frustrated. I told him, “I am close to giving up on the idea.”

“Why?”

“All the students I met refused to sign.”

“Did you expect to convince them easily?”

“They treated me like a madman.”

“That’s natural.”

“Why?”

“All the students are at the government’s mercy. If they sign this statement, they’ll actually be penalized.”

“But I’m a student like them.”

“You’re an exception. Besides, you don’t work at the university, hence there’s nothing for you to lose.”

“If everyone thought of it this way, we wouldn’t get anything done.”

“What a dreamer!”

“I am not a dreamer, but I find their position to be selfish and despicable. People like that are the reason we’re where we are. It is from them that the regime chooses its ministers and experts, who turn a blind eye to the truth and who lie and curry favor with the president to keep their posts.”

“Don’t give up,” Dr. Doss said.

“I no longer see the point in what we are doing.”

He smiled and patted me on the shoulder, then took out of his pocket a folded paper. When I looked at it, I recognized it as a copy of the statement with several signatures. He laughed loudly and said, “You have to admit I beat you!”

I began to read the names; they were both Coptic and Muslim names. He went on, not trying to hide how happy he was, “At the beginning I was not enthusiastic about the idea of the statement but afterward I found it to be an excellent idea. And most of those I met have responded well. We will succeed, Nagi, but we have to look in the right places. Don’t waste your time with the students. I’ve brought you a list of Egyptian immigrants in Chicago, with their addresses and telephone numbers. Let’s split the list and contact them.”

During the following days, as soon as I came back from school, I’d work the phone, ringing up Egyptians. I introduced myself as a student who wanted to start a new association of Egyptians, and then I’d ask the person for an appointment to see them. The reactions differed from one person to the next: some told me frankly that they had severed their ties to Egypt and couldn’t care less what happened there. But many of them were quite enthusiastic. I visited several neighborhoods in Chicago. Most Egyptians I met were upset at the conditions in Egypt. At the end of my presentation, I’d ask each of them a direct question, “Do you want to do something for your country?”

I could guess the answer from the way they looked at me: an indifferent or awkward look meant no signature; a friendly look meant that they would sign. By 4:00 P.M. on the following Sunday, when I took the Blue Line going back to the dorm, I had obtained ten signatures in addition to the twenty-nine that Karam got, a total of thirty-nine signatures, in addition to five persons who had asked for time to think about it. That was an achievement beyond our expectations in the short period since we started. We