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"Do
you regret being American?" I was asked. I cannot
remember who asked me, or even if it was in Palestine
or here in Egypt. It could have been anyone, anywhere,
anytime. There has been a continuing stream of reasons
for regret, from my country's support of assassination
in Palestine to - come to think of it, to my country's
support of assassination in Iraq, and these are just
the obvious ones. But my country doesn't really support
such evil deeds. My constitution, my neighborly culture,
my conviction in the rightness of freedom of speech
- these things define my country. These are not pushing
invasion and occupation of another nation. Those making
the decisions and taking the actions that shame us
all are not of the American people, nor for us. A
local commentator feels that a coup has changed the
American government, although it has not been publicly
announced or acknowledged. He does not specify whether
this has taken place in the White House or the Pentagon.
What
this alleged American government, which is the military,
is doing to prisoners in Guantanamo Bay is no different
than what they are doing to themselves, padding their
ears so they do not hear, blindfolding their eyes
so they do not see, tying their own arms so they cannot
feel, and binding their legs so they cannot take steps
toward any kind of progress. Americans may not have
seen the images of the Guantanamo prisoners lately
but the rest of the world has. Spanish television
showed them on the heels of a clip where the Bush
administration complains of violations of the Geneva
Convention in al-Jazeera's broadcasts of pictures.
"Do
you regret being American?"
Bush
is appointing a Minister of Information in Iraq from
among the seemingly omniscient JINSA group [Jewish
Institute for National Security Affairs] who think
they are remote-controlling the world. One more little
surprise from Iraq that the coup-makers haven't taken
into consideration is that Iraqis are sophisticated
at sorting through the news that is handed out to
them. They don't automatically accept what the little
screen tells them. They have developed a healthy habit
of questioning authority and media pronouncements.
They are also aware of America's legal violations.
"Do
you regret being American?"
A
special note to my countrymen and women who have silenced
voices that tell of meeting military violence with
non-violence: I don't want to prove you wrong in your
silencing effective voices that bring a small measure
of justice to the world through constructive engagement.
I don't want you to apologize openly or feel ashamed
inside. I just want you to learn to love even one
glimmer of caring for your neighbor, so that you will
seek that thread of light, pursue it, delight in it,
let it reflect off of you as you stand in its path,
and see that you can neither stop it from shining
nor collect it in a box and shut it away. Who is your
neighbor? I hope mine will include Samaritans, though
I am not the expert on the issue. But what if you
have a dangerous neighbor? What then? That is just
what millions of people on the planet are saying now.
And they are talking about you.
"Do
you regret being American?"
After
reading of the sacking of Baghdad's museums, I dreamed
for two nights of pounding steady destruction. I awoke
hoping the news was a part of my dream. The unspeakable
loss made me so sick that I dreamed of vomiting the
warm water of my empty stomach. Is it repellent to
read that? The ash and desolation of historical and
literary expressions are magnitudes more nauseating.
In
the wake of loss to plunder and flame, Donny George
at the Iraqi Ministry of Antiquities said, "This
is what the Americans wanted. They wanted Iraq to
lose its history." [R Fisk, Independent, 16 April
2003] No, we didn't. I didn't, and I am one of the
Americans.
"Do
you regret being American?"
A
Syrian friend is not surprised that they targeted
cultural places: "A nation's culture is what
holds its people together." What is holding my
nation's people together? The mutual desire to ransack
history? No, we are not together in this. At the end
of the two-hour "Third View" talk show with
A-Sharq al-Awsat's Cairo bureau chief, the Egyptian
Ambassador cites Gore Vidal's vision of an America
which has split into disunited states. Off-camera,
he asks me if I felt this were possible. I have no
talent for predictions, nonetheless it is clear that
there are serious splits in perceptions of the invasion.
But that is democracy, after all, a pluralistic approach
to visions and analyses!
At
the height of the US/UK decapitation mission, I turn
into a small but densely-populated side street. A
woman recognizes me and engages me in conversation.
Another woman says, "American?" When I respond
affirmatively, she slides her index finger across
her neck, signaling decapitation, and utters a single
word, "Bush" as she sits regally on a gold
sofa in the alley amidst nodding goats. The first
woman distances me from the decapitable American,
saying, "But she is a good one! She was at the
demonstration with a big sign against the war, and
she spoke against it on television." The sofa
lady smiles and welcomes me, but the image of her
sentence on the Commander in Chief remains in my mind.
"Do
you regret being American?"
Another
night, a frantic email message from America implores
me to be careful in the streets of Cairo rife with
anti-American sentiment. So say the alarmist media
reports across the ocean. Reality is just the opposite.
I am unfazed by my friend's concern, responding that
I feel safe walking home at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning,
and I have befriended all the nighttime street sweepers.
I recall the statistic that when homicides decreased
by twenty percent in America, news of them increased
by six hundred percent. When I take a late dinner
break at my favorite spaghetti establishment, my local
hero surprisingly brings up the same topic as he dishes
my portion of steaming noodles into a plastic bowl:
"You speak Arabic and you are friendly with us,
but if another American came through here, people
would kill him." I am surprised because I have
not encountered such emotions. He assures me that
this is the case.
"Do
you regret being American?"
Heading
to a vigil at the Journalists' Union, a lavish and
imposing palace provided by the Ministry of Defense,
a phone text message comes in to the mobile of a reporter
for a major Arab newspaper: "Mubarak wants this
war. He wants to send your sons to fight. Tell others."
At the demonstration, a television announcer takes
my statement, and insists on my answering the question,
"Do you feel that Bush and Blair are committing
war crimes?"
"Do
you regret being American?"
Many
people have told me that I was brave to carry a large
sign declaring my nationality and my position, American
Against the War, in the one and almost only demonstration
in Cairo [20 March 03]. "It takes courage to
speak up like that outside your own country."
I receive news that organizers of Chicago's 63rd Street
demonstration have cancelled the action due to "a
pervasive atmosphere of fear and anxiety within the
Arab community." People are also worried about
joining the ranks of the disappeared who were taken
in sweeps after 11th September, and have not been
charged or heard from since.
"Do
you regret being American?"
In
a humble but lively neighborhood where a home consists
of a room just big enough for a small aisle between
two beds, we exchange contact information. Conversation
turns to money, and a man in the family indicates
the desirability of the dollar over the Egyptian pound
and other currencies. "No," says the young
mother of my new four-year old sweetheart, Fuad. "The
dollar.!" she exclaims, completing her sentence
with a downward sweep of the hand. She predicts the
effects of war budgets more clearly than many Americans
with larger rooms in grander houses.
"Do
you regret being American?"
Another
family scene I have only read of has a van full of
people trying to follow the Army's orders to "Be
safe" printed on leaflets dropped in Baghdad
streets. They thought that these soldiers, like the
first group they met, would wave them through the
checkpoint in their hurried quest to reach safety.
Instead, a hail of heavy gunfire left them beholding
their two little daughters in their seats, decapitated.
"Please be careful when you are shooting,"
pleads Captain Chris Carter of the US Seventh Regiment,
Third Infantry.
"Do
you regret being American?"
Saddam's
metal head is dragged in the street and beamed around
the world after the US Marines topple his statue.
Echoes of Constantine - when told that the people
had chopped off his statue's head, he touched his
own, remarking that he didn't feel a thing. I think
of the lady on the gold sofa in the alley, one finger
across her throat and one word on her lips, "Bush."
"Do
you regret being American?"
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